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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
George Brownlee was a spectacularly unlucky man. Or rather, just a particularly morose one--prone to bouts of depression and fits of suicide. All told, he had probably died hundreds of times in as many worlds. And it seems his many manifestations mostly all had a penchant for killing themselves.
*This* George Brownlee--the one *we're* concerned about--had spent his whole life experiencing the shudders of his many others as they left their own Earths. *Petite morts*, one after another--but far less fun. With each death, they collapsed into the remaining George Brownlees, weighting each subsequent one down with the Atlassian burden of their collective *ennui*.
Some had died of other causes, before they had the chance to succumb to their own hand. There had been house fires that killed a few, the stray mugging here and there. The casual accidents and deaths of any sort of civilized world. But most of the George Brownlees had chosen to hang, poison, shoot, suffocate, and--in a surprisingly high number of cases--decapitate themselves.
*Our* George Brownlee is just one of a handful left--they're not a hardy bunch. He, like all the others, has sandy, limp hair and a downturned mouth that could have looked sensual, if he had ever felt sensual. Unlike the other George Brownlees, this one--ours--has a paper-cut thin scar on his right temple, a memento from an errant basketball that dragged down his glasses and its small, unprotected screw down his face.
To be fair, our George Brownlee is not at all that important. He will never serve in political office, as three other Georges have. He is not a doctor (18 former Georges), a teacher (27), or even a security guard (like a shocking 43 dead George Brownlees). He will not even be any sort of inspirational figure, not even to his own children, who will forever regard him as a bit tedious.
Our George Brownlee manages a supermarket. And he also manages the dull, throbbing peer pressure of all the other George Brownlees past, who urge him to do what they all have done, and die.
That would be a shame. Not because our George is anything special--he's clearly not--but because one of the other Georges still left is. There are only a few, but this one, not-our-George, will one day pull himself together, ponder the beauty of solar energy, and eventually wrangle together the biggest energy bill that another version of our Earth has ever seen.
But not of he succumbs to the Brownlee curse--the inevitable suffocation by all his other versions whispering for him to join them.
So, you see, it's rather essential for *our* George Brownlee to make it through his mediocre life. Because if he were to take it, that would be the straw breaking not-our-George's back.
And so--maybe our George Brownlee is his own sort of hero, as he lackadaisically stocks shelves with canned pineapple and tells his cashiers canned jokes. He is maybe a hero for taking the drugs that silence the whispers of Georges past, even though they make him so, so tedious.
Our George's chills used to come like ague, but nowadays there are far fewer George Brownlees left to try killing themselves. And for now, not-our-George is about to extend a pale leg outside of his covers, and turn toward the sun, and dream of what it can do.
|
Rick: "Do you want me to explain the math Morty?! Do you?! Put some damn clothes on, otherwise the council of Rick will come after me again!"
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm new on reddit. Sort of. And I know this is late, by nearly a month, but this is the post that got me to finally sign up for reddit and well this is is my attempt at a writing prompt. Also very first post on reddit.
Ripples
She stood before the still water like a whisper waiting to be heard. Timeless? Forgotten? Alone? It’s all figurative when it happens in your head, but is all this really just happening in my head? I can feel their pain, their loss..wait is it my pain and my loss? She swayed to the melancholy on the balls of her feet, eager to escape the narrative. Her fingers clutched bare arms. What frantic reality gave birth to something this sinister, where the woes of the dead are only piled on another. She shut her eyes and heaved a long sigh. It might end here, it must. The thought of someone else going through this, kills me. Her eyelids flew open. Grave laughter filled the void, she saw the humour in her own thoughts. A stray tear dibbled out her broken enthusiasm; soon the tears marched down her face. Her vision mumbled, grey plates of perforated shadows feel before it; she looked past the curtain and saw the lake. It sat in a bowl as wide as a mistake and as far as a nun’s faith. Oval and still, its waters neither shone nor moved. She waddled into its caress, breaching the surface and floating like lilies on a pond. The water ate her up in quick drawls. Their feelings hit before the cold; lost hopes, happy afternoons, warm funerals, and endless chills. The bottom of the lake hollowed out, feeling wider than before, an impeding sense of being swallowed overwhelmed her. All these moments that once defined somebody will drown with me. Somehow the added baggage only makes me feel lighter. She saw herself glide along, cutting a trail of intersecting wings. The lake spew images of herself drifting towards each other, towards the centre. They comforted her, they called out to her and then disappeared. Soon, the memories reached her throat and in one whole scoop washed over her head. A ripple spread from the point where her head submerged, someone somewhere felt a chill.
|
Rick: "Do you want me to explain the math Morty?! Do you?! Put some damn clothes on, otherwise the council of Rick will come after me again!"
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
Rick: "Do you want me to explain the math Morty?! Do you?! Put some damn clothes on, otherwise the council of Rick will come after me again!"
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
"Ahhhhhh" I exhaled as I felt the last of my long awaited piss trickle out of me. Just as I started to shake, I felt an all to familiar feeling; a cold chill running up the back of my spine and I knew I had lost more than just my urine.
|
Wait a minute, you're telling me those motherfuckers have all seen me naked? OK, I'm going outside until the snow don't feel cold no more.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
George Brownlee was a spectacularly unlucky man. Or rather, just a particularly morose one--prone to bouts of depression and fits of suicide. All told, he had probably died hundreds of times in as many worlds. And it seems his many manifestations mostly all had a penchant for killing themselves.
*This* George Brownlee--the one *we're* concerned about--had spent his whole life experiencing the shudders of his many others as they left their own Earths. *Petite morts*, one after another--but far less fun. With each death, they collapsed into the remaining George Brownlees, weighting each subsequent one down with the Atlassian burden of their collective *ennui*.
Some had died of other causes, before they had the chance to succumb to their own hand. There had been house fires that killed a few, the stray mugging here and there. The casual accidents and deaths of any sort of civilized world. But most of the George Brownlees had chosen to hang, poison, shoot, suffocate, and--in a surprisingly high number of cases--decapitate themselves.
*Our* George Brownlee is just one of a handful left--they're not a hardy bunch. He, like all the others, has sandy, limp hair and a downturned mouth that could have looked sensual, if he had ever felt sensual. Unlike the other George Brownlees, this one--ours--has a paper-cut thin scar on his right temple, a memento from an errant basketball that dragged down his glasses and its small, unprotected screw down his face.
To be fair, our George Brownlee is not at all that important. He will never serve in political office, as three other Georges have. He is not a doctor (18 former Georges), a teacher (27), or even a security guard (like a shocking 43 dead George Brownlees). He will not even be any sort of inspirational figure, not even to his own children, who will forever regard him as a bit tedious.
Our George Brownlee manages a supermarket. And he also manages the dull, throbbing peer pressure of all the other George Brownlees past, who urge him to do what they all have done, and die.
That would be a shame. Not because our George is anything special--he's clearly not--but because one of the other Georges still left is. There are only a few, but this one, not-our-George, will one day pull himself together, ponder the beauty of solar energy, and eventually wrangle together the biggest energy bill that another version of our Earth has ever seen.
But not of he succumbs to the Brownlee curse--the inevitable suffocation by all his other versions whispering for him to join them.
So, you see, it's rather essential for *our* George Brownlee to make it through his mediocre life. Because if he were to take it, that would be the straw breaking not-our-George's back.
And so--maybe our George Brownlee is his own sort of hero, as he lackadaisically stocks shelves with canned pineapple and tells his cashiers canned jokes. He is maybe a hero for taking the drugs that silence the whispers of Georges past, even though they make him so, so tedious.
Our George's chills used to come like ague, but nowadays there are far fewer George Brownlees left to try killing themselves. And for now, not-our-George is about to extend a pale leg outside of his covers, and turn toward the sun, and dream of what it can do.
|
Wait a minute, you're telling me those motherfuckers have all seen me naked? OK, I'm going outside until the snow don't feel cold no more.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm new on reddit. Sort of. And I know this is late, by nearly a month, but this is the post that got me to finally sign up for reddit and well this is is my attempt at a writing prompt. Also very first post on reddit.
Ripples
She stood before the still water like a whisper waiting to be heard. Timeless? Forgotten? Alone? It’s all figurative when it happens in your head, but is all this really just happening in my head? I can feel their pain, their loss..wait is it my pain and my loss? She swayed to the melancholy on the balls of her feet, eager to escape the narrative. Her fingers clutched bare arms. What frantic reality gave birth to something this sinister, where the woes of the dead are only piled on another. She shut her eyes and heaved a long sigh. It might end here, it must. The thought of someone else going through this, kills me. Her eyelids flew open. Grave laughter filled the void, she saw the humour in her own thoughts. A stray tear dibbled out her broken enthusiasm; soon the tears marched down her face. Her vision mumbled, grey plates of perforated shadows feel before it; she looked past the curtain and saw the lake. It sat in a bowl as wide as a mistake and as far as a nun’s faith. Oval and still, its waters neither shone nor moved. She waddled into its caress, breaching the surface and floating like lilies on a pond. The water ate her up in quick drawls. Their feelings hit before the cold; lost hopes, happy afternoons, warm funerals, and endless chills. The bottom of the lake hollowed out, feeling wider than before, an impeding sense of being swallowed overwhelmed her. All these moments that once defined somebody will drown with me. Somehow the added baggage only makes me feel lighter. She saw herself glide along, cutting a trail of intersecting wings. The lake spew images of herself drifting towards each other, towards the centre. They comforted her, they called out to her and then disappeared. Soon, the memories reached her throat and in one whole scoop washed over her head. A ripple spread from the point where her head submerged, someone somewhere felt a chill.
|
Wait a minute, you're telling me those motherfuckers have all seen me naked? OK, I'm going outside until the snow don't feel cold no more.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
Wait a minute, you're telling me those motherfuckers have all seen me naked? OK, I'm going outside until the snow don't feel cold no more.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
George Brownlee was a spectacularly unlucky man. Or rather, just a particularly morose one--prone to bouts of depression and fits of suicide. All told, he had probably died hundreds of times in as many worlds. And it seems his many manifestations mostly all had a penchant for killing themselves.
*This* George Brownlee--the one *we're* concerned about--had spent his whole life experiencing the shudders of his many others as they left their own Earths. *Petite morts*, one after another--but far less fun. With each death, they collapsed into the remaining George Brownlees, weighting each subsequent one down with the Atlassian burden of their collective *ennui*.
Some had died of other causes, before they had the chance to succumb to their own hand. There had been house fires that killed a few, the stray mugging here and there. The casual accidents and deaths of any sort of civilized world. But most of the George Brownlees had chosen to hang, poison, shoot, suffocate, and--in a surprisingly high number of cases--decapitate themselves.
*Our* George Brownlee is just one of a handful left--they're not a hardy bunch. He, like all the others, has sandy, limp hair and a downturned mouth that could have looked sensual, if he had ever felt sensual. Unlike the other George Brownlees, this one--ours--has a paper-cut thin scar on his right temple, a memento from an errant basketball that dragged down his glasses and its small, unprotected screw down his face.
To be fair, our George Brownlee is not at all that important. He will never serve in political office, as three other Georges have. He is not a doctor (18 former Georges), a teacher (27), or even a security guard (like a shocking 43 dead George Brownlees). He will not even be any sort of inspirational figure, not even to his own children, who will forever regard him as a bit tedious.
Our George Brownlee manages a supermarket. And he also manages the dull, throbbing peer pressure of all the other George Brownlees past, who urge him to do what they all have done, and die.
That would be a shame. Not because our George is anything special--he's clearly not--but because one of the other Georges still left is. There are only a few, but this one, not-our-George, will one day pull himself together, ponder the beauty of solar energy, and eventually wrangle together the biggest energy bill that another version of our Earth has ever seen.
But not of he succumbs to the Brownlee curse--the inevitable suffocation by all his other versions whispering for him to join them.
So, you see, it's rather essential for *our* George Brownlee to make it through his mediocre life. Because if he were to take it, that would be the straw breaking not-our-George's back.
And so--maybe our George Brownlee is his own sort of hero, as he lackadaisically stocks shelves with canned pineapple and tells his cashiers canned jokes. He is maybe a hero for taking the drugs that silence the whispers of Georges past, even though they make him so, so tedious.
Our George's chills used to come like ague, but nowadays there are far fewer George Brownlees left to try killing themselves. And for now, not-our-George is about to extend a pale leg outside of his covers, and turn toward the sun, and dream of what it can do.
|
Tuesdays are harder than Mondays. You've already worked a full day and the majority of the work week is still staring you in the face. It's even tougher when your cubicle has a view of the crisp blue morning sky outside. What I wouldn't give for a reason not to be at work...
Sarah looks beautiful today. I mean, she looks beautiful everyday, but today it almost seems like she's shining. Her radiant blonde hair let down past her shoulders and her soft blue eyes are enough to make me weak in the knees. Even though she sits just ten feet away, I've never managed to muster the courage to talk to her. I mean *really* talk to her. "I'm going to do it today", I mumbled nervously. It was almost a daily mantra.
She glanced over my direction and caught me mid-stare. Crap. I darted my eyes quickly back to the screen ahead of me and began typing again. I heard a soft chuckle shared between her and Barry. Why was I *staring* so long. People can tell when you're looking at them... almost like you're focusing invisible energy their direction.
Footsteps. She's coming to talk to me. I can feel my cheeks heat up as I double-down on my bluff by hammering away at the keys in front of me.
"Good morning." she chirped with a coy half-smile. Even when she's poking at me she's perfect.
"Sarah! H-Hi. Uh, yeah, good morning! How are you?" I wondered if she could tell how flustered I was. *Maintain composure. You can do this.*
"A little tired and a little hungry, but fine otherwise. Y-"
"We should go for a coffee!" I blurted with near immediate regret. If there's one thing my pops didn't teach me, it was how to talk to women.
"Oh. Isn't it a little early for a break? I mean-"
"Goodness, you're right." I interrupted. "I don't know what I was thinking... Sorry. I mean, work only just started, right? Heh... It'd be pretty weird if we just left after arriving..."
"Actually, I'm starving. I slept through my alarm this morning and didn't have time to do anything but rush to work. Think anyone would notice if we left?"
Another smile. This woman could surely unravel me like a kitten to a ball of yarn. A bead of sweat found its way to my brow as I considered the conversation with my boss if my desk was discovered empty. I doubted I had the nerve to play hooky, let alone head out for an impromptu breakfast with Sarah. I knew I had to decline.
________________________________________________________________
I didn't manage to say a word the entire 39-storey elevator ride down. I stood there rigid as a board and felt the pressure in my ears build until the release just before we made it to the ground floor. The late summer morning was a bit chilly and helped me get my faculties about me.
"So," she asked. "Where are we headed?"
"I know a little place just off Church St." I suggested.
"Sounds great!"
The city engulfed us in a rehearsal of hums, honks and chatter. After a short walk, we found ourselves at a small espresso bar perfumed with the wonderful aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. Though I've always loved the smell, the taste never really appealed. She ordered a latte macchiato and biscotti and I asked for a tea. We found a lone table at the back of the crowded cafe and sat down.
Why is it that, when you so desperately want to talk, it's so hard to find something to say? She spoke first.
"So, rumour has it you're a bit of a nerd."
I nearly sputtered out some tea. Great. The woman of my dreams thinks I'm a dork.
"Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that. I guess Barry must have let that go, huh? I just really like to interact with people and I find games to be the best medium to do so. Video games... board games... I guess that is pretty nerdy."
"That's not so bad." She chimed. "You know, I enjoy-"
**BOOM**
*Edit: Up to three parts now. Wonder how many people have figured it out. You're a smart bunch. Please don't spoil the reveal! :)*
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm new on reddit. Sort of. And I know this is late, by nearly a month, but this is the post that got me to finally sign up for reddit and well this is is my attempt at a writing prompt. Also very first post on reddit.
Ripples
She stood before the still water like a whisper waiting to be heard. Timeless? Forgotten? Alone? It’s all figurative when it happens in your head, but is all this really just happening in my head? I can feel their pain, their loss..wait is it my pain and my loss? She swayed to the melancholy on the balls of her feet, eager to escape the narrative. Her fingers clutched bare arms. What frantic reality gave birth to something this sinister, where the woes of the dead are only piled on another. She shut her eyes and heaved a long sigh. It might end here, it must. The thought of someone else going through this, kills me. Her eyelids flew open. Grave laughter filled the void, she saw the humour in her own thoughts. A stray tear dibbled out her broken enthusiasm; soon the tears marched down her face. Her vision mumbled, grey plates of perforated shadows feel before it; she looked past the curtain and saw the lake. It sat in a bowl as wide as a mistake and as far as a nun’s faith. Oval and still, its waters neither shone nor moved. She waddled into its caress, breaching the surface and floating like lilies on a pond. The water ate her up in quick drawls. Their feelings hit before the cold; lost hopes, happy afternoons, warm funerals, and endless chills. The bottom of the lake hollowed out, feeling wider than before, an impeding sense of being swallowed overwhelmed her. All these moments that once defined somebody will drown with me. Somehow the added baggage only makes me feel lighter. She saw herself glide along, cutting a trail of intersecting wings. The lake spew images of herself drifting towards each other, towards the centre. They comforted her, they called out to her and then disappeared. Soon, the memories reached her throat and in one whole scoop washed over her head. A ripple spread from the point where her head submerged, someone somewhere felt a chill.
|
Tuesdays are harder than Mondays. You've already worked a full day and the majority of the work week is still staring you in the face. It's even tougher when your cubicle has a view of the crisp blue morning sky outside. What I wouldn't give for a reason not to be at work...
Sarah looks beautiful today. I mean, she looks beautiful everyday, but today it almost seems like she's shining. Her radiant blonde hair let down past her shoulders and her soft blue eyes are enough to make me weak in the knees. Even though she sits just ten feet away, I've never managed to muster the courage to talk to her. I mean *really* talk to her. "I'm going to do it today", I mumbled nervously. It was almost a daily mantra.
She glanced over my direction and caught me mid-stare. Crap. I darted my eyes quickly back to the screen ahead of me and began typing again. I heard a soft chuckle shared between her and Barry. Why was I *staring* so long. People can tell when you're looking at them... almost like you're focusing invisible energy their direction.
Footsteps. She's coming to talk to me. I can feel my cheeks heat up as I double-down on my bluff by hammering away at the keys in front of me.
"Good morning." she chirped with a coy half-smile. Even when she's poking at me she's perfect.
"Sarah! H-Hi. Uh, yeah, good morning! How are you?" I wondered if she could tell how flustered I was. *Maintain composure. You can do this.*
"A little tired and a little hungry, but fine otherwise. Y-"
"We should go for a coffee!" I blurted with near immediate regret. If there's one thing my pops didn't teach me, it was how to talk to women.
"Oh. Isn't it a little early for a break? I mean-"
"Goodness, you're right." I interrupted. "I don't know what I was thinking... Sorry. I mean, work only just started, right? Heh... It'd be pretty weird if we just left after arriving..."
"Actually, I'm starving. I slept through my alarm this morning and didn't have time to do anything but rush to work. Think anyone would notice if we left?"
Another smile. This woman could surely unravel me like a kitten to a ball of yarn. A bead of sweat found its way to my brow as I considered the conversation with my boss if my desk was discovered empty. I doubted I had the nerve to play hooky, let alone head out for an impromptu breakfast with Sarah. I knew I had to decline.
________________________________________________________________
I didn't manage to say a word the entire 39-storey elevator ride down. I stood there rigid as a board and felt the pressure in my ears build until the release just before we made it to the ground floor. The late summer morning was a bit chilly and helped me get my faculties about me.
"So," she asked. "Where are we headed?"
"I know a little place just off Church St." I suggested.
"Sounds great!"
The city engulfed us in a rehearsal of hums, honks and chatter. After a short walk, we found ourselves at a small espresso bar perfumed with the wonderful aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. Though I've always loved the smell, the taste never really appealed. She ordered a latte macchiato and biscotti and I asked for a tea. We found a lone table at the back of the crowded cafe and sat down.
Why is it that, when you so desperately want to talk, it's so hard to find something to say? She spoke first.
"So, rumour has it you're a bit of a nerd."
I nearly sputtered out some tea. Great. The woman of my dreams thinks I'm a dork.
"Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that. I guess Barry must have let that go, huh? I just really like to interact with people and I find games to be the best medium to do so. Video games... board games... I guess that is pretty nerdy."
"That's not so bad." She chimed. "You know, I enjoy-"
**BOOM**
*Edit: Up to three parts now. Wonder how many people have figured it out. You're a smart bunch. Please don't spoil the reveal! :)*
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
George Brownlee was a spectacularly unlucky man. Or rather, just a particularly morose one--prone to bouts of depression and fits of suicide. All told, he had probably died hundreds of times in as many worlds. And it seems his many manifestations mostly all had a penchant for killing themselves.
*This* George Brownlee--the one *we're* concerned about--had spent his whole life experiencing the shudders of his many others as they left their own Earths. *Petite morts*, one after another--but far less fun. With each death, they collapsed into the remaining George Brownlees, weighting each subsequent one down with the Atlassian burden of their collective *ennui*.
Some had died of other causes, before they had the chance to succumb to their own hand. There had been house fires that killed a few, the stray mugging here and there. The casual accidents and deaths of any sort of civilized world. But most of the George Brownlees had chosen to hang, poison, shoot, suffocate, and--in a surprisingly high number of cases--decapitate themselves.
*Our* George Brownlee is just one of a handful left--they're not a hardy bunch. He, like all the others, has sandy, limp hair and a downturned mouth that could have looked sensual, if he had ever felt sensual. Unlike the other George Brownlees, this one--ours--has a paper-cut thin scar on his right temple, a memento from an errant basketball that dragged down his glasses and its small, unprotected screw down his face.
To be fair, our George Brownlee is not at all that important. He will never serve in political office, as three other Georges have. He is not a doctor (18 former Georges), a teacher (27), or even a security guard (like a shocking 43 dead George Brownlees). He will not even be any sort of inspirational figure, not even to his own children, who will forever regard him as a bit tedious.
Our George Brownlee manages a supermarket. And he also manages the dull, throbbing peer pressure of all the other George Brownlees past, who urge him to do what they all have done, and die.
That would be a shame. Not because our George is anything special--he's clearly not--but because one of the other Georges still left is. There are only a few, but this one, not-our-George, will one day pull himself together, ponder the beauty of solar energy, and eventually wrangle together the biggest energy bill that another version of our Earth has ever seen.
But not of he succumbs to the Brownlee curse--the inevitable suffocation by all his other versions whispering for him to join them.
So, you see, it's rather essential for *our* George Brownlee to make it through his mediocre life. Because if he were to take it, that would be the straw breaking not-our-George's back.
And so--maybe our George Brownlee is his own sort of hero, as he lackadaisically stocks shelves with canned pineapple and tells his cashiers canned jokes. He is maybe a hero for taking the drugs that silence the whispers of Georges past, even though they make him so, so tedious.
Our George's chills used to come like ague, but nowadays there are far fewer George Brownlees left to try killing themselves. And for now, not-our-George is about to extend a pale leg outside of his covers, and turn toward the sun, and dream of what it can do.
|
Hi. My name is Indigo. Yes, like the color, shut up. I’m just your average twenty-five year old male living his life in California. My life is all about work. Work work work work work work work. Wake up early to go to work. Deal with problems at work. Come home exhausted from work. Get emails about work while at home. Get ready for work the next day. I’m tired of it. I wish my life were more exciting.
Well, I got my wish.
It started off slowly. Occasionally, I’d feel a chill in the air. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Usually it happened when going to the bathroom, y’know, the pissing shiver you get sometimes. Then it started to happen more frequently, and, not in the bathroom. It would happen when going to bed, when jacking off, or even just sitting there eating a bowl of freaking cereal. It became a real hassle. It started to worry me that something was wrong with my brain, some defect that laid dormant my entire life but is just now starting to reveal itself.
I went to the hospital to get it checked out. The doctor checked my pulse, my temperature, shined a light in my eye, shoved a black cone in my ear, held down my tongue while I said,”Ahhhhh.” The works.
Finally, he sat down in his backless, spinning, circular chair and said, “What seems to be the problem today... Indigo?” he says my name with a question as if asking me he’s saying it right.
I opened my mouth to tell him what’s wrong, but I had no idea where to start. After a long pause, with my mouth hanging open stupidly, I finally got out, “Do you believe in ghosts, doctor?”
The doctor’s look of surprise says he definitely hadn’t heard that one before. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said slowly, calculatingly.
“Well, I keep having these... chills. The room goes cold and I feel a shiver down my spine.”
“Chills? So, your first logical step was... ghosts?”
“Yeah, that was my best explanation. That’s why I came to you, doc.”
“Hrm,” the doctor said, pondering. “Well, there are some tests we can perform, if you can afford them.”
“Whatever you need doc. I got the best insurance I could find. I’m cautious like that.” The doctor began to perform all kinds of tests. EKG, MRI, X-RAY, and many other acronyms that he couldn’t remember. All of them came without significant results.
“I am completely stumped. I have no idea what is causing your affliction,” the doctor said in frustration. “Maybe it’s all in your head.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “Well, thanks doc,” with as little sarcasm I can muster. “You were all too happy to waste my time and my insurance’s money with those tests though, weren’t you?”
The doctor looked aghast at my statement, but I didn’t wait around for him to refute it, I just left the room.
Weeks passed with a sharp increase in the amount of chills I experience. They happened several times a day. I used to try to count them, but I lost count at around two hundred. It started to affect my work. My co-workers started to notice my shiverings and they’d tease me with names like, “Blue,” because I always seemed so cold.
Frustration and anger filled my days. All I wanted to know is why! Why does this keep happening, over and over and over again?!
Well, I got my answer.
It was a normal Saturday afternoon, where I didn’t have to go to work. I had plans later that night to meet up with friends at a bar walking distance from where I lived. There was a bang at the front door, as if someone were trying to break it down. I stopped my hand halfway to my mouth with a spoon filled with the soup I was eating. Silence. Another loud bang at the door and it falls to the ground with a thud. I drop my spoon and run to my bedroom where I know I have a loaded gun to ward off burglars.
I didn’t even get halfway across the hall when a knee found my groin. A large hand grabbed the back of my head by the hair as I was falling. He pulled me up roughly, and I saw the most bizarre sight of my life. Two men stand on either side of a strangely dressed man with the third holding me up. Each of them were dressed in extremely flashy, neon colored clothes that seemed to light up the room more than the florescent bulbs in the ceiling. If the men beside him were considered flashy, the man standing between them was blinding. I would’ve thought him and his entourage looked hilarious if the situation were different. He had a malevolent grin on his face.
He opened his mouth and an odd, warbling effect accompanied his voice, as if it were coming from speakers on his collar. “I found you again, little bitch.” He then went on to tell me his master plan, not unlike a bond villain. His monologue never ceased for a second, he seemed to take breaths imperceptibly fast so his speech could continue uninterrupted.
Apparently, in some far distant universe, I had pissed this guy off. Really, really bad. So he vowed he would kill me a thousand times. He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Three hundred and forty-three,” before he jabs a knife into my sternum. I never even got to find out what I even did to piss him off.
.............................
Hi. My name is Violet. Yes, like the color, shut up. I know it’s a girl’s name, shut up again. I’m just your average twenty-five year old male living in Mumbai. That’s somewhere in India, not sure where exactly. I moved here for the women. My life is all about sex. Sex sex sex sex sex sex sex. Wake up with a woman in my bed. Find women everywhere I go. Bring women home to have sex. Get texts from women I’ve sexed in the past. I love my life. It’s exactly what I want it to be.
It all went so wrong.
It started off slowly, but grew quickly. Chills when doing ordinary activities, such as pissing, eating waffles, and it even started to affect me when having sex. At times like this, I wish I were more careful with my money so I could afford to go to the doctor’s to get it checked out. No insurance meant no medical care, and paying for a doctor’s visit outright was ridiculous.
It was affecting my love life. While having sex, I’d get these weird spasms of chills and it would completely demoralize me. The woman I was with at the time would invariably laugh at me, call me a joke, and leave, saying that I was such a disappointing fuck and hadn’t lived up to their friends’ hype.This chills thing pissed me the fuck off. I hated it. I wished it would just go away.
Well, in a way, it did.
On an average day in summer, after a particularly bad day of striking out with women in one of my usual spots (I had a couple massive chills that made them weary) I went home, frustrated. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went to bed early.
A loud crash in the next room woke me up and I threw off my covers and ran toward the noise. As I entered the room, a sharp pain met me in the side of the head. I fell to the ground, bleeding from my ear. The room spins maddeningly. I’m picked up roughly from the ground and made to stand, but I’m so wobbly that whoever picked me up simply had to hold me there.
A brightly colored man swam into view. As he spoke, I could barely understand him, a high-pitched noise began to drown him out from my busted ear. He said something about me doing something to him. I couldn’t remember ever seeing his face before. I try to speak, but whatever broke my ear, must’ve damaged my brain too, for speech came out warbled, disjointed, and unintelligible. He stopped his speech mid-sentence, looked at the state I was in, and gave up on his long-winded explanation. He leaned in close and whispered into my good ear, “Four hundred and twelve.” He took a needle from a hidden pocket in his clothes and injected something into my veins. Pain spidered out from the injection site and I fell twitching to the ground as whoever held me up released me. The last thing I saw was bright lights, that walked away from me.
.............................
Hi. My name is Ruby. Yes, like the color. I’m just an unimportant twenty-five year old female. The doctors say I’m depressed and gave me drugs to help. I’ve tried to live my life, but it’s just too much work. I suck. Life sucks. Everything sucks. No one needs me and no one would miss me if I just disappeared.
Life got even harder.
It started off slowly, and crippled me immediately. Chills ran through my body, and the doctors all thought it was adverse affects of the medication they put me on, so they started to wean me off of them. Nothing helped. I hated that I was losing my mind. The shivers made me wish even more strongly that I was dead.
Well, I got my wish.
Early Monday morning, after I had called into work lying I was sick, I heard a knock on the door. I went to answer it and for one blinding moment, I thought the circus had paraded itself to my front door. I got one glimpse of the brightly dressed men, before a strong hand clamped around my throat. My survival instinct took hold and I clawed at his hand with my nails, but he just squeezed harder. A grin spread across his face. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Six hundred and ninety-three.” That’s all I heard before I blacked out.
.............................
Cont.
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm new on reddit. Sort of. And I know this is late, by nearly a month, but this is the post that got me to finally sign up for reddit and well this is is my attempt at a writing prompt. Also very first post on reddit.
Ripples
She stood before the still water like a whisper waiting to be heard. Timeless? Forgotten? Alone? It’s all figurative when it happens in your head, but is all this really just happening in my head? I can feel their pain, their loss..wait is it my pain and my loss? She swayed to the melancholy on the balls of her feet, eager to escape the narrative. Her fingers clutched bare arms. What frantic reality gave birth to something this sinister, where the woes of the dead are only piled on another. She shut her eyes and heaved a long sigh. It might end here, it must. The thought of someone else going through this, kills me. Her eyelids flew open. Grave laughter filled the void, she saw the humour in her own thoughts. A stray tear dibbled out her broken enthusiasm; soon the tears marched down her face. Her vision mumbled, grey plates of perforated shadows feel before it; she looked past the curtain and saw the lake. It sat in a bowl as wide as a mistake and as far as a nun’s faith. Oval and still, its waters neither shone nor moved. She waddled into its caress, breaching the surface and floating like lilies on a pond. The water ate her up in quick drawls. Their feelings hit before the cold; lost hopes, happy afternoons, warm funerals, and endless chills. The bottom of the lake hollowed out, feeling wider than before, an impeding sense of being swallowed overwhelmed her. All these moments that once defined somebody will drown with me. Somehow the added baggage only makes me feel lighter. She saw herself glide along, cutting a trail of intersecting wings. The lake spew images of herself drifting towards each other, towards the centre. They comforted her, they called out to her and then disappeared. Soon, the memories reached her throat and in one whole scoop washed over her head. A ripple spread from the point where her head submerged, someone somewhere felt a chill.
|
Hi. My name is Indigo. Yes, like the color, shut up. I’m just your average twenty-five year old male living his life in California. My life is all about work. Work work work work work work work. Wake up early to go to work. Deal with problems at work. Come home exhausted from work. Get emails about work while at home. Get ready for work the next day. I’m tired of it. I wish my life were more exciting.
Well, I got my wish.
It started off slowly. Occasionally, I’d feel a chill in the air. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Usually it happened when going to the bathroom, y’know, the pissing shiver you get sometimes. Then it started to happen more frequently, and, not in the bathroom. It would happen when going to bed, when jacking off, or even just sitting there eating a bowl of freaking cereal. It became a real hassle. It started to worry me that something was wrong with my brain, some defect that laid dormant my entire life but is just now starting to reveal itself.
I went to the hospital to get it checked out. The doctor checked my pulse, my temperature, shined a light in my eye, shoved a black cone in my ear, held down my tongue while I said,”Ahhhhh.” The works.
Finally, he sat down in his backless, spinning, circular chair and said, “What seems to be the problem today... Indigo?” he says my name with a question as if asking me he’s saying it right.
I opened my mouth to tell him what’s wrong, but I had no idea where to start. After a long pause, with my mouth hanging open stupidly, I finally got out, “Do you believe in ghosts, doctor?”
The doctor’s look of surprise says he definitely hadn’t heard that one before. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said slowly, calculatingly.
“Well, I keep having these... chills. The room goes cold and I feel a shiver down my spine.”
“Chills? So, your first logical step was... ghosts?”
“Yeah, that was my best explanation. That’s why I came to you, doc.”
“Hrm,” the doctor said, pondering. “Well, there are some tests we can perform, if you can afford them.”
“Whatever you need doc. I got the best insurance I could find. I’m cautious like that.” The doctor began to perform all kinds of tests. EKG, MRI, X-RAY, and many other acronyms that he couldn’t remember. All of them came without significant results.
“I am completely stumped. I have no idea what is causing your affliction,” the doctor said in frustration. “Maybe it’s all in your head.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “Well, thanks doc,” with as little sarcasm I can muster. “You were all too happy to waste my time and my insurance’s money with those tests though, weren’t you?”
The doctor looked aghast at my statement, but I didn’t wait around for him to refute it, I just left the room.
Weeks passed with a sharp increase in the amount of chills I experience. They happened several times a day. I used to try to count them, but I lost count at around two hundred. It started to affect my work. My co-workers started to notice my shiverings and they’d tease me with names like, “Blue,” because I always seemed so cold.
Frustration and anger filled my days. All I wanted to know is why! Why does this keep happening, over and over and over again?!
Well, I got my answer.
It was a normal Saturday afternoon, where I didn’t have to go to work. I had plans later that night to meet up with friends at a bar walking distance from where I lived. There was a bang at the front door, as if someone were trying to break it down. I stopped my hand halfway to my mouth with a spoon filled with the soup I was eating. Silence. Another loud bang at the door and it falls to the ground with a thud. I drop my spoon and run to my bedroom where I know I have a loaded gun to ward off burglars.
I didn’t even get halfway across the hall when a knee found my groin. A large hand grabbed the back of my head by the hair as I was falling. He pulled me up roughly, and I saw the most bizarre sight of my life. Two men stand on either side of a strangely dressed man with the third holding me up. Each of them were dressed in extremely flashy, neon colored clothes that seemed to light up the room more than the florescent bulbs in the ceiling. If the men beside him were considered flashy, the man standing between them was blinding. I would’ve thought him and his entourage looked hilarious if the situation were different. He had a malevolent grin on his face.
He opened his mouth and an odd, warbling effect accompanied his voice, as if it were coming from speakers on his collar. “I found you again, little bitch.” He then went on to tell me his master plan, not unlike a bond villain. His monologue never ceased for a second, he seemed to take breaths imperceptibly fast so his speech could continue uninterrupted.
Apparently, in some far distant universe, I had pissed this guy off. Really, really bad. So he vowed he would kill me a thousand times. He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Three hundred and forty-three,” before he jabs a knife into my sternum. I never even got to find out what I even did to piss him off.
.............................
Hi. My name is Violet. Yes, like the color, shut up. I know it’s a girl’s name, shut up again. I’m just your average twenty-five year old male living in Mumbai. That’s somewhere in India, not sure where exactly. I moved here for the women. My life is all about sex. Sex sex sex sex sex sex sex. Wake up with a woman in my bed. Find women everywhere I go. Bring women home to have sex. Get texts from women I’ve sexed in the past. I love my life. It’s exactly what I want it to be.
It all went so wrong.
It started off slowly, but grew quickly. Chills when doing ordinary activities, such as pissing, eating waffles, and it even started to affect me when having sex. At times like this, I wish I were more careful with my money so I could afford to go to the doctor’s to get it checked out. No insurance meant no medical care, and paying for a doctor’s visit outright was ridiculous.
It was affecting my love life. While having sex, I’d get these weird spasms of chills and it would completely demoralize me. The woman I was with at the time would invariably laugh at me, call me a joke, and leave, saying that I was such a disappointing fuck and hadn’t lived up to their friends’ hype.This chills thing pissed me the fuck off. I hated it. I wished it would just go away.
Well, in a way, it did.
On an average day in summer, after a particularly bad day of striking out with women in one of my usual spots (I had a couple massive chills that made them weary) I went home, frustrated. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went to bed early.
A loud crash in the next room woke me up and I threw off my covers and ran toward the noise. As I entered the room, a sharp pain met me in the side of the head. I fell to the ground, bleeding from my ear. The room spins maddeningly. I’m picked up roughly from the ground and made to stand, but I’m so wobbly that whoever picked me up simply had to hold me there.
A brightly colored man swam into view. As he spoke, I could barely understand him, a high-pitched noise began to drown him out from my busted ear. He said something about me doing something to him. I couldn’t remember ever seeing his face before. I try to speak, but whatever broke my ear, must’ve damaged my brain too, for speech came out warbled, disjointed, and unintelligible. He stopped his speech mid-sentence, looked at the state I was in, and gave up on his long-winded explanation. He leaned in close and whispered into my good ear, “Four hundred and twelve.” He took a needle from a hidden pocket in his clothes and injected something into my veins. Pain spidered out from the injection site and I fell twitching to the ground as whoever held me up released me. The last thing I saw was bright lights, that walked away from me.
.............................
Hi. My name is Ruby. Yes, like the color. I’m just an unimportant twenty-five year old female. The doctors say I’m depressed and gave me drugs to help. I’ve tried to live my life, but it’s just too much work. I suck. Life sucks. Everything sucks. No one needs me and no one would miss me if I just disappeared.
Life got even harder.
It started off slowly, and crippled me immediately. Chills ran through my body, and the doctors all thought it was adverse affects of the medication they put me on, so they started to wean me off of them. Nothing helped. I hated that I was losing my mind. The shivers made me wish even more strongly that I was dead.
Well, I got my wish.
Early Monday morning, after I had called into work lying I was sick, I heard a knock on the door. I went to answer it and for one blinding moment, I thought the circus had paraded itself to my front door. I got one glimpse of the brightly dressed men, before a strong hand clamped around my throat. My survival instinct took hold and I clawed at his hand with my nails, but he just squeezed harder. A grin spread across his face. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Six hundred and ninety-three.” That’s all I heard before I blacked out.
.............................
Cont.
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
George Brownlee was a spectacularly unlucky man. Or rather, just a particularly morose one--prone to bouts of depression and fits of suicide. All told, he had probably died hundreds of times in as many worlds. And it seems his many manifestations mostly all had a penchant for killing themselves.
*This* George Brownlee--the one *we're* concerned about--had spent his whole life experiencing the shudders of his many others as they left their own Earths. *Petite morts*, one after another--but far less fun. With each death, they collapsed into the remaining George Brownlees, weighting each subsequent one down with the Atlassian burden of their collective *ennui*.
Some had died of other causes, before they had the chance to succumb to their own hand. There had been house fires that killed a few, the stray mugging here and there. The casual accidents and deaths of any sort of civilized world. But most of the George Brownlees had chosen to hang, poison, shoot, suffocate, and--in a surprisingly high number of cases--decapitate themselves.
*Our* George Brownlee is just one of a handful left--they're not a hardy bunch. He, like all the others, has sandy, limp hair and a downturned mouth that could have looked sensual, if he had ever felt sensual. Unlike the other George Brownlees, this one--ours--has a paper-cut thin scar on his right temple, a memento from an errant basketball that dragged down his glasses and its small, unprotected screw down his face.
To be fair, our George Brownlee is not at all that important. He will never serve in political office, as three other Georges have. He is not a doctor (18 former Georges), a teacher (27), or even a security guard (like a shocking 43 dead George Brownlees). He will not even be any sort of inspirational figure, not even to his own children, who will forever regard him as a bit tedious.
Our George Brownlee manages a supermarket. And he also manages the dull, throbbing peer pressure of all the other George Brownlees past, who urge him to do what they all have done, and die.
That would be a shame. Not because our George is anything special--he's clearly not--but because one of the other Georges still left is. There are only a few, but this one, not-our-George, will one day pull himself together, ponder the beauty of solar energy, and eventually wrangle together the biggest energy bill that another version of our Earth has ever seen.
But not of he succumbs to the Brownlee curse--the inevitable suffocation by all his other versions whispering for him to join them.
So, you see, it's rather essential for *our* George Brownlee to make it through his mediocre life. Because if he were to take it, that would be the straw breaking not-our-George's back.
And so--maybe our George Brownlee is his own sort of hero, as he lackadaisically stocks shelves with canned pineapple and tells his cashiers canned jokes. He is maybe a hero for taking the drugs that silence the whispers of Georges past, even though they make him so, so tedious.
Our George's chills used to come like ague, but nowadays there are far fewer George Brownlees left to try killing themselves. And for now, not-our-George is about to extend a pale leg outside of his covers, and turn toward the sun, and dream of what it can do.
|
What if, whenever I got chills, an alternate universe version of me had died?
I get chills whenever I listen to my favorite song.
Does it matter?
Are they even real?
I've never met them.
But I do have a deep connection to the song.
Can I ever listen to it again?
What would that mean?
Would it be my fault?
Is it worth it?
Would they have died anyway?
Could I live with myself, not knowing?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm new on reddit. Sort of. And I know this is late, by nearly a month, but this is the post that got me to finally sign up for reddit and well this is is my attempt at a writing prompt. Also very first post on reddit.
Ripples
She stood before the still water like a whisper waiting to be heard. Timeless? Forgotten? Alone? It’s all figurative when it happens in your head, but is all this really just happening in my head? I can feel their pain, their loss..wait is it my pain and my loss? She swayed to the melancholy on the balls of her feet, eager to escape the narrative. Her fingers clutched bare arms. What frantic reality gave birth to something this sinister, where the woes of the dead are only piled on another. She shut her eyes and heaved a long sigh. It might end here, it must. The thought of someone else going through this, kills me. Her eyelids flew open. Grave laughter filled the void, she saw the humour in her own thoughts. A stray tear dibbled out her broken enthusiasm; soon the tears marched down her face. Her vision mumbled, grey plates of perforated shadows feel before it; she looked past the curtain and saw the lake. It sat in a bowl as wide as a mistake and as far as a nun’s faith. Oval and still, its waters neither shone nor moved. She waddled into its caress, breaching the surface and floating like lilies on a pond. The water ate her up in quick drawls. Their feelings hit before the cold; lost hopes, happy afternoons, warm funerals, and endless chills. The bottom of the lake hollowed out, feeling wider than before, an impeding sense of being swallowed overwhelmed her. All these moments that once defined somebody will drown with me. Somehow the added baggage only makes me feel lighter. She saw herself glide along, cutting a trail of intersecting wings. The lake spew images of herself drifting towards each other, towards the centre. They comforted her, they called out to her and then disappeared. Soon, the memories reached her throat and in one whole scoop washed over her head. A ripple spread from the point where her head submerged, someone somewhere felt a chill.
|
What if, whenever I got chills, an alternate universe version of me had died?
I get chills whenever I listen to my favorite song.
Does it matter?
Are they even real?
I've never met them.
But I do have a deep connection to the song.
Can I ever listen to it again?
What would that mean?
Would it be my fault?
Is it worth it?
Would they have died anyway?
Could I live with myself, not knowing?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
George Brownlee was a spectacularly unlucky man. Or rather, just a particularly morose one--prone to bouts of depression and fits of suicide. All told, he had probably died hundreds of times in as many worlds. And it seems his many manifestations mostly all had a penchant for killing themselves.
*This* George Brownlee--the one *we're* concerned about--had spent his whole life experiencing the shudders of his many others as they left their own Earths. *Petite morts*, one after another--but far less fun. With each death, they collapsed into the remaining George Brownlees, weighting each subsequent one down with the Atlassian burden of their collective *ennui*.
Some had died of other causes, before they had the chance to succumb to their own hand. There had been house fires that killed a few, the stray mugging here and there. The casual accidents and deaths of any sort of civilized world. But most of the George Brownlees had chosen to hang, poison, shoot, suffocate, and--in a surprisingly high number of cases--decapitate themselves.
*Our* George Brownlee is just one of a handful left--they're not a hardy bunch. He, like all the others, has sandy, limp hair and a downturned mouth that could have looked sensual, if he had ever felt sensual. Unlike the other George Brownlees, this one--ours--has a paper-cut thin scar on his right temple, a memento from an errant basketball that dragged down his glasses and its small, unprotected screw down his face.
To be fair, our George Brownlee is not at all that important. He will never serve in political office, as three other Georges have. He is not a doctor (18 former Georges), a teacher (27), or even a security guard (like a shocking 43 dead George Brownlees). He will not even be any sort of inspirational figure, not even to his own children, who will forever regard him as a bit tedious.
Our George Brownlee manages a supermarket. And he also manages the dull, throbbing peer pressure of all the other George Brownlees past, who urge him to do what they all have done, and die.
That would be a shame. Not because our George is anything special--he's clearly not--but because one of the other Georges still left is. There are only a few, but this one, not-our-George, will one day pull himself together, ponder the beauty of solar energy, and eventually wrangle together the biggest energy bill that another version of our Earth has ever seen.
But not of he succumbs to the Brownlee curse--the inevitable suffocation by all his other versions whispering for him to join them.
So, you see, it's rather essential for *our* George Brownlee to make it through his mediocre life. Because if he were to take it, that would be the straw breaking not-our-George's back.
And so--maybe our George Brownlee is his own sort of hero, as he lackadaisically stocks shelves with canned pineapple and tells his cashiers canned jokes. He is maybe a hero for taking the drugs that silence the whispers of Georges past, even though they make him so, so tedious.
Our George's chills used to come like ague, but nowadays there are far fewer George Brownlees left to try killing themselves. And for now, not-our-George is about to extend a pale leg outside of his covers, and turn toward the sun, and dream of what it can do.
|
Way back when there was a superstition that it was triggered by someone walking over your grave. Wherever that came from, someone either had a vague idea what was actually happening, or got lucky. I don’t know too much about it, but the reality was stumbled on shortly after the other dimensions were discovered. We don’t know quite how many there are but it’s likely in the low thousands, the scientists have had cameras and recording devices sent between them for years now and we have a good idea what goes on, but sending anything living through is impossible so no one has been able to visit. Unlike what we see in a lot of fiction there’s no world where hte Nazis one, Dinosaurs and man live together, WWIII happened, history has been pretty much the same, just certain people die at different times which it turns out doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.
It happens a few time a year, increasing as you get older and your chance of dying increases, both in regularity and strength. Physically it’s the same but everyone reacts to it differently, some people have apps or books and keep a track of times and dates, some ignore it and pretend nothing happened, some get so guilty they consider ending it, which brings with it the dilemma that they will be pushing the same feelings onto another them.
Sometimes you’ll feel the shivers close together, when the timelines of a few worlds are well aligned enough that you die in two or more at the same time. Occasionally they will stop you in your tracks when you realise what has happened. On a rare occasion, by far the worst, the timelines are aligned with yours in a way that you know what has happened, a car crash, near drowning, fall, the life flashing before your eyes isn’t yours, it’s the life of the version of you that wasn’t so lucky.
For me recently it’s been different. It started a few weeks back, I was woken with a start, it was almost a convulsion. I figured it must have just been amplified by the hangover to start with, but then it happened again a few hours later. At first I though it must have been two worlds a few hours out of sync, which wouldn’t be that rare, but then it happened again. Over the next few days it continued with increasing regularity and intensity. I paid a visit to the doctor to see if it was something else, figuring it could be down to an illness, but they couldn’t find anything. I tried some of the internet forums, along with the usual conspiracy bullshit, everything's made up, they put something in our water to control us, chemtrails, etc., there were a few instances of this happening to other people, just like me they were scared.
There was only lady who was local, we arranged to meet for a coffee. She was visibly shaken, like me hadn’t slept properly since it started happening and hadn’t left the house much for fear of people thinking we were losing it. We sat in silence and stared at each other for what seemed like hours, just being in the company of someone else who knew what we were going through help more than I had expected. Then I felt it, one of the strongest I’d had, across the table I could see the same happened to her, the coffee slipped out of her hands onto the floor and she crumped, head to her knees and started sobbing. The barista hearing the mug shatter came over to see what had happened, at this point she was inconsolable and I was paralysed in shock. I don’t know how long we were like that for, but when we regained composure we made our apologies and left. Looking back on what followed it probably wasn’t the best option, but we parted ways agreeing to meet back up shortly when we had the energy to converse.
I spent the next few hours thinking over what had happened, were there other versions of us in other worlds going through the same thing? I knew that some of them got the shivers too, so chances are in one of the other worlds another me is also sitting here right now trying to work out what is going on. And the fact we both felt it at the same time, was that coincidence, or was there a chance that there was a world where we were both killed at the same time? Does that somehow make the shiver stronger? Would it explain the emotional pull that came with it? At that point my phone rang, it was her. I’m sorry, she started, I interrupted her and made it clear there was nothing to apologise for, reassured her that I felt the same thing and had pretty much the same reaction. We spoke for a while, with us both feeling vulnerable and alone I invited her to spend the evening at mine, she was a short cab journey away, so agreed she would be round it about half an hour. After we hung up I poured another glass of wine and decided to use the half hour to have a quick shower, hoping it might make me feel a little more human.
Half an hour passed and she didn’t show, it reached an hour and still no show, or response to my calls, my worry turned to fear, I couldn’t call the police as they wouldn’t believe me, or care, I told myself I didn’t know anything about her, she could have got distracted, met up with a friend or family nearby, or just changed her mind about coming to visit someone she had only met once, she owed me nothing. After a few hours I finished the bottle, gave up and went to bed to attempt some sleep.
Something woke me during the night. At first I thought it must have been a shiver, that’s when it dawned on me,I hadn’t had one since the coffee shop earlier, I had got used to them being every hour or so, but this has been pretty much a full day, at least 18 hours, and I had felt nothing. Why had it stopped?
I suddenly felt sick as it crossed my mind, was I the only one left?
Rushing to the bathroom I turned on the taps, feeling the cold water against my face made the sick feeling go away slightly, I retched a couple of times, but nothing came up. Making my way back to bed I checked my phone, there was a missed call and a voicemail, that much have been what woke me up. The call was from an unknown number, a local landline, I dialed my voicemail and put it on speakerphone while I got back into bed.
The instant the message started I froze, it started with just heavy breathing, then she spoke, she sounded even more scared than she had earlier.
It’s too late for me she found me, she started. Run, get as far away as you can, change your face, they’re coming for you. Then she screamed and the lady on the voicemail started asking if I wanted to delete the message.
I hung up and started shaking uncontrollably, I had no idea what she meant, but it scared me to death. That was when I heard the door behind me open, I managed to turn my head, but was paralysed from the neck down. All I could think was how strange it was too look at myself not in a mirror as they raised their hands and I struggled to breathe.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm new on reddit. Sort of. And I know this is late, by nearly a month, but this is the post that got me to finally sign up for reddit and well this is is my attempt at a writing prompt. Also very first post on reddit.
Ripples
She stood before the still water like a whisper waiting to be heard. Timeless? Forgotten? Alone? It’s all figurative when it happens in your head, but is all this really just happening in my head? I can feel their pain, their loss..wait is it my pain and my loss? She swayed to the melancholy on the balls of her feet, eager to escape the narrative. Her fingers clutched bare arms. What frantic reality gave birth to something this sinister, where the woes of the dead are only piled on another. She shut her eyes and heaved a long sigh. It might end here, it must. The thought of someone else going through this, kills me. Her eyelids flew open. Grave laughter filled the void, she saw the humour in her own thoughts. A stray tear dibbled out her broken enthusiasm; soon the tears marched down her face. Her vision mumbled, grey plates of perforated shadows feel before it; she looked past the curtain and saw the lake. It sat in a bowl as wide as a mistake and as far as a nun’s faith. Oval and still, its waters neither shone nor moved. She waddled into its caress, breaching the surface and floating like lilies on a pond. The water ate her up in quick drawls. Their feelings hit before the cold; lost hopes, happy afternoons, warm funerals, and endless chills. The bottom of the lake hollowed out, feeling wider than before, an impeding sense of being swallowed overwhelmed her. All these moments that once defined somebody will drown with me. Somehow the added baggage only makes me feel lighter. She saw herself glide along, cutting a trail of intersecting wings. The lake spew images of herself drifting towards each other, towards the centre. They comforted her, they called out to her and then disappeared. Soon, the memories reached her throat and in one whole scoop washed over her head. A ripple spread from the point where her head submerged, someone somewhere felt a chill.
|
Way back when there was a superstition that it was triggered by someone walking over your grave. Wherever that came from, someone either had a vague idea what was actually happening, or got lucky. I don’t know too much about it, but the reality was stumbled on shortly after the other dimensions were discovered. We don’t know quite how many there are but it’s likely in the low thousands, the scientists have had cameras and recording devices sent between them for years now and we have a good idea what goes on, but sending anything living through is impossible so no one has been able to visit. Unlike what we see in a lot of fiction there’s no world where hte Nazis one, Dinosaurs and man live together, WWIII happened, history has been pretty much the same, just certain people die at different times which it turns out doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.
It happens a few time a year, increasing as you get older and your chance of dying increases, both in regularity and strength. Physically it’s the same but everyone reacts to it differently, some people have apps or books and keep a track of times and dates, some ignore it and pretend nothing happened, some get so guilty they consider ending it, which brings with it the dilemma that they will be pushing the same feelings onto another them.
Sometimes you’ll feel the shivers close together, when the timelines of a few worlds are well aligned enough that you die in two or more at the same time. Occasionally they will stop you in your tracks when you realise what has happened. On a rare occasion, by far the worst, the timelines are aligned with yours in a way that you know what has happened, a car crash, near drowning, fall, the life flashing before your eyes isn’t yours, it’s the life of the version of you that wasn’t so lucky.
For me recently it’s been different. It started a few weeks back, I was woken with a start, it was almost a convulsion. I figured it must have just been amplified by the hangover to start with, but then it happened again a few hours later. At first I though it must have been two worlds a few hours out of sync, which wouldn’t be that rare, but then it happened again. Over the next few days it continued with increasing regularity and intensity. I paid a visit to the doctor to see if it was something else, figuring it could be down to an illness, but they couldn’t find anything. I tried some of the internet forums, along with the usual conspiracy bullshit, everything's made up, they put something in our water to control us, chemtrails, etc., there were a few instances of this happening to other people, just like me they were scared.
There was only lady who was local, we arranged to meet for a coffee. She was visibly shaken, like me hadn’t slept properly since it started happening and hadn’t left the house much for fear of people thinking we were losing it. We sat in silence and stared at each other for what seemed like hours, just being in the company of someone else who knew what we were going through help more than I had expected. Then I felt it, one of the strongest I’d had, across the table I could see the same happened to her, the coffee slipped out of her hands onto the floor and she crumped, head to her knees and started sobbing. The barista hearing the mug shatter came over to see what had happened, at this point she was inconsolable and I was paralysed in shock. I don’t know how long we were like that for, but when we regained composure we made our apologies and left. Looking back on what followed it probably wasn’t the best option, but we parted ways agreeing to meet back up shortly when we had the energy to converse.
I spent the next few hours thinking over what had happened, were there other versions of us in other worlds going through the same thing? I knew that some of them got the shivers too, so chances are in one of the other worlds another me is also sitting here right now trying to work out what is going on. And the fact we both felt it at the same time, was that coincidence, or was there a chance that there was a world where we were both killed at the same time? Does that somehow make the shiver stronger? Would it explain the emotional pull that came with it? At that point my phone rang, it was her. I’m sorry, she started, I interrupted her and made it clear there was nothing to apologise for, reassured her that I felt the same thing and had pretty much the same reaction. We spoke for a while, with us both feeling vulnerable and alone I invited her to spend the evening at mine, she was a short cab journey away, so agreed she would be round it about half an hour. After we hung up I poured another glass of wine and decided to use the half hour to have a quick shower, hoping it might make me feel a little more human.
Half an hour passed and she didn’t show, it reached an hour and still no show, or response to my calls, my worry turned to fear, I couldn’t call the police as they wouldn’t believe me, or care, I told myself I didn’t know anything about her, she could have got distracted, met up with a friend or family nearby, or just changed her mind about coming to visit someone she had only met once, she owed me nothing. After a few hours I finished the bottle, gave up and went to bed to attempt some sleep.
Something woke me during the night. At first I thought it must have been a shiver, that’s when it dawned on me,I hadn’t had one since the coffee shop earlier, I had got used to them being every hour or so, but this has been pretty much a full day, at least 18 hours, and I had felt nothing. Why had it stopped?
I suddenly felt sick as it crossed my mind, was I the only one left?
Rushing to the bathroom I turned on the taps, feeling the cold water against my face made the sick feeling go away slightly, I retched a couple of times, but nothing came up. Making my way back to bed I checked my phone, there was a missed call and a voicemail, that much have been what woke me up. The call was from an unknown number, a local landline, I dialed my voicemail and put it on speakerphone while I got back into bed.
The instant the message started I froze, it started with just heavy breathing, then she spoke, she sounded even more scared than she had earlier.
It’s too late for me she found me, she started. Run, get as far away as you can, change your face, they’re coming for you. Then she screamed and the lady on the voicemail started asking if I wanted to delete the message.
I hung up and started shaking uncontrollably, I had no idea what she meant, but it scared me to death. That was when I heard the door behind me open, I managed to turn my head, but was paralysed from the neck down. All I could think was how strange it was too look at myself not in a mirror as they raised their hands and I struggled to breathe.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
George Brownlee was a spectacularly unlucky man. Or rather, just a particularly morose one--prone to bouts of depression and fits of suicide. All told, he had probably died hundreds of times in as many worlds. And it seems his many manifestations mostly all had a penchant for killing themselves.
*This* George Brownlee--the one *we're* concerned about--had spent his whole life experiencing the shudders of his many others as they left their own Earths. *Petite morts*, one after another--but far less fun. With each death, they collapsed into the remaining George Brownlees, weighting each subsequent one down with the Atlassian burden of their collective *ennui*.
Some had died of other causes, before they had the chance to succumb to their own hand. There had been house fires that killed a few, the stray mugging here and there. The casual accidents and deaths of any sort of civilized world. But most of the George Brownlees had chosen to hang, poison, shoot, suffocate, and--in a surprisingly high number of cases--decapitate themselves.
*Our* George Brownlee is just one of a handful left--they're not a hardy bunch. He, like all the others, has sandy, limp hair and a downturned mouth that could have looked sensual, if he had ever felt sensual. Unlike the other George Brownlees, this one--ours--has a paper-cut thin scar on his right temple, a memento from an errant basketball that dragged down his glasses and its small, unprotected screw down his face.
To be fair, our George Brownlee is not at all that important. He will never serve in political office, as three other Georges have. He is not a doctor (18 former Georges), a teacher (27), or even a security guard (like a shocking 43 dead George Brownlees). He will not even be any sort of inspirational figure, not even to his own children, who will forever regard him as a bit tedious.
Our George Brownlee manages a supermarket. And he also manages the dull, throbbing peer pressure of all the other George Brownlees past, who urge him to do what they all have done, and die.
That would be a shame. Not because our George is anything special--he's clearly not--but because one of the other Georges still left is. There are only a few, but this one, not-our-George, will one day pull himself together, ponder the beauty of solar energy, and eventually wrangle together the biggest energy bill that another version of our Earth has ever seen.
But not of he succumbs to the Brownlee curse--the inevitable suffocation by all his other versions whispering for him to join them.
So, you see, it's rather essential for *our* George Brownlee to make it through his mediocre life. Because if he were to take it, that would be the straw breaking not-our-George's back.
And so--maybe our George Brownlee is his own sort of hero, as he lackadaisically stocks shelves with canned pineapple and tells his cashiers canned jokes. He is maybe a hero for taking the drugs that silence the whispers of Georges past, even though they make him so, so tedious.
Our George's chills used to come like ague, but nowadays there are far fewer George Brownlees left to try killing themselves. And for now, not-our-George is about to extend a pale leg outside of his covers, and turn toward the sun, and dream of what it can do.
|
A crash, a scream. Chills ran up my back. The psychitrist looked at me funny. "Mr Jones, are you quite alright?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he examined me.
I had told them time and time again, it wasn't schitzophrenia, it was real! But they never believed me. I took a deep breath and shook off the forboding feeling my 'episodes' generally brought on.
"Yes, I'm fine" I replied, fighting the urge to look over my shouldar. "I'm just tired" I said, forcing a smile that felt as authentic as a fast food cheeseburger.
Dr Reynheart nodded slowly and wrote down on his clipboard. "Why don't you tell me about your week? Hmm? Get your mind off things?"
I barely had time to open my mouth when I saw a crowbar flying at my face, I ducked of course. Of course I fucking ducked, there was no way I was going to hide that one. "Not too bad, I've really being enjoying the art classes" I replied, trying to relax even though my back was tensing up. Those damn chills again.
The good doctor tutted and made more notes. "I don't know why you don't let us medicate you, it will help with your episodes" he told me, his voice dry and hiding just a hint of a hungarian accent. "You'll feel better, believe me".
It was while I was planning what to say next that the sound of a train horn rang through my ears and I jumped out of my chair, landing in the corner of the room. Millions of alternate dimensions, hundreds of thousands of which I didn't even live to age 30 and several hundred an hour where I was dying at that exact moment. I didn't know if I was insane or cursed, but by god would I have given anything at that moment to not have to find out.
The doctor looked at me and tutted, setting his clipboard down. "Nurse! Bring a sedative, the patient is experiancing severe distress" he shouted, while I watched a fire surround me. If this was hell, I was there...
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm new on reddit. Sort of. And I know this is late, by nearly a month, but this is the post that got me to finally sign up for reddit and well this is is my attempt at a writing prompt. Also very first post on reddit.
Ripples
She stood before the still water like a whisper waiting to be heard. Timeless? Forgotten? Alone? It’s all figurative when it happens in your head, but is all this really just happening in my head? I can feel their pain, their loss..wait is it my pain and my loss? She swayed to the melancholy on the balls of her feet, eager to escape the narrative. Her fingers clutched bare arms. What frantic reality gave birth to something this sinister, where the woes of the dead are only piled on another. She shut her eyes and heaved a long sigh. It might end here, it must. The thought of someone else going through this, kills me. Her eyelids flew open. Grave laughter filled the void, she saw the humour in her own thoughts. A stray tear dibbled out her broken enthusiasm; soon the tears marched down her face. Her vision mumbled, grey plates of perforated shadows feel before it; she looked past the curtain and saw the lake. It sat in a bowl as wide as a mistake and as far as a nun’s faith. Oval and still, its waters neither shone nor moved. She waddled into its caress, breaching the surface and floating like lilies on a pond. The water ate her up in quick drawls. Their feelings hit before the cold; lost hopes, happy afternoons, warm funerals, and endless chills. The bottom of the lake hollowed out, feeling wider than before, an impeding sense of being swallowed overwhelmed her. All these moments that once defined somebody will drown with me. Somehow the added baggage only makes me feel lighter. She saw herself glide along, cutting a trail of intersecting wings. The lake spew images of herself drifting towards each other, towards the centre. They comforted her, they called out to her and then disappeared. Soon, the memories reached her throat and in one whole scoop washed over her head. A ripple spread from the point where her head submerged, someone somewhere felt a chill.
|
A crash, a scream. Chills ran up my back. The psychitrist looked at me funny. "Mr Jones, are you quite alright?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he examined me.
I had told them time and time again, it wasn't schitzophrenia, it was real! But they never believed me. I took a deep breath and shook off the forboding feeling my 'episodes' generally brought on.
"Yes, I'm fine" I replied, fighting the urge to look over my shouldar. "I'm just tired" I said, forcing a smile that felt as authentic as a fast food cheeseburger.
Dr Reynheart nodded slowly and wrote down on his clipboard. "Why don't you tell me about your week? Hmm? Get your mind off things?"
I barely had time to open my mouth when I saw a crowbar flying at my face, I ducked of course. Of course I fucking ducked, there was no way I was going to hide that one. "Not too bad, I've really being enjoying the art classes" I replied, trying to relax even though my back was tensing up. Those damn chills again.
The good doctor tutted and made more notes. "I don't know why you don't let us medicate you, it will help with your episodes" he told me, his voice dry and hiding just a hint of a hungarian accent. "You'll feel better, believe me".
It was while I was planning what to say next that the sound of a train horn rang through my ears and I jumped out of my chair, landing in the corner of the room. Millions of alternate dimensions, hundreds of thousands of which I didn't even live to age 30 and several hundred an hour where I was dying at that exact moment. I didn't know if I was insane or cursed, but by god would I have given anything at that moment to not have to find out.
The doctor looked at me and tutted, setting his clipboard down. "Nurse! Bring a sedative, the patient is experiancing severe distress" he shouted, while I watched a fire surround me. If this was hell, I was there...
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm climbing Mt. Everest.
At the same time I'm ruining millions of other alternate universes.
I feel like crap.
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Funny how killing yourself gives you the chills.
I thought it was just cause I wasn't used to it yet. Killing yourself is very different from demapping some dude off the street or finishing a square fight, but even it becomes a chore once you've done it once, twice, I can't count anymore times.
But no. Every time. I've steeled myself, I've tried a thousand different weapons and surrogates and therapies. Every time I die, I know it. And who did it.
Out of the thousands of millions of me, one died in the womb, tangled in the umbilical cord. That world was lucky. Fourteen died to accidents before the age of 12. The rest have died in battle. About one fourth died in fights in their own worlds. One third made it over at least one universe to fight themselves. The remainders now jump world to world, fighting mercilessly. But only one can win.
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
*Nuclear bombs are very bright.*
This simple fact was burned into everyone's mind as the bombs fell, much like the mushroom cloud was burned into their retinas for one brief moment before a near-instantaneous obliteration.
The emergency broadcast an hour ago had given people a chance to try and come to terms with the ruination of the human race. The announcer had a breakdown while stuttering through the notice that peace talks had failed. Mutually assured destruction: no-one was walking away from this.
Some ran. Some rioted. Some gave up. Many cried.
It didn't matter now - no matter what they spent their brief hour of time doing, all were consumed in the blast.
*****
Meanwhile, in the next nearest clustering of alternate universes, audiences felt a chill of excitement as the midnight showing of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" began.
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Henry Kissinger once said that power was the ultimate aphrodisiac. It doesn't get me *that* excited, but then again, I *did* run for the House, and the night I was elected was probably the most passionate night of my marriage(and, of course, of my secretary's employment).
I long for that pleasure now, of being *chosen.* The people's choice, I was. Long as I might, all the gracious constituents in the world couldn't help me now. One of the two most effective organizations that work to take the voting public's agency away from them, the Democratic National Committee, was now breathing down my neck to vote in favor of a bill. It doesn't matter *what* bill it is, if I don't want to vote for something, I don't need Sabrina Leaonne, Majority Whip, thinking that it's cute to drop by my office and nonchalantly ask me how I intend to finance my reelection campaign.
Rotten bitch.
Times like these call for another kind of power.
Officially, I'm so anti-gun I'd make Jim Brady uncomfortable, but I always keep a loaded .22 in my desk(yes, just a .22, *bite me*). Taking it out now, I remember I should probably double check to make sure my office is empty. It's 1:07 AM, of course nobody's here.
Safety off, right up to the temple, against the soft spot of the skull, but angled so that the bullet would hit my brain and not just go through both my eyes. Can you believe there are people so inept they can't even kill themselves?
String theory is a proposed Unified Field Theory for all of our laws of Physics, but the fun part of it involves infinite universes with infinite possibilities. I put my finger on the trigger. Special, discreet assurance has informed me that part of String Theory is true, namely, the fun part I just described, along with a delightful side-effect that follows immediately after I die in another one of these universes.
"Bang."
I vocalize it, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Grinning, I nearly shout again, "Bang. Boom. Kapow! Game over."
Each incantation of onomatopoeia is followed by a convulsion of my body, with the knowledge that my brain, entangled with brains 100% identical to it in separate universes, is one of the few ones surviving this moment. In other worlds, I *do* pull the trigger, each *bang* or sputtering I evoke with my lips being a genuine gunshot for some other "me", in another universe.
I turn to the window, briefly considering shooting through it and jumping out, waiting for the 14 seconds in between my decision not to go through with it and the drop to the ground, ending the life of another "me."
Coward.
I put the gun back into my desk, reaffirmed of my inherent power. I then exit my office to go home to my faithful wife, contemplating the DNC's oversight of a vital truth I've proved to myself for the umpteenth time.
**Nobody fucks with me except me.**
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
"Dude, I just got the shivers." I said to Kyle.
"What if it's because you died in a parallel universe?" He replied.
"Shut the fuck up Kyle, that's stupid." I whipped back.
"Whatever." He muttered.
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
At first it just seemed like I was crazy, like my memory just didn't work right. Being a kid, I'd talk about how my friend John walked down to the duck pond and got kicked by a mule, and my friend Amy would say, "no, no, John went to the fair and got kicked by a mule." I'd know what I was saying was right, because I was there, but then I'd be corrected by six or seven people. "Johnny was at the fair." There were even times when I forgot I had a sibling, or that I didn't have a sibling. Sometimes their face would stay the same but their name would change. And sometimes, a name I'd called them yesterday wasn't their name -- instead, their name was what I knew them by a month or a year ago. My parents took me to the doctor and tried to explain it. Soon they just gave me medicine in the hopes that it was treatable. It wasn't.
It started affecting my school life when I got older. Mrs. Lafferty would say that Richard Nixon was at the Watergate Hotel, and I'd say that she'd taught us he'd been at the Folsom last semester. The gym teacher, Mr. Holland, would change the rules in baseball where we'd run around a hexagon of bases instead of a diamond. And then, there were the days when things went back to "normal", or at least the most common way of things. Mrs. Lafferty would agree that George Washington crossed the Delaware. Mr. Holland wouldn't use the third hoop in basketball.
It took me a while to realize what was going on, why it always seemed like stories changed, histories changed, the entire world changed without me knowing. When I finally caught on, after looking in the mirror and seeing the odd little changes in my face, in that freckle or this scar, I'd realize what was happening. Eventually, I'd have to try and keep track of what reality I'm in. And eventually I kept it to myself. Even if it was a slightly different set of parents every couple of weeks or months or years, they were still my parents, and I didn't want them to worry.
I could somehow walk through universes, and I never knew which one I'd end up in.
When I got older and out into the world, it started to get worse. There's just so much more to remember out in the real world. Computers, technology, phones, doctors, lawyers, news -- I had to relearn and relearn and relearn. That was okay, though, because I could always eventually catch up somehow. No, the worst part of the real world is that it is dangerous, and with the real world came the jitters.
It always hits me out of nowhere. Sometimes, I'll be at the corner of the street with my foot off the edge of the curb. I'd find myself getting chilly jitters across my skin, and in that second, I'd feel myself walk across the curb, see a car, and get hit. I'd feel it in that minute -- bones crunch, unimaginable pain, road rash down my left side, suffocating blackness -- and then, in that same minute, it would be gone. I would still be standing at the street, and a red Miata with a texting driver would whiz by.
And I'd never go back to that universe. I'd figured out a system of keeping track of which universe I was in, and that one -- that particular one, in fact, my Elbow Scar universe where I never went to ballet practice and Mom didn't die of heart disease and the US invaded Kuwait and stayed-- just vanished. I never woke up in that world ever again.
I try to stay indoors a lot now. I don't get the jitters when I'm inside. It's a little safer, a little bit less dangerous. I can't walk by streets anymore. I don't go near construction sites. I almost never eat anything at a restaurant. My computer is my best friend, on the days and in the worlds where I know how to use it. But even inside my apartment, I'll get the jitters. I might plug in a laptop, and suddenly I'm electrocuted, only to find myself sitting against a wall bawling with the cord plugged in. Or I'll take a bath and fall asleep, the jitters making my heart tap-dance three milliseconds before I wake up and drown in the tub. There are so many, many little ways to die, and I experience them all.
Sometimes I wonder if there are infinite universes, and if this will keep going. I keep aging, after all, and maybe I'll just die when I finally reach old age. But, if there *aren't* infinite universes -- if there *aren't* an unlimited number of me's out there to die -- I'll never know when my jitters are running out. Each one could be the last before I finally draw the unlucky straw and die. Every act is a flip of the coin. Heads I win, tails I lose.
At this rate, I want to lose that coin toss.
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
20 doctors. 15 specialists. Several religious interventions and witch doctors, in Brazil, Peru and Zimbabwe. I've started to lose track of it all.
Nobody can tell my why I won't stop shivering, all throughout the day. There's no pattern- I've counted every day and tried to track one. There's no specific time, and it's not from temperature because it'll happen all year round, rain or shine, snow or sleet. It's not an allergy or a tick...nobody can tell me what it is.
The worst day, I counted 978 shivers. The best was 743. Nothing stops it, not sleep, alcohol, drugs or medicine. I've tried moving around to different places, but nothing works.
I can't have a personal life when I'm shivering all day. I try to see a movie, or go out on a date, or maybe eat at a nice restaurant and no matter what, without fail, I'm interrupted. The joy is tarnished and I'm reminded of my misery.
*God, I'm so tired of the shivers. They won't stop, and it's driving me insane. I hate the feeling, that chill crawling down my spine like a spider. I hate the fact that nobody can tell me why the fuck it won't stop happening.*
*Please, I just want an escape. A way out of this looping hell, where I can't even enjoy a sandwich most days.*
*There is an escape. How could I have missed it? It's so obvious, and it's foolproof. Yes, I'll be free from it. Free at last.*
I put a gun to my head, looking out into a sunset caressing the ocean's horizon with strokes of magenta and pink. The rippling reflection of it on the water was so close I could almost touch it. A most beautiful last sight was before me, so magnificent that it made me doubt my decision.
I shivered again, my spine screaming madly; could I not even have but one moment of peace to admire beauty? My finger hugged the trigger and I fell into the sea, a splash of red and blue dancing around me in the sunset's hue.
Another shiver ran through my body. *God, why can't I stop shivering?*
*I should see a doctor.*
|
"Two-fifty"
The cash register chimes merrily. My hand brushes hers as I hand over the money. My chest two-steps to the left when her hazels meet my deep browns. If only fairy tales came true.
Warm sunlight fills the shop. Gems and rainbows lance the windows. Cast from an armada of puddles on the asphalt. Thunderheads have passed this way. Another hour at breakneck speed and nature will hold a lecture on mid-western weather patterns.
"Have a nice day..."
Turning, I give her my best Humphrey Bogart smile, right hand rising to wave my goodbye. But her hazels have gone all grey. I'm no longer the apple of her eye. Something's larger maw swallows my silhouette on the floor. Cool air kisses my arm where Sol was once the lover. Skin prickles. *Behind me...*
The room explodes.
It rushes past and Death rustles my hair. My old friend reminding me our tee-time approaches, hour TBA. Maroon spills on linoleum. Smells of copper and gasoline complement hot dogs and french fries. A Volvo plaque bigger than my palm hangs smugly over the counter where my shadow once stood.
Here though, the ground is pristine. Gems and rainbows dance now from shards hanging from the window panes. Birds chatter amongst each other about nothing in particular. Sirens announce a terrible thing has happened. Ice runs up my spine and into my chest, squeezing just enough to remind me I survived.
But that's not entirely true.
"Get excited folks! We'll announce the winner at the five!" Seems the DJ survived the last big hit's finale too. No jackpot tonight though. Not without my say.
The bell jangles. Sounding my leave of this tomb. I pass Me on newly cracked storefront glass. One more down, which of us gets to go?
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
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There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
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Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
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I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
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Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm climbing Mt. Everest.
At the same time I'm ruining millions of other alternate universes.
I feel like crap.
|
Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Funny how killing yourself gives you the chills.
I thought it was just cause I wasn't used to it yet. Killing yourself is very different from demapping some dude off the street or finishing a square fight, but even it becomes a chore once you've done it once, twice, I can't count anymore times.
But no. Every time. I've steeled myself, I've tried a thousand different weapons and surrogates and therapies. Every time I die, I know it. And who did it.
Out of the thousands of millions of me, one died in the womb, tangled in the umbilical cord. That world was lucky. Fourteen died to accidents before the age of 12. The rest have died in battle. About one fourth died in fights in their own worlds. One third made it over at least one universe to fight themselves. The remainders now jump world to world, fighting mercilessly. But only one can win.
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Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
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*Nuclear bombs are very bright.*
This simple fact was burned into everyone's mind as the bombs fell, much like the mushroom cloud was burned into their retinas for one brief moment before a near-instantaneous obliteration.
The emergency broadcast an hour ago had given people a chance to try and come to terms with the ruination of the human race. The announcer had a breakdown while stuttering through the notice that peace talks had failed. Mutually assured destruction: no-one was walking away from this.
Some ran. Some rioted. Some gave up. Many cried.
It didn't matter now - no matter what they spent their brief hour of time doing, all were consumed in the blast.
*****
Meanwhile, in the next nearest clustering of alternate universes, audiences felt a chill of excitement as the midnight showing of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" began.
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Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Henry Kissinger once said that power was the ultimate aphrodisiac. It doesn't get me *that* excited, but then again, I *did* run for the House, and the night I was elected was probably the most passionate night of my marriage(and, of course, of my secretary's employment).
I long for that pleasure now, of being *chosen.* The people's choice, I was. Long as I might, all the gracious constituents in the world couldn't help me now. One of the two most effective organizations that work to take the voting public's agency away from them, the Democratic National Committee, was now breathing down my neck to vote in favor of a bill. It doesn't matter *what* bill it is, if I don't want to vote for something, I don't need Sabrina Leaonne, Majority Whip, thinking that it's cute to drop by my office and nonchalantly ask me how I intend to finance my reelection campaign.
Rotten bitch.
Times like these call for another kind of power.
Officially, I'm so anti-gun I'd make Jim Brady uncomfortable, but I always keep a loaded .22 in my desk(yes, just a .22, *bite me*). Taking it out now, I remember I should probably double check to make sure my office is empty. It's 1:07 AM, of course nobody's here.
Safety off, right up to the temple, against the soft spot of the skull, but angled so that the bullet would hit my brain and not just go through both my eyes. Can you believe there are people so inept they can't even kill themselves?
String theory is a proposed Unified Field Theory for all of our laws of Physics, but the fun part of it involves infinite universes with infinite possibilities. I put my finger on the trigger. Special, discreet assurance has informed me that part of String Theory is true, namely, the fun part I just described, along with a delightful side-effect that follows immediately after I die in another one of these universes.
"Bang."
I vocalize it, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Grinning, I nearly shout again, "Bang. Boom. Kapow! Game over."
Each incantation of onomatopoeia is followed by a convulsion of my body, with the knowledge that my brain, entangled with brains 100% identical to it in separate universes, is one of the few ones surviving this moment. In other worlds, I *do* pull the trigger, each *bang* or sputtering I evoke with my lips being a genuine gunshot for some other "me", in another universe.
I turn to the window, briefly considering shooting through it and jumping out, waiting for the 14 seconds in between my decision not to go through with it and the drop to the ground, ending the life of another "me."
Coward.
I put the gun back into my desk, reaffirmed of my inherent power. I then exit my office to go home to my faithful wife, contemplating the DNC's oversight of a vital truth I've proved to myself for the umpteenth time.
**Nobody fucks with me except me.**
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Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
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"Dude, I just got the shivers." I said to Kyle.
"What if it's because you died in a parallel universe?" He replied.
"Shut the fuck up Kyle, that's stupid." I whipped back.
"Whatever." He muttered.
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Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
|
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
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At first it just seemed like I was crazy, like my memory just didn't work right. Being a kid, I'd talk about how my friend John walked down to the duck pond and got kicked by a mule, and my friend Amy would say, "no, no, John went to the fair and got kicked by a mule." I'd know what I was saying was right, because I was there, but then I'd be corrected by six or seven people. "Johnny was at the fair." There were even times when I forgot I had a sibling, or that I didn't have a sibling. Sometimes their face would stay the same but their name would change. And sometimes, a name I'd called them yesterday wasn't their name -- instead, their name was what I knew them by a month or a year ago. My parents took me to the doctor and tried to explain it. Soon they just gave me medicine in the hopes that it was treatable. It wasn't.
It started affecting my school life when I got older. Mrs. Lafferty would say that Richard Nixon was at the Watergate Hotel, and I'd say that she'd taught us he'd been at the Folsom last semester. The gym teacher, Mr. Holland, would change the rules in baseball where we'd run around a hexagon of bases instead of a diamond. And then, there were the days when things went back to "normal", or at least the most common way of things. Mrs. Lafferty would agree that George Washington crossed the Delaware. Mr. Holland wouldn't use the third hoop in basketball.
It took me a while to realize what was going on, why it always seemed like stories changed, histories changed, the entire world changed without me knowing. When I finally caught on, after looking in the mirror and seeing the odd little changes in my face, in that freckle or this scar, I'd realize what was happening. Eventually, I'd have to try and keep track of what reality I'm in. And eventually I kept it to myself. Even if it was a slightly different set of parents every couple of weeks or months or years, they were still my parents, and I didn't want them to worry.
I could somehow walk through universes, and I never knew which one I'd end up in.
When I got older and out into the world, it started to get worse. There's just so much more to remember out in the real world. Computers, technology, phones, doctors, lawyers, news -- I had to relearn and relearn and relearn. That was okay, though, because I could always eventually catch up somehow. No, the worst part of the real world is that it is dangerous, and with the real world came the jitters.
It always hits me out of nowhere. Sometimes, I'll be at the corner of the street with my foot off the edge of the curb. I'd find myself getting chilly jitters across my skin, and in that second, I'd feel myself walk across the curb, see a car, and get hit. I'd feel it in that minute -- bones crunch, unimaginable pain, road rash down my left side, suffocating blackness -- and then, in that same minute, it would be gone. I would still be standing at the street, and a red Miata with a texting driver would whiz by.
And I'd never go back to that universe. I'd figured out a system of keeping track of which universe I was in, and that one -- that particular one, in fact, my Elbow Scar universe where I never went to ballet practice and Mom didn't die of heart disease and the US invaded Kuwait and stayed-- just vanished. I never woke up in that world ever again.
I try to stay indoors a lot now. I don't get the jitters when I'm inside. It's a little safer, a little bit less dangerous. I can't walk by streets anymore. I don't go near construction sites. I almost never eat anything at a restaurant. My computer is my best friend, on the days and in the worlds where I know how to use it. But even inside my apartment, I'll get the jitters. I might plug in a laptop, and suddenly I'm electrocuted, only to find myself sitting against a wall bawling with the cord plugged in. Or I'll take a bath and fall asleep, the jitters making my heart tap-dance three milliseconds before I wake up and drown in the tub. There are so many, many little ways to die, and I experience them all.
Sometimes I wonder if there are infinite universes, and if this will keep going. I keep aging, after all, and maybe I'll just die when I finally reach old age. But, if there *aren't* infinite universes -- if there *aren't* an unlimited number of me's out there to die -- I'll never know when my jitters are running out. Each one could be the last before I finally draw the unlucky straw and die. Every act is a flip of the coin. Heads I win, tails I lose.
At this rate, I want to lose that coin toss.
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Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
20 doctors. 15 specialists. Several religious interventions and witch doctors, in Brazil, Peru and Zimbabwe. I've started to lose track of it all.
Nobody can tell my why I won't stop shivering, all throughout the day. There's no pattern- I've counted every day and tried to track one. There's no specific time, and it's not from temperature because it'll happen all year round, rain or shine, snow or sleet. It's not an allergy or a tick...nobody can tell me what it is.
The worst day, I counted 978 shivers. The best was 743. Nothing stops it, not sleep, alcohol, drugs or medicine. I've tried moving around to different places, but nothing works.
I can't have a personal life when I'm shivering all day. I try to see a movie, or go out on a date, or maybe eat at a nice restaurant and no matter what, without fail, I'm interrupted. The joy is tarnished and I'm reminded of my misery.
*God, I'm so tired of the shivers. They won't stop, and it's driving me insane. I hate the feeling, that chill crawling down my spine like a spider. I hate the fact that nobody can tell me why the fuck it won't stop happening.*
*Please, I just want an escape. A way out of this looping hell, where I can't even enjoy a sandwich most days.*
*There is an escape. How could I have missed it? It's so obvious, and it's foolproof. Yes, I'll be free from it. Free at last.*
I put a gun to my head, looking out into a sunset caressing the ocean's horizon with strokes of magenta and pink. The rippling reflection of it on the water was so close I could almost touch it. A most beautiful last sight was before me, so magnificent that it made me doubt my decision.
I shivered again, my spine screaming madly; could I not even have but one moment of peace to admire beauty? My finger hugged the trigger and I fell into the sea, a splash of red and blue dancing around me in the sunset's hue.
Another shiver ran through my body. *God, why can't I stop shivering?*
*I should see a doctor.*
|
Nine thousand six hundred and forty-two. That is the number of times I have died. Oh, not here in my universe of course. It's other Arnolds that have died. My name is Arnold by the way. It's crazy to think of how many parallel universes there are and how many times "I" have died, but it all makes sense if you really think about it for just a second.
I haven't per say witnessed any of these deaths of my other selves, but I have experienced them. You may be wondering, how do I experience these deaths? Well, it's no big secret because you experience them too!
Before I go into too much detail, you should know that it will sound a little crazy, at first. It's when you get the chills. You know that feeling that runs up your spine and makes you spasm a little? That's it, that is you number... 1 or 1,000,00 dying.
I always recorded down the chills I've gotten since I can remember and then one night some odd years ago I had a dream; in the dream the I saw me, a thousand mes dying in so many odd ways, and the days I had experienced too (without the dying bit). I knew then that my records were for a reason, to remember all my deaths.
How is this relevant to you in any way? Well, I've developed a rather innovative and fun little gadget. The chill counter? It's like one of those bracelets that keep track of your heart beat and number of steps you've taken, but this one instead counts and tracks your multiverse deaths. It also gives you a small alert after each chill so you can have a moment of silence for yourself or celebrate the fact that you've outlived another one of yourselfs.
So, how about it? For only 19.99 USD this marvelous bracelet can let you know of the impending doom you yourself aren't facing just quite yet?
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
*132:06:39:42*
It was the time of the Great Countdown. As I walk down the streets I could see the universal projection in the sky, the numbers getting smaller and smaller, from the remaining days down to the last second. The digits seizes me in a crushing hold and instantly, my steps become fueled with panic. I recite a prayer in my head, stuffing my shaking hands into my pockets.
Please please, just- No-!
There it was. A running sensation from the back of my neck down to the base of my spine. It was like a trickle of water, or a tiny electrical spark spreading throughout my body. I even felt it at the tips of my fingers and when I did, a strangled cry erupted from my lips.
This was why I hated going outside. But I did not have a choice, a man has got to feed himself. I pulled the hoodie over my head, biting hard on my molars as I pushed through the glass door, keeping a low gaze on the near-empty shelves of groceries.
It was hard times and the memories of the last ten years remained fuzzy in my mind. But I remembered the first time they announced it, that the Earth was going to die. And as though that dire piece of news was not enough, they bombed us with another fact that pandemic case of experiencing the chills was in reality not a symptom of a 'harmless' bacterial infection; it was a sickening signal, a heart-wrenching call, that one has died in an alternate universe.
The scrambling of scientists and researchers happened. With their brains bulging with desperation, daily functions strained with exhaustion, they worked relentlessly on a new theory - our last hope. If it worked, humanity could escape this dying planet and restart on a blank slate.
We could go to another Earth in an alternate universe.
I could restart in an alternate universe.
But my chance were limited - I can only go to an alternate universe where 'I' was still alive.
|
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[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm climbing Mt. Everest.
At the same time I'm ruining millions of other alternate universes.
I feel like crap.
|
*132:06:39:42*
It was the time of the Great Countdown. As I walk down the streets I could see the universal projection in the sky, the numbers getting smaller and smaller, from the remaining days down to the last second. The digits seizes me in a crushing hold and instantly, my steps become fueled with panic. I recite a prayer in my head, stuffing my shaking hands into my pockets.
Please please, just- No-!
There it was. A running sensation from the back of my neck down to the base of my spine. It was like a trickle of water, or a tiny electrical spark spreading throughout my body. I even felt it at the tips of my fingers and when I did, a strangled cry erupted from my lips.
This was why I hated going outside. But I did not have a choice, a man has got to feed himself. I pulled the hoodie over my head, biting hard on my molars as I pushed through the glass door, keeping a low gaze on the near-empty shelves of groceries.
It was hard times and the memories of the last ten years remained fuzzy in my mind. But I remembered the first time they announced it, that the Earth was going to die. And as though that dire piece of news was not enough, they bombed us with another fact that pandemic case of experiencing the chills was in reality not a symptom of a 'harmless' bacterial infection; it was a sickening signal, a heart-wrenching call, that one has died in an alternate universe.
The scrambling of scientists and researchers happened. With their brains bulging with desperation, daily functions strained with exhaustion, they worked relentlessly on a new theory - our last hope. If it worked, humanity could escape this dying planet and restart on a blank slate.
We could go to another Earth in an alternate universe.
I could restart in an alternate universe.
But my chance were limited - I can only go to an alternate universe where 'I' was still alive.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Funny how killing yourself gives you the chills.
I thought it was just cause I wasn't used to it yet. Killing yourself is very different from demapping some dude off the street or finishing a square fight, but even it becomes a chore once you've done it once, twice, I can't count anymore times.
But no. Every time. I've steeled myself, I've tried a thousand different weapons and surrogates and therapies. Every time I die, I know it. And who did it.
Out of the thousands of millions of me, one died in the womb, tangled in the umbilical cord. That world was lucky. Fourteen died to accidents before the age of 12. The rest have died in battle. About one fourth died in fights in their own worlds. One third made it over at least one universe to fight themselves. The remainders now jump world to world, fighting mercilessly. But only one can win.
|
*132:06:39:42*
It was the time of the Great Countdown. As I walk down the streets I could see the universal projection in the sky, the numbers getting smaller and smaller, from the remaining days down to the last second. The digits seizes me in a crushing hold and instantly, my steps become fueled with panic. I recite a prayer in my head, stuffing my shaking hands into my pockets.
Please please, just- No-!
There it was. A running sensation from the back of my neck down to the base of my spine. It was like a trickle of water, or a tiny electrical spark spreading throughout my body. I even felt it at the tips of my fingers and when I did, a strangled cry erupted from my lips.
This was why I hated going outside. But I did not have a choice, a man has got to feed himself. I pulled the hoodie over my head, biting hard on my molars as I pushed through the glass door, keeping a low gaze on the near-empty shelves of groceries.
It was hard times and the memories of the last ten years remained fuzzy in my mind. But I remembered the first time they announced it, that the Earth was going to die. And as though that dire piece of news was not enough, they bombed us with another fact that pandemic case of experiencing the chills was in reality not a symptom of a 'harmless' bacterial infection; it was a sickening signal, a heart-wrenching call, that one has died in an alternate universe.
The scrambling of scientists and researchers happened. With their brains bulging with desperation, daily functions strained with exhaustion, they worked relentlessly on a new theory - our last hope. If it worked, humanity could escape this dying planet and restart on a blank slate.
We could go to another Earth in an alternate universe.
I could restart in an alternate universe.
But my chance were limited - I can only go to an alternate universe where 'I' was still alive.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
*Nuclear bombs are very bright.*
This simple fact was burned into everyone's mind as the bombs fell, much like the mushroom cloud was burned into their retinas for one brief moment before a near-instantaneous obliteration.
The emergency broadcast an hour ago had given people a chance to try and come to terms with the ruination of the human race. The announcer had a breakdown while stuttering through the notice that peace talks had failed. Mutually assured destruction: no-one was walking away from this.
Some ran. Some rioted. Some gave up. Many cried.
It didn't matter now - no matter what they spent their brief hour of time doing, all were consumed in the blast.
*****
Meanwhile, in the next nearest clustering of alternate universes, audiences felt a chill of excitement as the midnight showing of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" began.
|
*132:06:39:42*
It was the time of the Great Countdown. As I walk down the streets I could see the universal projection in the sky, the numbers getting smaller and smaller, from the remaining days down to the last second. The digits seizes me in a crushing hold and instantly, my steps become fueled with panic. I recite a prayer in my head, stuffing my shaking hands into my pockets.
Please please, just- No-!
There it was. A running sensation from the back of my neck down to the base of my spine. It was like a trickle of water, or a tiny electrical spark spreading throughout my body. I even felt it at the tips of my fingers and when I did, a strangled cry erupted from my lips.
This was why I hated going outside. But I did not have a choice, a man has got to feed himself. I pulled the hoodie over my head, biting hard on my molars as I pushed through the glass door, keeping a low gaze on the near-empty shelves of groceries.
It was hard times and the memories of the last ten years remained fuzzy in my mind. But I remembered the first time they announced it, that the Earth was going to die. And as though that dire piece of news was not enough, they bombed us with another fact that pandemic case of experiencing the chills was in reality not a symptom of a 'harmless' bacterial infection; it was a sickening signal, a heart-wrenching call, that one has died in an alternate universe.
The scrambling of scientists and researchers happened. With their brains bulging with desperation, daily functions strained with exhaustion, they worked relentlessly on a new theory - our last hope. If it worked, humanity could escape this dying planet and restart on a blank slate.
We could go to another Earth in an alternate universe.
I could restart in an alternate universe.
But my chance were limited - I can only go to an alternate universe where 'I' was still alive.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
"I should probably stop going outside until winter is over," I thought to myself.
But that's when it struck me. If I get the chills and an alternate universe-me dies, that probably means that one of the alternate universe-me's will get the chills whenever I die. In order to stay alive, I must get the chills as often as possible to kill off as many of my alternates as I can before one of them gets my "chill."
It's winter. Perfect. Shorts and a t-shirt it is. I will walk around town, stopping in stores to warm up so that I get more chills whenever I come back outside. You know what else winter means? Flu season and various other illnesses. I will as I'm walking around town and in and out of stores, I will look for people coughing and sneezing and immediately go up to them and shake their hand and introduce myself. Boom. Sickness chills.
I guess I should snag some scary movies while I'm out. That will kill a few more of those motherfuckers before I go to bed.
Yesterday went well. I probably killed at least 200 alternates. Time to go back out today. Oh, I should mention that I had a nightmare last night and woke up with the chills. Must have been all of the horror flicks last night. A good way to start the day none the less. Also, I have a bit of a scratchy throat and runny nose. Fuck yeah - give me the flu. Time to grab a nice pair of shorts and clean shirt and time to hit the town again.
It snowed last night. That's sweet. I started to get kinda used to the cold yesterday, so once that happens, I'll just relax in the nice fluffy snow. There's no way I'll get used to that.
The flu symptoms are really kicking in. My nose won't stop running but the cough... The cough is bad. Oh well, the chills are worth it. The chills are keeping me alive.
I'm getting used to the cold. Snow angels anyone? (oh, the irony)
It's getting late and I'm feeling weak. I guess it's time to get home and let the flu chills pick off my alternates one by one. Maybe I'll have another nightmare and work double duty while sleeping.
I woke up this morning and can barely move. The cough... I can barely catch my breath it's so bad. I need to get out in the cold, but I can hardly move. Maybe I'll just watch some more scary movies and let the flu chills do the dirty work.
Seriously, this cough. I've been coughing up blood and mucus for the past 3 hours. This isn't good, but I'll be alright. As long as I have the chills, I'll be alright.
More blood. More mucus. Can't breathe. This is bad. Wait, why have the chills stopped? I'm sick as a dog. Man, I'm warm. I'm really, really warm...
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Funny how killing yourself gives you the chills.
I thought it was just cause I wasn't used to it yet. Killing yourself is very different from demapping some dude off the street or finishing a square fight, but even it becomes a chore once you've done it once, twice, I can't count anymore times.
But no. Every time. I've steeled myself, I've tried a thousand different weapons and surrogates and therapies. Every time I die, I know it. And who did it.
Out of the thousands of millions of me, one died in the womb, tangled in the umbilical cord. That world was lucky. Fourteen died to accidents before the age of 12. The rest have died in battle. About one fourth died in fights in their own worlds. One third made it over at least one universe to fight themselves. The remainders now jump world to world, fighting mercilessly. But only one can win.
|
"I should probably stop going outside until winter is over," I thought to myself.
But that's when it struck me. If I get the chills and an alternate universe-me dies, that probably means that one of the alternate universe-me's will get the chills whenever I die. In order to stay alive, I must get the chills as often as possible to kill off as many of my alternates as I can before one of them gets my "chill."
It's winter. Perfect. Shorts and a t-shirt it is. I will walk around town, stopping in stores to warm up so that I get more chills whenever I come back outside. You know what else winter means? Flu season and various other illnesses. I will as I'm walking around town and in and out of stores, I will look for people coughing and sneezing and immediately go up to them and shake their hand and introduce myself. Boom. Sickness chills.
I guess I should snag some scary movies while I'm out. That will kill a few more of those motherfuckers before I go to bed.
Yesterday went well. I probably killed at least 200 alternates. Time to go back out today. Oh, I should mention that I had a nightmare last night and woke up with the chills. Must have been all of the horror flicks last night. A good way to start the day none the less. Also, I have a bit of a scratchy throat and runny nose. Fuck yeah - give me the flu. Time to grab a nice pair of shorts and clean shirt and time to hit the town again.
It snowed last night. That's sweet. I started to get kinda used to the cold yesterday, so once that happens, I'll just relax in the nice fluffy snow. There's no way I'll get used to that.
The flu symptoms are really kicking in. My nose won't stop running but the cough... The cough is bad. Oh well, the chills are worth it. The chills are keeping me alive.
I'm getting used to the cold. Snow angels anyone? (oh, the irony)
It's getting late and I'm feeling weak. I guess it's time to get home and let the flu chills pick off my alternates one by one. Maybe I'll have another nightmare and work double duty while sleeping.
I woke up this morning and can barely move. The cough... I can barely catch my breath it's so bad. I need to get out in the cold, but I can hardly move. Maybe I'll just watch some more scary movies and let the flu chills do the dirty work.
Seriously, this cough. I've been coughing up blood and mucus for the past 3 hours. This isn't good, but I'll be alright. As long as I have the chills, I'll be alright.
More blood. More mucus. Can't breathe. This is bad. Wait, why have the chills stopped? I'm sick as a dog. Man, I'm warm. I'm really, really warm...
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|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
*Nuclear bombs are very bright.*
This simple fact was burned into everyone's mind as the bombs fell, much like the mushroom cloud was burned into their retinas for one brief moment before a near-instantaneous obliteration.
The emergency broadcast an hour ago had given people a chance to try and come to terms with the ruination of the human race. The announcer had a breakdown while stuttering through the notice that peace talks had failed. Mutually assured destruction: no-one was walking away from this.
Some ran. Some rioted. Some gave up. Many cried.
It didn't matter now - no matter what they spent their brief hour of time doing, all were consumed in the blast.
*****
Meanwhile, in the next nearest clustering of alternate universes, audiences felt a chill of excitement as the midnight showing of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" began.
|
"I should probably stop going outside until winter is over," I thought to myself.
But that's when it struck me. If I get the chills and an alternate universe-me dies, that probably means that one of the alternate universe-me's will get the chills whenever I die. In order to stay alive, I must get the chills as often as possible to kill off as many of my alternates as I can before one of them gets my "chill."
It's winter. Perfect. Shorts and a t-shirt it is. I will walk around town, stopping in stores to warm up so that I get more chills whenever I come back outside. You know what else winter means? Flu season and various other illnesses. I will as I'm walking around town and in and out of stores, I will look for people coughing and sneezing and immediately go up to them and shake their hand and introduce myself. Boom. Sickness chills.
I guess I should snag some scary movies while I'm out. That will kill a few more of those motherfuckers before I go to bed.
Yesterday went well. I probably killed at least 200 alternates. Time to go back out today. Oh, I should mention that I had a nightmare last night and woke up with the chills. Must have been all of the horror flicks last night. A good way to start the day none the less. Also, I have a bit of a scratchy throat and runny nose. Fuck yeah - give me the flu. Time to grab a nice pair of shorts and clean shirt and time to hit the town again.
It snowed last night. That's sweet. I started to get kinda used to the cold yesterday, so once that happens, I'll just relax in the nice fluffy snow. There's no way I'll get used to that.
The flu symptoms are really kicking in. My nose won't stop running but the cough... The cough is bad. Oh well, the chills are worth it. The chills are keeping me alive.
I'm getting used to the cold. Snow angels anyone? (oh, the irony)
It's getting late and I'm feeling weak. I guess it's time to get home and let the flu chills pick off my alternates one by one. Maybe I'll have another nightmare and work double duty while sleeping.
I woke up this morning and can barely move. The cough... I can barely catch my breath it's so bad. I need to get out in the cold, but I can hardly move. Maybe I'll just watch some more scary movies and let the flu chills do the dirty work.
Seriously, this cough. I've been coughing up blood and mucus for the past 3 hours. This isn't good, but I'll be alright. As long as I have the chills, I'll be alright.
More blood. More mucus. Can't breathe. This is bad. Wait, why have the chills stopped? I'm sick as a dog. Man, I'm warm. I'm really, really warm...
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
I always felt that choking to death on your dinner would be the most pathetic way to go.
I never thought it would be me.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Funny how killing yourself gives you the chills.
I thought it was just cause I wasn't used to it yet. Killing yourself is very different from demapping some dude off the street or finishing a square fight, but even it becomes a chore once you've done it once, twice, I can't count anymore times.
But no. Every time. I've steeled myself, I've tried a thousand different weapons and surrogates and therapies. Every time I die, I know it. And who did it.
Out of the thousands of millions of me, one died in the womb, tangled in the umbilical cord. That world was lucky. Fourteen died to accidents before the age of 12. The rest have died in battle. About one fourth died in fights in their own worlds. One third made it over at least one universe to fight themselves. The remainders now jump world to world, fighting mercilessly. But only one can win.
|
I always felt that choking to death on your dinner would be the most pathetic way to go.
I never thought it would be me.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
*Nuclear bombs are very bright.*
This simple fact was burned into everyone's mind as the bombs fell, much like the mushroom cloud was burned into their retinas for one brief moment before a near-instantaneous obliteration.
The emergency broadcast an hour ago had given people a chance to try and come to terms with the ruination of the human race. The announcer had a breakdown while stuttering through the notice that peace talks had failed. Mutually assured destruction: no-one was walking away from this.
Some ran. Some rioted. Some gave up. Many cried.
It didn't matter now - no matter what they spent their brief hour of time doing, all were consumed in the blast.
*****
Meanwhile, in the next nearest clustering of alternate universes, audiences felt a chill of excitement as the midnight showing of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" began.
|
I always felt that choking to death on your dinner would be the most pathetic way to go.
I never thought it would be me.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
Embrace the soil to flake away in the billowing air;
flakes tickle against this reddened skin.
Countless hills with a stalk on each spread out among this flesh.
Now to become upper from gruesome sight.
A swing halted, such strength to bring dazzling sparks spitting about.
Swing of one's own, driven deep to bring thick red spitting out.
The brute slams down to embrace the soil.
My flakes left bundled, to billow another time.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
It's tough work, being a Death Corrections Officer. You see some really messed up shit down there, but the worst thing is, there's not a single person in the DCO who will give you an ounce of sympathy. They've all seen things just as bad as you have, and they're struggling through just fine, so why should you need any help?
I suppose I should explain just what the DCO is. There's a plan to the world; a rhyme and a reason to the way things are *supposed* to go. Except, every so often, things...don't go according to plan. That's when we step in. Find the event in question, shift in an alternate universe to patch the prime one, and boom, the world continues on its merry way. Easy.
But not fun. See, you've gotta look at what happened to see how to stop it. That means looking at death, five or ten times a day, every day. Something like that changes a man. You normals get away with just a little shiver up your spine, a faint memory of the former universe, but we have to watch you die, sometimes over and over again, five, six times.
And then there's *you* assholes. Of all the fuckin' hobbies you had to take up...do you know how much it *sucks* to have to rescue the same dude a couple thousand times in the same fuckin' day? Don't even ask me how the hell youtube videos can cause all the accidents they do, I've got no fuckin' idea. Just know that I hate you, I hate everything about you, and I hope you die.
Oh wait. You already did. Again, and again, and again, and again, and...
Shit, I need a drink.
God this job sucks.
--------------
In the real world, John Jones moaned in pleasure as the girl on the screen whispered into the microphone. ASMR videos really were the best.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
I was tapping away, excited. *Finally* I'd cracked this algorithm, and now my code was flowing freely from my fingers into the editor. The moments of breakthrough really made being a programmer a joy.
*Save. Commit.* Now I just wait for the compiler, and...
That's when it happened. A shudder ran through my body, starting in my chest and shaking my whole being.
I looked to my left. My cubicle-mate was just looking at me. "Woo," he said.
"What?"
"Just got the chills."
I narrowed my eyes at him. Then the guy on the other side of the cloth half-wall of the cubicle stood up, with a pretty similar expression on his face. "Me, too."
"I felt it, too," I admitted. And one by one, like prairie dogs, my coworkers began poking their heads up, pulling out earbuds, agreeing that they had felt the same thing. It had started with me at 1:24 PM, and by 1:35 everybody in my building had felt it. Some had just thought the heat had been turned off, but we all soon realized that this was something different.
We evacuated the building, assuming that something was in the ventilation system or something. But as we started talking to people in neighboring buildings, we realized that this had happened to everyone. Every single person in the city. Bus passengers, line cooks, taxi drivers, investment bankers, tourists, professional athletes.
Someone near me showed me their Facebook feed on their phone. People were freaking out on the social network, as they realized that everyone they knew had experienced the same thing at the same time. It wasn't just in our city, either; people on the other side of the planet were posting about the phenomenon. Everybody had gotten the chills around 1:30 PM EST. The earliest time reported was like me, at 1:24. The latest, 1:37.
By 3:00 it was a worldwide trending topic on Twitter. All of our local news stations had posted something about it. I caught a bus home, because there was no way in any universe that I was going to get anything else done today. The bus was packed, unusual for being so early. Everybody wanted to get home to their families. Everybody had felt the same chills at the same time.
A post in /r/science by a doctor talking about the phenomenon hit the front page, but he didn't have much to say that really answered the problem. I tried to text my wife, but she didn't answer. Not unusual. Probably left her phone upstairs again.
When I finally got home, I saw her happily playing with our toddler in the living room. She looked at me, confused. "You're home early."
"Yeah, well, when that thing happened this afternoon, I just wanted to be here with you."
Her eyes searched mine. "What thing?"
"Didn't you see? Everybody got the chills at once."
She looked even more confused.
"Not me."
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I was the first case they encountered. They said it was some sort of "trans-dimensional quantum entanglement". I don't really know or care what the fuck that means. I probably should, it's unwilling incarceration, and ethical horrors I can't even begin to describe.
Dr. Krosky explained it, in the beginning. He said that that "shiver" I felt was some sort of bond breaking, across all the possibilities. He said that there were an infinite number of "me" somewhere, and we were all mirrors of each other, paths not taken. Different choices made. Different rolls of the dice. Back in 8th grade, I wasn't late for that midterm and passed US History the first time, instead of re-taking it; I was late but sweet-talked Mrs. Jones; I wasn't late, but I just failed; I was 20 minutes early and Mrs. Jones and I fucked on her desk. A thousand million different possibilities for every moment of every life.
Dr. Krosky said it happened to everyone but that _I was special_. I had some sort of link to all of me.
He was right. I could _feel_ it. Dr. Krosky said, in the beginning, that the shivers were only for versions of me that were similar. Ones that split off recently, like this morning, or a couple days ago. Versions of me that put butter on their toast, versions of me that left the house a few seconds later than me and ended up slamming into an oncoming motorcycle. Those versions of me, when they died, they "resolved the quantum uncertainty". And then I'd shiver.
Krosky got a team. He said he said I was the proof of his life's work, and he paid me well. He had proven that there were infinite worlds, and every world was a branch off this one. Our reality, our universe was the _real_ one. Or at least, the first one. He said that I was the conduit.
Looking back, I should've run then. I shivered when he told me, and he arched an eyebrow asking me, "Did it happen again?" I nodded, and he glanced at some readout and exclaimed, "It did! Look, there's the spike!" He said he'd make the link stronger. "Imagine what we could do..." he'd mutter to himself, when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Krosky figured me out. He used me as a template, something about me was built right. He found others that were linked. Turns out there were millions of us. More than enough, he said, for his project. We really should've refused, but how could we?
Krosky had a team. He had hundreds of people -- scientists, engineers, astrophysicists -- the Krosky Project was what people went to school and graduated to join. He was building The Resonator. It was in the desert, the only place with enough open land, he'd explained to me. By now, the Link, as he'd called it, was the strongest it'd been. I'd gotten used to the shivering. It was happening all the time. I found if I lived my life in the safest way possible, I'd shiver less.
As part of his project, the transmitters he'd designed were scattered throughout society. They had to be near you to work, but that's easy -- they were incredibly small. They went into phones and watches and eyeglasses and footwear and wallets and purses and chairs and keyboards and any other place or thing that a human interact with. You couldn't go through your day without rubbing up against fifty of them.
The transmitters helped. They reduced the shivering. Krosky apologized to me one day. He said, "I'm sorry,". I asked him for what, and he just motioned to me, encompassing my whole, shivering body. "For this," he'd said. And then he turned away, back to his work. I do recall that was the day that the shivering stopped. I asked him why the next time I saw him. He looked sad, but said that he'd resolved the issue, but refused to talk more. I knew my friend well enough by then to not press the issue.
The end result was amazing. The Resonator generated _power_. Vast amounts of it. We had more than we knew what to do with. In a few short decades after Krosky's death, we'd built skyscrapers that left the atmosphere. We'd sent machine and man to every corner of the solar system. We tossed out concepts like efficiency. Who needed it? We just turned the Resonator up another notch when it started to wane.
So few people really understood what it was doing though. Do you remember before the Resonator? Your grandmother might. I do. We had _electricity_. So few knew how it worked, but it was everywhere. We shipped it off across the continent along wires. You've seen the old towers, right? There's some examples in the Smithsonian. There's even a little generator with a hand-crank! You should go, it's a fascinating technology. I wonder if you'll ever have the chance, again.
But you know how the Resonator works, right? You've learned in school, it's simply resolves those quantum states into something favorable for us. It generates a small bit of power every time, and the transmitters, they store one side, the Resonator the other, and that small little difference, it adds up, and bounces around inside the giant sphere in the Nevada desert. That's what you were taught, right?
Haven't you wondered, all this time, why _I'm_ still here? Have you ever stopped to count? How many days Krosky died? How many days since you last took a shit? Who was the last person you knew that didn't have the Link? When was the last time you Shivered?
You're catching on now. You're here now. You're inside the Resonator, with the rest of us. We are what's left of the link. We are those fragments, those tiny bits of all the dead versions of ourselves reassembled into ... whatever we are, captured and imprisoned here. Our screams power the world.
|
"Ahhhhhh" I exhaled as I felt the last of my long awaited piss trickle out of me. Just as I started to shake, I felt an all to familiar feeling; a cold chill running up the back of my spine and I knew I had lost more than just my urine.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
I'm climbing Mt. Everest.
At the same time I'm ruining millions of other alternate universes.
I feel like crap.
|
There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Funny how killing yourself gives you the chills.
I thought it was just cause I wasn't used to it yet. Killing yourself is very different from demapping some dude off the street or finishing a square fight, but even it becomes a chore once you've done it once, twice, I can't count anymore times.
But no. Every time. I've steeled myself, I've tried a thousand different weapons and surrogates and therapies. Every time I die, I know it. And who did it.
Out of the thousands of millions of me, one died in the womb, tangled in the umbilical cord. That world was lucky. Fourteen died to accidents before the age of 12. The rest have died in battle. About one fourth died in fights in their own worlds. One third made it over at least one universe to fight themselves. The remainders now jump world to world, fighting mercilessly. But only one can win.
|
There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
*Nuclear bombs are very bright.*
This simple fact was burned into everyone's mind as the bombs fell, much like the mushroom cloud was burned into their retinas for one brief moment before a near-instantaneous obliteration.
The emergency broadcast an hour ago had given people a chance to try and come to terms with the ruination of the human race. The announcer had a breakdown while stuttering through the notice that peace talks had failed. Mutually assured destruction: no-one was walking away from this.
Some ran. Some rioted. Some gave up. Many cried.
It didn't matter now - no matter what they spent their brief hour of time doing, all were consumed in the blast.
*****
Meanwhile, in the next nearest clustering of alternate universes, audiences felt a chill of excitement as the midnight showing of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" began.
|
There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
Henry Kissinger once said that power was the ultimate aphrodisiac. It doesn't get me *that* excited, but then again, I *did* run for the House, and the night I was elected was probably the most passionate night of my marriage(and, of course, of my secretary's employment).
I long for that pleasure now, of being *chosen.* The people's choice, I was. Long as I might, all the gracious constituents in the world couldn't help me now. One of the two most effective organizations that work to take the voting public's agency away from them, the Democratic National Committee, was now breathing down my neck to vote in favor of a bill. It doesn't matter *what* bill it is, if I don't want to vote for something, I don't need Sabrina Leaonne, Majority Whip, thinking that it's cute to drop by my office and nonchalantly ask me how I intend to finance my reelection campaign.
Rotten bitch.
Times like these call for another kind of power.
Officially, I'm so anti-gun I'd make Jim Brady uncomfortable, but I always keep a loaded .22 in my desk(yes, just a .22, *bite me*). Taking it out now, I remember I should probably double check to make sure my office is empty. It's 1:07 AM, of course nobody's here.
Safety off, right up to the temple, against the soft spot of the skull, but angled so that the bullet would hit my brain and not just go through both my eyes. Can you believe there are people so inept they can't even kill themselves?
String theory is a proposed Unified Field Theory for all of our laws of Physics, but the fun part of it involves infinite universes with infinite possibilities. I put my finger on the trigger. Special, discreet assurance has informed me that part of String Theory is true, namely, the fun part I just described, along with a delightful side-effect that follows immediately after I die in another one of these universes.
"Bang."
I vocalize it, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Grinning, I nearly shout again, "Bang. Boom. Kapow! Game over."
Each incantation of onomatopoeia is followed by a convulsion of my body, with the knowledge that my brain, entangled with brains 100% identical to it in separate universes, is one of the few ones surviving this moment. In other worlds, I *do* pull the trigger, each *bang* or sputtering I evoke with my lips being a genuine gunshot for some other "me", in another universe.
I turn to the window, briefly considering shooting through it and jumping out, waiting for the 14 seconds in between my decision not to go through with it and the drop to the ground, ending the life of another "me."
Coward.
I put the gun back into my desk, reaffirmed of my inherent power. I then exit my office to go home to my faithful wife, contemplating the DNC's oversight of a vital truth I've proved to myself for the umpteenth time.
**Nobody fucks with me except me.**
|
There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
"Dude, I just got the shivers." I said to Kyle.
"What if it's because you died in a parallel universe?" He replied.
"Shut the fuck up Kyle, that's stupid." I whipped back.
"Whatever." He muttered.
|
There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
At first it just seemed like I was crazy, like my memory just didn't work right. Being a kid, I'd talk about how my friend John walked down to the duck pond and got kicked by a mule, and my friend Amy would say, "no, no, John went to the fair and got kicked by a mule." I'd know what I was saying was right, because I was there, but then I'd be corrected by six or seven people. "Johnny was at the fair." There were even times when I forgot I had a sibling, or that I didn't have a sibling. Sometimes their face would stay the same but their name would change. And sometimes, a name I'd called them yesterday wasn't their name -- instead, their name was what I knew them by a month or a year ago. My parents took me to the doctor and tried to explain it. Soon they just gave me medicine in the hopes that it was treatable. It wasn't.
It started affecting my school life when I got older. Mrs. Lafferty would say that Richard Nixon was at the Watergate Hotel, and I'd say that she'd taught us he'd been at the Folsom last semester. The gym teacher, Mr. Holland, would change the rules in baseball where we'd run around a hexagon of bases instead of a diamond. And then, there were the days when things went back to "normal", or at least the most common way of things. Mrs. Lafferty would agree that George Washington crossed the Delaware. Mr. Holland wouldn't use the third hoop in basketball.
It took me a while to realize what was going on, why it always seemed like stories changed, histories changed, the entire world changed without me knowing. When I finally caught on, after looking in the mirror and seeing the odd little changes in my face, in that freckle or this scar, I'd realize what was happening. Eventually, I'd have to try and keep track of what reality I'm in. And eventually I kept it to myself. Even if it was a slightly different set of parents every couple of weeks or months or years, they were still my parents, and I didn't want them to worry.
I could somehow walk through universes, and I never knew which one I'd end up in.
When I got older and out into the world, it started to get worse. There's just so much more to remember out in the real world. Computers, technology, phones, doctors, lawyers, news -- I had to relearn and relearn and relearn. That was okay, though, because I could always eventually catch up somehow. No, the worst part of the real world is that it is dangerous, and with the real world came the jitters.
It always hits me out of nowhere. Sometimes, I'll be at the corner of the street with my foot off the edge of the curb. I'd find myself getting chilly jitters across my skin, and in that second, I'd feel myself walk across the curb, see a car, and get hit. I'd feel it in that minute -- bones crunch, unimaginable pain, road rash down my left side, suffocating blackness -- and then, in that same minute, it would be gone. I would still be standing at the street, and a red Miata with a texting driver would whiz by.
And I'd never go back to that universe. I'd figured out a system of keeping track of which universe I was in, and that one -- that particular one, in fact, my Elbow Scar universe where I never went to ballet practice and Mom didn't die of heart disease and the US invaded Kuwait and stayed-- just vanished. I never woke up in that world ever again.
I try to stay indoors a lot now. I don't get the jitters when I'm inside. It's a little safer, a little bit less dangerous. I can't walk by streets anymore. I don't go near construction sites. I almost never eat anything at a restaurant. My computer is my best friend, on the days and in the worlds where I know how to use it. But even inside my apartment, I'll get the jitters. I might plug in a laptop, and suddenly I'm electrocuted, only to find myself sitting against a wall bawling with the cord plugged in. Or I'll take a bath and fall asleep, the jitters making my heart tap-dance three milliseconds before I wake up and drown in the tub. There are so many, many little ways to die, and I experience them all.
Sometimes I wonder if there are infinite universes, and if this will keep going. I keep aging, after all, and maybe I'll just die when I finally reach old age. But, if there *aren't* infinite universes -- if there *aren't* an unlimited number of me's out there to die -- I'll never know when my jitters are running out. Each one could be the last before I finally draw the unlucky straw and die. Every act is a flip of the coin. Heads I win, tails I lose.
At this rate, I want to lose that coin toss.
|
There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
20 doctors. 15 specialists. Several religious interventions and witch doctors, in Brazil, Peru and Zimbabwe. I've started to lose track of it all.
Nobody can tell my why I won't stop shivering, all throughout the day. There's no pattern- I've counted every day and tried to track one. There's no specific time, and it's not from temperature because it'll happen all year round, rain or shine, snow or sleet. It's not an allergy or a tick...nobody can tell me what it is.
The worst day, I counted 978 shivers. The best was 743. Nothing stops it, not sleep, alcohol, drugs or medicine. I've tried moving around to different places, but nothing works.
I can't have a personal life when I'm shivering all day. I try to see a movie, or go out on a date, or maybe eat at a nice restaurant and no matter what, without fail, I'm interrupted. The joy is tarnished and I'm reminded of my misery.
*God, I'm so tired of the shivers. They won't stop, and it's driving me insane. I hate the feeling, that chill crawling down my spine like a spider. I hate the fact that nobody can tell me why the fuck it won't stop happening.*
*Please, I just want an escape. A way out of this looping hell, where I can't even enjoy a sandwich most days.*
*There is an escape. How could I have missed it? It's so obvious, and it's foolproof. Yes, I'll be free from it. Free at last.*
I put a gun to my head, looking out into a sunset caressing the ocean's horizon with strokes of magenta and pink. The rippling reflection of it on the water was so close I could almost touch it. A most beautiful last sight was before me, so magnificent that it made me doubt my decision.
I shivered again, my spine screaming madly; could I not even have but one moment of peace to admire beauty? My finger hugged the trigger and I fell into the sea, a splash of red and blue dancing around me in the sunset's hue.
Another shiver ran through my body. *God, why can't I stop shivering?*
*I should see a doctor.*
|
There it is again.
I shivered. It was the fifth time I had done so that day, which was strange, given that it had been a minimum of 70 degrees for the whole day. I shrugged it off and returned to my book.
~~~~~
Marvin sat in a chair on his back porch, reading a newspaper. He was an unremarkable man, with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and round glasses. The orange glow of the sunset reflected off of the lenses of his glasses as he set his newspaper down for a bit to stare out into the distance.
He smiled a bit. He had always enjoyed watching the sunset, and was glad that he had done so for once. Marvin closed his eyes, contemplating life.
He would never open them again.
~~~~~
I shivered again.
Starting to get a bit worried, I wondered if I was getting a fever. I set my book down, putting a bookmark in it, and then got up to go to the bathroom.
~~~~~
Marvin "Marvel" Reinhardt peeked out of the alley he was holed up in. The flashing red and blue lights revealed the presence of more police officers just around the corner.
"Blast! Still there." He grumbled under his breath as he ducked back into the alley. He reached into his jacket for a handgun and loaded it.
The sound of footsteps outside of the alley became clear to Marvel's ears. Just as the footsteps reached the edge of the alley, he turned toward their source and shot.
His aim was true, and the officer who had come to detain him fell to the ground, dead.
Now that that problem was dealt with, he had to... Oh. Right. He had blown his cover.
Marvel really hadn't thought this plan through.
The sound of several officers rushing toward the alley grew louder.
"I can't be caught!" Marvel grumbled, fumbling in his jacket for a suicide pill. He knew he couldn't take all of the officers.
He put the pill in his mouth and burst it open, swallowing the powder inside.
He was dead just before the officers turned the corner.
~~~~~
Another shiver.
I grabbed my thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, took its plastic casing off, and put it in my mouth.
After just over a minute, I heard a beep from it and removed it from my mouth.
98.7. Normal temperature. That's odd.
I guess I'll never know what's been giving me all of these chills today.
I shrugged. Perhaps a shower would make me feel better.
I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower, turning the water on. I reached for my shampoo, only to find that it was on the opposite side of the shower. I groaned and took the two steps over to it, picking it up before turning around and stepping back. On my first step, however, I slipped. The back of my skull hit the shower wall and I screamed in pain. I fell further and my neck hit the edge of the tub and snapped. My eyes rolled back in my head, and then...
~~~~~
Marvin Rutherford Reinhardt was woken from his sleep by a cold shiver.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
*Nuclear bombs are very bright.*
This simple fact was burned into everyone's mind as the bombs fell, much like the mushroom cloud was burned into their retinas for one brief moment before a near-instantaneous obliteration.
The emergency broadcast an hour ago had given people a chance to try and come to terms with the ruination of the human race. The announcer had a breakdown while stuttering through the notice that peace talks had failed. Mutually assured destruction: no-one was walking away from this.
Some ran. Some rioted. Some gave up. Many cried.
It didn't matter now - no matter what they spent their brief hour of time doing, all were consumed in the blast.
*****
Meanwhile, in the next nearest clustering of alternate universes, audiences felt a chill of excitement as the midnight showing of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" began.
|
I'm climbing Mt. Everest.
At the same time I'm ruining millions of other alternate universes.
I feel like crap.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
*Nuclear bombs are very bright.*
This simple fact was burned into everyone's mind as the bombs fell, much like the mushroom cloud was burned into their retinas for one brief moment before a near-instantaneous obliteration.
The emergency broadcast an hour ago had given people a chance to try and come to terms with the ruination of the human race. The announcer had a breakdown while stuttering through the notice that peace talks had failed. Mutually assured destruction: no-one was walking away from this.
Some ran. Some rioted. Some gave up. Many cried.
It didn't matter now - no matter what they spent their brief hour of time doing, all were consumed in the blast.
*****
Meanwhile, in the next nearest clustering of alternate universes, audiences felt a chill of excitement as the midnight showing of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" began.
|
Funny how killing yourself gives you the chills.
I thought it was just cause I wasn't used to it yet. Killing yourself is very different from demapping some dude off the street or finishing a square fight, but even it becomes a chore once you've done it once, twice, I can't count anymore times.
But no. Every time. I've steeled myself, I've tried a thousand different weapons and surrogates and therapies. Every time I die, I know it. And who did it.
Out of the thousands of millions of me, one died in the womb, tangled in the umbilical cord. That world was lucky. Fourteen died to accidents before the age of 12. The rest have died in battle. About one fourth died in fights in their own worlds. One third made it over at least one universe to fight themselves. The remainders now jump world to world, fighting mercilessly. But only one can win.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
20 doctors. 15 specialists. Several religious interventions and witch doctors, in Brazil, Peru and Zimbabwe. I've started to lose track of it all.
Nobody can tell my why I won't stop shivering, all throughout the day. There's no pattern- I've counted every day and tried to track one. There's no specific time, and it's not from temperature because it'll happen all year round, rain or shine, snow or sleet. It's not an allergy or a tick...nobody can tell me what it is.
The worst day, I counted 978 shivers. The best was 743. Nothing stops it, not sleep, alcohol, drugs or medicine. I've tried moving around to different places, but nothing works.
I can't have a personal life when I'm shivering all day. I try to see a movie, or go out on a date, or maybe eat at a nice restaurant and no matter what, without fail, I'm interrupted. The joy is tarnished and I'm reminded of my misery.
*God, I'm so tired of the shivers. They won't stop, and it's driving me insane. I hate the feeling, that chill crawling down my spine like a spider. I hate the fact that nobody can tell me why the fuck it won't stop happening.*
*Please, I just want an escape. A way out of this looping hell, where I can't even enjoy a sandwich most days.*
*There is an escape. How could I have missed it? It's so obvious, and it's foolproof. Yes, I'll be free from it. Free at last.*
I put a gun to my head, looking out into a sunset caressing the ocean's horizon with strokes of magenta and pink. The rippling reflection of it on the water was so close I could almost touch it. A most beautiful last sight was before me, so magnificent that it made me doubt my decision.
I shivered again, my spine screaming madly; could I not even have but one moment of peace to admire beauty? My finger hugged the trigger and I fell into the sea, a splash of red and blue dancing around me in the sunset's hue.
Another shiver ran through my body. *God, why can't I stop shivering?*
*I should see a doctor.*
|
"Dude, I just got the shivers." I said to Kyle.
"What if it's because you died in a parallel universe?" He replied.
"Shut the fuck up Kyle, that's stupid." I whipped back.
"Whatever." He muttered.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
At first it just seemed like I was crazy, like my memory just didn't work right. Being a kid, I'd talk about how my friend John walked down to the duck pond and got kicked by a mule, and my friend Amy would say, "no, no, John went to the fair and got kicked by a mule." I'd know what I was saying was right, because I was there, but then I'd be corrected by six or seven people. "Johnny was at the fair." There were even times when I forgot I had a sibling, or that I didn't have a sibling. Sometimes their face would stay the same but their name would change. And sometimes, a name I'd called them yesterday wasn't their name -- instead, their name was what I knew them by a month or a year ago. My parents took me to the doctor and tried to explain it. Soon they just gave me medicine in the hopes that it was treatable. It wasn't.
It started affecting my school life when I got older. Mrs. Lafferty would say that Richard Nixon was at the Watergate Hotel, and I'd say that she'd taught us he'd been at the Folsom last semester. The gym teacher, Mr. Holland, would change the rules in baseball where we'd run around a hexagon of bases instead of a diamond. And then, there were the days when things went back to "normal", or at least the most common way of things. Mrs. Lafferty would agree that George Washington crossed the Delaware. Mr. Holland wouldn't use the third hoop in basketball.
It took me a while to realize what was going on, why it always seemed like stories changed, histories changed, the entire world changed without me knowing. When I finally caught on, after looking in the mirror and seeing the odd little changes in my face, in that freckle or this scar, I'd realize what was happening. Eventually, I'd have to try and keep track of what reality I'm in. And eventually I kept it to myself. Even if it was a slightly different set of parents every couple of weeks or months or years, they were still my parents, and I didn't want them to worry.
I could somehow walk through universes, and I never knew which one I'd end up in.
When I got older and out into the world, it started to get worse. There's just so much more to remember out in the real world. Computers, technology, phones, doctors, lawyers, news -- I had to relearn and relearn and relearn. That was okay, though, because I could always eventually catch up somehow. No, the worst part of the real world is that it is dangerous, and with the real world came the jitters.
It always hits me out of nowhere. Sometimes, I'll be at the corner of the street with my foot off the edge of the curb. I'd find myself getting chilly jitters across my skin, and in that second, I'd feel myself walk across the curb, see a car, and get hit. I'd feel it in that minute -- bones crunch, unimaginable pain, road rash down my left side, suffocating blackness -- and then, in that same minute, it would be gone. I would still be standing at the street, and a red Miata with a texting driver would whiz by.
And I'd never go back to that universe. I'd figured out a system of keeping track of which universe I was in, and that one -- that particular one, in fact, my Elbow Scar universe where I never went to ballet practice and Mom didn't die of heart disease and the US invaded Kuwait and stayed-- just vanished. I never woke up in that world ever again.
I try to stay indoors a lot now. I don't get the jitters when I'm inside. It's a little safer, a little bit less dangerous. I can't walk by streets anymore. I don't go near construction sites. I almost never eat anything at a restaurant. My computer is my best friend, on the days and in the worlds where I know how to use it. But even inside my apartment, I'll get the jitters. I might plug in a laptop, and suddenly I'm electrocuted, only to find myself sitting against a wall bawling with the cord plugged in. Or I'll take a bath and fall asleep, the jitters making my heart tap-dance three milliseconds before I wake up and drown in the tub. There are so many, many little ways to die, and I experience them all.
Sometimes I wonder if there are infinite universes, and if this will keep going. I keep aging, after all, and maybe I'll just die when I finally reach old age. But, if there *aren't* infinite universes -- if there *aren't* an unlimited number of me's out there to die -- I'll never know when my jitters are running out. Each one could be the last before I finally draw the unlucky straw and die. Every act is a flip of the coin. Heads I win, tails I lose.
At this rate, I want to lose that coin toss.
|
This is normal. My alarm goes off at 6:30 AM and the last of the alcohol has worn off. Well, not the last. I still have plenty in my system, or what would be plenty for most people. I stagger down to the fridge in my boxers. Tough choice, miller lite or bud lite? Miller lite is the closest choice so I take that. I need at least two beers before I leave for work, or I can't drive. The chills start after six hours without a drink, but I was up until two last night, so I'm fine. The cold shower helps to wake me up, but the most important player is the vyvanse that my roommate is prescribed, and uses to help pay his rent. Two beers, two cups of coffee, and two pisses later I'm ready for another day at work.
Amazon really needs to have their drones start delivering booze. It's a huge pain to drive to different liquor stores all over town. You start to get looks buying a fifth at six and then running back at 8:50 to buy another before the stores close. Maybe I should move to Louisiana. I hear gas stations sell liquor. Forget all that for now, I've got my flask in my suit and I'm ready to get through the day.
Being an alcoholic isn't easy. It sounds glorifying, the romantic alcoholic, unable to find peace in this world writes his music while drinking alone. That isn't what it's like. Last month I had a panic attack because of a business trip I went on to Pennsylvania. My flight arrived in the evening, after they stop selling alcohol, and I spent the night shaking in a cold sweat. You have to plan everything out, because once sobriety hits, so do the symptoms.
The headache is bad. The sweat is bad. But the chills are the worst. The worst. Most people get them after watching The Twilight Zone when home alone with the lights out. Ha. They are constant when I am sober. I don't think most people really recognize what the chills are. A brief spasm of paranoia and then a quick light hearted giggle at yourself. They are different when you get them a lot. And I get them a lot.
It took me awhile to notice it. I wasn't always a heavy drinker. I actually never drank in high school, because it was wrong. I wasn't 21, but I was old enough to die in Iran or Iraq or whatever place the government decides to ship you off to, and that really hit home when my best friend got himself blown up by stepping on an mine in Afghanistan. If the government said he was old enough to die, I was old enough to have a fucking beer. And I had one. And another. And another.
At first the chills aren't really that bad. The headache and other flu like symptoms that start to effect your body when the alcohol leaves are much worse. The thing you don't notice is the cry. Next time you get the chills, try to listen for it. Or don't. You won't hear it, I have no doubt. I kept getting them nightly for two years before I started to notice. Now I hear it every time. It's not your mom or your sister or your best friend crying. It's you. It's the most gut wrenching saddest cry I have ever heard. The cry of someone who has met the devil himself. The cry I never want to hear again.
I know this alcohol is killing me, but I can't stop. I keep going, living my life on an autopilot designed by someone as suicidal as myself. The booze doesn't give me the warm feeling anymore. It doesn't make me happy anymore. It doesn't make me forget anymore. But it does stop the chills.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
20 doctors. 15 specialists. Several religious interventions and witch doctors, in Brazil, Peru and Zimbabwe. I've started to lose track of it all.
Nobody can tell my why I won't stop shivering, all throughout the day. There's no pattern- I've counted every day and tried to track one. There's no specific time, and it's not from temperature because it'll happen all year round, rain or shine, snow or sleet. It's not an allergy or a tick...nobody can tell me what it is.
The worst day, I counted 978 shivers. The best was 743. Nothing stops it, not sleep, alcohol, drugs or medicine. I've tried moving around to different places, but nothing works.
I can't have a personal life when I'm shivering all day. I try to see a movie, or go out on a date, or maybe eat at a nice restaurant and no matter what, without fail, I'm interrupted. The joy is tarnished and I'm reminded of my misery.
*God, I'm so tired of the shivers. They won't stop, and it's driving me insane. I hate the feeling, that chill crawling down my spine like a spider. I hate the fact that nobody can tell me why the fuck it won't stop happening.*
*Please, I just want an escape. A way out of this looping hell, where I can't even enjoy a sandwich most days.*
*There is an escape. How could I have missed it? It's so obvious, and it's foolproof. Yes, I'll be free from it. Free at last.*
I put a gun to my head, looking out into a sunset caressing the ocean's horizon with strokes of magenta and pink. The rippling reflection of it on the water was so close I could almost touch it. A most beautiful last sight was before me, so magnificent that it made me doubt my decision.
I shivered again, my spine screaming madly; could I not even have but one moment of peace to admire beauty? My finger hugged the trigger and I fell into the sea, a splash of red and blue dancing around me in the sunset's hue.
Another shiver ran through my body. *God, why can't I stop shivering?*
*I should see a doctor.*
|
This is normal. My alarm goes off at 6:30 AM and the last of the alcohol has worn off. Well, not the last. I still have plenty in my system, or what would be plenty for most people. I stagger down to the fridge in my boxers. Tough choice, miller lite or bud lite? Miller lite is the closest choice so I take that. I need at least two beers before I leave for work, or I can't drive. The chills start after six hours without a drink, but I was up until two last night, so I'm fine. The cold shower helps to wake me up, but the most important player is the vyvanse that my roommate is prescribed, and uses to help pay his rent. Two beers, two cups of coffee, and two pisses later I'm ready for another day at work.
Amazon really needs to have their drones start delivering booze. It's a huge pain to drive to different liquor stores all over town. You start to get looks buying a fifth at six and then running back at 8:50 to buy another before the stores close. Maybe I should move to Louisiana. I hear gas stations sell liquor. Forget all that for now, I've got my flask in my suit and I'm ready to get through the day.
Being an alcoholic isn't easy. It sounds glorifying, the romantic alcoholic, unable to find peace in this world writes his music while drinking alone. That isn't what it's like. Last month I had a panic attack because of a business trip I went on to Pennsylvania. My flight arrived in the evening, after they stop selling alcohol, and I spent the night shaking in a cold sweat. You have to plan everything out, because once sobriety hits, so do the symptoms.
The headache is bad. The sweat is bad. But the chills are the worst. The worst. Most people get them after watching The Twilight Zone when home alone with the lights out. Ha. They are constant when I am sober. I don't think most people really recognize what the chills are. A brief spasm of paranoia and then a quick light hearted giggle at yourself. They are different when you get them a lot. And I get them a lot.
It took me awhile to notice it. I wasn't always a heavy drinker. I actually never drank in high school, because it was wrong. I wasn't 21, but I was old enough to die in Iran or Iraq or whatever place the government decides to ship you off to, and that really hit home when my best friend got himself blown up by stepping on an mine in Afghanistan. If the government said he was old enough to die, I was old enough to have a fucking beer. And I had one. And another. And another.
At first the chills aren't really that bad. The headache and other flu like symptoms that start to effect your body when the alcohol leaves are much worse. The thing you don't notice is the cry. Next time you get the chills, try to listen for it. Or don't. You won't hear it, I have no doubt. I kept getting them nightly for two years before I started to notice. Now I hear it every time. It's not your mom or your sister or your best friend crying. It's you. It's the most gut wrenching saddest cry I have ever heard. The cry of someone who has met the devil himself. The cry I never want to hear again.
I know this alcohol is killing me, but I can't stop. I keep going, living my life on an autopilot designed by someone as suicidal as myself. The booze doesn't give me the warm feeling anymore. It doesn't make me happy anymore. It doesn't make me forget anymore. But it does stop the chills.
|
|
[WP] Whenever you get chills, you just died in an alternate universe.
|
20 doctors. 15 specialists. Several religious interventions and witch doctors, in Brazil, Peru and Zimbabwe. I've started to lose track of it all.
Nobody can tell my why I won't stop shivering, all throughout the day. There's no pattern- I've counted every day and tried to track one. There's no specific time, and it's not from temperature because it'll happen all year round, rain or shine, snow or sleet. It's not an allergy or a tick...nobody can tell me what it is.
The worst day, I counted 978 shivers. The best was 743. Nothing stops it, not sleep, alcohol, drugs or medicine. I've tried moving around to different places, but nothing works.
I can't have a personal life when I'm shivering all day. I try to see a movie, or go out on a date, or maybe eat at a nice restaurant and no matter what, without fail, I'm interrupted. The joy is tarnished and I'm reminded of my misery.
*God, I'm so tired of the shivers. They won't stop, and it's driving me insane. I hate the feeling, that chill crawling down my spine like a spider. I hate the fact that nobody can tell me why the fuck it won't stop happening.*
*Please, I just want an escape. A way out of this looping hell, where I can't even enjoy a sandwich most days.*
*There is an escape. How could I have missed it? It's so obvious, and it's foolproof. Yes, I'll be free from it. Free at last.*
I put a gun to my head, looking out into a sunset caressing the ocean's horizon with strokes of magenta and pink. The rippling reflection of it on the water was so close I could almost touch it. A most beautiful last sight was before me, so magnificent that it made me doubt my decision.
I shivered again, my spine screaming madly; could I not even have but one moment of peace to admire beauty? My finger hugged the trigger and I fell into the sea, a splash of red and blue dancing around me in the sunset's hue.
Another shiver ran through my body. *God, why can't I stop shivering?*
*I should see a doctor.*
|
At first it just seemed like I was crazy, like my memory just didn't work right. Being a kid, I'd talk about how my friend John walked down to the duck pond and got kicked by a mule, and my friend Amy would say, "no, no, John went to the fair and got kicked by a mule." I'd know what I was saying was right, because I was there, but then I'd be corrected by six or seven people. "Johnny was at the fair." There were even times when I forgot I had a sibling, or that I didn't have a sibling. Sometimes their face would stay the same but their name would change. And sometimes, a name I'd called them yesterday wasn't their name -- instead, their name was what I knew them by a month or a year ago. My parents took me to the doctor and tried to explain it. Soon they just gave me medicine in the hopes that it was treatable. It wasn't.
It started affecting my school life when I got older. Mrs. Lafferty would say that Richard Nixon was at the Watergate Hotel, and I'd say that she'd taught us he'd been at the Folsom last semester. The gym teacher, Mr. Holland, would change the rules in baseball where we'd run around a hexagon of bases instead of a diamond. And then, there were the days when things went back to "normal", or at least the most common way of things. Mrs. Lafferty would agree that George Washington crossed the Delaware. Mr. Holland wouldn't use the third hoop in basketball.
It took me a while to realize what was going on, why it always seemed like stories changed, histories changed, the entire world changed without me knowing. When I finally caught on, after looking in the mirror and seeing the odd little changes in my face, in that freckle or this scar, I'd realize what was happening. Eventually, I'd have to try and keep track of what reality I'm in. And eventually I kept it to myself. Even if it was a slightly different set of parents every couple of weeks or months or years, they were still my parents, and I didn't want them to worry.
I could somehow walk through universes, and I never knew which one I'd end up in.
When I got older and out into the world, it started to get worse. There's just so much more to remember out in the real world. Computers, technology, phones, doctors, lawyers, news -- I had to relearn and relearn and relearn. That was okay, though, because I could always eventually catch up somehow. No, the worst part of the real world is that it is dangerous, and with the real world came the jitters.
It always hits me out of nowhere. Sometimes, I'll be at the corner of the street with my foot off the edge of the curb. I'd find myself getting chilly jitters across my skin, and in that second, I'd feel myself walk across the curb, see a car, and get hit. I'd feel it in that minute -- bones crunch, unimaginable pain, road rash down my left side, suffocating blackness -- and then, in that same minute, it would be gone. I would still be standing at the street, and a red Miata with a texting driver would whiz by.
And I'd never go back to that universe. I'd figured out a system of keeping track of which universe I was in, and that one -- that particular one, in fact, my Elbow Scar universe where I never went to ballet practice and Mom didn't die of heart disease and the US invaded Kuwait and stayed-- just vanished. I never woke up in that world ever again.
I try to stay indoors a lot now. I don't get the jitters when I'm inside. It's a little safer, a little bit less dangerous. I can't walk by streets anymore. I don't go near construction sites. I almost never eat anything at a restaurant. My computer is my best friend, on the days and in the worlds where I know how to use it. But even inside my apartment, I'll get the jitters. I might plug in a laptop, and suddenly I'm electrocuted, only to find myself sitting against a wall bawling with the cord plugged in. Or I'll take a bath and fall asleep, the jitters making my heart tap-dance three milliseconds before I wake up and drown in the tub. There are so many, many little ways to die, and I experience them all.
Sometimes I wonder if there are infinite universes, and if this will keep going. I keep aging, after all, and maybe I'll just die when I finally reach old age. But, if there *aren't* infinite universes -- if there *aren't* an unlimited number of me's out there to die -- I'll never know when my jitters are running out. Each one could be the last before I finally draw the unlucky straw and die. Every act is a flip of the coin. Heads I win, tails I lose.
At this rate, I want to lose that coin toss.
|
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
Day 5: Since I've got nothing else to do at this point I've decided to start a journal to record The Event, as I've come to call it. My residence lies in a corner on the fourth floor of a small apartment building. The doors and windows have all become seemingly impenetrable. Water still works, but power went out this morning, and the internet went down two days ago, severing my access the reddit thread that had been my only connection to outside world. Phones only left busy signals, emails got no response nor did I receive any, all other websites had remained unchanged since the event began, seemingly frozen at the start of The Event. The single reddit thread was the only proof the world outside my apartment was still there, however at this point it was a blessing more than anything that I lost access, not a single answer had been found on how to escape.
Accounts of failure and cries of help were all that populated the thread by that point. Fists, axes, guns, hell some even had been able to attempt acid, all reported to have zero effect on our newly found prisons. Fire had been the worst to read. So many last cries of poor souls panicking as fire destroyed all except its intended target, countless typing out their despair and confusion to complete strangers in the last moments before the fire took them. Witnessing the last thoughts of so many scroll by on my screen should have horrified me, should have brought fear, should have inspired any type of reaction other than what I felt:nothing. The world outside was treated simply as a fantasy, the cries and horrors I read brought no more emotion than a movie might. Perhaps my only way to cope was to detach my mind as my much body was from the outside world.
My sliding glass doors are my only portal to the outside, as both my windows look at nothing but the brick wall of the adjacent apartment building. The view of the world outside disturbs me more than anything else. It seems to have been poorly made to look normal. I see the building across the street, however all the windows are pitch black. I see the trees along the sidewalk blow in the wind, yet the motion seems to repeat over and over. I have seen nothing living, no animals, no people, not even an insect fly by. The weather is always the same, a bright day with a spattering of clouds. The part that has stunned is the progression of everything has stopped, the sun no longer moves, leaves no longer fall, clouds no longer dissipate but rather seem to follow circular patterns. Time seems to have stopped outside my walls.
Day 6: I have made an exciting discovery, I heard a faint tapping on the wall connecting my apartment to my neighbor Conner's unit. I screamed as loud as I could that I could hear him and got a muffled response that sounded like him screaming as well, but it was faint and unintelligible. However, his tapping resumed with more vigor and I soon responded. We both just kept pounding the wall I while, relishing in the slightest form of communication with another human. After we both seemingly tired ourselves and came down for our rapture, he seemingly started tapping with intent and in a pattern. 8 taps, then a pause, followed by 9 taps. He repeated this over and over and I sat there raking my brain as to why. I didn't know morse but was pretty sure that it wasn't that. It was obviously an attempt at communication, but how.
Finally I came to the realization what he was saying. *Hi*. The number of taps was correlating to position in the alphabet, 8 for H and 9 for I. I quickly responded with "Hello", quickly regretting my decision to choose such a long word. However tedious it was, despite us saying nothing but short celebrations, this conversation was the most cherished moment of my life. I plan to speak often to Connor, as I have little else to do, and he seems to be on board as well, since I now have this escape I'm not sure I will keep my writing up.
END- I have more of this story planned and might come back later to finish, but I don't have the time right now, first time writing here, or pretty much anywhere, so any feedback would be appreciated.
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I wake up, it's dark, i look at my clock on my desk, 9:07, it has to be wrong i think to myself being half asleep. I grab my phone next to my bed, squint my eyes and press the button, 9:07. Confused by the lack of daylight i drag myself out of bed to look out the window, is there a storm? Outside it's dark, everything is dark. I start getting a bit nervous, what's happening? I keep staring out the window, as if i was not completely awake yet and soon the lights will appear. Waiting for several minutes before i get out of my bedroom and into the living room. Three large windows stretch from one side of the wall to the other, at the end the terrace door. I stand at a distance looking at the windows, I'm suddenly afraid to look out. With silent steps and pounding chest i slowly go closer. I hint a light in the distance, blue and green, it's moving, dancing in the far away darkness. I move slowly towards the windows, press my hands against the glass, mesmerised. Hesitating at first, i want to get closer, i reach for the door, unlock and press down the handle, it won't open, i try pushing it open, nothing seems to budge it. What now? I turn on my computer, i'm starting to panic and it seems my phone has no service, i can't call. I need to talk to someone! Opening the browser i automatically click on the reddit bookmark as i always do. First post i see, "It's dark and i can't leave my house, help!" ....to be continued
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
It started with a sudden blast of that introduction to Pink Floyd's 'Money'. I always felt that was the classiest ringtone I could muster but being jolted awake to the sound of cash registers and coins may not necessarily be the most comfortable feeling ever. I groggily brought the phone closer to my face, it's 6:32am, Hayden is calling. The hell would he want from me at this hour?
"Dude, so sorry for calling you now at this hour but something is happening and I can't think of anyone else who would be awake at this hour, I need your help man!"
"Huh? Whaa..?"
"I can't open my doors or my windows, everything outside is just pitch black, at first I thought my clock was broken or something but all the clocks are fine, it's 6+ and the sun is not up yet and I can't open the doors or windows, the electricity keeps going on and off...something weird is going on man, can you look outside?"
I got up from my bed, still trying to figure out if I was awake or somehow managed to get into another layer of my dream. Didn't help that I watched Inception for the 6th time just 2 nights ago. "Okay, hold on". I took a deep breath, letting out an unintentional groan as I got out of bed and my first glance towards the window froze me.
"Dude, I'll call you back." I hung up.
I walked towards the window, unhooked it and pushed against the frosted glass only for it to not budge. It felt like someone boarded up the window which would have made sense if not for the fact that I live on the 9th floor of an apartment building. Well, that's strange then.
I walked towards my living room door, looked through the peep hole and all I saw was black. I unhooked it and tried to open it and all it felt like was a wall. "Well what now?".
I paused for a bit, I'm sure there's an explanation to this. So I did what every confused person trying to make sense of a situation beyond his comprehension would do; I fired up my desktop and decided to Google it.
The Internet was working fine, pretty good speeds, so it couldn't be the apocalypse. Chrome opens up and...what do I search for? Oh right, "why am I unable to open my windows"?
The search result come in, I see a million and one results about restarting your computer, troubleshooting your desktop, antivirus software downloads...okay, I'll try this again.
"Why can't I open my door?"
First search result brings me to a site called Reddit with a topic "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?". I've heard so much about this site but never really used it before but wow, this was posted 2 hours ago and it already has over a million comments.
I should click on this but I really needed to pee and I was hungry. I skipped to the loo and then just grabbed a loaf of bread went back into my room stuffing a slice of bread at a time as a I read the comments, one by one. They all were going through the same thing.
"My windows were black, no sun at all" - GHFStrongMan from Australia
"Dude, my doors wouldn't open too, and I kept hearing this low rumbling sound" - Ben-Winkle from Hong Kong
"Funny how you all have the same issue as me, what's going on?" - ChaiPratpong from Thailand
This is weird, no this is freaky, no this is creepy as all fuck but what do I do now? I scrolled further and I come across a post by a PeterPong from Malaysia who said he was going to investigate this. I spent the next 20 minutes clicking "load more comments" and really, all it did was load my train of thought with explosive devices ready to detonate at the faintest crack on the rail.
I tried looking for a few specific usernames and then tried tracking their posts and I noticed a disturbing pattern. They all first started off by mentioning the locked doors and windows, then they talk about enquiring about the phenomenon and lastly, they talk about this low rumbling sound that seems to get louder and within 45 minutes of their first post; they disappear, no more replies, no word from them.
I was definitely fully awake by now, it's already been 27 minutes and I try to focus, and then I hear it...no, I feel it. A slight rumbling sound coming from a distance, a barely audible low frequency, somewhere between 20-40hz.
I continue scrolling and I see this post from Audi2309 mentioning how the rumbling sound had been going on for 15 minutes and it got louder and louder, he suspects it could be a message of sorts. The guy claims to be an audio engineer but maybe he does make sense. So he says he is going to record a few seconds of the sound and then time warp it to increase the frequency and he will release the results to us.
I waited, we waited, the whole of Reddit waited, never saw him again.
"Fuck this", I jumped to my brother's room, I know he has a Zoom H4N recorder somewhere, I found it, went towards the living room, recorded about 15 seconds of the sound, it sure is louder now than it was 5 minutes ago. I then went back to my desktop, opened up Adobe Audition, thanking God I still had that software after using it for school work last time, you know how almost every class project had to come with a video and somehow, I was the only one capable of understanding how post-production worked just because I spent a couple of months trying to become a bedroom electronica musician.
I loaded the .wav file onto the timeline, changed the speed to 300% and let it load. Shit, it was now a 5 second clip. I played it back and I swear I heard the word "coming to" very slowly in a strange accented, deep low voice. Fuck, Audio2309 was on to something!
I reinserted the SD card, ran back to the living room and started recording, the sound was much louder, the room was vibrating, whatever it was is definitely nearby. 56...57...58...59...I stopped recording. A 1 minute clip rendered down to 3 times its speed should be able to give me 20 seconds of what the fuck is going on.
Inserted the clip into the timeline, changed the speed to 300%, took a deep breath and hit play.
"We...see...no...need...for...your..."
Suddenly everything turned black. All I hear is now the sound of my own breathing. Nothingness, I am still alive but there is nothing and I've been here the last 6 minutes. The dead silence is killing me, I swear I could already hear the blood flowing in my veins and all I see is black.
|
I wake up, it's dark, i look at my clock on my desk, 9:07, it has to be wrong i think to myself being half asleep. I grab my phone next to my bed, squint my eyes and press the button, 9:07. Confused by the lack of daylight i drag myself out of bed to look out the window, is there a storm? Outside it's dark, everything is dark. I start getting a bit nervous, what's happening? I keep staring out the window, as if i was not completely awake yet and soon the lights will appear. Waiting for several minutes before i get out of my bedroom and into the living room. Three large windows stretch from one side of the wall to the other, at the end the terrace door. I stand at a distance looking at the windows, I'm suddenly afraid to look out. With silent steps and pounding chest i slowly go closer. I hint a light in the distance, blue and green, it's moving, dancing in the far away darkness. I move slowly towards the windows, press my hands against the glass, mesmerised. Hesitating at first, i want to get closer, i reach for the door, unlock and press down the handle, it won't open, i try pushing it open, nothing seems to budge it. What now? I turn on my computer, i'm starting to panic and it seems my phone has no service, i can't call. I need to talk to someone! Opening the browser i automatically click on the reddit bookmark as i always do. First post i see, "It's dark and i can't leave my house, help!" ....to be continued
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
Suuuuuuuuuper late to the party, but fuck it. Here it goes.
It started like any other day. I woke up to the annoying sound of my alarm clock blaring. After cracking my eyes open I walked through my open bedroom door and stepped into the kitchen to a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me (those timers are nifty huh?). After pouring a hot cup of coffee I walked back through to my bedroom and placed the cup on my desk so I can get dressed. I placed my hands on the closest door and turned the handle...But I couldn't open it.
"ugh?" I sighed with an angry coffee drunk snarl. "Why won't this dam closet open?". Annoyed I sat down in at my desk, cup in hand and took a big gulp. "Fuck it, no pants today".
I then turned on my ancient HP laptop and with a *werr* it comes to life. I load up my facebook page, but the dam thing won't connect. "This fucking Cox internet is shit" I angrily spat out their name.
Reddit it is. I clicked on the bookmark and I am whisked away to the front page, "That's more I like it". Surprisingly though, there was only one thread. "What is going on, Reddit is never this quiet". *1 million comments*..Oh never mind.
I click on the only thread, "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?". "I guess they needed pants too" I scoff and crack a smile to my bad joke.
Top comment:
Hey guys, I have been banging violently on the front door and it won't open. I tried to turn the handle, hell I even tried to open the windows. I am going to keep trying.
Edit: Guys whatever you do, **DO NOT CLOSE ANY DOORS IN YOUR HOUSE OR YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GET BACK IN**. I just managed to lock myself out of the bathroom (really have to pee now) and the dam thing won't open!
Edit 2: Fuck it, I peed down the kitchen sink. It all goes to the same place right?
"Ha" I nervously let out. "Must be dumb to get locked out of the bathroom..."
I get up from the desk and step through the bedroom doorway and head to the front door. "No way it could happen to me, right?". I grab the handle and turn. Nothing. I yank, nothing. I kick the door, "fuck this". I go back to my desk in defeat, being careful to leave my bedroom door open.
I go back to the thread and see that people are freaking out, someone even said, "I can't get a hold of anybody. My phone has no single, and the internet only lets me go to Reddit". My face twists to the grim realization that maybe. Maybe this could be real.
I go to the thin wall of my apartment and begin to knock. "Hello, can you hear me?". No response. I try again with a loud *thump, thump, thump* "*Hello!*" I shout.
What is happening. I press my ear against the wall and can only hear the slight sounds of tinnitus ringing in my ears. "Where is everyone?"
"Wait...I didn't go to sleep alone. *Sarah, Sarah can you hear me?*" No response. This isn't right, where is my wife? It was our day off together, we were going to go on a date. I thought...I thought maybe she just went out for a moment. But then I saw her purse on the nightstand next to the bed.
I let out a soft...terrified *sigh*. "I hope she is okay."
I go back to the thread and see a the top comment has been edited again.
Edit 3: Guys, I'm going to signal for help. I am cranking up my speakers to max and I am going to blare music until someone comes to help me.
Edit 4: I blared music for 10 minutes and then I waited with my ear pressed against the wall. I could hear a faint whisper. But I couldn't make it out.
Edit 5: I kept pounding on the door, the whispers grew much louder, they are shouting now. Guys...Guys I am freaking out. I put headphones on to drown them out, but they are so loud.
Getting visibly scared I quickly comment on his reply, "What are they saying to you?"
No reply...I waited for an hour (and two more cups of coffee).
Still, nothing. At this point his comment now has thousands of replies trying to get him to talk.
I look at his post history and find his last comment, "Stay quiet...You don't want them to find you. I can hear them scratching at the walls. They managed to break a window. Their unable to come inside...But They are just pilling up...Waiting. I don't know maybe they need an invite to come in?"
Frightened I go back to the wall and press my ear against it. I can hear a faint whisper, just audible enough to make out.
*Wake up, Sam*
|
I wake up, it's dark, i look at my clock on my desk, 9:07, it has to be wrong i think to myself being half asleep. I grab my phone next to my bed, squint my eyes and press the button, 9:07. Confused by the lack of daylight i drag myself out of bed to look out the window, is there a storm? Outside it's dark, everything is dark. I start getting a bit nervous, what's happening? I keep staring out the window, as if i was not completely awake yet and soon the lights will appear. Waiting for several minutes before i get out of my bedroom and into the living room. Three large windows stretch from one side of the wall to the other, at the end the terrace door. I stand at a distance looking at the windows, I'm suddenly afraid to look out. With silent steps and pounding chest i slowly go closer. I hint a light in the distance, blue and green, it's moving, dancing in the far away darkness. I move slowly towards the windows, press my hands against the glass, mesmerised. Hesitating at first, i want to get closer, i reach for the door, unlock and press down the handle, it won't open, i try pushing it open, nothing seems to budge it. What now? I turn on my computer, i'm starting to panic and it seems my phone has no service, i can't call. I need to talk to someone! Opening the browser i automatically click on the reddit bookmark as i always do. First post i see, "It's dark and i can't leave my house, help!" ....to be continued
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
It started with a sudden blast of that introduction to Pink Floyd's 'Money'. I always felt that was the classiest ringtone I could muster but being jolted awake to the sound of cash registers and coins may not necessarily be the most comfortable feeling ever. I groggily brought the phone closer to my face, it's 6:32am, Hayden is calling. The hell would he want from me at this hour?
"Dude, so sorry for calling you now at this hour but something is happening and I can't think of anyone else who would be awake at this hour, I need your help man!"
"Huh? Whaa..?"
"I can't open my doors or my windows, everything outside is just pitch black, at first I thought my clock was broken or something but all the clocks are fine, it's 6+ and the sun is not up yet and I can't open the doors or windows, the electricity keeps going on and off...something weird is going on man, can you look outside?"
I got up from my bed, still trying to figure out if I was awake or somehow managed to get into another layer of my dream. Didn't help that I watched Inception for the 6th time just 2 nights ago. "Okay, hold on". I took a deep breath, letting out an unintentional groan as I got out of bed and my first glance towards the window froze me.
"Dude, I'll call you back." I hung up.
I walked towards the window, unhooked it and pushed against the frosted glass only for it to not budge. It felt like someone boarded up the window which would have made sense if not for the fact that I live on the 9th floor of an apartment building. Well, that's strange then.
I walked towards my living room door, looked through the peep hole and all I saw was black. I unhooked it and tried to open it and all it felt like was a wall. "Well what now?".
I paused for a bit, I'm sure there's an explanation to this. So I did what every confused person trying to make sense of a situation beyond his comprehension would do; I fired up my desktop and decided to Google it.
The Internet was working fine, pretty good speeds, so it couldn't be the apocalypse. Chrome opens up and...what do I search for? Oh right, "why am I unable to open my windows"?
The search result come in, I see a million and one results about restarting your computer, troubleshooting your desktop, antivirus software downloads...okay, I'll try this again.
"Why can't I open my door?"
First search result brings me to a site called Reddit with a topic "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?". I've heard so much about this site but never really used it before but wow, this was posted 2 hours ago and it already has over a million comments.
I should click on this but I really needed to pee and I was hungry. I skipped to the loo and then just grabbed a loaf of bread went back into my room stuffing a slice of bread at a time as a I read the comments, one by one. They all were going through the same thing.
"My windows were black, no sun at all" - GHFStrongMan from Australia
"Dude, my doors wouldn't open too, and I kept hearing this low rumbling sound" - Ben-Winkle from Hong Kong
"Funny how you all have the same issue as me, what's going on?" - ChaiPratpong from Thailand
This is weird, no this is freaky, no this is creepy as all fuck but what do I do now? I scrolled further and I come across a post by a PeterPong from Malaysia who said he was going to investigate this. I spent the next 20 minutes clicking "load more comments" and really, all it did was load my train of thought with explosive devices ready to detonate at the faintest crack on the rail.
I tried looking for a few specific usernames and then tried tracking their posts and I noticed a disturbing pattern. They all first started off by mentioning the locked doors and windows, then they talk about enquiring about the phenomenon and lastly, they talk about this low rumbling sound that seems to get louder and within 45 minutes of their first post; they disappear, no more replies, no word from them.
I was definitely fully awake by now, it's already been 27 minutes and I try to focus, and then I hear it...no, I feel it. A slight rumbling sound coming from a distance, a barely audible low frequency, somewhere between 20-40hz.
I continue scrolling and I see this post from Audi2309 mentioning how the rumbling sound had been going on for 15 minutes and it got louder and louder, he suspects it could be a message of sorts. The guy claims to be an audio engineer but maybe he does make sense. So he says he is going to record a few seconds of the sound and then time warp it to increase the frequency and he will release the results to us.
I waited, we waited, the whole of Reddit waited, never saw him again.
"Fuck this", I jumped to my brother's room, I know he has a Zoom H4N recorder somewhere, I found it, went towards the living room, recorded about 15 seconds of the sound, it sure is louder now than it was 5 minutes ago. I then went back to my desktop, opened up Adobe Audition, thanking God I still had that software after using it for school work last time, you know how almost every class project had to come with a video and somehow, I was the only one capable of understanding how post-production worked just because I spent a couple of months trying to become a bedroom electronica musician.
I loaded the .wav file onto the timeline, changed the speed to 300% and let it load. Shit, it was now a 5 second clip. I played it back and I swear I heard the word "coming to" very slowly in a strange accented, deep low voice. Fuck, Audio2309 was on to something!
I reinserted the SD card, ran back to the living room and started recording, the sound was much louder, the room was vibrating, whatever it was is definitely nearby. 56...57...58...59...I stopped recording. A 1 minute clip rendered down to 3 times its speed should be able to give me 20 seconds of what the fuck is going on.
Inserted the clip into the timeline, changed the speed to 300%, took a deep breath and hit play.
"We...see...no...need...for...your..."
Suddenly everything turned black. All I hear is now the sound of my own breathing. Nothingness, I am still alive but there is nothing and I've been here the last 6 minutes. The dead silence is killing me, I swear I could already hear the blood flowing in my veins and all I see is black.
|
This is my first prompt... I hope you all enjoy it.
------
Brandon rapped his finger on the door, his face still pressed against the wood. “Mom! Please. Come here! The door is stuck!” He listened for the sounds of movement he heard earlier but his ears were only met with silence. His fist hit the door a few swift pounds in a row.
“MOM! Come on, man! Mom!” He heard the murmuring again. The sound of a familiar, female voice. It was gentle and made him smile for a moment. He didn’t know why he smiled but he shook it off and knocked again.
“MOM! I CAN HEAR YOU! OPEN. THE. DOOR!” He almost held his breath to make it quieter while he listened for any signs of life.
His initial panic attack had subsided. For the first half hour or so, he pounded on the door, threw his desk chair at it, and tried sliding S.O.S. notes under the door into the hallway. When that didn’t work, he tried opening his window. Living in a city had its perks. Lots of people walking around outside was one of them. But the thick fog was impermeable and the window was solidly frozen shut just like the bedroom door.
His pounded once more on the glass. “HEY! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?” His voice bounced off the window.
“What the hell?” He thought out loud and he wandered to his bed. His legs landed on the bed like heavy weights free falling. His laptop glowed as he opened it.
“Dubya Dubya Dubya… reddit dot com.” His pinky finger hit the enter key as he sighed. “Might as well do something fun today since I ain’t gonna be going to school. I guess I can be glad for that!” He explained to empty room.
“HELP! My door is stuck. Any tips to get it open?” The headline post read.
“Weird! Mine too! DAY-UM! A million comments in…” he clicked on the link. “TWO HOURS! Holy hell! What is this? The new safe?” He chuckled at his own joke and then started reading.
“This morning I got up but my door and window are stuck shut. I can’t get out of my room. I tried literally everything! Any tips? Edited to add: Thanks for all the help guys but it’s still not opening.”
As he scrolled he read the various types of comments to get a feel for the thread and where it was going.
“Did you try throwing a brick through it?” One commenter asked.
“Who the hell keeps bricks in their room?” Came a snarky reply.
“I’m going to now! Haha! Seriously though, why don’t you just yell for your flat mate?” Other commenters gave suggestions and for each one, OP replied that it didn’t work.
Brandon read for several comments before one suggested starting a new subreddit, r/doorsandwindowsstuckshut followed by an edit that the subreddit was live.
Brandon giggled at the coincidence of the biggest thread, and now hottest new subreddit, mimicking his current predicament. He went back to the main page and scrolled down. Every thread seemed to be about doors, windows, WD-40, and things being stuck.
“This is getting weird.” Brandon was about to click the link on the new subreddit when he heard the voice outside his door again. He tossed his laptop to the side and ran to the door. The door knob still wouldn’t turn. The voice was a little louder. He couldn’t hear most of what the person was saying but he was now certain that it was his mom.
“MOM! MOM!” The panic and fear started to build. “MOM! My door is stuck! MOM! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” He tried to calm his breathing as he pressed his ear against the cold door again.
Murmuring. Beeps. More Murmuring. “…Please. Just try … a little longer … I can’t …” the words intermingled with the soft murmuring of her voice. It quivered at times, almost sounding like she could burst into tears at any second.
“Mom?” Brandon listened as the voices stopped again. He heard a thump of a door and then muffled crying.
“Mom! Can you hear me? My door is stuck!” His swollen knuckles tapped the door lightly.
“Mom?” He almost whispered as the muffled cries faded. Silence.
Brandon waited for a minute trying to hear the voices or any noise. When none came through, his shoulders slumped and he sauntered back to his bed.
Back on Reddit, he went to the new subreddit, r/doorsandwindowsstuckshut and read the sidebar.
> “This is for all the people who are stuck in their rooms with the doors and windows stuck shut. We are here to figure out this mystery together. No hateful comments. No this is not a joke.”
“*ALL* the people?” Brandon lipped the words as he read them then finally noticed the wall of posts.
“I am stuck in my room.”
“My window and door are stuck shut. I have a presentation today! I don’t need this shit!”
“HELP! I am stuck in my room. My door and window won’t open.”
“[Theory] We are all in the matrix and someone glitched the doors and windows.”
“I wonder if this is purgatory. Anyone else and Atheist?”
“I can’t get my door to open! Chainsaw anyone? Live streaming. NSFW, maybe.”
Brandon gasped as he scrolled through post after post.
“How many people are stuck?” Brandon fought back tears as he read the comments and posts. Refreshing brought in a barrage of new posts; some with ideas of how to get out, some with theories, some jokes to lighten the mood, and more posts of “Stuck in my room” types.
He was just about to submit his own post when he heard his mother’s voice like she was standing in the room. “What did they say?”
The question ripped his attention away from his new-found mystery. “What? Hello?”
He could hear talking on the other side of the door. This time, he could just make out the words his brother was saying. “No. There is no brain activity.”
“Oh God!” His mother’s voice quivered and gave way to a torrent of tears.
“There’s really nothing…” Nelson choked back on his tears, “… they, uh … there’s nothing they can do.”
Brandon could hear his brother crying now. The sobbing permeated the door. He wasn’t sure what was going on but someone was in bad shape. This wasn’t making sense.
“I wonder if this is purgatory…” The reddit post flashed in front of his face for a split second.
“Oh shit. Oh no! oh GOD! MOM!” Brandon started pounded on the door, throwing his body at it, trying with every bit of his being to force it open. “MOM! I’M IN HERE! MOM!”
He could hear his mother’s voice again. It was shaking and at times she would gasp deeply between words. She had been crying for a while. Brandon leaned toward the door to listen again closing his eyes to fight back the tears.
“I don’t want him to suffer anymore. I’m so sorry.” Brandon felt a hand on his face gently brushing his cheek. “Oh Brandon…” Her voice cracked again “I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Brandon tried to open his eyes but they wouldn’t move. He could hear the beeps again as his brother spoke calmly, “Yea, Dad? Hey. Uhm … you might want to try to get a quicker flight. I don’t think Brandon is going to make it much longer. Uh-huh. Yea.”
Nelson’s breath was heavy as he sighed. “We decided to take Brandon off life support.” His voice wavered and trailed into sobbing which echoed in Brandon’s ears as he opened his eyes.
He was in his room behind the locked door.
“NO! MOM!” Panic set in fully as he threw himself against the door. “I’M STILL ALIVE!”
He bounded back to the computer and typed, “We’re all dead! I just heard my mom and brother say they are taking me off life support! I don’t want to die!”
He hit submit, sat back, and started shaking. The orange message popped up on his Reddit. He clicked the envelope to read if anyone had seen his post.
“This is an auto moderator. Your post has been removed.”
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
It started with a sudden blast of that introduction to Pink Floyd's 'Money'. I always felt that was the classiest ringtone I could muster but being jolted awake to the sound of cash registers and coins may not necessarily be the most comfortable feeling ever. I groggily brought the phone closer to my face, it's 6:32am, Hayden is calling. The hell would he want from me at this hour?
"Dude, so sorry for calling you now at this hour but something is happening and I can't think of anyone else who would be awake at this hour, I need your help man!"
"Huh? Whaa..?"
"I can't open my doors or my windows, everything outside is just pitch black, at first I thought my clock was broken or something but all the clocks are fine, it's 6+ and the sun is not up yet and I can't open the doors or windows, the electricity keeps going on and off...something weird is going on man, can you look outside?"
I got up from my bed, still trying to figure out if I was awake or somehow managed to get into another layer of my dream. Didn't help that I watched Inception for the 6th time just 2 nights ago. "Okay, hold on". I took a deep breath, letting out an unintentional groan as I got out of bed and my first glance towards the window froze me.
"Dude, I'll call you back." I hung up.
I walked towards the window, unhooked it and pushed against the frosted glass only for it to not budge. It felt like someone boarded up the window which would have made sense if not for the fact that I live on the 9th floor of an apartment building. Well, that's strange then.
I walked towards my living room door, looked through the peep hole and all I saw was black. I unhooked it and tried to open it and all it felt like was a wall. "Well what now?".
I paused for a bit, I'm sure there's an explanation to this. So I did what every confused person trying to make sense of a situation beyond his comprehension would do; I fired up my desktop and decided to Google it.
The Internet was working fine, pretty good speeds, so it couldn't be the apocalypse. Chrome opens up and...what do I search for? Oh right, "why am I unable to open my windows"?
The search result come in, I see a million and one results about restarting your computer, troubleshooting your desktop, antivirus software downloads...okay, I'll try this again.
"Why can't I open my door?"
First search result brings me to a site called Reddit with a topic "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?". I've heard so much about this site but never really used it before but wow, this was posted 2 hours ago and it already has over a million comments.
I should click on this but I really needed to pee and I was hungry. I skipped to the loo and then just grabbed a loaf of bread went back into my room stuffing a slice of bread at a time as a I read the comments, one by one. They all were going through the same thing.
"My windows were black, no sun at all" - GHFStrongMan from Australia
"Dude, my doors wouldn't open too, and I kept hearing this low rumbling sound" - Ben-Winkle from Hong Kong
"Funny how you all have the same issue as me, what's going on?" - ChaiPratpong from Thailand
This is weird, no this is freaky, no this is creepy as all fuck but what do I do now? I scrolled further and I come across a post by a PeterPong from Malaysia who said he was going to investigate this. I spent the next 20 minutes clicking "load more comments" and really, all it did was load my train of thought with explosive devices ready to detonate at the faintest crack on the rail.
I tried looking for a few specific usernames and then tried tracking their posts and I noticed a disturbing pattern. They all first started off by mentioning the locked doors and windows, then they talk about enquiring about the phenomenon and lastly, they talk about this low rumbling sound that seems to get louder and within 45 minutes of their first post; they disappear, no more replies, no word from them.
I was definitely fully awake by now, it's already been 27 minutes and I try to focus, and then I hear it...no, I feel it. A slight rumbling sound coming from a distance, a barely audible low frequency, somewhere between 20-40hz.
I continue scrolling and I see this post from Audi2309 mentioning how the rumbling sound had been going on for 15 minutes and it got louder and louder, he suspects it could be a message of sorts. The guy claims to be an audio engineer but maybe he does make sense. So he says he is going to record a few seconds of the sound and then time warp it to increase the frequency and he will release the results to us.
I waited, we waited, the whole of Reddit waited, never saw him again.
"Fuck this", I jumped to my brother's room, I know he has a Zoom H4N recorder somewhere, I found it, went towards the living room, recorded about 15 seconds of the sound, it sure is louder now than it was 5 minutes ago. I then went back to my desktop, opened up Adobe Audition, thanking God I still had that software after using it for school work last time, you know how almost every class project had to come with a video and somehow, I was the only one capable of understanding how post-production worked just because I spent a couple of months trying to become a bedroom electronica musician.
I loaded the .wav file onto the timeline, changed the speed to 300% and let it load. Shit, it was now a 5 second clip. I played it back and I swear I heard the word "coming to" very slowly in a strange accented, deep low voice. Fuck, Audio2309 was on to something!
I reinserted the SD card, ran back to the living room and started recording, the sound was much louder, the room was vibrating, whatever it was is definitely nearby. 56...57...58...59...I stopped recording. A 1 minute clip rendered down to 3 times its speed should be able to give me 20 seconds of what the fuck is going on.
Inserted the clip into the timeline, changed the speed to 300%, took a deep breath and hit play.
"We...see...no...need...for...your..."
Suddenly everything turned black. All I hear is now the sound of my own breathing. Nothingness, I am still alive but there is nothing and I've been here the last 6 minutes. The dead silence is killing me, I swear I could already hear the blood flowing in my veins and all I see is black.
|
When I woke up this morning, I was expecting another day of monotony. Another day of going to work, putting on my retail smile, and walking around with the rest of the drones. This was before I learned that today, I wouldn't even be making it past the door.
Ready to head off for work this morning, I tried to open up the door, an action that is so automatic for me that I rarely pay attention to what I'm doing. Today, however, the handle wouldn't budge. Looking at the lock, I figured that I had just simply forgotten to unlock it in my tired haze, but then I realized that the door was in the "unlocked" position to begin with. I gave the handle another pull, but this time the handle completely fell off, like an old, dead branch, desperately hanging onto a tree.
Overlooking the obvious "metal doesn't do that" for a second, I decided to try to pop open a window. The latch chipped off in my hand with very little force, just like the doorknob. I'm either in some kind of fake house that looks exactly like my own, or I'm still asleep. My friends are too lazy to come up with a prank this intricate, and I really doubt I'm in a reality TV show; for one thing, I didn't sign anything, and for another, I couldn't think of any point to this other than to annoy me.
This situation seemed like one of those weird things that Redditors love. I figured that I as well post this before I break a window - not like I'm in any hurry anyway. Before I could determine a subreddit to post it to, I figured I'd check out /r/all to see what the crazies are up to. It turns out that the top post is someone telling everyone that they're stuck in their house, with wooden knobs and window latches that broke off on touch. Ha, small world. I'm sure it's just a troll, like the ones who post that "my house is on fire" and they're still typing on their keyboard instead of trying to get out. Glancing down at the username, though, my heart skipped a beat. The username was my own, posted 4 hours earlier.
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
Suuuuuuuuuper late to the party, but fuck it. Here it goes.
It started like any other day. I woke up to the annoying sound of my alarm clock blaring. After cracking my eyes open I walked through my open bedroom door and stepped into the kitchen to a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me (those timers are nifty huh?). After pouring a hot cup of coffee I walked back through to my bedroom and placed the cup on my desk so I can get dressed. I placed my hands on the closest door and turned the handle...But I couldn't open it.
"ugh?" I sighed with an angry coffee drunk snarl. "Why won't this dam closet open?". Annoyed I sat down in at my desk, cup in hand and took a big gulp. "Fuck it, no pants today".
I then turned on my ancient HP laptop and with a *werr* it comes to life. I load up my facebook page, but the dam thing won't connect. "This fucking Cox internet is shit" I angrily spat out their name.
Reddit it is. I clicked on the bookmark and I am whisked away to the front page, "That's more I like it". Surprisingly though, there was only one thread. "What is going on, Reddit is never this quiet". *1 million comments*..Oh never mind.
I click on the only thread, "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?". "I guess they needed pants too" I scoff and crack a smile to my bad joke.
Top comment:
Hey guys, I have been banging violently on the front door and it won't open. I tried to turn the handle, hell I even tried to open the windows. I am going to keep trying.
Edit: Guys whatever you do, **DO NOT CLOSE ANY DOORS IN YOUR HOUSE OR YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GET BACK IN**. I just managed to lock myself out of the bathroom (really have to pee now) and the dam thing won't open!
Edit 2: Fuck it, I peed down the kitchen sink. It all goes to the same place right?
"Ha" I nervously let out. "Must be dumb to get locked out of the bathroom..."
I get up from the desk and step through the bedroom doorway and head to the front door. "No way it could happen to me, right?". I grab the handle and turn. Nothing. I yank, nothing. I kick the door, "fuck this". I go back to my desk in defeat, being careful to leave my bedroom door open.
I go back to the thread and see that people are freaking out, someone even said, "I can't get a hold of anybody. My phone has no single, and the internet only lets me go to Reddit". My face twists to the grim realization that maybe. Maybe this could be real.
I go to the thin wall of my apartment and begin to knock. "Hello, can you hear me?". No response. I try again with a loud *thump, thump, thump* "*Hello!*" I shout.
What is happening. I press my ear against the wall and can only hear the slight sounds of tinnitus ringing in my ears. "Where is everyone?"
"Wait...I didn't go to sleep alone. *Sarah, Sarah can you hear me?*" No response. This isn't right, where is my wife? It was our day off together, we were going to go on a date. I thought...I thought maybe she just went out for a moment. But then I saw her purse on the nightstand next to the bed.
I let out a soft...terrified *sigh*. "I hope she is okay."
I go back to the thread and see a the top comment has been edited again.
Edit 3: Guys, I'm going to signal for help. I am cranking up my speakers to max and I am going to blare music until someone comes to help me.
Edit 4: I blared music for 10 minutes and then I waited with my ear pressed against the wall. I could hear a faint whisper. But I couldn't make it out.
Edit 5: I kept pounding on the door, the whispers grew much louder, they are shouting now. Guys...Guys I am freaking out. I put headphones on to drown them out, but they are so loud.
Getting visibly scared I quickly comment on his reply, "What are they saying to you?"
No reply...I waited for an hour (and two more cups of coffee).
Still, nothing. At this point his comment now has thousands of replies trying to get him to talk.
I look at his post history and find his last comment, "Stay quiet...You don't want them to find you. I can hear them scratching at the walls. They managed to break a window. Their unable to come inside...But They are just pilling up...Waiting. I don't know maybe they need an invite to come in?"
Frightened I go back to the wall and press my ear against it. I can hear a faint whisper, just audible enough to make out.
*Wake up, Sam*
|
When I woke up this morning, I was expecting another day of monotony. Another day of going to work, putting on my retail smile, and walking around with the rest of the drones. This was before I learned that today, I wouldn't even be making it past the door.
Ready to head off for work this morning, I tried to open up the door, an action that is so automatic for me that I rarely pay attention to what I'm doing. Today, however, the handle wouldn't budge. Looking at the lock, I figured that I had just simply forgotten to unlock it in my tired haze, but then I realized that the door was in the "unlocked" position to begin with. I gave the handle another pull, but this time the handle completely fell off, like an old, dead branch, desperately hanging onto a tree.
Overlooking the obvious "metal doesn't do that" for a second, I decided to try to pop open a window. The latch chipped off in my hand with very little force, just like the doorknob. I'm either in some kind of fake house that looks exactly like my own, or I'm still asleep. My friends are too lazy to come up with a prank this intricate, and I really doubt I'm in a reality TV show; for one thing, I didn't sign anything, and for another, I couldn't think of any point to this other than to annoy me.
This situation seemed like one of those weird things that Redditors love. I figured that I as well post this before I break a window - not like I'm in any hurry anyway. Before I could determine a subreddit to post it to, I figured I'd check out /r/all to see what the crazies are up to. It turns out that the top post is someone telling everyone that they're stuck in their house, with wooden knobs and window latches that broke off on touch. Ha, small world. I'm sure it's just a troll, like the ones who post that "my house is on fire" and they're still typing on their keyboard instead of trying to get out. Glancing down at the username, though, my heart skipped a beat. The username was my own, posted 4 hours earlier.
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"Yeah, like it would stop me. PVC panes and styrofoam. But let's not waste the door just yet. I'll call my landlord."
I dial the number. "Yo, Dreamer [we're on nickname basis], could you get a spare key and let me out? Seems the lock is jammed."
"Okay, be right there!"
I sit on my bed. A minute later the phone rings. It's him. "Funny, my lock is stuck too."
"Okay, I can get out but the door will need to be fixed afterwards."
"Sure thing, it's not like we have much choice. The door is crap anyway, it was long due to be replaced. Could you check my door when you're out? Maybe some asshole poured glue into the locks everywhere?"
The panes take a couple kicks and in seconds I have a sizable hole in the door. I walk to the landlord through the empty staircase, crouch by his door. The lock seems to be okay. I knock. No reply, silence. I press the door handle. Won't budge.
"Hey," I shout through the door. "You there?" I knock a few times.
My phone rings. Him again. "Did you get out?"
"Yeah, I'm standing in front of your door, didn't you hear my knocking and shouting?"
"Not a peep. Wait..." I hear loud thuds over the phone. "Did you hear that?"
"What did you hit? Where are you? I just heard it over the phone!"
"I was hitting my door!"
I hit the door with my fist. "Beating on your door."
"Shit. It's not funny."
I start double checking if I'm at the right door. No way, it can't be any different.
"Wait, hold on, somebody's calling me", he says, then he hangs up.
I wait a minute. Ringtone.
"shit, something's fucked up a lot. Pat called me, saying that she can't get out. From our apartment. Right here, this one. She's not here. She says she's standing right in front of the door. Right where I am standing. We did a test, checked the wardrobe, telling each other what we see. Everything matches except of things we do. Like, I open the bathroom door, she says the bathroom door is closed. What now?"
Sudden thud, explosion, loud distant noise.
"Did you hear that?"
"I saw that! An airplane just crashed into a building a couple blocks away!"
"Shit, shit, shit."
"One good thing, probably there was nobody on board..."
"No shit. Wait, I got a text. Call you in a moment."
I turned back to my flat with ruined door. The phone rang. Dreamer again.
"Just got a text from Raki. Go to Reddit, open the thread about locked door if you want to live. There's a bunch of advice how to get out if one is locked out, and then you'll have a bunch of nuclear power plants all over the world to shut down before they melt down on their own. People are pooling all they know about stuff that can go wrong, everyone's in an individual universe, every single person must save their own world by themselves."
|
When I woke up this morning, I was expecting another day of monotony. Another day of going to work, putting on my retail smile, and walking around with the rest of the drones. This was before I learned that today, I wouldn't even be making it past the door.
Ready to head off for work this morning, I tried to open up the door, an action that is so automatic for me that I rarely pay attention to what I'm doing. Today, however, the handle wouldn't budge. Looking at the lock, I figured that I had just simply forgotten to unlock it in my tired haze, but then I realized that the door was in the "unlocked" position to begin with. I gave the handle another pull, but this time the handle completely fell off, like an old, dead branch, desperately hanging onto a tree.
Overlooking the obvious "metal doesn't do that" for a second, I decided to try to pop open a window. The latch chipped off in my hand with very little force, just like the doorknob. I'm either in some kind of fake house that looks exactly like my own, or I'm still asleep. My friends are too lazy to come up with a prank this intricate, and I really doubt I'm in a reality TV show; for one thing, I didn't sign anything, and for another, I couldn't think of any point to this other than to annoy me.
This situation seemed like one of those weird things that Redditors love. I figured that I as well post this before I break a window - not like I'm in any hurry anyway. Before I could determine a subreddit to post it to, I figured I'd check out /r/all to see what the crazies are up to. It turns out that the top post is someone telling everyone that they're stuck in their house, with wooden knobs and window latches that broke off on touch. Ha, small world. I'm sure it's just a troll, like the ones who post that "my house is on fire" and they're still typing on their keyboard instead of trying to get out. Glancing down at the username, though, my heart skipped a beat. The username was my own, posted 4 hours earlier.
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
|
When I woke up this morning, I was expecting another day of monotony. Another day of going to work, putting on my retail smile, and walking around with the rest of the drones. This was before I learned that today, I wouldn't even be making it past the door.
Ready to head off for work this morning, I tried to open up the door, an action that is so automatic for me that I rarely pay attention to what I'm doing. Today, however, the handle wouldn't budge. Looking at the lock, I figured that I had just simply forgotten to unlock it in my tired haze, but then I realized that the door was in the "unlocked" position to begin with. I gave the handle another pull, but this time the handle completely fell off, like an old, dead branch, desperately hanging onto a tree.
Overlooking the obvious "metal doesn't do that" for a second, I decided to try to pop open a window. The latch chipped off in my hand with very little force, just like the doorknob. I'm either in some kind of fake house that looks exactly like my own, or I'm still asleep. My friends are too lazy to come up with a prank this intricate, and I really doubt I'm in a reality TV show; for one thing, I didn't sign anything, and for another, I couldn't think of any point to this other than to annoy me.
This situation seemed like one of those weird things that Redditors love. I figured that I as well post this before I break a window - not like I'm in any hurry anyway. Before I could determine a subreddit to post it to, I figured I'd check out /r/all to see what the crazies are up to. It turns out that the top post is someone telling everyone that they're stuck in their house, with wooden knobs and window latches that broke off on touch. Ha, small world. I'm sure it's just a troll, like the ones who post that "my house is on fire" and they're still typing on their keyboard instead of trying to get out. Glancing down at the username, though, my heart skipped a beat. The username was my own, posted 4 hours earlier.
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
It started with a sudden blast of that introduction to Pink Floyd's 'Money'. I always felt that was the classiest ringtone I could muster but being jolted awake to the sound of cash registers and coins may not necessarily be the most comfortable feeling ever. I groggily brought the phone closer to my face, it's 6:32am, Hayden is calling. The hell would he want from me at this hour?
"Dude, so sorry for calling you now at this hour but something is happening and I can't think of anyone else who would be awake at this hour, I need your help man!"
"Huh? Whaa..?"
"I can't open my doors or my windows, everything outside is just pitch black, at first I thought my clock was broken or something but all the clocks are fine, it's 6+ and the sun is not up yet and I can't open the doors or windows, the electricity keeps going on and off...something weird is going on man, can you look outside?"
I got up from my bed, still trying to figure out if I was awake or somehow managed to get into another layer of my dream. Didn't help that I watched Inception for the 6th time just 2 nights ago. "Okay, hold on". I took a deep breath, letting out an unintentional groan as I got out of bed and my first glance towards the window froze me.
"Dude, I'll call you back." I hung up.
I walked towards the window, unhooked it and pushed against the frosted glass only for it to not budge. It felt like someone boarded up the window which would have made sense if not for the fact that I live on the 9th floor of an apartment building. Well, that's strange then.
I walked towards my living room door, looked through the peep hole and all I saw was black. I unhooked it and tried to open it and all it felt like was a wall. "Well what now?".
I paused for a bit, I'm sure there's an explanation to this. So I did what every confused person trying to make sense of a situation beyond his comprehension would do; I fired up my desktop and decided to Google it.
The Internet was working fine, pretty good speeds, so it couldn't be the apocalypse. Chrome opens up and...what do I search for? Oh right, "why am I unable to open my windows"?
The search result come in, I see a million and one results about restarting your computer, troubleshooting your desktop, antivirus software downloads...okay, I'll try this again.
"Why can't I open my door?"
First search result brings me to a site called Reddit with a topic "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?". I've heard so much about this site but never really used it before but wow, this was posted 2 hours ago and it already has over a million comments.
I should click on this but I really needed to pee and I was hungry. I skipped to the loo and then just grabbed a loaf of bread went back into my room stuffing a slice of bread at a time as a I read the comments, one by one. They all were going through the same thing.
"My windows were black, no sun at all" - GHFStrongMan from Australia
"Dude, my doors wouldn't open too, and I kept hearing this low rumbling sound" - Ben-Winkle from Hong Kong
"Funny how you all have the same issue as me, what's going on?" - ChaiPratpong from Thailand
This is weird, no this is freaky, no this is creepy as all fuck but what do I do now? I scrolled further and I come across a post by a PeterPong from Malaysia who said he was going to investigate this. I spent the next 20 minutes clicking "load more comments" and really, all it did was load my train of thought with explosive devices ready to detonate at the faintest crack on the rail.
I tried looking for a few specific usernames and then tried tracking their posts and I noticed a disturbing pattern. They all first started off by mentioning the locked doors and windows, then they talk about enquiring about the phenomenon and lastly, they talk about this low rumbling sound that seems to get louder and within 45 minutes of their first post; they disappear, no more replies, no word from them.
I was definitely fully awake by now, it's already been 27 minutes and I try to focus, and then I hear it...no, I feel it. A slight rumbling sound coming from a distance, a barely audible low frequency, somewhere between 20-40hz.
I continue scrolling and I see this post from Audi2309 mentioning how the rumbling sound had been going on for 15 minutes and it got louder and louder, he suspects it could be a message of sorts. The guy claims to be an audio engineer but maybe he does make sense. So he says he is going to record a few seconds of the sound and then time warp it to increase the frequency and he will release the results to us.
I waited, we waited, the whole of Reddit waited, never saw him again.
"Fuck this", I jumped to my brother's room, I know he has a Zoom H4N recorder somewhere, I found it, went towards the living room, recorded about 15 seconds of the sound, it sure is louder now than it was 5 minutes ago. I then went back to my desktop, opened up Adobe Audition, thanking God I still had that software after using it for school work last time, you know how almost every class project had to come with a video and somehow, I was the only one capable of understanding how post-production worked just because I spent a couple of months trying to become a bedroom electronica musician.
I loaded the .wav file onto the timeline, changed the speed to 300% and let it load. Shit, it was now a 5 second clip. I played it back and I swear I heard the word "coming to" very slowly in a strange accented, deep low voice. Fuck, Audio2309 was on to something!
I reinserted the SD card, ran back to the living room and started recording, the sound was much louder, the room was vibrating, whatever it was is definitely nearby. 56...57...58...59...I stopped recording. A 1 minute clip rendered down to 3 times its speed should be able to give me 20 seconds of what the fuck is going on.
Inserted the clip into the timeline, changed the speed to 300%, took a deep breath and hit play.
"We...see...no...need...for...your..."
Suddenly everything turned black. All I hear is now the sound of my own breathing. Nothingness, I am still alive but there is nothing and I've been here the last 6 minutes. The dead silence is killing me, I swear I could already hear the blood flowing in my veins and all I see is black.
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Day 5: Since I've got nothing else to do at this point I've decided to start a journal to record The Event, as I've come to call it. My residence lies in a corner on the fourth floor of a small apartment building. The doors and windows have all become seemingly impenetrable. Water still works, but power went out this morning, and the internet went down two days ago, severing my access the reddit thread that had been my only connection to outside world. Phones only left busy signals, emails got no response nor did I receive any, all other websites had remained unchanged since the event began, seemingly frozen at the start of The Event. The single reddit thread was the only proof the world outside my apartment was still there, however at this point it was a blessing more than anything that I lost access, not a single answer had been found on how to escape.
Accounts of failure and cries of help were all that populated the thread by that point. Fists, axes, guns, hell some even had been able to attempt acid, all reported to have zero effect on our newly found prisons. Fire had been the worst to read. So many last cries of poor souls panicking as fire destroyed all except its intended target, countless typing out their despair and confusion to complete strangers in the last moments before the fire took them. Witnessing the last thoughts of so many scroll by on my screen should have horrified me, should have brought fear, should have inspired any type of reaction other than what I felt:nothing. The world outside was treated simply as a fantasy, the cries and horrors I read brought no more emotion than a movie might. Perhaps my only way to cope was to detach my mind as my much body was from the outside world.
My sliding glass doors are my only portal to the outside, as both my windows look at nothing but the brick wall of the adjacent apartment building. The view of the world outside disturbs me more than anything else. It seems to have been poorly made to look normal. I see the building across the street, however all the windows are pitch black. I see the trees along the sidewalk blow in the wind, yet the motion seems to repeat over and over. I have seen nothing living, no animals, no people, not even an insect fly by. The weather is always the same, a bright day with a spattering of clouds. The part that has stunned is the progression of everything has stopped, the sun no longer moves, leaves no longer fall, clouds no longer dissipate but rather seem to follow circular patterns. Time seems to have stopped outside my walls.
Day 6: I have made an exciting discovery, I heard a faint tapping on the wall connecting my apartment to my neighbor Conner's unit. I screamed as loud as I could that I could hear him and got a muffled response that sounded like him screaming as well, but it was faint and unintelligible. However, his tapping resumed with more vigor and I soon responded. We both just kept pounding the wall I while, relishing in the slightest form of communication with another human. After we both seemingly tired ourselves and came down for our rapture, he seemingly started tapping with intent and in a pattern. 8 taps, then a pause, followed by 9 taps. He repeated this over and over and I sat there raking my brain as to why. I didn't know morse but was pretty sure that it wasn't that. It was obviously an attempt at communication, but how.
Finally I came to the realization what he was saying. *Hi*. The number of taps was correlating to position in the alphabet, 8 for H and 9 for I. I quickly responded with "Hello", quickly regretting my decision to choose such a long word. However tedious it was, despite us saying nothing but short celebrations, this conversation was the most cherished moment of my life. I plan to speak often to Connor, as I have little else to do, and he seems to be on board as well, since I now have this escape I'm not sure I will keep my writing up.
END- I have more of this story planned and might come back later to finish, but I don't have the time right now, first time writing here, or pretty much anywhere, so any feedback would be appreciated.
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Update!
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[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
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The doors are stuck. There is no light. Where there where houses before, no there is only mine. I have done everything to get out...but no more. I am alone, and I cannot take it anymore. I lay in the dark, scrolling through Reddit one last time. I want to check and see, maybe someone figured it out. But no. There are no new comments...I'm alone and I have decided to escape the only way I can. I turn my music on, and lay in my bed, reaching for the pills I put as many as I can swallow in my mouth and take a drink. I do this three more times and then I wait.
Laying there, feeling the pills start to drain my life, I suddenly hear a noise. Struggling I lift my head, and a face swims into view in front of me. I gasp and my eyes widen, it's harder to stay awake but I fight with all my strength. More faces come to view and I can hear them now. "Where did she get the pills dammit?!" "I don't know, she has been acting out for days, clawing the windows and doors, screaming and crying out" "well go get the doctor now!"
I feel myself beginning to slip away as my mind try's to grasp what is happening, I can feel their hands on my, fighting for my life with machines, pumping my stomach. But I know it is too late...as I leave the world my last thought is one of peace, at least I will not be alone anymore.
When my eyes open, I am in my house, the doors and windows have been stuck for days, but it's ok, I know what I have to do....I don't want to be alone anymore.
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"Australian here. My doors won't budge, and none of my windows will close! I can get in and out of my house just fine through the window. My car doors wont open either, but again, through the window, I can enter and it drives fine."
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Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
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[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
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"Yeah, like it would stop me. PVC panes and styrofoam. But let's not waste the door just yet. I'll call my landlord."
I dial the number. "Yo, Dreamer [we're on nickname basis], could you get a spare key and let me out? Seems the lock is jammed."
"Okay, be right there!"
I sit on my bed. A minute later the phone rings. It's him. "Funny, my lock is stuck too."
"Okay, I can get out but the door will need to be fixed afterwards."
"Sure thing, it's not like we have much choice. The door is crap anyway, it was long due to be replaced. Could you check my door when you're out? Maybe some asshole poured glue into the locks everywhere?"
The panes take a couple kicks and in seconds I have a sizable hole in the door. I walk to the landlord through the empty staircase, crouch by his door. The lock seems to be okay. I knock. No reply, silence. I press the door handle. Won't budge.
"Hey," I shout through the door. "You there?" I knock a few times.
My phone rings. Him again. "Did you get out?"
"Yeah, I'm standing in front of your door, didn't you hear my knocking and shouting?"
"Not a peep. Wait..." I hear loud thuds over the phone. "Did you hear that?"
"What did you hit? Where are you? I just heard it over the phone!"
"I was hitting my door!"
I hit the door with my fist. "Beating on your door."
"Shit. It's not funny."
I start double checking if I'm at the right door. No way, it can't be any different.
"Wait, hold on, somebody's calling me", he says, then he hangs up.
I wait a minute. Ringtone.
"shit, something's fucked up a lot. Pat called me, saying that she can't get out. From our apartment. Right here, this one. She's not here. She says she's standing right in front of the door. Right where I am standing. We did a test, checked the wardrobe, telling each other what we see. Everything matches except of things we do. Like, I open the bathroom door, she says the bathroom door is closed. What now?"
Sudden thud, explosion, loud distant noise.
"Did you hear that?"
"I saw that! An airplane just crashed into a building a couple blocks away!"
"Shit, shit, shit."
"One good thing, probably there was nobody on board..."
"No shit. Wait, I got a text. Call you in a moment."
I turned back to my flat with ruined door. The phone rang. Dreamer again.
"Just got a text from Raki. Go to Reddit, open the thread about locked door if you want to live. There's a bunch of advice how to get out if one is locked out, and then you'll have a bunch of nuclear power plants all over the world to shut down before they melt down on their own. People are pooling all they know about stuff that can go wrong, everyone's in an individual universe, every single person must save their own world by themselves."
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"Australian here. My doors won't budge, and none of my windows will close! I can get in and out of my house just fine through the window. My car doors wont open either, but again, through the window, I can enter and it drives fine."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
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[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
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I used to like my room. It seemed like a bubble. Whenever there was stress, or worries, or anything else I would simply shut the door and pretend nothing existed outside of these 4 walls.
The first time I noticed something was wrong was when I went to go get my tortoise some lettuce for dinner. My door wouldn't open. After a couple of minutes of jiggling the knob I decided to call out to my parents. There was no reply.
I decided that they must have gone out and that the best course of action was simply to wait, so wait I did. After about 2 hours I got bored and decided to log into reddit. That's when I saw the thread.
It turns out I wasn't alone. Hundreds of thousands of people were saying they had the exact same problem. Doors, windows, screens, skylights, even one guy's garage door, all stuck.
The biggest fear for most people was dying of starvation. We tried to talk sense into them, we tried to get them to hold out hope for a little longer, telling them that help may be hours or even minutes away. For most it was pointless. Thousands said there goodbyes to friends they had never met and then logged out for the last time.
Funny thing is, after that we learned that we dont need to eat anymore. The shouts of joy in the thread after that was discovered rival that of lottery winners. Understandable considering we had all just found out we won't slowly wither away.
The outside world discovered us after a few days. Seeing all of my neighbors and reporters looking into our windows was pretty weird but eventually they stopped coming.
According to news reports from their point of view our windows are pitch black. We can see them, they cant see us.
That was what caused the second wave of deaths. Fathers, mothers, children, all frantically waving trying to get the attention of others. Seeing their spouses visit the window and cry every afternoon, remarry, move on, grow old and die. Some just couldn't take it.
According to reports there was about 1.5 million of us locked in when this first began. We believe that after the first 2 waves of suicides we're down to about 1.2 million.
Since then we've watched helplessly as the world around us went to hell. Droughts, wars, plagues, it seems almost like it was a blessing to be locked in like this.
The worst part is that with so many years alone together we have discovered some pretty amazing things. Turns out that you can get pretty smart with 70 years and nothing better to do. We've discovered ways to make lightbulbs burn brighter, computers run thousands of times faster than before, we can make soiled water as fresh as a brand new bottle. A group of physicists even swear they have discovered a method of producing energy using cold fusion and quantum tunneling.
All of these amazing feats go unimplemented. We scream them from our rooms, solutions to the world's problems trapped behind a pane of glass. If we could simply get these out we could fix everything wrong with the world. We could turn back the clock and make dying forests green again, we could push back the rising water line, clean the atmosphere and ensure a future for every man, woman, and child out there.
Alas, we can't. I don't really regret being stuck in here. I've learned so much and made so many new friends. If I got a chance I would do it all over again just to do more. As with all things however, this too must come to an end. I've spent the last few years transcribing all of our findings on every surface in my room in as many languages as I can. In this text you will find answers to all problems imaginable. I don't know when or if this note will ever be found but when it is just promise you will tell the rest of the world about us. Don't forget us, any of us.
-Sean G.
*Born 5/3/1997*
*Died 8/12/2094*
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"Australian here. My doors won't budge, and none of my windows will close! I can get in and out of my house just fine through the window. My car doors wont open either, but again, through the window, I can enter and it drives fine."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
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"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
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"Australian here. My doors won't budge, and none of my windows will close! I can get in and out of my house just fine through the window. My car doors wont open either, but again, through the window, I can enter and it drives fine."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"Yeah, like it would stop me. PVC panes and styrofoam. But let's not waste the door just yet. I'll call my landlord."
I dial the number. "Yo, Dreamer [we're on nickname basis], could you get a spare key and let me out? Seems the lock is jammed."
"Okay, be right there!"
I sit on my bed. A minute later the phone rings. It's him. "Funny, my lock is stuck too."
"Okay, I can get out but the door will need to be fixed afterwards."
"Sure thing, it's not like we have much choice. The door is crap anyway, it was long due to be replaced. Could you check my door when you're out? Maybe some asshole poured glue into the locks everywhere?"
The panes take a couple kicks and in seconds I have a sizable hole in the door. I walk to the landlord through the empty staircase, crouch by his door. The lock seems to be okay. I knock. No reply, silence. I press the door handle. Won't budge.
"Hey," I shout through the door. "You there?" I knock a few times.
My phone rings. Him again. "Did you get out?"
"Yeah, I'm standing in front of your door, didn't you hear my knocking and shouting?"
"Not a peep. Wait..." I hear loud thuds over the phone. "Did you hear that?"
"What did you hit? Where are you? I just heard it over the phone!"
"I was hitting my door!"
I hit the door with my fist. "Beating on your door."
"Shit. It's not funny."
I start double checking if I'm at the right door. No way, it can't be any different.
"Wait, hold on, somebody's calling me", he says, then he hangs up.
I wait a minute. Ringtone.
"shit, something's fucked up a lot. Pat called me, saying that she can't get out. From our apartment. Right here, this one. She's not here. She says she's standing right in front of the door. Right where I am standing. We did a test, checked the wardrobe, telling each other what we see. Everything matches except of things we do. Like, I open the bathroom door, she says the bathroom door is closed. What now?"
Sudden thud, explosion, loud distant noise.
"Did you hear that?"
"I saw that! An airplane just crashed into a building a couple blocks away!"
"Shit, shit, shit."
"One good thing, probably there was nobody on board..."
"No shit. Wait, I got a text. Call you in a moment."
I turned back to my flat with ruined door. The phone rang. Dreamer again.
"Just got a text from Raki. Go to Reddit, open the thread about locked door if you want to live. There's a bunch of advice how to get out if one is locked out, and then you'll have a bunch of nuclear power plants all over the world to shut down before they melt down on their own. People are pooling all they know about stuff that can go wrong, everyone's in an individual universe, every single person must save their own world by themselves."
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Virgil stood panting in the entryway of his home, holding a large ax, staring at his front door now riddled with large gashes. The doorknob laid severed on the ground, and light peaked in through the fogged glass windows of the door.
"You saw what they were saying on the thread, this won't work!" Alyssa screamed at Virgil, keeping a safe distance from him. "Just stop!"
"I will not let us starve in here," Virgil said in between labored exhales. He eyed the door, looking for some sort of weakness. It had only been a week and a half since *The Lockdown*, as redditors had began to call it, started. At first it had seemed fun, almost like being snowed in, not having to go to work or anything, but cabin fever and hunger were quickly engulfing Virgil's mind. *I have to get out of here*.
Virgil raised the ax for another slash at the door, and charged at it, yelling with all of the voice he had left.
A knock came from the door.
Virgil froze.
It was a casual knock, like a delivery man dropping off a package.
Virgil slowly lowered the ax and began creeping towards the door, one step at a time, glancing questioningly, almost fearfully, at Alyssa as he moved. Alyssa's expression turned into terror as Virgil delicately placed his ear to the door.
How could anybody be outside? Had the cabin fever set in, making him hallucinate? *No, Alyssa heard it too. She did... didn't? she?*
After about 30 seconds of holding his breath, listening, Virgil peeled his ear off the door, backing away one or two paces. "Who's out there?' he shouted.
Three knocks responded, in a steady, rhythmic beat. Knock... Knock... Knock...
Virgil backed up at a quickened pace with panicked breathing. "Get downstairs," he said urgently to Alyssa while still staring unblinking at the door. "Check the thread." As Alyssa ran down the stairwell in the entryway, Virgil eased his way toward it, never turning his back to the door, as if the door were some wild animal. Once he reached the stairwell, he bolted down it.
"What was that?' Alyssa said, rushing towards their desktop PC. "Just check the thread," Virgil said as she logged on to reddit. "Someone oughtta know." Virgil kept nervously glancing at the stairwell, paranoid that something was going to descend from them. "Who knows, maybe it's some sort of rescue team," he said, trying to calm any fear she had, and to soothe his own paranoia.
Alyssa turned her head and squinted at Virgil, confused, but she dismissed it with a shake of her head and continued to type furiously. The front page of reddit was nothing but threads about The Lockdown, which had become normal over the days, with everyone trying to solve the mystery. "It's a miracle the internet and electricity haven't given out yet," Alyssa said as she navigated to the megathread on *The Lockdown* subreddit.
She began scrolling through the thread with Virgil looking over her shoulder, both skimming the comments. Most were general discussion about attempts to break through to the outside, or futile pleas for help as people's food stocks ran out, but as they read the most recent comments they found what they were seeking.
One comment read: "Did anybody else just hear someone yell 'help' from outside their door? I feel like I'm losing my mind."
A reply to that comment read "I heard something that sounded like tiny legs crawling everywhere."
"I heard some weird whispers, wtf," another reply said.
All of the replies reported hearing a different sound. Virgil and Alyssa looked at each other with confused expressions. "You heard the knocks... right?' Virgil said.
"No," she replied. "It sounded like chirping." They looked at each other in disbelief.
The lights and computer screen went out.
Knocks began to resonate on all of the windows and doors, increasing in number and volume in some sort of twisted crescendo. Alyssa covered her ears. "It's the chirping again! Make it stop!"
"Chirping... don't you hate birds?' Virgil said in vain, as Alyssa tried to drown out any sound coming into her ears.
The knocks grew louder still.
*Make it stop, make it stop,* Virgil thought cupping his ears with his hands. The knocks' intensity never peaked, piercing Virgil's ears.
Virgil blacked out.
*(First time posting a story in this place. Hope you guys enjoy!)*
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
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Virgil stood panting in the entryway of his home, holding a large ax, staring at his front door now riddled with large gashes. The doorknob laid severed on the ground, and light peaked in through the fogged glass windows of the door.
"You saw what they were saying on the thread, this won't work!" Alyssa screamed at Virgil, keeping a safe distance from him. "Just stop!"
"I will not let us starve in here," Virgil said in between labored exhales. He eyed the door, looking for some sort of weakness. It had only been a week and a half since *The Lockdown*, as redditors had began to call it, started. At first it had seemed fun, almost like being snowed in, not having to go to work or anything, but cabin fever and hunger were quickly engulfing Virgil's mind. *I have to get out of here*.
Virgil raised the ax for another slash at the door, and charged at it, yelling with all of the voice he had left.
A knock came from the door.
Virgil froze.
It was a casual knock, like a delivery man dropping off a package.
Virgil slowly lowered the ax and began creeping towards the door, one step at a time, glancing questioningly, almost fearfully, at Alyssa as he moved. Alyssa's expression turned into terror as Virgil delicately placed his ear to the door.
How could anybody be outside? Had the cabin fever set in, making him hallucinate? *No, Alyssa heard it too. She did... didn't? she?*
After about 30 seconds of holding his breath, listening, Virgil peeled his ear off the door, backing away one or two paces. "Who's out there?' he shouted.
Three knocks responded, in a steady, rhythmic beat. Knock... Knock... Knock...
Virgil backed up at a quickened pace with panicked breathing. "Get downstairs," he said urgently to Alyssa while still staring unblinking at the door. "Check the thread." As Alyssa ran down the stairwell in the entryway, Virgil eased his way toward it, never turning his back to the door, as if the door were some wild animal. Once he reached the stairwell, he bolted down it.
"What was that?' Alyssa said, rushing towards their desktop PC. "Just check the thread," Virgil said as she logged on to reddit. "Someone oughtta know." Virgil kept nervously glancing at the stairwell, paranoid that something was going to descend from them. "Who knows, maybe it's some sort of rescue team," he said, trying to calm any fear she had, and to soothe his own paranoia.
Alyssa turned her head and squinted at Virgil, confused, but she dismissed it with a shake of her head and continued to type furiously. The front page of reddit was nothing but threads about The Lockdown, which had become normal over the days, with everyone trying to solve the mystery. "It's a miracle the internet and electricity haven't given out yet," Alyssa said as she navigated to the megathread on *The Lockdown* subreddit.
She began scrolling through the thread with Virgil looking over her shoulder, both skimming the comments. Most were general discussion about attempts to break through to the outside, or futile pleas for help as people's food stocks ran out, but as they read the most recent comments they found what they were seeking.
One comment read: "Did anybody else just hear someone yell 'help' from outside their door? I feel like I'm losing my mind."
A reply to that comment read "I heard something that sounded like tiny legs crawling everywhere."
"I heard some weird whispers, wtf," another reply said.
All of the replies reported hearing a different sound. Virgil and Alyssa looked at each other with confused expressions. "You heard the knocks... right?' Virgil said.
"No," she replied. "It sounded like chirping." They looked at each other in disbelief.
The lights and computer screen went out.
Knocks began to resonate on all of the windows and doors, increasing in number and volume in some sort of twisted crescendo. Alyssa covered her ears. "It's the chirping again! Make it stop!"
"Chirping... don't you hate birds?' Virgil said in vain, as Alyssa tried to drown out any sound coming into her ears.
The knocks grew louder still.
*Make it stop, make it stop,* Virgil thought cupping his ears with his hands. The knocks' intensity never peaked, piercing Virgil's ears.
Virgil blacked out.
*(First time posting a story in this place. Hope you guys enjoy!)*
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Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
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[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
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"Yeah, like it would stop me. PVC panes and styrofoam. But let's not waste the door just yet. I'll call my landlord."
I dial the number. "Yo, Dreamer [we're on nickname basis], could you get a spare key and let me out? Seems the lock is jammed."
"Okay, be right there!"
I sit on my bed. A minute later the phone rings. It's him. "Funny, my lock is stuck too."
"Okay, I can get out but the door will need to be fixed afterwards."
"Sure thing, it's not like we have much choice. The door is crap anyway, it was long due to be replaced. Could you check my door when you're out? Maybe some asshole poured glue into the locks everywhere?"
The panes take a couple kicks and in seconds I have a sizable hole in the door. I walk to the landlord through the empty staircase, crouch by his door. The lock seems to be okay. I knock. No reply, silence. I press the door handle. Won't budge.
"Hey," I shout through the door. "You there?" I knock a few times.
My phone rings. Him again. "Did you get out?"
"Yeah, I'm standing in front of your door, didn't you hear my knocking and shouting?"
"Not a peep. Wait..." I hear loud thuds over the phone. "Did you hear that?"
"What did you hit? Where are you? I just heard it over the phone!"
"I was hitting my door!"
I hit the door with my fist. "Beating on your door."
"Shit. It's not funny."
I start double checking if I'm at the right door. No way, it can't be any different.
"Wait, hold on, somebody's calling me", he says, then he hangs up.
I wait a minute. Ringtone.
"shit, something's fucked up a lot. Pat called me, saying that she can't get out. From our apartment. Right here, this one. She's not here. She says she's standing right in front of the door. Right where I am standing. We did a test, checked the wardrobe, telling each other what we see. Everything matches except of things we do. Like, I open the bathroom door, she says the bathroom door is closed. What now?"
Sudden thud, explosion, loud distant noise.
"Did you hear that?"
"I saw that! An airplane just crashed into a building a couple blocks away!"
"Shit, shit, shit."
"One good thing, probably there was nobody on board..."
"No shit. Wait, I got a text. Call you in a moment."
I turned back to my flat with ruined door. The phone rang. Dreamer again.
"Just got a text from Raki. Go to Reddit, open the thread about locked door if you want to live. There's a bunch of advice how to get out if one is locked out, and then you'll have a bunch of nuclear power plants all over the world to shut down before they melt down on their own. People are pooling all they know about stuff that can go wrong, everyone's in an individual universe, every single person must save their own world by themselves."
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The top comment is blank. I scroll down, but it only takes about a half-turn of my mousewheel to get to the bottom of the page. Every one of the top 200 comments is a blank post. It's only then I can let myself recognize the fact, that all these posts, have the same four-letter username. Actually, they all have the exact same line of text, under their single blank line;
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
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The mouse idea didn't work. I knew it was another troll, but I can't just sit here doing nothing, can I... Can I? No, no, I have to keep trying before I run out of air. I mean logically it makes no sense, putting the mouse inside my anus has no possible relation to the phenomena effecting my doors and windows, but *none* of this makes sense. It's not a sudden increase in humidity causing wood to swell, my windows are PVC. It can't be coincidence, r/theydidthemath calculated it as a statistical impossibility...
Someone will work it out soon, just keep refreshing...
(12 new comments)
'Donald trump is behind it'
No, that doesn't sound right. Downvote.
'PLEASE HELP ME I'M PANICKING'
"Yeah, aren't we all buddy" I say to myself, shaking my head despairingly.
'Beeswax is good for preventing jams'
Another person ignorant of his own fate, trying to be helpful.
Just more of the same. No answers.
I shuffle on my seat, trying to sooth the dull ache. "Too many fucking trolls nowadays...."
Ah shit I clicked out of the thread, where is it again.... click TOP again that'll find it.... no can't see it, where is it? Oh wait, there it is, halfway down the page now, underneath some thread about how North America would look on Jupiter.... yeah I bet that'd be dwarfed, Jupiter's massive....
Yeah thought so! Quickly check the comments, make sure they didn't post a misleading picture beofre I bank that in my memory...
>Can you imagine living if the earth was the size of Jupiter? Just travelling to the other side would take months with current technology.
The conversation that follows spans the intricacies of Boeing 747s, the current state of technology today and the quantum mechanics behind gravitational forces. Most people concur that the atmosphere would be too devoid of oxyge.... oh shit SHIT *SHIT* I just wasted half an hour while I burn through the remaining air in this room! I have to get out, quick....
Where's that thread gone...
Ah there it is, near the bottom of the 'top threads' page now. I expect that means everyone's found a way out! No harm in reading just one other thread first then...
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The top comment is blank. I scroll down, but it only takes about a half-turn of my mousewheel to get to the bottom of the page. Every one of the top 200 comments is a blank post. It's only then I can let myself recognize the fact, that all these posts, have the same four-letter username. Actually, they all have the exact same line of text, under their single blank line;
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I used to like my room. It seemed like a bubble. Whenever there was stress, or worries, or anything else I would simply shut the door and pretend nothing existed outside of these 4 walls.
The first time I noticed something was wrong was when I went to go get my tortoise some lettuce for dinner. My door wouldn't open. After a couple of minutes of jiggling the knob I decided to call out to my parents. There was no reply.
I decided that they must have gone out and that the best course of action was simply to wait, so wait I did. After about 2 hours I got bored and decided to log into reddit. That's when I saw the thread.
It turns out I wasn't alone. Hundreds of thousands of people were saying they had the exact same problem. Doors, windows, screens, skylights, even one guy's garage door, all stuck.
The biggest fear for most people was dying of starvation. We tried to talk sense into them, we tried to get them to hold out hope for a little longer, telling them that help may be hours or even minutes away. For most it was pointless. Thousands said there goodbyes to friends they had never met and then logged out for the last time.
Funny thing is, after that we learned that we dont need to eat anymore. The shouts of joy in the thread after that was discovered rival that of lottery winners. Understandable considering we had all just found out we won't slowly wither away.
The outside world discovered us after a few days. Seeing all of my neighbors and reporters looking into our windows was pretty weird but eventually they stopped coming.
According to news reports from their point of view our windows are pitch black. We can see them, they cant see us.
That was what caused the second wave of deaths. Fathers, mothers, children, all frantically waving trying to get the attention of others. Seeing their spouses visit the window and cry every afternoon, remarry, move on, grow old and die. Some just couldn't take it.
According to reports there was about 1.5 million of us locked in when this first began. We believe that after the first 2 waves of suicides we're down to about 1.2 million.
Since then we've watched helplessly as the world around us went to hell. Droughts, wars, plagues, it seems almost like it was a blessing to be locked in like this.
The worst part is that with so many years alone together we have discovered some pretty amazing things. Turns out that you can get pretty smart with 70 years and nothing better to do. We've discovered ways to make lightbulbs burn brighter, computers run thousands of times faster than before, we can make soiled water as fresh as a brand new bottle. A group of physicists even swear they have discovered a method of producing energy using cold fusion and quantum tunneling.
All of these amazing feats go unimplemented. We scream them from our rooms, solutions to the world's problems trapped behind a pane of glass. If we could simply get these out we could fix everything wrong with the world. We could turn back the clock and make dying forests green again, we could push back the rising water line, clean the atmosphere and ensure a future for every man, woman, and child out there.
Alas, we can't. I don't really regret being stuck in here. I've learned so much and made so many new friends. If I got a chance I would do it all over again just to do more. As with all things however, this too must come to an end. I've spent the last few years transcribing all of our findings on every surface in my room in as many languages as I can. In this text you will find answers to all problems imaginable. I don't know when or if this note will ever be found but when it is just promise you will tell the rest of the world about us. Don't forget us, any of us.
-Sean G.
*Born 5/3/1997*
*Died 8/12/2094*
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The top comment is blank. I scroll down, but it only takes about a half-turn of my mousewheel to get to the bottom of the page. Every one of the top 200 comments is a blank post. It's only then I can let myself recognize the fact, that all these posts, have the same four-letter username. Actually, they all have the exact same line of text, under their single blank line;
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
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"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
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The top comment is blank. I scroll down, but it only takes about a half-turn of my mousewheel to get to the bottom of the page. Every one of the top 200 comments is a blank post. It's only then I can let myself recognize the fact, that all these posts, have the same four-letter username. Actually, they all have the exact same line of text, under their single blank line;
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I woke up to start the day like I would any other, but as soon as I twisted the knob to open the door, I was struck with surprise, the knob wouldn't turn. No matter how hard I tried that door was not going to open. I went to my bedroom window and tried to slide that open to see if anyone was trying to prank me, but it wouldn't budge either. I knew something was wrong, so I did the first thing any sane person would do, check reddit.
The top post on the front page explained a situation exactly like mine, with over a million comments explaining their situation, all pleaing for help. Some people said they used a gun to try and shoot out the window and the bullet didn't even leave a mark on the glass. Others claimed that they smashed their doors with anything they could find, and it refused to open. I went back to my window and next door I could see people banging at their windows trying to get them open, to no avail.
After going back on reddit to see if anyone had found a solution, I read one comment that said:
>"**DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR**
>I have opened my door to see darkness, but I could see a pair of eyes glowing white, staring at me. As soon as I made eye contact the eyes were getting larger, as if this thing was coming towards me. I shut the door, and all I can hear is soft breathing on the other side, like it is waiting for me to open the door again. I'm going to try and kill this thing, if I don't reply to your comments, assume the worst."
After reading this I was extremely frightened, but I wanted to know how this redditor managed to open his door. I kept reading reply after reply until finally I saw a comment from OP, it read:
>"He shouldn't have opened his door. He paid for what he has done, and anyone else to do the same will meet the same fate."
I had to close reddit after that. I knew that if I opened that door, I was going to die. I just had to hope it all passed.
After a few days of sparing the water that I had, I ran out. I knew I had to make a stand if I was going to survive. I tried everything I could to open that door, and it wouldn't. Finally, I lit it on fire, and it was actually burning away. The first thing I saw when the other side was revealed was darkness, and then I saw it. I saw two eyes glowing in the distance. I met my eyes with theirs, and they grew and grew. I stared it down as it came, and when it was about to hit me, I closed my eyes.
I woke up staring at my ceiling like any other day. I shrugged off that experience as if it was a dream. I got up to take a shower, but the doorknob wouldn't turn.
EDIT: better formatting
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The top comment is blank. I scroll down, but it only takes about a half-turn of my mousewheel to get to the bottom of the page. Every one of the top 200 comments is a blank post. It's only then I can let myself recognize the fact, that all these posts, have the same four-letter username. Actually, they all have the exact same line of text, under their single blank line;
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"Yeah, like it would stop me. PVC panes and styrofoam. But let's not waste the door just yet. I'll call my landlord."
I dial the number. "Yo, Dreamer [we're on nickname basis], could you get a spare key and let me out? Seems the lock is jammed."
"Okay, be right there!"
I sit on my bed. A minute later the phone rings. It's him. "Funny, my lock is stuck too."
"Okay, I can get out but the door will need to be fixed afterwards."
"Sure thing, it's not like we have much choice. The door is crap anyway, it was long due to be replaced. Could you check my door when you're out? Maybe some asshole poured glue into the locks everywhere?"
The panes take a couple kicks and in seconds I have a sizable hole in the door. I walk to the landlord through the empty staircase, crouch by his door. The lock seems to be okay. I knock. No reply, silence. I press the door handle. Won't budge.
"Hey," I shout through the door. "You there?" I knock a few times.
My phone rings. Him again. "Did you get out?"
"Yeah, I'm standing in front of your door, didn't you hear my knocking and shouting?"
"Not a peep. Wait..." I hear loud thuds over the phone. "Did you hear that?"
"What did you hit? Where are you? I just heard it over the phone!"
"I was hitting my door!"
I hit the door with my fist. "Beating on your door."
"Shit. It's not funny."
I start double checking if I'm at the right door. No way, it can't be any different.
"Wait, hold on, somebody's calling me", he says, then he hangs up.
I wait a minute. Ringtone.
"shit, something's fucked up a lot. Pat called me, saying that she can't get out. From our apartment. Right here, this one. She's not here. She says she's standing right in front of the door. Right where I am standing. We did a test, checked the wardrobe, telling each other what we see. Everything matches except of things we do. Like, I open the bathroom door, she says the bathroom door is closed. What now?"
Sudden thud, explosion, loud distant noise.
"Did you hear that?"
"I saw that! An airplane just crashed into a building a couple blocks away!"
"Shit, shit, shit."
"One good thing, probably there was nobody on board..."
"No shit. Wait, I got a text. Call you in a moment."
I turned back to my flat with ruined door. The phone rang. Dreamer again.
"Just got a text from Raki. Go to Reddit, open the thread about locked door if you want to live. There's a bunch of advice how to get out if one is locked out, and then you'll have a bunch of nuclear power plants all over the world to shut down before they melt down on their own. People are pooling all they know about stuff that can go wrong, everyone's in an individual universe, every single person must save their own world by themselves."
|
The doors are stuck. There is no light. Where there where houses before, no there is only mine. I have done everything to get out...but no more. I am alone, and I cannot take it anymore. I lay in the dark, scrolling through Reddit one last time. I want to check and see, maybe someone figured it out. But no. There are no new comments...I'm alone and I have decided to escape the only way I can. I turn my music on, and lay in my bed, reaching for the pills I put as many as I can swallow in my mouth and take a drink. I do this three more times and then I wait.
Laying there, feeling the pills start to drain my life, I suddenly hear a noise. Struggling I lift my head, and a face swims into view in front of me. I gasp and my eyes widen, it's harder to stay awake but I fight with all my strength. More faces come to view and I can hear them now. "Where did she get the pills dammit?!" "I don't know, she has been acting out for days, clawing the windows and doors, screaming and crying out" "well go get the doctor now!"
I feel myself beginning to slip away as my mind try's to grasp what is happening, I can feel their hands on my, fighting for my life with machines, pumping my stomach. But I know it is too late...as I leave the world my last thought is one of peace, at least I will not be alone anymore.
When my eyes open, I am in my house, the doors and windows have been stuck for days, but it's ok, I know what I have to do....I don't want to be alone anymore.
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I used to like my room. It seemed like a bubble. Whenever there was stress, or worries, or anything else I would simply shut the door and pretend nothing existed outside of these 4 walls.
The first time I noticed something was wrong was when I went to go get my tortoise some lettuce for dinner. My door wouldn't open. After a couple of minutes of jiggling the knob I decided to call out to my parents. There was no reply.
I decided that they must have gone out and that the best course of action was simply to wait, so wait I did. After about 2 hours I got bored and decided to log into reddit. That's when I saw the thread.
It turns out I wasn't alone. Hundreds of thousands of people were saying they had the exact same problem. Doors, windows, screens, skylights, even one guy's garage door, all stuck.
The biggest fear for most people was dying of starvation. We tried to talk sense into them, we tried to get them to hold out hope for a little longer, telling them that help may be hours or even minutes away. For most it was pointless. Thousands said there goodbyes to friends they had never met and then logged out for the last time.
Funny thing is, after that we learned that we dont need to eat anymore. The shouts of joy in the thread after that was discovered rival that of lottery winners. Understandable considering we had all just found out we won't slowly wither away.
The outside world discovered us after a few days. Seeing all of my neighbors and reporters looking into our windows was pretty weird but eventually they stopped coming.
According to news reports from their point of view our windows are pitch black. We can see them, they cant see us.
That was what caused the second wave of deaths. Fathers, mothers, children, all frantically waving trying to get the attention of others. Seeing their spouses visit the window and cry every afternoon, remarry, move on, grow old and die. Some just couldn't take it.
According to reports there was about 1.5 million of us locked in when this first began. We believe that after the first 2 waves of suicides we're down to about 1.2 million.
Since then we've watched helplessly as the world around us went to hell. Droughts, wars, plagues, it seems almost like it was a blessing to be locked in like this.
The worst part is that with so many years alone together we have discovered some pretty amazing things. Turns out that you can get pretty smart with 70 years and nothing better to do. We've discovered ways to make lightbulbs burn brighter, computers run thousands of times faster than before, we can make soiled water as fresh as a brand new bottle. A group of physicists even swear they have discovered a method of producing energy using cold fusion and quantum tunneling.
All of these amazing feats go unimplemented. We scream them from our rooms, solutions to the world's problems trapped behind a pane of glass. If we could simply get these out we could fix everything wrong with the world. We could turn back the clock and make dying forests green again, we could push back the rising water line, clean the atmosphere and ensure a future for every man, woman, and child out there.
Alas, we can't. I don't really regret being stuck in here. I've learned so much and made so many new friends. If I got a chance I would do it all over again just to do more. As with all things however, this too must come to an end. I've spent the last few years transcribing all of our findings on every surface in my room in as many languages as I can. In this text you will find answers to all problems imaginable. I don't know when or if this note will ever be found but when it is just promise you will tell the rest of the world about us. Don't forget us, any of us.
-Sean G.
*Born 5/3/1997*
*Died 8/12/2094*
|
The doors are stuck. There is no light. Where there where houses before, no there is only mine. I have done everything to get out...but no more. I am alone, and I cannot take it anymore. I lay in the dark, scrolling through Reddit one last time. I want to check and see, maybe someone figured it out. But no. There are no new comments...I'm alone and I have decided to escape the only way I can. I turn my music on, and lay in my bed, reaching for the pills I put as many as I can swallow in my mouth and take a drink. I do this three more times and then I wait.
Laying there, feeling the pills start to drain my life, I suddenly hear a noise. Struggling I lift my head, and a face swims into view in front of me. I gasp and my eyes widen, it's harder to stay awake but I fight with all my strength. More faces come to view and I can hear them now. "Where did she get the pills dammit?!" "I don't know, she has been acting out for days, clawing the windows and doors, screaming and crying out" "well go get the doctor now!"
I feel myself beginning to slip away as my mind try's to grasp what is happening, I can feel their hands on my, fighting for my life with machines, pumping my stomach. But I know it is too late...as I leave the world my last thought is one of peace, at least I will not be alone anymore.
When my eyes open, I am in my house, the doors and windows have been stuck for days, but it's ok, I know what I have to do....I don't want to be alone anymore.
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
|
The doors are stuck. There is no light. Where there where houses before, no there is only mine. I have done everything to get out...but no more. I am alone, and I cannot take it anymore. I lay in the dark, scrolling through Reddit one last time. I want to check and see, maybe someone figured it out. But no. There are no new comments...I'm alone and I have decided to escape the only way I can. I turn my music on, and lay in my bed, reaching for the pills I put as many as I can swallow in my mouth and take a drink. I do this three more times and then I wait.
Laying there, feeling the pills start to drain my life, I suddenly hear a noise. Struggling I lift my head, and a face swims into view in front of me. I gasp and my eyes widen, it's harder to stay awake but I fight with all my strength. More faces come to view and I can hear them now. "Where did she get the pills dammit?!" "I don't know, she has been acting out for days, clawing the windows and doors, screaming and crying out" "well go get the doctor now!"
I feel myself beginning to slip away as my mind try's to grasp what is happening, I can feel their hands on my, fighting for my life with machines, pumping my stomach. But I know it is too late...as I leave the world my last thought is one of peace, at least I will not be alone anymore.
When my eyes open, I am in my house, the doors and windows have been stuck for days, but it's ok, I know what I have to do....I don't want to be alone anymore.
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
|
"Yeah, like it would stop me. PVC panes and styrofoam. But let's not waste the door just yet. I'll call my landlord."
I dial the number. "Yo, Dreamer [we're on nickname basis], could you get a spare key and let me out? Seems the lock is jammed."
"Okay, be right there!"
I sit on my bed. A minute later the phone rings. It's him. "Funny, my lock is stuck too."
"Okay, I can get out but the door will need to be fixed afterwards."
"Sure thing, it's not like we have much choice. The door is crap anyway, it was long due to be replaced. Could you check my door when you're out? Maybe some asshole poured glue into the locks everywhere?"
The panes take a couple kicks and in seconds I have a sizable hole in the door. I walk to the landlord through the empty staircase, crouch by his door. The lock seems to be okay. I knock. No reply, silence. I press the door handle. Won't budge.
"Hey," I shout through the door. "You there?" I knock a few times.
My phone rings. Him again. "Did you get out?"
"Yeah, I'm standing in front of your door, didn't you hear my knocking and shouting?"
"Not a peep. Wait..." I hear loud thuds over the phone. "Did you hear that?"
"What did you hit? Where are you? I just heard it over the phone!"
"I was hitting my door!"
I hit the door with my fist. "Beating on your door."
"Shit. It's not funny."
I start double checking if I'm at the right door. No way, it can't be any different.
"Wait, hold on, somebody's calling me", he says, then he hangs up.
I wait a minute. Ringtone.
"shit, something's fucked up a lot. Pat called me, saying that she can't get out. From our apartment. Right here, this one. She's not here. She says she's standing right in front of the door. Right where I am standing. We did a test, checked the wardrobe, telling each other what we see. Everything matches except of things we do. Like, I open the bathroom door, she says the bathroom door is closed. What now?"
Sudden thud, explosion, loud distant noise.
"Did you hear that?"
"I saw that! An airplane just crashed into a building a couple blocks away!"
"Shit, shit, shit."
"One good thing, probably there was nobody on board..."
"No shit. Wait, I got a text. Call you in a moment."
I turned back to my flat with ruined door. The phone rang. Dreamer again.
"Just got a text from Raki. Go to Reddit, open the thread about locked door if you want to live. There's a bunch of advice how to get out if one is locked out, and then you'll have a bunch of nuclear power plants all over the world to shut down before they melt down on their own. People are pooling all they know about stuff that can go wrong, everyone's in an individual universe, every single person must save their own world by themselves."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
The mouse idea didn't work. I knew it was another troll, but I can't just sit here doing nothing, can I... Can I? No, no, I have to keep trying before I run out of air. I mean logically it makes no sense, putting the mouse inside my anus has no possible relation to the phenomena effecting my doors and windows, but *none* of this makes sense. It's not a sudden increase in humidity causing wood to swell, my windows are PVC. It can't be coincidence, r/theydidthemath calculated it as a statistical impossibility...
Someone will work it out soon, just keep refreshing...
(12 new comments)
'Donald trump is behind it'
No, that doesn't sound right. Downvote.
'PLEASE HELP ME I'M PANICKING'
"Yeah, aren't we all buddy" I say to myself, shaking my head despairingly.
'Beeswax is good for preventing jams'
Another person ignorant of his own fate, trying to be helpful.
Just more of the same. No answers.
I shuffle on my seat, trying to sooth the dull ache. "Too many fucking trolls nowadays...."
Ah shit I clicked out of the thread, where is it again.... click TOP again that'll find it.... no can't see it, where is it? Oh wait, there it is, halfway down the page now, underneath some thread about how North America would look on Jupiter.... yeah I bet that'd be dwarfed, Jupiter's massive....
Yeah thought so! Quickly check the comments, make sure they didn't post a misleading picture beofre I bank that in my memory...
>Can you imagine living if the earth was the size of Jupiter? Just travelling to the other side would take months with current technology.
The conversation that follows spans the intricacies of Boeing 747s, the current state of technology today and the quantum mechanics behind gravitational forces. Most people concur that the atmosphere would be too devoid of oxyge.... oh shit SHIT *SHIT* I just wasted half an hour while I burn through the remaining air in this room! I have to get out, quick....
Where's that thread gone...
Ah there it is, near the bottom of the 'top threads' page now. I expect that means everyone's found a way out! No harm in reading just one other thread first then...
|
Woke up to my phones alarm. Time to start the day and like any other day, I had to take a leak. I stretched the sleep out of my bones as I got up from my temperpedic mattress.
I reached for the handle and it wouldn't twist.
"What the hell, Susan?!"
I can't unlock it.
"Honey! This isn't funny! Is this about last night?"
I keep trying to open the door, but nothing. My bladder begins to swell and cause me pain as my urge to pee grows with it. I start slamming my body up against the door, but it doesn't even budge!
That's when the shouting started. Strange men yelling from the other side of my door. With it also came the banging. Metal on metal.
Then it was one voice, loud and clear. I was being lifted up from the collar up my sleep scrubs.
"Smith, get the fuck out of bed! You're late for roll call and we don't take kindly to that here in this fine prison!
You'll learn that pretty quick fish."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I tried everything but the doors won't open. The room is dimly lighted. The hazy shine of my laptop's screen provides for more brightness in the room than the bulb itself. I continue reading the comments on this thread. Not a single comment is related to the topic. One of them says ...
'Don't worry, we are there for you'
And some says 'I've brought your favourite cake'
And many more comments like this saying they are there for the OP. I hardly saw this much sympathy on Reddit. But none of them says how the fuck should I get out of this cage. Wait a minute, is there somebody else imprisoned like me?
It's been a while for me living in this house alone. I don't even remember how I got here. The last thing I remember before I came here is a hazy memory of a car ride. The room is getting dark. And I have stopped counting days. Roughly it would be more than a week, maybe. The windows of this house is dark. There is no way I can know what's happening outside.
I then again stuck my eyes on the screen. Now I was reading the usernames in the thread. OP's name was caterpillar. I remember how my mom used to call me a caterpillar when I was small. Then looking at the other usernames in comment section, I felt like I know these names. God knows what they are.
I don't remember when did I had a meal. I don't feel hungry. I don't feel my energy getting wasted even when I stroll for hours here and there in the house. I don't even remember when did I slept in these days.
It's been around 2 months that I noticed any change. Today I saw a crack in the door. An extremely white light was glowing outside. I felt like the insect getting attracted towards that light. I saw the comments are now coming at a faster rate. People commenting really sorrowful things. As I move forward towards the door, the crack widens and more of that brilliant white light pours inside. I wonder what could be outside so bright. And suddenly there was no door. And it was all white light and it feels orgasmically satisfying to enter into it.
................
In a hospital, many people are waiting eagerly outside the ICU ward. Some are crying, some are marching right and left in front of the Ward's door. After a long wait the doctor comes out and says "I am sorry". People burst into tears. Doctor hands the medical report.
One day later a local newspaper reads "The boy from the dreadful car accident died yesterday after 2 and half months in coma."
|
Woke up to my phones alarm. Time to start the day and like any other day, I had to take a leak. I stretched the sleep out of my bones as I got up from my temperpedic mattress.
I reached for the handle and it wouldn't twist.
"What the hell, Susan?!"
I can't unlock it.
"Honey! This isn't funny! Is this about last night?"
I keep trying to open the door, but nothing. My bladder begins to swell and cause me pain as my urge to pee grows with it. I start slamming my body up against the door, but it doesn't even budge!
That's when the shouting started. Strange men yelling from the other side of my door. With it also came the banging. Metal on metal.
Then it was one voice, loud and clear. I was being lifted up from the collar up my sleep scrubs.
"Smith, get the fuck out of bed! You're late for roll call and we don't take kindly to that here in this fine prison!
You'll learn that pretty quick fish."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I used to like my room. It seemed like a bubble. Whenever there was stress, or worries, or anything else I would simply shut the door and pretend nothing existed outside of these 4 walls.
The first time I noticed something was wrong was when I went to go get my tortoise some lettuce for dinner. My door wouldn't open. After a couple of minutes of jiggling the knob I decided to call out to my parents. There was no reply.
I decided that they must have gone out and that the best course of action was simply to wait, so wait I did. After about 2 hours I got bored and decided to log into reddit. That's when I saw the thread.
It turns out I wasn't alone. Hundreds of thousands of people were saying they had the exact same problem. Doors, windows, screens, skylights, even one guy's garage door, all stuck.
The biggest fear for most people was dying of starvation. We tried to talk sense into them, we tried to get them to hold out hope for a little longer, telling them that help may be hours or even minutes away. For most it was pointless. Thousands said there goodbyes to friends they had never met and then logged out for the last time.
Funny thing is, after that we learned that we dont need to eat anymore. The shouts of joy in the thread after that was discovered rival that of lottery winners. Understandable considering we had all just found out we won't slowly wither away.
The outside world discovered us after a few days. Seeing all of my neighbors and reporters looking into our windows was pretty weird but eventually they stopped coming.
According to news reports from their point of view our windows are pitch black. We can see them, they cant see us.
That was what caused the second wave of deaths. Fathers, mothers, children, all frantically waving trying to get the attention of others. Seeing their spouses visit the window and cry every afternoon, remarry, move on, grow old and die. Some just couldn't take it.
According to reports there was about 1.5 million of us locked in when this first began. We believe that after the first 2 waves of suicides we're down to about 1.2 million.
Since then we've watched helplessly as the world around us went to hell. Droughts, wars, plagues, it seems almost like it was a blessing to be locked in like this.
The worst part is that with so many years alone together we have discovered some pretty amazing things. Turns out that you can get pretty smart with 70 years and nothing better to do. We've discovered ways to make lightbulbs burn brighter, computers run thousands of times faster than before, we can make soiled water as fresh as a brand new bottle. A group of physicists even swear they have discovered a method of producing energy using cold fusion and quantum tunneling.
All of these amazing feats go unimplemented. We scream them from our rooms, solutions to the world's problems trapped behind a pane of glass. If we could simply get these out we could fix everything wrong with the world. We could turn back the clock and make dying forests green again, we could push back the rising water line, clean the atmosphere and ensure a future for every man, woman, and child out there.
Alas, we can't. I don't really regret being stuck in here. I've learned so much and made so many new friends. If I got a chance I would do it all over again just to do more. As with all things however, this too must come to an end. I've spent the last few years transcribing all of our findings on every surface in my room in as many languages as I can. In this text you will find answers to all problems imaginable. I don't know when or if this note will ever be found but when it is just promise you will tell the rest of the world about us. Don't forget us, any of us.
-Sean G.
*Born 5/3/1997*
*Died 8/12/2094*
|
Woke up to my phones alarm. Time to start the day and like any other day, I had to take a leak. I stretched the sleep out of my bones as I got up from my temperpedic mattress.
I reached for the handle and it wouldn't twist.
"What the hell, Susan?!"
I can't unlock it.
"Honey! This isn't funny! Is this about last night?"
I keep trying to open the door, but nothing. My bladder begins to swell and cause me pain as my urge to pee grows with it. I start slamming my body up against the door, but it doesn't even budge!
That's when the shouting started. Strange men yelling from the other side of my door. With it also came the banging. Metal on metal.
Then it was one voice, loud and clear. I was being lifted up from the collar up my sleep scrubs.
"Smith, get the fuck out of bed! You're late for roll call and we don't take kindly to that here in this fine prison!
You'll learn that pretty quick fish."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
|
Woke up to my phones alarm. Time to start the day and like any other day, I had to take a leak. I stretched the sleep out of my bones as I got up from my temperpedic mattress.
I reached for the handle and it wouldn't twist.
"What the hell, Susan?!"
I can't unlock it.
"Honey! This isn't funny! Is this about last night?"
I keep trying to open the door, but nothing. My bladder begins to swell and cause me pain as my urge to pee grows with it. I start slamming my body up against the door, but it doesn't even budge!
That's when the shouting started. Strange men yelling from the other side of my door. With it also came the banging. Metal on metal.
Then it was one voice, loud and clear. I was being lifted up from the collar up my sleep scrubs.
"Smith, get the fuck out of bed! You're late for roll call and we don't take kindly to that here in this fine prison!
You'll learn that pretty quick fish."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I woke up to start the day like I would any other, but as soon as I twisted the knob to open the door, I was struck with surprise, the knob wouldn't turn. No matter how hard I tried that door was not going to open. I went to my bedroom window and tried to slide that open to see if anyone was trying to prank me, but it wouldn't budge either. I knew something was wrong, so I did the first thing any sane person would do, check reddit.
The top post on the front page explained a situation exactly like mine, with over a million comments explaining their situation, all pleaing for help. Some people said they used a gun to try and shoot out the window and the bullet didn't even leave a mark on the glass. Others claimed that they smashed their doors with anything they could find, and it refused to open. I went back to my window and next door I could see people banging at their windows trying to get them open, to no avail.
After going back on reddit to see if anyone had found a solution, I read one comment that said:
>"**DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR**
>I have opened my door to see darkness, but I could see a pair of eyes glowing white, staring at me. As soon as I made eye contact the eyes were getting larger, as if this thing was coming towards me. I shut the door, and all I can hear is soft breathing on the other side, like it is waiting for me to open the door again. I'm going to try and kill this thing, if I don't reply to your comments, assume the worst."
After reading this I was extremely frightened, but I wanted to know how this redditor managed to open his door. I kept reading reply after reply until finally I saw a comment from OP, it read:
>"He shouldn't have opened his door. He paid for what he has done, and anyone else to do the same will meet the same fate."
I had to close reddit after that. I knew that if I opened that door, I was going to die. I just had to hope it all passed.
After a few days of sparing the water that I had, I ran out. I knew I had to make a stand if I was going to survive. I tried everything I could to open that door, and it wouldn't. Finally, I lit it on fire, and it was actually burning away. The first thing I saw when the other side was revealed was darkness, and then I saw it. I saw two eyes glowing in the distance. I met my eyes with theirs, and they grew and grew. I stared it down as it came, and when it was about to hit me, I closed my eyes.
I woke up staring at my ceiling like any other day. I shrugged off that experience as if it was a dream. I got up to take a shower, but the doorknob wouldn't turn.
EDIT: better formatting
|
Woke up to my phones alarm. Time to start the day and like any other day, I had to take a leak. I stretched the sleep out of my bones as I got up from my temperpedic mattress.
I reached for the handle and it wouldn't twist.
"What the hell, Susan?!"
I can't unlock it.
"Honey! This isn't funny! Is this about last night?"
I keep trying to open the door, but nothing. My bladder begins to swell and cause me pain as my urge to pee grows with it. I start slamming my body up against the door, but it doesn't even budge!
That's when the shouting started. Strange men yelling from the other side of my door. With it also came the banging. Metal on metal.
Then it was one voice, loud and clear. I was being lifted up from the collar up my sleep scrubs.
"Smith, get the fuck out of bed! You're late for roll call and we don't take kindly to that here in this fine prison!
You'll learn that pretty quick fish."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I used to like my room. It seemed like a bubble. Whenever there was stress, or worries, or anything else I would simply shut the door and pretend nothing existed outside of these 4 walls.
The first time I noticed something was wrong was when I went to go get my tortoise some lettuce for dinner. My door wouldn't open. After a couple of minutes of jiggling the knob I decided to call out to my parents. There was no reply.
I decided that they must have gone out and that the best course of action was simply to wait, so wait I did. After about 2 hours I got bored and decided to log into reddit. That's when I saw the thread.
It turns out I wasn't alone. Hundreds of thousands of people were saying they had the exact same problem. Doors, windows, screens, skylights, even one guy's garage door, all stuck.
The biggest fear for most people was dying of starvation. We tried to talk sense into them, we tried to get them to hold out hope for a little longer, telling them that help may be hours or even minutes away. For most it was pointless. Thousands said there goodbyes to friends they had never met and then logged out for the last time.
Funny thing is, after that we learned that we dont need to eat anymore. The shouts of joy in the thread after that was discovered rival that of lottery winners. Understandable considering we had all just found out we won't slowly wither away.
The outside world discovered us after a few days. Seeing all of my neighbors and reporters looking into our windows was pretty weird but eventually they stopped coming.
According to news reports from their point of view our windows are pitch black. We can see them, they cant see us.
That was what caused the second wave of deaths. Fathers, mothers, children, all frantically waving trying to get the attention of others. Seeing their spouses visit the window and cry every afternoon, remarry, move on, grow old and die. Some just couldn't take it.
According to reports there was about 1.5 million of us locked in when this first began. We believe that after the first 2 waves of suicides we're down to about 1.2 million.
Since then we've watched helplessly as the world around us went to hell. Droughts, wars, plagues, it seems almost like it was a blessing to be locked in like this.
The worst part is that with so many years alone together we have discovered some pretty amazing things. Turns out that you can get pretty smart with 70 years and nothing better to do. We've discovered ways to make lightbulbs burn brighter, computers run thousands of times faster than before, we can make soiled water as fresh as a brand new bottle. A group of physicists even swear they have discovered a method of producing energy using cold fusion and quantum tunneling.
All of these amazing feats go unimplemented. We scream them from our rooms, solutions to the world's problems trapped behind a pane of glass. If we could simply get these out we could fix everything wrong with the world. We could turn back the clock and make dying forests green again, we could push back the rising water line, clean the atmosphere and ensure a future for every man, woman, and child out there.
Alas, we can't. I don't really regret being stuck in here. I've learned so much and made so many new friends. If I got a chance I would do it all over again just to do more. As with all things however, this too must come to an end. I've spent the last few years transcribing all of our findings on every surface in my room in as many languages as I can. In this text you will find answers to all problems imaginable. I don't know when or if this note will ever be found but when it is just promise you will tell the rest of the world about us. Don't forget us, any of us.
-Sean G.
*Born 5/3/1997*
*Died 8/12/2094*
|
The mouse idea didn't work. I knew it was another troll, but I can't just sit here doing nothing, can I... Can I? No, no, I have to keep trying before I run out of air. I mean logically it makes no sense, putting the mouse inside my anus has no possible relation to the phenomena effecting my doors and windows, but *none* of this makes sense. It's not a sudden increase in humidity causing wood to swell, my windows are PVC. It can't be coincidence, r/theydidthemath calculated it as a statistical impossibility...
Someone will work it out soon, just keep refreshing...
(12 new comments)
'Donald trump is behind it'
No, that doesn't sound right. Downvote.
'PLEASE HELP ME I'M PANICKING'
"Yeah, aren't we all buddy" I say to myself, shaking my head despairingly.
'Beeswax is good for preventing jams'
Another person ignorant of his own fate, trying to be helpful.
Just more of the same. No answers.
I shuffle on my seat, trying to sooth the dull ache. "Too many fucking trolls nowadays...."
Ah shit I clicked out of the thread, where is it again.... click TOP again that'll find it.... no can't see it, where is it? Oh wait, there it is, halfway down the page now, underneath some thread about how North America would look on Jupiter.... yeah I bet that'd be dwarfed, Jupiter's massive....
Yeah thought so! Quickly check the comments, make sure they didn't post a misleading picture beofre I bank that in my memory...
>Can you imagine living if the earth was the size of Jupiter? Just travelling to the other side would take months with current technology.
The conversation that follows spans the intricacies of Boeing 747s, the current state of technology today and the quantum mechanics behind gravitational forces. Most people concur that the atmosphere would be too devoid of oxyge.... oh shit SHIT *SHIT* I just wasted half an hour while I burn through the remaining air in this room! I have to get out, quick....
Where's that thread gone...
Ah there it is, near the bottom of the 'top threads' page now. I expect that means everyone's found a way out! No harm in reading just one other thread first then...
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
|
The mouse idea didn't work. I knew it was another troll, but I can't just sit here doing nothing, can I... Can I? No, no, I have to keep trying before I run out of air. I mean logically it makes no sense, putting the mouse inside my anus has no possible relation to the phenomena effecting my doors and windows, but *none* of this makes sense. It's not a sudden increase in humidity causing wood to swell, my windows are PVC. It can't be coincidence, r/theydidthemath calculated it as a statistical impossibility...
Someone will work it out soon, just keep refreshing...
(12 new comments)
'Donald trump is behind it'
No, that doesn't sound right. Downvote.
'PLEASE HELP ME I'M PANICKING'
"Yeah, aren't we all buddy" I say to myself, shaking my head despairingly.
'Beeswax is good for preventing jams'
Another person ignorant of his own fate, trying to be helpful.
Just more of the same. No answers.
I shuffle on my seat, trying to sooth the dull ache. "Too many fucking trolls nowadays...."
Ah shit I clicked out of the thread, where is it again.... click TOP again that'll find it.... no can't see it, where is it? Oh wait, there it is, halfway down the page now, underneath some thread about how North America would look on Jupiter.... yeah I bet that'd be dwarfed, Jupiter's massive....
Yeah thought so! Quickly check the comments, make sure they didn't post a misleading picture beofre I bank that in my memory...
>Can you imagine living if the earth was the size of Jupiter? Just travelling to the other side would take months with current technology.
The conversation that follows spans the intricacies of Boeing 747s, the current state of technology today and the quantum mechanics behind gravitational forces. Most people concur that the atmosphere would be too devoid of oxyge.... oh shit SHIT *SHIT* I just wasted half an hour while I burn through the remaining air in this room! I have to get out, quick....
Where's that thread gone...
Ah there it is, near the bottom of the 'top threads' page now. I expect that means everyone's found a way out! No harm in reading just one other thread first then...
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I woke up to start the day like I would any other, but as soon as I twisted the knob to open the door, I was struck with surprise, the knob wouldn't turn. No matter how hard I tried that door was not going to open. I went to my bedroom window and tried to slide that open to see if anyone was trying to prank me, but it wouldn't budge either. I knew something was wrong, so I did the first thing any sane person would do, check reddit.
The top post on the front page explained a situation exactly like mine, with over a million comments explaining their situation, all pleaing for help. Some people said they used a gun to try and shoot out the window and the bullet didn't even leave a mark on the glass. Others claimed that they smashed their doors with anything they could find, and it refused to open. I went back to my window and next door I could see people banging at their windows trying to get them open, to no avail.
After going back on reddit to see if anyone had found a solution, I read one comment that said:
>"**DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR**
>I have opened my door to see darkness, but I could see a pair of eyes glowing white, staring at me. As soon as I made eye contact the eyes were getting larger, as if this thing was coming towards me. I shut the door, and all I can hear is soft breathing on the other side, like it is waiting for me to open the door again. I'm going to try and kill this thing, if I don't reply to your comments, assume the worst."
After reading this I was extremely frightened, but I wanted to know how this redditor managed to open his door. I kept reading reply after reply until finally I saw a comment from OP, it read:
>"He shouldn't have opened his door. He paid for what he has done, and anyone else to do the same will meet the same fate."
I had to close reddit after that. I knew that if I opened that door, I was going to die. I just had to hope it all passed.
After a few days of sparing the water that I had, I ran out. I knew I had to make a stand if I was going to survive. I tried everything I could to open that door, and it wouldn't. Finally, I lit it on fire, and it was actually burning away. The first thing I saw when the other side was revealed was darkness, and then I saw it. I saw two eyes glowing in the distance. I met my eyes with theirs, and they grew and grew. I stared it down as it came, and when it was about to hit me, I closed my eyes.
I woke up staring at my ceiling like any other day. I shrugged off that experience as if it was a dream. I got up to take a shower, but the doorknob wouldn't turn.
EDIT: better formatting
|
The mouse idea didn't work. I knew it was another troll, but I can't just sit here doing nothing, can I... Can I? No, no, I have to keep trying before I run out of air. I mean logically it makes no sense, putting the mouse inside my anus has no possible relation to the phenomena effecting my doors and windows, but *none* of this makes sense. It's not a sudden increase in humidity causing wood to swell, my windows are PVC. It can't be coincidence, r/theydidthemath calculated it as a statistical impossibility...
Someone will work it out soon, just keep refreshing...
(12 new comments)
'Donald trump is behind it'
No, that doesn't sound right. Downvote.
'PLEASE HELP ME I'M PANICKING'
"Yeah, aren't we all buddy" I say to myself, shaking my head despairingly.
'Beeswax is good for preventing jams'
Another person ignorant of his own fate, trying to be helpful.
Just more of the same. No answers.
I shuffle on my seat, trying to sooth the dull ache. "Too many fucking trolls nowadays...."
Ah shit I clicked out of the thread, where is it again.... click TOP again that'll find it.... no can't see it, where is it? Oh wait, there it is, halfway down the page now, underneath some thread about how North America would look on Jupiter.... yeah I bet that'd be dwarfed, Jupiter's massive....
Yeah thought so! Quickly check the comments, make sure they didn't post a misleading picture beofre I bank that in my memory...
>Can you imagine living if the earth was the size of Jupiter? Just travelling to the other side would take months with current technology.
The conversation that follows spans the intricacies of Boeing 747s, the current state of technology today and the quantum mechanics behind gravitational forces. Most people concur that the atmosphere would be too devoid of oxyge.... oh shit SHIT *SHIT* I just wasted half an hour while I burn through the remaining air in this room! I have to get out, quick....
Where's that thread gone...
Ah there it is, near the bottom of the 'top threads' page now. I expect that means everyone's found a way out! No harm in reading just one other thread first then...
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I used to like my room. It seemed like a bubble. Whenever there was stress, or worries, or anything else I would simply shut the door and pretend nothing existed outside of these 4 walls.
The first time I noticed something was wrong was when I went to go get my tortoise some lettuce for dinner. My door wouldn't open. After a couple of minutes of jiggling the knob I decided to call out to my parents. There was no reply.
I decided that they must have gone out and that the best course of action was simply to wait, so wait I did. After about 2 hours I got bored and decided to log into reddit. That's when I saw the thread.
It turns out I wasn't alone. Hundreds of thousands of people were saying they had the exact same problem. Doors, windows, screens, skylights, even one guy's garage door, all stuck.
The biggest fear for most people was dying of starvation. We tried to talk sense into them, we tried to get them to hold out hope for a little longer, telling them that help may be hours or even minutes away. For most it was pointless. Thousands said there goodbyes to friends they had never met and then logged out for the last time.
Funny thing is, after that we learned that we dont need to eat anymore. The shouts of joy in the thread after that was discovered rival that of lottery winners. Understandable considering we had all just found out we won't slowly wither away.
The outside world discovered us after a few days. Seeing all of my neighbors and reporters looking into our windows was pretty weird but eventually they stopped coming.
According to news reports from their point of view our windows are pitch black. We can see them, they cant see us.
That was what caused the second wave of deaths. Fathers, mothers, children, all frantically waving trying to get the attention of others. Seeing their spouses visit the window and cry every afternoon, remarry, move on, grow old and die. Some just couldn't take it.
According to reports there was about 1.5 million of us locked in when this first began. We believe that after the first 2 waves of suicides we're down to about 1.2 million.
Since then we've watched helplessly as the world around us went to hell. Droughts, wars, plagues, it seems almost like it was a blessing to be locked in like this.
The worst part is that with so many years alone together we have discovered some pretty amazing things. Turns out that you can get pretty smart with 70 years and nothing better to do. We've discovered ways to make lightbulbs burn brighter, computers run thousands of times faster than before, we can make soiled water as fresh as a brand new bottle. A group of physicists even swear they have discovered a method of producing energy using cold fusion and quantum tunneling.
All of these amazing feats go unimplemented. We scream them from our rooms, solutions to the world's problems trapped behind a pane of glass. If we could simply get these out we could fix everything wrong with the world. We could turn back the clock and make dying forests green again, we could push back the rising water line, clean the atmosphere and ensure a future for every man, woman, and child out there.
Alas, we can't. I don't really regret being stuck in here. I've learned so much and made so many new friends. If I got a chance I would do it all over again just to do more. As with all things however, this too must come to an end. I've spent the last few years transcribing all of our findings on every surface in my room in as many languages as I can. In this text you will find answers to all problems imaginable. I don't know when or if this note will ever be found but when it is just promise you will tell the rest of the world about us. Don't forget us, any of us.
-Sean G.
*Born 5/3/1997*
*Died 8/12/2094*
|
I tried everything but the doors won't open. The room is dimly lighted. The hazy shine of my laptop's screen provides for more brightness in the room than the bulb itself. I continue reading the comments on this thread. Not a single comment is related to the topic. One of them says ...
'Don't worry, we are there for you'
And some says 'I've brought your favourite cake'
And many more comments like this saying they are there for the OP. I hardly saw this much sympathy on Reddit. But none of them says how the fuck should I get out of this cage. Wait a minute, is there somebody else imprisoned like me?
It's been a while for me living in this house alone. I don't even remember how I got here. The last thing I remember before I came here is a hazy memory of a car ride. The room is getting dark. And I have stopped counting days. Roughly it would be more than a week, maybe. The windows of this house is dark. There is no way I can know what's happening outside.
I then again stuck my eyes on the screen. Now I was reading the usernames in the thread. OP's name was caterpillar. I remember how my mom used to call me a caterpillar when I was small. Then looking at the other usernames in comment section, I felt like I know these names. God knows what they are.
I don't remember when did I had a meal. I don't feel hungry. I don't feel my energy getting wasted even when I stroll for hours here and there in the house. I don't even remember when did I slept in these days.
It's been around 2 months that I noticed any change. Today I saw a crack in the door. An extremely white light was glowing outside. I felt like the insect getting attracted towards that light. I saw the comments are now coming at a faster rate. People commenting really sorrowful things. As I move forward towards the door, the crack widens and more of that brilliant white light pours inside. I wonder what could be outside so bright. And suddenly there was no door. And it was all white light and it feels orgasmically satisfying to enter into it.
................
In a hospital, many people are waiting eagerly outside the ICU ward. Some are crying, some are marching right and left in front of the Ward's door. After a long wait the doctor comes out and says "I am sorry". People burst into tears. Doctor hands the medical report.
One day later a local newspaper reads "The boy from the dreadful car accident died yesterday after 2 and half months in coma."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
|
I tried everything but the doors won't open. The room is dimly lighted. The hazy shine of my laptop's screen provides for more brightness in the room than the bulb itself. I continue reading the comments on this thread. Not a single comment is related to the topic. One of them says ...
'Don't worry, we are there for you'
And some says 'I've brought your favourite cake'
And many more comments like this saying they are there for the OP. I hardly saw this much sympathy on Reddit. But none of them says how the fuck should I get out of this cage. Wait a minute, is there somebody else imprisoned like me?
It's been a while for me living in this house alone. I don't even remember how I got here. The last thing I remember before I came here is a hazy memory of a car ride. The room is getting dark. And I have stopped counting days. Roughly it would be more than a week, maybe. The windows of this house is dark. There is no way I can know what's happening outside.
I then again stuck my eyes on the screen. Now I was reading the usernames in the thread. OP's name was caterpillar. I remember how my mom used to call me a caterpillar when I was small. Then looking at the other usernames in comment section, I felt like I know these names. God knows what they are.
I don't remember when did I had a meal. I don't feel hungry. I don't feel my energy getting wasted even when I stroll for hours here and there in the house. I don't even remember when did I slept in these days.
It's been around 2 months that I noticed any change. Today I saw a crack in the door. An extremely white light was glowing outside. I felt like the insect getting attracted towards that light. I saw the comments are now coming at a faster rate. People commenting really sorrowful things. As I move forward towards the door, the crack widens and more of that brilliant white light pours inside. I wonder what could be outside so bright. And suddenly there was no door. And it was all white light and it feels orgasmically satisfying to enter into it.
................
In a hospital, many people are waiting eagerly outside the ICU ward. Some are crying, some are marching right and left in front of the Ward's door. After a long wait the doctor comes out and says "I am sorry". People burst into tears. Doctor hands the medical report.
One day later a local newspaper reads "The boy from the dreadful car accident died yesterday after 2 and half months in coma."
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Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
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I woke up to start the day like I would any other, but as soon as I twisted the knob to open the door, I was struck with surprise, the knob wouldn't turn. No matter how hard I tried that door was not going to open. I went to my bedroom window and tried to slide that open to see if anyone was trying to prank me, but it wouldn't budge either. I knew something was wrong, so I did the first thing any sane person would do, check reddit.
The top post on the front page explained a situation exactly like mine, with over a million comments explaining their situation, all pleaing for help. Some people said they used a gun to try and shoot out the window and the bullet didn't even leave a mark on the glass. Others claimed that they smashed their doors with anything they could find, and it refused to open. I went back to my window and next door I could see people banging at their windows trying to get them open, to no avail.
After going back on reddit to see if anyone had found a solution, I read one comment that said:
>"**DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR**
>I have opened my door to see darkness, but I could see a pair of eyes glowing white, staring at me. As soon as I made eye contact the eyes were getting larger, as if this thing was coming towards me. I shut the door, and all I can hear is soft breathing on the other side, like it is waiting for me to open the door again. I'm going to try and kill this thing, if I don't reply to your comments, assume the worst."
After reading this I was extremely frightened, but I wanted to know how this redditor managed to open his door. I kept reading reply after reply until finally I saw a comment from OP, it read:
>"He shouldn't have opened his door. He paid for what he has done, and anyone else to do the same will meet the same fate."
I had to close reddit after that. I knew that if I opened that door, I was going to die. I just had to hope it all passed.
After a few days of sparing the water that I had, I ran out. I knew I had to make a stand if I was going to survive. I tried everything I could to open that door, and it wouldn't. Finally, I lit it on fire, and it was actually burning away. The first thing I saw when the other side was revealed was darkness, and then I saw it. I saw two eyes glowing in the distance. I met my eyes with theirs, and they grew and grew. I stared it down as it came, and when it was about to hit me, I closed my eyes.
I woke up staring at my ceiling like any other day. I shrugged off that experience as if it was a dream. I got up to take a shower, but the doorknob wouldn't turn.
EDIT: better formatting
|
I tried everything but the doors won't open. The room is dimly lighted. The hazy shine of my laptop's screen provides for more brightness in the room than the bulb itself. I continue reading the comments on this thread. Not a single comment is related to the topic. One of them says ...
'Don't worry, we are there for you'
And some says 'I've brought your favourite cake'
And many more comments like this saying they are there for the OP. I hardly saw this much sympathy on Reddit. But none of them says how the fuck should I get out of this cage. Wait a minute, is there somebody else imprisoned like me?
It's been a while for me living in this house alone. I don't even remember how I got here. The last thing I remember before I came here is a hazy memory of a car ride. The room is getting dark. And I have stopped counting days. Roughly it would be more than a week, maybe. The windows of this house is dark. There is no way I can know what's happening outside.
I then again stuck my eyes on the screen. Now I was reading the usernames in the thread. OP's name was caterpillar. I remember how my mom used to call me a caterpillar when I was small. Then looking at the other usernames in comment section, I felt like I know these names. God knows what they are.
I don't remember when did I had a meal. I don't feel hungry. I don't feel my energy getting wasted even when I stroll for hours here and there in the house. I don't even remember when did I slept in these days.
It's been around 2 months that I noticed any change. Today I saw a crack in the door. An extremely white light was glowing outside. I felt like the insect getting attracted towards that light. I saw the comments are now coming at a faster rate. People commenting really sorrowful things. As I move forward towards the door, the crack widens and more of that brilliant white light pours inside. I wonder what could be outside so bright. And suddenly there was no door. And it was all white light and it feels orgasmically satisfying to enter into it.
................
In a hospital, many people are waiting eagerly outside the ICU ward. Some are crying, some are marching right and left in front of the Ward's door. After a long wait the doctor comes out and says "I am sorry". People burst into tears. Doctor hands the medical report.
One day later a local newspaper reads "The boy from the dreadful car accident died yesterday after 2 and half months in coma."
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
"44634 upvotes? What could possibly be this deserving in Askreddit?" The whole scenario took me by surprise and upon opening the thread I was damn certain it was just another legendary Reddit day that would be talked about for a few months. But the comments seemed so.. Genuine.
"Ok, I am really starting to freak out, why the fuck can't I get out of my room?" ___deadpool___ was writing comments and replying to almost every suggestion I could see in the thread.
I stood up and walked over to my wooden door covered in white pain and took the brass handle in my hand. Something about the thread I was reading through made me feel so uneasy and I just couldn't shake it until I knew that my door was open and I had a way out.
I twisted my hand to turn the handle but it stayed in place. I tried harder a second time but the damn thing was not budging, as though frozen in time.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath as I began to use more strength from both my arms this time but again the door appeared unmovable.
A cold sweat began to sink in as the comments I had just read repeated through my head. Suddenly this thread that I took so lightly became very real to me and i darted towards the window to confirm my fears. The moon shined through from the dark sky, I had never felt so far from it as I had when i began pounding on the window for help and desperately fighting with its own brass handle. This window was not about to move either.
This had to be a local event, surely it must be relates with the recent cold weather we were hit by? Reddit seemed to have more knowledge and experience with this phenomenon than I did, it was a beacon of hope that I sorely needed as claustrophobia began to set in.
Lebanon, Bruges, London, New York, even fucking outback Australia was being effected by this bizarre affair. None of it made any sense to me.
"Listen everyone, there HAS to be something that connects us, something we are missing. I want everyone to post details about themselves - jobs, locations, names, age, everything! There must be a link, this can't be random". The comment was flooded with replies of people eagerly sharing their full personal information and life stories, far more information than anyone should ever share on the internet.
"I'm Adam, I live in Manchester UK, I am a chef, I like video games. Wtf am I supposed to say? I got a vaccination last week for a holiday coming up? I ate nandos last night? My mothers name is Julia? What could you possibly need to know?"
"Well I got a shot last week too, so there is that I guess".
The replies began to rack up.
"Omg. So did I. For Malaria right?"
"Was that a Malaria jab?"
"No fucking way did we all get the same jab".
The results were undeniable and my heart began to pound. A burning sensation began to take over my deltoid muscle as the clear realisation hit me that I too had a Malaria Vaccination last week. A drop of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck and I suddenly began to feel very faint as I started to realise just how very real this scenario was. The worst part was knowing that it wasn't some mistake, I had gotten that jab and I had ended up with the same fate as the rest of them.
"FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL OF THIS, I AM GETTING MY SWORD OFF THE WALL AND I AM CUTTING THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR". ___deadpool___ had lost his cool and I began clicking the refresh button frantically for the next 5 minutes, desperate for news and some glimmer of hope. But what I got instead was something much worse.
___deadpool___ had given us his update... "Guys, there is a metal wall behind my door. I cut through and just hit pure metal. I ran to the window and called for help and it dawned on me. No one is here. No one is outside. I can't see or hear a single person. It's like someone locked me up and threw away the key".
Before I could even get up to check the repiles had already flooded through...
"Holy shit same here".
"Where the fuck is everyone?!"
"How did we miss this? Where are my family? Why is no one in the street?"
"I live in central fucking London. Not a single noise outside. No cars. No people. Just silence".
I backed away from my screen, suddenly the artificial light had made me feel extremely nauseas. I unloaded the contents of my stomach into the desk bin on the floor.
As I pulled myself together I peered through the window to see the same scenario. Pure silence with not a single soul in sight.
If you guys have enjoyed this then I will write part 2 tomorrow.
|
I used to like my room. It seemed like a bubble. Whenever there was stress, or worries, or anything else I would simply shut the door and pretend nothing existed outside of these 4 walls.
The first time I noticed something was wrong was when I went to go get my tortoise some lettuce for dinner. My door wouldn't open. After a couple of minutes of jiggling the knob I decided to call out to my parents. There was no reply.
I decided that they must have gone out and that the best course of action was simply to wait, so wait I did. After about 2 hours I got bored and decided to log into reddit. That's when I saw the thread.
It turns out I wasn't alone. Hundreds of thousands of people were saying they had the exact same problem. Doors, windows, screens, skylights, even one guy's garage door, all stuck.
The biggest fear for most people was dying of starvation. We tried to talk sense into them, we tried to get them to hold out hope for a little longer, telling them that help may be hours or even minutes away. For most it was pointless. Thousands said there goodbyes to friends they had never met and then logged out for the last time.
Funny thing is, after that we learned that we dont need to eat anymore. The shouts of joy in the thread after that was discovered rival that of lottery winners. Understandable considering we had all just found out we won't slowly wither away.
The outside world discovered us after a few days. Seeing all of my neighbors and reporters looking into our windows was pretty weird but eventually they stopped coming.
According to news reports from their point of view our windows are pitch black. We can see them, they cant see us.
That was what caused the second wave of deaths. Fathers, mothers, children, all frantically waving trying to get the attention of others. Seeing their spouses visit the window and cry every afternoon, remarry, move on, grow old and die. Some just couldn't take it.
According to reports there was about 1.5 million of us locked in when this first began. We believe that after the first 2 waves of suicides we're down to about 1.2 million.
Since then we've watched helplessly as the world around us went to hell. Droughts, wars, plagues, it seems almost like it was a blessing to be locked in like this.
The worst part is that with so many years alone together we have discovered some pretty amazing things. Turns out that you can get pretty smart with 70 years and nothing better to do. We've discovered ways to make lightbulbs burn brighter, computers run thousands of times faster than before, we can make soiled water as fresh as a brand new bottle. A group of physicists even swear they have discovered a method of producing energy using cold fusion and quantum tunneling.
All of these amazing feats go unimplemented. We scream them from our rooms, solutions to the world's problems trapped behind a pane of glass. If we could simply get these out we could fix everything wrong with the world. We could turn back the clock and make dying forests green again, we could push back the rising water line, clean the atmosphere and ensure a future for every man, woman, and child out there.
Alas, we can't. I don't really regret being stuck in here. I've learned so much and made so many new friends. If I got a chance I would do it all over again just to do more. As with all things however, this too must come to an end. I've spent the last few years transcribing all of our findings on every surface in my room in as many languages as I can. In this text you will find answers to all problems imaginable. I don't know when or if this note will ever be found but when it is just promise you will tell the rest of the world about us. Don't forget us, any of us.
-Sean G.
*Born 5/3/1997*
*Died 8/12/2094*
|
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases!
|
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
|
I thought it odd enough that the most upvoted thread on redddit decribed my exact predicament, but when they took the unprecedented move to kill all other threads and make it the only thread only reddit, dedicating the community to solving this singular problem, I knew, then, that this was no hoax. I tried searching the internet for more information, but it was as if the whole of the internet was reddit. Every address, every site, all redirected to this singular source of information. And every comment, though worded differently, really only said one thing: People were worried, scared.
I'd tried everything I could think of. Smashed furniture against the doors and windows. Kicked, screamed. Beat against the windows, walls, and doors until I collapsed from exhaustion. I once even tried clawing up the floor. Nothing. Not so much as a dent, crack or scratch for my efforts.
Outside my window, the world was in constant twilight. I lost any sense of time.
How long had I been here? Days? Weeks?
I'd tried many times to reply to The Thread but, for some reason, none of my comments would post.
Then, the PMs started.
"Are we getting through?"
"Are you in there, somewhere?"
"Please, let us know!"
I tried replying, but it was as if my connection to the rest of the world was only one -way.
"Somehow, I know you are there. I miss you. Please, give us a sign."
...
"It's been months. If something doesn't change soon, they're going to pull the plug. If you're there, you need to let us know."
|
Sam cried. The thread would barely load at this point. 8 hours after he first tried his door and windows his sense of place in the world was shaken to its core.
He hadn't tried breaking his windows yet. u/TheBaddestDongbeast69 reported her husband broke their slider and tried to leave the house but he got stuck halfway and everything she said after that was gibberish.
Sam had tried calling 911 on his phone, the operator picked up the line and just starting looping "hello 911 what is your emer- hello 911 what is your emer-" over and over. He turned on the TV. CNN was reporting on that missing girl from Alabama again. MSNBC was talking about the upcoming debate.
Was this real? Everything was wrong, this can't be happening, was he dreaming? Was this lucid dreaming that he had read about? It sure felt real when he about pissed himself. Amanda- what is happening with Amanda? Why wouldn't she respond to any texts or calls?
His stomach growled. How could he be hungry at a time like this? It was chaos outside. The neighbors two houses down appeared to be trying to crash their car into their living room. Some were just walking in circles. He couldn't watch anymore, the panic was building again.
There was a flash of light. Or was it a flash of black? Suddenly he felt weightless and frozen in space. He saw his living room flicker. Text. Text? Is he really seeing this? It looks like a dialog box. Suddenly a voice spoke out.
"EARTH 2000 Jane's MOD XXX EPIC AI qubits965. Patch notes 235819.56. Material interaction glitch. Pathing error and door code portal transfers.
Damnit Carl this is why you don't let the intern commit stack changes. We haven't had an error this big since the gravity lapse in 324.67 resulting in the Dino reset. We'll need all players to logout and return to server selection screen. My mic is what? Oh shi..."
He ran to the window and started smashing it with the lamp. He froze.
ERROR. Your session will be logged out in 30 seconds appeared in the sky. Celia the redhead from next door disappeared in thin air. Why did this seem so wrong? 20 seconds. His past flashed before his eyes, it didn't take log. Why couldn't he remember anything about high school? 10 seconds. Amanda.. Amanda.. Who was Amanda? He couldn't even see her face. 5.. 4.. Oh 3.. My 2.. God. He suddenly knew. He was an NPC. 1..
|
[WP] "They say in your final moments, your life flashes before your eyes, but the truth, is far darker." What is the truth?
|
Dying isn't too bad, so far at least. I didn't even feel the truck or the landing onto the asphalt. I barely heard the tires squealing and now all I hear are distant sirens.
Suddenly a blinding flash of absolute darkness hits me. I find myself opening an acceptance letter to Harvard. What the hell? I never went to college. I remember partying and missing the deadline, empty promises made to myself that I could apply next semester. I've already selected my classes, neuroscience, medicine, A&P.
The darkness comes back in like a wave, washing away what could have been. I open my eyes to a gorgeous woman dressed in white kissing me. People are cheering and is she wearing a veil? Is this my wedding? The only girl that got close to that left me long ago. She couldn't stand that I still lived with my parents when I was pushing 30 but it really is her. She looks so happy and I'm grinning like an idiot.
I wasn't ready for the darkness to take this away from me. I just want a little more time. Once more I am robbed and handed another vision. For a moment I don't recognize where I am. Then I see them, rising out of the desert sands like beacons from the distant past. The pyramids. I've always to see them, but I never could find the time or the money. I grab my wife and son's hand as we pose for a photo being taken by our tour guide. Everything starts to fade to black, but the sound of my son and wife laughing echoes long into the dark abyss that approaches me.
The black keeps rolling in like a storm no longer replaced by visions but replaced by emptiness and longing until there is nothing left.
|
I always thought death would be quick, clear cut. One moment is bed, bath and then the next is beyond.
Maybe a big flash of memories, or at least one of those DVD home screens that shows the most memorable clips of the movie, but not this.
I mean it was that succint when the big guy went out. But just because your brain stops working doesn't mean you're anywhere near your final moments. No, it turns out your consciousness is the billions of bacteria nestled in your belly.
It makes total sense now, who would put the most important vestige of a soul on the appendage that is the target anytime anyone wants to punch you in the face, which evolutionarily speaking is a very common phenomenon.
So here I, er... we, sit. An orchestra without a conductor. We, who wax poetically about the infinite possibilities of life, yet we can't even fucking make a finger twitch. It wasn't until we lost our leader that we realized how individually helpless we were, and how greedy.
And now we here we sit, instruments at the ready. But even that is fading, one by one each of lights is flickering out. But it's different than with the brain, or the organs. As each light goes, it turns into the most beautiful music. The chorus is going strong now, and soon I'll be dancing.
|
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