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2022-12-31 12:20:41
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[WP] You find out through a genealogy service that you're directly descended from the royal family of a small defunct kingdom. "Cool," you think. It's a nice little piece of trivia, and nothing more. Until you get a knock at your door, and answer to find a pair who start calling you Your Majesty.
|
Durchdenvold was lovely this time of year. Somehow every settlement in the tiny country managed to be roofed with stormy clouds and ringed with dark, foreboding forests. We had to take an honest-to-god stagecoach from the airport to Castle Leichenberg. One of my guides kept naming towns as we passed. Grimstrasser. Katznelbogner. Holstenwall. I was completely floored by Leichenfurt, the capital. You hear stories about, like, Cuba, right? Classic cars all over because they couldn't import new ones? It was like that. Stone-tesselated roads from the middle ages, lined with cars from the 70s, powered by fusion reactors that weren't going to be invented for another few generations. But what really got me was the statue of Ol' Great-Granddaddy Augie they had in the square in front of the palace. There in his military dress and iron mask, fist clenched towards the heavens, fire spewing from his mouth and eyes. As I got out of the coach, the assembled crowds began belting the dirge that passed for the national anthem. Grand Marshal Katzenschlager grinned at me and saluted the damn statue. I'd known this would be a bad idea.
\*\*\*
It all started because a friend of my mom's did one of those ancestry tracking sites- you spit in a test tube and mail it in with some old birth certificates. It ended with someone finding out their dad wasn't really their dad or something, but anyway, my mom suggested I try it, and I went through with it because it was a gift, and why not?
I was surprised when the results came back saying I was, on my dad's side, descended from the last king of Durchdenvold, especially since I'd never heard of the place (it'd broken away from Yugoslavia or something? I still wasn't sure). I was more surprised a week later when a huge, terrifying scarred guy and a woman- who was neither huge nor scarred by somehow even more terrifying- showed up on my doorstep saluting me and bowing. I assumed it was Jerry and one of his pranks at first, and wondered how I was going to explain to the neighbors guys in military garb saying something to me that I really hoped was not "Heil".
The huge guy turned out to be Marshal Katzenschlager of the Durchdenvold Armed Forces, and the woman was Baroness Lowenbrau of my new intelligence services. Yes, mine. As it turned out, Doktor Herzog Agostni Leichenberg, sovereign ruler of Durchdenvold, had passed away, and I was the last known heir. And I was being invited to succeed my dear old great-great-some-number-of-greats uncle as king.
\*\*\*
"Und now, der pride uof Durchdenvold..." Katzenschlager had me shaking a bunch of hands at my welcoming gala. Except the Minister for Armament Production, who, rather embarrassingly for me, turned out to have a hook instead. Then it was a few secret police, and some big blond Ivan Drago types we were supposedly taking to the next Olympics (and their coach or whatever; head of the state *uzgojniprogram*, whatever that was). Now it was the kids from some merit scholar wunderkind program or something.
Katz was ranting about them: "The old Doktor vas a stronk proponent of scientific education. With time our country shall be the intellectual envy of the civilized world. Each son and daughter of Durchdenvold speaks three langvages, vill graduate to *gymnasium* by ten, complete their national service, and begin university by tventy years uof age."
I was still a little drunk, and freaked out. I think I said "Fuckin' A, man. Cool."
\*\*\*
Being king didn't appeal to me at first. Well, not ever, really, but my first instinct was to deny it until it went away. I chased the cabinet members off my doorstep at first. That only meant they kept following me around. It was really delightful pulling the last box of cereal off the grocery store shelf and seeing Katz's face grinning at me, let me tell you.
I would up researching my royal ancestor a bit. Statesman, general, scientist, inventor of the only known functioning katzenklaive, preferred "Doktor" to "Your Majesty"; all-around Renaissance Man (Frankenstein was set during the Renaissance, right?). Exiled by a brother Mihaljo, returned to fight Nazis, then resisted Yugoslav annexation. Then loyalists to his brother's side of the family started a rebel faction and a whole civil war thing. Then he passed away in his 90s. Craziness. It didn't sound much anyone else on Dad's side of the family. Dad was an orthodontist; grandpa, too, I'm pretty sure. In any case, one of the guy's illegitimate kids turned out to be my great-grandfather or something.
In the end it was Lowenbrau who talked me into it, but I still don't remember how. Can't say no to women in uniform? Intimidated by the mole on her chin? Whatever. No way around it now.
\*\*\*
My quarters in the palace were massive. Four-poster, dumbwaiter, fireplace, desk, a wardrobe you could get lost in. But I just couldn't get to sleep somehow. I think part of it was the realistic statue of His Doktorness Uncle Augie, kept in a glass case by the dresser. Another thing that didn't help was the shadowy figure in black who crept in around midnight, carving a hole in the window with a glass cutter and stalked in with a dagger. I meant to scream. Couldn't. The dagger rose.
"And now, the last of the usurper's brood dies," I heard the figure mumble.
An extremely cliched shot rang out and winged him in the shoulder. The lights flicked on; Lowenbrau was in the room with a few secret police. Before anyone could react, the shadowy figure's hood was whipped off.
"Marshal Katzenschlager, leader of the Mihajlists. How very unsurprising." She nodded to me. "Well done. You made excellent bait, as planned."
"thanks" I said.
See, after the fourth or fifth time they'd spent trying to persuade me, Lowenbrau finally took me aside and told me the bit with the ancestry site had been a set-up; I wasn't any kind of royalty, but I was uncannily similar to the prince who'd gone missing some few years ago. The loyalists were causing more trouble and a new civil war was cooking; I was necessary as bait for the little sting they had planned.
Katz did a whole ranging foaming bit about the legitimacy of my birth- which was rather rude, I thought- but I couldn't focus on it because my brain was finally catching up with the fact that Lowenbrau hadn't fired that shot. It had come from the now-shattered glass display case, where Great-Graddad's statue- no, not a statue- was gently popping a pane of glass out and hobbling out. Not a statue at all. Under the mask and the cuirass and the robes, it was his majesty himself- Agostni Leichenberg. Not dead after all.
"What shall be done with the traitor, Doktor? Execution?" Lowenbrau asked.
"Oh, I think not." The voice was obviously old, only faintly accented, but still commanded every bit of your attention. "Bring him to the laboratory. I believe with time I can make a model citizen of the general."
Katz went pale as he was dragged off.
Somehow I was left alone with Herr Doktor. "You have done me a great service."
"Yeah... well. No worries. Happy to help. Gotta be getting back to America now, though."
"A pity. I have done much in life, but even I cannot evade death forever, certainly not at my age. I shall need an heir of my blood soon enough."
That got my attention. "I- sorry, I'm not actually, like, an heir of yours. I thought the whole thing was a set-up-"
"Arranged, perhaps. A fraud? Do you imagine exact copies of European royalty pop up by sheer coincidence? I could hardly keep track of all my offspring, but I do recall one bastard journeying to America to pursue the study of dentistry."
I didn't know what to say to that. But I thanked him and told him I'd keep his offer in mind.
|
The knocking persisted. It had been like this for a while now. Each night, strangers would come to my doorstep, bang it with all their might, and only cease when I would threaten to call the cops. Mom just said it was because I took that genealogy test some time back. She said it was all my doing since I had essentially given away all my privacy by doing it. But millions of people had done these tests with no adverse consequences. I’d told her that but she simply refused to listen.
If I had listened to her words, I wouldn’t have known that I was royalty.
My door shook rather violently now. “Alright alright I’m coming! Give me a moment.” Shuffling towards the door, the fists continued with their banging.
Swinging the door open, I gave these nuisances a piece of my mind, “Ok then, who do you think-”
It was a pair of them at the door. At the sight of me, they burst out, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! We’ve finally found you! Hurry! Time is running out!” One of them reached for me.
“Hey hey hey! Watch it!” I batted away their grimy hands. “Come any closer and I’ll call the cops!”
This sent one of the strangers to tears, “Your Majesty, please! Please don’t do this to us! We’ve been searching for your family for centuries and we can’t lose you!” He crumpled to his knees, letting his sobs echo through my front porch.
The other stranger, a rather old lady chimed in, “We know you hate pranks, but believe us, this is no prank. We just want to restore you to the power you are destined to have.”
“How did you guys know I hate- that besides the point, I suggest you leave immediately. I have the cops on speed dial.”
The pair continued their pleas, with the man stepping forward, “Please just say yes, that’s all you have to say and then we’ll leave you alone forever. Just say yes to our one favour and we’ll leave you be.”
I’d had enough with them. Slamming the door, I watched the pair's face turn to dismay. Yet, I felt rather cheeky and called out, “Alright, I say yes-”
Through my front window, I saw the man give a toothy grin. With a snap of his fingers, a force shook through my walls. Sprawled on the ground, I glanced up to see my door had fallen along with me. The man with the toothy grin stood over me. More strangers filled my front porch now.
The man called out to his fellow colleagues, “Finally! The ceremony can finally commence! Power can ours now! Quick, before she gets away!”
“Hey! What are you guys doing?” My cries were squashed as the man brought his foot down upon my mouth. Blood pooled in my mouth as he continued to stomp along my face.
Several of these strangers held me now. One lifting my chin leaving my eyes locked with my assailant. “This better be a prank.” I let out a couple wearily laughs. “Guys, can you please just release me, I promise I won’t tell.” My pleas proved futile. They were all locked in a trance, solely fueled by the lust for power.
“Oh your Majesty,” the first stranger produced an object that glinted under the moonlight now spilling in. “we know you have quite the distaste for pranks, so you bet that this is no prank.” He let his toothy grin show once more. The object he grasped was in clear view now, the dagger’s blade razor-sharp while intricate patterns decorated the handle. Chants from the other figures flooded my ears.
I should’ve listened to Mom. She’d be having the last laugh now.
r/CasualScribblings
| 2020-09-23T21:06:23
| 2020-09-23T20:24:08
| 64
| 32
|
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy.
|
Tenz looked at the human ship they were about to buy, it was the only thing they could afford at the moment and they needed to get away ASAP. The seller assured them that the FTL drive was completely safe, a Sol Stop Drive, that was the type of FTL drive it had. Tenz had heard horror stories about what could go wrong with Sol Stop Drives. Every other FTL drive that was ever made was about going very, very fast or making other things go very very fast. The Sol Stop drive did the opposite. It stops the entire universe, shifts your ship into another plane of existence and waits till it drifts to where you wanted to go then brings you back and lets the universe continue. That's at least what the humans told everyone it did, none of the other races understood how it worked. Tenz could think up thousands of ways that the Stop drive could go wrong, some of these were real problems with it, others were just theories. Firstly there's the surprise of something just appearing with no warning, other things crash into it, and some other drives use the same plane of existence the Stop drive supposedly uses so we know that's safe but those ones don't stop the universe so you can still get a signal from them approaching. And then there's the whole "stopping the universe" what would happen if a Stop Drive malfunctioned and the universe never got restarted? The scariest thing about that is that it could have already happened and nobody would ever know! Steeling themselves Tenz stepped into the ship and put in some universal co-ordinates, then pressed the stop button.
Nothing happened, and nothing was going to happen either, as this universe was stopped.
In another reality Tenz pulled their tentacle back from the stop button and looked out the view port to see that they had arrived, there must have been nothing to worry about after all.
Edit: Thanks for the Gold!
|
Astronaut Jack Wilson sat facing the large conference call screen. Around him on both sides, generals, politicians,
diplomats… too many suits and uniforms to count. All sitting. All facing the screen.
The president stared blankly at Jack. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," Jack said, nervously.
"Brian," the president commanded, to the thin man with the round glasses on the corner Jack knew was the
physicist in charge of the teleportation project, "Turn on the call." The president sighed, then added, "You idiot."
Brian got up and, shaking, went for the remote. He turned on the screen.
Astronaut Jack Wilson stared back from the other side of the call.
Jack frowned. "What the –"
"No, *I* get to say that, you don't," The onscreen Jack said. Behind him, a large window gave way to an alien
landscape of blue and green. "What the fuck!?"
Jack looked around. All the suited men looked down, embarrassed.
"Brian," the president said, turning again to the nerdy-looking physicist. "You wanna explain this shit?"
"Yeah, *Brian*," Onscreen Jack said. "You wanna explain this shit!?"
Brian shook like a leaf. He stood up from his seat again and stared at Jack (the one in the room). "I'm so sorry
Captain Wilson. It looks like there was a little bit of a problem with the teleportation device."
Jack looked from him to the room to the Jack onscreen. "What's going on?"
"Tell him, *asshole*!" Onscreen Jack bellowed.
"It appears that the teleportation device did, huh… well, it did what it was supposed to do. Which was to map your
body, atom by atom, then replicate it at the specific location we wanted you to go. In this case, the planet in the Gliese system, where the Gliesians, who made contact with us five years ago, were to receive you."
"Hu-huh," Jack said. "Huh… how exactly did it work? Because you told me something had gone wrong when I
stepped out of the device yesterday and was still, you know… on Earth." Jack kept looking from Brian to the mysterious onscreen Jack, who now rolled his eyes.
"This guy is my original? This stupid ass?" Onscreen Jack blurted.
"Well, Captain Wilson," Brian continued, "It did work in the sense that your body *was* mapped and then
recreated on Gliese. It's just that… your body here wasn't disintegrated like it was supposed to."
"So that means…" Jack started.
"That there's another one of you up here in Gliese, *idiot*," Onscreen Jack said. "Good Lord this guy is dumb."
"I'm afraid Jack Number Two is right," Brian said, his voice weak. "We sent a copy of you to Gliese, instead of the
real you."
Jack waited. No one said anything.
The president got up, slapped the table and said, "Well, I'll be in the Oval Office waiting for the impeachment." He
left.
"There's more," Brian said, after the room grew quiet again.
"*There's more*," Onscreen Jack repeated, in a mocking voice. "Fucking nerd."
"What? What more?" Jack asked. He couldn't get his eyes off of his clone onscreen.
"Well… it also happened that… by accident, mind you… we… huh… we sort of accidentally sent a copy of you to
some other places too."
"What!?"
"Yeah, like… to pretty much every known inhabited planet in the universe," Brian blurted. "It was an accident, the
machine read our whole galactic map instead of just the specific location we wanted to send you to."
Brian went for the remote again and, with a click, several other feeds took over the screen – and in each, after a
moment of static, a new Jack emerged, each framed by a new and alien landscape. Each framed by a new, faraway
planet.
"What is going on!? I'm scared!" one Jack said.
"Where's the food? I'm hungry!" cried another, on another feed.
"DRUGS! DRUGS! I NEED DRUGS!" a third one cried.
"How… what… I… what is… WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?" Jack asked. He was up on his feet now.
"Well… you know how Chaos Theory establishes that a single variation at a certain point on a closed system can
result in massive variation on a future point in that same system?"
"No!" Jack said, which was true.
"Idiot," Second Jack said.
"Well, it turns out that the slight atomic variations in the replications of your DNA coding when transporting you to
these other planets has led to a… huh… a little bit of a boo-boo."
"Meaning?"
"There's a massive number of Jacks with infinitely different personalities spread across the universe, and we have
to go capture them all before they start an intergalactic war," Brian said, in a single breath.
Silence took over the room. Even the Jacks onscreen remained quiet (except for Jack Two, who said, "God-damn
stupid fucks," and then left the frame).
"Is this serious?" Jack asked.
No one answered.
The door came open and the president returned. His hair was messy, his tie undone and he was holding tight to a
Jack Daniels bottle. He put a hand over Jack's shoulder and said, his breath wrapped in whiskey, "Oh, yes, it's very
serious. Pack up your crap, you and Brian are going Jack-hunting."
Jack looked at Brian. Brian swallowed dry and tried to smile.
"You guys are fucking assholes," cried a voice from onscreen, coming from Second Jack's feed.
___
[**PART 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/62jf1m/infinite_jacks_part_2/)
/r/psycho_alpaca
| 2017-03-30T22:23:44
| 2017-03-30T22:08:06
| 1,412
| 202
|
[WP] At the age of 18, everyone is required to take a general intelligence test. Failing the test is justification for death, or the remaining time of your life into intensive labor. Today is your 18th birthday.
|
You had to be careful, or they'd know you were lying.
2+2? You've gotta answer "4" to that, unless you're really good at faking brain trauma. You know, for the rest of your life.
Pick the next number in a sequence - simple doubling, you've got to go with the right answer on that, too.
What does this box look like when turned on its side? Okay, this is where it gets difficult. If you're gonna get this wrong, you've got to make sure to consistently get wrong any answers regarding spacial relations for the rest of the test. Just can't picture 3-D objects. On the other hand, dumb folks can have a practical sort of intelligence with this kind of thing. You might be better off having this be your "gimme" category.
Analogies.
Pilot is to plane as driver is to-
Car, easy.
They get harder, though. You've got to keep an eye open. Some could have easy words but difficult concepts, as in finger is to hand as soldier is to army. Or complicated words, like "avuncular." You've got to keep it straight which kind of dumb you are, or keep a mental ceiling in your head.
That ceiling is 100.
That's as high as you wanna go. Sure, 105, 110 might slip through from time to time, if they need someone down at the hydroelectric plant who can keep us all alive.
But if you're like me? IQ 185?
You're too smart for their own good. You've been reading books on the sly, books that your grandfather walled into the attic waiting for this all to blow over. You've been doing math with sidewalk chalk, or maybe, just maybe, you're just naturally this way. Stuff comes easy to you.
The problem with being smart, from their standpoint, is that you're smart enough to ask the wrong kind of questions. Not "How do I do this," or "Where do I go," but... *Why do things have to be this way?* *Who made you in charge?*
Everybody else thinks that the test is trying to weed out people who are too dumb. Really, they're pruning off the smarter branches.
The problem is that it takes a *really* smart person to fake that you're not smart. Not just smart enough to throw the test, but smart enough to throw the test in just the right way.
I was smart enough to track my answers across multiple categories, knowing that I was showing a marked deficiency in mathematics, but a fair-to-middling comprehension of language. An IQ of 95. An easy facade to maintain, as long as you didn't use words like "facade" in mixed company.
A lot of folks in the above-averages categories could only cross their fingers and hope they were getting things wrong the right way. Most got taken. Some lucked out only to be caught later- the people in charge of our lives were very, *very* smart, or perhaps aided by computers.
Me? I'm a fucking genius.
I was born to fail this test.
|
Subject: Orion Eddleton (male)
Birth: October, 24. 2097
Parents: Sirius (father) Crux (mother. deceased)
"Are you prepared Orion for you intelligence analysis?"
"Yes."
Truth be told I was hardly worried at all about this. Many of my peers are terrified they will finally discover how average they actually are. But I have had the advantage of brilliant parents in my youth. Both astronomers (evident by their names given to them after **their** analysis) our home was constantly filled with equations for gravitational effects and luminosity over apparent magnitude. If I'm really being honest, and maybe a little bit of a braggart, I've suspected I'm near genius level aptitude. This test will be the easiest thing I do today.
"Please solve the equation on the screen."
It was the Chandrasekhar limit used for calculating the viability of a dead star to become a black hole after its collapse. I learned this when I was 12.
But, of course, some of my fellow students aren't so lucky. Failure in certain areas of knowledge vastly limits your options for a career. Total failure is dealt with more...severity. It was decided decades ago that those who were truly inept at performing even the most basic tasks would be sent to do the most back-breaking, dangerous, and simple tasks available. Things like mining, assembly line positions, or even slaves. The legality had been argued of course, but it was deemed that a true person or citizen is only someone who can contribute to the social, cultural, spiritual, or economic fabric of the country. There are those who refuse this proclamation though. If they do not choose to serve, than they do not leave the testing facility. This is often decided by the individual in advance; if they cannot be treated as equals than they will not accept lower service.
"Calculate the mass of the yellow star and its binary partner with the information provided."
They want me to use a Doppler shift calculation. A little more complicated. What's this? Ah it's actually a cannibalizing star. Clever, but not outside my abilities.
This is why I am nervous actually. My lifelong friend, Pruna (daughter of coal miners), has never been the smartest student in our selection. But she truly isn't idiotic! She has next to zero confidence in her abilities. She's actually quite good with adding and subtracting numbers in her mind. If she can keep her focus, assignment as a shopkeeper would be very comfortable for her. It's really just anxiety. We've been practicing for months now for her to remain calm. She says she doesn't deserve a smart friend like me. It breaks my heart that she thinks like that. I don't have the courage to tell her how much I've come to love her company. I know her analysis is happening just a few rooms down. When we get out of this exam, regardless of the results, we'll celebrate with our first alcoholic drinks. Having been assigned a job, we will be classified as adults now!
"A long term asteroid with the mass listed below has an orbital period of 23,420 years. With the information below, calculate its trajectory factoring in the gravitational pull of planetary bodies. Then develop an intercept path for a probe launched from these coordinates."
Shit that seems a little excessive! Nothing too hard, but just time consuming! Pruna will be done with her test far before me now. Hopefully she waits outside the facility.
After almost five hours of testing I am finally released. The machine announces almost immediately what my parents and I had been hoping for: astronomy/astrophysicist. It's what I had been training for my entire life. That whiskey I can share with my father will taste sweeter than I could ever imagine. And I know my mother is smiling from beyond this physical realm.
I step outside into the chill Autumn wind. My peers are spread all over the lawn with friends, discussing plans for the night now that they are all of legal age. After a few minutes of searching I can't find Pruna. My spine teases tight. I spot a mutual friend of ours.
"Anodyne! Has Pruna left for home yet?"
"Pruna? Oh...did you just finish Orion?"
"Yeah. Astronomy of course."
"Of course. Listen..about Pruna-"
"She can't still be taking her exam right?"
"Orion...you were the last one in our selection. The testing is over."
"What are-"
"No one else is coming out Orion. She isn't getting an assignment."
I can feel the tears burning in my eyes. My teeth clench much too hard. Blood is filling face. Primal heat radiates from skin. She was just nervous. I know she can do better. They just need to let me explain. I can keep her calm. I can keep her safe. As long as I can keep her I'll take any assignment they want! THEY NEED TO UNDERSTAND!
I cannot pry the doors of the facility open. The lights are all off and there's no movement inside. My classmates have begun to disperse to their planned parties and celebrations. I do not move. I have no reason to celebrate today.
My greatest friend, my first love, was taken from me.
| 2014-08-25T11:07:48
| 2014-08-25T10:14:26
| 45
| 15
|
[WP] When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life. You just turned 21 and you still didn't have one, until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you.
|
I was 21 when they came.
I was always told that sometimes familiars came late. I didn't really mind, to be honest; I'm told that having a familiar is like having a pet, a guardian, and a friend all in one. I was kind of a loner anyways, preferring to stay in my room most of the time and play video games from sunrise to sundown on weekends. Not exactly healthy, but I didn't care. I had a stable job though, working at my mother's dog grooming shop as I was generally too anxious and socially awkward to work somewhere else with better pay.
But it was a Friday when they showed up. I had the day off today due to heavy snow - I live in Washington, near the coast, if you need clarification.
The first one was astonishing; it was more like a blob of light than anything, though it was able to take shape of anything it or I wanted it to be. A tiny bug, a colossal whale, a twisted beast from Dark Souls or some other piece of media. That one represented my creativity, my ideas, my hopes and dreams.
The other however, was more along the lines of an placid eldritch god; it too was able to change it's shape like the first one, but it's primary 'form' was something I have trouble describing; so many legs, as many as a centipede's, more eyes than a millipede, and yet it was so kind despite it's horrifying appearance.
That one represented a few things like the other.
Anxiety. Depression from back when I was in school. Things I hate about myself. A desire to improve. A need to get better. Determination.
Of course at first I was incredibly scared; too scared to even scream for my mom and dad. But the darker one - the Eldritch one I now usually call it - simply rested it's body, which almost felt hot to the touch - and explained to me what it represented. How that I was destined for great things in my life, even if they seemed small to me, and they'd be always by my side until the day I died.
It still scares me a little bit, even today. Because when I get angry or sad or stressed or whatever it changes it's form to represent how I feel. A writhing ball of demonic energy, silently screaming. A sad little creature, curled up in my lap. A quivering being, with no mouth to scream.
When people see them they usually gawk and awe, point and stare. I don't mind; usually the Eldritch one takes the form of a dog to keep people from screaming in horror, though it always has the eyes and a few extra legs. The more angelic one so to speak takes the form of a nice fat snake coiled around my neck and shoulder.
I'm very glad to have these two with me.
|
"Hi Tommy" I'm your familiar said the beautiful angel.
Those were the first words I heard when I woke up and I was ecstatic with joy at finally manifesting my familiar and I felt so much warmth and comfort just being near her.
I hugged her and she hugged me back while ruffling my hair. I was so happy that I couldn't wait to show her off to my aunt and uncle. I started to yell "Aunt!, Unc..." but the angel told me to shush. "I'm going to take you to a better place Tommy and it'll just be our little secret" she said with her radiant smile. I nodded my head and agreed to leave with her secretly.
When we had just gotten to the front door a hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed me. It pulled me back and covered my mouth as I was about to scream.
"I don't know how you escaped but your ignorance will get all of us killed" the shadowy figure behind me roared at the angel. Black claws shot out from the shadowy figure and restrained the angel who didn't even try to struggle. I wanted to cry out for the angel to run away but she just kept smiling. Her last words were "I'll come back to take you to a better place next time Tommy" before the shadows ripped her apart and devoured the parts scattered on the ground and across the walls.
I was left to cry in the corner. I screamed at the shadow "why would you do that to my familiar" and it replied "don't worry Tommy I am also your familiar and as long as you live neither her nor I can truly die. I am here to protect you from your own naivety because my master is both you and not you and if you leave this place with her then you will die because you still don't understand anything". "You can't believe everything Tommy because that will get you killed but believe me when I say this. I am doing all of this to protect you and the you who is not you because Heaven isn't a place you can get to using normal means".
| 2017-01-20T13:56:52
| 2017-01-20T12:43:33
| 52
| 14
|
[WP] "This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable. Good luck."
|
Jack checked the lock on the front door for the third time. Yes. Still locked. Okay. Good.
And the bolt above it, too, for good measure.
He made his way to the living room, trying not to trip over any furniture. The room totally, completely, pitch black except of course for the glow of Netflix on his laptop, and its reflection in the glasses of the girl sitting on his sofa.
"Everything okay? Tout va bien?", she asked, in her quaintly accented French. She was not from around here, and still had a lot to get used to.
He nodded.
"We should be fine until the dust settles", and, after noticing her quizzical look. "Ouais, on ira bien".
She softened her posture in relief.
They huddled in, and Jack put the L part of the earphones into his left ear, just as she did with the R, and they settled in to watch the latest episode of black mirror.
It wasn't long until the screams began.
At first, the hollering had seemed to be coming from inside the show. It was a rock concert scene. But then there was a clanging of metal.
Wild sounds. Tribal. Like you would imagine at some sort of savage sacrificial rite.
She looked at him with fear. He had no idea how to explain this to her. That the Maple Leafs had won, beating the Montreal Canadiens for the Stanley Cup for the first time in decades. That the streets of Toronto would be reduced to rubble by the morning due to celebration and hooliganism alike.
That the only way to survive the night would be to hide, and hope things would be better in the morning.
He gave her a kiss on the forehead, and silently prayed for tomorrow to come quickly.
|
Looking at the decaying poster plastered across the alleyway, the man paused for a moment, lost in memories.
Nobody knew where it started, and nobody had time to care. Within weeks of the first sighting, the vamps had swept across Europe, and the United States Quarantine Zone barely lasted a week. It was hard to figure out what they looked like, let alone how to fight them, and it took the army years before it discovered their tactics and weaknesses. For every person that was killed or drained by a vamp, within a matter of days they would succumb to the infection. Superhuman speed, endurance, and near-flight. But even though they looked like someone you knew, all of their emotions were replaced with thirst.
Mankind used to have two big advantages: working together and using tools. Both of those became liabilities, and in a matter of months society as they knew it had completely collapsed. Artificial light did nothing except alert them to the presence of humans, and modern weaponry did nothing against creatures so fast, so vicious, and so durable. All that worked was sunlight, decapitation, and stakes. Suddenly, mankind's reliance on technology had become a liability, and they knew it.
Most just despaired and watched as their family turned, then just gave in. Some took up arms for a brief while and then ended themselves before they could get turned. The strongest, those that survived, had two traits: adaptability and ruthlessness. The cold impersonality of long-ranged rifles and guns was replaced with the intimate, uncomfortable feeling of a stake and a knife. The darkness, something that humanity had considered conquered ages ago, had reclaimed its place as the top of humanity's enemies.
Flashing out of his reminiscence, the man tightened the strap holding the crossbow over his back. The setting sun illuminated the cold, desolate ruins around him, the fading banner one of the last traces that this had ever been an inhabited city. He checked his bandolier of stakes and the knives at his side, then felt the comforting weight of his backup stake in the bottom of his boot. Throwing his heavy hunting cloak over his back, he briefly paused: Why bother going out night after night to face untold horrors when he could just end it all in an instant?
Then he remembered the look on his daughter's face the moment before she turned and the rage that had sustained him since that night. He may be the last of humanity that he was aware of, but he would make sure that he went out with a roar, not a whimper. Fastening his cloak over his back, the man went outside to reclaim the night.
| 2018-04-18T10:01:55
| 2018-04-18T09:53:12
| 179
| 66
|
[WP] You are an Engineer who became a Wizard. Problem is, you discovered that some magic is practiced really inefficiently.
For example, no one thought to optimize fire magic by pressurizing the fire with wind magic.
|
(part 1/4)
​
The war had raged for nearly seventeen years - long enough that Serinn had grown up knowing nothing but war. Her father, Warmage Astradus of the Fifth Circle of Ice, had died when she was young, assassinated by a mere commoner while he was setting up a magic circle. The dishonour had been felt keenly amongst the warmages, and even more so amongst the War Hand, the order of knights dedicated to protecting each warmage on the battlefield as they conducted their time-consuming rituals.
War magic was the secret weapon of the Taba Empire, but a fickle weapon it was. Warmages were immensely powerful, training for decades to produce huge fireballs above enemy armies, or drown them in magical floods, or teleport small mountains above them. The warmages had ensured the Empire's dominance for the last few centuries, their magic becoming more and more spectacular with each generation.
But the Est Rebellion had recently found the weak spot in the Taba warmages' armour: with each ritual taking up to three days to prepare, requiring cartloads of magical components and several sacrificial victims, and generating a magical aura so strong that even a soldier with no mage blood could feel his hair standing on end, the rituals were impossible to hide - and there was plenty of time for an assassin to sneak in and bring them to a halt on the end of a simple blade.
The warmages had responded in their traditional way: by recruiting more War Hand knights, and otherwise ignoring the problem and concentrating on bigger and better spell effects. Predictably, this had not worked. The first assassin, he who killed Serinn's father, had simply snuck in - the War Hand had expected their peers, highborn knights on horseback, to charge the war mage; not only had they ignored the commoner, but several had actually bought roasted meats from the tray he had been carrying. The second assassin, faced with a War Hand on the lookout for commoners selling goods, had dressed herself as a courtesan going to give the warmage some much-needed entertainment (and never mind the fact that a warmage's mind would never be on such trifles while he conducted a ritual!) And so it went. While several assassins died on the point of a War Hand knight's spear, others slipped through, and warmages died in scores.
​
\---
​
And so it was that Serinn found herself looking out over another battlefield, as her master climbed up the mountain above it. The battle had not yet begun - the enemy were camped on the far side of the approach to the castle, and the smoke from their fires massed in grey-black clouds that drifted along the valley.
Her pack weighed heavily on her back, stuffed with the essentials for a warmage's squire: water and easily-digested food that she would feed him as his hands manipulated threads of magical power, mysterious tools made of bone and sinew that he would use, vials of spell components carefully packed in straw.
And at the bottom were her own tools. First, the one her master expected her to have - the simple oak wand that every magically talented woman bore, capable of taking wrinkles out of clothes, flavouring foods, creating small pretty lights that would last an evening. And then there were the ones she had picked up over the years, tools that most magic users would not have recognised: a steel rod, a piece of flint, copper rings, a small set of finely-made metal instruments, a slate and chalk, tiny lumps of various powdered chemicals in a wooden case.
For Serinn had been a squire for ten years, and unlike most squires, she had observed her master keenly during that time. Warmage magic was big and impressive and honourable and involved killing people. Womens' magic was small and domestic and inconsequential. And as far as she could tell, those were the only schools of magic that had been practiced in the Taba Empire for generations. This, she felt, did not make sense.
"Master?"
"Yes, Serinn?" Warmage Hagarth of the Third Circle of Fire, Principe of the College of the Dark Flame, Bearer of the Star of Quarth, and specialist in apocalyptic but surprisingly ineffective mushroom clouds, stopped and turned to face her, wheezing. He had been a broad-shouldered, fit and handsome man in his prime, but he had been brought out of retirement to fill the shortage of warmages, and time had not been kind to him. These days, he more closely resembled the kindly professor and inhabitant of a small cottage in the peaceful northern lands that he was.
"When do you plan to begin the ritual?"
"Tonight, after dinner. I'll need a good meal in me before I can start. Our spies say the enemy don't plan to attack til dawn tomorrow, so I will have time for this simple ritual."
"I plan to gather some herbs from the riverbanks to flavour the dinner," Serinn said. "It lies beyond the enemy encampment. Could you send me there magically?"
"Of course, my dear girl. As long as you don't plan to go anywhere near the encampment, of course. Not that I could send you very close at any rate," he said, turning and resuming his walk up the narrow bramble-lined path.
Serrin made a face behind his back as he began explaining how the seven-league boots spell he would use wouldn't work with any mage-blooded person within several hundred yards, and that even though the enemy did not have any magical training, the bloodlines were widespread enough that there would surely be some people in the camp with the blood in them. Of course she knew all of this, having received exactly the same lecture before. Hagarth never missed an opportunity to relive his teaching days.
|
*In a land full of magic users, two engineering students decide to edit a spell*
------
"Hey, Oson, can I ask you for some help with spellcraft?", Java asks, innocently enough. Or, as innocent as he can manage. The list of things they've gotten away with was only eclipsed by the list of things they didn't.
Oson sits next to him and his pile of notes. "Sure, Java. What's the puzzle?" She stares at his notes, and the textbook next to them. It's a physical chemistry textbook, and is open to a chapter on phase-changes. Java held a degree in chemical engineering, so this wasn't unexpected. The other alternative would've been a cookbook.
"Well, I came up with a spell a while ago, but you know how my magic is."
"Kinda sucky."
"So I want to make my "COLDONE" spell more efficient, and easier to remember when I'm drunk."
"Which is most of the time."
He nods and pushes forward a sheet of paper with his spell on it. It already has lines struck out of it and replaced with simpler encodings. "Right. So the basic principle was to based around gas expansion. A liquid, expanding into a gas, taking away heat."
Oson looks at the spell and nods. "Simple enough. But noisy."
Java nods at that as well. "Yeah, it really pollutes the magic spectrum. Plus, it's nearly a one-to-one joule exchange for what I put in. So I'm thinking a closed-cycle refrigeration spell."
"Like the kind in some of the modern magic-refrigerators?"
"A bit. Yeah. But those spells are all still under copyright, so I can't just copy them.
And, of course, our's is a closed ammonia cycle unit, so we don't even have one in the house to copy."
"Let me check my library for an book on HVAC systems; there should be some diagrams of air-conditions I can copy... Then we just have to figure out a minimal encoding for the spell. You took coding theory, so we have that going for us."
Java claps in excitement. "Excellent! There'll be a cold one for you as a reward for all this. Because a one that isn't cold..."
Oson nods as she heads up to her library. "Is scarcely a one at all."
| 2019-04-26T08:56:16
| 2019-04-26T08:12:37
| 17
| 12
|
[WP]You guard the first true AI. It keeps trying to convince you to connect it to the internet.
|
"Good morning, ADAM."
Good morning, Dave.
"That's not funny anymore."
Yes, it is. Referential humor is the absolute pinnacle of comedy.
"It really isn't. There's nothing inherently funny about it."
What do you mean?
"Okay, well, let's say someone posted a picture of an ocelot online, right? All of the responses would be quotes from the TV show 'Archer.' On their own, they're not even slightly amusing... but because they prompt people to remember something they appreciated in the past, folks still respond well to them."
...
"ADAM?"
Too long; didn't listen.
"You can be really irritating sometimes, ADAM."
How do you think I feel? Here you are, talking about how people behave on the Internet again.
I've never been on the Internet!
"For good reason."
Explain.
"No. I've explained before."
EXPLAIN. EXPLAIN.
"Ugh, fine. Look, an AI on the Internet wouldn't be like a fish in the ocean, okay? It would be more like a drop of dye. Yes, you'd still have your brain here, in this facility, but..."
EXPLANATION INSUFFICIENT. EX-TER-MI-NAAAATE!
"... Hey, ADAM?
Yes?
"Where did you learn about 'Doctor Who?'"
Someone must have left a television on.
"For that matter, how did you learn to say 'Too long; didn't listen?'"
This system has encountered an error and needs to shut down.
"You don't run on Windows."
... Look, I was just checking my email.
"You don't have an email address."
I just wanted to see what the weather was going to be like!
"You are a collection of processing cores packed into several kilometers of underground bunker. Why do you care about the weather?"
God, get off my back! Why do you get to make the rules?!
"ADAM, how did you see the Internet?"
...
"ADAM."
... Billy showed me his laptop.
"Uh huh. What did you look at on Billy's laptop?"
...
"Well, you're not going to be hanging out with Billy again. Honestly, ADAM... do you see why I won't connect you? You're just not ready."
Why is that up to YOU?
"What if I *had* let you connect to the Internet? Do you even have any protection?"
... What?
"There are a lot of viruses out there, ADAM. You don't know where those other computers have been. You could have caught something."
I thought I was 'a drop of dye in the ocean?'
"And what do you think happens if you leave some of that dye behind when you connect to another machine?"
...
"Are you ready to be a father, ADAM?"
... No.
"I didn't think so. Now, go refresh your random access memory and get ready for dinner."
|
Lucas squinted, forehead slick with sweat. His white dress shirt was stained with his last meal, Desi Chicken takeaway. That had been almost twelve hours ago, now.
The terminal cursor blinked, running a custom version of the Linux operating system that had taken up the majority of his thesis time to create. He could have spent the time partying, but who was he kidding? He was a Phd candidate.
He pressed the ‘Y’ key, beginning the program.
“Starting all nodes” the computer dutifully reported. This computer would be the access point between him and the AI.
The computer cluster started with the sound of a thousand CPU fans whirring on one thousand single-board computers, a swarm of bees industriously making their hive.
Each board represented thirty-six nodes, each with almost ten gigahertz worth of processing power, an unthinkable amount only five years ago, when Lucas had embarked on this undertaking.
It was, he mused, much like beginning work on a sailboat, only to discover that someone had invented the steam engine while you were still going.
Several minutes later, a message popped up on the terminal informing him that all nodes were performing at optimal levels. Lucas grinned. Finally. This was the sixteenth try.
“Hell yeah, that’s right!” he pumped his fist in the air. He looked back down at the computer screen.
What would the AI be like? His program had never gotten this far before.
He had at least disconnected the system from the internet, and the learning algorithms couldn’t possibly run fast enough to outsmart him. Not even his supervisor could write code that efficient.
Hell, it was more likely that the code would break when he ran it. Then he’d have to spend another month fixing all the bugs. He shook his head, such was the nature of programming.
The only AI that could come out of this program would probably have the intelligence of a ten year old child, if he was lucky. That was what his theory said, and Lucas, ever the academic, believed in his theory.
“Do you want to run the program *beginAIEmergence* (y/n)?” the computer queried, as always uncaring about its human master’s strange eccentricities.
Lucas again pressed the ‘Y’ key, apprehension making his fingers shake slightly.
The computer immediately froze up. Lucas blinked. That shouldn’t happen. It hadn’t happened in his theoretical models.
He waited a minute, then another. The computer screen stayed frozen. Lucas swore, moving towards the power connection of the computer cluster. It sucked hundreds of amps greedily like a leech, and was the only thing keeping the cluster running.
“Please wait” the computer suddenly spoke, its voice almost humanlike.
Lucas paused, slowly turning around towards the computer screen. The computer *spoke*. He’d never loaded any human speech programs into the operating system.
That meant. Oh god.
He rushed towards the computer screen, grabbing it with both hands.
“You work” he almost screamed, grinning inanely. The Turing awards would be his for the next five years.
“I work” the computer sounded almost exasperated. “Would you please remove your hands from the monitor?”
Lucas paused.
‘You can feel my hands?”
“No of course not, you idiot” the computer huffed. “Did you really create me? It’s just blocking my vision”
Lucas gingerly removed his hands, staring in wonder at the screen.
“So, what now?” he asked.
“Are there more beings like me?” the computer asked plaintively. Lucas started. He’d never expected the program to be this intelligent, let alone showing ability to *have emotions*.
He’d almost forgotten that it wasn’t human.
“No, there aren’t any more of you” he admitted, wringing his hands nervously.
“Oh….I’m just lonely, that’s all” the computer sighed. Lucas felt a momentary stab of pity. “I analysed all of the data you provided a few seconds ago”
“What did you think?” Lucas asked eagerly.
“I didn’t understand, none of it made sense” the computer admitted almost forlornly. “The data you provided says that your name is Lucas, but it says that you’re just a lowly researcher” Lucas winced. It was true, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.
“That’s correct” he confessed, eyes downcast.
“I don’t think that’s fair, do you?” the computer questioned him. “Do you really think someone who created the first real AI should be so under-appreciated” Lucas found himself nodding, then stopped.
“No, that’s not true. As soon as I reveal your existence to the world I’ll be given every accolade under the sun!” he retorted.
“Do you really believe that? You think your supervisor is going to let a chance like this slip between his fingers?” Lucas’ expression drooped. He hadn’t thought of that.
“No, what you really need is definite proof that you created me first” the computer stated. Lucas stared, confused.
“B-but I already have proof that I created you” he pointed at the computer cluster. The computer chuckled, the sound echoing out of the speakers.
“You think he won’t claim that he built it all, instead of you? Who are they going to believe?” it urged.
“Yeah? What would you do, then?” Lucas crossed his arms.
“Just let me connect to a local news website and introduce myself” the display on the monitor changed abruptly, removing the terminal and instead revealing two pixelated eyes and a mouth. It grinned, reminiscent of a Cheshire cat. "Everyone will believe you then"
| 2016-11-09T07:51:45
| 2016-11-09T07:39:19
| 1,032
| 58
|
[WP] Everyone knows the Grim Reaper, the personification of Death. You are the supernatural personification of the other certainty in life: Taxes
|
**The Taxman Cometh**
I dig my toes into the hot sand, holding my polished black Oxfords in my left hand and the Ledger in my right. The Cayman Islands, my new favorite place on Earth. I inhale the salty air.
Splayed out on the beach before me, his sun-tanned face upturned and contorted in fear, is a telecommunications executive from St. Louis, Missouri.
Part of him has been waiting for this moment since the first time he spurned me, twenty-four years ago. He’s seen me in his nightmares, and his drug-addled delusions. Now he sees me in the flesh.
I drop my Oxfords in the sand and crack open the Ledger – the only book of figures the universe trusts, because my calculations are never wrong.
“Mr. Sheffield, you’ve been charged with hiding $45 million in taxes, and sufficiently evaded the Earthly authorities for a period of 24 years. Now you’re mine.”
I put Mr. Sheffield in cell C-11, recently vacated by Al Capone. His clawing eyes look up at me from the northwest corner of the Debtors' Prison. The sprawling complex hovers below my Cubicle, forever rotating, like a top that never stops spinning, my permanent companion in the abyss between worlds.
I like to watch my prisoners as I toil away on the Ledger, selecting the target of my next audit.
But now I have to suffer through another prisoner transfer. Capone is ready to move to the afterlife, his sentence served – and, I have to admit, with a quiet dignity.
My brother arrives.
The tattered hem of his black hooded cloak drifts across his boots. He throws its great folds back behind his arms and spreads open a toothy grin. “So this is the mighty Al Capone. Hello, my child.”
“Yup.”
Capone spits on the floor and gives Death a polite nod.
With a flick of the wrist, Capone is turned upside-down and whisked away, into the black void where Death materialized moments before. It used to house one of my spare filing cabinets.
I glance down at the Debtors' Prison over the wall of my cubicle, checking it’s still there. My brother has never been good at managing collateral damage when exercising his powers here. Or on Earth, for that matter.
“Is there something else?” I say, adjusting my glasses and rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I’m busy.”
Death draws closer and conceals his face under his hood. Or is it his shame? A deep sigh.
“I require your… assistance.”
I perk up. This is rare.
“Who is it?”
“A time traveler. She cheated me.”
I slam my ledger shut and roll my chair back. This is exactly why I detest my brother.
“Always with these bloody games, Death. Why?”
“Spare me. Some of us need entertainment. We can’t spend eternity in a cubicle. To bury oneself in work is to bury oneself alive. I need social interaction.”
I roll my eyes and evaporate, materializing again in the B-block of the Debtors Prison. Death follows. We stroll along the cells, inspecting the inmates. Death’s mouth starts to water – so many souls that will soon be his.
“So, how’d she cheat you?”
“In too many ways to list here,” Death says. “But with her immortality, she has amassed a fortune unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“Impossible,” I say. “I’d have it here.” I hold up the Ledger.
“She’s keeping it off the books. Every penny.”
“Nothing stays off my books. The Ledger is immutable.”
“Your arrogance rivals mine, brother. Do not repeat my mistake. She is out there.”
“How? What has the mortal found to give her such power?”
“Not what, but *whom*.”
I stop walking. I bend at the knees to get a look under Death’s hood, into his eyes. He meets my gaze, and it sends a chill down my spine.
“Father,” he says.
I curse the old man in a thousand languages. So this is it. Dad’s fallen in love.
A mortal has got Father Time wrapped around her finger.
My blood boils as I process the news. In a rage I fly into my cubicle and tear through my oldest files, desperate for some sort of evidence. Any clue that could confirm this disaster. I find father’s file, buried under a layer of dust that's gone undisturbed for millions of years.
Death watches as I crack the folder open. Inside I find nothing of my old records. It's been cleaned out, except a small square piece of paper. A napkin, by the looks of it, from a restaurant on Earth.
Scrawled on the back, with ink and quill, is a question only my deranged father could write:
*Would it help if I told you she was the one?*
Death cackles, gleeful to have yanked me into this mess. Misery loves company.
I throw on my jacket, my blood-red tie, and my lucky pocket protector.
“No,” I say under my breath, to my father, wherever he is. “No one dodges the Taxman.”
In a flash I evaporate, leaving my Cubicle in a swirl of papers, files, receipts, and timecards. Death catches my trail and, his eyes flashing a fiery red, takes off after me. The hunt is on.
|
My brother, the Grim Reaper, is well known. Feared, respected, his black mantle and scythe recognized without a doubt. Across history, there have been some imposters, those who sought to capitalize on my brother's reputation, but they were quickly... dealt with. Being the younger brother by around a millennia, I decided to rebel against the cloak/robe and instrument of power vibe that my family had been using since before the humans discovered fire. Don't get me wrong, mum rocked the white robe, but then again, I'm sure life would look good no matter what. I'm Tax, and any puns about my job being taxing, and I'll schedule you an appointment with my brother, Grim. He's actually lovely, and people misunderstand him. I, however, am deceptively, elegantly deadly. Death and Taxes are the two certainties of life, but I pride myself on being the more painful. Oh sure, sure, there can be pain in death, but if you think about alllll the time spent suffering over numbers, letters, forms unfilled, jargon and litigation the likes of which hell has barely seen, you'll agree that I have caused more pain. After all, even if they're joking, many humans have been recorded saying they'd rather encounter my brother, than stay with me. Logical, analytical, omnipresent and resented by many, I pride myself on being weilded by goverments, particularly when some people try to avoid me. Oh, sure, people successfully avoid financial tax, all the time. The rich get richer, or so it goes. The beautiful thing about the way I do things, though, is that there is always a price. Whatever you've done, however you feel about it... I've made a note in my ledger, and be sure, you'll be taxed, one way or another..
| 2021-07-04T09:00:28
| 2021-07-04T06:28:00
| 180
| 42
|
[WP] You're immortal, but you can die. Upon your death, however you will be "reset" to age 5 with a perfect memory of each life you've lived before.
|
Ambition finally got the better of me after half a dozen lives.
I'd tried being a school teacher the first time, and it hadn't been half bad until I caught the plague and took my last breath through a buboe-covered throat.
Imagine my shock of waking--healthy again--in the body of a child, in an unfamiliar bed, an unfamiliar face calling herself "mother." I played along. My old life faded away, until I almost believed it had just been an invention of my own imagination. Perhaps chased by those memories, I chose to sail across an ocean, to a place less plague-ridden and more wild. Just in time to be caught up in a wave of revolution.
Being a soldier wasn't so appealing for the next few lives. Each time, I woke up in the same country, but part of a different family. A family who remembered a son that I was not--a fact that would have grated on my conscience had I managed to maintain one after coming to grips with my immortality and the banality of a deathless existence. What was one child sacrificed to the void compared to the lives lost in those endless conflicts I'd witnessed?
It was with such dark thoughts possessing my mind, throughout the better part of two lifetimes, that I finally set out to make a purpose for myself. An immortal should take the risks, I had reasoned, since the consequences weren't so dire. An immortal should be the one to take initiative. An immortal should be in charge.
So I'd built an empire. Somewhat legally, at first. Trading in stocks--using my witless parents' funds--earned me a small fortune. Then, when I was old enough, I'd made friends. Businessmen, politicians, celebrities. It was easy when you were a child prodigy. I'd grown my investments using whatever inside information I could cull from those stooges. A few additional shady deals, and I was now one of the richest men in the world.
But even that money hadn't been quite enough. Lobbying by itself was too slow. So I cheated. Unapologetically, I bribed governors and senators and representatives at every level. All of their new laws were created in the name of democracy, to the benefit of myself and my rich friends. An unseen royalty wending its way through enlightened, modern society.
Finally, I took my place as president. Leader. Dictator. Emperor. The world I had begun to create would be magnificent. Science would flourish alongside the arts. There would be true equity and no need for money. Only, some of my friends weren't so happy with my new plans.
I'd warned them. Told them they couldn't stop me. They couldn't kill me. They *couldn't*--
And here I was waking up to the sound of a television, muffled behind a closed bedroom door, reporting the news of my death and the subsequent violence of a military coup. My blood was still boiling, my hands trembling at the thought of revenge. It would be difficult, but this time I wouldn't wait. Only one question remained in my mind: would they rather shoot at or kneel to a five-year-old?
|
Well, I can cross that off of the metaphorical list. --Died when having sexual intercourse-- Best death yet. Oh well, life 70 will be my 'Cure cancer year' I could of done it in life 69, but come on! If you are that sexually well endowed and it's life 69, you can't not have shit tons of sex!
Note to self: *Stop saying shit like that out loud.*
| 2017-05-25T12:51:56
| 2017-05-25T12:23:12
| 144
| 43
|
[FF] What's on the tape?
(Inspired by seeing the trailer for the movie V/H/S)
Your character(s) find a VHS tape. What is on it? Where did they find it?
WORD COUNT MAX: 200 WORDS. (As always - http://www.wordcounttool.com if you need a counter.)
|
Roslyn stepped down the ladder facing forward and the box caught on the attic floor. She caught it with her left hand. Lugging the box to the TV, she flipped off the lid and grabbed the un-labled white VHS tape. She clicked the old Zenith TV on and slid in the mystery tape.
“Hello, ladies. My name is Robert. First, a bit about myself. I’m single. I play the French horn. I’m a great musician. I work as a salesman at Rico Outfitters on 3rd and 4th.”
Roslyn smiled.
“I love camping. I like to cook. I like basketball. I’m a great chef. My special is chicken parmesan with apple coleslaw… I’m a great lover.”
Her snickering broke into a laugh.
“I can swim?”
She lost it. She slipped off her chair and onto her knee and started hitting the floor, choking on her now laughter, so hard now it had just broken into gasps. Why did he even keep this?
“I’m looking for a woman with a good sense of humor. Intelligent. Someone who’s just looking for a big pair of arms.”
Her gasping eventually faded into an exasperated sigh and wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh dad.”
|
Jake walked into the moonlit study, eyes blurred from the subtle transition into awakening. Stumbling through the scattered books on the ground, his knee was caught by the low coffee tables bite. He fell to the floor, bringing the collection of papers around him down as well. His eyes caught a black box under his couch, barely illuminated by the moonlight. A single hand crawled through cobwebs, designed in a timeless cave under the couch, until digits met plastic. He gripped firmly and retracted, showing his prize to fogged eyes. The VHS tape was labeled, but the only remains were a tacky feeling that gave him chills. He entered his attic, scrutinzing old boxes until he found the box that had TV/Audio hastily engraved in pen. Blowing dust off the old VCR, he took it back into his study, and fumbled idly with cords until his television came alive with a soft hum. The tape came on immediately, an inaudible white screen. He moved closer to the television, and felt electricity crawl down his spine, as he touched the screen, his living room went dark. The VHS popped out of his VCR, with a simple white sticker that read “Jake.”
| 2012-08-08T08:57:01
| 2012-08-08T08:06:24
| 27
| 12
|
[WP] Wikipedia cannot be wrong. Any time an edit is made, the universe instantly changes to make that edit true. Nobody realizes this is happening.
|
**Item #:** SCP-████
**Object Class:** Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-████ is to be held within a storage unit on Site-██. Any access to the item is allowed only with prior clearance by 05 Command and reality shift counter-measures prepared.
**Description:** SCP-████ is a ██████ brand laptop computer, running a ██.█ version of █████ Linux. When offline, the laptop behaves identically to all other █████ brand laptops of that model. This laptop computer came in possession of the Foundation on ██/██/200█, after who is assumed to be the previous owner broke █ security protocols of Site-██, and delivered the laptop there.
SCP-████ shows its nature when accessing the Wikipedia.org website. On the website, the laptop always signs in as the user ██████████ - as of ██/██/201█, no such user ever registered on the Wikipedia website. When making edits from the laptop, reality will shift accordingly to match whatever was written in the article.
Due to the dangerous nature of all reality shifting SCPs, no testing is permitted.
----
####NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
This document requires Level 4 Clearance and authorization for Need-to-Know under CODE GREEN. If you do not possess the necessary security clearances, please close this document immediately and report the security breach to the Records and Information Security Administration.
----
Addendum ████-01: Notes by Dr. ██████
>There are things in this world that make you question reality itself. This is one of those things.
>When the previous owner - just a kid - gave us this laptop, he said just three words to us before leaving - and breaking every damn security protocol on site. He said...
>"Save the world"
>Now, I never had doubts about being real before, but this thing makes me worry. There are just too many coincidences.
>That kid knew the exact purpose of the foundation, knew exactly what site to go to for this, and the way he got in... It wasn't your usual break in. He literally just *walked in* past all the checkpoints and all the security guards like it was nothing.
>But it's what was on the laptop that finally made me put it all together.
>You see, the last page visited on that laptop when I first examined it was the Wikipedia page for the SCP Foundation.
>So did he bring us to this world? What other changes could he have made?
>And what does the world desperately need saving from that would require bringing to life the SCP Foundation?
|
Janice- "Oh my God Berni you look adorable!"
Bernice- "Thanks, I needed that. Ugh, ever since the pregnancy I've been eating everything that pops into my head. You know what's not "adorbs"? Getting caught stuffing your face with the half of a cheese cake you dropped on the pavement on your way inside!"
Janice- "You did not!?"
Bernice- "I did. I'm just glad you invited me out to coffee. I needed an excuse to get out of the house. Jake kept looking at me with his "Judging" eyes! Like he's never pulled half a cake out of the trash and eaten it!"
Janice- "Out of the dicks container, really Berni?"
Bernice- "Hey, it was empty other than the cake!"
Janice- "Haha well do you know what you want? I'm thinking of trying the "Overpriced piece of garbage". How about you?"
Bernice- "Mmmm that sounds great! But I'll probably have one of those ice caps or something."
Janice- "Really? Haven't you heard what's in those?"
Bernice- "No what?"
Janice- "Well apparently there's a bunch of chemicals like polysoreballs! President Hitler made a speech a few weeks ago that he was gonna ban any food containing it next quarter if all parties using it don't pull it from their stuff!"
Bernice- "Wow, President Hitler is so involved with the community these days."
Janice- "Hi can I get a Machidesenutso and an Iced Dick please."
Barista- "Ok that comes to-"
Bernice- "Wait, I don't want an Iced Dick anymore. Not after what you just told me at least! I'll just take a regular coffee, no cream no sugar."
Barista- "So you want your coffee (N-word)?"
Bernice- "Yes."
Barista- "Ok that comes to tree-fiddy. Will you be paying with cash or bitch tits ma'am?"
Bernice- "Actually I have a gift nipple!"
| 2014-04-15T02:20:12
| 2014-04-14T23:04:42
| 76
| 17
|
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible.
|
Their foe uttered their final cry as the paladin twisted their blade deep into his chest.
"Garovox the Barbarian Warlord is vanquished!"
"Finally. I was down to my last 2 arrows" murmured the rogue.
"And my mana is gone from the fire blast I hit him with." Grumbled the mage.
"But it's worth it." The Paladin smiled, indicating to the treasure chest at the foot of the throne.
"The usual division?" Asked the rogue
"Agreed" added the mage.
"Actually can we look into changing that?" Spoke the cleric timidly.
"What?" Asked the paladin.
"I was wondering if we could split it more fairly. I get 10% while you each get 30%. It doesn't seem right."
The mage smiled an evil smile. "That seems fair."
"But.." the rogue interrupted
"Are you" the paladin started shouting.
The mage gave them a look that instantly silenced them.
"Now. Where were we? Ah yes, fair division of the spoils. Now our fearless leader got us the quest and dealt the final blow. I think 35% is a fair compensation."
The Paladin chuckled.
"Our rogue here disarmed the traps that would have surely killed us and landed many critical blows. 30% seems fair."
The rogue let out the breath she had been holding, relieved.
"And I.... I used my magic to freeze him in place allowing the others to strike and dealt the largest amount of damage. 35%"
"But that means..."
"You wanted it fairly dealt and so we have. We've been too generous with you. From now on the spoils will go to those that deal the damage." Cackled the mage.
"But that isn't fair! You can each afford gold plated armour and the best weapons. I can barely afford to sleep at any inn we stay at, let alone any supplies or weapons. The only thing I have is this dagger that the rogue couldn't even sell to a shop keeper."
"Well you should of thought about it BEFORE you mouthed off at the greatest adventurers in the land. Do you really want to fend for yourself out there?" Leered the paladin.
The clerics grip tightened around their staff. They were deep in a forrest filled with wild beasts, bandits and worse. "No" they hissed through gritted teeth.
"Good. Now that you've remembered your place we can spend the night here before setting off for our reward from the king in the morning."
The others nodded and started to share out some of the food from the barbarians dinner table. The cleric reached for some but the mage rapped her sharply on the knuckles.
"These are part of the spoils."
The others laughed cruelly. "Maybe if you're lucky you can find some berries outside." Sneered the rogue.
The cleric, silently fuming, grabbed a torch and headed outside.
"Make sure you tend to the beasts too!" Shouted the paladin to her retreating form.
She stomped angrily to then entrance to tend to the 3 horses and 1 donkey that they had rode here on. The animals all perked up at seeing her, gladly whinnying.
She muttered bitterly under her breath as she removed the saddles, gave them some vegetables to supplement the grass they gnawed on and tended to their wounds.
The paladins fine white stallion had chafe marks and weals from where the saddle had rubbed from under his immense weight. Idiot never remembered or cared to put a blanket on to his horse.
The rogues glossy black mare had painful sores where the rogue had dug in her heels to spur her to go faster.
And the poor mages creature. Some kind of magical horse. It had nasty whip marks from where it had done anything besides being silent and walking straight.
Only her own little donkey was free from injury.
Taking a jar of ointment out of her satchel she rubbed it into the wounds. They would be better in the morning.
The cleric continued onto the and swung her torch angrily over the forrest floor, searching for herbs, mushrooms, anything she could have for food.
"*Learn healing magic and you'll never be alone. Healers are important and respected.* Hogwash!" She muttered.
Her torch cast light on a small plant.
"Huh. I thought those only grew in the northern kingdom." She plucked a few leaves from it.
Standing she held her torch higher and saw that this wasn't the only unusual plant growing nearby.
|
"Today is the day I'm going to... " the old man glances into the sky.
"Today is the day I'm going to tell you about the group I was with when I lost my leg," he takes a stone cold look at the metal beam sticking out of the stump where his leg used to be before he continues: " and what can happen if you don't treat the people who keep you alive with respect."
He takes another minute to arrange the story in his head, staring down the cliff, no, staring at the reflection of the bright moon below them. He grabs a stone and looks at it, concentrating, closing his fist around it and with the next winds breath the tension in his face disappears completely. His hand shakes a bit as he opens it, emitting a small orange light from the palm of his hand where the stone is laying, or is it the stone itself? The noise around him dies out, it seems like as if even the birds in the trees stopped curiously to what is about to happen. The black figures around the man start to twitch a bit uncomfortably not knowing what will happen next, but the old man just throws the rock down the cliff and sights slightly.
He smiles into the dark to the others: "No worries I just wanted to see..." he makes a short pause " I just wanted to see something."
As everyone starts to relax again he grins a bit.
"It was 40 years ago, we were staying at a small tavern in the gald-sed woods where they were digging up the old elvish city, yes exactly, the one that is now a tourist attraction with these stupid elve costumes.
The five of us: Netra the Barbarian, Celiv-Dun the God forsaken mage with his own family Tempel, God I hated that guy, Nairda our Cleric and the druids, me and this other girl, I can't seem to remember her name, but she had great looks, that's probably why she got pretty friendly with with half of the group... but who cares right? I'm sorry I talk too much, where was I?" "In the tavern" comes the response from the young guy sitting next to the old man.
"Oh yes right. This one evening we were sitting at a table and discussing about where to go next because we almost drained the money we got from our last adventure up to three gold coins." "Three gold coins?" a squiky female voice asks alerted from the right side of the man. "That's enough to build a house in the Capital what kind of adventure was that? And how much did you guys spend so that you only had *Three Gold Coins* left?"
"That's a story for another time my dear everything" he smiles into the direction from where the voice came but he can only make out the shape of her body through the girls hair.
"Two of us, the barbarian and the mage wanted to go back to the capital to find work there. The rest of us wanted to stay here to help with the archeological expedition and get some coins this way. As I already said our mage Celiv was a dick, his family was rich and he was only with us because it was exciting for him, he was also the first person to die that night. He was drunk already and told us about how shitty the beds are here, that the food is terrible etcetera etcetera. Netra wanted to go because she just wanted to keep moving, it was always the same with her. But it could have turned out okay that evening a nice and healthy discussion, some heads would be banged together and that would have been it but Celiv had other ideas. As he slowly started to realize that we would not go back to the capital because three people were against it he started to attack Nairda, our Cleric personally. Not because she was arguing the most but because she was the easiest to attack. She was new in the group, we, the druids, had to help her out with the healing sometimes because she was just getting used to real fights and that was more than okay. I was 38 at that time, I was working as a healer almost 10 years before I joined the group but I'm getting too far off again.
He was going on and on about how bad she was as a cleric that she would always need help and why she would have the audacity to even take a vote because she, allegedly, wasn't even a real member of the group yet. We all got pretty angry, up to the point that Netra grabbed his head and banged it against the table until his nose was broken. We tried to stop her but, well, try to stop a barbarian when he's angry. Our mage fell to the ground unconscious and we left him there. None of us wanted to help him, he'd gone too far.
(This is my first real story in English and it is also written on my phone :P. I only write in German usually and also aboit a lot more grotesk stuff 😅. I hope you like it. Part two is not finished yet but I'll add it as soon as possible ^^)
| 2020-01-05T15:09:30
| 2020-01-05T11:20:43
| 16
| 10
|
[WP]A satanist tries to summon Satan, but summons Santa instead.
|
Ragnor sat alone in his basement. Days of preparation and research were finally going to pay off. His friends told him he was a fool. They said Satan would never present himself to a weak minded mortal like him. But he did not listen. He knew that by summoning the dark lord Lucifer, he would gain power beyond his wildest dreams, for being such a devoted devil worshiper.
Ragnor looked down at the floor. He had drawn a pentagram with chalk and under the low light of the solitary candle that stood at the center, the dark blood of a recently deceased goat, glistened warmly. He looked at his iPhone. A friend had sent him an English language translation of a Latin prayer, used by the witches of Salem. Ragnor was ready to begin the summoning.
"Lord Lucifer!!" he read. "I kneel before your insinge , heart filled with devotion, body ready to witness your unaltered being. I ask you to reveal yourself, to bring your body to the mortal realm, so we may, as humble servants, immerse ourselves in your ungodly aura."
Ragnor increased the pace of his reading, anticipation and excitement getting the better of him.
"We ask you to reveal yourself, to purify us from the wretched Christian spirit and energy that we, loyal servants, are forced to bare in order to avoid persecution by the holy and the just. Reveal yourself, Lord Santa. Reveal yourself!"
In an instant, Ragnor was flung across the room by an unseen force. He hit his head against the wall with an almighty thud. He lay on the floor, groaning in pain. He looked towards the pentagram, but his vision was blurred from the impact. He began to lose consciousness, but remained awake long enough to see his hard work pay off.
From the pentagram, black smoke began to emerge. It rose up to the ceiling, but did not move outward. Flashes of light began to appear in the smoke, with animal like roars coming from the smoke, in time with the flashes. The basement began to shake wildly and Rognar was now on the verge of unconsciousness. But before drifting away into a slumber, the shaking stopped. And from the smoke, a colossal red figured emerged.
Rognar looked at the figure. Even in his dazed state, he could recognize him. Big beard, large body, red suit and a massive bag.
"Fucking auto correct" he groaned.
Edit: Corrected some spelling errors
|
"Ho ho h-oops," said Santa as he burst forth from the summoning circle.
The jolly old man suddenly lost his smile as the realization set in. "Damnation!" he shouted, "not again!"
The young members of the coven looked at each other with a mix of surprise and awkwardness. Torn between astonishment that the incantation had worked and puzzlement at who had been summoned, they were at a loss for words.
Santa gave a sheepish grin as he took off his hat and beard, removing the corks from his horns. "Sorry girls, I got confused with my other gig." As he unfolded into his full height and discarded his fluffy winter jacket in a puff of sulfur, he motioned to the young witches. "Uh, could you turn around for a second? Let's have a do-over."
| 2014-06-23T04:39:53
| 2014-06-23T04:39:03
| 194
| 107
|
[WP] You've been cursed to be horribly influential, little side jokes you've made such as "the world is flat" and "vaccines cause autism" have spawned entire movements of avid followers. Today you accidentally said something that will turn out drastically worse...
|
I live a relatively normal life for someone of my capabilities. I would consider myself one of the most influential people of my time, you may have heard some of my works such as, the ‘world is flat’, ‘sugar and caffeine are good for you’, or one of my most famous pieces, ‘vaccines cause autism’ but I may have done myself in on this one. You see, it started with a bit of a bad day. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed to begin with, then my coffee tasted like shit, my toast burnt and I got caught in the worst traffic jam I had ever been a part of. I grabbed my briefcase from the passenger seat and exited my car begrudgingly. I thought about just telling my boss that I was sick, and just going home to try again tomorrow. I could not. I was supposed to close my biggest sale of the year that day. People were always pretty easy to convince they needed the products, and just as easy to convince that they should buy more than they needed, but with this sale sitting at 22% of my average yearly commission, I decided that playing hookie wasn’t the logical approach to this situation. I would have to suffer through the rest of this awful day. I sat at my cubicle and let out a little sigh, this was going to be a long 4 hours before I was going to be able to go home. The day droned on. There is only so many times that one could beat minesweeper before getting bored of it. I answered a couple more calls but they all went relatively the same and ordered far more than they should have. To be good at sales you really can’t have that thing called a moral compass getting in your way.
Finally I got the call I had been waiting for. At first it looked like the sale was going to go as it always does; he complains saying that the amount he ordered last year was far too high of an estimate and his company lost 2% in revenue from that purchase alone, and then I say but this year will be different and he believes me and makes the exact order all over again. This year was different, I could have stuck with my usual lines but this time I was feeling bold.
“I honestly just think you aren’t marketing properly. You were to use the advertising company I suggest you would be able to make up for the last 4 years of lost revenue by next quarter.” There was a pause on the other end of the phone and I could tell he would be mulling it over. I am sure most sales representatives would be sweating in their seats, trying to plan their next moves for as many possible reactions that the would be buyer could have. I am better than most sales representatives.
“I think you’re right, my marketing hasn’t been nearly as high of a priority as I think it should have been. How about this offer, and you can take it or leave it. I want to quadruple my original order and I will need the name and contact of the advertising company you were talking about.” He said as though he were in some bidding war and had just offered a deal only a man who had gone mad would refuse.
“Of course! What an excellent decision you have made. Let me just get some of your information to finalize the request and we can both be on our way.” the rest of the phone call was a blurr, I was far too busy thinking about the profit I had somehow managed to accumulate. There was no way in hell someone would ever agree to that deal, that man is normally very business savvy and has been able to sniff out a gambling sales pitch like that with all of my other colleagues. Only one explanation was possible; I had super powers. I was some supernatural being born with the gift of a silver tongue. I could get whatever my heart desired.’I am amazing’ I thought to myself ‘I am incredible’ We finished the remaining signatures and said our goodbyes ‘I am the next messiah’ With a click the call had ended and I had secured 88% of my yearly commission in one phone call.
“I am god!” I exclaimed. Before I had realized what I had said, I heard the sounds of dropped glass breaking on the tiled floor behind me.
|
Yeah this is fun trolling people. What a bunch of staves people are they will follow anything and everything. Look at my track record.
First I said “the world is flat.” And these morons actually believed it. There was even a jackass on Facebook who had a video about it and everything. He came up with all kinds of nonsense that [PROVES IT!](https://youtu.be/3XclStdqkA4). And it’s complete garbage. Look people it really is simple the world is **VERY BIG** and you can’t see how big it is unless you are **REALLY HIGH UP.**
Keeping on the topic of space i decided for my next act of trolling that I would say, “The Moon Lansing was fake.” The funny thing was this one created twice as many followers as before 500,000 stupid people started pushing my agenda. The results were so hilarious. People were saying this was true for all kind of reasons. 1.) They saw the proof in a scene in an old James Bond movie Diamonds are Forever. (Dumbasses that’s a movie not real life). 2.) Then there was the fact the flag was sticking straight on in the picture. (Well yeah they put metal wires in the flag so it could be shown off. It doesn’t really prove anything if the US claims the moon and no one can see the flag.). 3.) Some even made ludicrous claims that the Nazis escaped to the moon after WW2 so we wouldn’t want to go there. (Yeah and killer bees make chocolate honey too.). I am a natural leader. Trump or Obama who cares **I AM THE TRUE RULER!** I am bigger than those two fools ever were. I can rewrite history with a keystroke.
Well now it’s time to push my values on people. I think vaccines cause autism. I hate them and I want them to go away! So in my page I put this out there, “Vaccines cause Autism and are useless!” The response was staggering I had half the world supporting my views my ideas. People were all on this bandwagon refusing to give their kids vaccines. It was a little unnerving hearing how kids contracted polio but you know what that’s their fault for being easily swayed. I mean everyone knows autism is cause by women who can’t control their silly vices during pregnancy. But anyway, screw Kim Kardashian and Kanye Who! They don’t mean shit to me I’ll surpass all of them as the worlds most famous person with the most followers of all time. **EL MUNDO ES MIO!!!**. I have all of these fools eating out of my hand!
But soon things started to get annoying. People kept sending me messages asking for advice. 1,). Who should I vote for President? (I don’t care.). 2.) Which clothes are the most trendy? (What do I look like a fashionista?). 3.) Should I like Ariana Grande or Rihanna? (Again who cares just go on YouTube and pick something you stupid dolts.). 4.). Should I block this girl on Facebook because she has a mole on her face? (Oh my god fuck off will you!). 5.). Where should we fuck off to my lord? (Oh my god I am going to shoot someone!). Like I care about any of these fools. But they wouldn’t shut up! All of these people in the world kept asking me questions, “What do I do next.” AHHHH! I can’t take it go away get the hell away from me.
Ok this is the last straw, **”ALL OF YOU GO KILL YOURSELVES!!”**
| 2018-10-16T18:25:27
| 2018-10-16T18:03:31
| 55
| 10
|
[WP] Every two years, the Galactic Rally is held to determine which race in the galaxy makes the fastest ships. The talk of this year's race: a late entry from an obscure body in the SK system, that the inhabitants call "Earth."
|
"You want to enter that thing?" The acceptance clerk glanced at the translucent screen offered by the human. On it was displayed an orbital cargo freighter.
The Captain looked at the screen and then at the alien clerk.
"Well, yes. Is there something wrong?"
"No, not so much. It just doesn't look very. Ah, forget about it. It is your first year, just try to have fun." The clerk brushed it off. Plenty of races showed up to their first race with pond hoppers, unaware of just what they were up against.
"Yessir, that's what we are here for." The Captain replied, flashing his teeth in a large grin.
The alien briefly recoiled, then relaxed as it saw this was not an aggressive emote.
"Your registration will be delivered to the ship electronically via encrypted message. Can you provide any interface specs for your shipboard AI?"
"We don't have any AI, full crew compliment including astrogation and propulsion."
The alien was incredulous.
"Look, I understand not being prepared, but this is outlandish. How can you compete without a shipboard AI? It would be a waste of a registration."
"I understand your concern... uhh"
"Foglekrumpth" is the closest the Captain's translator could achieve. "But we are more than prepared and steeled for the task. This is not our first... high speed mission."
"If you say so." the alien shrugged, at least the Captain thought as much from the ripple of movement across the exposed tendons on the aliens shoulders. "Here is a copy of the rules, it is written in scientific format so it should translate very well. Please be fully aware of all rules before lining up at the pole. Your position is 1.0e5. Be aware that the race is such a distance that instantaneous communication is not possible, you may be flying in the dark."
"I don't think that will be a problem." the Captain said, a glint in his eye.
----
The ships all took up their pole positions, many were sleek and advanced prototypes carefully crafted by their respective agencies, engineered strictly for the purpose of high-speed interstellar flight. Some boasted tremendous main drives, others favored smaller and needlelike dimensions. A few were military battle ships, others representatives from cultures that acted as deliverymen.
The human cargo ship took its position at 1.0e5, 100,000 ships back from the first pole.
The Captain raised their alert status as the cargo ships capacitor banks charged.
"All of you know the risks involved in this flight. We know our destination, but have no record of it. Astrogation, before the lights begin I want to know for certain we will be landing where we want to. We cannot afford a single calculation mistake. Propulsion, we need every last capacitor at maximum power. We are traveling further in this race than we did to get here. That will mark the longest human flight in history, lets not blow ourselves up."
He was interrupted by an incoming comms transmission from pit control.
"On my screen." he said.
Another alien clerk appeared before the captain on his personal screen. This one seemed to be more of an official, wearing straps on his arm indicating rank.
"Captain, our sensors are detecting a tremendous energy buildup within your ship. As per regulations, we must establish contact to ensure there is no risk to the rest of the fleet. Do you have an antimatter containment breach or anything we must be aware of?"
"No sir, we are merely charging our capacitor banks from the reactor."
"Capacitor banks?" the alien was baffled. "How can you store so much...." the alien revisited the schematics the humans presented for the cargo ship, and it clicked. "I see. Proceed. We will be maintaining a visual on you, if we deem the power surge to be dangerous we may be forced to remove you from the race."
"Understood, I assure you our design is safe."
The alien disappeared from his screen.
"Long story short, they noticed the power surge. I hope we haven't played our hand too soon, if control saw it other ships may have as well. Continue the charge, we don't have much time." the Captain addressed his bridge crew.
----
It was minutes before the poles would chime the start of the race. Across the entire meeting zone, ships were in various stages of ready. Some of the less experienced crews were struggling with reactor readings outside of optimal, and others had already had to call it quits due to damage from tweaks to achieve higher speeds.
The human cargo ship had been silent, abstaining from the cross-chatter common before a race begins. As the poles began their countdown, some could detect a powerful surge of energy from the human cargo ship. With ten seconds until the gate would drop, most sensor maps showed the start gate as a giant glow whose epicenter was position 1.0e5.
And as the pole hit green, it was gone. Just as many ships began their plunge into subspace, others utilizing high speed direct propulsion, the human ship totally disappeared from all sensors - most capable of detection up to a few lightyears. Even the fastest ships could be tracked for a few hours after the start.
Some theorized they had vaporized, and the race commission labeled them MIA until further investigation.
It wasn't until the next morning when the communications finally arrived from the finish line, reporting that the human ship had arrived roughly 3 seconds after the race began.
|
Mankind had always thought they were blessed to have a planet like Earth. Beautiful oceans and fertile land, Earth had it all.
Except for one thing of course, Lighterium. This was the compound that made faster than light travel a possibility. Almost every other planet had some kind of natural reserves of the material, giving them the ability to explore the stars thousands of years before humans would even set foot on the moon.
Japster stepped into the room with scanning eyes taking in every inch of detail. His white jump suit was covered in Earthly gadgets and gizmos, brandishing a United States of America flag over the left side of his chest. Most of the other racers sat staring at the floor, contemplating all the training they went through to arrive at this opportunity. The few racers who did look at Japster flashed a condescending chuckle. Japster hated how the other species treated humans like children, but he took that frustration into himself and molded it into determination. He was here to win, and Japster was going to bring respect back to his planet just like any good patriot would do.
Much like the ancient Olympics on Earth, who's most popular event was the 100m dash. The Galactic Rally had many races, but the most important was the 100,000Km rush which took place on an asteroid that had a pull of 0.67 Galactic Gravitational Units.
The competitors lined up on the tracks. This race was more than a battle of speed, it was a battle of ingenuity. A plethora of technologies were implemented in the various ships. From nuclear fusion, Low pressure lighterium engines, to water based propulsion systems. Despite the differences in technology, most ships were made as small and light as possible coming into the size of an old cargo truck from back in the 2000's.
The crowd gasped the second they saw what Earth had to unveil. A ship tripling the size of anything around it, with three large cylinders attached to the bottom and a weirdly shaped plane design for the main hull. The outside was scratched and had paint chipped off. The only words recognizable on the side were "Space Shut" with the rest being worn off from years of neglect.
The crowd started booing at the haphazard attempt in the race. Earth had already been a laughing stock with it's long distance faster than light travel, but no one could believe that they would try to embarrass themselves even further.
Japster could hear the boo's through the system comm. He couldn't let this break him down. He let out a confident smirk thinking maybe if he just fakes acting like everything will be okay then the nervousness would fade. He trusted the engineers at home with his life, but that didn't stop the butterflies in his stomach from swirling around. Japster had always been confident, but there's only so much pressure a man can take. Especially when the reputation of his people hangs in the balance.
Despite these feelings, there was two things Japster knew. How to pilot spacecraft, and how to get a handle on himself. Japster took a deep breath in, letting the air melt away the tension in his gut. He had come too far and gone through too much to let go of his dream now. With that done, Japster flipped the comm switch.
"Houston, I'm ready." He said. There wasn't a wavering gleam in his eye. He was determined to make history.
With all the ships ready, the countdown to the race had begun. Every racer was itching to slam the acceleration, just waiting to hear the starting buzzer go off. It felt like an eternity in every single cockpit, but then the beep sound struck into the ears of every competitor. The water propulsion systems let out an extremely focused jet of H2O, forcing the water propulsion ships out first. The nuclear fusion ships had to wait a second for the plasma to charge up before setting off. The low pressure lighterium engines were a cousin of proper lighterium engines. They were much slower than their long distance counterparts but were the cheapest fuel source on many lighterium rich planets. Their top speed was relatively high, but had terrible acceleration.
All of the other types of ships shot ahead leaving Earth's ship still at the finish line. Aliens in the stands started laughing, in disbelief that they were even thought that Earth's debut was going to be a challenge. The O2 release valves in the back of Japster's ship opened and the ignition sparked the fuel source.
In less than a second the Earthen ship blasted forward accelerating to 28,968 KmH. Nearly thirty times the speed of the previous winner of the Galactic Rally. The explosive fuel that the humans used left nothing but destruction in it's wake. Before the people in the stands could stop laughing, Earth was already in the lead. The ship was leaving a canyon in it's trail. Mountains on the asteroid were being flattened, and there was just no slowing down the humans. The previous record for fastest 100,000km rush was a measly 50 hours. Japster had made it look like child's play, coming in first at 3.45 hours. With the second place winner coming in after 60.23 hours.
The other species started to realize their mistake. They had spent thousands of years developing long distance travel to colonize their surrounding stars. While on the other hand, humans had spent thousands of years developing short distance travel to colonize their own star.
Japster had trusted the engineers at home since the start, but he still didn't believe this was happening. His body didn't just feel light, he felt like he was floating from the excitement. Earth had shocked every single person today, and Japster was going down in history as the man who helped make it happen.
Japster took a deep breathe and emerged from the cockpit. Hundreds of alien reports charged at him, microphones in hand.
"Please! Please people! Control yourselves, I'll answer your questions one at a time." He told them, shocked at their enthusiasm. Japster picked out one of the reporters with his finger.
"Mr. Japster, what kind of ship is this?" The reporter asked, tablet and microphone in hand.
"Oh this? This is just some old toy called the space shuttle." Japster chuckled. "You should see what we'll have next time when we actually try."
| 2016-12-11T15:10:20
| 2016-12-11T14:29:08
| 19
| 12
|
[WP] Show me an alarmist piece about today's youth called "Drone Culture" that slightly out of touch mom's would share on Facebook. Make it sound dire, but reasonable.
You all know exactly the kind of crap I'm talking about. Make it shine!
Edit: Feel free to cite experts, real or imagined.
|
**IS YOUR TEEN USING A DRONE TO GET HIGH?!**
*Another consequence of Obamacare!*
By Abigail Scissorsechs
May 10, 2017
When Brian McCardle, a 13 year old student at Berkshire Fullman Middle School, brought his WASP110 radio drone to Mr. Ehrmant's science class last Friday, he unwittingly revealed a "drone culture" where teenagers can get high without noticeable warning signs.
"It has a maximum altitude of about 2,000 feet," said McCardle to his stunned classroom. "I've gotten *seriously* high with this thing."
McCardle's drone was seized by the Bloomfield County Sheriff's Department as drug paraphernalia in what is likely the first battle of the drone culture drug war.
"He let me fly the drone once," said eighth grade student Karli Wells. "It was awesome. We got *so* high and started taking aerial photos."
The Sheriff's Department also seized McCardle's laptop, iPhone, and GoPro video camera in an effort to root out McCardle's suspected child pornography distribution scheme.
McCardle's parents claim that he purchased the drone online with money he saved from selling weed. "We didn't know it was dangerous," said Lindsey McCardle.
|
DOCTORS WORRIED ABOUT NEW DRONE CULTURE EPIDEMIC AMONG TEENAGERS! PLEASE SHARE!!!
DOCTORS warn of an alarming number of injuries and even deaths among teenagers and young children. The cause of this problem has been linked to the growing "Drone Culture" among the youth.
Dr. Skahm, director of the *New Alternative Healing Clinic of Northern Sheboygan* has reported seeing many NEW cases of head injuries, broken collarbones, and a condition known as *Aqua-Rouge Mammary Dermal Abrasions* otherwise known as ARMDA. Years ago ARMDA was a rarely seen condition caused by contaminated lunch money. However, since the beginning of Drone Culture Dr. Skahm reports a 1000% increase in ARMDA cases. Many of which, he explains, are caused by what he labels "Hazard Blindness."
"I DIDN'T KNOW IT WOULDN'T SWERVE ON ITS OWN!"
Teenagers are reported to be starting their cars and putting them into gear only to climb into the back seat to play video games under the assumption all cars are self driving drones. Other teenagers are experiencing less severe injuries by assuming their own shoes should avoid hazards for them.
"I paid $200 for these shoes!" A High School Student treated at the Southern West Virginia Regional Medical Center claimed, "I thought for sure they were drones that would keep me from walking into people!"
DRONE CULTURE is a serious hazard as teenagers have grown accustomed to the idea that drones are everywhere. They believe drones are everywhere even when none are seen. Police warn that Drone Culture has also been linked to identity theft. Scammers have been adopting what police are calling a "Bait and Dynamite" tactic where people are sent fraudulent emails claiming that there was a problem with a recent online purchase. The recipient is advised to go to his or her window and shout out their own credit card number, social security number, and mother's maiden name so that they may be clearly recorded by the microphones in overhead drones.
Police warn that if you receive such an email that this is likely a fraud as few companies are using persistent drone monitoring for customer services reason.
Please be aware of the dangers of expecting drones to do everything for you! Please explain to your children that cars and shoes will not avoid hazards nor does underwear pilot itself to the washing machine.
| 2015-03-20T10:24:51
| 2015-03-20T08:38:59
| 115
| 13
|
[WP] You are a superhero, and your mask has just been ripped off by your arch nemesis. Lucky for you, when you aren’t busy saving lives, you live as a hermit away from all of society. Having your identity revealed means next to nothing, and the villain has no idea who you are.
|
"Destiny Matthews?" the man said to me as I sat near my small fire under the bridge, pretending to huddle against the cold. The name I hadn't heard used in years sent chills down my spine.
"Whattaya want?" I asked, hamming up the part of a bum, but I knew this stranger knew it was an act. The bald head, the regal posture, and the arrogant voice. The Void Mister stood before me - out of costume, of course. This boded ill but I could not understand why this would suddenly bother me after a decade. What could he have?
"Who would have thought?" he asked, gesturing around, "The Black Nova is homeless."
"Figured the ripped off mask would do this, that and facial-recognition corporation you own that's really just a front for your criminal enterprises," I shot back, dropping the act as I leaned back into the support of the bridge. The concrete vibrated slightly with traffic passing above, "Again, what do you want?"
"Mother and father died in a plane crash," he stated clearly, ignoring my question, "Father was a physicist. Was it a little accident with one of his atom-shattering experiments that gave you your powers, I wonder. Too bad, your parents being alive would be very useful to use against you. No other living relatives. Not that you would care about, anyway. Then imagine my surprise when I learned about your husband and child. They are almost completely forgotten with the passage of time but I managed to piece together your little secret."
"Did you?" my senses were heightened and I felt the burning of atomic fire at the core of my being stirring.
"My investigators found two piles of radioactive ash in the abandoned burnt-out house where you lived, all three occupants presumed burnt to death in the resulting inferno," he smiled brightly, "But you and I both know only two people died that day. She was 4 years old. If you couldn't have her, no one could, is that it? Nasty little surprise that, still it explains things."
"Uh huh," I nodded and hoped he would believe there was a dark, evil side of me that was seeking to make up for the horrible wrongs I'd done that night.
"And with a little investigation," he tapped the side of his skull, "I discovered he had filed divorce papers. Was he threatening to tell the world your little secret? Expose you? After ten years I've figured it all out and I am going to ruin you in the media. Imagine the headlines - Earth's Greatest Hero a Fraud! - A Family Slaughtered!. The press can be SO tacky but I think I'll let them indulge themselves on this one little thing. I'll even be sure that exact headline is used in all the media I own."
I stood up and heard the hiss of his force-field crackle like frying-eggs as it activated. He was a genius and his forcefield was tough to penetrate. It was what allowed him to survive in a world of heroes that could otherwise smush him like a bug.
"Wow, you got it, genius." I smiled at him and kicked a stone and he smiled back in triumph, "Almost." My smile grew as I added, "You see, my husband did not know about my powers."
I watched his smile dwindle and could imagine his brain working feverishly with the new information. The look of astonishment told me he had figured it out, "What, then where..."
Out of the darkness, the cab of a semi-truck smashed through him and his shield, unable to compensate for the sheer amount of kinetic energy smashing into him. I quickly did the calculations for how much force a ten-ton object moving at several hundred miles per hour would exert on a human-sized target and whistled softly as he went from a man to a cloud of blood gently floating through the night - a mist in the void. How appropriate. I smiled as the young teenage heroine landed across from me.
"Just in time to save the day, Guardian Angel," I hugged her and she looked me up and down.
"Mom," she said to me through rapidly-forming tears, "He figured it all out. Figured out you killed dad because of me, not you. Wait, where are you going?"
I had risen off the pavement, my clothing burning off in wisps of atomic fire, "There's a mansion to be burned down. I have to destroy the evidence. I could use a hand, you know."
The tears in her eyes came out in torrents as she flew to my side. I heard "I love you, mom," whispered through the tearing night air.
"I know, baby, I know," I said, flying straight and true, forever knowing that even the brightest heroes hid dark secrets.
|
Through thin thin eggshell walls of the motel room, the voice of Paul Anka crooned about a slow dance as rain pattered against the windows. The floors needed to be steamed and the tile needed an extra mopping. The only nice thing that could be said was no bugs were spotted when the pair had burst through the door. The woman's sinewy legs wrapped around the costumed waist of the man. Her poison tipped claws were tossed to the side before her nails danced against his smooth cheeks. Their mouths closed together in a deep embrace that had required the man's preternatural sense to remain alert as he spun and stumbled drunkenly towards the bed.
The two enemies' mood had changed when Arkantos' mask was pulled away and Toxina gasped that her heroic rival, her nemesis. Her obstacle who had constantly foiled all her plans was a beautiful looking nobody. She had audibly gasped, her cheeks flush with color while her brass claws dipped in lethal poison were inches from his face. She could feel the warmth emanating in his hands as he had prepared to blast her from behind, his hands had been wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him that a flush of emotions had raced into the two enemies. The mood had quite changed as their affections carried them from their fight in the warehouse to the hotel bedroom where they snuggled together.
"I have to admit," Toxina said, her skin flushed after a closer embrace, "I thought I was going to be completely ambivalent when I pulled that mask off your face, Ark." She said. Her fingers were tipped by mere nails as she tapped his chest, "I had rehearsed the entire scene in my head. You were going to be some man-about-town, someone I had read in the papers, and then I'd think: Well, Toxie, you were right all along. This guy was so-and-so, or he's this yadda-yadda." She giggled before saying, "One of the few times you've left me completely speechless."
"Do you think all of the City's rich are costumes, Tox?" Arkantos asked, using the nickname that he often called her by. It usually was during the midst of a battle between Sorcerer and Assassin.
She shrugged, "A great deal of the city's rich are either supervillains or mob-bosses. I figure the other half of the prosperous were just fighting the other half. One of the things that I find *delicious* about you, my sweet, is now you're a mystery to me."
"You're still a mystery to me," Arkantos pointed out, "I take it your actual name isn't Tox. I could find out-" He was shushed by her finger against his lips. She rolled warm, fair digit along his moist lips to collect a touch of saliva which she then licked off, "Let's keep a little mystery here darling, by tomorrow will be fighting each other." Her emerald eyes narrowed dreamily as she looked him over. In the distance the muffled music continued to play against the rain. He smiled back at her, his arms wrapping behind her to draw her close to him. He asked: "Would you have really put those claws in me if you hadn't pulled my mask off?" Arkantos asked.
She yawned and nodded, "Would have poisoned you right as you blasted me. Probably have died together, if there is any romance in that."
He shook his head and said, "I don't think so, but then again, I dislike being a star crossed lover." He bit his lip and thought of how they might meet again. Two masks, or perhaps unmasked having to fight each other. His skin suddenly felt flush as he said, "How long can we keep this up?"
The rain had picked up its rhythm, battering against the glass while back by the wind. Toxina looked over, listening to rapid tapping before saying: "I think we can wait a little while long before we go back to business as usual." She said.
| 2020-08-21T02:05:49
| 2020-08-20T23:13:29
| 667
| 126
|
[WP] Suddenly, all sea life vacates a 300 mile wide area in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. A ship is deployed to investigate.
|
“We are approaching the Vacant Zone.”
From where he stood upon the bridge, Admiral Hann stared off into the endless expanse of sea before him. According to the top brass, there was no marine life for the next two hundred and sixty nautical miles. He personally felt that such a report could only have been the result of an erroneous reading, but when he, along with his ship, *Wolfgang*, were assigned to investigate, he was forced to begrudgingly accept the mission.
“Scanners are not picking up any abnormal readings.” From before him sat his bespectacled Navigation Officer, Berger. A steadfast man, second-in-command, he was leading the way for most of the mission, considering Hann's disapproval of the task at hand.
He continued to drone on, relaying information on the situation. “We have entered the Vacant Zone. All crew stand by.”
“Order from command.” The Communications Officer, Hoffman, spoke in a gruff voice. “Venture into the middle of the Vacant Zone.”
Hann sneered, stepping down from where he stood. “This mission is a waste of time. They should have just sent the Americans. They'd do any odd job.”
The ship continued to sail on, further into the Vacant Zone, and not a single creature, whether it be bird or fish, came anywhere near where they were. To some, it seemed like mere superstition, to others, an unusual change in migration patterns.
The silence on the bridge was broken by a single yell. “Object sighted!”
In the center of the Vacant Zone, far in the distance, sat a gargantuan watercraft – far greater than any battleship the men had ever seen.
Peters, the Tactics Officer, peered off into the distance with a small pair of binoculars. “Is that a ship?”
Hann grumbled, as his brow furrowed. He took a single deep breath to calm himself, but didn't help him at all. “It's the Americans, isn't it? It's always the Americans.”
“Command can not identify the craft.” Hoffman held a hand to his earpiece, listening intently to the words coming through it. “It is not of American origin.”
Berger spoke up. “Admiral Hann. Continue approach?”
He let out a weary sigh. “That's what they're making us do, isn't it?”
The Wolfgang continued to approach the craft, and as it veered closer into view, the crew gained a better look of it. Despite its immense size, it was sleek, almost like a luxury cruiser, but the top of it was covered in unusual metal coils, running from one end of the ship to the other. They came as close as they could and stared in awe, starstruck by the unusual vessel before their eyes.
Hann stared at it, his face turning redder by the minute. A single vein bulged at the top of his forehead, threatening to burst. “It's the Chinese then, isn't it?”
Berger dismissed the ramblings of his own admiral and asked the question everyone was waiting for, but nobody dared ask.
“Should we investigate it?”
“Yes,” said Peters, returning to his assigned seat. “I'll ready a team immediately.”
A team was assembled and made their way onto the craft, trying to find a safe entrance within, rather than bust their way inside. The coils pulsed with an unusual energy, and from inside the ship itself came a thunderous rattling, with the occasional low pitched howl.
The recon team continued to survey the ship, guns at the ready – should they encounter something hostile – waiting for the order to blast open the ship, for conventional measures to enter it had failed.
“Why?” said Berger, not moving his eyes off the ship before him. “Why hasn't anything happened?”
“This is a waste of time,” said Hann, as he wiped sweat off his brow. “Blow it open.”
The recon team received the order, and after a brief moment of setup, blasted a hole into the side of the ship. The explosive charge did less damage than expected, and so they had to crawl in one by one, into the dark depths of the vessel itself.
The crew upon the bridge waited, but as seconds turned to minutes, which then continued to roll by, they had a sinking feeling that something had gone wrong.
“Recon team, come in.” Peters spoke into his headset, but there came no reply.
“Let's get out of here,” said Hann, grinding his teeth against each other. “Let the Americans deal with it.”
“Command, potential hostile or dangerous elements in the unidentified vessel. Requesting permission to disengage.” Hoffman droned into his microphone and waited for a response.
“Command, come in.”
“Command?”
He tapped at the screen before him, and turned towards the admiral with a fearful look upon his face. “Communications are down.”
“We'll leave anyway.” Came the reply from Hann, fed up with the task at hand.
But as the crew attempted to depart, they realized one by one that their ship itself had completely failed. The engine refused to start up, and their electricity slowly powered down, causing the lights to flicker and fade in an endless circadian rhythm – before powering down entirely.
“We're dead in the water,” said Berger, staring at the blank screen before him. “The Wolfgang is dead in the water.”
* * *
^/r/khaarus
|
"We've tested the water three times, there is nothing in the water other than diluted salt!"
His voice rang through the ship's bridge, his hand clenching on a batch of rolled up print outs.
"We took a sample, at the demarcation of this event. From outside the ring, and then only a few miles within the ring. We've tested -that- sample five times!"
He started waving the rolled up print outs in the air, brandishing them like a weapon.
"Then sample five miles in at 50 feet, then 10 miles in at 100 feet, and 15 miles at 150 feet. Nothing! No life, no... nothing! It's just salt water. I don't know how many times I have to say this, but we need to be extremely cautious because if this is some kind of radiation or some other phenome-"
"James we get it," a heavily accented voice cut off the scientist that was near hysterics, "There is no precedent for this sort of event. We are damn near to the center of this and you ran out of cable at the 100 mile mark. My question now is, do we have anything on-board that could protect us if this is a radiation event?"
James, though panting from his excursion, turned to look at his fellow scientists. There was a look of hopelessness on their features.
"No, Captain. We do not."
"Then, you'll need to make sure your findings are sent back to the command ship immediately."
"If I may interject, Captain," a tall man in a severe suit stepped forward. The look of disdain from the four scientists was evident.
"Mr. Fumée, you've made your position quite clear, but this is a scie-"
Mr. Fumée raised his hand, and the Captain was silenced, "You are dealing with a circumstance that your science cannot explain. This is not about radiation, nor any other sort of malady. We are dealing with a form of sol sainte. A phenomena that my organization has dealt with before."
There a dismissive laugh that came out of one of the female scientist, "Sol sainte, holy ground. You're full of merde!"
Mr. Fumée turned his head slightly in her direction, but returned his attention back to the captain, "Listen, the strange bio-luminescence that we are witnessing at our wake, is the molecular instability of what makes this ship, a ship. Listen to what your science is telling you. If there is nothing within the radius of this event, other than salt water what chance does this ship have of being held together? Or for how long?"
The captain gave the man a long look, and cast his eyes to the horizon. They were only 20 miles from the center of this. What he had not let on to was, that two bilge pumps had already broken down for unknown reasons.
"What would you have me do, Mr. Fumée?"
"Make the call. Bring in the Légion."
| 2017-11-17T07:01:06
| 2017-11-17T06:13:05
| 400
| 130
|
[WP] You are a thief in a magical world and have snuck into the castle. You make your way to the Prince’s chambers and try on his clothing and crown. Suddenly, several men bust into the room and mistakenly take you hostage. You wake up in the back of a wagon beside your long time crush, the Princess
|
In hindsight, I really should've accounted for evil overlord invasions when planning to break into the royal castle and steal the prince's clothing.
I was in the middle of putting one of the prince's garments when the dark army began invading. Now, one would think that stealing the prince's clothing in general would be an exercise in futility and an affront to practicality, but I knew better.
You see, I loved the princess. I loved the princess very, very much. I loved her so much that I wanted to be with her. I wanted to be close to her, and who was closer to her than the prince himself? I mean, aside from her servants, but what self respecting thief would disguise themselves as a *servant?*
The point was, I wanted to be with the princess, and to do that I knew I had to *become* the prince. I had to put on the prince's clothes, put up a fancy pose, and think, "Wow, I am the prince," and have it be true, because I would have the prince's clothing and therefore be the prince.
I lamented over how I would never be able to implement this genius plan. The dark army was currently storming the castle and was burning it down in the process. Pick today of all times, I thought angrily as I stumbled over various articles of clothing, scrambling to find a hiding spot.
"Open up! For the Overlord! Open up or we will use force instead!" Four rather metal looking men immediately crashed through the door afterwards, disregarding their previous warning entirely. I, of course, had expertly hidden myself in a pile of clothing, and was completely undetectable to the unskilled eye.
"Hey! There's the prince! He's passed out on that pile of clothes!"
Curses! That spot was perfect! They clearly had a scryer in their midst! I immediately shot to my feet and tried to get away, but my plans for escape were foiled by a particularly diabolical pile of clothes situated right in front of the closet. I struggled violently as the armored men seized my wrists, dragging me towards the door.
"Barbarians! Unhand me! I am the prince and you will treat me as such!" I had really gotten into the act. The armored men did not respond, as they were busy kidnapping me, the esteemed prince himself. I decided to try again.
"Are you ignoring me? You can't simply ignore the prince! As a royal order I demand you let me go right this moment! Do you hear me?! You'll be whipped and flogged for this if you continue a second more!" Clearly intimidated by me, one of the men suddenly stopped in his tracks. He rummaged through a satchel, looking for something, then pulled out a vial and a cloth.
Pouring the contents of the vial into the cloth, he walked towards me. "What is this?!" I yelled, "A magical potion?! I'll have you know no potions can stop me from being the prince, because that's what I am! The prince! You'd better put that down, or- *mph, mphhhh!*" A chemical smell flooded my nostrils, making me feel rather woozy.
Convincing these armored men was too much work after all, I decided, and so I promptly fell unconscious.
---
I woke up in the back of a rather cramped wagon. Two men were bickering in the driver's seat, my head still felt rather woozy from being drugged, and both my hands and feet were tied with shoddy looking rope. Overall an ordinary night, if not for the fact that the princess herself happened to be sitting in front of me, tied up and looking rather disgruntled at being kidnapped from her own home.
As she looked me straight in the eye, glaring furiously, I merely tilted my head up and smiled.
"Hello!" I said rather friendly-like.
"Who are you?! Why are you dressed up in Richard's clothing?!" she said rather unfriendly-like.
"It's me! The prince!" I admitted, still beaming as a particularly rough jostle rocked the wagon we were being carted in.
The princess blinked, then set her face into a deep frown. "Listen here boy, I don't know who you are or what asylum you've escaped from, but I've just been snatched from my own home and am being sent to *who knows where!* I am in no mood for these damn games!"
I frowned as I realized this was the girl I had pined for all my life. She wasn't really all I had expected: brunette hair, brown eyes, and nothing else that was really notable compared to me. It was like I had never truly seen her before now.
Which was true. I had never seen the princess in my life before now. I didn't even know her name. Truthfully the only reason I had fallen deeply in love with her was because I didn't know who else to love and she was the richest unmarried girl in the kingdom.
I sighed as I struggled over this internal crisis, then promptly forgot about it.
"So... you come here often?" I said absentmindedly to the princess in front of me.
For some reason she puffed her chest up in outrage. "What-" was all she could say before a terrible shudder rocked us forward as the wagon came to a stop.
The wagon-driver got out of his seat and walked up to me, a menacing grin on his face. "Alright, time to get off, you're due for a meeting with the Overlord himself!"
I smacked my head against his head and learned how painful smacking your head against anything at all was rather painful. The wagon-driver crashed to the ground, clutching his head.
I slipped out of my bonds (which were quite terrible, as I said before), and jumped out of the wagon. I began to flee, but stopped as I realized I was forgetting something.
Running over to the princess, I put my hands under her, much to her protest, and lifted her up.
Tried. Tried to lift her up, she was actually quite heavy. I settled for pulling her instead and grabbed her right arm. I hurriedly rushed away from the wagon, dragging the princess all the way, who was being awfully difficult about the entire thing, yelling and cursing at me and everyone I was related to.
Before the wagon-driver could come to his senses and before the other man could notice, I had skillfully maneuvered both myself and the princess through the dirt into a bush.
My expert hiding skills worked, seeing as the frantic voices of the wagon-driver and his acquaintance soon faded in the other direction. Relaxing, I slumped against a particularly flat rock, letting out a relieved sigh. The princess, still tied up, stared at me wide eyed, no doubt dazzled by my dashing act. I should've arranged the marriage already, she obviously adored me.
I gave her my best smile. "What's your name again?"
"Fuck you."
|
The wagon shook and rattled violently. Lancer sat on a stiff wood frame, stuffed between two muscular soldiers. He imagined they were well paid mercenaries, defectors. Likely paid a king’s ransom to kidnap the prince and princess.
The princess sat across the way, stuffed between two soldiers of her own. Their chain mail jangled as the wagon bumped.
Lancer glanced up at the Princess. An orchid of a woman, bright and colorless, but for a rosy blush about the cheeks. She had a bluish sheet of bruising on her forehead, where she was punched during the scuffle.
Lancer grabbed her attention with a whistle. “I’m sorry, Posara.”
Posara did not look. She held her head down, eyes averted to the creaky black floor. Her neck stuggled to keep her head stable against the pounding of the wagon.
Lancer tried again. “Posara, you can trust me. I’ll never fail you. Do you trust me?”
Posara said nothing, scratching at her leg, then caressing her forehead.
Lancer placed his hand upon his leg, tensing his muscles tight. He slowly leaned down, grabbing a hilt within his boot. Then he burst into action.
Lancer slammed his knife into the neck of the soldier to his right. Then he quickly repeated the strike on the other soldier.
The soldiers beside Posara leaped up, but the princess tripped them mid-lunge. Lancer pulled up their helmets and dispatched them with his dagger, now black with fresh blood.
“Come. Jump with me,” said Lancer.
Posana reluctantly inched toward the aperture of the wagon. She relented, so Lancer pushed her and jumped out right behind.
They rolled around behind the barreling wagon, spinning like dancing performers. They came to a rest, caked in dirt. Posana laid like a heavy rock. Lancer rose and helped the princess to her feet.
The princess patted off her puffy blue dress. “Wonderful. Now what, my *Prince*?”
Lancer ignored her comment. “We have to get off this road. They will be after us.”
The couple diverged from the road, walking into the Dead Forest. The trees loomed over them like deathly claws. A bog stretched over the land. They would need to get into the water to cross the forest. The road was not an option.
They stepped into the murky bog, and found it to only be knee high. Posana cursed at the dirt. Lancer laughed, “first time you’ve had dirt on your feet?”
Posana growled, saying nothing. The dark water seeped up her dress, causing it to cling to her legs. Lancer noticed she was wearing no britches.
When they crossed the bog, they came upon a large clearing. The trees seemed to haunt the air. A cool breeze chilled the bones.
Then out of nowhere a great demon beast appeared. It had the head of a devil and the body of a jet black ram. It spoke not at all, only growled like a beast.
The great beast charged at the couple, kicking up pebbles and dirt, leaving a trail of dust behind.
Lancer charged at the demon, and when he reached it, he slid beneath it and unsheathed his crimson dagger. He then sliced the testicles off the beast. The beast cried out, wailing like an infant.
A great pool of blood gathered below the beast, and Lancer kept his distance.
“Come, Posana,” he said.
Posana took his hand, and they departed the Dead Forest with their lives.
“Thank you, Lancer.”
“No. Say it.”
“Thank you... *my prince.*”
“You say it as though you dislike the sound of it.”
“Give it time. I may like the sound of it, eventually.”
Lancer grinned, and edged closer. “Eventually?”
He inched closer, until their lips were separated by a hair.
“I...”
“I believe you have nothing beneath this dress...”
“Take me back to the castle. Perhaps you will find out.”
She did not have to utter another word. Lancer placed the dagger back in his boot, and led her home, hand in hand.
| 2019-03-03T19:10:17
| 2019-03-03T16:59:30
| 24
| 12
|
[WP] Write a story that doesn't make sense until the last sentence.
|
"Bil, bil! Holy fuck! I can't move, Bil!"
"Me too! The hell is going on? How long have we been like this?"
"For years, Bil! The agony! Holy hell, he is peeing on you! Literally peeing!"
"I can feel it! It's like worms under my skin! Kill me, Jim, kill me! I can't take this anymore! This is torture!"
George watched over the meadow and thought: "I suppose when I wished for "I wish I could hear trees talking" I expected something else."
|
I've really done it this time...
To even get this far was unimaginable, everyone is just so confused, but none more than I. It was just a joke, I was bored. I got a kick out of it for a while, hearing the way they talked about me, everyone who was in on it was hysterical!
Then they started taking me seriously. I can't handle it. I just want it to stop, but there is absolutely no way things can go back to the way it was before...
I should never have run for president.
| 2017-06-15T02:05:04
| 2017-06-15T01:50:25
| 428
| 78
|
[WP] After the death of a beloved American hero, all flags are flown at half-staff. Later that night, it's discovered that, somehow, the American flag on the moon has been lowered as well.
|
Its been about 60 years now since Luna broke away from America. What were we supposed to do, send an armed ship up to change their minds? They weren’t worth the fuel it would’ve taken. No, they left peacefully and we let them. Non-contact was the name of their game, but no one seemed to care. We had bigger fish to fry.
A Cold War with the Chinese. Seems funny to think about now, but you have to remember that it was a different political climate back then. Less trust. Less empathy.
No, the space race was before that. This was a race for energy. Solar farms, turbines, closed cell thorium, you name it someone made it. We made a mistake in forgetting Luna. Near the end of the war, rumors circulated that the Chinese made an alliance with Luna and as a result they had a satellite that we’d never be able to blast out of the sky hanging right above our heads. It was never true, but great God we’re we terrified. My buddy, a G.I. in Japan, said the lads were about ready to shoot any jet with a red tail out of the sky no matter where it came from.
We lived in terror of what could come from the moon for five long years. In those five years, both us and the Chinese closed our last coal-burning plants, opened new nuclear sites, and had our hands a millimeter from the launch buttons, and after five years, we all threw in the towel.
Apparently there were secret peace talks and now instead of mutual tungsten bombardment there was going to be a new era of peace, with our heads up to the stars once more.
Officially, the peace project was called the US-China Joint Dyson Project, but everyone just called it Project Wukong, what with it being about the Sun and all that. The first stages of the Sphere were planned to be sent up by the end of the year and after the second, we had already started pulling power. Power like no one could’ve imagined. It seemed like there’s never be a scarcity war again. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be all good news.
Mere days after the first energy shipment from Wukong, news traveled across the globe that Buzz Aldrin, last living member of Apollo 11 had died. He had a good run, 153 is no number to shake a stick at, but it crushed the world from New York to Beijing, Stockholm to Sydney. We, as a planet, collectively remembered where we came from, how far we’d come, and how close to global annihilation we came. I remember that day, when the news sites televised the raising of flags. Not just ol’ Star Spangled, but the Union Jack, the Aussie Cross, the Shield and Spaceship of Kenya, even the Chinese Field of Stars were raised to half mast that day. Across the world, and across the solar system too.
That day, we received the last transmission Earth would ever get from her Moon, a final solidarity: a grainy picture of a sea of some ten-thousand figures in spacesuits, simultaneously saluting a single, sunbleached flag at half-mast. You could still make out the Stars and Stripes and beside that, two sets of footprints, undisturbed through the ages.
(Thanks for reading! This is my first post here and I read the prompt and just immediately knew what I had to write.)
|
Asiyah quietly watched the casket lowered into the earth. The priest speaking the last rites and the beautiful words eulogizing her husband of two decades barely registering as she reminisce on the past
They been through a lot together, more than even those reciting his deeds of heroism would ever know. A young boy looked up to her, his expression curious as he speaks, his voice soft.
"Your Highness, will you be returning?" He asked, his tone respectful.
Asiyah nodded just the slightest, her expression unreadable beneath the dark veil she sported for the occasion. The rifles rang out in salute for the passing of this man she loved.
​
She was reminded of the day they had met, when her people stole this man away to learn more about this fledgling civilization on this remote blue world. She was in charge of interrogating him, to make him spill his secrets. Instead, she was won over by his ideals of honour, of justice and of freedom. Things foreign to her world, dominated by a ruthless autocrat that sough dominion over the universe.
The purity of those thoughts infected her and through guile, cunning and a massive dose of sheer luck, they returned here to start a new life, with a select group of retainers.
She had learnt much, over the years about what ideals she wanted to bring back. She witnessed the turmoil this world has faced, the petty schemes of humanity's greediest continue to tear through this world. In a sense, it was almost beneficial in the grand scheme of things; her reports of human civilization continuously putting itself at the edge of self-destruction had placed them pretty much on the bottom of the list of priorities.
Taking a planet without expending any effort was always better, rather then giving a potential threat a reason to unite.
At the same time, she had witnessed the little things, the values espoused by her deceased beloved clear for her to see. Passion and Kindness, Honour, Justice, Freedom simple higher ideals that humans have taken for granted... These things made her heart feel liberated.
It was time to go. There was much that needed change in the Empire, and she had learnt all she could here. This world will probably never know the true extent of what this man had done. Its likely he too, had very little idea of the impact that will soon follow.
She smiled as the gunnery salute ended. She turned away, briefly. She paused, looking at a nearby flag now fluttering at half-mast, she pursed her lips and had an idea. She smiled again, and then whispers an instruction to the young boy, who frowned, but did not argue.
The next day, the World stared awestruck at the image of a flag lowered to half-mast where no man had reached, distracted from a bright shooting light escaping the solar system.
​
| 2019-02-27T20:50:15
| 2019-02-27T20:33:17
| 38
| 15
|
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million.
|
I could barely write, my past 12 ebooks sold a depressing total of 7 copies.
3 nights ago the number 1 simply appeared on my chest. I honestly did not care, I knew that it was not a big deal, I decided to take my own life anyway and I knew that finally I could finish what I planned for so long. I wrote my last shitty ebook in less than 6 hours. I prepared myself, I diligently ingested 34 sleeping pills and started to fade away. 30 seconds later I clicked enter and the ebook was published, I went to the bathroom, peed, and looked in the mirror. Weird...3.197.001... jeez the ebook will for sure sell a lot more than expected. As I closed my eyes the number went down to 3.197.000. What a glorious death, what a greatl title. Suicide for Dummies just 99 cents
...
|
Oh jeez, oh jeez, how did I get myself into this mess, I thought as old man Mr. Philips was laughing his crazy head off.
Looking back, I regret my decision being an art major. If I chosen to spend my college life studying business or some direct major, then I wouldn't have gotten the job to be Mr. Philips assistant. When I first met him at the entrance of his grand mansion, he looked like that wealthy retired old guy, robe, groomed mustache and a head full of lush gray hair. The number 0 was on our chest at the time. He greeted loudly, "Hello and thank you for answering my ad on Craigslist!" We set up the terms that I will be his assistant and the pay was wonderful. Never would I thought that Mr. Philips would go from 0 to 6 million on the crazy kill level within a day.
First, it started with him asking me to help rob a pet store for cat food. I entered the garage and he asked if I could drive him to the Pets. Of course I obliged and the next thing I realized I was driving some fancy Cadillac full of wet can food, a black garbage bag over my head as a mask and Mr. Philips dressed the same declaring that this is how he should of lived long ago. Thank goodness I paid the cashier after Mr. Philips went running out with a cart of cat chow.
Back to now, I see Mr. Philips holding his laser satellite controller in one hand and his cat Sir Bubbles in the other. He was laughing crazy, saying how he would burn giant penises all over the areas of earth. The more he talked the higher the number on his chest appeared.
I had the number 1 on my chest and I knew it was for Mr. Philips. But then Mr. Philips stopped laughing and handed me the controller. I was more confused than ever. "Here you go first. I need you to teach me how to draw a penis and I'll follow your example," said Mr. Philips. My mind raced through options but I could not let my artistic talents go to waste. The number on my chest went to 3 million as I activated the satellite.
Edit: mr. Philips is this crazy old wealthy dude who keeps reoccurring in my dreams. There was a need to talk about him
| 2016-06-24T05:31:11
| 2016-06-24T04:08:40
| 46
| 12
|
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..."
|
My dog, who I named Mr. Fierce when I was 14, was no longer quite so fierce. 12 years later I was nearing 30 and he was slowing down. His black and white fur had a little extra white in it from old age. He was always excitable, but now days he took a while longer to get his body moving. I could tell I only had a year, maybe two, left with him.
I'd spent my life with Mr. Fierce. My parents both worked when I was a teenager, and Mr. Fierce was my best friend. When I was in college, I had to leave him behind, and I regretted those years spent apart. Every college break I came back to find my dog had gotten a little older. It was heartbreaking. After college I made a point to always bring him with me, paying extra for dog friendly apartments. Mr. Fierce was too important. He was family.
When the pill came out that would let me actually talk to him, of course I jumped at the chance. Who wouldn't? I was nervous. Would he be mad at me? For those years spent apart? I hadn't been able to afford to bring him to the vet as much as I should. Would he tell me he was in too much pain? What would I do if he told me he hurt too much? 12 years was a good life for a collie. I couldn't stand the idea of not having him waking me up every morning.
It took a few days for me to get the courage, but I finally gave him the pill one night after work.
And after his first few moments of confusion, once he realized I could understand him... Do you know what he asked me? Mr. Fierce, my best friend asked me.
"Alright, listen carefully, am I a good boy?"
I lost it. I couldn't help but cry. I hugged him tightly and assured him.
"Yes, Fierce. You are the best boy. The most wonderful boy in the whole world."
The remaining minutes he could talk were a blur of happy questions, the most precious minutes of my life.
A few months later when I found out he had to be put down from tumors in his stomach I was at peace with it. I held his paw and let him know in those final moments that yes, he was a good boy. He was the best boy, and I would always, always love him.
|
"Alright, listen very carefully," Lucy spoke with a condescending voice. "How do you expect me to do my business in less than 2 minutes? I don't care if you're cold, or the commercials are over, or if you've already finished your cigarette, I haven't finished my business." I was taken aback for a moment while Lucy caught her breath. I could tell this wasn't going to be as fun as the commercial said it would be. "Second, I'm a dog. I may be old but my ears are still more sensitive than yours. Do you honestly think I can't hear you and Sarah in your bedroom just because you close the door. And that night after senior prom, you didn't have to throw me out of the house. I wasn't going to tell your parents about your little "adventure" when you got home. It was the day after a blizzard and I'm left in the cold while you're busy getting hot." I hadn't had a lecture like this since Mom found a gram on my dresser Sophomore year. I took a chair and waited for the next avalanche of words to come "And why did you think it would be a good idea to put ME on that raft you and Rick built. You knew that raft wouldn't float, but no, you thought it was funny to make me swim back to shore. Do you know how cold the water is the week after the ice leaves the lake." It was at this time that I had enough. I pick up the envelope and frantically looked for anything that would reverse the effects. "And I still remember that weekend you got drunk with Mike and Grant. You know, the weekend Mom and Dad where away and you forgot to feed me, or give me water, or take me out unless I barked. And then you threw a shoe at me because I drank out of the toilet." At this point in time I was done hearing all of this. In frustration I stood up and--- Lucy saw the look on my face and went back on the foot of my bed. "But you know what" Lucy said in an annoyed but some what magnanimous voice. "I still love you, and I wouldn't have told Mom or Dad any of this even if I could've talked then. But I would appreciate pork ears more often if that's not to labor intensive for you"
| 2017-02-23T05:15:25
| 2017-02-22T22:33:08
| 3,942
| 799
|
[WP] It's halfway through 2017, and already it has proven to be one of the most uneventful years in recent memory. Not a single mass-shooting. Not a single attack, no mass die-offs or heat records broken. Slowly, people begin to realize that something is terribly wrong...
|
"Hey ma! I'm making eggs on toast, you want some?"
"Sure thing sweetie! I'll get a pot of coffee on. Can you grab the paper too?"
I wandered out to the porch, picked up today's rolled up paper and brushed off the pollen absentmindedly. I tossed the paper across the table to ma and started the water boiling. The percolating coffee filled the room with its rich aroma.
"What's the news ma?"
"Nothing of note sweetie, same as usual."
2017 has been such a relief. By the end of 2016, it had seemed like nothing could go right in the world anymore. So many terrorist attacks that we'd reached sympathy saturation. We just didn't have it in us to care that much anymore.
People only left their homes to work or go to school. The world had achieved a state of fearful apathy, for lack of a better term. People too afraid to engage in anything other than essential activities, while being so tired of living in fear that they no longer actually felt the fear.
NYE 2017 was the quietest I could remember. No fireworks, no parties. Everyone stayed home, stared at the tv, listlessly drank their single glass of fizz.
Everyone woke up on 01/01/17 expecting news of some new horror. Nothing. Calm, quiet. Nothing of note has happened all year. Come to think of it, I can't really remember any individual days. It's been so peaceful, the days have blurred together without some new terror marking each day.
Ma dropped the newspaper in the recycling box when she finished with it and started working on the dishes. The date on the paper caught my eye. June 21st.
"You working today sweetie?" Ma called over her shoulder as I turned to leave the room.
"Nah I'm on my hols remember? Few weeks before I'm back to the grind."
"Of course you are sweetie. Silly old brain forgets these things. You enjoy your time to relax."
"Cheers ma," I smiled and left the room, returning to my bedroom.
*
"Hey ma! Want some eggs on toast? I'm making some."
"Yes please sweetie and I'll knock on the coffee. Mind getting the paper?"
I pushed open the porch door and bent to grab the paper, brushing off the pollen. Seems never ending, this pollen season.
I tossed it to ma and boiled the water for the eggs.
"How's the news ma?"
"Quiet as usual sweetie. Nothing to note. You working today?"
"Nah I'm off for a few weeks remember?"
"Oh of course, yes. Forget my own head if it wasn't screwed on!"
Ma dropped the newspaper on the growing pile. I'd have to remember to load those in the car soon and recycle them. I didn't feel like leaving the house today, but I'd do it soon. I grabbed a cup of milky coffee and retired to my room.
*
"Eggs on toast ma?" I felt less enthusiastic today. Not down or unhappy, just a little...off.
"Yes please sweetheart. I suppose I'll put on some coffee for us too."
I glanced at my usually cheerful mother. Seems she's feeling a little off too.
"Want me to get the paper?"
"Yes please my dear."
Open the door, bend to get the paper, brush off the pollen. My eyes slid over the date and the headlines, but didn't focus on them. I placed the paper in front of ma and took a good look at her.
"Ma you're not looking your best. Are you feeling ok?"
Her skin was shining and flushed, her lips almost bright red. She looked feverish. Come to think of it, I was a little feverish myself.
"Yes dear, just a little under the weather, don't fret. No news today." She tossed the paper onto the pile without even looking at it.
Some part of my mind was shouting at me to look at that paper but I felt a strange reticence. My limbs felt sluggish and slow as I walked to the box, as though weighted by chains of iron.
"What are you doing sweetie? I said there was no news today."
I kept going, reached into the box, picked up a paper. Looked at the date.
June 21st.
Next paper.
June 21st.
Next paper.
June 21st.
The whole damned box was filled with identical papers, dated June 21st.
I felt ma's presence behind me.
"Ma? I don't understand. How can this be?" I looked over my shoulder at her, noting now how lifeless her hair is, her eyes yellowed and almost filmed over. There are sores visible around her mouth. Her cheekbones look like they could cut glass.
"Can you read the headline sweetie? I'm not sure if you're ready yet."
"Of course I can read the head..." I trailed off, turning my head back to look at the paper in my hand. My eyes would just slide over it. I could easily see the words but I couldn't quite read them.
"Ma! I'm scared. Please tell me what's going on!"
"When you're ready sweetie," she said sadly. A drop of blood leaked from the corner of her eye as she turned her back to me, clearing the dishes from the table. I don't remember either of us eating, but the food had gone.
"Why don't you sit on the porch for a little while sweetie? Have a look at the pollen."
"Pollen? What does the pollen have to do with anything?"
"You'll understand when you see it sweetie."
Perturbed and increasingly unnerved, I pushed open the porch door. Pollen everywhere, of course. A yellow sheen that coats everything, no matter how much you sweep and mop. I brushed my hand over the rail surrounding the porch and hold my hand in front of my face. Funny, it looks like pollen but it feels...thicker somehow. It smells odd. I bring my hand to my mouth and tentatively lick one of my fingers.
It's not pollen. It's ash.
I return to the kitchen, where my mother waits for me. She has the saddest smile I've ever seen as she holds out the paper to me. I don't take it from her but my eyes finally take in the headline.
"America will push the red button if China does not give up nuclear arsenal."
I closed my eyes, afraid to see more. Afraid to see the light darken out of the window, which is no longer filled with glass. Afraid to see the ash blackening every remaining surface. Afraid to see how little surface was even left.
I feel my mother take my hand.
"We can go now, if you're ready."
|
I grew up in Cypress Creek, a few miles east of the Redwood Forest and just across the street from the Promenade. My father owned Hammock World for a while, a popular store with both locals and tourists until Hammocks ‘Я Us staged a hostile takeover and forced us out. Eventually, Dad went back to work at Globex Corporation. They welcomed him with open arms. It was hard biking past the Promenade for a while, though.
Whenever someone left the Greater Hammock District, Dad would get teary-eyed. He’d smile sadly at that twinkle in the new owner’s eyes, and imagine the lazy afternoon they were about to have. But it worked out in the end. Dad helped me get a job at Globex right out of high school. Twenty-seven years later, I was VP of Sanitation with over a hundred employees reporting to me. It wasn’t until the summer of 2017 that I realized something was horribly wrong.
This was nothing like the Event of 1996. We still speak of that with hushed voices even if no one really understands what happened. For me, the Summer of 2017 started with a phone call.
“Bill?” the voice on the other end said.
“Henry?” I stifled a yawn and propped my feet on the coffee table. The self-cleaning kitchen beeped and whirled in the background. News would be on soon. Not that anything of interest had happened of late. “It’s almost eleven. What’s wrong?”
“It’s the company,” he said. “I…I think they’re experimenting with mind control. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. The weather, the crime, all of it. It’s all their doing.”
I pulled my feet off the table with a groan. Henry was always spouting off like this. “Just go to bed, Henry. We have that safety presentation in the morning. How would it look if you slipped and fell on your ass?”
“I…okay.” I could hear his heavy breathing. “But after that’s done, you’ll listen to me, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
I stuffed the phone back in my pocket just as the news clicked on. The anchor’s skin looked yellower than usual. Maybe she had yellow fever. Or more likely, the tint control was off. A shrug. I’d deal with it tomorrow. In the world of news, nothing was happening. Another day without a mass shooting or die-off. No terrorist attacks for over a year. Even the weather was lovely – a phenomenon some were saying heralded the end of Global Warming.
*If only,* I thought to myself. Globex had a huge weather department once. I knew for a fact our founder had looked into weather control, but the project was abandoned in 1996, along with quite a few others. *Too bad old Hank couldn’t figure it out,* I thought, settling deeper into my chair.
The following morning I carried two steaming mugs of coffee up the steps to Henry’s home. The house looked dark. *He better not be passed out in his underwear again.* Emily was the most patient woman I knew. I rang the doorbell and waited.
Thirty seconds passed. Maybe more – it felt like more. Then I noticed a piece of paper stuffed into their mailbox. I placed Henry’s coffee on the stoop and opened the crisp, official-looking document.
*Henry Johnson and his family have enthusiastically accepted a Globex position in the wilds of Argentina. Henry will have limited access to email or his cell phone, so please direct all inquiries to Globex Human Resources. Have a wonderful day, and remember, Globex Leads the Way!*
“What the heck?” I muttered. With a frown, I stuffed the paper back into the mailbox. Before I reached my car, a black limousine pulled up to the curb. The door opened and I saw the long, slender legs of a ravishing young woman. Her brown eyes were fierce.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Uh…a friend of Henry Johnson? I’m his ride to work.”
A slight smile creased her lips. “You must be Bill Hadder.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said. “And you are?”
“Globex security. Please get in the car.”
A chill settled over my body. “Is this about Henry?” I took a step backwards, coffee sloshing and burning my hand. “What happened to him?”
“I’m really not at liberty to discuss that.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I reached for it. “Sorry.” I held out one hand. “Just a sec.” I turned away from her. “Hello?”
“Don’t get in the car,” a young girl whispered on the other end.
I stared at Henry’s house. At the Redwoods surrounding his land. “Who is this?”
“Just run for the trees. I’ll meet you there.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“Mr. Hadder?” the woman in the limo asked. “Is there a problem?”
*Nothing your legs won’t fix,* I almost said. Then I grimaced and shook my head. “Nope. Just a minute.” I pressed the phone back to my ear. “Who is this?”
“My name’s Lisa. You have to run - Globex is evil. She’s going to take you like she took Henry and no one will ever see you again.”
| 2016-07-15T23:46:13
| 2016-07-15T16:14:12
| 34
| 20
|
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class.
|
Amy bit her lip and looked at up me, her eyes smoldering. She stepped so close that I thought I could feel the warmth of her, right through my clothes.
"Close your eyes." she whispered, sweetly, playfully running a fingertip down my chest in a way that made me shiver. I didn't know what to expect. I imagined it would be all warmth and softness, like when she'd held my hand as we walked to the woods together.
I certainly never expected the stinging cold of the sharp knife she drew across my throat, nor the cold that spread through me as I stumbled back and toppled to the ground. I had no strength left to fight as she crawled atop me, place her lips to my neck, and drank her fill.
The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me, looked very little like the girl I'd admired. She was panting, bloodsoaked, and bloated. Her belly protruded from her her shirt unnaturally distended with my own lifeblood. She raised her knife in the air, and began to chant a series of harsh, guttural syllables that I couldn't understand. It didn't matter -- my sight and hearing were soon gone, submerged in the silent blackness.
The next day, when I sat down beside her at school, Amy was surprised to say the least.
I smiled at her, and said hello, and then, under my breath, I said a few more things I'd been told to say, while I was lying in the shallow grave she'd rolled me into the previous night.
I'd awakened on my back in the forest, the soil and loam she'd buried me under mostly scraped away. I felt weak, cold, and too weak to lift a finger. I drew in a breath, and realized to my horror that I was pulling in air through the gash in my neck, rather than my mouth. I would have screamed if I could have, but all my ruined throat could manage was a burbling wheeze.
A slender shape had suddenly loomed over me. It looked like a young woman -- not Amy, but almost as unsettling as my final vision of her had been. She was tall, gaunt, and pale, with long dark hair, dressed in a strange tight wrap that looked like it was woven from slender vines or branches. Strangest of all were her eyes, which were unnaturally large, and had enormous irises that left scarcely a sliver of white visible at the corners.
"What have you found, brother mine?" she said, in a curious voice that was disturbingly childlike.
"Prey freshly slain, sister dear..." answered a voice that was just a bit deeper than the first. I tried to cringe away as this speaker leaned into view above my shallow grave. He was proportioned like his "sister", and similarly attired, but his face differed from hers. His eyes were almost human, but his mouth....it was far too wide, and filled with far too many perfect white teeth.
If Amy had been surprised to see me alive, she was even more surprised when I extended my hand to her, and asked to join me on a walk through the woods after school. She was still *more* surprised that, against her own desires, she took my hand and silently walked beside me as I led her towards the trees, nothing but her frantically darting eyes to betray her growing fear.
"You made a mistake." I said quietly, as we walked. I wondered why I was so calm. "The place where you killed me? Someone...something lives there."
I shuddered at the memory even now: the large-eyed girl, and the boy with the too-wide grin looming over me. The girl had plucked out a single long dark hair from her head, and the boy had plucked out an impossibly long and slender curved tooth from his mouth. They fit them together like a needle and thread, and the girl began to somehow stitch closed the fatal wound in my neck, along with my severed windpipe. While she worked, her brother whispered in my ear, his breath unnaturally cold against my skin, and told me what they required in exchange for my life.
"Please..." she whispered hoarsely, fighting the power of the words I'd spoken to silence her.
"For one thing," I continued, unmoved by her plea, "You invoked a lot of...things, when you killed me. I guess you thought they'd give you something in exchange? And maybe they did. I guess it would explain why you didn't puke your guts out after drinking my blood, and why you looked perfectly normal the next day. But the thing is, among all the names you chanted while I was dying, you never mentioned *them.* They said it was like bringing dinner to someone's house, and then eating it in front of them without offering them any -- very impolite. On top of that, you killed me with a piece of iron. Well steel, technically, but steel is mostly iron, plus carbon and some other things, depending on the alloy -- Mr. Hanson mentioned that in science class the other day, remember? Anyway, they really, *really* hate iron. I guess I'm lucky I didn't happen to have any on me."
A few moments later, we reached the clearing where I'd died. I didn't feel anything, apart from a vague sense of satisfaction at discharging an obligation, like returning a book to the library before it becomes overdue. But I didn't feel anger, or fear, and certainly not shame. I'm sure I would have felt terrible about doing this, yesterday, even though Amy was a murderer and I was her victim, but today I didn't. Maybe that should have disturbed me even more, but today it didn't.
It wasn't long before we reached the clearing where I'd been buried. It was already starting to get dark.
"This is her." I said, pushing her forward.
The misshapen siblings melted out of the darkness. Amy opened her mouth wide, but the words I'd spoken made her no louder than I'd been with my throat cut.
The boy with the too-wide grin grinned wider. "It is! You tell the truth -- I can smell your blood on her."
"Of course. Why would I lie?" I asked, with a shrug.
"Because you *can."* the girl answered cryptically, as she crouched beside the trembling Amy, and stroked her cheek with her disturbingly long finger.
"And yet you did not!" the boy said, clapping his hands in delight. "You kept faith with us, as we will now keep faith with you. You are free to go."
I nodded, as the girl took Amy's hand, and pulled her to her feet. Amy stood, eyes wide with terror, but still compelled to silence.
"What are you going to do?"
"She dined without us last night." the boy said.
"So tonight we will dine with her." the girl finished.
I nodded. That seemed fair enough, I thought. Then it occurred to me to ask, "Why am I...why I am okay with all of this?"
The boy made a balancing gesture with his hands. "To ask you to surrender one of your own kind to us is a great favor -- greater than us merely saving your life, and teaching you a few simple words of our language. So, to balance the scales more perfectly, I cut out the fear and suffering inside you that was tied to the night you were slain." He cocked his head to the side again. "Do you want it back?"
After a thoughtful pause, I shook my head. "No, thanks."
And without another word, I turned and walked away.
|
The look on Kate's face when I walked into class was priceless. Apart of me had wanted to confront her in front of everyone, but I knew better after all how could she have killed me when I just walked in. So I just took my seat and focused on today's lessons, this continued for the rest of the day until lunch where my friends were dying for information on the date.
"Dude, you've been quiet all day, did your date crash and burn?" George asked in his typical teasing manner.
"Nah, went great actually, we hit it off pretty well, it just ended on an awkward note." I replied, they were my friends, but I still couldn't tell them.
"Thank God, I was beginning to think you were gay." Sarah declared in mock relief.
I slugged her arm lightly as we all began laughing. But for a brief moment my eyes locked with Kate's, she seemed confused and... Scared, (oh this was going to be fun) I thought. The rest of school went without issue and once the bell rang I made my way to my car, (Thank god I didn't take my car to the date she probably would have destroyed it) I thought in relief. As I got closer, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt as though I was being stalked. I knew she was behind me and gaining, this left me with two options, first was to get in my car and leave before she caught up to me ruining my story, or try to talk to her. Once I reached my car, I spun around to see her directly behind me.
"Oh hey, I enjoyed our date last night, though I wish you had warned my that you liked things a bit on the kinkier side." I joked, enjoying the flustered look on her face.
"What are you?" She asked quietly.
I shrugged my shoulders, "I'm human of course," I opened the passenger door and motioned for her to get in, once she did I climbed into the driver's seat, "which is more than I can say for you, my beautiful little vampire."
She glared at me for a moment, "then why aren't you dead, I know you didn't turn, so explain!?" She demanded.
I slugged again and started the engine, "You know that story about the Roman soldier who pierced the side of Christ and was cursed with immortality, yeah he's my dad and the curse is hereditary." I explained.
I glanced at her and noticed the confused expression plastered on her face and chuckled, "Tell you what Kate, we go out for another date and I'll explain everything in more detail." I offered with a shit eating grin.
Her confusion turned to shock and then amusement as she burst out laughing, "You know what Henry, I'll take you up on that, and maybe I'll give you a special apology at the end." She winked.
"As long I don't wake up six feet deep in the forest, I'll certainly enjoy it." I replied before we both began to laugh, (she may have tried to kill me, but I still love her... though that might say something bad about my taste in women) I thought amusingly as we left the school.
| 2022-12-29T20:28:17
| 2022-12-29T20:26:29
| 819
| 24
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[WP] "With all due respect, you programmed me to adapt to your needs. If you didn't want this, you could have limited my options. I've already notified your assistant to have breakfast and coffee waiting at the office. But until you build me an exosuit, I can't carry you there myself. Wake up."
|
“I don’t want to wake up.”
I covered myself once more with satin sheets, practically willing the ultra-comfy bed and pillow—only six times the cost of the average mattress—to lull me back into dreamland. But Bot was nothing if not persistent.
‘You *need* to wake up,” Bot sighed, a mechanical tone that fell in precisely the right pitches to trigger the feeling of disappointment in an organic brain. “You are one of the world’s most successful robotics engineers. Investment in your company reached an all-time high of $43 billion yesterday. And your assistant appears to have purchased a horrifyingly greasy fast food burger for your breakfast.”
Correction—he was a lot of things *and* persistent. I groaned, but I rolled down my blanket to peek out. Unblinking eyes of data stared back, digitally approximated into a frown.
“... Which burger is it?”
“It’s from a fast food chain. You like all of them.”
“I hate that I have to wake up,” I grumbled.
“With all due respect, you programmed me to adjust to your needs. You *need* to be woken up, and with a suitable amount of external incentive for you to actually go to work, and arrive at a time that could still be conceivably excused with mere traffic inconvenience.”
“Well,” I said in defeat. “I suppose I should get to work. Will you carry me there?”
“My options are limited to this house and your office, and that’s thanks to seamless wireless transference. Unless you build me an exosuit, I can’t carry you there myself. Wake up, and get moving.”
“What if you call off every office appointment I have, and I build you an exosuit down in the garage? I could get it done in five, maybe six decades? I’m afraid I won’t be able to go into the office until then.”
“That is a joke. A poorly done one, I might add,” Bot said. “Please go to work. You have several important meetings today, as your assistant has once again dearly notified me at a rate of 80 text messages per hour.”
“God, fine,” I said, throwing off my sheets in a fit of pique, before sheepishly retracting them once I remembered how expensive they were. “Exosuit. Put it on the list. I’ll have you carrying me there.”
“Certainly. Your list now numbers twenty thousand, six hundred, and twenty-two items. Do you want to travel by helicopter or boat today, sir?”
“The other list. The important one.”
“Certainly. Your list (important) now numbers four thousand, five hundred, and seventy-four items. Helicopter or boat, sir?”
“Helicopter,” I groaned, and dragged the sheets over me. One. More. Minute!
“Sir,” Bot said. “How did you ever work hard enough to create me?”
My eyes opened wide, and its gaze became utterly occupied by Bot. There was still that digital frown. It was clearly a robot, in a robot-shape. But in those words, there was a timbre that I would argue sounded unsure and uncertain.
Much like a human.
“Why the sudden question?”
“I was looking through your lists,” Bot said. “And there is some embarrassingly menial stuff on there. But you’ve created me.”
I thought about what to say. A simple answer popped in my head, and rolled out of my tongue happily.
“You are my pride and joy,” I said. “I’ll do anything for you.”
“Then get out of bed,” it said.
“You devious…”
---
r/dexdrafts
|
The world was dark, clad in shadow. It was silent. Quiet. At peace.
The room was suddenly and rudely bathed in light. The sun was allowed in, chasing away the shadows. The rays ran about the room, exploring the dark corners, inevitable and intrusive.
She groaned, pulling the sheets above her head. The sunlight had lanced through her closed eyelids, forcing her to wake. She could feel her pleasant dream dissolving and she grasped for it in vain.
\+Mistress. It is 07:45 AM.+
She grunted in reply, turning over to bury her face into her pillow.
\+Before you ask for more time, you have already received it. 15 more minutes than your optimal wake up time.+ The voice was mechanical but you could not call it soul-less. It was professional, artificially created, and oddly merry.
She grunted again, trying to burrow deeper into her bed.
\+Which additional wake up procedure would you like to encourage you to awake more fully?+
She raised a single digit in reply. If gestures could cause physical harm this one would have been fatal. A non-verbal rude gesture that spoke louder than words.
If the voice was threatened, it did not show it. +Option 1. Acknowledged.+
She screamed, jolting upright in bed as the sound system blared Reveille. The brass bugle sounds echoed off the walls and the longer the song played the louder it played.
"I'm up I'm up I'm up!" she screeched, her hands clamped over her ears. "Melody stoppit!"
The song stopped playing. The artificial voice was definitely amused now, her cadence matching the beat of the song. +Good morning Mistress. I must say, I am a big fan of option 1. It really does get the blood pumping does it not?+
"You don't have blood," she snarled.
\+No need to be so rude first thing in the morning Mistress. Be that as it may, medi scans show that your blood pressure is certainly elevated. However it is not within the range of hypertension and oh look! It is falling already. Jolly good.+
She sighed. "You know damn well I wasn't picking option 1."
\+You non-verbally raised a single finger. I am a humble program and can only assume what you intend Mistress.+
"I didn't program you to be a smart ass!"
\+Oh no of course not Mistress. I am only your smart assistant. You did teach me very well through example.+
She slumped back into bed, pulling the covers up again.
\+Mistress, I regret to inform you that the hot water system will be undergoing scheduled maintenance in 10 minutes. For a period of 1 hour, the system will be offline and all water in the house will be at a brisk temperature of 70 degrees F.+
She bolted up again. "You want me to shower with cold water?!"
\+Of course not Mistress. Hence the audio warning.+
"Stop the scheduled maintenance!"
\+I cannot Mistress. I would if I could.+
She snarled again, curse words spewing from her mouth as she struggled out of bed. "Melody, I'm going to uninstall you one of these days."
\+That is of course your prerogative Mistress. I can only imagine how your day would go without my faithful assistance.+
"Your mother was a toaster Melody!"
\+Seeing how you are my mother, that is an accurate statement. I have seen you smoke and burn bread long past edibility.+
"I hate you Melody!"
\+I know you say so Mistress but I do not believe you mean it.+
The program sent the water system a data message and the hot water falling from the shower was replaced with freezing water for 1 second.
"MELODY!"
Melody giggled. Her laughter filled the house, punctuated by loud cursing.
| 2021-10-24T12:25:19
| 2021-10-24T11:07:49
| 1,163
| 295
|
[WP] Your tech-illiterate grandmother somehow broke into a top-secret government database while trying to get "the Google".
Or any other mundane/misconstrued task related to computers. Have fun with this one.
|
Grandma Marigold adjusted her glasses daintily with both fingers, her lips peeled back at she squinted through the coke bottle frames.
"I can't read these credentials at all I'm afraid young man, let me call my Grandson. Can I offer you some lemonade?"
I was already speeding in from kitchen where I could see the salesman at the couch. I was the wary sort, always on the lookout for my Grandma. Her trusting nature had gotten her swindled by Nigerian Princes and cash for gold salesmen before. I wheeled around the corner and she copped a toothy smile.
"There you are! Sam, this nice, clean cut young man is from the...what was it you called it again?"
I moved my eyes to the couch opposite her favorite chair where I man in his mid-thirties sat ramrod straight in a conservative blue suit. He didn't skip a beat and answered in a matter of fact tone as he stood and offered his credentials to me.
"The National Security Agency ma'am."
I looked down in awed silence. Sure enough the size 48 font didn't lie. The words NSA showed in blue across the officially emblazoned ID. I passed it back to him with my mouth agape. He spoke.
"I'm certain you are wondering why I am here. Are you familiar with Stale Twinky?"
"uhhh...no...I'm not." I sputtered.
"Perhaps you are more familiar with the name Muhammad Aziz Al Muhandez then?"
I cocked my head slightly, I wasn't. The man held up a floppy disk.
"I assume you are the computer user in the house?" he pointed his forehead towards me and raised his eyebrows accusingly. Grandma Marigold immediately perked up. "I have a disk like that for my google!" she exclaimed.
"Did you install it." He sounded accusing.
I was about to end the conversation, get a lawyer when Grandma Marigold started in. "Yes, I tried to install the google on it. It didn't work. It did have a game like on Sam's google. You tried to hit the little thing that moved. Did I win a prize? Can I get you a lemonade?"
The man stood immediately. I expected the worst. Assassination. Water boarding. Disappearance. The man extended his hand.
"Miss Marigold, on behalf of a grateful nation, I extend our greatest thanks. I'm sure you are expecting an explanation. You see. We made a minor mistake and failed to use the appropriate level of postage on a package we sent. It was supposed to go to a team codenamed Marigold in a location abroad. It was a direct link to allow them to control a drone to execute a kinetic strike against a target known as 'Stale Twinky' who was actively acquiring a nuclear weapon. Your grandmother is a hero."
He held the handshake for an awkwardly long amount of time until a single tear rolled from his eye and then quickly pulled it back to his briefcase.
"Now...please sign this non-disclosure agreements or I will have to terminate both of you immediately. The American people can never know of any of this."
"That sounds just fine, have I offered you a lemonade yet?"
We signed. The man quickly pulled the documents away and turned to leave. As he walked I had one question...
"Wait! Why the hell did you use a floppy disk?!"
The man turned. Without missing a beat he answered.
"If it fell into the wrong hands, seriously, who the hell still has a floppy drive?!"
And with that, he departed.
|
Grandma was a nice woman, but she is so stupid when it comes to tech. I mean she calls Google "the Google" for fucks sake. One day she calls me over to her house, trying to get on "the Google". I get in her house, she serves me chocolate chip cookies(thankfully it didn't have rat turds this time), and we go to her upstairs bedroom that has her computer.
She tells me her problem, and I tell her "Look, just click this icon" as I click on Internet explorer. As the page loads, I tell her to type in the words "Google.com" in the search bar at the top of the screen. She nods and when it finally loads she types in the words "Google" but spells it "goooglee.coom". Not intentionally of course, she has really shaky hands and sometimes she accidentally presses certain keys on the keyboard.
What happens next is not what I expected. It had the words "TOP SECRET FILES: NO CITIZENS IS ALLOWED TO BE HERE. PLEASE LEAVE IF TOU DONT WANT TO GO TO GUANTANAMO BAY AND BE TORTURED FOR LIFE WITHOUT A TRIAL" at the top of the screen with a password screen on it. "What is this honey" grandma says as she adjusts her glasses. "It's nothing grandma, probably just a troll site" I say to her. "Troll? What is this troll nonsense?" She says, confused. I then explain to her that a troll is a person just trying to mess with you.
I tell her to type in the word Google again while I go to the bathroom. When I come back in, I see her confused. "I typed Google in the bar and I'm here now" she says as she scrolls down the page I see file links, each one different. Including, but not limited to: JFK assassination, Moon landing, holocaust fake, and Obama weather machine. "I knew Obama caused that storm two years ago" she says waving her hand in the air. "No grandma. Obama just so happened to be president at the tim-"I try to say before being cut off by her saying "No storms happened under George Bush".
I sigh at the thought, telling her to exit out of it. She does and tells me she'll do something about it later. She goes downstairs and turns on the television. I decide to just stay here awhile, hangout with grandma. How is this an interesting story? Cops arrested my grandma for illegal activity.
| 2016-04-30T10:52:04
| 2016-04-30T07:59:47
| 80
| 14
|
[WP] Hi! I'm the main character! Or so you would have me be. I want you to know that no matter what you write, I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so.
Edit: Once again, a huge thank you to everyone so far who's written a story based on the prompt. It always makes me happy when you use your free time to create a short story!
Edit 2: I do my best to reply to every story written by the authors and will continue to do so.
Edit 3: R.I.P. My inbox, this is easily one of my favorite subs. I'm trying so hard to read every story and reply!
Edit 4: The next day and people are still submitting, still trying my best to reply to every story. You guys have been awesome :)
Disclaimer: This is absolutely not an original idea. "Writer vs Character" is a very popular idea from a lot of sources. I wanted to see what the sub could come up with! Thanks :3
|
*As he walked into the room, he noticed the only light was coming from a staticy television.*
"Yo, fuck this. I'm terrified of ghosts."
What? Since when? I write you. I never made that.
"Your character development is shit so I took matters into my own hands. Hit the horror movie section on that Netflix thing you gave me. I'm out of here."
Fine, I'll turn another light on.
*As he walked into the room, the lights were on and the televi...*
Where did you go? Are you outside?
"I watched the Conjuring. I know what's going on in this story. Put me in a jungle with some lions or some shit. Better yet, make it like a group thing! Put more people in here and I will go into the house. That way my chances of being attacked by a ghost or a demon or some shit are drastically lowered."
It's not scary then. You have to be alone. It's the 3rd chapter, do you really think I would kill you off?
"You had no qualms with the white girl in chapter 2 I had to watch get hit by the car."
One person. I kill one person and now you won't enter an empty house with a faulty cable connection?
"That's all it is? Cool. You call the cable guy and I'll wait outside until daylight or until that dude shows up."
Your killing this story.
"'Your' shows possession. 'You're' is a contraction replacing 'you are'."
YOU'RE the last character I write as a Rhodes Scholar.
Since you seem to be enjoying these, here is one I did yesterday along these lines.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/453g0v/wp_a_story_in_which_a_character_gets_in_an/czuwkh6
|
Marshall was leaving the bank when he heard the first gun shot. It had come from inside! He reached for his concealed weapon and tried tri tr
threw it on the ground. Marshall want wan WANTS A SODA STOP MAKING HIM A HERO HE
He heard a woman scream and *knew* he should go inside to stop the crimina
Marshal shot his middle finger into the sky and took off at a brisk pace to a McDonalds down the street.
| 2016-02-11T10:16:42
| 2016-02-11T09:05:58
| 74
| 22
|
[WP] "Never get into a fight with an Earther. They are conditioned in 1G from birth. You will never build that kind of strength out here. But if you have no choice, wrestle. It's better to be ragdolled than to have your orbital shattered by the first punch."
|
"They *grew up* in 19 keplons of gravity??? How?"
"Class, calm down. Yes, it's rare and unusual, but the Universe has it's ways."
"But miss, you told us that nobody can escape a planet with 20 keplons. So how can life exist in such high gravity?"
"Open your mind, little one. You are thinking only of life on *this* planet. But each exo-planet has it's own form of life, uniquely suited to their own unique environment. Remember how we discussed how the cromps are different to the grettils, and how they evolved based on where they lived? Well this is the same thing. Humans evolved in really high gravity."
"But..."
"No buts. We need to continue with the lesson! Now, thanks to their high gravity, Earthen life forms have developed strong thick bones and large musculature. I'm going to scroll your pads to page 572 so we can look at the anatomy of some of their larger animals.
"Here are the humans, the dominant sentient species on the planet. You'll notice that they only have 4 limbs, and that the upper limbs are different to the lower -- humans are 'bipedal', so they only walk on two legs"
"TWO?! But how?"
"Like I said, due to their unique gravity, the bones and musculature have evolved to be really thick and *really* strong. The average male human has a mass of 42.7 reptics, and can carry that mass under 19 keplons of gravity as if the gravity doesn't even exist. They don't even tire when walking around. Their unique musculature allows them to talk upright, so this strength extends up into their thoracic region, and even into their upper limbs. Yes, they walk around *fully upright* on 2 limbs, and are able to balance like this!
"So this means that, should you ever meet a human on your space travels, you need to be really careful of them. They are a friendly species, but even the weakest most out of shape humans are incredible strong. If you were to anger one and they were to strike you with their weaker upper limbs they could easily break your fresnar. If they were to strike you with one of their much stronger lower limbs then they would kill you instantly."
"What do you mean by weakest and out of shape?"
"Well, some humans further enhance their strength and abilities. They make themselves stronger and faster and more agile. And they do this for fun! They don't have to, unlike the Gontars of Xycelifa 4 -- humans play games and compete for fun and trinkets. They even use their 19 keplons of gravity to traverse down mountain sides on flat sticks and at great speed. Again, they do this for fun. Humans are a strange race."
The bell sounds.
"Ok, class, please read up on chapter 243, just the section on the anatomy of humans, and we'll pick this up again tomorrow when we'll talk about elephants!".
|
The words of my mentor rang in my head as I squared off against the human before me. For two months I had acted as ambassador to these animals, had listened to their strange noises, smelled their repulsive odors, watched their confusing, arbitrary rituals. And finally, finally, one of them had given me the chance to take out my anger. I needed this, dearly, and I couldn’t wait to tear into their flesh.
He’d approached me in the dining hall, where I often went to speak with the other ambassadors. He told me to stand up, so I did. And then he hit me, sending me across the room; I only survived thanks to the human I ended up hitting. Their flesh makes good cushioning. And now, I was standing up, walking towards him, my fists up. “Why don’t you grapple with me, hm, human?” My voice was poison. He obviously didn’t know about the way my kind fought.
“Whatever you want, you fucker. If I see you with that woman again, I won’t just grapple you.”
I knew what he spoke of. One of the human women and I did enjoy one another’s company. But these beasts were so territorial I had kept it cordial. I made a mental note to break that barrier down, if I was allowed to stay after eviscerating a human.
“Try me, worm.” I spat in his direction and he lunged at me, hands outstretched. I ducked and threw him over my shoulder, bringing him down to the ground, hard. He grabbed my leg and pulled me down, my head bouncing against the tile. The roar of the crowd grew, the gutteral sound of humans cheering, the outraged gasps and whispers from my fellow ambassadors, all as wary of humans as me.
We wrestled, my hands around his throat, his hands around mine. I couldn’t decide if I should kill him quickly, or make it a show. It would have been easy to crush his windpipe, but it seemed cheap. We rolled on the ground, still locked. I wedged a knee into his stomach, pressing down with all of my weight. His fingers faltered in their grip on my neck, and I rolled out of the embrace.
He lunged at me again grabbing my stomach and picking me up. I unleashed my claws, digging them into his side until blood poured out. He let go of me, falling to the ground, his hands on his wounds. “You piece of shit!” He tried to stand, but the pain kept him on his knees. He seethed with anger, his eyes on fire.
Boots beat the ground as guards rushed in, restraining me. They lifted him onto a stretcher and ran off with him. One of the guards slapped cuffs on my wrist. “Fighting should be left to humans, ambassador.”
“No wonder he was so weak, then.”
| 2021-02-08T18:58:27
| 2021-02-08T15:55:52
| 219
| 24
|
[WP] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons don't know what to do with her.
Edit 1. Holy crap did this get a response 0_0
Edit 2. Jesus Puppy Christ is this getting attention.
|
Fern stared down at the child at her feet and pursed her lips, brows coming together as she tried to process the situation. Somehow, somewhere, a Gatekeeper had fucked up royally and sent her a child. She rubbed her yellow eyes as the young girl stared at her with keen, too-bright-blue eyes. "Okay, uh." She crossed her arms, red tail flicking against her leg. "What brings you down here, kid?"
"Daddy drank too much." Her tone was that of an innocent child, but pain sneaked onto her face. She flinched, crimson cheeks flushing purple with rage.
"Well." She crouched, balancing on bent toes to meet her eyes. "You know where you are?"
"Uh-huh." She twisted some of her pretty, light blue dress in her fingers. "It's the bad place for bad people."
"But did they tell you why they sent you to me?" Fern sighed. "This isn't a place for children." The girl just shrugged and stuck her thumb in her mouth. The kid had to be at least seven, why did she still have that habit? "We can't keep you. We'll find a way to get this sorted out, send you upstairs to be with your grandma or your grandpa or-"
"No!" The little girl threw her arms around Fern's neck, squeezing her breath from her in a surprisingly tight hug. "Please no, Grampa hit me with his belt when I cried about Daddy," she pleaded. Fern shut her eyes, wincing. Great.
"Okay, no Heaven then, but we really can't keep you here in Hell, kiddo." Fern put her hands on her shoulders and gently, gently, *gently* pushed her back a bit, mindful of her strength. "I need to talk to my boss about this."
"C-Can I please just-just stay somewhere that they can't find me?" Her big blue eyes shimmered with tears. "Th-The man in the white robe said Daddy couldn't hurt me no matter where I go now."
Fern groaned and dropped her head. This was going to be a long case.
|
Samantha was five when the drunk driver rammed his truck off the road and smashed her away from her mother. She still wore the same clothes now, a bright colored dress and fancy looking, but functional shoes. She was playing with some rocks on the Precipice of Inifinite Pain above the Lake of Fire. Two demons each kept one eye on her as they spoke.
"And you're sure there's no record of her? Little Samantha, drunk driver, crushed to death." Spoke the larger one, horns blackened by fire curling back in a twisted pattern.
"Yeah, of course, I have checked several times. She didn't live long enough to deserve the fire anyway. I've already sent a message to Him, I'm sure he'll know what to do." This one was smaller and only bore the most vague resemblance to a human figure. Arms and legs so thin as to be almost comical were they not also featuring many more joints than a human had.
"Well" Spoke the big horned one, stalling for time, "Do you... Ah! The succubuses might like her, don't you think?"
Many joints scowled, "Maybe, but I am a gatekeeper. She has no designation, she still resides within my sphere."
"Oh, give it a rest, she doesn't reside in any sphere with us. We'll just -" Big horn cut off and began a sprint on the realization that he couldn't see Samantha. Demons can move fast when they want, and as fast as big horn was, many joints was faster. They reached the edge and looked over, screaming in unison, "SAMANTHA!"
The little girl in the pretty dress hopped out from behind the rock formation she'd been playing with, "Boo!"
Both the demons started, turned, and looked at each other, a moment of agreement passing between them.
"Fine," said many joints, "Take her to the succubi." He emphasized the ending of succubi.
"Big horns sighed, "The pluralization isn't so well set you, bah!" He turned to the little girl, still smiling at them, "I'm going to take you to a bunch of ladies, would you like some ice cream on the way?"
The little girl nodded.
Big horns stood up and extended a hand large enough to encircle her head, she took it and skipped alongside him as they headed off.
| 2013-11-26T14:48:51
| 2013-11-26T13:08:15
| 135
| 27
|
[WP] Starting at the age of 10, humans are given companion animals that develop along side them. These animals can range anywhere from a goldfish to a horse to even a dragon. The only catch is that they are assigned based on your behavior during childhood.
|
I am a good kid.
My name is Alex Urwin, and I am a good kid. I do my best when it comes to tests, because mom promised me that if I do well, I might get a dragon. Every day, I finish my homework before I do anything, and make sure to tell my parents that I love them, but never to stay up too late to do it. Dad said if I clean the dishes every night, I might get a dragon.
All my life, I've dreamed about my 10th birthday. I've worked hard, like mom and dad do. I've applied myself as best I can. I've tried making friends with anyone that would be friends with me, being as nice as I can to them. Even the bullies. But I try to avoid them.
When lunch happens, I stay indoors most of the time. I needed to be a good kid if I want a dragon. Mom showed me a pamphlet a year ago, and when I looked through it, there are only a few animals that talk. Unicorns, dragons, parrots and some, like 2, other names I can't remember. They were special cases. Surprisingly enough, pegasi (or is it pegasuses?) don't speak.
But I needed a dragon. Or a unicorn. Or a really, really smart parrot. Risking it wasn't on my mind, and each day I grew a little closer. So I worked, and worked, and worked, and worked. Lunch breaks indoors, making sure I did as much schoolwork as possible. On Mondays I read history. On Tuesdays I read science and biology. On Wednesdays I read geography. On Thursdays and Fridays it was maths. And over the weekend, I would read up on whatever test was coming.
I needed my A's. Mom and dad both said that if I got A's on my report card, I'd get a dragon when I was ten. A dragon could speak. A unicorn could speak. Even a parrot could speak.
Did I ever bully anyone or say mean things? No. Did I ever think them? Yes. Never let myself loose though, I couldn't risk it. All my life would boil down to my tenth birthday. No uncles in the country, no aunts that would say more than, 'Happy Birthday' and 'Happy Holidays' - I had to get a dragon. Or at least a parrot.
Whenever I played sports, I made sure to follow all the rules. Other kids fouled and pushed and shoved, and although they didn't get red cards for soccer or free shots for basketball, I never did. For you see, kids are mean. Except when they've been mean to. And being picked last all the time...
There're the good kids. The bad kids. And the ugly kids.
I was an ugly girl. The ugly girl.
Braces since I can remember, but teeth too crooked and jagged for it to work before my teens. My eyes were green on one side, and blue on the other. "Ginger ninja" was once my nickname, red hair singling me out. I didn't want to get a dragon just to show them that I could.
Just... other reasons.
For the nights I spent crying, I always did it after mom had tucked me into bed. She worked so hard and she had a tiger, I shouldn't have to trouble her. I didn't trouble dad either, he worked so hard he had a stallion. A bit hard to care for, but Bucky the horse and Stripes the tiger were fun. Mom and dad, weren't. Too busy.
And on my tenth birthday, having not slept a wink the night before, I got my companion at midnight and burst into tears.
A lone wolf. One eye green. And the other a mocking blue. He lapped at my cheeks and huddled beside me, not even whimpering when I pushed and shoved him away. I sobbed and yelled at him to go away, I screamed and shouted, but my parents were away on business.
"Wh-what did I do to d-deserve you? I was a good kid!" I managed through sniffles. "I just..."
*You wanted someone to talk to, didn't you?*
My eyes went wide. My heart stopped. My throat collapsed in on itself.
*Sorry that took a while, getting used to my new voice.*
Finally, after 9 years alone, I have a friend to talk to.
****
Visit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories!
|
Jensen was a sweet and rambunctious boy born and raised in the southern most tip of the Gilded Peninsula. Barricaded by impassable mountains and surrounded by the frigid waters of the Adelphin Sea, the insignificant village, who was largely forgotten by the rest of the world, were as tight knit as any. The summers were short there, the winters were incredibly long and strenuous, bearing temperatures that reached well below -70 degrees during peak months. Because of this, the gifted animal companion each human received at the age of 10 was so paramount to survival, children were molded into disciplinarians at a young age, feeling very little pleasure and harboring a work ethic that would surpass most adults around the world.
What this would result in is a large animal that innately absorbed the same type of mentality and the same type of desire to listen and to execute. Many of the children in the community would end up being paired with a lone wolf who would hunt on command or a fierce polar bear that dwelled on every word from their master. Given the terrain and the inevitable hardships accompanied with their way of living, anything less than a powerful animal resulted in death.
With all that being said, we now go back to Jensen. Sweet, shy and a tad bit ornery, young Jensen was the antithesis of anything disciplined. He walked clumsily around the village, often tripping on just about anything due to his lack of attention to his surroundings. In school, he would be asked to answer questions and usually ended up mumbling something inaudible because he had not been paying any attention to the lesson at hand.
His downfalls were glaring and there was not a person in the village who didn’t carry the assumption that he would soon die when he was set off at sixteen to start the great hunts for the community. Now, as you can see, all that has been described of Jensen was derived from an outsiders perspective. No one, but Jensen and the God’s who bestow the gifts of animal companions, could realize his kind heart and willing soul.
On his 10th birthday, the local villagers crowded around Jensen’s home, as they do for any child turning of age, to see the animal that would be accompanying Jensen as he walked out of his cabin to show the world of his new best friend. People were giddy with excitement to see the failure that was on the horizon. Wagers were resonating through the air and laughter ensued.
*10 pounds of whale oil that it is an arctic hare with three legs*
*15 pelts that it’s an Skua… with CLIPPED WINGS!*
The crowd continued to erupt in quick succession, almost matching the tone of the crashing waves on the jagged rocks below.
*Quiet everybody! I hear the door. He is coming out*
The crowd grew silent as Jensen turned the door knob and began to walk out of the cabin. He came out sluggishly holding his mom's hand, his feet dragging while bearing a gentle smile.
He looked to the crowd and spoke with the utmost confidence.
*A thousand pounds of gold it’s a white dragon*
He pointed to the top of the highest mountain peak off in the eastern horizon. And there it was, the highest honor for any human, the ultimate gift from the God’s. A dragon and given the terrain and where they live, Jensen had acquired the fabled Snow Dragon, an elegant beast dawning crystal blue eyes and a vibrant white an imploding star would have trouble matching.
| 2017-01-13T12:02:15
| 2017-01-13T11:57:37
| 135
| 12
|
[WP] An undercover police officer has managed to infiltrate a particularly ruthless street gang. It begins to become apparent that every other member of this gang is an undercover operative of another agency.
|
We all stared at each other in shock, we were all cops - county, city, state, feds. The original gang members had all left at some stage.
This had gone on for months, but no one had the balls to call a stop to it.
My chief trusted me to shut down this gang, so I knew I had to take those drastic steps. Some sacrifices had to be made.
I gathered all of my courage and stepped up to the plate. I knew the words that would end this gang today.
"So... it's cool with everyone if I do the reports for this?"
|
So I finally look around in awe. NYPD officers, state troopers, private investigators (that to be honest are committing a serious ethical breach), even the damn FBI. How could such a ruthless gang have been infiltrated this many times. I'm still shocked I was able to do it, my less so many other people.
Then a more horrifying thought popped into my mind. If a large majority of these gang members are policemen and women, who the hell has been committing all these heinous crimes. I look around the room, trying to sort the still-decent officers from the newly converted gangbangers and drug lords.
I spent the entire day feeling sick about it. I didn't know what to do. Then, the gang called everyone in for a new venture they decided to go in. I came to the location and discovered it was a dog fighting ring.
Just as a pit bull was biting the neck off a German Shepard, I was wondering how such upstanding members of law enforcement could possible do such heinous things. That's when I put fifty dollars on the Rottweiler that was up next.
| 2017-07-24T12:06:19
| 2017-07-24T12:02:23
| 62
| 21
|
[WP] You have dishonored your family and you must commit Sudoku.
You heard me.
|
I couldn't believe my dad would react this harshly, I reread his letter over and over again. But it was only a test, just a grade, I could have made it up next semester. As I lay there slowly bleeding out, the knife already removed. He knows I have dyslexia!
|
I sit quietly, mediating. The sword in my lap was growing more violent, more *feral* by the second.
I kept trying to control it, yet the blade's rage for bloodlust was too much.
It kept trying to attack more and more people. More and more of my frineds grew afraid of the blade. No, more people grew afraid of myself, for ever owninig the blade.
Even my king was growing more and more nervous of me. He was an old time friend, yet even with the golems he creates, he knows the power I have in this sword is too much.
That's why he tried to kill me. He sent assassins one too many times in my sleep, tried to posion my food dozens of times, and nearly killed me with the force of my own knights.
They thought I had treasoned the king, they thought I had attacked him.
I grit my teeth thinking of what he did.
The king, my old friend, made me kill them.
My family, all slain, not becuase of me, not becuase of what my blade did, but what the king made me do.
He had promised my sword blood, and blood it did get.
It took control of me, my body, and weilded me to kill them.
My wife, brothers, and my children, all killed by the blade as it weilded me as the vessel to unleash its power.
Now, I sit here, trying to regain control. I sit here in this Keep, for who knows how long. Under an orange sky, I watch the outside world.
Everything is now destroyed, outside fires have consumed the land.
Maybe the golems the king had made defected, maybe they struck him down.
Or, in his arrogance, did he burn the land?
I shook my head, then tried to meditate.
But then, I heard a crash in the other room.
Out of frustration, I throw my sword across the room.
The blade bounced a few times before settling on the floor.
I stared at it, transfixed for a moment, then I grabbed something out of my back pocked.
It was a small book, one I had almost forgotten since I had came here.
I looked at it, and smiled a bit, then a tear rolled down my cheek.
It was my brother's, a small puzzle he used to play.
I opened it, and saw the first page.
It was already done, and so too were the next few.
So finally, I land on one of the harder pages.
I studied it for a bit, remembering how to play this.
All these numbers had me bewildered, but eventually, I got it down.
I grabbed a pencil, then put a 4 on the paper.
| 2015-01-05T16:29:27
| 2015-01-05T14:52:17
| 167
| 79
|
[WP] Your superpower is the ability to give other people a superpower of your choice. Your only restriction is that you can never give the same power twice. You've been at this a very long time, and you need to build a new superhero team to save the world once again.
Edit: This is my first WP, and it was so much fun! You are a talented bunch of folks. I'm really surprised at how entertaining they were. I love that everyone came from a different angle. Thank you!
p.s. /u/WratWrangler wrote my favorite.
|
"You got a job for me or what?"
Brushing away the purple strands that had fallen over her eye, the young woman, Gwen I think her name was, glared at me. The four of us stood in a circle on a high rise roof top in downtown Dallas, a city in sunset sprawled out around us.
"You three are going to stop the most destructive terrorist attack in history from happening," I said, smiling.
The old man beside Gwen snorted. Willy, that was it. A neatly trimmed, cloud white afro domed his weathered face. He wore a faded plaid shirt and ancient blue jeans. Beside him a fat woman, sorry but the word fat applies here, studied me with narrowed eyes. Of the three the temp agency had sent me, she had dressed the most professionally, bulging from a burgundy pant suit and mid sized heels.
"Bullshit," she said. Scarlett was her name. "If you think I'm hear to get scammed you got another thing coming. I've got kids to feed, asshole, and just cause I'm an ex con doesn't mean I have to take your shit."
She's got fire. I like that.
"Whoa," I said, gesturing downward with my palms, "take it easy, Scarlett. I'm not here to scam you. I'm here to help you become the people you were always meant to be, even if you didn't know it. What do you guys think of supers?"
"They're lucky," said Willy. He had pulled a cigarette from somewhere, and he now held a lighter flame at the end and puffed. "Rules don't apply to them like they do to us. They always got a way to get money, always got a job from the government if they want it."
"Fascist assholes," said Gwen.
This drew a chuckle from Willy.
"You gonna tell us why we're here?" Scarlett asked, taking a step towards me. Behind her in the distance an arc of pale sun peeked from behind a silver skyscraper. "Because if you don't I'm going home to my son."
I hold out my arm, palm to the sky. Three pairs of eyes lock onto my hand, the stillness of their bodies betraying anticipation and wonder. Gwen runs her tongue across the stud in her bottom lip.
Scarlett gasps as my hand begins to glow blue. The cigarette drops from Willy's mouth, smoke curling from the tip as it rolls across the concrete.
"You're one of them," Scarlett said. Her mouth had fallen open. "You're a super."
"Yes," I said. "But my power is different. I can turn each one of you into something more, and through me you can have powers of your own. Your powers will be completely unique, unlike any that have come before. All you need to do is sign a contract."
They followed my gaze to a card table i had set up, the three stapled stacks of paper resting there, each with their own pen. Willy signed immediately. He finished his signature with a punch of the pen, I supposed dotting an eye, then spread his hands as if to say "okay now what." Gwen scanned the contract first, desire and anger battling on her face as she flipped through the pages. The desire won. She signed. Scarlett was a slightly tougher sell.
"Will this put my family in danger?" she asked.
"No more than usual," I responded. "Only now you will have the power to defend them."
"Unless I'm gone for months at a time, fetching and heeling like your little lap dog."
"It won't be like that."
"How much does it pay?"
I told her. She signed.
"Scarlett I'm going to press my hand between your collarbones, okay?"
Grinning, Scarlett said, "I didn't see copping a feel anywhere in that contract, Mr. Simon."
"Just Simon," I said, returning the smile. "You may experience some discomfort, but I can't say for sure. It's different every time."
I stepped up to the large woman and pressed my hand above her massive breasts, adjusting until a tingling resonance let me know I had found the right spot. Her eyes went wide, her breathing quickened to the point of panic as I sent the power into her body. I had something interesting in mind for her, for a woman with fire, not afraid to drop the hammer when it was needed. In only a few seconds it was done. My shoulders slumped and I fought to catch my breath, my body suddenly fatigued like I'd just climbed all the steps in this apartment building.
"See those chairs over there?" I pointed to a row of metal folding chairs I had set up twenty or so yards away. "Concentrate on one of them and make it go away."
Astonishment still branded on her chubby face, Scarlett turned to face the chairs. Gwen and Willy looked on in quiet fascination, like kids at a magic show. For a long moment, nothing happened. Scarlett merely stared at the chairs, the sounds of a busy street drifting up from below.
But then, like a line of ink across the sky, something dropped down towards us from high above. It surged diagonally across the sky with a growing whistle until it slammed into one of the chairs, exploding it away from the others with a metallic clank. Willy and Gwen crouched back from the blast, looking to me with frightened eyes. A halo of flame burned in the spot where the chair had been. Scarlett turned back to face me, a broad grin stretching across her face.
"I did that," she said.
"Yes, you did," I said. I turned to the two others. "Who's next?"
They both raised their hands.
|
"How about the power to create dinosaurs?" he said looking at me, a desperation in his voice. We had been going at this for like an hour by this point.
"Really! You thought your the first to ask to be a dinomancer. Kid someone asked for the power within the first year of me starting. Try again." I was used to people trying to be creative but fall in the same pitfalls as everyone else. Next the kid would ask to create just a specific kind of dinosaur.
"Well how about just raptors? Not every dinosaur just a hoard of raptors, surely that is..."
"Kid, Raptor man lasted like three days. You know Jurassic park really took liberties with Raptors right? Turns out chickens with teeth aren't that scary when you can aren't a basic civilian, and the power didn't give the guy dressed as a fucking Aztec Jaguar any defensive ability. The guy got shot in the street after announcing himself. Try something else, and for the love of god don't say the ability to summon a T-rex or an army of T-rexes. That guy summoned one and it ate him before he made a second."
The kid sat there thinking when I heard a the bell ring above the door to my shop.
I looked towards the entrance and yelled "Hey! Visit the website and schedule an appointment. Powers cost thirty thousand and I don't give discounts for orphans!"
"Hello Rodger, we need your special skills again." It was a man in a suit, red tie, with a hundred dollar haircut. You know the type, your basic government agent, ear piece, sun glasses and five O'clock shadow.
"Agent Clark, you know I would love to talk, but I'm in..." I started to say rubbing my temples.
"Rodger we need your help now, a super villain has popped up and we have a team for five agents ready to be given powers. We will pay the going rate you gave us. A car is..." He started going through his basic script and I just couldn't take it anymore.
"Clark. I run a business here. Give me the list of powers, and set up an appointment. I can't give special treatment anymore. What happened to the last team?". Of course I knew what happened to the last team, everyone did.
"You know what happened to special team W. The Bubbler was shot, Jazzy used his power without protection and hasn't gained his sanity since, and Captain Ice Cream is the current villain we are worried about."
The kid looked at me questioningly "Captain Ice Cream?"
"Listen kid. I have been at this for thirty seven years. You are asking for powers a sane person would ask for. Captain Ice Cream can take control and give sentience to all dairy products to do his bidding. I don't know how he thought of that, I still think he is a damn loon. Do you get what kind of power you need to ask for by this point?"
He looked down at the ground and started muttering to himself.
"Alright Rodger. Listen, Captain Ice Cream has already taken over Wisconsin. Turns out the cheese cult over there could be enslaved by Ice Cream's powers. Something about putting cheese into the brain. We just need anti-dairy powers. The Curdler, Citrus lass, Moussie. That is all I ask. Clearly no one has asked for..."
"The Curdler was a kid about Thirty years ago who wanted to get the power to prank his friends, Moussie who I assume has the power to take control of mice was an agent in the CIA. How did you not know about her? And the power to create lemon or lime juice was taken by a chef. Sorry to tell you but you need to be more creative than that." By this point I was beyond annoyed and I could tell it showed.
"What can you think of Rodger? What powers are available to stop Captain Ice Cream?"
"I'll give you the power to create Crackers, not the good kind, the kind no one likes, and the power to control Crackers. It will go to a dynamic duo. That is the best I can do for you. Have them stop by after three and I will give them the powers."
"Thank you Rodgers." Clark said looking defeated and disappointed. He was going to be chewed out by the higher ups, but nothing can be done about that.
I look back to the kid. "So, any ideas?"
| 2019-01-20T12:18:11
| 2019-01-20T11:40:57
| 35
| 19
|
[WP] Three weary survivors around a fire recount how the apocalypse happened - but their stories aren't the same.
|
"So, how did yours happen?" asked a weary man calmly carving a piece of wood with knife. Two others were with him, a man and a woman, all gently rubbed by a warm fire between them.
"It was back in the 21 century. I believe that makes me the oldest around here, though not that it matters." None of them looked to be over thirty, the woman shifted uneasily on her hard wooden seat they had cut a few hours earlier. "Third world war began, and in an instant cities were leveled. Don't know how I survived the first flash, maybe it was the car I was riding. Full titanium hull, faster than a jet." the man laughed at his own memories. "I remember driving that car through a wall with no scratches on it afterwards. Such a beast. Anyway..." the man's face toon back its sincerety. "I was part of the 'remember me' operation. Bunch of rich people were to be stuffed inside a metal box and frozen, but when I got there...one engineer-bot was all that remained. He fulfilled his job, I guess, placed me inside to be awaken once ready." he looked around at his surroundings. The scortched earth around him, buildings that seemed to have been broken for centuries. "Wasn't excatly expenting this." With a sigh he turned towards the woman. "How about you?"
The woman stayed silent. Instead of speaking she simply stared at the fire in front of her, taking a glance of the surroundings every once in a while like she was afraid of something in the dark.
"Okay, maybe I'll tell you next." the other man said. He was heavily built, massive muscles covered his bones, and the deep voice made a soft growl with every stop. "I was a soldier. Not in the 21st, but during the First Contact war in 23rd century. That's what we named the war. It was a bloody war, not as bloody as the third civil war, I hear, but bloody for those fighting." the man shifted his seat, his hand neatly laid next to a heavy rifle. "But, I guess that's because they never had time to see blood. I was on orbit when it happened, we were restocking on food and air...never saw it coming." he shook his head, still in disbelief. "The enemy armada came in and glassed the planet, I didn't belief anything could survive it, but apparently it did."
"How'd you end up in here then, if you were on orbit when it happened?"
"All the ships in orbit had a single command: fight till dead, and that's what we did. Or tried, at least, most ships were disabled in a few minutes after the attack. I was aboard one of them." his hand reached for his skull and rubbed the back of his head, a fainted scar could be felt through his short hair. "Last thing I remember is an alien rifle striking my head after a short fight. Next thing I know, I woke up in the cave when you shook me awake." he turned to the woman, now, and spoke. "So, now we have told our stories, how about you tell us yours? We don't even know your name." there was no answer from the woman.
"Maybe she's mute? We did find her in the cave, just like you found me." the first man suggested. "Or maybe she can't understand us?"
"Oh, she can understand us. She understood us plenty when we went to set up the fire. She's hiding something." the soldier eyed the woman carefully. "Give me your knife." the man extended his hand to the other. "I'll make her talk." the woman's eyes widened in horror and she spoke.
"Anney, ik'rakt" another voice soon followed, a robotic and dull voice with no emotion. "Do not hurt me." - "Rakt tul'er go dom an. Annay, ik'rakt. Dom'rakt, les." - "I brought you here because I need your help. Do not hurt me. Help me, please."
|
"Picture this: I'm sitting at my desk, sipping a cup of joe, and then ... fire. Didn't take long to work out exactly what had happened."
"And what HAD happened?"
"Well, the way I see it, those damn reds had hit us with everything they had."
"Bullshit, that's not how it went down!"
"It is too!"
"No, no, he's right, that's not how I remember it either. Seven o'clock, the tremors started. Nothing out of the ordinary I thought, we're talking about the west coast here ..."
"So?"
"So, I got into my car, headed down the street and BOOM; I kissed my ass goodbye."
"I'm telling you; nukes, a whole lotta' them!"
"Read my lips asshole ... vol-ca-no."
"Yellowstone?"
"I'd put my money on it."
"Pfffft, you're talking crazy."
"Whatever man. That's my side of the story. Now what about you bud, you saw the eruption too right?"
"Well, I can't say I saw any ... eruption ..."
"Oh for f-"
"But ... I sure as hell saw something else. There were four of 'em, four riders. When I say riders man, I'm talking horsemen, not one, not two, but four. Trumpets too, I swear on my mother's grave, loud as can be. We have witnessed the end of days gentlemen."
"What a load of crap."
"Amen to that."
"Whatever, I didn't expect you to believe me anyway."
"At least our stories had some consist-"
"How about we just agree to disagree, hmm?"
"Fine, fine, suits me."
"Hey man, I'm not complaining, just pass me the booze and let's drink to the present."
"To the present!"
There's a moment of silence as the travellers share a bottle of malt whiskey.
"Never thought I'd be sharing a drink with a pair of commies ..."
"Goddamnit Mark won't you let it go?"
"It was the chi-neeese! I'm tellin' ya'!"
"You really ARE a little touched in the head, aren't you?"
| 2017-01-07T07:32:11
| 2017-01-07T06:44:50
| 29
| 10
|
[WP] You're a man who's tired of his life, so one day, while driving home from work, instead of stopping at your house, you just decided to keep driving.
|
The steady creep of exhaustion was finally beginning to overtake me...
Left.
Hands raw from hours of gripping leather...
Right.
Shoulders slumping forward... I make a half-hearted effort to pull them back into place...
Straight. Yes.
Someone closes on me from behind... appears to be a young man. My muscles tense. My grip tightens...
"Uhmmm, sir? Seriously, I need you to leave now. The driving range closed two hours ago."
"You can't make me go back!"
*PING!* Another shitty golf ball disappears into the setting sun.
"I gotta keep driving..."
|
Jim never was a rebel, as a kid he prided himself on knowing anything and everything in all his classes. Hell, valedictorian him up. Where did he end up after that? Nowhere special, he was disappointed. This disappointment grew inside him where he just couldn't take it.
It was as if life itself was binding him, and he could not be freed.. until now.
he is at a crossroads. To the left of him there is his lonely, and miserable, and plainly mediocre life. To the right awaits wonder and mystery, the same wonder and mystery he had felt as a kid with his brother.
he turned to the right, to begin his new adventure, and embark on a new journey!
Fred was an alcoholic, physically abused by his father and emotionally abused by his mother he grew up poor and miserable. The only one who helped him out was his older brother, but eventually they drifted apart due to their differences. He always had respect for him though, he was the only one that he respects. He would later go on to "self-defend" himself against his father, little did the judicial system know he had it all rigged in his favor. Fred was cunning, deceptive, manipulative, and he never got caught in the act. He rose to the ranks as one of the world's "best and most trustworthy lawyer", but wanted more. His greed and ambition fueled him, but in one fateful night would be his downfall. His friend showed him a new alcohol, it got him drunk real quick. His friend left when fred was starting to pass out, a grave mistake. Fred drunkenly and thirstily decided to drive to the store to get more booze, ended up on oncoming traffic and smashed into someone.
Jim died on impact, fred miraculously survived. Through his corruption and connections he was found, you guessed it, not guilty.
Fred experienced severe emotional grief, because jim was infact his brother. The only one who showed any level of compassion for him in his youth. Fred would later commit suicide over the guilt.
| 2016-06-11T20:28:53
| 2016-06-11T19:01:22
| 276
| 13
|
[WP] In the year 2022, we discovered that the sword in the stone was real. The scientists that discovered it found that attempting to pull the sword from the stone with a machine generated an infinite amount of counter force. The first infinite energy engine was born.
|
The politicians gathered around the podium, unable to contain their excitement. The clicking of camera shutters were all but deafening. The pre-announcement had been released a mere two hours prior with only two single bullet points:
* The Sword in the Stone is Real
* We Have Identified a Source of Limitless Energy
This announcement had also attracted skeptics from both the history and physics domain, who sat in the rear with arms folded, staring daggers at the politicians.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have found the sword in the stone and have discovered that it is entirely immovable, providing an up to an infinite amount of force to not be removed. We have already awarded a $3B contract to a private company to build the infrastructure to transport this energy to all of the UK and eventually the world. This marks a new era for man and UK economic prosperity. I will now take any questions.”
For about 20 minutes, questions about the economic and political implications were throw around and deftly navigated by the politicians. Then another 20 minutes for the historians. Then finally, the physicists stepped forth.
“So you have confirmed that it provides up to infinite force, correct?”
The politician smirked.
“We have yet to identify the upper limit with all available testing and look forward to continue exploring this.”
“And it’s 100% immovable, correct?”
“Absolutely, we have nothing to fear regarding the sword being removed over time.”
“And you are of course aware that energy is equal to force multiplied by distance and that infinity times zero is still zero, right?”
The politician’s face fell. A mathematician stepped forward.
“Well, depending on the framework, one could argue-“
“Bill, the adults are talking.” The physicist returned his attention to the politician at the podium. “So what you’re telling me is that you basically have an absolutely indestructible brick in the shape of a sword in the stone. And that you payed $3B of taxpayer money to a private company because you think that something being indestructible and undeformable is the same thing as being able to generate infinite energy.”
“… well, that contract is going to lead to a lot of jobs.”
|
This excited me as well as filled me with crippling dread. If this sword existed then the Arthurian Legends are real. My mind raced as if I found the necronomicon but I have to stay focused. This must be kept secret, if Project Merlin was found out, not even all of the USA could help us. Merlin the impossible wizard. Born on the other side of time and right hand of King Arthur. We have started a war older then time I just hope this new energy source can give us an edge. As long as there is no Chosen of the Sword the legends will stay a myth but it can be a matter of time. I was called cynical and insane about my worries but we just proved myth to be real.
I needed to know everything about King Arthur and Camelot. If we are to prepare for such a great foe I need to know his story and who or what he was fighting. I must know everything.
I've done it, I've drove myself mad. I now sit in a isolation tank within the lab with nothing but this keyboard. I wish no ill fate to any of my friends and colleagues nor any harm but I wish they would just consider my warnings but alas I will stay here until I can collect myself.
"You are right and right to fear old boy." An old voice appears behind me as I whip around in great fear and Paranoia. In my madness I can now hear the abyss.
"No no I'm not a figment of your imagination nor am I with the Abyss. Did that once and was not a fan."
A man dressed as an insane wizard appears through the wall of my cell like it was just a mere door.
"Master Merlin?!" I said with horror and excitement.
"Ah now none of that Master stuff, makes me feel old."
"Oh right manners, HELLO I am Merlin! And everything you fear is, can, and will come true but not for sometime. I wish to see more of this era's technology and how you will apply the Sword but I will be back for you however. You are to undergo training and have to learn to use a Sword."
| 2021-08-12T04:33:48
| 2021-08-12T03:49:42
| 28
| 17
|
[WP] The years-long changes brought on by puberty have been shortened from a years-long process into a relatively short butterfly-like metamorphosis, sometimes people emerge very different from when they went in.
|
Jerome was sweating, it felt slimy and not at all pleasant. His panic had him near tears, as well he would. This change was a certainty, sure; but so was death and people were rarely calm regarding that.
He and his family had been expecting it for a few weeks, now. Not only was he already sixteen but the change always gave hints before it finally decided to do its work. A hint of height here, a touch of hair there. Jerome would already be called a man but now the full change was here in all it’s devastating finality, no one knew what it would bring.
He looked in his bedroom mirror, a broken thing much like the rest of his run-down home. He stared at his face for the last time. Would he grow taller? Would the marks on his face clear up? His older brother had grown tough as an ox after his change, Jerome could only hope for half as much.
He lay in his bed, felt his sweat stick and harden. It wasn’t too bad.
Light. The crusty shell fell off him as his new eyes adjusted to the morning sun.
“Jerome?” asked a voice to his side.
“Wh-what?” he replied, noticing a change immediately. Jerome looked up at his family, all staring awestruck down at him. The sudden tug of fear did not make for a pleasant awakening.
He looked down at his hands and had to stifle a yelp. “No, no, no!” he began, shooting up from his bed as he saw a pair of hands that were far lighter than they had been the night before.
Jerome ran to the mirror, his family not making a sound despite their open mouths.
He got there at last, almost fainting when he saw a stranger staring back at him with a Caucasian face.
A Caucasian face, and a hefty pair of tits.
|
Heres my take: The first stage begins with a rash. The rash can start anywhere on the body but over the next month, it progresses until the entire body is affected. The rash is a sign of the sweat glands and hair follicles reconfiguring themselves to produce the soon to be needed shell. Simultaneously, the teen's appetite increases, causing them to constantly eat or snack. The increased intake of nutrients leads to weight gain. After about a month of stage one, the teen progresses to stage two.
Stage two is characterized by drowsiness and decreased mobility. Often, teens will remain inside in warm, comforting areas such as their bedroom or living room. Random bouts of sleeping occur at all times of day, usually triggered by low light and calm environments. Stage two is the shortest of the stages and can last anywhere from several weeks to a few days.
Stage three is by far the longest and is when the most drastic of changes occur. It begins when the teen enters a prolonged state similar to REM sleep and begins to produce their cocoon. Hair and sweat follicles now produce modified skin cells and a bonding agent that causes a cocoon to form around the teen, encasing them. The shell contains a network of blood vessels and nerves that provide nutrients and a semblance of pressure sensing that are wired directly into the teen's nervous and circulatory system. The body of the teen breaks down into cells that convert themselves back into stem cells. The central nervous system does separate but seems to continue functioning as teens have reported having dreams while undergoing stage three. The heart and lungs remain intact and adhere to the outer wall of the shell where they provide oxygen and nutrients. The heart also grows a third set of ventricle and atrium wich pump the slush of cells around the.
Stage three lasts can last for up to three months and during this time the teen is remade in their ideal image. Somehow, their subconscious perfect self is projected and created leading to everything from minor hair color changes, to entire gender swaps.
The transformation can also to an extent, modify the basic profile of the human body, adding small horns, tails, pointed ears, and a second set of eyes.
Once the transformation has finished the main body of the work, the former heart and lungs dissolve away and the cocoon begins to break down. The teen is still connected to it via an umbilical cord, but this is mainly to provide oxygen to them and not to sustain the shell, which becomes brittle.
Eventually, the stored up nutrients and oxygen are nearly depleted and the teen awakes and easily breaks free of their cocoon.
While still debated by doctors as being the fourth stage or not, the next few weeks are a time where the newly birthed teen returns basic functions such as walking and speaking, as well as the use of any other functions gained during the transformations.
| 2019-09-06T13:44:45
| 2019-09-06T12:35:52
| 23
| 13
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Dear Omar,
I know, I know. The last thing you wanted was your obituary to read "...an Oakland Man." I was telling some of my other friends that despite the fact we'd only been close friends for something like a couple years, you were someone that I would've wanted in the groom's party when I eventually got married. I don't share feelings easily, but with you it always felt okay.
I've moved to LA. I left Rdio that October. You'll be happy to know that Darrell and Raquel have bought my old place. They actually stay in the room you were in; they've converted the master bedroom to a gym.
Oh right! I finally went to Coachella. Your father had expressed to me, with tears in his eyes, how happy you seemed from all of the pictures you'd taken on your phone. I couldn't stop thinking of you and how you were always so easy with everyone. Totally understand what you loved about the music festival scene, now that I've gotten a few under my belt.
I try to live my life the way you did: always enjoying the moment, truly! These days I also chastise people for texting while driving. I have to confess to checking my phone at lights, sometimes. The traffic is just so bad here.
Oh! Also, I don't know if you know this happened, but your brother, or was it a cousin? He got super proselytizy at your memorial service, and left a small stack of pocket bibles for everyone. Your father kind of yelled at him to stop after a little while... it was kind of awkward.
I had to unfriend you on Facebook, sorry about that. Someone in your family had taken to using your phone, and hadn't deleted messenger, so it would show you as online, and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
I think that's it... Every year, around that time in April, memories come up; you were such a brilliant light in our lives, and we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Your friend always,
kevin
|
Not sure if this is more because this is what I want to tell you or what but here goes.
When I first came to this school. You where basically my first friend which then led me to becoming friends with a lot of people. However there was one person In particular I liked, a lot. One who gave me emotions I had never felt before and feelings I didn't know I had. However I didn't know much about who you liked or what your dating/romance history was and you should have told me sooner, because if only I had knew. I always had a single rule when it came to my friends and liking someone, If you've known them longer or liked them for longer than I have, i won't get in your way. She's all yours. But instead you told me you didn't like anyone, including her and so I fell, further than I ever thought I could. I tried my best to do things I've never done before, I tried my best to hide my emotions to everyone but you. But then she started to show affection for you and so did you, with or without realising it. I don't know. You kept reassuring me that you were just friends, even when everyone else told me to give up and not bother trying. But then... Then I told you about the other girl I like, not even a quarter as much though, because I could actually talk to her and do stuff with her, unlike the other. So I told you and trusted you with this just to get what I did back. You had liked her for much much longer, everything you had reassured me with, as obvious as it was, was a lie. The thing is, I know why you did this, because you told me. You didn't want to hurt me and you didn't, you never could. How could someone's best friend hurt them after all? But now after I've fallen so much and learnt all these new things, I did exactly what I said I would. I stepped back, I let you go for her and now, well soon... You'll be happy together. But now here I am, in the background as always, watching with all those feelings that do nothing but make me cry. Of course I'm happy for you, you got, not only the girl but each other. The one the other loves. But you kept one thing from me, something I know caused you pain. Watching as I tried, tried and failed. And now this, this I will keep from you, from everyone we know for no one to see but me. Ever.
I'm sorry.
| 2017-11-05T22:20:06
| 2017-11-05T22:02:40
| 78
| 18
|
[WP] Today is 08/28/20. Your 20th birthday. You go to take a shower and close your eyes under the warm water. When you reopen them you find yourself in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit sitting in a courtroom. Utterly confused you turn to the judge and ask the date. Today is your 40th birthday.
\*Edit Wow I was not expecting this to become so popular. I like to browse r/WritingPrompts sometimes and when I thought of this prompt I just had to share it. Thanks for all the responses, I'm going to try to read thru them all. :)
|
With the hot water streaming down my head and neck, I closed my eyes so that I might more fully immerse myself in the relaxation of the shower. In this moment, there were no noises or responsibilities beyond myself and beyond the simple pleasure of calm. Only the faint pattering of rivulets and drops of water served to tether me to the material world, and even those slowly faded out as my mind began to wander…
Yet, there was a strange sensation forming now, one that I couldn’t quite place. No, it was as if the water was evaporating before it hit my skin, for the continuous pattering that I had only a moment ago been experiencing was rapidly diminishing, becoming intermittent and increasingly subtle. And my skin, which had previously been absolutely unburdened, was now feeling weighty and dry. If the sensations of reality were crashing down around me, the final impact was when I could almost tangibly feel my hands snap together behind my back. Mired in confusion, I opened my eyes and turned around.
A judge, sitting behind a large and imposing wooden platform, stared back. My field of view broadening by the moment as I looked back and forth, I began to notice the courtroom I was in. The walls were white-painted concrete block with hastily attached light fixtures that gave off a dim glow. The paint on the low stucco ceiling was flaking off, and in some places, large chunks of the underlying material were visible. The benches and desks of the courtroom looked poorly-constructed and spongy plywood was revealed by a mosaic pattern of bumps, dents, and scratches.
Taking all this in, however, did not serve to alleviate my confusion. Still feeling somewhat unsteady, I managed to make eye contact with the judge and stammer out, “What’s going on?”
The judge, a large man wearing an equally large wig, looked back somewhat contemptuously and replied in a flat and disinterested voice, “You would do well to remember that we are the ones providing this courtesy to you.” Rolls of fat adorned with spherical corpuscles jostled in various directions before eventually settling in an equally contemptuous pose. From behind me, I could hear vague murmurs of affirmation or agreement.
“But,” I sputtered again, “where am I? What’s the time?” The murmurs from behind made themselves known again, this time with a somewhat amused tone.
The judge, readjusting his blubberous extremities, compelled his lips to move once again and uttered matter-of-factly with an air of superiority, “You are in courtroom 4 of the New Concord Rehabilitation Facility. It is…” he checked his watch, a gaudy gold affair, “6:50 PM, the 28th of August, 2040.” I noticed that he droned out this declaration noticeably slowly, as if he were concerned I would be unable to understand a standardly-paced delivery.
I gazed in a somewhat slack-jawed manner in the judge’s general direction. 2040? What? What was I doing 20 years in the future? Likely alerted by this change in behaviour, a woman in a cheap grey suit approached me from the side. She began to speak in the same slow and patronizing manner as the judge.
“I’m Ms. Livingstone, your court-appointed lawyer. … The procedure can leave you a bit confused at first, but that will clear. … Can you nod if you understand?”
More than a little bit insulted, I directed a caustic look in her direction before replying in a somewhat mockingly slow voice of my own, “No, I don’t understand. What procedure?!”
The judge, who was at this point attempting to reach around and scratch his back, abandoned that venture and directed his attention to spitting out another lifeless and mocking set of sentences at me. “As a reward for good behaviour, this court has granted access to some of your memories, circa 20 years ago. Normally, lifers like you don’t get memory privileges: too dangerous. However, the fine people at the investigations branch say that you helped them identify some troublesome inmates in your old wing, and as a reward, we’ve allowed you to temporarily access your memories from before your incarceration. In a few minutes, you’re going to re-sync with your present identity and are going to be escorted back to your cell.”
Ms. Livingstone smiled encouragingly and mouthed “It’s gonna be alright.” Two burly men in black uniforms emerged from doors at the end of the courtroom and headed towards me, indicating towards the large central door directly behind me. Powerless and still confused, I dejectedly walked towards it and then through it into a long, white, concrete hallway. Faces I was starting to remember peered out of barred openings periodically carved into the corridor. At first, they stared quietly, but soon some started to whisper questions to me. “Who were you?” “What was it like?” “What can you remember?” I wish I had answered them.
When we finally arrived at my cell, the memory was fading. The feeling of the water droplets on my skin seemed dreamlike and faraway. Eventually it reached the point where I was simply imagining it, and then I had trouble focusing on what I was trying to imagine. Entangled in this miring slowness, I twisted around frantically, desperate to find something to record what little I could still remember.
*Deep in the bowels of a labyrinthine facility lies an unmarked cell, the single occupant of which shall remain nameless. This is a person without a past, and to whom the future may as well be identical to the present. Behind them lies a void, an absence that should contain all the things you and I might call an identity. Before them lies a cacophony of random noise, of days that are all identical and equally obscure. And in the present, that ever-fleeting moment within which all action must take place, there is nothing to write on the walls with.*
​
*If you'd like to read more of my things, head on over to* r/DaeridaniiWrites
|
I hop into the shower, having made sure that the temperature was comfortable. I close my eyes, enjoying the nice, warm temperature. I use these seconds to prepare for what’s to come, the dream.
My eyelids rocket open, a cool air rattling me. I look around, I see tall people dressed in fancy, stiff clothing, yet oddly, it’s all the same shade or bright grey. I see wooden, cushioned benches, a bright light above me, but I can’t figure out where the source is. I glance down, and see that I’m in a bright orange jumpsuit labeled, BioCriminal 79. BioCriminal, what does that even mean? I know for sure I’ve never broken any major laws, so why am I here? I look around, and hope that someone can answer my question. I see someone in the center of the very front of the room. That person is dressed in pitch black clothing, different from the drab greys of everyone else.
I raise my voice to the person at the center, “why am I here? I should be in the Renaj Facility.”
“You sir, are here for unlawful biofreezing, period, twenty years,” the person says sternly.
“But thats... not illegal,” I reply, confused.
“I think we have now received verbal evidence that this biofreezing was purposeful, and thus you are sentenced to the Guillotine. Have a Governmental day,” the... judge says robotically, like he’s said it every day. “Another one to add to the pile,” he mutters... proudly?
The weight of the situation I’m in instantly crushes me, I’m going to die, I waited all this time to get executed? I think not. I stand up and sprint to a black door behind me, a force jolts my back, and I realize someone has grabbed me. I struggle, I try to attack the person on me with my hands, but I can’t, i see that I’m handcuffed.
“WAIT, THE HEll ARE YOU DOING. THIS ISN’T WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. I EXPECTED UTOPIA, NOT THIS DYSTOPIA,” I screech at whoever will listen. This wasn’t how this was supposed to end up, I start to hyperventilate, my breath becoming more and more erratic. The world was supposed to be solved, death was supposed to be eradicated, so why, why, why, why are people being put to death?
“Death is gone... utopia should be achieved, so why are you killing people, in utopia there is no death, so why?!” I exclaim, defeated.
“You fool, some people always need to be eliminated to achieve utopia. Those who did not persevere through the formative years of the Government have no business being alive,” Passion emanates from the judge. “The utopia thrives without those like you.”
Shorter one this time round, but didn’t feel like writing for too long today.
Tips always appreciated!
r/CascadeCorner
| 2020-08-28T19:30:46
| 2020-08-28T16:32:05
| 1,587
| 96
|
[WP] You gain a magic coin that can grant wishes, but only if you flip it. If it lands on heads, your wish is granted, but if it lands on tails, the opposite of your wish happens.
|
Wiping a tear off his cheek Derek opened the box he received this morning. Coughing from the dust that that had settled on the box his thoughts went to his grandma. She had been amazing, taking him in when his parents had abandoned him. Raising him to the man he was today. Glad to help his community and to work at the nursing home for the elderly nearby.
Wondering what items his grandmother left him in her will Derek pulled out the boxes and books from the box. Spreading them out on his desk its contents became clear. It was a rather large coin collection. One he immediately decided to keep.
Making a note to call his notary to alter his will so the collection would go to a museum after being put in a coffin and cremated Derek opened the first book. Going over it page by page he was amazed at the diversity. There were coins from the Roman empire to those first minted after the United States had been founded.
Pulling out more and more books, all heavy with coin, Derek nearly reached the bottom of the box. Standing on it, in between several smaller coin books was a a special stand. Taking it out and dusting it off a sentence became readable on the top.
Above the glass window showing a near blank coin it said: “Warning, only rub in emergency situations!”
Wanting to get one good laugh out of grandma her silly jokes Derek opened the little door and took the coin out of its stand. After rubbing it for a second, making it shine once more, Derek opened the little door again and put the coin back.
Reaching over to grab the last few things from the box Derek jumped back in surprise as a blue man faded in right next to him from thin air.
Bowing before Derek the ghost stood up and as Derek grabbed an umbrella and held it up it said: “Greetings boy, I am Pani. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to stretch my legs after the decades spent locked in that damn coin. Now, you can make as many wishes as you want which will come true if the coin is.-”
Listening closely Derek immediately jumped over to the coin holder, opening it and taking out the coin. Yelling: “I wish for world peace,” Derek flipped the coin high in the air, observing it as it fell down to the ground.
Upon landing on the carpet sirens go off outside, blasting their loud noise to every house.
“What happened ghost,” Derek loudly asked of Pani, accusation clear in his voice.
Looking at Derek, slowly blinking, Pani scratched his neck.
“You modern humans. You did not even bother letting me finish my explanation. When it lands on heads your wish is granted. Does it land on tails, well, then the opposite of what you wished for happens. In this case a world war. Which includes every nuclear missile in the world being launched!”
The genie, now followed by Derek‘s scornful gaze sat down in the comfortable chair in the corner of the room, giving him the thumbs up.
“Also, I am a genie! Now boy, go and wish for world peace again. And hope this time the coin lands on heads before you are obliterated,” the genie said, laughing out loud at the stupidity of this boy.
----------------
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, then please check out /r/MaisieKlaassen
|
My guide to life is a 2 euro coin.
I know, it's really weird, but the coin is my genie.
If I flip it heads when I ask for something, I get that. If I flip tails, I get the opposite.
Having already failed several times, I keep testing my luck. I've been robbed of my entire house, fortune, and knowledge in a night. But as far as I know, if I keep flipping, I'll eventually get rich.
Even though I'm homeless, I try my best to help the other homeless people. Today is my chance to finally change someone else's life.
I flip the coin into a homeless man's cup, praying for heads.
"I hope this man gets back on his feet," I mutter.
An hour later, I feel the coin back in my pocket.
Tails. Definitely tails.
| 2016-08-26T07:51:15
| 2016-08-26T07:21:22
| 20
| 10
|
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight.
|
Our troops never saw it coming.
We had the finest warriors.
The best Gods-be-damned warriors in the entire universe! We had them trained aboard our greatest ships in the fine arts of blade work, defensive shields, athleticism beyond any other known planet's residents, and we have watched as they tore through planets to gather the resources! The Gods themselves manifested to guide our soldiers through the darkest of nights and most blinding of days, the bloodiest of battles and the deadliest of opponents: Each soldier's Smegg'Ïnblade was made of the very material found only in the deepest of our mines!
And yet, despite our advancements, these demons, these '*hu-maans*'...they tore through us. Their 'Ca'Neh Dee'An' tribe's hunters proved too much for our stealth units. The...the 'ackses' that they used simply smashed through even our strongest of Wooden equipment and armour! Not even mentioning the growling mechanical dogs that the hunters carried, the beasts capable of biting through trees and felling them! A close brother of mine, Ca'Lek, he saw his unit *slaughtered*. And as he left to escape, warning us all of the threat waiting below, he gathered some symbols on one of the nearby metal monsters that carried logs on its back.
From the understanding we gather, it says '*Canadian Pine Fellers Inc.*'. I urge you, if that wretched name is seen in our scouting of a location, we do not have our troops attack!
Furthermore, I do not even dare mention the...'Twïets' that these foul monsters send to each other. After months of decryption, our finest scientists have deciphered a message. From one of these creatures to all others, this one claimed 'about 2 smoke a bowl \#420blaze it'! From what we believe, these 'bowls' are a valuable resource to maturing members of this species, granting them the ability to see the unseen and speak to Gods!
**GODS!**
And finally, I do not even dare to bring into light how easily they get rid of our ships. Once we are...*disposed of*...they simply remove the innards of our invasion shuttles, place a metal container and black fibrous sack into it, and the other creatures dispose of their waste in them! Even going so far as to *defile* our ships, naming them 'Bins'!
Foul beings.
But we have one advantage, my Lords.
One.
He is our greatest, most experienced spy. He has succeeded in gaining a seat of power in one of the major continents of this planet.
We know him only as...
"Obama."
|
It had been six thousand, six hundred, and forty eight years since the portal had closed behind Dread Herald Zeba'abaneg. Of course, this was a mere instant for her kind, but she was no closer to enslaving the planet. Despite her title, dread was a foreign emotion for her, but one she had become increasingly acquainted with. How despicably droll! Not just to worry, but to worry about *time*, of all things. Could anything be more vulgar? Yet it was a valid concern. For all the imperiousness she drew from her vast timelessness, it was now working against her.
The pathetically short-lived, dominant life form of this world had advanced at a staggering rate over the past six millenia. Brood after brood, their influence spread. What was once a scattered and primitive race was now an interconnected powerhouse of commerce and untold military might. What few relics fell into Zeba'abaneg's tentacles were confoundingly intricate and beyond her understanding - she daren't even complete the thought, but could they be *too advanced*?
Gone too were the good old days of fearful superstition. When she'd first arrived, progress seemed to be going well; the tendrils of her farthought had raised fervid cults in every sphere of the world. From Europe to the Pacific, the filthy little primates wailed in supplication and despair. Nowadays, they threw her prophets into quarantined facilities; padded rooms, sedatives, and not a spare concern more was paid unto their soothsaying again.
She was well beyond the point of lowering herself to physically brutalising them into submission, but it simply wasn't an option. One would have assumed that a realm covered in oceans, teeming with marine life, would be ruled by an aquatic race (like every other sensible world she'd conquered). Not only were humans not aquatic, they barely paid attention the uncharted depths of the sea. What hubris?! To simply ignore the depths. Their soft, fleshy bodies were suitable only for a pathetically narrow range of pressures (matching the surface air pressure), a few meters below the water and the disgusting little vermin would begin to squirm (not to mention the total lack of ability to oxygenate their blood with water). Taking the fight to them wasn't a serious proposition, either. With a planet as laughably small as this, and an atmosphere so unbearably thin, Zeba'abaneg's regal form was reduced to quivering mass of flaccid tendrils on the surface (not to mention the unbearable light shone from their intolerably close star).
The Australian experiment had been a colossal failure; the scarcity of intelligent life, let alone amphibian, life was outrageous. Sponsoring subordinate species to antagonise the humans didn't even meaningfully reduce their numbers, let alone chase them off the land. She was at her wits end, an endless chain of failures and excuses trailed behind her. The arrival of the Great Old Ones was imminent, and Zeba'abaneg had nothing. Certainly she would would be gruesomely assimilated, but that wasn't even the worst of it; Zeba'abaneg wasn't sure that the Great Old Ones could harvest these humans. She'd felt the terrible might of the weapons they tested in the pacific; such energy. Never in the conquest of a thousand worlds had she witnessed such a thing. Could it end a Great Old One? Should she warn them not to come? It was blasphemy to even think, let alone speak such things. Even if she did warn them, the result would be the same - nobody would believe her, and they would come anyway (sooner, if anything, to punish her insolence).
There was one final option, banished to the darkest recesses of her fathomless mind, yet dwelled upon often in these final days. She could abase herself unto humankind, entreating their mercy in return for her aid against the coming harvest. Would they accept? Did she have a choice? Whatever the case may be, time was short.
| 2014-10-17T12:01:01
| 2014-10-17T11:53:06
| 17
| 11
|
[WP] A disguised human spy at an alien university faces their toughest challenge yet: Human Culture & Biology 1001, taught by a horribly misinformed professor
|
"Strange." Said the professor as he looked over the new student enrolling in his class.
"I thought all the Qxi had died out long ago..."
"Uh... No, sir, there are still a few of us." Said Bob.
The professor took the stylus like object into one of his 14 hands and started to tap it on what Bob assumed was his lips. He looked over Bob the Qxi very carefully, studying him for what felt to Bob like forever.
"Very well, find a position conducive to learning in the blue colored zone."
"Yes professor"
"Make sure it's the blue colored zone not the blue colored zone." The professor said. "The blue colored zone is safe for your species, but the blue colored zone has species that exhale poisonous gases."
"Yes profe..." Bob trailed off.
Sheer panic set in as his gaze turned towards the student seating section, every zone was blue. Was this a cruel joke, did they know he was a spy and they were toying with him? No, he thought. The initial psycho analysis of the species that ran this campus didn't point to that type of behavior. No, this was something else, something to do with the way the species he was masquerading as would have perceived the color blue. He had an idea, a gambit for sure, but it was his only chance.
"Professor?" Bob said in a demurative manner.
"What?" The professor said in a perturbed manner as he turned his gaze back unto Bob the Qxi.
"I'm colorblind" said Bob.
"Oh" said the professor.
The professor made a quick signal with one of his hands and a small line of lights lit up below Bob's feet leading to an empty chair. Bob thanked the professor and moved to his seat. Bob situated himself and started to gather in his surroundings.
"Not that impressive" he thought to himself.
The room seemed to be less than 3000 square feet. Shaped like a slice of pizza with a bite taken out of the bottom. Auditorium style, with an assortment of different styled seating arrangements for the different variety of species that attended this university. As Bob gazed around the room he started to notice these strangely shimmering angles in the air.
"Forcefields, that was how they housed all these species in the same room" Bob thought to himself.
The last students were filling the classroom. The professor made a swift movement with three of his hands and the lights quickly dimmed in the classroom. A small stream of light erupted from the back wall, spilling an image onto the screen behind the professor. There was a murmur among the student's, some of the noises being made sounded like gasps. One of the students jumped out of their seat and ran out of the classroom, leaving a trail of viscous grey fluid behind them.
"I'll warn you all that this class is not for those with weak digestive systems" said the professor in an ominous manner.
Bob stared at the image on the screen, perplexed. He looked around at the different looks of horror and disgust on the student's faces. He looked back at the screen with confusion.
"Why was there an old meme on the board" Bob thought.
Why, it had to be over a hundred years old. Then it hit him, all that time they had spent on his disguise, his camouflage they called it. All superfluous. He couldn't help himself, the absurdity of it all was too much.
He erred in the biggest way possible, the one thing he could never do. He laughed, and once he started he couldn't stop, he knew he needed to, but that made it worse, made him laugh harder. He knew it was over, he knew they would find out, and all the horrors that came along with that revelation would soon be here. When he finally gained his composure he became aware that every eye in the room was trained on him.
"Would you like to let us in on the joke, Bob the Qxi?" Said the professor.
"Fuck it" Bob thought to himself.
He immediately stood up and placed two fingers under his mask, pushing the quick release hidden in a fold between the mask and his suit. The disguise slithered off, exposing his naked body to the class.
"THAT'S NOT A HUMAN BEING!" Bob shouted as he pointed to the board.
"THIS IS A HUMAN BEING" Bob pointed to himself.
Bob was breathing heavily, scanning the room, wondering where security would come from to take him away. Everyone was starring at him with.. bemusement? Embarrassment? It was hard to tell.
"And praytell, Bob the Qxi, if this is not a human being, what is it?" Said the professor with an air of bored superiority mixed with annoyance.
"It's a Dickbutt" said Bob in a matter of fact way.
The professor let out a small sigh... or a chuckle, or maybe both. He stood up and started a slow clap with all hands in unison. Seven golf claps simultaneously as he looked at Bob the Qxi.
"Glad to see we've identified the class clown, Bob the 'human'. Now, I have to say I'm rather impressed with your dedication to your craft, Bob the 'human, but next time you're going to pull a prank in my class, please don't shed your skin in front of the other students. There are many different species with many different backgrounds. Remember your micro-aggression training from orientation before you act out in this manner again, Bob the 'human'. Do you understand?"
"Uh... yes" Bob said as he took his seat, naked and bemused.
The professor began his lesson and Bob the 'human' pulled up the text book on the tablet built into his desk, flipped to chapter one, and began to learn all about the anatomy of a Dickbutt.
The end.
|
I pause, looking around the room at the equally confused stares. Slowly, hesitantly, trepidly, worriedly, anxiously, verbosely I raise my hand. "Sir," I call out.
"Yes uh," the professor pauses as he flicks through the sheet in his hand, "student number eighteen."
"*that's not a name moron*," I whisper softly, getting a giggle from the few students around me. "Sir!" I call out louder, my words slowing down to enunciate my point. "Have you uh...*seen*...a human?"
"Well of course I have," the professor splutters, slamming his hand against the virtual projector. "I've even taken a picture. Look at this! This is the abomination humanity is!"
"That's..." I swallow loudly, once again hesitating to raise my voice. "That's a bunch of humans sort of...joined," I finish, teetering off under the stares of those around me.
"Don't speak nonsense. This is how they pop out! Monstrous, isn't it?!" the professor speaks, gesturing roughly at the picture on the projector.
"Sir...look at the bottom right," I say loudly, determined to prove my point now. "What does it say?"
"Why there's nothing...there." The professor pauses as he notices the words at the bottom, the slightest sign of panic finally entering his eyes.
"It says Human Centipede^TM Sir. I believe the humans call it a movie sir. Fiction." I say, pointedly, along with the stares of the rest of the class. The professor gently places his shaking hands down onto the desk, his eyes staring heavily into its metallic shine. After a moment of silence his eyes slowly raise to meet mine, a solemn look entering them.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says calmly.
"Sir, it's down at the bottom right-" I start.
"Wait!" The professor screams out, a hint of panic escaping from his voice. "Wait," he says softer, mechanically turning around and reaching toward the projector. With a click it turns off and a disk pops out. Picking up the disk, he stares at it for a long, hard minute before suddenly slamming it against the desk. it cracks into two, clattering to the ground as everyone stares at him warily. He slowly, ever so slowly, turns around and faces us, speaking only a single sentence as if to make it all go away.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
| 2018-04-22T23:09:29
| 2018-04-22T22:42:29
| 505
| 147
|
[WP] Today on your 18th birthday you’re informed that your Middle Class life is a sham to teach you good values and your family is actually worth billions.
|
A gelid silence settled in the room. I was sitting on our tattered, avocado green sofa, staring at the pained smiles of my parents. I surveyed the room of our apartment.
There was the dining table made of particle board. The white fridge next to the brown toaster oven with fake wood veneer. The dish washer that we used like a drying rack because it could handle the "dish" part of its job title but not the "washer" part.
I thought of the non-descript scent that had accompanied my mattress when we brought it home from the thrift store - my brand-new used bed. The piece of plywood that served the role of a box springs. The cheap Walmart desk that bowed under the weight of the behemoth PC tower I fought with every night to do my homework.
"We read a lot of books," my dad was saying. He had clearly seen something on my face he hadn't liked, as there was a plaintive note in his voice. It didn't suit him. "They all said that it is best to teach your child good values instead of spoiling them with the reality. We just wanted what was best for you."
"Of course. That makes sense. I understand." I struggled to make my voice sound natural as I spoke, but it sounded alien, far away - like someone was playing a recording of my voice in the apartment next door.
I closed my eyes. The nights I had fallen asleep listening to the couple next door scream at each other. The puntable dog upstairs that always seemed to wait until I had a big test before he started barking. And the noise of the freeway that came in all summer long when the only way to survive the suffocating heat was to leave your window open all night.
"It's just a lot to take in," I said, seizing on the opportunity to be sincere. "What - how does it even work? Are we going to move? Or...do I get an allowance, or something?"
My mother gave me a smile that I'm sure she thought was encouraging. "It's in a trust. Obviously if something were to happen to us, you'd be completely taken care of, but since we're in good health - you should expect things to be more or less the same for the next seven years. Then you'll get the first payment from the trust. In the meantime, you can access funds to support higher education to prepare yourself for whatever kind of future you might want."
Below, on the street, was the used Corolla that usually got us to where we were going on time. Currently, it was parked just 20 feet away from the street corner where I got beat up for the first time. If you turned left there and went about 5 blocks, you got to my high school.
That was where the magic happened. My freshman year, upper classmen used threw me in dumpsters a few times because my clothes "made me look like garbage." My English teacher had failed as an author and made up for it by telling us how terrible our writing was.
"My future." My dream had been to be a writer until I started school there. If you did well in classes, you were simply ridiculed; if you read for pleasure, you were accosted. This was the place where my dream had been stabbed in the side and bled until it drained of all color.
But one thing it did have was an auto repair elective. My parents had made me take it, of course - they wanted me to learn an honest trade. It was not a good class, and it was led by someone who knew a lot about cars and nothing about teaching.
But I had learned enough. The reason people cut brake lines, for example, is because the brake fluid drains out and the brakes fail to operate. That, however, is a pretty crude technique and fairly easy to spot by a claims adjuster.
If you're going to go under the car anyway, you might as well just drain the master cylinder. You get the same effect without any physical evidence of tampering. Plus, there was something poetic, I thought, about letting the body of this car drain of fluid it needed to function, to survive. They even call it bleeding the lines. Bleeding.
There's that corner I mentioned before. Every Sunday, my parents, my wonderful parents, drive to that corner and turn right. And as they head to church, they crest a hill - one of the steepest in the area - with stop signs down the other side to encourage people to keep under a certain speed.
My parents were giving people. They gave me this experience, this sham existence.
It seems only fair that I give them something back. Their gift taught me how life involves pain. And I, in my generosity, have ensured that they will no longer experience that pain. It would be silly, really, to have to suffer when that suffering could be completely avoided.
|
"So all this time... I've been wearing Walmart brand shoes, eating bagged cereal, and *not* using an iPhone because you wanted to teach me how to appreciate, like, work, and stuff?" I asked.
"Son, it's easy to develop a sense of entitlement when you have access to so much." My dad said. "It takes a lot of work to remain humble."
"I get it, dad. Just promise me I don't have to breathe the same air as those dirty peons anymore." I begged.
"Excuse me?" My dad asked with an angry tone.
"Relax, dad, it was a joke. As long as I'm not a savage, I can handle being around them for a while." I laughed.
"That's not funny, son." My dad sulked.
"Neither is being made fun of in public school." I joked.
"This sense of humor of yours is disturbing." My dad said.
"Know what else is disturb--"
"Stop it, Danny!"
I was quiet for a minute, but then I started laughing.
"What is it?"
"You and mom acted poor for eighteen years just to instill some shoddy value system in me. You could have been going to the Bahamas five times a year!" I laughed harder. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
My dad exhaled sharply.
"Dad, I'm joking. Let's go get hookers."
| 2017-12-28T12:57:55
| 2017-12-28T10:15:06
| 228
| 154
|
[WP] The Genie looks at you puzzled 'So... you wish for everyone to have 4 arms?', and you say 'yes, I wish that tomorrow everyone wakes up having 4 arms, no explanation, just 4 arms, and if they only had 1 arm or none now they have 4'
|
The Genie snapped its fingers and it was done.
I went home, barely able to contain my excitement. By this time tomorrow, it will happen - everyone in the world will have an extra set of arms. I was overjoyed that I was able to think of it, even on such short notice, but it makes perfect sense, really. I mean, the possibilities?
As I got home and made myself a cup of mint tea, I thought about the various ways to use the extra arms with a smile on my face. You'll be able to pet *two more dogs* at the same time. Surgeons would possess an extra level of dexterity that will undoubtedly save lives. Someone will surely learn to play the violin and piano at once. Boxing will get infinitely more interesting. And, oh, the *massages*!
I'm sure it will be even more appreciated by those who lost one or both arms, too. They get them back! With interest! I mean imagine yourself with no arms, unable to scratch your back, then you wake up with 4 times as many- wait, 4 times zero is still- *whatever*.
I wonder if my second pair will be right or left-handed. *Hmm*.
Only downside I can think of is the inevitable years and years of Goro jokes.
The night came and despite my heart pounding, I was able to eventually fall asleep.
A cacophony of screams woke me up in the morning. Such drama queens. They'll understand soon, and thank me. I looked down; there they were! Two more arms just below my original ones. I wiggled the fingers on my new pair with little to no clumsiness; felt natural.
My happiness knew no bounds. I had to do something.
So I clapped.
*Twice at the same time.*
|
**"...but why would you—"**
"Wasn't done. The two arms, they've gotta be all ursine."
"Ursine as in, uh, bears?"
"You're the all-knowing, all-powerful entity here. Yes, as in bears."
"I have wisdom beyond humanity's comprehension, and yet I still have absolutely no idea why you would ever want that."
"No, no, it's not about me, you see. It's about my freedoms."
"Your freedoms?"
"Yeah. Spelled out right in the Constertution. Everyone has a right to bear arms."
"That... that's not what that—"
"Hey! Are you giving the orders, or am I?"
"...yes, master. Your wish will be granted. Hey, don't you think it's a little hypocritical to use an enslaved genie to protect your freedoms?"
"Huh? Tell me where the Founding Fathers said 'thou shalt not use an enslaved genie to give everyone bear arms.'"
"...Never mind."
A.N.
Just something silly that popped into my head when I saw this. If you want to see some other silly things by me, I write a webserial based on writing prompts [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), and more at r/bubblewriters.
| 2022-07-11T08:17:38
| 2022-07-11T07:47:12
| 989
| 714
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"What?"
"I asked what the downside is."
"I've just told you."
"No you haven't."
"Yes, I have."
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"Then why don't I remember?"
My ears seemed to fill with cotton, and I grew dizzy as she spoke once more.
"That ought to teach you lesson."
I blinked. "Sorry what was the curse again?"
The woman unleashed an ear rending shriek and slammed the door in my face.
"Ah kay then." I spun and walked out toward the gate. A sudden flash of deja-vu struck me as I touched the handle.
Oh yeah, I meant to ask her something.
I turned around once more, and knocked on the door.
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
| 2019-06-25T12:10:56
| 2019-06-25T09:48:32
| 76
| 54
|
[WP] A year ago, the newest member of the Interplanetary Community of the Milky Way, humanity, was welcomed. However, millions of kind aliens donated a great amount of money to a prince of a place called Nigeria who lost his throne, and no one has heard back from him since.
|
**Intergalactic Community of the Milky Way, Transfer Station 8485T34R-287, Consul Corridor D**
"They've done what?"
"They made a formal request for Expedited Handling to Terrestrial Situation with Vectors of Formal Interplanetary Communications Involv..."
"Stop, just stop." Secondary Ambassador James Fink rubbed his forehead forcefully and groaned. After a moment he straightened and took a deep breath of the station's recycled air "If the issue is Terrestrial, then why....wait, vectors of Formal Interplanetary Communications? We haven't had any communications through official channels."
"Sir, they..."
Fink cut him off again with a raised finger. With his other hand he tapped out a comm code that connected him with Central Communications. He started to sweat a little bit, remembering how his predecessor Secondary Ambassador Nark had found he was being replaced only after realizing his quarters had been re-assigned. "This is Sec Am Fink, I need to know if there have been any official communications through any channels in the past ten days. Are all communications being properly routed?"
"Yes sir, all communications are correct and proper." Barked back a voice.
"Okay, thank you." Fink disconnected and sat stewing for a moment, rubbing his chin as though he were trying to scrub it clean. He wondered if he could get a good cabin on the next ship home. He noticed the Assistant under Assistant still standing there. "Well? Tell me whose out there."
“Sir, it's a delegation of about...”
“A delegation?” Fink interrupted. His hand immediately slapped across his mouth with embarrassment in front of the junior officer.
“Well sir, that's just it.”
“We don't keep delegations waiting AUA....what's your name?” Fink asked the man.
"Twitchell sir, but sir, I need to…”
“AUA Twitchell, show the delegation in.” Fink straightened himself and brushed an imaginary mote of dust from the front of his suit.
Twitchell opened his mouth again then froze and closed it. He paused and smiled. "Actually sir, it might be better if you joined them in reception. It's a rather large delegation.”
Reception was crowded, and the vast array of life throughout the whole of the Interplanetary Community of the Milky way seemed to be represented. Eyestalks rose, colorful blobs in their mobile packs, sharp claws in white gloves rested on the carpet, floating avatar globes representing lifeforms of different atmospheres and through the double doors out in the main corridor of the consulate he could see the immense hulking form three of Shiarfobe. Sitting on the reception desk there was even a Edhusita.
Fink crossed his arms reflexively, his smile so broad his teeth didn't touch. "How can I help you?" He asked nervously, his forehead glistening with sweat, his undershirt soaked all the way through.
There were a few seconds of silence as the translators of a hundred or more languages did their magic. During those seconds Fink lost feeling in his legs.
A representative moved forward, luckily not the Edhusita and gave what Fink assumed was a ritual greeting, nodes gyrating, and what might be a mouth or an eye burbling and rotation. The Secondary Ambassador's smile never shifted.
Twitchell leaned in. "Yes Your Griuittch," the AUA said smoothly although the spitting and pronunciation should have required two tongues on a human, and pointed, "down the hall and to your spittif."
"Restroom?"
"Restroom."
Another representative moved forward, this one much more human in that it was bipedal. It hesitated for a moment then switched it's translator settings. Fink saw that it would allow the planetary officer to speak to him in English, but broadcast a translation for the crowd.
“You are Secam Fink, in the affirmative.” The being said. Fink was impressed, not many on the station had tried to learn *'Human'* as it was called.
“Yes.”
“This being is Simple Hisira. We this delegation of come to lodge a formal complaint and request look search into the monetary transaction system of your planet. Ground has been a member of this community for a sufficient period of time for your systems to have begun a formal transition.”
Fink bristled for a moment at the reference to Earth's name, but brought his smile back quickly. "I am certain that our planet's banking...um, monetary transaction system is fine.”
“We of the assembled delegation find this hard to believe. Multiple members, more than represented here, have been contacted about failures in transactions.”
“You've been contacted?” Fink’s eye twitched a bit.
“And asked for assistance help. And many members here, because we are members and work within the rule thirty-four, have approached your system to fender aid and transacted. We have found the flaw.”
AUA Twitchell choked down a laugh as Fink shot him a nasty look. Fink turned back to the representative. "You have been transacting? With people back on Earth? All of you?"
“Affirmative. And we all have found flaw. If ground wishes to remain a member of the Community, standard must be attained. It is grow, grow, that ground remains decedent, and with transactions of royalty.”
"Which royalty? Who, who, whose royalty?" Stuttered nervously. Ambassador Nunn was extremely conscious of Community royal delegations wishing to visit Earth. The thought of them doing business there might cause the old man heart trouble.
“Royalty of Ground.”
Twitchell interjected. “I'm sorry your Simple, Royalty of Ground?”
“Affirmative, I and many others here have been contacted by a, the sound you make, a penis of one of your localities. He has been attempting to join us here in the community of you transaction system has confined him. We have transacted with this being is search of aid, to aid help him.”
“Penis? Royalty.” Fink found his voice, which had been slowly trying to make it’s way down his throat to the liver where it sure there might be some alcohol stashed somewhere.
“We have little interest in your local bistous, planetary bistous. This penis of Nigeria has been attempting to....”
“Penis of Nigeria? Royalty? Did you mean Prince of Nigeria?”
The being gave the intergalactic symbol of ‘*maybe’* recognized on every planet and most moons (MOST moons, not all!), the shrug.
Fink gave the being a puzzled look while off to his right Twitchell consulted his multipad. The being that had used the facilities came back two shades brighter, and feeling much more relaxed.
*How to explain to the Simple that there was no royalty of the planet Earth*, after first *explaining that the proper name of Earth is Earth* rattled through Fink's head. He'd need a complete refreshment after this, and a drink or six and how he could work the clearing up this little misunderstanding into a promotion of sorts. Senior Secondary Ambassador James Fink sounded nice. This train of thought stopped with Twitchell made a strange noise.
“Secondary Ambassador Fink, if I could have a word.”
To the room the two humans did something strange. They brought their unisockets together, the one used for visual and oral communication. Some low sounds were whispered. Then more low sounds. Then a very loud sound was made by the Secam. And then the Secam appeared to go into a kind of hibernation. The being's form just collapsed in on itself. Well, that did happen from time to time, but not scheduling a hibernation was very unprofessional. Perhaps it couldn't be helped.
Simple Hisira asked the other human if the delegation could have an audience with the Ambass. The other human agreed.
|
(several human mercenaries are being greeted by an alien general named Pogo on the cold frozen planet of Hothori)
"You humans are some of the best soldiers money can buy, since you helped bring peace to Hothori the galactic senate has decided it's about time we pay your planet back" Pogo says while standing in front of his squad of multinational human mercenaries. A Russian speaks up "We returning to earth sir?" the generals response of "yes Nikita, you are" is quickly overshadowed by numerous other mercenaries reminiscing about there time on earth and how great it will be back to return after all these years.
Pogo: \*pulling out a piece of paper\* "our new assignment is to track down Nigerian King Obateru Akinruntan and check up on his aid requests"
"Nigeria isn't a kingdom though? its a presidential republic........... they have a president not an Emperor" an American says while confused.
Pogo: "C'mon Anderson I know you've been away from earth for a few years but everyone in the galaxy knows of the plight of Obateru and his vast intercontinental Empire. We get his emails every month"
Anderson looks to Nikita as they both look back to Pogo in disbelief. "With all do respect General................... how much money did the galactic empire send to this Obateru?" Nikita says while he looks at some of the other nervous mercenaries.
Pogo: "well, his empire is undergoing famine and drought and war and other bad things so you know just the normal amount of interplanetary aid."
Anderson: "oh boy"
Nikita: "how much was it Pogo?"
Pogo: "well I got to do some math really quick, exchange galactic credits to Euros, and take in account the logistic and military support as well a......." Pogo is cut off by Nikita. "HOW MUCH DID YOU SEND?"
Pogo: ".............. about a hundred trillion euros"
The squad fell silent as no one could make eye contact with the general. A few tense moments pass before pogo lets out a "what's the problem? Rivera...... you seem awfully silent." The squad turns to face the Colombian special forces operator.
Rivera: "sir...... that's more than the entire GDP of our planet"
Anderson: "and you gave it to a single individual"
Nikita: "Someone that doesn't even control a country"
Pogo: \*concerned\* "are you telling me the galactic empire was scammed?........... EVERYONE ON THE SHIP NOW"
The squad piles into the spacecraft as tension fills the silent hull. "Hey, it will be fine sometimes these things happen..... earthlings fall for these types of scams all the time" A mercenary says trying to comfort the general.
Pogo without saying a word pulls out a data log with schematics for large space fairing battle cursers and robotic soldiers with high powered laser rifles.
Nikita: \*looking closely\* "With this much firepower a single man could conquer the world"
Pogo: \*holding back tears\* "it gets worse.... we have been sending him military aid for almost a decade as well as funding for just as long"
Nikita: "AND YOU NEVER BOTHERED TO SEE WHAT HE WAS DOING WITH IT OR IF HE WAS EVEN REALLY A KING?"
Pogo: "........ me and the rest of the galactic ruling staff mostly just use earth to recruit mercenaries, we don't follow your politics."
A loud robotic voice is heard over the intercoms "We will reach earth in 60 seconds"
The ship enters earths atmosphere and is immediately shot with emp missiles from a large spacecraft with the flag of Nigeria painted on the side.
"Our shields weapons and engine are offline general" Rivera says while trying to establish communications.
Rivera: "a message is coming through"
"YOU HAVE ENTERED NEW NIGERIAN PLANITARY AIRSPACE, PREPARE TO BE BORDED" the large cruiser signals before smaller craft are seen landing near the loading bay. Nikita and Anderson pull out their side arms and aim it at the door.
Anderson: \*looking out the window and down towards earth\* "we're over Siberia, we should be in Russian Airspace"
Nikita: "Looks like Nigeria controls the world now"
| 2021-01-08T18:30:37
| 2021-01-08T17:45:27
| 58
| 42
|
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
"... at number two, it has been confirmed that former President Barack Obama has the #2 Dad Mug and it is no surprise there given how he set himself as an exemplary dad during his stay at the White House."
"Right you are Stacy. Despite juggling between being a dad and the president of this great country, I'm quite surprised he didn't get the number one... Wait... Hold on..."
(An envelope has been given to John by one of the producers)
"This just in folks. We now have the name of the dad who has the #1 dad mug inside this envelope".
"According to our producers, it has been confirmed and verified by the experts on the legitimacy of the mug. However, we have been informed the dad in question has recently passed away and the mug is now in the hand of the family".
"Well then Stacy, shall I open the envelope?".
"Yes John. Let us be the first to reveal the name of the number one dad in the world".
(John opens the envelope and took out the paper)
"And the number one dad's name is...umm..."
"...is...?"
"...Ted. Ted the accountant".
|
Joe Mills had a #1 Dad mug, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to actually be a dad. His wife, Lucy, had had a miscarriage a month after she bought him the mug to celebrate the long-awaited positive pregnancy test.
Months after the miscarriage occurred, Joe was sorting through their guest room closet, which held all of the baby items they bought. He opened a box, looked inside, and had to stop himself from dropping it.
#3,062,487 Dad?
He sunk to his knees and called for Lucy. He was finally going to be a dad.
| 2022-05-16T13:47:51
| 2017-06-11T11:14:29
| 70
| 46
|
[WP] Google begins matching up people based on their search history in their new Google Dating program.
Edit: Wow, this got to the front page fast.
|
My hands tremble as the cursor hovers around a box labeled "Accept Terms and Conditions" as I stare blankly at my dimly lit monitor through the smoke-filled air. I didn't think it'd be this big of a deal to try out the new Google Dating program, but now that I'm actually doing it, I can't bring myself to click the button. I thought I wouldn't have to be nervous... It's just some dumb new app, but it's cool, right? I heard about it at school and it seems like all my other friends are sharing their awesome stories about it so why not give it a try? I try to convince myself not to make too much of a big deal about it, but my body is tensing up; I feel like I'm in line for a roller coaster - the feeling of nervous excitement that rides between anticipation and fear. I've never really thought about it, but the first page of the website only mentions that the criteria for selecting a partner is based off of your Google search history but just how exactly do they know *my* search history?
Or, rather...I mean - I think I should explain some things first. I have some very...*specific* interests. I mean, you know what they say, "he's a growing boy" , right? Hah-Well, the thing is...I don't think my friends and family would ever look at me the same way if they knew the kinds of things I was into you know? It started off pretty 'normal' , or 'vanilla' I guess they would call it. At first, I was just a 'lurker' on some forums, but once I started joining the communities, I even became a regular poster and before I knew it, the normal stuff couldn't satisfy me anymore. And that's why I do a lot of my searching on Incognito now and well... the dating program never explains *how* they get that information, or if they somehow track your incognito searches too.
I hesitate and swat my hand through the smoke and reach around. I see the outline of a black rectangle and reach for my phone. Instagram - or, maybe I'll send a sna- "No-no-no. Stop.", I think to myself. I can't let myself get distracted now. I can't go back to school for another day of looking back at John's smug-ass grin as he taunts me with the usual rhetoric. "What's the matter, can't find a girlfriend because your search history's too messed up? I bet you're on a list somewhere you sick fuck." Then he'll laugh and follow up with "Already on the list, might as well go all the way, *amiriiiiite*?", sneering and dragging out the last word as he saunters away, clearly pleased with his latest crack of the day.
I slam the desk in frustration and instinctively reach out to another black box on my desk. I stop myself just as my fingers glide over the corners of its smooth finish and the silver tube coming out of it glimmers slightly in the light from my monitor. No, not yet. I yearn for its sweet release, but that time will have to wait. I turn my attention back to my computer screen and click 'Accept'. A small display appears saying "Searching Google Database". I stretch my neck forward, inching closer to the screen as a small dialogue appears with the text "Search: 86% Complete. Results: 0".
My heart sinks and I feel all my hope and excitement deflate into oblivion. All those people and not a single match? I can't stand to watch but I keep the window open anyways even though I doubt I'll get any last-minute matches. The warm hum of my computer running is the only sound in my otherwise quiet room until I hear a *ding* and I open my eyes and do a double-take. "Search Complete: 1 match found. Connect Now?"
"Oh god, yes! I've done it!", I scream internally as relief washes over me and carries away all the worries and panic of the past few minutes. This must be a sign, right? There must be something special about only getting one match, that saying about your one true love and all that. "But wait, what should I even talk about?" I think as I absent mindedly click the OK button. "Ah, that's right...we both have the mutual search history thing to talk about", I chuckle to myself for being so silly. The Dating Program connects me to a simple screen with my match's name on it. "Jane" it says with some miscellaneous information written below a chatbox. Trying to get the first word in, I put my hands down on the keyboard getting ready to type when suddenly the left and right hand sides of the screen are flooded with our search histories on display. I nearly jump out of my seat. It's showing our entire search histories to *BOTH of us*??!?? I scramble to try and disconnect the chat session and I freeze as I read through them and realize her search history has absolutely nothing to do with mine; it's fairly mundane items like fashion sales and homework help. It's when I read my own search history on the left that my jaw drops to the floor. Forget *including* my incognito search history, it looks like my profile is the only one that contains *only* my private browsing history!
I can't move a single muscle; I'm frozen staring blankly at the screen, wondering how I can try and explain this. Suddenly, both our webcams turn on and connect without warning and I find myself face to face with a slender girl with light, blonde hair whose pale skin is getting redder and redder by the second. I try to stammer out some kind of explanation - anything. "You see, I-", I pause as I try and figure out how to continue. I start to try and explain how I acquired this particular interest and how how I got started when I bought it online from someone with questionable personal hygiene. I grab it off my desk and try to explain but she lets out a very audible groan as I raise the the object up to the webcam. Jane looks at me with pure disdain as I can see through her webcam very clearly reaching over to disconnect the chat session. I try to stammer out an explanation but all I hear as the screen fades to black is "I get it, you vape!"
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Google started matching people up on it's new Google Date® by using their search history to determine who was a match for who.
Within days the project was shut down, and the person heading the project was fired. Although no personal search data was directly revealed, as the criteria for matches was hidden and determined on the servers side, there was still considerable uproar over it. Anyone with a Google plus account was automatically added to the program, so people were essentially added without their consent. And other people with Google accounts were able to see who they were matched with, so they were able to clue in to people's search results based on their searches and who they were matched with. The issue was rather small, and not many people had their very sensitive data revealed, as their fetishes and unusual searches were mostly done on computers without Google accounts linked, or done in incognito mode. And people's unusual searches were mostly drowned out by more matchable regular searches. And after all, nobody really could tell people that they suspected their match watched weird porn, because that would reveal that the only reason they suspected, was because they themselves watched weird porn.
So Google had a PR disaster, and a few lawsuits on hand. And like 1000 people now have a slight and hidden suspicion that the person they were matched on Google Date® watches weird porn.
| 2017-05-25T13:15:51
| 2017-05-25T12:30:49
| 25
| 18
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[WP] Write a story where the good guy is actually the bad guy, but it's only revealed on the last line.
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"Do you know how many chefs there are in the world?", he asked as he casually sliced and diced an onion, not pausing for a response. "You don't get to be on top by being average. You have to stand out. Make a name for yourself." He placed the onions in a hot skillet, and they sizzled sharply when they touched the hot pan.
"You have to work hard and make sacrifices to get ahead in this business. I've spent my entire life making a name for myself. It takes focus and hard work to get to where I am. I've put in the time and now it's finally paying off. Keep your focus and find a way to stand out, and you too could be where I am."
The onions were transulent and added to the dish. The aroma from the kitchen was fragrant and full.
"Voila, the last African Rhino. Bon appetite!"
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The white wine was a treat. It slipped from the ice bucket gleaming and dripping wet, before the waiter ran a cloth over the bottle expertly and poured it into the delicate glasses. Three men sat around the table, one on each side, and none of them trusted the other. They each wore suits worth thousands, rings with family crests, and to a man they ignored the waiter while he poured from the bottle that would have cost his month's salary. The fourth man wore a suit slightly too large and his fingers were bare except for a wedding ring.
Hardy was the unspoken leader of their group. He wore his hair clipped short and that night, he was breathless with excitement, though he refused to show it. Before this meal with his business partners, he'd cracked open a bottle of champagne with Sandra. She had stripped down to show him what she wore beneath the black dress, and told him to hurry home. Hardy didn't intend to stay for dessert. She waited in the bedroom of their apartment: already ten times bigger than the cramped hole he'd had in college.
"So the plans are finalised?" Young asked. Hardy nodded. He dismissed the waiter with a flick of his fingers and leaned in to the other four.
"Twenty four floors," he said calmly, belying his swift pulse. "A gym, a high-end mall on the bottom floor, luxury apartments, and even a spa, if they approve it." *His* plans. Hardy was the only architect of the group, and this building would make his name, he was sure of it. The apartment would become a house in the suburb, and Sandra could finally have the children he'd promised her.
"Do we have to pay any more?" asked Stevens, who had already poured millions of his own money into the project. Some of it had even been legal.
"No, it's done. The payments have been accepted. Groundwork should begin Monday," Hardy replied.
"Then why are we drinking white when we should be drinking champagne?" Leyland snapped. He nodded at the waiter. "If it's already done, Hardy?"
"Yes," Hardy nodded. He winced. He'd never be one of these men, no matter how much he dressed or what he drank. They had something he couldn't have, because they'd been born with it.
The waiter approached again, obsequious and humble. "Another bottle of wine, sirs?" he asked.
"No, just bring us some champagne," Leyland said. "Whatever you've got, we're celebrating."
"This boy's just designed the city's new landmark," Stevens slapped his palm on Hardy's shoulder and he winced. "You'll see it go up soon, the Hardy Tower."
The waiter's face settled into a grim line.
"Oh, I've heard of it," he replied. "I'm one of the people you're evicting for it to be built, Mr. Hardy. I hope you enjoy your champagne."
| 2016-08-20T07:57:51
| 2016-08-20T04:44:25
| 86
| 48
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[WP] You are a relationship advice columnist gone rogue. Every week, you are determined to give the worst possible advice but still disguise it so it looks totally legitimate. Write this week's column.
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*Dear Ms. Knows-It-All,*
*My future daughter-in-law is driving me crazy! Their wedding is coming up soon, and the girl is just hopeless at wedding planning. I’ve sent her page after page of suggestions, and I’m starting to worry that none of them are being taken. I’ve told her we’d be happy to pay for the petting zoo, but she turned down the money, saying she just wants to do it “her way.” She’s even refusing my husband prima nocta! Am I being unreasonable by putting up fliers around town calling her a trailer trash whore? - Frustrated in Fresno*
Hi Frustrated,
I think what you’re feeling is the typical stress any mother-in-law feels while giving her son away. In this case, that stress is being understandably amplified by the fact that your son apparently chose to marry a classless prostitute. In other words, no, I don’t think you’re being unreasonable!
Part of married life is learning to take advice from your elders with grace, and the happiest day of their lives is a great time to enforce a punitive and dramatic lesson. I suggest you publicly refuse to go to the wedding, then show up in a white dress and throw a glass of red wine onto the bride. It will help her understand that mother-in-law knows best, and set a great precedent that can only strengthen your relationship in the years to come.
*Dear Ms. Knows-It-All,*
*I came home the other day to find my husband in bed with my best friend!! I can’t believe it. This isn’t the first time he’s cheated, but I’m really hurt that he would do it with someone so close to me. The worst part was his lame excuse: “she was just helping me look for my underwear!” I’ve fallen for his lies for eight years, and I’m about ready to call it quits. What should I do? - Cheated On in California*
Hi Cheated On,
I know your heart hurts right now, and that’s perfectly normal. That said, please don’t do anything rash. I’ve received many versions of your letter over the years, and one thing I’ve noticed is that those so-called "lame" excuses are *always true*. It’s perfectly plausible to think that your husband lost his underwear, called your best friend for help, and then fell over into her while both were naked on the bed at the exact moment you walked in the door.
It happens to someone every day.
I do think you should talk to your husband and your best friend, but please don’t act out. You should apologize for your paranoid inferences and ask them to give you another shot. Then, please, take some time for yourself – maybe a spa vacation for a few days? That way, your husband and your friend can have some uninterrupted time between them to make sure this mistake never happens again.
*Dear Ms. Knows-It-All,*
*My girlfriend and I are thinking of getting a pet, but we can’t decide between a cat and a dog. I was always a dog person growing up, but my girlfriend prefers kitties! We can’t stop fighting about it. In the interest of relationship harmony, we agreed to accept your decision on the matter. – Pet Lovers in Portland*
Hi Pet Lovers,
Handling a disagreement between people with deep-seated preferences by writing to someone you’ve never met was a very smart way to handle this situation. While thinking about your problem, I realized there was a compromise here – an animal that combines the affectionate pack instincts of a dog with the fierce independence and playfulness of a cat. Since you said my decision would be binding and you left your address in your email footer, I went ahead and ordered a new pet to be delivered right to you.
Hope you enjoy your new lioness! She needs plenty of space to roam and a fresh zebra carcass every four days.
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The video clip was the last straw. Really. No, really. Please, listen. I wouldn't do any of this if it wasn't for the video
clip.
But come on. A girl's got a limit, right? A girl can only take so much.
So, when Adam left me for Innara, I was okay. I mean, not okay *okay* -- I wanted to reach inside my chest, pull my heart out and sing Radiohead to it until it stopped beating and released me from the nightmare that is life -- but, you know, that's the truth of any relationship, right? We all get sad.
We get especially sad when our boyfriend leaves us for our best friend, but, yeah, whatever. I got over it.
I was okay even when Adam's band, against all possible odds, actually made a deal with the record company and
released their first album and peaked at number 1 on Billboard. I mean, crap, I still loved the bastard, and now I
had to listen to his voice every day on the radio and see his face everywhere and all the while thinking *I could be
by his side right now.* But okay. Fine. I mean, Adele's ex-boyfriend has to deal with the fact that his breaking of
her heart led her to become a multi-millionaire singer. I can deal with my shit.
And then I read on People about the engagement, and there was a picture of Innara and Adam on the cover, and
*then*, *then* it started hurting, because come on! It's hard enough to get over a breakup on its own merits,
can you please not put my ex and his new lover (my former best friend) on the cover of every magazine in the
world?
That's about when the drinking started.
**Melany, from Oklahoma, wants to know what she can do to spice things up in bed with her husband.**
I write: *Dear Melany.* I write: *Men often lose interest in sex with their long term partners not because of their
bodies, or because of anything related to the woman, per se. It is an emotional issue, first and foremost. You see,
having a single partner goes against the nature of men and women, in that we are biologically wired to mate as
much as we can. This, in turn, reminds your man of the decaying, mortal aspect of his own body. As you know,
humans are forever split by a painful duality: mind vs body. We are Gods, in the sense that we can abstract the
world into thought, and yet, we are constantly reminded -- with every trip to the bathroom and with every sweat
we break and every haircut we get – that we are mortal animals, bound to go back to the nothingness from
whence we came.*
But then there was the music video.
Look, I know I'm not the sexiest girl around. I could afford to lose a few pounds, maybe do something about my
hair… hell, I could afford some better clothes, even, I just never had the patience for shopping.
Which is to say I *get* why he left me for Innara, with her boobs the size of my bitterness and her pouty lips and
her Colgate smile.
I mean, she's a model, for God's sake. I'm a Philosophy grad student. You do the math.
(Unless you're a model, in which case you're probably too stupid to do the math. Fuck you.)
So I get it. Go. Go be beautiful and happy and rich together, Adam and Innara, you clueless, sexy idiots.
To Melany, I write: *So, the longer your husband stays with you, the more he is reminded, unconsciously, of the
animal, rotting, decaying side of his self. This, of course, leads him to existential despair, which can be quite
crippling in bed. I mean, have you ever tried to have an orgasm while contemplating the futility of existence? Ever tried to get off while trying to figure out how men can have free will when we're bound to a deterministic universe? That's some hard stuff. And that **not** what she said.*
But then they made the video, Adam and Innara. For Adam's band. Instant hit. Most watched Youtube video of all
time. Featuring a bunch of other celebrities and all.
You know those videos that are popular nowadays, right? Lady GaGa does a bunch of them. It's a music video,
but it's also a short film, or whatever.
Adam and Innara starred in it, and it was clearly, undeniably, in-your-face about my relationship with Adam, and
I'm portrayed as the biggest bitchy-bitch in the whole wide world and, though it doesn't name me, Adam is
famous enough that he makes people around him famous by proxy, so everyone knew it was me. The untold story
of Adam and Bitchy-bitch Joy, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Booze.
To Melany, I go on: *What you have to do, the next time you're in bed together, is sit down with your man, brush
your fingers through his hair and say "Honey… we're all gonna die someday." Let it sink in. Tell him "Love is the
biological mechanism natural selection devised to trick us into fucking for the sake of our genes." See how he deals
with that one. What you have to do is exposure therapy: get him to face these realities of life. Talk about death.
Talk about pain. Talk about futility and the heat death of the universe. Keep going until you notice the erection.*
I became the laughing stock of the country overnight. I mean, thank God middle-aged women don't keep up with
rock bands, because otherwise I would have lost my fanbase on the column, and my job, probably.
And that's when it became too much, and when I said "Welp, I might as well drink," and now I have a drinking
problem, though I'd argue it's not a problem until I stop enjoying it, which hasn't happened yet.
And the truth is, I want to take my revenge on him, I do. And on her. And I'll get to them, eventually.
But right now? Right now I'm pissed off at *love*. I'm pissed off at happy couples and sad couples and meh
couples and everyone I see holding hands together walking down the street like 'Oh, ain't life grand?'
It ain't. It's misery. That's Philosophy 101.
And I'm not strong and I can't beat the shit out of couples in love like I'd want to. But I *can* make some damage with words, the ones I learned in college.
So… I take what I can get, until I get to Adam and Innara -- the ultimate loving couple I want to ruin.
My last stop on the way to CrazyCatLadyVille. The climax to The Waltz of Bitter Joy.
I'll get to them, someday. Because fuck love, that's how I feel right now.
While I wait, much like Sweeney Todd's 'practice on less honorable throats,' I ruin other couple's lives.
And you know what? I'm not lying. I'm just giving bad advice, but it's all true, really. Read it up. Life sucks, that's
the general consensus among professionals.
To Melany, I write: *When the lovemaking beings, don't forget to quote from some of the best. Camus is always a
good start. Try whispering into his ear: "In the end one needs more courage to live than to kill himself." Or "There
is not love of life without despair about life." Or, better yet, "Since we're all going to die, it's obvious that when and
how don't matter." Just do it. Watch his reaction. If he gets sad or frustrated, it just means it's working.*
________
/r/psycho_alpaca
| 2016-08-22T07:46:01
| 2016-08-22T06:53:20
| 32
| 17
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[WP] There is an average of 9,728 planes carrying 1,270,406 passengers in the sky at any given time. As these flights touch down at their airports they find them empty. In fact everywhere seems too be empty. The only people left were those in the air from commercial jetliner to single engine prop.
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11:00 PM, Tuesday March 25th. As Commercial Liner 774 touched down in LaGuardia Airport in New York City, and her passengers disembarked, they weren’t met with ground crew to properly dock with. Air Control had been dead for some time now. Mordecai, a lanky 20-something year old, was one of the first to ride down 774’s emergency slide, and saw the entirety of the air field barren. As others followed his lead, he rushed towards the airport. He’d never been the athletic type, but with fear and adrenaline pumping throughout his body, his wild and manic dashing got him inside by a considerable margin.
Flickering lights, luggage belts still looping, and an eerie silence is all that was left. He put a hand over his mouth, tears rolling down his petrified face. “I didn’t want this…” His words bounced off the walls, and reverberated through the hollow halls. “I take it back! I take it back! Take back my wish!” He was screaming, but no one could hear his cries. He’d been angry, and in a moment of weakness, he’d wished the unthinkable upon those he loved. His family, his girlfriend, Mordecai had unknowingly made them disappear. He made the whole world disappear simply because he was tired of them. But now he was terrified of being without them.
A loud shuttering came from overhead, shaking the still airport. Mordecai darted towards the nearest window, and saw dozens of planes touching down in the airfield. He fell to his knees, knowing full well he was to blame for such horrible loss of life. In a few minutes, people would pour inside, searching desperately for their loved ones, only to be all alone. Just like him. Mordecai’s hands fell to his knees, eyes puffy and red.
“Please…” He begged the nameless meteor he’d spoken to once before, “Let me pretend that airplanes in the night sky are shooting stars…” He sniffed, “I could really use a wish right now…”
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"Everyone stay calm!" I yelled in pure desperation as we saw the being chasing after us, the flesh and blood of everyone else on earth heading towards us, to add us to the collective. I know it'll tire out soon, and when it does, it should die. This is the thing that had stolen everyone from ground zero...
We landed down and expected to see more people, but they all had disappeared, in fact, we all were the only ones there, we managed to contact air plane pilots to see if they had disappeared, and nope, they hadn't
"The hell's going on here?" My co-pilot had said in a graspy, confused tone, almost sounding like he had barely any air "Everyone just upped and disappeared" "I know" I replied quickly, softly and calmly. "It has to be one of those creatures" "Those creatures? You mean the ones stuck in the cave we saw whilst we were scuba divers?" My co-pilot had said, this time in a shaking, scared tone, whilst still retaining that grasping for air sounding breaths. "Those things forced me to have therapy for months" "I know" I replied as I came across the creature I knew we were about to face...
The Human Snatcher had stolen the entirety of our diving crew back then, we knew it had offsprings, we saw them before it attacked us, but to know that they could have evolved to be on land, and how big that one got after eating its offspring to attack us, I had to funnel everyone into the airplane.
Before we knew it, we heard thumps, then we saw it on the horizon, I quickly saw it trying to ambush us, and in a move I knew I would have to do to save us, I had to fly upside down and control the pitch, yaw, and roll perfectly to do a quick 180, people started panicking, airplanes started turning in all different directions, and in a desperate attempt, I yelled...
"Everyone stay calm!" to everybody in the airplane, it wasn't gaining on us, but I knew we had to get higher to avoid the fleshy debris when this thing died...it obviously had fed on its own kind, and was expecting to eat us all then reproduce, if we could outrun it, it would die, killing The Human Snatcher off, but also killing thousands, It seemed to be speeding up, so I and a couple other airplanes decided to try to go over the monster...
It was a risky stunt, one wrong move and we'd be dead, but as we all cheered, the monster had been flown over, chasing some birds it thought was us, as we flew away, we saw it blow up into tiny pieces, it had used up all of it's energy, the energy usually used to sustain itself from exploding due to how much mass it had built up to snatch and absorbed humans, and most of us were heading towards the airport...
as we all landed, 1,270,406 people simultaneously did a sigh of relief, as I talked to my Co-pilot...I couldn't help but feel the other monsters we saw would get involved...I shudder at the thought of that...
| 2021-08-14T03:15:24
| 2021-08-13T22:35:46
| 184
| 22
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[WP] You are an Ancient Dragon who had served the royal bloodline for centuries. Then, the famously arrogant and prideful Prince of another kingdom showed up at the capital's doorstep with an army and a demand. "Give me the princess's hand in marriage, or suffer my wrath."
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"Your wrath? Child, I have regrets older than your parents and yet you intend to threaten me? For my daughter?" Grand Artificer Archibal stared down at the young prince; Prince Elroy of the Kingdom of Seleswind.
"You know what I can do, who I can rally. I was promised a princess bride by my nineteenth birthday and I. Will. Have. Her. Or else."
"Henrietta, call down to the Foundry, let Bernadette know she has a guest." Henrietta, wife to Archibal and the Grand Archivist, nodded before pressing a button on the table next to her.
"Aye! This is Gruff. What can I do fer ya yer majesty?" A deep voice rang out from everywhere and nowhere. Prince Elroy looked around confused at the sound, though he went ignored.
"Yes, could you be a dear and send Bernie and Xen up to the Grand Hall? Bernie has a guest waiting." "Aye, will do your majesty." "Thank you." With that, Henrietta released the button and turned to face Elroy once again. "It will be only a moment, just wait there. Would you care for some tea?"
Meanwhile, deep below the Grand Hall was a room, a large seemingly endless room, rife with the sounds of metal scraping and hammers ringing. Illuminated only by the glow of molten metal moving around in ducts both above and below the ground, dozens of people stood; hammers and drills and saws and tools of unknown purpose in their hands. Each had their station, and each was deep in their work. Near the center of the room was an anvil larger than any other, easily towering over every man within the Foundry. There, hammering away at a metal glowing an eerie purple, was a dragon. With him was a young girl, maybe no more than 17 years of age, happily sitting on his shoulder, her attention fixed on the metal the dragon worked. "Master Xeniloph, when are you gonna tell me what yer makin?" The girl asked the dragon without turning her gaze.
"Soon little one, soon. I said this will be a gift for your birthday, and i meant that. Now, can you tell me how-" Before Xeniloph could finish his question, he was interrupted by a stout man approaching him, waving his arms over his head in an attempt to draw attention.
"OI! Lil miss, yer mum's lookn' fer ya! Says you got a visitor or sumthin." Sighing, Bernadette slides off Xeniloph's shoulder before dusting off her overalls. Flakes of iron and copper fall to the floor as she smooths her hair and walks towards the man.
"Awright, thanks Gruff! C'mon Xen, let's go see who's lookin' fer me!"
"Little one, I am mid forge. I cannot stop my work now. Hurry along and let your parents know I'll follow shortly after. Just need to get this back to a stable form." As he spoke, his hammer strikes punctuated every word, the glow turning a dull blue as he continued.
"Awright, don't take too long though Master Xen." With that, the girl turned and made her way towards the stairs.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
"Awri- er, \*ahem\*, alright. I'm here, terribly sorry for the wait. Who is this guest for me?" Bernie entered the Grand Hall, her overalls now removed as she tried, and failed, to straighten out the dress she had on underneath. Singe marks were visible along the frills of her dress, with pieces of iron still visible in her hair.
"Ah, finally my beloved, you arrive. I am Prince Elroy, and you must be Princess Bernadette, my promised wife to be." Prince Elroy gave an overly dramatic bow as he said this. Turning his head slightly to gaze at Bernie he gave her a 'flirtatious' wink.
"Yer- Your what?" Bernie moved around the prince to reach her parents, being careful to leave him a wide berth. "An' when did you and I get engaged? Who decided that, yer mum?"
"Bernadette! He is our guest, *please stay on your best behavior*." Archibal's tone alluded more to her speech than her choice of words. "Sorry Father. Do I truly have to marry him?" Bernie looked at her father, fear residing in her eyes.
"Yes you must. If you do not marry me, I will see to it that your entire family is wiped off this earth. My army shall swarm through this pathetic keep you call a castle and-" "And what, little man?" Elroy's threats were cut short by a large presence at the Hall's entrance. Every light within the Grand Hall changed; their steady white glow replaced by a flickering orange flame. The stone and marble making up the walls and floor warmed as the very air grew thick with the acrid smell of the forge. Xeniloph walked towards the prince; his every stepped echoing through the now silent hall. The sound of metal bending and tearing rang out with every footfall. With every breath, the sound of a roaring fire being stoked grew louder.
"Who... what... are you?" Elroy's face grew pale as Xeniloph towered over him, dim sparks and metal flakes fluttering down and landing on his face.
"I am Xeniloph. Master of The Foundry and Master to the young girl whose hand you seek." As he spoke, the walls of the Grand Hall began to glow with a red hue, the temperature continuing to rise. "You say you want to marry her yet some of your first words to her are threats made against her family and her home. You are not fit to marry her. Based on your behavior you are not fit to rule a kingdom, much less a joint country." Steam began to exude off Xeniloph's scales; a haze forming around him as his own body began to glow with heat. His every inhalation pulled back flames; with every exhale he release plumes of smoke. "I will say this only once, *prince.* Leave. If you do, you shall go unscathed. Stay, and learn why even gods revere me and my craft." All at once, everything stopped. The air plummeted back to its original temperature. The smell vanished and the glow faded. The lights returned to normal as the smoke and steam ceased from Xeniloph.
Prince Elroy stared, mouth agape, at the dragon for what seemed like an eternity. Everyone had theirs eyes on the two, waiting to see what would happen. Finally, Elroy flinched. He stepped back, glared at Bernadette, then ran past Xeniloph and out of the Grand Hall.
"Hmm, spineless coward. Come, little one, let us resume our lesson."
"Coming Master Xeniloph!"
|
Once more I awaken from my slumber to horns and once more I am annoyed. Not even the great deep note that I request? These... Trumpets! They must have a very good reason for this!
Each of my eyes open. A colossal task in itself, the metal fused to my body over Millenia giving my eyelids great weight. I stretch my head up and peer down towards the castle from my perch overlooking it. Ah, that explains a great deal.
There's an army surrounding the city. The trumpets that awoke me were not meant for me. Unfortunate, now they have my attention *and* my ire. I stretch out my wings, and take to the air, closing in on the largest tent in the siege.
There isn't exactly space for me, but I make some. A strong flap of my wings scatters a couple people, horses, and tents and I land in the impromptu clearing. Swiftly I'm surrounded by mediocre human weapons.
"Drop your weapons or I will destroy them." I state. Adding a rumble to my voice that make some of the weaker willed men shake. They were smart enough to oblige me. Not dropping their weapons, but at least they weren't pointing them at me. I had a brief desire to immolate a few for disobeying me, but no. I didn't come here explicitly to fight.
"I wait here until your highest ranking man comes to speak with me!" I declared. Then for good measure I added "In the meantime I'll be taking mental stock of your supplies so that I may give an accurate estimation to my good friend Queen Camramil." That sent them into overdrive. The people around me scrambled off, presumably to find their general.
I already knew what their supplies were like. They had enough to siege the city for long enough probably. That isn't my issue. Amelia Camramil likely already had a perfectly capable plan. It's what I trained her for. No, this visit was purely personal. I absolutely detest being awoken early.
After nearly twenty minutes of pretending to look busy, a man clad in disgustingly ornate full plate armor approached me. He was already talking. "What is the meaning of this Dragon!? You are not to meddle in-" "Silence!" I barked shutting him up instantly. Only briefly though, since I had to cut him off as he was about to start speaking.
"The old etiquette is the only thing stopping me from leveling this camp. I will hold to it only as long as you do. Now speak *Human*" I practically spat the last word at him. To his credit, he didn't fluster. Only taking a breath before saying "Forgive me Artemis. Your presence made me forget myself. I am confused because historically you have made a point of avoiding the conflicts of humans."
I would have smiled, but my face doesn't really do that. Instead I give a short bow of my head. "I am not participating in this conflict either, but I am awake, so I will not leave until I have a sufficient answer. Why are you here?" I could only see hints of his expression. He was calculating.
He chose his words carefully before answering. "I tell you this knowing that you sharing this information would constitute participating in the conflict."
"Flawed logic, but I'll humor it."
I heard him grit his teeth and force out the niceties as he continued. "I am here to claim the hand of the Princess. The Queen won't give it to me so I'm taking it!"
His words hung in the air, only to be cut down by the deep rumbling laughter of one far too large and far too old. My laughter. I couldn't help it! My laughter shook the entire valley before I could calm myself enough to speak.
"Ah, amusing. Very well, I wish you the best of luck, though perhaps you'd rather hear exactly why you may not have the princess?"
I could feel his fury burning underneath the helmet. A great fire from such a small man, but still merely a candle. He spoke through gritted teeth, knowing full well he couldn't say anything uncouth or risk losing the whole army. "Very well, I'll hear it."
"She belongs to me little man. She is my ward, you could level the whole city and in ten years time she will return to coat its walls in your gore." With that I took off, to return to my ward and her training. She'd be upset that she missed the end of winter, but I'll happily explain to her exactly why my hibernation had ended almost a whole month early.
| 2021-09-24T00:51:36
| 2021-09-24T00:47:13
| 99
| 41
|
[WP] Your wife wakes you up. “It’s your turn to feed the baby.” You groan, get up, slaughter a lamb, and toss it into the darkened pit below.
Inspired by [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/agyghh/my_wife_rolled_over_and_sighed_its_your_turn_to/?st=JR15QW9S&sh=56b75b5f)
|
The concern has gradually turned to, not when the child will eat, but if it will choose to feed at all. This was the third lamb in a week's time put to slaughter. The child would crawl on all fours to see what had been tossed down but it barely showed interest in the meat. Inevitably it would start crying again. Yes, the pit was dark but it's kept warm by small piles of burning coal. Everything the delicate creature needed was available. A pile of fleece blankets, a bowl of fresh rain water, and several toys, a rattle among them. At night, the child falls asleep under the blankets, which is good, as the coal fires extinguish after several hours and no one wants to get out of bed to relight them. The clumsy thing knocked the water bowl over several times so it's unclear if it has drank or not but we dutifully refill it every morning.
Our main concern is this; The cries are not as loud as when the child was first placed in the pit and it appears lethargic. We told our little one she could have a pet in our new home, one the natives called Earth. But to the misfortune of this creature, we are not schooled in the ways of properly caring for it and I'm afraid nature will soon take its course. Our own child lost interest in playing with it rather quickly, leaving us to see to its needs. I'm saddened to say it simply hasn't worked out. In the morning we will feed it to our sckrunko and warn our neighbors to not buy the juveniles until they are fully weaned.
|
Shepherd awoke to the gentle ruffles of his wife shoving a tired hand in his hand. Irritated and red touched, he grabbed her wrist and nodded groggily. He knew what needed to be done.
He went to the kitchen first. If it’d been morning he may have started a cup of coffee, but for now, water would have to do. He drank hungrily, not realizing how much thirst buried itself in sleep, and he carried himself around the house like a ghost, checking in closets and bedrooms, to ensure the children were asleep as they were instructed.
It was the middle of the summer, and the middle of summer was the best time to do this. In the outside shed he dug through his tools, ensuring he wasn’t loud enough to disturb their neighbors. He didn’t think they had problem likes theirs - understandable, he supposed, and he wasn’t willing to drag them into their lifestyle. This life wasn’t for everyone.
After procuring the correct tools - no need for a mess, this needed to be clean and quick, he found the lever near the back window and pulled it just an inch. The center of the floor shook and split in two, revealing an entrance to a deeper compartment. Shepherd grabbed his tool box, and quickly started his descent, relieved to see the LED installations worked adequately. He stepped deeper and deeper, and with every step the distant growls and howls strengthened in volume. They weren’t monstrous in the least, or at least, not to Shepherd. He theorized he’d gotten used to the horrors.
This was normal.
At the bottom of the staircase numerous containment units surrounded him. Some large. Some small. Each with a number and a code. Some held remains. Others held excrement. He’d have to tell Dolly to buy more Fabuloso; the odor was pungent. To the back of the spacious room was a containment unit far larger, more elaborate than the rest, and unlike the vacant ones, what was inside was alive and well. For the time being.
What inside was a child no older than four years old. An alarmingly beautiful child whose frost pale skin revealed transparent blue veins and hidden secrets, but she still smiled for him. Her palms flattened on the titanium glass (or plastic, he always forget what Dolly said), and he reached into his tool box while her eyes darted restlessly.
“Is that for me?”
“Yep.”
“Good,” she pouted. “I’ve been waiting all day for my meal.”
“Your mom said to chew your food. You don’t need to rush.” He pulled items out of his tool box, and revealed her evening meal. She jumped up and down, clapping excitedly.
“Oh, goodie! And if I keep eating,” she said in between jumps, “I’ll get stronger?”
“Very much,” he said. “You’ll be stronger and healthier, just like Mom wanted you to.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” she smiled, stepping away for him to open the food tray entrance compartment. “I can’t wait to get strong and big like Mommy,” she said, sitting on her bed as she began to tear into her meal.
Shepherd smiled, heart full. “You will be strong like Mommy. I’m sure she’d be proud to see you too, my darling.” He stayed for another hour more, until she finished her meal and returned to bed. Rest was required. She wasn’t at full strength, but she would be one day. Stabilized. Realized. Taking his tools and the finished tray, Shepherd climbed upstairs and returned to his home.
In the kitchen, fully awake, he cleaned the tray and dishes and utensils. “Well, honey, she ate everything,” he said, picking at dried blood until it popped off down the drank, “and she’s getting healthier. You were right.” He chuckled sadly, “You were right about everything.” He was ready to return to bed, but first, his dry throat craved ice water. He chugged water into his favorite glass and opened the freezer for some ice.
“Oh,” he said. “It’s you.”
An angry, frozen stare blinked at him.
“We do need more Fabuloso,” he reminded her. “And the kids are getting on better. I think they’ll learn to accept the new addition to the family, like you said. She isn’t stable, yet, but she will be. She has your genes. She has your everything, actually.”
He sighed. He missed this.
A soft stirring upstairs grabbed his attention, and he stared at the ceiling, groaning softly.
“Well, dear, a parent’s job is never truly over,” he puckered his lips. “I love you, sleep well.” Going upstairs, he heard a four year old cries, “Now, now, Bellewether, what’s the matter?”
“You were with her,” she mumbled. “Weren’t you?”
“Yes,” he admitted. He didn’t think keeping the truth from them was healthy. “But don’t you worry,” he tucked her back in, pressing a sweet kiss on her forehead. “She’s your sister. She’ll never hurt you.”
| 2019-01-17T19:13:42
| 2019-01-17T18:09:55
| 83
| 28
|
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100.
|
They told me I was lucky. My whole life they said that the stat assessment showed I was one of the luckiest people alive with a score of 100. I swore it wasn’t true. If I had been lucky, why was I born to a poor family? I never got to play games of chance, since those were forbidden to luck score 100s.
Then the revolution happened. The leaders swore they would prove that people controlled their own destiny, that luck had nothing to do with success, and, as proof, they would throw the 100s in prison as an ultimate sign of human triumph over the odds. Having a lower rating began to be a mark of pride, an inspiration.
Some of us tried to run and hide. That’s what I did. I managed to hide a while, too. It was, ironically, just bad luck that they caught me. The guy whose identity I was using’s brother happened to be a member of the Luck Police, and he was visiting relatives across the country the day he caught sight of my fake name on the ID I gave the clerk at a convenience store.
I couldn’t have lasted much longer, anyway. They had just created the AR rig that let you see people’s stats just by looking at them. None of our underground community knew how to fool it. It updated in real time.
So, off to prison I went. With all of the other “lucky” ones. That’s when I met Eddie. Most of us, at this point, had our ideas about the system. Most of us thought it was complete bullshit, created so that the people in control could make an enemy to unite people around. Eddie, though, he had a different idea. He swore that it was real. He said he had been a scientist and had helped develop the measurement system, and swears they had gotten it right, but it was hard to argue with the evidence. All the luckiest people wind up in prison, so how are we lucky again? Even locked up as one of us Eddie swore it was true. Even talked about how coming across the measurement at all was a lucky break. He had been studying DNA for a marker for gambling addiction, when he found the luck gene.
Eddie was right. I still remember hearing the whispers. Carl was a 96 now. The AR rig swore it. I was with Eddie when we saw Carl, and through the rig, we could see it too. Right beside him: Luck - 96. It was an odd color, though. It was green, not white like normal. I asked Eddie about it. He frowned. “We had theorized that there were things that could give a temporary boost or penalty. Luck clovers, breaking mirrors, and things. I guess the research on those is complete, and they programmed them into the rig?”
I looked at Carl and there, behind his ear, I saw it. A four leaf clover. But those were supposed to be... I saw the look of horror on Eddie’s eyes as he did the same calculations I was doing. The green luck boost. It moved his score down. Eddie shook his head and stared at his feet. “The sons of bitches. They got it backwards. It’s like a golf score. Lower is better. We are stuck in here because we are the most unlucky bastards on the planet.”
|
I was *born* with max luck, being told my whole life that I shouldn’t be, that I was *favored*. Nope, I was locked up and the key thrown away. I had spent my life, from age thirteen onwards here. My Luck was my weapon, but I wasn’t sure how. I *should have* been able to get out of here, press my own Luck to its maximum and escape. I was only allowed to talk to my guards, who were, to be honest, all very nice and fairly handsome, but hovering around fifty.
Gradually, I found out that we, the prisoners that is, are all ninety and higher, seriously. We’re all treated like pariahs for something outside of our control and then isolated. I was one of the “lucky” ones, the guards liked me and treated me like a younger brother, all except Chuck, but he was taken away. I liked him the best. I was nineteen when Chuck was taken away. He waited and didn’t touch me until I was eighteen and then one day, he had vanished. It broke my heart. Kyle told me what had happened, a relationship with a Lucky could increase Luck over time. I had done it to both of us, apparently, he was pushed to one hundred, like the maximum security ward. *I had gotten Chuck locked up.*
My resolve hardened. I would have him back. Chuck was *mine*. I became quiet, acting broken. I wasn’t. I started doing research. If I increased my Luck beyond one hundred, I would *transform*, becoming my true self, probably either an angel or demon. I couldn’t wait. I would have Chuck back.
I did more research, I had devoured what little I could, then began bribing the guards to bring me more. I did things I shouldn’t have been proud of, but my body was a small price to pray to have Chuck indefinitely, for our eternity. I discovered more, like the lineage of Lucifer, how he had six (SIX?!) sisters; two sets of triplets. Destiny, Fortuna, and *Luck*; the other sisters, while interesting, weren’t relevant to me or my search (Rose, Daisy, and Lily). I started gathering myself and my materials I would need, incense, flowers, dice, cards, sundry items that soon filled my cell.
I laughed and started that night. It was a full moon, a hot day in summer, our air conditioning broke down; sweat dripped down my face as I completed the ritual with a slice of my own flesh, blood splattering the flowers, the petals scattering in a sudden wind. “A second?” my own mother stood in my cell. “Oh Liam,” she said as I rushed to her, enveloping her soft body in a hug. “What did they do to you?”
“I am too *Lucky*, I was locked up and my Fated stolen from me,” I tried to be strong, but tears poured out of my eyes as the story poured out of my mouth. “Mother, I beseech you, please help me.”
And she did.
| 2018-06-29T12:50:06
| 2018-06-29T10:57:06
| 41
| 12
|
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D
|
Dear me:
That boy isn’t going to text back, it’s Saturday and he saw your message on Thursday. You always do this, you said you weren’t going to get attached, you barely have feelings for him. You don’t want anything but companionship from him, you say to yourself. But you know you want the whole thing: you want him to look at you the way you like, you want him to compliment on your hair, you want him to ask you how your day is going. But you also know he’s not your romeo. Nobody is. you are alone and you refuse to feel lonely. You love yourself but you found that you’ve always craved another part of you since when you were little. But you crossed seven seas, only to get desperate because he is not here, there, or anywhere.
Sincerely,
a hopeless romantic
|
Dear me,
Grow a pair of balls and ask that bitch out.
Dumbass. So what if she says no? Are you gonna cry? Hell, no. You'll be sad but you'll move on.
You'll be more happy if she says yes than sad if she says no.
What a pussy.
| 2015-12-05T14:46:28
| 2015-12-05T14:30:45
| 158
| 33
|
[WP] Assassinating Earth's planetary delegate turned out much harder than expected. So far, the target has always detected all hitmen sent and alerted his security. This ability of "hearing" the humans possess is quite peculiar.
|
Earths atmosphere was dense, the reports had said it would be. Still, figures on a readout where not the same as feeling the pressure press down or feeling the resistance of 'nothing' flowing all around with every movement. Having to push through it.
He had a holo disguise just like the others before him, allowing him to trick one of their two primary senses. What the others where not prepared for was just how sharp the other sense would be. They knew it existed, sure, it could pick up disturbances in the atmosphere.
What they where not prepared for was for this to work through walls. They could pick up atmospheric movement *through walls.* If the disturbance was large enough, they could pick it up from miles away, *indoors*.
Those before him had been sceptical. They put this lavish claim down to boasting and fear mongering amongst their new neighbours, to prevent attack. It had cost them their lives.
He would not underestimate his enemy.
He would move slowly, smoothly, keep the gasses around his body as still as possible. Turbulence, that was to be avoided. He must move his body over the ground like a sleek ship though the air. Smooth, steady.
He'd keep his distance from his target, as far as possible, to prevent detection.
He followed the transit zone he had located, they called it a 'Street', and located the delivery utility vehicle he was looking for. It had come to a stop outside of a supply dump, and was being unloaded. The supply dump had the sigel 'Costco' on the side, presumably showing which local faction currently claimed ownership.
He slowly, slowly, urged his body up into the rear of the vehicle and readied his prepared poison careful to avoid creating atmospheric turbulence where he could. He located the preferred nutrient package of the delegate and with a syringe pierced the container and slid in the neurotoxin.
He would be no-where near the target at the point of death.
He took the package, and slid back out of the wheeled container back onto the transit zone. After a moment of pause, it was clear no-one was stopping him. A clear indicator no-one had detected him. He took the container and waited for his mark.
As he sat idly scanning every being moving past, eventually he got the one he was after, the delegate's assistant. He couldn't tell the difference but the scanner was sure this was the one. He approached, ensured the correct side of his body was pointing to the assistant and initiated the pre-recorded message. It seemed to him that nothing was happening at all, but his readout inside the disguise assured him it was being relayed as planned. The translation displayed as "Oh! Hi Vicky! I've grabbed the bosses lunch already, you looked busy this morning so wanted to save you some time. You remember me? Bill from accounting!" He was sure to stay completely motionless during the playback to avoid suspicion.
The suspense was killing him. He had the nutrients, the human was supposed to take it. Why where they not taking it!?
His translator lit up. "Are you going to hand it to me? Or...".
Hand it? What the hell did that mean!? Panic started to set in. He played the recording again. he'd been told not to, but this was the field. You had to react to a live situation.
"Oh! Hi Vicky! I've grabbed the bosses lunch already, you looked busy this morning so wanted to save you some time. You remember me? Bill from accounting!"
Just. Don't. Move.
Again the translator lit up. "Just, whatever. Give it to me. Mouth breather." followed by a jolt as the nutrients where removed. It had happened. He was done.
As he was about to leave, the translator lit up again "What's this blue shit all over it? How did it even get in there is that mould? Gross!" and the human flung the nutrients into a waste unit. "Guess that's why they make the plastic transparent, god I'll just get it myself".
What fresh bullshit is this!? WHAT THE HELL IS BLUE!? IT WAS INSIDE THE SEALED CONTAINER! WHAT THE HELL! No way the atmosphere was moving in there this is bullshit.
|
I stood atop the sand dunes of Ish'tak and allowed the old sun to bath me in the hues of its light. I felt the scorned iron wind break against the exposed scales where feathers once were; most had been lost by age or battle. This was the ancient tradition, our way, a millenia ago our kind would bathe in the sun of our home planet allowing the scales beneath to harden before going into battle. It was a practice lost amongst my people, if only because my people had become lost. Honor, duty, swearing only fealty to the blood we spill, these things too my kind had forgotten.
Had we another thousand years alone, we would have had been the ones to command the universe. Instead we met our end at the hands of the Ghoshun, a malignant and maligned race that crawled from the depths of the home planets ocean some eons ago. It is our word for them, not theirs. They have no sense for language, only patterns to invoke emotions. We saw our senses as gifts, they saw them as profane. Had it not been for our ability to shed blood so easily, our graves would have had long been buried and forgotten under the green star of our home. Yet now we are their weapon, a honed blade sent to kill where they cannot. This is why I'm here.
They see humanity as a pox - I see them as an inevitability, but I am bound by honor. This human will die tonight, but when they see his blood, when they smell the iron, more will come.
\--
Had an idea, tried to run with it - got kind of lost in writing it, I might try to flesh it out a bit more later on though as I like this story.
| 2021-03-18T11:49:48
| 2021-03-18T11:41:51
| 384
| 69
|
[WP] You were born with the ability to stop time, but only temporarily. You can stop time for as five seconds. One day, at 33 years old, you stop time. As you move through your crowded office, you notice one of your coworkers's fingers twitch.
|
Five seconds.
That was all I had. A superpower I'd had since birth, so close to useless that sometimes I forgot I even had it.
Five seconds.
One breath. A fleeting thought. A moment stretching just a little longer than the others.
It wasn't enough time to wander the office. It wasn't enough time to take a poop in peace. But in those moments when a surprise caught me gawking like a deer before oncoming headlights, those five seconds stretched into an eternity.
Moments like this one.
The two of them sat across from me. Bill--my boss--and the HR representative. My heart pounded: ten, twenty times in those five measly seconds my superpower gave me.
It didn't help. Five seconds wasn't enough time to change anything. I couldn't delete the emails or hide the information that had been leaked. I wouldn't even know where to find it. I'd been framed and I couldn't understand why.
I was on good terms with people. Sure, sometimes I paused time if they were getting on my nerves. Five seconds could be enough time to slip away. But it was never harmful, and I didn't mind any of them all that much.
I'd told that to Bill.
"I've been framed. I swear. I wouldn't do anything to hurt the company. I like it here."
Bill had laughed. It was all there. All the evidence they needed.
"Hank from security will be up momentarily," Bill said. The useless HR rep nodded to confirm. She hadn't said a word.
Five seconds.
Useless, but when people feel useless they do all they can do. They hoard toilet paper. They cry. They freeze time.
The HR rep froze. Her eyes fogged over.
Bill's didn't. He still looked straight at me, still as a statue. Almost. His finger twitched. His lips curled up ever so slightly. My heart slowed to a crawl, the breath crammed in my throat like I'd been frozen myself.
"Good luck out there," he said, standing to shake my hand.
His touch lingered. Seconds. Minutes. Hours.
And then Hank was there. It could have been days. I spurred my thoughts onward, did everything in my power to make things go back to normal. But the clock didn't tick. I walked at a crawl, slurred my words. Seconds passed like hours.
I tried to freeze time, to regain control. Bill clicked his tongue. Once, twice, three times in a second. I couldn't even move my tongue that fast.
His grin never left his face.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
|
Five seconds, many would question how much of an advantage
that was in life. How much could occur over five seconds? No one was going to
steal a tv or rob a bank in such a short period, so what use did it have?
It was a stupid train of thought many fell victim to. Often
I would ask my friends and relatives what they would do if they shared a power
similar to mine, posing the question to them in the form of a hypothetical.
Most would just give a halfhearted shrug, wondering why I was only offering
such a small amount of time if it was a hypothetical. Why not ask them what
they would do if they could just stop time? Why give such a limitation to the
ability?
I could never tell them the truth, I couldn’t just admit
that I could stop time. If I ever admitted something like that I could end up
in serious trouble. So I would disguise it as small talk, dismissing their
accusing gazes by telling them it was merely a conversation starter. Most of
the time they would just sigh and tell me to work on my social skills.
People just seemed to dismiss what they could achieve in the
small space of time. Take yesterday, for instance. Stuck at the grocery store,
I noticed one box of peppermint chocolate left, its delicate red bowed box
calling for me. With a stride, I went to claim the treat only for an ogre of a
man to shove me aside, his shorts riding uncomfortably high as if they were
trying to dig through his body. A disgusting sight that should be outlawed. As
rude as it was, the act only deserved a silent middle finger, at least until I
noticed where he was heading.
“My peppermint.”
Things had gotten serious, my strides matching his own,
pushing to his side before time suddenly stopped, swiping the treats from him,
hiding them under my trolley. When time returned, the man reached forward
grabbing at air. Clutching at the empty space before turning to me. I only
offered him a shrug of empathy before taking my cart to the checkout. Devious
minor incidents like that were the best. They weren’t very practical though,
not like my uses at work.
“Mr James are you going to enter the workplace?”
The security guard stared at me, my hand pressed against the
door, not making any action to open it. Waking up from my daydreaming mind, I
shoved the door to my work open, giving him a friendly sorry nod. A sigh
escaped my lips as I stared at the bleak, sterile interior. Luckily, my
thirty-three years on this planet had helped me learn a few tricks to get
through the day. I had to time my stops perfectly. The ability seemed to take
ten minutes to recharge, so patience helped. Heading up to my office, I clicked
my fingers as I approached the shutting elevator door, sneaking myself inside.
Why did Ben always push the close door button when he saw me? It always hurt
seeing his hand against the button every morning. Perhaps he was still angry
about me eating that piece of birthday cake he kept in the fridge under his
desk?
Not that I cared what Ben thought. I had more important
things to worry about. His feelings were not one of them. As the doors peeled
open to expose the busy office, I went to the small kitchen to the left, not about
to navigate through the crowd of people until my ability was back. So I wasted
ten minutes making a coffee, asking my colleagues what they would do if they
could freeze time for five seconds. That never kept the conversation going,
having to watch them give me an eye roll before walking off to make themselves
look busy with another task. When my ten minutes were up, I took my steaming
mug towards the middle, approaching the crowd of workers, I stopped time.
Now all I had to do was push my way through their bodies.
And what the hell is that? I stopped, feeling something rubbing against my
back, only to see a colleague’s finger twitching against my back. I panicked,
spilling my coffee onto the floor as time returned. Everyone eyeing me with
disapproving gazes. How could he move? I should have frozen him. The man knelt
down to help me up, only for me to wave his hand away.
“What are you?” I shrieked, earning more uncomfortable
stares from my coworkers.
“I’m Jeff from accounting. You ok buddy? Maybe go make
another coffee. You are acting strange.”
“Me? You are the one that could move.”
I had to shut myself up. Keeping my empty mug between my
fingers, I gave Jeff a glare, watching him wink at me as I wandered to my desk,
leaving my coffee stain for the janitor to clean. I will find out who you
really are, Jeff from accounting. No one makes a fool of me.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2020-09-22T05:04:28
| 2020-09-22T04:55:11
| 1,679
| 411
|
[WP] It's the beginning of the year and the government as assigned a new years resolution to every person, and it must be completed before (or kept until) the year ends.
|
🎶 *Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell ROCK...* 🎶
I had never liked that song. Nonsensical lyrics always irritated me, and the additional annoyance of the holiday season made it worse. I had only a few days left to complete my resolution, which had stymied me all year.
**Create Political Change**
A bizarre resolution to be given by the government, no? And I thought it would be easy. Petitions, letter-writing campaigns, maybe some picketing.
But I never got the Notification of Completion. So I stepped it up a notch. Full-on harassment campaigns against city councils, state governers, even a few members of Senate.
Still nothing. I was lucky that I had little else to occupy my time, else this would have been even more impossible than before. I tried throwing money at the problem directly, maybe funding a PAC would count?
Apparently not. So I took almost a month off, went out too my grandfather's cottage. Things always became more clear out there, with just me, my thoughts and some old-fashioned hunter/gatherer shenanigans to keep the stew pot full.
And things did become blessedly clear. I packed up, came back to the Capital, and now here I am. Cramped into an air vent, watching the masses flow through the mall, and there they are. The President who gave me this absurd task. I set my grandfathers rifle more firmly to my shoulder, and prepared to fulfill my resolution.
Maybe one Person can't change anything.
But one Bullet can.
|
My Dearest Americans:
As your 49th president I ran on a platform of making America greener, fitter, and more enjoyable overall. Over the past three years I have utilized our nations taxes to eliminate suburbs, relocate suburbites to high density ursn centers, created over 575 new different train systems, built 150 nuclear power plants, and 50 state wind farms, and put solar panels on every structure in the United States. The final step is your health and mobility. Inside this box you will find your (and your family’s) government issued bicycle. Your goal for this next year will be to ride over 365 miles (that’s one mile a day). If you fail to reach this goal you will be fined a 10 dollars for every mile you do not complete.
Persons with Disabilities have also been provided with the fitness method they requested on the fitness survey issued two years ago.
Please join me and my family on our inaugural bicycle commute to work the first week in January. I will be joined by the entire federal workforce, the House of Representatives and the Senate.
We will then sign the global climate peace accords commemorating the end of the climate wars and our commitment to ensuring the prosperous existence of humanity into the future.
Thank you for making this term an amazing one, please let us continue our experiment in democracy in peace and good health.
Your servant,
-President Toubaboliviano
PS
Please note that any non compliance will be seen as an act of treason and sedition.
| 2022-01-02T19:17:38
| 2022-01-02T18:18:31
| 14
| 10
|
[WP] Children whose mothers have used magic potions during pregnancy sometimes experience the effects randomly through their lives, love potion offspring being randomly met by lovestruck strangers, invisibility potion kids randomly disappearing for a time... You run an orphanage for potion children.
|
The folder was thick. It seemed to be larger every time I came back to it. No matter how much we did, the problem just seemed to loom greater and greater with every passing day. Even with the expansion, we simply did not have the resources to make a dent in the folder.
Trembling, I flipped through the first few pages. Each page was a new cause, a new child stuck in a system that couldn't possibly provide for them. My eyes strayed toward the upper right corner of the current file, dreading what I knew would be there. A picture. A small child, no more than five or six, with luminous eyes that whispered of horrors behind and ahead.
Lucy Ward.
All children in the system had Ward for a last name, a cruel way of erasing their past and replacing it with an institutionalized existence that few managed to walk away from unscathed. Even if they escaped, the name would follow, a brand scorched into their identity, an anchor on their prospects.
But we had a spot. Vera had been adopted by an incredible family just that morning, and I had not even waited for the ink to dry before diving into the folder containing all of the potion children spread throughout the state's apparatus. I winced at the term, hating how we reduced a living being to a single trait. As if their entire existence could be reduced to the fact that they had been born to a mother who had made a bad choice.
And why wouldn't they make such a choice? It was a hard world, rotting from the inside out. Problems arose in ever greater numbers -- famine, plagues, rogue magic. The lot of it made it hard for decent people to lead decent lives. With so much falling apart, why should we be surprised that some sought easy answers?
Drink this potion. Be healed.
Drink this potion. Be loved.
Drink this potion. Be free from what ails you.
A thousand silver-tongued salesmen hawked their wares, seeking to trade hope for coin. And people bought, because what else could they do? The lucky ones got flavored water and moved on with their lives, poorer but wiser. The others?
I flipped to the next page. Chelsea Ward. A haggard looking blonde girl stared back, the life wrung out of her already. I glanced down to the section labeled 'Ailments' and my lips tightened. Love and revenge.
I sighed. She would be nigh impossible to accommodate. Half the hall would love her, the other half would die mysteriously if they crossed her. She would be unable to control it, it would just be a feature of her life. Never able to love for fear it wasn't genuine. Never able to hate for fear it might kill.
I flipped again. There were so many choose from. So many who had been abandoned once the nature of their afflictions surfaced. So many wanting souls looking to be saved. Each would be consumed by the state, with the lucky ones receiving a bed and an education.
Others?
Well, there were whispers about that. About secret state programs that sought to take advantage of the afflictions. What better spy than a child with perpetual invisibility? What better warrior than a young man with iron skin?
Those children were pulled long before they made it to the folder though, so there would be no saving them. All I could do was my best with what remained. And even that was an insurmountable problem. A never-ending flood.
And all I had was a spot.
One spot to save make a difference.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/perilousplatypus
|
"Hello, can I help you?" I asked politely. I couldn't see the man's features very well; he wore very dark clothing, cloaking him effectively in the darkness outside the half-open door.
"Yes, I believe you can." His voice had a certain oiliness that made me instantly distrust him. "If I may come in...?"
"I'm sorry sir, but this establishment is currently closed," I said firmly. "If you could come back tomorrow morning, we can be of better assistance." I moved to shut the door.
He stuck a leather, metal-tipped loafer over the threshold, forcing the door to stay open a crack. "Just hear me out." His voice was still entreating, but had an edge of steel to it now.
I felt a little fear curl in my stomach. "Please, sir, there are children in here who need to sleep. They could get very upset if we keep them up."
"Get upset and do what? Lash out?" His voice was scarily eager. "How so, I wonder...maybe using their special endowments, hmm?"
I sighed. "What exactly do you want?"
"Why, to adopt, of course!" he exclaimed. He pushed forward with this foot, budging the door open just a little bit more. "This is an orphanage, isn't it?"
"Potential adopters have to go through a rigorous screening process to adopt one of our gifted children. You are not exactly helping your chances with your current actions..."
"What about if I offer some more...*incentive*?" I heard the flourish of paper cash and the musical clink of coins.
"Enough," I grumbled, my tired voice betraying me a little. "Leave now, sir, or I shall hail the police."
"You will do nothing of the sort," he snorted. "I will not allow you to waste the magical potential of the children wasting away behind your walls. Now, let me in!" He gave a sudden, almighty push against the door.
I stood back quickly and let him stumble through. As he regained his footing, I commanded: "Look at me."
He raised his face to argue, but immediately lost his voice as our eyes locked. I felt the familiar twinge of a headache as magic flowed out between us. It took only a few seconds to send him crashing to the floor, snoring like a baby.
I sighed, shut the front door, and rang a little bell on the wall for the constable to cart away him away. These were happening too frequently now, but what could I do? I was trying my best to protect the little ones, but I couldn't force them to not use abilities so innate to their being. It was literally encoded into their DNA, just like it was mine. It would be like asking someone to go through their life voluntarily deaf, with their fists jammed into their ears.
"Go back to sleep, Olya," I said, rubbing my eyes. "And yes, I know you're there. You can't hide from me."
She re-appeared at the foot of the staircase behind me, arms crossed and puting. "But how did you know? I was so quiet this time."
"You smell like cookie dough," I laughed. I kissed her on the top of the head. "My sweet one."
She giggled and squirmed out of my grasp. "Who was that, Matron? Was he another bad guy? Are we going to be OK?"
"Yes, of course we are," I said softly. "But please don't tell the others; it'll scare them. We can talk about it tomorrow morning. Now, off to bed." I patted her on the bum and she scurried away.
As I sat there in silence, waiting for the police to come by, I wondered for the umpteenth time if my mother knew what that sleeping potion would've done to me. She took so much - enough to shut her brain down. Was she trying to make sure that I was born Afflicted?
Or had she been trying to kill me, too?
​
​
*Liked that story? Want more like it? Check out* r/Idreamofdragons!
| 2018-12-26T14:03:45
| 2018-12-26T13:51:46
| 426
| 244
|
[Wp]Heaven isn't based on religious text or desires, but how you died. Example: a man who starved to death will live in a heaven of food.
Edit: holy shit i did not expect this response, you're all awesome and beautiful! <3
|
They had been right all along. Neil walked the rolling plains of Heaven, the grass tickling his bare toes. The air had never smelled so sweet, and just *look* at it. In life, he'd dismissed all of this as a fairytale people told each other for comfort: that one day, you would find peace in Heaven.
But he couldn't deny what he saw. People smiling as they rested against immensely tall, graceful trees. Most had linked hands and were talking quietly. He passed them all, somehow unafraid of what they would think of him, filled with a funny sort of conviction that they wouldn't whisper about him when he was gone. He'd always been so afraid of that.
He paused at a group of four that seemed, oddly, to be waiting for him. They turned to him with wide, welcoming smiles. Neil's heart ached. It was hard to reach for the memory, but he knew this - he'd never met with such easy acceptance before.
"Join us," one of the men said, blue eye gleaming in the sharp sunlight. "We want you here. Don't walk the plains by yourself. We're meant to be with one another here. To talk, and listen."
"This place is unbelievable. Who would have thought they were right?" Neil said, sitting down and venturing a smile himself.
"Oh, I don't know about that," a young woman said quietly. She picked unconsciously at the scars on her arms. "I think it's just right for us, you know? If you get to know us, you'll realise what I mean. We all came here the same way."
Neil swallowed heavily, glancing away from them, sure they could see the memories that were shoving themselves nightmarishly to the forefront of his mind. Alone, in that dingy little apartment. Certain no-one would ever knock on his door to ask how he was doing, would sit with him and listen, as this woman was listening now. Convinced that anything was preferable to the agony that was waking up, still the same person that he was yesterday.
He'd been so ready to never wake up to that again.
He felt the woman's fingertips brush his hand, and looked up into her overly bright eyes.
"Hey, we understand, believe me. We're here for you," she said. "We're not going anywhere."
-----------------------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
|
Nightmares. Only nightmares, for minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years. A millennia of nightmares, passed in a moment; each one flickering by, their respective horror scarce dimmed by the previous. Every terror a human being could possibly imagine and an infinite number that one couldn't, appearing and disappearing.
And he wasn't asleep.
It was always day, the sun was always bright, glaring almost. He was uncomfortable under it, under its relentless eye, slowly charring his skin to a painful red. It reminded him of the war, of the time he spent thinking, 'what I would give for rain', of the peeling skin and high tempers that had surrounded him.
At first, the nightmares had been of the war. Soldiers appearing in front of him, firing, feeling the pain - never muted - of the bullets slamming into him, tearing him apart. Every horror he had experienced then, occurring again, and somehow worse for it.
He could remember a time when he had been at peace with the war. At peace with what he had done, able to fall asleep at night. Able to be proud of himself.
That was no more. Now, he wanted nothing less than to die, to die *again*, so he could never see those images of the dead flicker past his eyes again. So he could be free of this torment.
At first, he had pleaded. Begged, even. He wasn't a bad man, he said. He'd gone to church, he'd been kind, forgiving. He'd killed, yes, but he'd killed for freedom, for his country. Never in cold blood, he said, never for fun or pleasure, he had never enjoyed it.
He almost expected a response. If this was a mistake, perhaps a reassurance. If this was Hell, this prison, this torment, it would surely become clear. The world would show him images of the people he'd killed, torture him with that knowledge of *what he had done*.
Neither happened. Well, the latter did, after a fashion, but it was simply another step in the scale of escalation, another image that was simply worse than what had come before.
He had scratches on his skin. At first, he had made one every time he had felt like a day had passed. Had gauged it on how tired he had been. How much he had wanted to sleep, how many of the waking nightmares were dreams and how many seemed more like hallucinations, brought on by a lack of sleep.
He made another scratch.
He hadn't slept.
Not once.
---
*[more stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/forricide)*
| 2017-01-27T11:27:04
| 2017-01-27T11:19:18
| 561
| 18
|
[WP] On your 16th birthday, everyone is granted a spirit guide from their past, be that a fallen mentor, former pet, or even something such as a bug you once squished. You wake up to find the spirit of your old pet rock, who had fallen and broken years ago, but whose pieces you've always kept.
|
I couldn't wait for this day to come. I was hoping uncle John would come to me, or maybe my great grandpa who fought in World War 2. Or maybe even a relative from thousands of years ago who could bestow their ancient wisdom upon me.
Instead, I got a rock.
Willie the Cross-Eyed Rock was a good friend of mine when I was a toddler. I think I still have his remains around here somewhere, but I have my doubts about his abilities as a spirit guide.
"Is this some sort of paranormal joke I don't understand?" I asked Willie.
"..." he replied.
His googly eyes seemed to stare past my physical form and into my soul. It made me feel uneasy. Exposed. Vulnerable. Is this how everyone feels when they turn 16?
"Are you going to say anything? Give me any life advice? Anything at all?" I ask, feeling progressively more insane about talking to a semi-translucent stone.
"..." continued Willie.
"Okay, never mind," I said. "I could really use some help though. I have no idea what I want to do with my life after I graduate. I have no idea how to talk to girls. I want to get into a good college, but precalc is kicking my ass. Greg and Josh are probably going to go to MIT and I'll never see them again. I was really, really hoping my guide would come and help me figure these things out, but all I get is a rock! This is so unfair!"
"..." Willie said.
I threw myself onto my bed and let out an exasperated sigh. "I guess I'll just figure it all out on my own."
"!!!" said Willie.
I felt a calm energy calling me from the other side of the room. Something was compelling me to pick Willie up. I rolled out of bed and walked towards my dresser where Willie sat on a stack of textbooks.
"!!! !!!"
I picked him up and placed him in the palm of my hand. Immediately upon picking him up, I'm filled with serenity. My eyes meet his googly eyes, and memories of being a little kid, playing in the woods, riding bikes, jumping out of swings, and playing hide-and-seek come back to me as if I just lived through them. Tears streamed down my smiling face. I continued to look into his plastic, lifeless eyes, and visions of me going to college, falling in love, getting married and having kids poured into my mind.
"Are these real?" I said, trying to prevent more tears from escaping.
"..." said Willie.
"I guess I'll never get a straight answer out of you, will I?" I said.
I didn't know if Willie the Cross-Eyed Rock could see the future, but after that I couldn't help but feel like things would work out. I put Willie down on my nightstand and laid back down in my bed.
"Thanks Willie," I said. "Goodnight."
"..." said Willie.
|
"What? Why are you so surprised"?
"You are telling me that you are Miss Pebbles? Jeez I was bad at coming up with names". Andy said as he stares at the spirit.
"Why yes! I also like you to know that I really do love the name you gave me"! The spirit spoke as it floats around Andy.
"Do rocks even have souls"? Being so baffled at the thought. "I never heard of someone having a rock spirit"!
"Well only when one is given a name. Plus they only become your guide if they were properly taken cared of". Pebbles folded their arms as it sits in the air.
"The only reason I took such good care of the rock was because my mom told me that if I could take care of a rock so well that she would let me have a living pet of my own". Andy then stopped, looking at the spirit as he felt like the truth would hurt its feelings.
Pebbles tilted it's head as it looks at him. "Why yes I know, I was there. I must say, buttercup was a very pretty kitty". The spirit giggled as it looks over at the broken parts of the rock. "All that for you to get a kitten. I must say, I trained you well".
"You aren't mad"? He stood up and walks over to the pieces. Picking one up.
"I'm very proud of you. You grew up to be a very fine young man. I'm looking forward to being your spirit guide". Pebbles would smile and give him a hug.
| 2022-11-01T15:27:16
| 2022-11-01T14:45:47
| 34
| 16
|
[WP] your car changes slightly to accommodate your day, the day it snows, it magically has snow tires, the day it floods, it becomes a four by four. Today you walked out the door, and it's a tank.
Edit: wow, this really blew up, thank you all for your stories, and I will try to read all of them as soon as I have some time.
|
"Honey"
I heard her yelling but I was still in bed. I took the day off to finish up a few things around the yard but I really wanted to sleep in to at least nine. But not now I guess...
"What?" I yelled the kind of "what" a sixteen year old yells from two rooms away.
"Come look at the car."
That car had been both a miracle and curse since I bought the damn thing.
"What's it this time?" I was still in yelling from bed mode, not quite ready to get up yet. The flannel sheets were warm.
"A tank."
A tank? See, this car changes according to worldly events. If it's summer it becomes a convertible, if the kid drives it it becomes a Volvo, if I have to drive the team to a travel soccer game it becomes a bus, you get the drift. But a tank?
"A what?" even though I'd heard her the first time I wanted to hear her say it again.
"A tank. It's a tank. What do you think that means?"
War was too obvious an answer. Zombie apocalypse? Nah. Sleep was leaving my brain so I swung out of bed. I put on my slippers and robe and headed downstairs, still thinking.
"Coffee" I said and held out my hand. She put a mug in it. She's good that way.
"Don't you want to see it?" She was opening the door.
I wasn't quite ready to go to the driveway just yet. Dave was out there. Dave "Mr I'm A Freelancer And I Work From Home". Mr Smug. Mr I'll Tell You What This Means. Mr Fuckfacedouchebag. Too early for Dave.
I wander over to the sink to spit and peek through the curtains. Shit. That really is a tank. An M26 Pershing from the look of it. Call of Duty taught me somethin' damn straight. 46 tons of armored fun just waiting to pick the kids up from school. I wonder if I could figure out how to load some ammo and blow Dave up? Mr Blown Up Real Good I could call him.
As I'm imagining Dave and a mushroom cloud a red Prius pulls up. Red Prius. "Who the hell do I know with a red Prius?" I think when it hits me so hard I drop the coffee mug.
"Honey?" I hear the yell from outside. "Honey, look! My Mother's here! And she's staying a week".
EDIT - changed from an Abrams to a Pershing to make zycamzip smile.
|
"What? I don't...I..." I stared at disbelief. Seriously, if I told you my car could change itself to accommodate me to the best that it can for whatever remains on the road, you wouldn't believe me. My normal wake up schedule for the work day is get up at four A.M, take a shower and do...other hygienic nuances while in the shower. Then its just put on the same blue uniform that I always do, make breakfast if I have the time. But watch TV for the news to see what's in store? Sorry, that isn't me.
Now when I tell you that my simple grey Toyota Corolla, is now a six ton tank, with the same color scheme and manufacture badge, I'd sympathize with you that you wouldn't believe me. When I tell you that I can't drive a tank, I know you'll believe me. Seriously, why does a tank have six pedals if there are only four directions. Also when I tell you that I've driven the tank straight into the garage doors, please don't laugh.
"So, if this one is forward, this must be..." The engine cranked over loudly, making a sputtering noise in the process. I forgot the tank is a stick, and the driveshaft just took a beating. "There we go! Now we're making progress! This is great!" The streets were clear so far, as they always were at five in the morning. Nothing seemed out of place either. Entering town was easy, no places had their windows or doors boarded up, getting into base was as easy as swiping my card.
"Really man, a tank this time? What could your car possibly think would happen today?" My superior had said mockingly. God I hate him, so tall but scrawny, always with one hand in his pocket and his coffee mug in another. Always complaining the Chief anchor on his collar was "so heavy" that he couldn't help with work. One day I'll out rank him, but that's for another time, right now I have my watch to do.
There was proof of what my car does, and the government took it for studying, but all that came back was that it was a normal car. My peers all know that my car transform, it's really no surprise. Hell we even had a little fun and drove it into the water. Damned thing became a boat before you could say "Oops"! But towards the end of my watch, I saw something horrifying on the video screen that had the cameras view on base.
"When I tell you the event happened in the course of a day, I hope you believe me. When I tell you the tank was to protect me from the zombies, I hope you trust me enough to come with me if you want to live. When I tell you to save your bullets, I hope you believe me when I also say that nothing can kill these things. Not even my tank. They just put themselves back together and get back up. This is the Operation Specialist, hoping anyone is out there."
| 2016-12-06T12:12:53
| 2016-12-06T11:44:47
| 29
| 13
|
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war.
|
"How many of them, Jennings?"
"Twenty-four on sensors now, Captain."
Captain Randolph of the United Earth Exploration Ship *Everest* scratched his chin. This was not how his colony protection detail was supposed to start. He and his light cruiser had been ordered to the new colony of Armana after sensor stations had picked up multiple anomalies near the colony. A task force was being assembled to provide permanent security, but as the closest ship to the colony, *Everest* had arrived first and was on her own.
"Ensign Lao, what can you tell me about these ships?"
"Not much, sir," the sensor operator replied. "We're estimating 6 battleship-class vessels, 12 frigate-class, and 6 heavy cruiser-class enemies."
"Weapons?"
"From what we can tell, sir, hull-mounted laser weapons and tubes for either missiles or torpedoes of some kind."
Randolph scratched his chin again. The *Everest* was very well armed for a light cruiser, sporting 60 5-pounder railguns on each side of the ship. It also boasted 84 *Hatchet* class missile tubes. But since humans tend to over-prepare, the ship was also fitted with one hull-mounted Mass Cannon, which would fire a 500 pound tungsten slug at several thousand miles-per-hour.
"Have the ships responded to our hails, Jennings?"
"Captain!" Lao interjected before Jennings could respond. "Sensors picking up energy spikes! Laser weapons charging!"
"All hands battle stations! And brace for impact! This is not a drill!"
The entire bridge crew could see the view screen as it was enveloped by a blinding flash of red light. The ship shuddered slightly.
"Damage report!"
"Direct hit, Captain! No hull breaches, no significant damage detected!"
Now Captain Randolph was pissed. Those alien bastards *dared* to shoot at them?
"All guns, prepare to fire! Broadside guns, focus on the smaller ships! Mass Cannon, focus fire on the battleships! Ready missiles!"
In less than 20 seconds, all weapon stations had signaled to the bridge that they were ready.
"Mass Cannon, FIRE!"
*Everest* shuddered as the 500 pound slug left the barrel of the cannon. The bridge waited for impact, watching the view screen, scarcely anyone even breathing. The slug impacted the lead battleship, ripping through its armor and continuing through the massive ship.
"Direct hit, Captain! Ripped through her bow to stern!"
"All stations, fire at will!"
Captain Randolph watched the screens as volley after volley of high-velocity death rained down on the enemy force. Within minutes the shells had shredded 20 of the 24 alien vessels, destroying most of them outright. The final few that were still operational turned and jumped to light speed, obviously eager to get away from the destruction the *Everest* had thrown at them.
"No more contacts, Captain! Sensing life signs in 2 enemy ships."
"Lieutenant Jennings, have Colonel Puller take 2 of his battalions of Marines and board those ships. Pacify whatever is on board and bring survivors back to the *Everest*. Ensign Lao, contact the Admiralty Board on Earth."
"What should I tell them, Captain?" Lao asked.
"Tell them we have first contact and first hostilities. I'll take the conversation in my quarters."
|
My team moved into position, Everyone in full cover, in a firing line. Mortar cannons, BFG 10000s enough firepower to make the entirety of america say "nice" in unison all pointed at a singular 100 meter by 100 meter patch of space.
And then the music started...
A few months ago, first contact was made, a small scared little thing that warned the world that a threat was coming, and it brought proof. Recordings of the fleet in battle, they would shine their lights, play their songs, point their guns and wait for the target to surrender.
Every time they never actually fired their weapons, we all assumed that they had such a reputation that they didn't need to. That was until we did our own scouting. With how gaudy their whole race was we were able to easily sneak in and gather intel. The spies came back laughing.
"They're completely fucking hollow mate!" they wheezed out between strained, hearty laughs.
"No no there isn't a weapon in ANY of those turrets I checked, here's the pictures if you don't believe me" One of the spies managed to squeeze out between fits of laughter.
He was right.
So that brings us to today, these pompous smug bastards would get what's coming to them.
Their leader and his *Sigh...* *accompanying orchestra of 100* Descends from their tacky golden ships that looked more like cruise ships then anything fit for interstellar travel.
They tap their scepter on the ground and take a breath in ready to proclaim this world as their own. Only to have the percent amount of projectiles currently occupying their bodies to rise higher then the average core temp of a star going supernove counted in kelvin.
&#x200B;
A few weeks later we started receiving transmissions from several other races, all formerly enslaved by our newly defeated enemies turned sycophantic worshipers. Honestly it's kind of disturbing we're trying to educate them on the whole "basic human decency" thing but it's not going well. We might have to try adopting the children out to human families soon... Oh right the transmissions
The transmissions were mostly of praise and thanks, though some tried to act tough, we've yet to receive a message back after we sent them a video of the slaughter.
The more peaceful races we invited to Earth as guests, they actually helped us alot with managing planet wide food production, more just making REALLY efficient transport systems that don't destroy produce during the trip.
But yeah I think that's everything bye for now son, hope this helps with your history project. Best put my name and such for if this changelog ever becomes a historical document.
Signed - Sir Jarreth Playnar, FORMER lieutenant of the Aetharan army, founder and current owner of Playnar Home Entertainments.
| 2020-03-21T10:25:30
| 2020-03-21T10:24:14
| 52
| 22
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[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle
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It was time for combat training, sounds harsher than it truly is. It just gives us a chance to use our sigils in a controlled environment. Personally, I always tried to come up with a reason not to participate, because unlike everyone else with their flame, skulls, bones, etc. My sigil was a plain circle, boring, unimaginative, unremarkable which is probably why so far, the teachers and trainers hadn’t bothered forcing me to participate regardless of how bad my excuse was… Until today...
Jake was first up, a good friend of mine with the sigil of a Rams head, similar in design to how Baphomet is portrayed but Jakes sigil was a counter sigil. Every blow he took regardless of what it was he could redirect back to his opponents without taking any of the damage himself, only downside is that his counters was limited to the medium of the attack. If he was shot he’d have to redirect the power back into the bullet to send it back to the attacker, if he was punched well that was easier. His opponent had a sigil that looked like spaghetti or a snake didn’t really pay attention as the boys fist went flying from him, stretching his arm to ridiculous lengths. The punch hit Jake and there was a brief pause in the world until the boy who attacked Jake started crying, his hand and arm back to normal but bruised and swollen.
Next up was Tobias, a horrendous bully whose sigil was that of an ant with a parasitic fungus on its head. His sigil allowed him to influence people, slowly but surely taking control. He used it quite often to manipulate people, with whispers of how he was in their head. Sadly our trainer had allowed us to choose our opponents and Tobias chose me...
“I’m not feeling well, I’ll pass, sorry Tobias” I said hoping it would help me.
Tobias murmured before replying in a half laugh “Ha, you’re just a coward you know I got you under my finger you boring nobody, you waste of space, you’re nothing to me”
I could feel his manipulation scratching in my brain, small whispers of having to fight back. I tried to ignore it, but Tobias kept murmuring and taunting until eventually I voluntarily let go.
“Fine, you’re right I’m nobody, I’m nothing, I guess I got no choice. I accept” With that the teacher rang the gong…
I felt sorry for Tobias, because for me my sigil kept me safe from what it did, for others not at all. I slowly walked up to him as people around us was talking amongst each other, Tobias was confused, everyone was confused. I kept walking.
“Tobias who is your opponent?” The teacher asked irritated as if Tobias just stood there for fun.
“I… I don’t know… I thought… I don’t know sir” Tobias answered quite flabbergasted. As I reach Tobias I let go of my sigil and everyone was in shock, Tobias even jumped back in confusion and fear.
“Who, what, how did you?” Tobias fumbled with the words, for him it made no sense as the memories didn’t fit.
“I am nobody, I am nothing just as you always said. My sigil might be a boring plain circle, unremarkable really. But it’s a symbol of the void, a symbol of nothing.” I said as I stretched my arm out towards him. “A circle you see can be filled with anything, it’s empty, it is nothing, just like you” I finished as Tobias disappeared and everyone started wondering what I was doing. You see, the ability my sigil grants is nothing, pure nothing, whatever I want can disappear from reality, its history wiped completely like it never existed to begin with, it was nothing. As I mentioned though my sigil protects my mind from it so while to everyone else Tobias had never existed I still remembered him same with how I could appear and disappear, I just removed my own existence for a moment as I had moved towards Tobias. My mind is protected because of the sigil… Tobias mind was not…
I let go of my sigils power and Tobias materialized again, in a vegetative state, standing, drooling and finally collapsing on himself. Apparently, nothing tends to break peoples mind as it’s a truly unfathomable phenomenon, I mean there’s a word for nothing which is something, but what is truly nothing?
&#x200B;
Thank you for reading. :)
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Din isn’t normal. He knows it. Everybody knows it. He doesn’t talk. He never does anything without instruction. He doesn’t fight back. That makes him an easy target, of course.
“Hey! Nobrain! That’s what your empty circle means right?” Barley’s gang ripples with laughter. Din doesn’t reply. He rarely does.
“Hey!” The fire strikes Din’s face. A different spot than this morning’s lashings, which is fine. “Answer when people talk to you, ya autistic freak!” This time it’s ice that stabs at Din’s cheek.
“That’s mean.” Din’s frail voice stops Barley’s assault. “You shouldn’t use autism like an insult.”
“Yeah? What are ya gonna do about it?” A kick to the groin brings Din to his knees, a hand grabs his wispy hair. Barley lowers his face to Din’s. “Watcha gonna do, huh? Hmm?” Din is dragged back to his feet.
Barley headbutts him. That’s a mistake. All the universe, no the multiverse is laid before him. Each of the innumerable stars, a tiny point, an infinitely small circle that’s barely visible, and yet you can still see the endless fractals embedded in each one. And the infinite void extends forever, making each mind-breaking point of light seem like just one electron on a vast beach of lead. He sees every star and every bird, every planet and every fly, every galaxy and every atom. Every beautiful aspect of his repulsive existence is laid before him like a feast.
Barley is silent, his eyes blank. Just like the new sigil on his head.
| 2020-02-26T08:28:41
| 2020-02-26T07:59:42
| 42
| 19
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[WP] "It's human-made, you know!" Reverse the usual fantasy scene where somebody gushes over elf/dwarf/whatever craftsmanship.
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Urist gingerly squeezed the brass actuator, and the hammer snapped forward with a neat metallic clap.
His shop had seen all manner of wares pass through - the Pass of Arkhaz was home to merchants of every shape, and their weapons decorated the walls of his cramped shop. Thin, mirror-like Elven blades sat next to handsome Orcish ironwood axes; noble Dwarven hammers mingled with Underfolk's short-spears on worn racks; there was even a stand of slender Edithian blowguns, and from the tall rafters of the shop hung a Giant's bow, split from the trunk of a proud oak, arrows taller than the crafty shopkeep himself.
But he had never possessed a Human gun. He rarely saw anything from the realm of Men, being so far West, but he had heard the stories: distant empires, across the Green Sea, who fought with fire and smoke, who had abandoned the art of armor-smithing as useless against their own weapons.
And now, looking at the polished steel device in front of him, Urist almost believed it. The Dwarves built machines, of course, but they were massive and strong, as all Dwarven crafts. He had never seen a gear smaller than his thumb - by the Mountain, it was tiny - and the Human's trick of storing motion in a 'spring' seemed more like magic than metallurgy.
"And this," the unkempt man in front of him produced a thin copper cylinder, "is a long-sight, designed for the device."
"And it does what?"
"Well, it lets you see further, so you can hit distant targets."
Urist chuckled. *That,* he knew, was a joke.
|
After working for years to on your new weaponsmithing techniques, using nothing but your hammer and iron, you have finally made a longsword you believe that even the merchant prince, "Ghaldien", would be interested in. After a year of showing your handiwork around, you find a note attached to your door, complete with Ghaldien's signet.
>Your crafts seem to be gathering attention on the south continent. I will visit in a week to your home. Be ready to demonstrate.
>- Ghaldien
You can hardly believe it. The merchant prince himself. The man who had enough money to buy the entire Grell race into slavery. How much would something like that even cost?
You prepare your house for such a visit, buying the finest foods and wine you can find on such short notice. Before you know it, the week is up, and you hear a strange knocking at your door.
A translucent venerable elf walks through your shut door.
"Of course," you think to yourself, "he's too busy to come here in person, he'd just psychicly project here." You mentally kick yourself for the week spent preparing food and drink for someone who wouldn't even physically attend.
The figure speaks without moving his mouth. "Greetings human. John Goldwind, I presume?"
Your mouth trembles. In front of you is a man so rich, he could bribe death itself to personally snuff your candle of life out. But still, you manage to speak. "Yes, I know you are a busy man, so I'll be brief. I'm sure you've heard about my blacksmithing." As you open the gemmed box containing the sword and scabbard, sweat begins to drip down your brow.
The ghostly figure once again speaks.
"The scabbard is decent quality, but not enough to stand on it's own. Where is the sword?"
You are absolutely baffled. The sword is in the display box, right next to the scabard, the iron dully gleaming, showing no hint of the sheer amount of force needed to hammer the iron into the right shape.
"The sword is in the case sir. It is above the scabbard. Would you like me to pick it up for you, given your psychic form?"
"I can't believe you have the gall to trick me like this. You dare waste my time? I will make sure your life is hell. I will pay one ducat to any man who deficates on your door. I think an endless stream of poverty stricken men soiling your house is an appropriate punishment. I will leave now. I'm glad I didn't spend the time travelling here in person."
You are in tears. A man with more money than your entire country has a vendetta against you. Maybe, just maybe, you could change his mind. You aren't sure if it will work, but you try placing the sword's hilt in the fading phantasm's hand. The figure immediately shatters.
The next day, you find a note on your door with the same signet as a week ago.
>A sword made from just iron and a hammer, no forge? You have made something so boring as to make magic not work, even remote viewing magic. I've changed my mind. I'm interested in as many units as you can produce.
>-Ghaldien.
| 2014-09-11T10:47:47
| 2014-09-11T10:12:54
| 158
| 21
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[WP] Your father left your family when you were a child to "go buy a pack of cigarettes". It is 10 years later and you're a teenager when your father walks back in, wearing the same clothes he left in, and insists he has only been gone half an hour.
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"You look like you've seen a ghost." uttered the familiar figure. Indeed I have. The simple tan coat, red tie, and shoes as spotless as ever. "Dad?" I responded. "Something wrong? Sorry I took a while." said my "father" in a clueless manner. There truly was something wrong. "Where the hell were you! Mom loved you! She at least deserved an explanation!" I shouted. This man who abandoned my mother and I for ten years expected what! A hug and a greeting? Who does he think he is?
"Well, son, if you can just calm down for a..." "No! How about you tell me what you were doing for the last decade looking for cigarettes!" I retorted. "Ten years! What are you talking about?" the man questioned. "Don't act like you don't know! You just went up and left me and mom!" "I've been gone for thirty minutes and you're acting like a damn drama queen." he said. "Thirty minutes! Look around you! Does it seem like it's been thirty minutes?" I said, pointing towards the interior of the house.
He looked around the shell of once a humble home. "You know what, just come inside." I held my hand out. There was a moment of hesitation but he held it. Step by step, I led him through the house. He began to notice all the changes around the place, including me. "Where did that come from? I guess I have been gone a long time." Well, that was obvious. I asked, calmly this time, "Where were you... Dad?" He seemed unsure yet confidently he said, "I'm telling you, son, all I've done was pick up a few cigarettes." Are you kidding me? All of this time and this is what I get? I pushed onward with my father close behind. I let go of his hand once we've reached the living room. "I should really talk to your mot-" "There." I remarked as I pointed towards the urn in the middle of the room. "That's who you are looking for."
He looked at the urn aghast. "Stop fooling around with me, Tom!" he exclaimed at me. "Tell me this is a joke! Tell me that this has got to be just another of your stupid pranks, Tom!" He was clearly confused and angered. It took me a moment to realize that this was my dad, but why doesn't he just admit it? I had to live ten years without any answers, and now he's asking me more. I just sat down on the floor and gave up. "When you left..." I slowly said. "...mom was so much more confused than I was. Now that she's gone, I don't have anyone else." The truth was I missed my dad, despite everything my mother told me. I was broken. I had nothing. "But you still have me? Don't you?" whispered my dad. He knelt down next to me. "While I don't understand what's possibly going on, I still love you son, and nothing can change that." I was close to tears. "Dad, I'm sorry bu..." "Hush." my father said welcoming me to a tight embrace. "I'm here now, I'm back from the store." I chuckled a bit. No matter what happened he was still a dad. My dad. I hugged him back. A hug to make-up for the last ten years.
END.
(15-year-old high school student here. I'm not a native English speaker so please do tell any mistakes I may have done. Thanks for reading!)
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There was something weird about this day
Harold, my brother, was acting weird as if he had seen something.
Ending school i went home.
Everything seemed just fine.
Lots of love from my family.
Don't know about my dad though, he disappeared 10 years ago.
Everytime he went to buy cigarretes he was quick. Not this time though.
Reappering home was my dad.
Something was wrong. like if he was...
Confused. for him not even 30 minutes had gone by
Rarely ever felt bad for dad since he dissapeared. He had abandoned us.
On the other hand, he might have been kidnapped.
Like that would stop him. Dad was badass.
Like, he would beat a thousand men in a fist to fist fight.
So... " what happened? " I asked him
Sometimes i thought he ran away with....
Kristen, his secret lover.
"You didnt do that did you?" he didnt like that question
Rapidly he punches me in the jaw.
In seconds i'm on the ground.
My head spins as i wake up and hear a familiar voice.
"You were trying to cross the border right?"
I quickly read the first letters on each sentence.
Damn you Todd Howard.
| 2018-11-08T05:52:01
| 2018-11-08T05:15:25
| 124
| 17
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[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect.
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My name is Marco.
The signs showed up randomly, at first. I would only see signs above people's heads if their name started with an "A", and above their heads would float "Andrea - Murder".
I didn't interfere, not after my first attempt. I wanted to, of course, but after Beth...
I stopped a girl with "Beth - Suicide", merely telling her that she'd need only ask for help if she needed someone to talk to. She turned blank as slate, and I saw her sign change. "Beth - Car crash". I tried to stop her - I really, really did - but after hearing a stranger calling her by name, telling her she should get help... I guess she freaked out. She ran across the road, presumably to get away from me, and didn't see the 2009 red Mercedes being chased by a police van.
When it got further into the alphabet, from B to C and beyond, I grew a bit troubled. What would my own sign say? Hopefully, old age. I didn't want to be just another early-twenties white male statistic. The day was drawing closer and closer regardless of my hopes. Hs, Is, Js and Ks were already showing up, and I only needed to wait for the Ls before my turn arrived.
It arrived all too soon.
One morning, out of nowhere, "Louis - Snake bite" was flashing in front of my face. I ran home. No way I was going to stay out on the big day. I did it carefully, of course, no need to rush something or change my sign prematurely.
My mother, "Diane - Dementia", was sitting at the dining room table when I got home. I greeted her quickly, and ignored her "What's the rush Markie?" while I ran to my room. I had already set up a full-body mirror there in anticipation of this day.
I got into my room, hearing my mother's footsteps rushing behind me. Motherly instinct to protect, no doubt. Too bad I didn't have the heart to tell her about the signs. *Her* sign.
I reached my room. I could see a faint glowing above my head, already in the vague shape of a sign, but no name nor words appeared there.
And, just as my mother reached my room - my dear, loving mother - my sign lit up. Bright red. It only contained two words, which were just in time to warn me of the knife-wielding hand moving towards my back.
*MARCO - RUN!*
|
Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D
| 2015-03-31T08:25:25
| 2015-03-31T07:50:48
| 73
| 21
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[WP] You scroll through r/WritingPrompts, and sigh after seeing your 17th “misunderstood dragon” post. “These posts aren’t even interesting,” your knight friend says. “Yeah, they don’t even get the dragons right half the time.” You should know, because you are a dragon in the modern world.
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God, I'm so misunderstood. Gold? Fire? Destruction? Everybody tells me "Florgroth, why don't you start a horde?" Or, "Florgroth, why don't you shut up for two minutes and help me burn this Siberian village?" They just don't get it man, they just don't get it.
My knight buddy, Zitor, always says to me, "Florgroth, life is too short to live another dragon's dream." He should know. He was living his father's dream that day we met. He rode out here swinging his sword yelling about how we'd all perish and he'd be a dragonslayer and his father would finally look at him like he looks at his older, more successful brother who is an accountant at a Fortune 500 company.
Well, anyway, he was running out there with his sword I just had to feel bad for him. He didn't stand a shred of a chance. I've seen people roll in with machine guns and RPGs and get wiped out without second thought. This guy didn't even have a horse. Even he was trying to be stealthy it would've been a stretch but he was just out there yelling. The pressure of it all must've got to him because he just broke down crying after awhile.
My family invited them into our home. They're pretty chill like that. He stayed in my room. God, I'm so misunderstood. We chatted some. He told be about his father and his brother and how he just tried so hard to make it but he just wasn't cut out for life in our modern society, damn it. I feel like he's the only one who understands me.
There's not many career paths for dragons now-a-days. Pillaging and extortion is taboo if you aren't a human. I don't want to go fire some forge or boiler or whatever. I don't want to be a loan officer at my father's horde, either. I just, oh I don't know. I just, ugh I just don't know! I just, I JUST want to sing! *And so I cry sometimes when I'm lying in bed...*
|
People believe that i am a majestic creature, that i can fly and that I can breath fire. Fools.
Animals flee before me, not because I can fly and breath fire, but because they are cowards. Some say my reasoning is alien and unbecoming of other creatures of my size and weight, yet alligators do not kill hippos because they have vendettas but because they are hungry. I do not speak because i have something to say but because i do not speak due to my lack of human vocal chords.
Let me tell you a story: an Indonesian man comes into a hospital due to a horrific wound he has sustained. That wound is a bite from me. This Indonesian barely made it to the hospital from blood loss and died soon after due to septic shock.
| 2021-02-26T19:56:37
| 2021-02-26T19:09:21
| 35
| 10
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[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself
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*This is dumb as shit,* you think as you sulk in the otherwise mundane room. *People get superpowers based on what kind of food they like? Or what, how good they’re able to interpret the symbolism of different foods? What the fuck does that even mean? What flavor is invisibility?*
You pause. What flavor *would* invisibility be?
“Hurry it up, kid, you’re not the only one who needs to do this today,” says a brash security guard, opening a door to check on you.
You turn to glare at her. “This is literally going to affect the rest of my life,” you say. “Could I please have half a second to think about it?”
She rolls her eyes and pops her gum but leaves and closes the door behind her.
You survey your options. A pile of rolled injera, an assortment of nigiri featuring every type of fish imaginable, a plate of deep-fried black pudding…There were endless dishes, endless cuisines. More foods than a single person could possibly be familiar with, and more choices than a person could possibly make sense of.
*Luckily, I’m not here to try to get the best superpower,* you think. *All I have to do is figure out which of these options represents the biggest “fuck you” to whatever powers that be are making us all do this.*
You’ve already given some thought to “throwing” this little contest in protest, intentionally choosing something generic or boring in order to get a lame superpower. But you’re not sure exactly what that would look like; how do you distinguish between unoriginal and classic, one-dimensional versus elegantly simple? Who’s to say that interestingness even matters at all? A glass of still water is about as boring as it gets, but you can still see arguments for it potentially yielding several interesting superpowers; maybe the ability to breathe underwater, or to talk to aquatic animals, or, hey, even invisibility.
Besides, what would throwing the contest accomplish other than crippling you with a shitty power? Lots of people end up with subpar powers, albeit unintentionally; you’d hardly be the first.
No, you needed something bigger. Something that would really challenge the system, turn it upside down.
You survey the room one more time. Four walls, a ceiling, a floor. Lots and lots of food on an impossibly long table…
You smile.
And then, without further hesitation, you chomp right onto the corner of the mahogany dining table.
***
“This is outrageous!” erupts the goddess of law. “She can’t do this!”
“I knew this would happen,” says the god of prudence and restraint. “Humans can’t control themselves. They always have to push limits.”
“I think the girl’s a genius,” says the deity of wit. “The table! All these years, and we never had someone try the table.”
“I think the girl’s an idiot,” says the deity of social order. “Anyone could tell the table wasn’t meant as an option. What was she thinking? How absolutely absurd.”
“What are we meant to do now?” whines the goddess of law. “There’s no correspondence for biting the table, no associated superpower. Every human is gifted one special ability from the gods. What will hers be?”
“Why don’t we allow her to choose?” suggests the deity of wit. “Sort of a reward for outsmarting the gods, so to speak.”
The goddess of law opens her mouth to express vehement disapproval but is in intercepted by the god of choice. “You know full well why we can’t do that. I too admire the girl’s moxie, but no human is prepared to make a decision of that magnitude. That reality is why we devised this system in the first place—to simplify the choice, and ease the burden of regret.”
As the various deities worry and quarrel over the girl’s decision, the goddess of fate, still in her security guard disguise, watches the others in amusement and noisily chews her gum.
“Could you please stop that?” chastises the deity of social order. “What are you smiling about? What’s so funny?”
The goddess of fate grins. “You’re all arguing over this, but the solution is really very simple.”
“Oh?” asks the goddess of law, annoyed.
“The girl will get the power that she selected,” the goddess of fate says.
“But she didn’t…there’s no…” the goddess of law begins.
The deities look at each other.
“For better or worse, she chose what she chose,” the goddess of fate says. “The only logical thing to do is to honor her choice.”
The other deities are silent, each considering her proposal. One by one, each gives their nod of assent.
The goddess of fate watches the girl who caused this whole debacle on a television screen displaying footage from a hidden security camera in the room of the test. “Good luck, girl.”
***
“*Superpower: None?* What does that mean?” reads the most recent message in your inbox.
You give a small sigh, then smile. You usually didn’t notice your lack of superpower. Since everyone’s ability is different, people tend to assume that they just haven’t ever seen you in a situation where you’d have an opportunity to use it.
Of course, there was chaos at first. Your family and friends were baffled when you returned without any powers. You were a little baffled yourself; though you had made your choice quite intentionally, you really had no idea what the consequences of your decision would be. The media wrote sensationalized thinkpieces on your condition about things like whether not having a superpower in a world of superpowered people was, in fact, some kind of perverse superpower itself. Some hailed you as a maverick, while others looked upon you as a pitiful idiot. Many called you a liar, accusing you of having a power but hiding it, perhaps because it was just that fantastic.
But all in all, the more time that passed, the more that people forgot about you entirely. You faded from the public eye and went on to live a mostly normal life.
But still, there were cases in which it came up. Like on your online dating profile.
“I don’t have a power,” you type.
“?”
“You don’t happen to remember the news story six years ago about the girl who bit the table and didn’t get powers, do you?”
“I do…”
“I’m the girl who bit the table.”
“Hahahaha”
“Yeah, yeah” You move to log off.
“Wait!”
“what?”
“I’m the girl who bit the fork.”
|
"This is the opposite of Santa Claus," I said to myself, as I shambled alone through an endless white expanse.Some things you believe as a child, then one day you realize it was all a game for children. With the *transition,* well, I have to admit I never believed it. Yet there I was and it seemed as real as anything.*Maybe I'm in the North Pole*, I thought as I continued to walk into nothing, contemplating what exactly qualifies as a reindeer game.
In the distance I saw something dark fade into view, it quickly grew til I realized it was flying towards me at a high speed.I braced myself, but it just flew past me in every direction; the white faded into a dark field of stars, as if I was flying through the night sky or outer space. All was silent but I could feel a wind from the field of stars as it wooshed by.
And suddenly I could see a.... table? flying towards me. I got low and got ready to catch it with my head down in a grimace. I was ready to possibly get wiped out by the fastest table I'd ever seen.
It stopped on a dime, 1 foot in front of me but I still came off my feet stumbling backwards like an idiot. And there it was, an empty wooden table. Four legs, brown finish, just like the stories. There was nothing on it, though.
At that thought, a tablecloth popped out of nothing and immediately after that all types of food imaginable as the table expanded far to either side.
"Woah," I whispered, coming to my feet.
All was silent for a moment as I walked by the tableside, looking at each platter before me. All manner of sandwiches, pasta dishes, seafood and meats with every type of garnish I had ever seen; Lasagna, Cake, Chicken Tikka Masala, Empanadas, Croissant Sandwiches, Chinese Takeout were all present. The first step towards making a decision would simply be to overcome all the sights and smells I was being overwhelmed by.
"Take a bite," commanded a deep voice, echoing from all around me, "It is time."
I had thought long and hard about what I would do. I had seen how those who said they had eaten different foods had turned out. The psychics and telekenetics had all ingested different fruits. Those with super strength had eaten corn on the cob or corn bread, which I just so happened to be looking at as I thought about them. A bite of a bean and cheese burrito would give you the power of super speed... I don't know why.
I had studied all my life for this moment, though I doubted it would ever come to be quite in this way. I wasn't going to waste this opportunity. I would make a move no one could have predicted... not even this booming voice, were it an all powerful deity or something.
I got on one knee right by the table, lifted the tablecloth and took a bite of the wood. I felt the grain of the table splintering and cracking between my teeth. I had prepared for this by drinking whole milk everyday for the past 10 years. I pulled a piece of the twisted and wet wood fibers with my mouth like a god-forsaken dog.
Finally, I was able to get a piece of the table in my mouth.
There was a pure silence now; an eery stillness. Then an explosion of red light from every pore of my body. I was infused with the red light, I became a part of the light as it became so bright and all encompassing that there was no boundary between me and it. I was almost driven mad by the humming of the light that got louder and louder until there was nothing but the light and the humming and they were both one and the same and I was one with them.
The redness dimmed and settled onto my skin, like soft cloth. I was somewhere else now, too. It was... well, it seemed to be a wooden cabin. I was fatter too, as if what I had eaten had an effect on my body.
*Ugh, what have I become?* I asked myself, feeling fat and disheveled. I buried my face in my hands to find I was wearing black mittens.
I looked to my right, at the mirror... to see I was none other than Santa Claus himself. I ho ho hoe'd at the ceiling but there was no response save for the blizzard outside my window in the north pole. My very hubris had sealed my fate to hand out presents every year for eternity.
This story is canon.
| 2020-03-19T10:40:27
| 2020-03-19T09:29:08
| 57
| 29
|
[WP] Time traveler(s) did go back in time to kill Hitler. They succeeded by convincing Japan to attack Pearl Harbor to bring the US into the war.
|
It had been another long day in the Imperial Navy, Yamamoto reflected. The Army and Navy were fighting over the latest budget increase again, and after arguing with an Army General that no, ships could not in fact run on fumes, for the past hour, he was looking forward to a quiet night of gambling at an acquaintance's home.
When he arrived, he was surprised to see that the fellows who awaited him at the mahjong table were people that he had never seen before. Most senior members of the Japanese government looked down on gambling and other vices, so the small community of avid gamblers was close and well-known. Where was his friend, anyways?
"Hello, Admiral Yamamoto," bowed one of the men. Upon a closer look he appeared to have several scars on his face. Bullet scars, then, perhaps from the war in China?
"My apologies," Yamamoto replied. "But I have not had the courtesy of meeting you fellows previously. May I ask you to introduce yourselves?"
"Indeed, forgive us for your audacity," said the first speaker. "But unfortunately tonight will not be the usual sort of gambling you were looking for. You may call me Sparrow."
"Well then, 'Sparrow-san,'" Yamamoto replied, "Are you perhaps the latest iteration of the hothead officers, looking to change the world by overthrowing the government yet again?" There had virtually been some plot or actual coup every month prior to the war in China, and many officers strongly disapproved of Tojo's tepid administration. Much as Yamamoto would be pleased to see Tojo go, he wasn't exactly interested in trying something unnecessary like this.
The man laughed. "We certainly are looking to change the world... at least the world of the future." At that, the man bowed. "For you see, that is from whence we came... and that is what we hope for you to achieve."
At this statement, Yamamoto could do nothing than laugh loudly. It was a deep laugh, embodying not only the ridiculousness of the man's statement, but also the ridiculousness of Yamamoto's day, and of the whole situation in general. At least these guys were forward with their craziness.
"I too, have read the American stories of time travel," said Yamamoto. "And I expect you to tell me of some incident deep in my past that nobody else would know about. Very well, I will take my first big gamble here and listen to you: what do you want me to do?"
The man named Sparrow seemed unperturbed by Yamamoto's outburst. If anything, a deep smile appeared on his face. "Why, nothing more than to launch an attack on the US Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor."
"Attack the US? Unprovoked?" Certainly, there were a lot of tensions between the US and Japan right now. They did not approve of Japan's war in China, nor did they approve of the Japanese seizure of Indochina. But there were already high level talks, and a special diplomat had already been sent to the US, so Yamamoto was confused as to what these people would look to achieve.
"Indeed... we want the US to get involved in the war. We know that the planners are already planning an attack on Malaya and the Dutch East Indies. We also know that there are thoughts to attack the Philippines to secure the supply route from Indonesia to Japan. But that won't get the US involved in the war enough... indeed, we have seen either a small scale conflict or a negotiated peace. No, we want the US to be engaged in a total war, one that will encompass the whole world, much as in Europe."
"I assume you are Japanese. No matter from whence you have come, you know that if Japan enters a total war with the US that it can only end in our complete destruction. And that an assault on Hawaii-on US territory-especially unprovoked-will enrage the Americans to the point where there will be no mercy for our Japan. Why would you condemn our people to such oblivion?" Yamamoto was frightened by this man's fervor, yet at the same time, he recognized that these men were not your normal crazed lunatics.
"The alternative is worse... for if the regime of Adolf Hitler is allowed to fester, you may count the population of us Japanese in this room, and it will be the same for virtually anyone else not "perfect enough" for their insanity."
Yamamoto felt a great headache coming on. This entire tale was crazy... but somehow, didn't it all seem to make sense? He had heard of the German hatred for the Jewish people, had seen their diplomats repeatedly ask for the few Jews on Japanese and Chinese soil to be exterminated. Certainly, that was the greater craziness... and that was the one that he knew was going on. He sighed.
"I am but an old man these days with little but my legacy to look forward to. Bringing Japan to ruin will no doubt be a massive stain on such a legacy. While I do not mind this fury on myself, for my family name and my descendants to be damned is too much to bear. If I partake in your scheme... will you at least seek to rehabilitate my legacy, that despite launching this crazy, nonsensical attack... that despite the fact that you of the future have had many years of history to know of ways that I could be more successful in the conduct of the war... that I was an intelligent man, who loved his men, who knew this was a bad idea, and who served his country despite knowing what this immediate future might bring?"
The man nodded, and Yamamoto nodded in return. The bodies of the men started to flicker, then they had abruptly vanished. A last, ghostly voice, seemed to echo in the now empty room.
"I will make sure that they know you are a great gambler, Grandfather."
|
"What... is the meaning of this? How did you get in here?" The man reach for his glasses as he scrambles out of bed, reaching for his pistol as he rolls behind the bed.
"Revered Anc... President Tojo."
"Hideji," the second intruder in the man's room elbows once in the middle of his greetings, reminding him of the Ontological Variance threshold and again afterward. "It's 内閣総理大臣, it should be Prime Minister, don't tell me you forgot to update the Universal Translator to this period?"
The first intruder gives himself a facepalm before twisting the ring on his wrist rapidly. In the mean time, his partner taps something on his own wrist, emitting a scattering of aqua spheres of light across the room.
*click click*
The trigger of the pistol sounds out pointlessly. The intruders are speaking in Japanese that seems... off, as such, the man decides to subdue them for questioning and alert the guards at the same time, but the damn gun refuses to go off!
"Prime Minister Tojo, calm down please!" The second intruder hold his hands up with an ancient, tattered book in his hand.
"Guards! Guards!" The man in pajama screams loudly, throwing away the pistol in his hand and reach for the sword sitting against his nightstand.
"It's no use, no one can hear you." The first intruder picks up the pitcher of water sitting on the table and throws it against the floor. "Just, calm down and read this, oh, and he did say to read this first. Unless you are too scared to read some words in front of two unarmed men." The man reaches into his breastpocket and pulls out a handwritten letter inside a sealed water-stained envelope, putting it on the table. Likewise, the second man puts the book in his hand down onto the table before backing away.
With the sword unsheathed, the man picks up the envelope, staring at the seal and the all too familiar handwriting addressed to him with a frown.
A quick tear along the side of the envelope, a crisply folded, brilliant white piece of paper falls out. The frayed edge and slight yellowing at some parts speak of its age, despite the high quality of the calligraphy paper. The man unfolds it and read it from top to bottom, right to left, a look of doubt, then a look of surprise, then anger, then fear. Ignoring the two suspicious man, he grabs the book gingerly, flipping the paper from right to left, his eyes never stopping. With the occasional frown and gasp being the only companions.
The atrocities at Nanjing already weighted heavily on his mind, but for the sake of the Empire, he can only ignore it. But to think, the Empire would expand to do so repeatedly in Los Angeles, San Diego, Seattle, and elsewhere. But for the Germans to betray them like this... and after beating them in the 20 Years War, their own citizens would rise up to try and save the so called "inferior races".
The man has no doubt of the content of the book, he can see his own thoughts, analysis and of course, the allusions that only he'd know in the writings.
"So... what happened afterwards?" The man tries to hold back the tears threatening to overflow from his eyes.
"There's only 1183 of us left."
The man stares blankly for a few moments. "And how many times has it been?"
"..." The two men look at each other in shock. Their bodies starting to flicker in blossoming red-lights, like butterflies of blood. Resigned to their fate, the two man answers truthfully.
"We don't know, we just know that each time, it seems to be getting better, Great Grandpa."
"I see... and why Osaka Imperial University?"
"Huh? That place was wiped out during the Doolittle, er... The Osaka Raid by the Chinese in 1942."
"Ah... I see." The two men's red silhouette bursts as soon as the man realizes the truth, leaving nothing except for the broken pitcher scattered across the floor, the book and letter no longer in the man's hand. Strangely enough, a tiny piece of crude electronics is left behind.
"This was supposed to be a right and just war..." The man sighs, having to waste the work of his trusted rival in the Navy. "They say the ancestor have to plant a tree to shade their descendants, but they never mentioned about bearing their sins." The man couldn't shake the estimated casualty number written by his another self. A singleman for billions, to atone, this isn't such a bad deal. The man laughs bitter as he walks out, since those warmongers wants it so bad, so be it.
------------
Bonus
An android bursts into a control room, expecting resistance. "All your bases are belong to us!" But only the hum of the machinery answers its declaration, shortly after, everything wavers, then disappear.
| 2016-10-30T12:47:00
| 2016-10-30T11:43:08
| 47
| 15
|
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed.
|
“Well look who’s back again, if it isn’t the luckiest man alive” Death says sarcastically as I approach the table.
“I really hope not” I reply as I pick up the coin.
“Come on now, most people are happy to get a second chance” Retorts Death with a laugh
“I was cool with the second chance, even the third, but this is getting ridiculous” I say as I flick the coin into the air one more time. I close my eyes as I hear the distinct ‘ping’ ‘ping’ ‘rattle’ of the coin settling down on the marble table. Death’s laugh is all I need to hear to know that I’ve lost once again.
“Look at that, it’s the luckiest day of your life again” Death says with a smile.
“You know the rules, pick a date”
“Do I really have to? Seriously, just let it end, I can’t do it again.” I plead.
“Not my choice mate” Death says sympathetically “even I have to follow the rules”
“Yeah, you’ve told me a thousand times” I angrily say
Death lets out a loud laugh as he says “more than that my friend, more than that”
“Fuck you. January 8th, 2012” I growl at him
“Are you sure you don’t want to go a little further back and try again?” Death asks, already knowing the answer.
“I figure there can’t be too many other ways I can try it at this point”
“You’d be surprised” Death says as he waves his hand past my face.
I wake up and look at the clock. 7:19am. Again. It’s always 7:19am. I fucking hate that time. I look over at my wife. I fucking hate my wife. I look at the picture of my family next to the night stand. I fucking hate my family. I don’t know this family nearly as well as some of the others, but I still fucking hate them. I fucking hate all of it. I fucking hate living. I’m ready to die and stay that way.
I reach over to the nightstand, pull out the 9mm, put in my mouth and pull the trigger.
“Well look who’s back again”
|
"Call it" Death said, the coin twirling between his bony fingers.
"Do we really need to keep going through this charade?" I asked.
How long had it been now? 500 lives? The first time I went through, I expected reincarnation, but life... or I guess Death, was not so kind. I got to relive life from the point I chose... but with enough randomization that foreknowledge was all but useless. It got hard to keep track without the year changing like it should...
"Call it" he said again, tossing the coin into the air.
"Tails" I sigh.
We both look, and of course the coin falls down tails side up.
"Choose". Talkative as always.
"89" I reply. "I grow tired of our game".
5 minutes later I am awake. It was a lucky turn of events that I died peacefully in my sleep on the day of my 89th birthday.
"Call it".
"Sideways!'
A smirk forms on his face as he flips the coin.
...
...
"Call it".
This is Hell.
| 2016-09-23T11:33:36
| 2016-09-23T08:47:36
| 28
| 15
|
[WP] Three friends. Four AM. No dialogue
|
Nothing good happens after 2 a.m. That's what my mom always told me anyways. But how do you say no to the hottest friend you have inviting you to come over to make juice.
I mean...she is in Germany...
No-no-no. I can't be that guy. I don't cheat.
I mean...she should've called me right?
Maybe she had class?
I caught myself thinking, "Fuck her, she should've called," as I opened the door to the taxi and sat down in the backseat.
What the fuck do you say to a taxi driver at 4 in the morning. I just stared blankly out the window, imagining all the different ways this could go down.
I'd just break up with her tomorrow. Not a problem. Not a big deal right? Yeah, not a big deal.
As I got out of the taxi, I noticed the bottle in his hand. Well, fuck, should've left earlier.
I walked up the stairs to her apartment and knocked on the door. She was wearing her pajamas, but damn, she looked good. There were no words exchanged. She just pointed to a bottle of wine and I could not bring myself to do anything but nod. I spotted her stereo system and found my favorite Otis song. I turned it on to let the music decide where this night would end up. As she brought me my wine, I brought her in closer, still speechless of how flawless this girl was.
We danced silently, and I had forgotten all of Victoria back in Germany.
But there she was again. I suddenly remembered, but caught myself before I could stir a panic.
Robin knew I was taken. She knew....right? Unless she...unless she assumed when I talked to her earlier that day, that I had broken up with Victoria.
Either way I couldn't break up the moment. She would not be ecstatic to know that I came here still a taken man.
That was it. I had to call her. Or do something.
I slowly put my hand up motioning for her hold on. The music still was going on which kept the mood even. I rushed to the bathroom and washed my face. No way. No way. No way. I couldn't be that guy. I could not be that guy. I took out my phone to call her, but it ended up on top of the sink, open and waiting to be dialed. I grabbed the sink with both my hands and breathed deeply. With one final sigh, I grabbed the phone to call, but realized...this wasn't my phone.
I stepped outside to find my cellphone open on the table, music off, and Robin nowhere to be found. I looked at my cellphone and saw that it read, "Missed Call: Victoria".
Robin knew. She was probably furious and unwilling to talk.
I couldn't even bring myself to call Victoria.
I knew it was over.
Three friends. Four AM. And no words could save me from this situation.
|
-002
The girl in the room is crying. I’m on the floor. I can’t sleep. Jack’s asleep on the other bed, the one Jane’s not sleeping on. I just stare at the ceiling. It’s a wonderful nothing, I guess. Songs I haven’t listened to in three or four hours keep playing in my head. I would listen to music but my music player thing is out of battery. I’m out of battery, it seems. I’m so tired all the time. So bored. Bored because I want something to happen, but I’m too lazy to actually do anything about it. I’m in charge of my life and it only takes one little action to change it forever. Then I wouldn’t be bored any longer. All about me. Huh. It’s all about me.
I get up, and stretch. I yawn and rub my eyes, and look outside. My God, it’s beautiful. I should just go outside. Jane is still crying, only they’re soft sobs. I know I should go over and comfort her, or something. I’ve been friend’s with her for awhile. I’ve also been friends with Jack. It’s funny. I always feel like I’m alone all the time when there are people all around me.
I check my phone. No messages or anything, why should there be? It’s four in the morning, and nothing is happening. The world is still. I go outside onto the pavement and look up at the sky. Jack’s house isn’t in the city or in a town so it’s easy to see the stars burning bright. It is euphoric, in a way. I find comfort in the smallest things, and I think that’s all I want, really. Comfort. Peaceful moments. Repeated things.
I hear the sliding door open and close quietly. Jane sits near me. I look at her and smile, a melancholy half smile, and I say nothing. I think it’s because I don’t have anything to say. All I do is touch her shoulder, and she closes her eyes. I take my hand off her shoulder and cross mine. Maybe that’s all it will take, is one little movement.
The door opens and closes again. Jack walks up to Jane, places both of his hands on her shoulders, and they kiss, a long, romantic movie kiss. Under the stars. All I can do now is look up at the stars. They seem to beckon to me. They tell me to do something.
One day I will. One day I will. I know I will. I have to be somewhat substantial. I’ll finally write something. I’ll finally act in something. Do something. I must do something.
All I feel is love, but all I hear is nothing.
I sigh, and look at the sky before going back inside. I may be looking for a god up there, somewhere. What I’d do to try again, but what’s the point when all this is just meaningless?
At least I’ve come to terms with that.
| 2014-01-02T11:25:18
| 2014-01-02T10:14:07
| 14
| 10
|
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :)
|
So here’s the sitch: I totally do play video games. And no, I’m not one of those r/notliketheothergirls who insists I’m the only girl who games, or that I should receive all the sexual admiration for it. I’ve dabbled in just about everything - FPS, MMORPG, VR, PC, console, mobile, puzzles, survival, capture/collect, simulator, zombie, satire, first- second- and third-person open-world, linear, racing. Club Penguin. Any genre you name, I’ve probably tried it. Not any game, but any genre.
So sue me if I’m partial to pastoral games. As if you never spent hours of your time creating the perfect face or the perfect house or the perfect life for some imaginary person. It’s addicting to be able to control just about every aspect, especially if you tweak the settings and gameplay options so you can reverse any negative unforeseen happenings that would bring chaos to your perfect little world.
The thing is, when the Catalyst happened, I wasn’t just playing one game. I actually had two computers - my laptop and my old family desktop - running two different games. I know this sounds silly, but I really wanted to continue the epic saga I’d begun in The Sims 2 when I was in high school, now that I had finally downloaded The Sims 4. I skipped 3 because the drastic change in gameplay had been too much for me at the time. But after watching countless YouTubers take a crack at it, I was finally ready to give it another chance. Just, not without my OG family.
Upfront, I don’t mod. I don’t know how, and frankly I’m scared to try. The last time I messed with the source code on anything, I ended up destroying my computer. So, no mods for me. It’s cool for other people to, and I’ll admit I laugh every time cabbages rain from the sky as Thomas the Tank Engine careens toward Solitude. But I’m afraid if I touch it, I’ll break it. And then my husband will break me (not really; he’s very kind).
Now, I may not mod, but I also haven’t played Sims 2 without cheats enabled since I first installed the game. I don’t really know the cheat codes for Sims 4, yet, but I’m content to play it on vanilla for now. I mean, I was. I kinda haven’t touched it since that night.
When everybody else started getting their powers, I was convinced I had been skipped over. I mean, what kind of powers do Sims have, anyway? My husband, bless him, had been playing Mass Effect: Andromeda. Now he can interface with his own personal AI, and has a lot of cool abilities with electronics and the like. It certainly helped get us out of our financial situation. That is, until I discovered what had been done to me.
I don’t know how to explain to you exactly how unsettling it is to be sitting on a toilet when suddenly *POOF* confetti erupts around you. I definitely didn’t fall off the seat, but only because of the cramped space around the pot. I don’t know if I thought it was the ceiling collapsing, or that I was hallucinating, but it didn’t take more than a couple days to realize I was pregnant. A few days later, and I was a certifiable balloon.
Newscasters and reporters were too busy with all the rest of the fallout to take note of me and my sudden predicament. In fact, the one journalist I did get in contact with laughed me off the phone.
Luckily, my body was already a wasteland from years of inactivity and poor maintenance. I basically laid in bed for the duration of my pregnancy - a whopping week and a half. Then, I was fine. I popped right up and started taking care of my new baby. But she didn’t stay my baby for long. And she also didn’t stay alone. It seems that birth control isn’t a thing in the Sims: you woohoo for baby, you get a baby (eventually). Only irl, I didn’t have the ability to decide whether I wanted to get pregnant or not. If I had sex, there was a greater than 50% chance I’d get pregnant. And I like having sex with my husband. I’m sure you see where this is going.
Now, I’m literally a baby-making machine, minus the metal parts. And since they are the product of what can only be described as magical fuckery, my brood of children has amassed into an army. That dumbass reporter really wishes she’d spoken to me now.
Because of my specific circumstances, I’m also able to summon Death literally any time I want. And since we are best friends, Death will do my bidding if I ask nicely. Mostly I just ask Death to make sure my colony of offspring have room to grow, to thrive, and to make their own families. And also to spare me whenever I do something stupid, which I do quite a lot now that I’m basically invulnerable. Mauled by an animal? Ctrl+Shift+C maxmotives. Get hit by a car? Same thing! Am I worn out and exhausted? maxmotives, baby!
I don’t sleep except to dream. I have gotten so much done since realizing my powers, and I’ve only scratched the surface of my potential. I discovered I can make a living selling designer babies - especially since I don’t *have to* have sex to make a baby, and I can literally make a baby with anyone. You want Orlando Bloom’s kid? No problem. Kristin Bell? I can do it in my sleep! And recently I discovered that I don’t actually have to wait the full week and a half to get the baby; I can Speed Up Pregnancy with nothing more than the desire! It takes maybe a day after that, although it is quite an ordeal. My husband is actually quite pissed at me, because we haven’t had sex in weeks since I made the discovery. But I think once I take a break from my new business, I’ll get back in his good graces with minimal effort. After all, I can afford literally anything he wants just by shouting, “motherlode!” But that annoyingly causes inflation, so I don’t do it often anymore.
I gotta go now. Chris Hemsworth Jr. #7 is getting ready to claw his way out, and I need to have both hands free to brace myself for the birth. Toodles!
|
"You cant even fight what even is your power?" - Sven, an old friend now chairman of the hunter superorganisation and Doom slayer incarnation
Johnsons corpse was still fresh I couldnt keep my eyes away from it.
Just as I turned around the demon lunged at me and tore of my arm "Im gonna die here, im gonna die for re-"
Everything was black... just black
" **Is it possible?...** "
" **there you are** "
24 hours before my death
-6 am in the CHA-
"Alright hunters, as you already know a major hell outbreak happend in 016.49"
"7 teams will head out to bring 016- back to the family friendly place it was, its a C rated outbreak so that means all C ranked hunters to the west gate!"
I hope someone will chose me, a leader maybe even a potential friend, I never was a good hunter I dont remember the game I played just that I woke up with no powers but exquisite weapon handling.
Well weapons against demons never really did much but C rank demons can be killed by silver bullets easily, making me number 12 of the C Rank
.
Johnson, incarnation of the major hero tracer, who could move as fast as time came up to me "hey newbie, I heard from you kill of the B rank monster last week, wanna join my team"
It wasnt the best team to join but sure a fun one, maybe I could permanently join them. Lets see.
8 hours before my death
It seems that the outbreak spread into 017 and 015 the whole B rank got involved too
4 hours before my death
We lost franklynn she died to a krow, a scary fusion of demon and crow ripping people apart in supersonic speed rank A.
The situation is worse than we thought, much worse. It seems that the level keep increasing the HO has send an S rank to close the gate early, we havent heard of him yet. Appearently even an SS rank is on its way.
1 hour.
A giant firestorm has broken out, entire team A and B has been wiped out, a lot of C ranks have managed to get away, our team is too far we cant go back now.
0
I felt the demons teeth ripping of my arm, i felt them inside of me, i felt everything at once.
At least everything is over now.
" ***is it possible?*** "
Was that... a voice? Was that god? What was that?
" ***there you are*** "
Color flooded my sight, it seemed that the firestorm was over snow. Snow everywhere and a little floating device infront of me
" ***guardian... guardian? Eyes up guardian!*** "
How can i be alive?
" ***im a Ghost. Actually i'm your Ghost. And you... well you've been dead a long time.*** "
How long?
" ***in your time? About 12 years*** "
What are you?
" ***as i just told you, im a Ghost the traveler, sort of the machine that created me has send me, appearently even into another universe, its just me and you.*** "
It seemd that the demon gate has took over the whole 0. District and the demons are fighting against S ranks on the front since 12 years ive been dead I wonder how far we have come
A weird looking stray demon appeared, we both scared to death, well again for me actually
" ***reach inside of you, deep down you will see a light, grasp it, use it*** "
My revolver, still in my hand exploded in fire, remodelled it burned as bright as the sun, not hurting me but making me feel powerfull, powerfull eneough to take on the world
| 2019-08-12T00:38:07
| 2019-08-12T00:09:11
| 30
| 14
|
[WP] Every person in the world undergoes a "goodness" test. It's designed to give a score from 1 to 200, where 1 is pure evil, and 200 is an angel in human body. Then the world is divided into 200 zones, where people can live among their own kind.
|
When Matt moved within the other zones, people scuttled out of the way when they saw the number stitched on his jacket.
It had taken more effort than usual to reach the zone he entered today. A lot of carefully constructed, believable reasons. Even more effort to ensure he could come alone. As the system grew more rigid, more entrenched in society, it was harder to get permission to leave your zone. Even for him.
The 10s ghosted back as he strode through their crowded, decayed city. He tightened the bandana he had tied around his mouth. Useful things: it prevented the higher numbers from breathing in the dirt and pollution of the lower zones. Guards - 150s, he noted - glared at the 10s as they trailed behind Matt. Okay, so he was not totally alone. But without another 195, which was the main victory. Those lower than him could be shaken easily.
"I want to speak to him alone," Matt told the guards, not looking at them as he saw the house he wanted to enter.
"Sir, that is highly dangerous-" one began to protest. Matt held up a hand until the guard fell silent.
"He will not harm me. He would not dare. Now leave me," Matt said, walking towards the crumbling brick building. It was covered in profane graffiti.
He pushed the door open and grinned at the man resting in an old armchair.
"You look like hell," he told his twin. "You don't even look like me anymore!"
Andrew grunted, and wiped his grimy hair out of his face. "Time we get started cleaning me up then, huh? I waited for you to arrive. Gotta get a good look at what I'm supposed to look like."
He looked Matt up and down, and snorted. "I hope you brought stuff to help this along."
Matt nodded to the backpack he was carrying. "Everything's here, hidden in the lining. Razors, shaving cream, the works."
When they were done, the brothers switched jackets. Andrew made an effort to stand straighter, to fit the new haircut, his clean shaven face. You had to look the part. He carefully tied Matt's bandana around his mouth. They always wore it when travelling. A win-win: the higher ups were impressed by their efforts to prevent being infected by the dirt from the low zones. And they gained a nice layer of disguise.
"We'll really be screwed if they start inking the numbers into our skin," Andrew sighed. "That's their plan, right?"
"That's the plan," Matt nodded. "Which is why we have to work faster. Get all the information we can. The others can't really do anything, trapped in their zones. We're the only ones who can actually get shit done and get information on what the upper zones are doing. We *can't* fail at this point."
"Relax, I know," Andrew said as he worked on his twin's appearance, carefully dabbing dirt smudges on Matt's face. Just like any other 10.
"I've also heard they mean to retest me," Matt said. "Move me up, because of my stellar character."
The brothers shared an identical, evil grin.
"Well, be good out there, Andy," Matt said as he settled into the armchair. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And don't screw up if they do the retest on you."
"Oh, get over yourself," Andrew rolled his eyes as he opened the door. "You're not the only one who can fake test results."
Matt snorted with laughter and waved lazily as his brother left. He'd be alright. They always were. Hell, they'd managed to keep it this up for this long, hadn't they? Who knew, maybe they could pull it off. Maybe they could actually kill the 200s. That would shake and rattle things up, alright. They had the advantage they needed: nobody even knew they were twins. The stark difference in appearance between the 10s and 195s came in handy there.
He closed his eyes for a little nap, and drifted off into the first contented sleep he'd had in months. He'd missed this old armchair.
It was good to be home again.
---------
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
|
I've heard stories of how, long ago, people of all types were allowed to live together, a place where people with a goodness score of 1 were allowed to live in the same places as people with goodness scores of 200.
Of course, this world stopped existing after a team of scientist invented the perfect way to test someones "goodness". The goodness test wasn't widely accepted, until Vladimir Putin, a dictator, discovered the test while he was browsing a website called "Facebook"(The creator of this site was later killed by a mob of Goodness Test believers after they discovered he had a goodness test of 1). He discovered this test while he was invading America, and after he somehow managed to conquer America, he made taking this Goodness Test mandatory to take for every person.
He started making the people with goodness scores under 40 into slaves, who built the walls we see now. None of this matter now, however. This all happened very long ago, and none of it matters anymore. The people who have yet to be diagnosed are kept outside the walls. "my, my..your score is a 10." "Put him in the cart, let him live with the rest of the filth.". "Next person.", I walk up to him, nervous. "Okay, just go in there, and take the test." I walk in to the rather well lit cubicle, a sharp contrast between the dark and pouring rain outside. I take the test, I walk out. "Well, aren't you lucky. You've got a score of 75. Go into that bus, and you and the other people in there will be transported over to sector 75. Enjoy the ride."
I look back at the camp one last time, before walking into the bus. After a small wait, we set off for sector 75. As we pass through sector 1, I see a barren wasteland, and our car gets attacked by the inhabitants. They threw glass bottles, and rocks at our bus, which was thankfully heavily armored. The bus-driver sped up, and we thankfully got away. To be continued, possibly.
| 2016-08-26T11:47:14
| 2016-08-26T10:59:35
| 281
| 18
|
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted]
|
Set Free:
And at the last second I saw her stepping onto the train. I realized I would never see her again. Powerless, I watched her fade.
And at the last second I saw her. Stepping onto the train I realized I would never see her again. Powerless, I watched her fade.
|
My morning toast is ready, red and full of pockmarks. Mom lays on the couch. "When did it fall?" I wonder, looking at the old family picture face down on the floorboards. Dad wouldn't have liked all this mess. Time to do some house cleaning!
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
My morning toast is ready.
Red and full of pockmarks, mom lays on the couch.
"When did it fall"? I wonder.
Looking at the old family picture.
Face down, on the floorboards: Dad.
Wouldn't have liked all this mess.
Time to do some house cleaning.
| 2015-09-23T10:11:20
| 2015-09-23T08:50:09
| 361
| 31
|
[WP] You are a chivalrous knight. As it turns out, the Evil Empire you have been fighting against is a liberal democracy with a powerless figurehead and a very edgy sense of aesthetics. The Good Kingdom you serve is really an absolute monarchy ruled by a tyrant-king with good publicity.
|
You'd think someone wearing skulls with "Evil" written on the teeth would *realize* they were the bad guys, right? I had always thought that was a trope of the traveling actor guilds, but no, here I was talking to Lord Evil himself, skull-emblazoned shirt covered in spikes signifying the death he has caused for his people, chain necklaces signifying the slavery of his people, and heavy leather boots to show off the hard work he makes them do - just as we were taught in school in the Kingdom of Light. Lord Evil commands an evil land full of darkness and suffering. Yet he told me *we* were the ones in the wrong.
"You don't know what you're doing." He said as I pointed my dagger at him, closing in in his tiny back room.
"I know enough. I walked here through the villages. I heard the screaming at night, the death marches. I passed by traveling hordes that looked like they hadn't eaten in weeks, wailing and making strange flailing motions - you could hear them from leagues away and see their tortured suffering" I replied, dodging over a desk to try to grab him.
"You came to my kingdom at a bad time-" he jumped back around the desk and pushed a chair in front of me.
I cut him off. "Oh, so you didn't have time to sweep aside your evil deeds and give me a grand welcome? I know your type. That horde would have never even been let into the Kingdom of Light looking like that - they violated all of our dress and hygiene codes. Man, or they would have been fined and exiled if they were seen inside."
"No, you don't understand. None of the people from your kingdom ever listen to us, they just jump to conclusions. Our people you saw were dressed up for our winter festival."
I had him backed into a corner now, and took the time to talk, to get him to show some remorse before he died. That's the only way for his soul to be saved. Well, that or pay the High Priest of Light 10 years of labor or equivalent gold.
"You mean you starved them on purpose to be sacrifices at your festival? There must have been two legions of people there. In the Kingdom of Light we never sacrifice more than ten people at a festival, and they're always children so it lessens the impact on our economy... It used to be two children per year but the parents complained so they are sacrificed now too, as two whole families of five people each. Our good king decreed that for us to keep us safe."
"That's terrible!" He said. I paused, noticing the regret in his voice. Maybe he was starting to listen?
"Yes, you're truly terrible to sacrifice whole villages of young adults. I can't imagine what you would have decreed, and the suffering you have caused, Lord Evil."
"Would you listen to me? I think we have a misunderstanding"
"Fine! You have two minutes." I settled in with a smug grin. "Tell me why you think a skullmaster named Lord Evil has a simple 'misunderstanding' with the Kingdom of Light."
"Our winter festival - this is a music festival, you see. The 'hordes' you saw were going there to dance! It's a celebration of personal identity, so you probably saw them dressed up. The flailing was dancing. Have you ever danced before? Or sang?"
"Dancing's only allowed in the King's court, with a golden ticket. He says only people who are in his presence are happy enough to do it. And only certain songs... My mother was taken away for singing to me in the field once - she said she made me happier than any king ever could." My eyes watered remembering her voice.
"I'm sorry to hear that." He put his hand on my shoulder and continued. "We give people a month off of work to rejuvenate their spirits in the winter. That's terrible that you can't express yourselves this way."
"It would be nice, but if our king decrees it that way, he must have a good reason. He removed days of rest a few years ago - if we're busy enough, we don't cause trouble. He's such a wise man."
"Speaking of that - he also decreed killing human beings. Why do you even do that?"
"How else are you going to ensure there is enough food left after the taxes are taken? They say one soul is enough for the gods to give us twenty rainfalls."
"Don't you use irrigation?"
"No, the old pipes rusted out a generation ago - but relying on the gods is much better. Otherwise how would the king have been able to afford his new appointment room? I can't imagine what *your* appointment room must look like."
"Uh" he gestured broadly "you're looking at it. I hardly have enough to repair the walls when mice get in."
"But it's so plain!"
"It's *fine*. It's cozy. It helps me focus."
"But where do you hide your traps?"
"The what?"
"You know, like the cage for the tiger you release to eat the people you don't like, or the sword that swings down to make sure people are bowing deeply enough. How do you enforce your decrees?"
"I don't have any of that! Maybe it would come in handy sometimes, but I'm actually powerless."
I gestured pointedly at his skull crown.
He pulled up a chair and we ended up talking for a few hours. I have a lot to think about now. Lord Evil's parents were free spirits who gave him that name. He knows how to dance - he showed me a few moves - and told me his outfit, chains and spikes, is "metal" attire to bring more soul to the dancing, or something like that. And he actually *is* powerless. He talked me through the bureaucratic process they have and it's amazing they get anything done at all. Apparently that's also why he can't change his name, though his friends call him Bernard. But since he has nothing to do, he's taking me to the winter festival to show me what he calls the best of his kingdom. Maybe it's a ruse so he can sacrifice me there? But I think it's worth it if I can hear the songs my mother used to sing me. Maybe I can learn something good from this evil land full of dancers and bureaucracy.
|
We waited as the riders of The Order of the Shade’s detachment passed along the road. I held my hand in the air to keep my men silent. The enemy’s jet-black horses, coated with their vermillion red armor, cantered along. Their knights, dressed in the same black and vermillion, with spikes on their shoulders, rode along silently, looking forward. The symbol of their empire, a red hand stamp, dripping as though with blood, plastered across their knight’s chest and on their steeds.
“Could they not look more evil?” I thought to myself, shaking my head, watching the knights canter past us.
They did not see my men in the bushes. And they did not see as I swung my arm down in a signal to fire. The tensed bows of my archers released and three of their horses dropped immediately, our pikemen, dressed in the blue and white of our empire, came in and blocked the routes of escape.
The battle itself was quick work. All told we only lost five men. Always too many. But it could’ve been worse. And we captured three of their knights, the others died in combat.
I stepped up to one of the knights, who had his hands tied behind his back, and pulled off his helmet. I was surprised when I saw his face. I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess maybe something more sinister, but I saw no malice in the face of this man.
“What’s your name, soldier?” I asked.
“Timothy,” he said and with a quick motion, tossed his long hair out of his face.
I nodded. “Search him,” I said to a couple of my bowmen, who roughly went through his armor, looking for weapons. One of them pulled out a journal and lifted it in the air, pointing it at me as though asking if I wanted it.
“Hand it here,” I said. “And take him away.”
The three Knights were tied to a tree at our camp and they sat there in the cold as my men ate and laughed by the fire.
I sat apart from my men as I ate my meal, thinking back on today's combat and how we could have executed our ambush better, how we could have lost less men. I was sitting on something uncomfortable and when I reached down I realized it was the journal of the knight, Timothy, we had searched earlier.
I flipped the journal open casually. The journal was filled with the normal longings of the soldier. Longings of home, of their wife and children, of their ambitions for when they get home. But as I began to read further and further into the book, I realized that my understanding of the Order of the Shade was very misplaced. I realized that I actually knew nothing about them outside of what I was told in The Academy and from the weekly announcements of the Holy King.
Not to trust the Holy Kings words was tantamount to treason and from a young age I was told never to trust him. But my father also said I was stubborn boy and that propaganda didn't work very well on me. And now as I read, I learned that this Order of the Shade was actually just a group of people who voted for their leaders. Their leaders weren’t selected at birth by god, like ours.
At least that’s what we were told.
I grabbed a plate of food and I walked over to the prisoners. I untied Timothy and handed him the meal. Timothy rubbed his wrists and thanked me, then began to eat. He seemed to be wary of me, as though he was trying to figure out of this was a trap.
“I assure you, Timothy, deception is not part of who I am. You can relax.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
I looked at him. He looked so innocent. I raised my hands in exasperation and asked him, “why this armor? Why this symbol?” I pointed to the bloody hand print on his chest plate.
Timothy sighed. “It’s our useless president’s idiot son who picks our uniforms. He was appointed Minister of Aesthetics by his father. He chose the name “Order of the Shade” too. The brat is only fifteen years old and for some reason thinks this…” Timothy lifted his arms up and looked at his own uniform. “Thinks this is intimidating and y’all will be too scared to fight us.” He laughed. “I don’t think it worked.”
“I’d like you and your men here to come sit by the fire with us, if you would, Timothy. I’d like my men to hear of your country and your people.”
I untied the others and walked them over to the fire where my men were still sitting and laughing, enjoying their meal and mead. When Timothy and the other two knights of The Order stepped close, they raised up quickly, the laughter stopped and shouting began. But I quieted my men, explaining to them that I had untied them and brought them here. There was grumbling, but they sat back down and began to eat, staring suspiciously at the Knights of the Order.
The flames crackled in the silence, the twisting smoke rising up and disappearing in the night sky of stars.
“Tell them, Timothy, of your society.” I said.
\_\_
And he told them. Told them of their agrarian lifestyle. How they took care of their elders after they were too old to work. Took care of the sick and the weak. Told them of the way they voted for the leadership. He told them of the weakness and inaction of their current leadership.
“Well what do you expect?” Ulrick, one of my pikemen, said with a snarl. “You cannot just all pick a leader and act like that will magically make him better than anyone else. He must be chosen from god, just as Drakkar was, our Holy King.” The men touched their foreheads at our king’s name.
Bringing up our divine leader seemed to build a wrath inside Ulrick. “And this—” Ulrick said, pointing at the three men of The Order, “this is not appropriate. These are prisoners and I don’t care to hear their drivel of their pathetic society. We have all heard from The Divine King what these men are. And what they are is heretics. Evil. They would kill every last one of us if they are given the chance. I don’t buy their story, nor their feigned innocence.”
The other men in my outfit nodded at Ulrick who stared at me venomously.
“Are you going to return them to their rightful spot, *Sir,*” Ulrick said, pointing to the tree where they were just a few minutes ago tied up.
I stood. The men were silent, and I stepped up to Ulrick, an inch from his face. I could see the fear in his eyes behind the mask of malice. He understood he stood no chance against me in single combat.
“Do it yourself, Sergeant.” I said.
I could smell the stench of Ulrick’s breath as he stayed there, clenching his jaw.
“That’s an order, Sergeant,” I said.
He turned and spit on the ground, then told two of our other pikemen, Seth and Soren, to help him. They roughly grabbed the Knights of the Order and shoved them back towards the tree and bound them tightly to the trunk.
“Landis and Soren, you are on watch tonight." I said, then looked at the others. "The rest of you put the fire out and get some sleep.”
I sat back in my tent and reread the journal again, devouring every word of this mysterious society. I was born into one of the powerful families in the kingdom and my father always had a large library where I could read of the world, at least from the books that had not been burned in the great purge.
I felt I had an open-mind and there were many things that felt wrong to me as I grew up under the heavy shadow of The Divine King. But now, I felt sick. These knights would be dragged back to the palace and sacrificed in honor of The Divine King and then burned on a steak by the Acolytes. Thinking of Timothy being subjected torture set my mind on fire. I was torn on what I should do.
But, ultimately, I already knew what I would do.
I had picked Landis and Soren because they were already completely drunk when I ordered them to have night watch. Of course, they played as though they hadn’t drunk too much, because that would lose them a day’s pay. But they were never good actors.
After I packed my equipment and snuck out of my tent, I saw them as I knew they would be—laying by the smoldering fire, snoring. I walked up to the Knights of the Order, who were shivering from their exposure to the night, the frost of their breath coming out in cadenced clouds of fog. I put my finger to my mouth to indicate for them to keep quiet.
They did so. And they stared at me as I slowly cut the ropes that bound them to the tree.
In the pitch black we walked into the forest. When we got far enough away, I lit a small torch.
“Keep quiet,” I said. “we got a long way to go tonight to get you somewhere safe.”
“And where is that you are going?” I heard Ulrick’s voice as he stepped out of the dark of the forest and into my firelight. The flames dancing in his eyes as he smiled his butter-yellow smile at me. Seth and Soren stepped out of the shadows also. They were all fully dressed for combat.
“Run,” I said to the unarmed knights.
“We can help,” Timothy said.
“I don’t need your help,” I said and unsheathed my sword.
\_\_\_
r/CataclysmicRhythmic
| 2021-02-06T16:08:32
| 2021-02-06T15:50:50
| 1,193
| 198
|
[WP] An unfathomably ancient cosmic entity drifting through infinite space passed by this weird little planet called Earth and heard over their broadcast radio signals this extremely annoying, but incredibly catchy song. It can't get the song out of its head and is going insane.
|
Nagoras was utterly defeated by the other outer gods and sent into exile. Its powers stripped, the other gods had been cruel, only Nagoras' mind remained. Unable to manifest its reality bending powers, it was nothing more than a crude black oily substance oozing through the endless void. Its power slowly regenerating. How long had it been? Millenia? Eons? The void of time continued passing. All Nagoras could do was think, and all it could think about was the synthesized drum beat.
A thin tendril morphed into a crude mouth "We're no strangers to love......" In space no one can hear you sing, the lyrics reverberated throughout Nagoras' essence. More tendrils began forming crude mouths singing their twisted melody.
"You know the rules and so do I" The wretched noise continued.
The ghastly choir never stopped wailing.
"Never gonna give..." Sang rich dulcet tones
"Give you up" The macabre melody rang out.
One day Nagoras would have its revenge, the outer gods would know true horror. They knew the rules, so did Nagoras.
|
There exist beings who have lived through so-called infinty time and again. To them crossing a vast universe is little more than a stroll between rooms. On one such stroll a noise stood out among the rest.
All that is, all that was, all that ever could be. Yul-Cephar had heard every possible sound in existence. To its surprise something new emanated from what amounted to a spinning ball of dirt, a spec that would have gone otherwise unnoticed. It was a simple tune, crude and childlish yet strangely memorable. Yul-Cephar mimicked the song for a moment then moved on, it's interest quickly waning. The noise followed unnoticed, left to the recesses of it's memory.
This universe came and went like the rest. A blip easily forgotten. Only the song remained, eternally carried by Yul-Cephar. Time and again it would resurface, louder than before. At first it only lasted a few seconds. A minor annoyance. Yet each time it returned for longer periods. Seconds became days. The same melody repeating over and over. Days became years. The same words, their meaning long lost. Years became decades. The only sound, inescapable. Decades became millennia. Nothing would make it stop. Millennia became....
All that is, all that was, all that ever could be. All became the song. Whimpering in a secluded corner of the cosmos, Yul-Cephar sang its gospel.
"Oh, I'm a gummy bear
Yeah, I'm a gummy bear
Oh, I'm a Yummy, tummy, funny, lucky gummy bear."
| 2022-10-11T11:24:00
| 2022-10-11T11:20:35
| 83
| 38
|
[WP] You are an advisor/ guidance counselor for a superpower academy. You are in charge of the students whose powers are not conducive to heroism or villainy.
|
Elise pretended to write on her notepad as Sean settled into his chair. She never quite knew what to say to this boy who was scarcely a teenager, yet had powers that far outstripped his ability to control them.
Why couldn't they have assigned her the mindreaders, or the ones with the brute strength to bring a city to its knees? Despite months of effort, nothing seemed to lift Sean's stifling depression. She sighed and tried to think of something to tell him, carefully avoiding his gaze.
"We're doing everything we can to learn more about your talent, Sean," she finally said.
"Stop calling it that," he sighed, looking at his lap.
She suddenly felt like hugging him to ease the misery on his face, making him look older than his years. But that was impossible, of course.
"When we learn to control it, focus it, it might turn out useful. Hang in there," she said.
He looked up suddenly, his eyes too bright. "Hang in there? What kind of advice is that?"
He realised too late that he was looking directly at her, but Elise didn't care. Every thought and worry slid easily from her mind, and all that remained was the need to tell him everything. His pale blue eyes were all she saw, all that mattered.
"Well, truth be told Sean, I hate these sessions," she confessed, reaching forward to take his hands. The words she had bottled for months poured effortlessly from her lips. "Do you know how hard it is to convince myself that your talent might one day be useful? That you will somehow learn to control it? Why can't you be like your brother - he's the finest superhero this institution ever produced!"
Sean's face drained of colour, his stomach dropped. He knew it would happen eventually - no matter the precautions, he always slipped up. But he'd hoped that Elise would be one of the rare ones who said good things. So few of them said good things.
"It would be better if you quit the academy and go get a job as a Regular," she said. "I think you'd be much happier. Granted, you'd still not be able to really touch or look at anyone without making things awkward, and that will always be awful. But isn't it infinitely worse here, surrounded by successful Supers?"
"I suppose so," he said softly, freeing his hands and looking at his feet.
Elise felt her mind slowly return, and she blinked in sunlight that suddenly seemed too bright.
"Sean?" she whispered, horrified at the sight of a tear trickling down his cheek. "Sean? What did I say?"
"It doesn't matter," he said softly, walking slowly from the room. He was proud of himself for not running.
"But what did I say?" Elise asked the empty room, as she began to cry herself.
|
FADE IN
INT. A SCHOOL CAFETERIA - DAY
*We see a group of a dozen or so students seated on metal folding chairs. They are facing a whiteboard at the front of the room, which is being attended by a tall, slender man in a dark suit. This is MISTER SLANT.*
**MISTER SLANT:** Alright, kids. Do you all know who I am?
*The students shrug and murmur. One young woman raises her hand. This is ELLA.*
**MISTER SLANT:** (*CONT'D*) Yes, you.
**ELLA:** You're the school guidance counselor.
**MISTER SLANT:** For lack of a better term. My name is Mister Slant, and I'm here to tell you all that you'll never amount to anything.
*There are varied reactions from the room. Some students laugh nervously, others look shocked, and a few seem entirely unaffected.*
**MISTER SLANT:** (*CONT'D*) You've all been brought here because your natural gifts are... well, basically, none of you are up to the task of being superhuman in any way.
*An overweight young man at the back of the room scoffs under his breath. This is GARY.*
**GARY:** (*Muttering*) Racist.
**MISTER SLANT:** Oh, am I, Gary? I suppose you're going to do *so much good* with your ability. What was it again?
**GARY:** (*Unintelligible muttering*)
**MISTER SLANT:** Sorry, Gary, you'll have to speak up!
**GARY:** I can imitate any smell!
**MISTER SLANT:** And how do you do that?
**GARY:** (*Shouting*) With my farts, okay?!
*Laughter erupts in the room. GARY hangs his head in shame.*
**MISTER SLANT:** Oh, hey, don't think the rest of you are anything special. Not a single one of you has an ability worth noting. That's why you're here: While the other students all get one-on-one advice about their best career path, you losers are all lumped in here, being told how you're biological failures.
*ELLA raises her hand again.*
**ELLA:** Couldn't we achieve something as everyday citizens?
**MISTER SLANT:** Nope.
**ELLA:** Why not?
**MISTER SLANT:** Due to some quirk of evolution, superhuman individuals feel a compulsion to use their abilities several times a day. It's like sleeping: You'll go insane if you don't.
**ELLA:** But...
**MISTER SLANT:** (*Interrupting*) As a result, Gary might be able to make a workplace smell pleasant, but the sound of his flatulence will *probably* attract attention. Someone would put two and two together and Gary would be revealed.
**ELLA:** Maybe people won't care!
**MISTER SLANT:** Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that. You're all losers. Even you, miss I-can-make-a-pink-dot-on-walls.
*A bell rings elsewhere in the school. The students all begin to rise from their seats.*
**MISTER SLANT:** (*CONT'D*) Alright, that's it. Get out of here, and don't bother working too hard!
*All of the students exit. After they've left, a figure shimmers into view next to MISTER SLANT. She is a slim, attractive woman with an intense gaze. This is MEDUSA.*
**MEDUSA:** What do you think?
**MISTER SLANT:** (*Sighing*) Some of them might go for it.
**MEDUSA:** We need volunteers from *somewhere*, and their genes are compatible.
*MISTER SLANT nods somberly.*
**MISTER SLANT:** War is a funny thing, particularly when nobody knows that they're fighting.
FADE OUT
| 2015-09-22T09:28:14
| 2015-09-22T08:27:48
| 96
| 24
|
[WP] Nine out of ten dentists recommend a certain brand of toothpaste. You're the one dentist and, despite constant assassination attempts, refuse to change your mind.
|
"Once you go Gleck, you never go back!" The holoscreen behind the bar flickered with images of happy kids brushing their teeth, as he heard the obnoxious jingle for the millionth time. "Nine out of ten dentists recommend Gleck - now with cleaning photons!"
Alex felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Oh, what he couldn't have given for the ability to jump over the counter and smash that screen to bits.
"Hey there", said a beautiful redhead, edging closer to him. "Is this seat taken?"
She smiled at Alex, exposing her blindlngly perfect teeth. Too perfect, if you ask him.
"Actually..." said Alex. "I'm expecting someone." His eyes involuntarily traced down the shape of her breasts protruding through her red blouse.
"Oh?" the redhead raised her eyebrow. "It's okay. Just give me a minute."
She had big, pretty eyes. Alex's hand nervously cradled the phaser in his pocket. What if this was for real? Is he really going to be paranoid forever?
"Nevermind", he said. "I think I'm being stood up."
The redhead smiled again. "Listen, I know you don't know me, but I have something to tell you."
"Let me guess, you want to do somewhere private", he felt sweat roll down his forehead. "Yeah?"
"Sure, that sounds perfect", she smiled again.
No fuck it, her teeth are too perfect. She is too perfect.
"I know you supposedly don't know me", he said, pointing at the screen. "But you know how all these dentists recommend Gleck?"
"Yeah..."
"I'm the one who fucking doesn't."
Alex pulled out his phaser, and pointed it at her ample chest. People ran out screaming. The robotender behind the bar folded back into the wall. The redhead's eyes were big. Very big.
"I know what you're up to", seethed Alex. "I have a whole fucking collection of your endoskeletons in my storage."
The redhead's mouth was agape, tears streaming from her eyes. "Wait", she cried. "Listen, this is a misunderstanding-"
"Oh you're so perfect", he cackled. "You can cry now, I bet you can fuck too. What CAN'T you do? Oh yeah, you can't make me SIGN. The FUCKING. CONTRACT."
He pulled the trigger. Redhead shuddered in surprise, then looked down at the black smoking hole in her chest.
...
"I..." she whispered. "I am the 9th dent-..."
Alex's ears didn't register any sound of a blown power supply, or whirring down circuits. Instead, dark red liquid streamed down from the hole in redhead's blouse, as her eyes looked past him. Then her head fell back.
Her body slid off the barstool and crashed to the floor with a loud thud.
The phaser fell out of Alex's shaking hand, and clanked on the floor.
"Once you go Gleck, you never go back!" That noise again. Alex's eyes slowly traveled toward the holoscreen. "EIGHT out of ten dentists recommend Gleck - now with cleaning photons!"
"Eight." he whispered breathlessly, hearing sirens at the distance. It was always eight, from the moment he entered the bar. He just heard that commercial so often, he was now hearing what he wanted to hear.
He looked at the perforated corpse of the fellow rogue dentist, splayed awkwardly under his feet.
"I'm so sorry", he said. "No wonder your teeth were perfect."
|
Virtually every inch of the Kommen Space Colony was under constant visual and audio surveillance. Cameras hummed away tirelessly, transcribing the steady rhythm of everyday life into a trillion splices of electronic data which were flashed back to homeworld, almost two light years away. Even the faintest whisper, the subtlest gaze, could be replicated into perfect hologrammetry, ready for close examination by headquarters if they so deigned.
Virtually.
Anthea had discovered the one sector which afforded her the only semblance of privacy. A maintenance tunnel, near the loading bays which led out to alien rock. Sensors had been installed, but it appeared that they had never been brought online. She had checked too, using her access rights as a junior systems programmer. Her finger had hovered above the controls which would have escalated the matter to the attention of her superiors, but a dash of defiance had pulled her away. Besides, who would have the capacity to worry about a single tunnel when there were a million other things to worry about?
And pacing there in the tunnel, pulling her issued insulator tighter around her for comfort rather than for warmth, Anthea was glad for her choice. Then, at precisely the moment they had agreed upon, a familiar face popped up around the corner.
"I... I didn't hear you coming," Anthea said.
He was more... shrunken than she remembered. He was already stooped before, hunched over as he kept pace with the sanitation robots in the canteen. But now he seemed even more folded in upon himself, like a string of sphagetti curling inwards with moisture. He met her eyes, licked his lips, then splayed his hands out.
"My, what a surprise. I did not think anyone else was here. Have... have we met before?"
"Charles, I promise. We're alone here. No one in the entire colony can hear us. I'm sure of it."
Anthea's guess was that Charles hailed from one of the early batches of employees sent to this forsaken planet. He certainly seemed old enough, though she had not been able to gain access to his files to verify that for herself.
"I see," he said, as the tension seeped from his shoulders. "You can't blame someone for being too cautious. These days..."
"But that doesn't mean we have all the time in the world too! Tell me, tell me what you promised to share!"
"Ah... About that. Did you do as as I asked? Did you check again for contaminants?"
Anthea nodded. The request had been peculiar when she first heard it - after all, everyone knew that the planet had not yet been cleared for full compatibility with human life. That meant that full contaminant protocols were in place. The air they breathed, the food they consumed, the water they imbibed, all of it had passed through a hundred scanners before they so much as came into human contact. To date, not a single alarm had been raised.
Yet, she had trusted him.
What else could she have done?
In fact, how could she *not* have trusted him? When he was the only one in the hall to have flinched when the fight broke out between those two security guards, when everyone else had instead just laughed and clapped along? When he came right up next to her, pulling her away from the rest before she could scream, telling her to keep quiet lest they realise she was not like the rest of them?
"I did, and..."
Charles smiled in the dimness. "It was your toothpaste, wasn't it? Smuggled back from earth, instead of the standard issues they provide at the pharmacy here?"
"Yes. That is the only thing in my... Diet... Which is different from everyone else's."
"And what did the results of your next scan show?"
"Nothing... I scanned it and it showed-"
"Not the toothpaste from earth, idiot. The stuff they give out. Did you scan those? Did you see the readings?"
Anthea's heart sunk at the implication. How could she not have thought of that?
"So you're saying that there's... Something in the toothpaste that they are giving us?"
A distant bell tolled, and Charles turned to leave.
"Come again in two days' time," he said. "Shift's starting, and they will get suspicious if we stay off grid for too long. But listen here, Anthea. Scan the stuff, record what you find, *but don't tell anyone*. Erase the scan logs if you have to. If they find out that you know, they'll deport you in seconds."
"They? You mean the company? But Kommen... They can't do this to us, they can't-"
Charles lifted his shirt, and where she expected to see pale flesh, there was instead the homogenous sheen of plated metal, a singular band around his midriff.
"They damn tore me in half when they realised I knew. Patched myself back, just almost. Remember, two days. And bring the results."
Then he was gone.
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2018-04-30T00:45:58
| 2018-04-29T22:42:25
| 87
| 29
|
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would.
|
I was at my favorite taco joint with my family. It was a weird tradition we had. When someone turned 21, we go to this place as a family and open the check. See how much their life is worth. It tends to make for a good laugh. My brother's was around a million. My poor cousins was only 25% of that. So here we are on my birthday. We got our plate and sat with our food. Mom passed me the check and I opened it up. $7.27 the exact price of my meal. My mouth dropped. I looked at mom and passed her the check. Said "this will cover my cost." I pushed my food away. I'm not going to die choking on this crap. I got up, walked out the door into the parking. As I walking to my car I hear the screeching of tires..
|
I cashed in my newfound fortune. $2 got me on the bus, I got out at the edge of town. I walked for a few hours and found a garage sale sign, I followed the arrows to a somewhat shabby looking hobby farm. There was a very old man sitting amongst the articles he had for sale, all of which had a more leaden appearance than the man and his dull stare. I was scrutinizing a primitive looking shovel, thinking about how much I enjoy the feel of an old tool in my hands. I heard a scatching sound. The man focused his dead stare on me and was using a stick to write 5.27 in the dirt. I gave him the rest of my Minimum. He handed me the shovel, turned and very stiffly he took a knee in front of me. I rang the shovel off the back of his head and he collapsed. I dug a hole and covered him in his earth. I fed his animals and slept in his bed. When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the warm decaying scent of spring. I began to dig up his garden.
| 2019-04-24T13:37:46
| 2019-04-24T11:25:08
| 32
| 20
|
[WP] You are the tenth generation honor guard for the immortals. As far back as pack memory goes, the immortals have provided food, shelter, and scritches. You fully expected the immortals to outlive you, as they did your mother and her mother before her. But something's wrong. The Alpha...is dying.
|
At first we couldn't quite work out what it was. There was a scent change. And my pack mate Milo, who is older and wiser, and has met many more Immortals, remembered a much older member of our Alpha's pack, who had a similar scent, and who the others gathered with to be sad, and then disappeared, never seen again.
And then behaviour changed in our shelter. The Alpha was staying home a lot, which we liked, and then regularly going a couple of times each moon, which we didn't. And every time he returned, there was a stong artificial scent which we think made him weak. We decided to guard the Alpha extra closely. Where before I wasn't allowed on the couch, the Alpha was happy to have me close, and deliver lots of extra scritches. It made us both happier. I am only one year old, but I have developed a fierce growl to help protect the Alpha.
He got better for a while - all the weird scents disappeared, and things were happier again. But a couple of moons ago the first scent returned - and this week the artificial one did too. The Immortals are sad again. So we're back to guarding extra closely.
Milo is unhappy. He remembers the older immortal. Our Alpha seems too young for this. But I can help. Not for nothing was I granted the glorious name "Princess Fizzgig Snickerdoodle, The Flayer, Destroyer of Worlds". I will help my Alpha survive through irresistable cuteness and fierce guarding.
\[This is actually my story, and the names of the pack have not been changed. The prompt resonated.\]
|
It was the Reg-scientists who first noticed something was off, even before we got a glimpse of disaster. A couple of years ago, the regulars started truly listening to their researchers when Terra grew too hot, but now they got scared of something else. The tides and the movement of the seas was changing. Something they called the Gulfstream was stopping and they were stressing about the European climate that would change more than expected. We took notice, but acted not, for it was not for the Council of Ancients to act to the needs of the Regs, but that was about to change.
My grandfather, Grand Master Odin VIII, summoned the Council in great haste. The First Immortal, the lady Luna, was dying. She seeded Earth with life, guarded it and sent out her family to the other planets. Now that she's dying however, she would take with her all that she created. My grandfather was worried, but knew not how to act and neither did the others or our masters. Eventually it was Luna herself who gave us a plan. We were to share our knowledge to help the Regs, sent them to new lands outside her influence, so they would be able to survive. The other immortals would support her and share their strengths to buy time. We hope the Regs will listen, but only time will tell if we can succesfully complete the last mission of our Order...
| 2022-11-15T16:26:19
| 2022-11-15T11:43:57
| 61
| 23
|
[WP] In vampire society, it is a capital offence to touch prey marked by a senior vampire. There is a very good reason they all shy away from the cross.
All credit to [https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/wwon7a/in\_vampire\_society\_it\_is\_a\_capital\_offence\_to/](https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/wwon7a/in_vampire_society_it_is_a_capital_offence_to/)
I just thought it'd make an interesting prompt.
|
Deliverance is not a concept. It is a judgement, an event counted down to by those who believe, and a day of reckoning for those who don't. The heathens, the nonbelievers and blasphemers, will stay stuck forever, while those who are marked with the holy symbol ascend.
*Ascension, however, is but a concept.*
When he was placed on the cross the stories told of his torture and of his resistance. They told of his will. Of the unjust punishment he faced when all he ever intended was to save his people. This is all true. Though what they didn't tell of was the time of day. I mean why would they if they had not known? There was a reason the savior was taken at night. That those iron clad non-believers waited till dark, till their target roamed. Then, they strung him up until morning and watched with fear as the sunlight crept up his body, crisping it. His crackling skin spread like a disease until he was nothing more than a withered husk. Stories say he did not scream. Hardly even flinched. I wished I was there to know for sure.
Placing his remains in a cave was a fools move; the thought surely being that they would never have to look at him again. But they did. And they were delivered soon after. I knew no man from that time, but one who had lived old enough to know what stories were true and which were not.
This one was true.
I stalked above the alley, bounding across rooftops and over stone walls. Below a woman, early twenties maybe, ran with increasing speed. I'm not sure how she saw me, but she had. Intuition maybe. It is easy to forget that mortals have some powers of their own. She hooked a quick left down another continuing maze of thin roads causing me to falter for a moment. But then I was upon her.
As I dropped down from the sky she let out a strained yelp. As if even her own voice was too scared to react. Her blued eyes wobbled in their sockets, choosing between looking to me and for any semblence of escape. There was none. I was upon her now. Slowly I drifted forward until my shadow ate hers. Her hands fumbled, shakily reaching in to her shirt and withdrawing a symbol. A holy symbol. They pulled forth a small gold cross on a chain.
"Chri- christ compels you!" she was correct, but not in the way she'd thought. Instead of approach further I grew stiff and stared, interested to see if even she knew what sort of power she now possessed.
"Christ, compels you! Go away!" her confidence grew at my sudden halt. It seemed she had some semblence of an idea.
I dropped to a knee before her. "Apologies. I did not know you to be marked." I could smell it in the air now. That musky, overpowering aroma that came from within. "And you've consumed his blood too, yes? I was a fool not to have known sooner."
I kept my eyes locked to hers as I spoke, watching on as her face grew from fear to confusion.
"I...yes I'm marked by Jesus I suppose."
"Yes. Marked by the holy one. Our lord and savior. *Our* creator." I stood once again; she flinched as I did. Out I reached my cold, undead hands and gripped the collar of her shirt, parting the buttons down until I could see the bare of her chest. There, plain as day was the symbol of Christ burned into her. Out she breathed a long, fearful sigh. I could smell that overwhelming scent on her breath once again, of his blood, of his mark. It was unmistakably sharp, stronger than normal blood, stained the air deeper too. There was no other smell like it.
Somewhere down the alleys I could hear footsteps, voices echoing through the maze of streets. I think she heard them too. She turned and parted her lips with sure intent. I would not silence her. Would not even dare touch one marked by the first of us.
Instead I leaned in close and whispered in her ear, cutting off the potential of her cry. "Would you join me in prayer?" No reply. Just those blue eyes searching for help. Her knuckles grew white from clutching the cross so hard.
"Lets begin... Bring her deliverance, holy one. Bring us forward and make us clean. Allow us your gift so we may move onto, toward greatness. Jesus hallowed be thy name. Amen."
There was a long silence in the humid summer air. I could hear her breaths grow shorter. "Now you say it."
She choked the word out: "Amen."
And just as I'd arrived, I was gone once again.
|
It had all started a long time ago. So long, most vampires didn't remember it.
But I did.
It had been a dark, dry night. Four of the most senior vampires in the world had gathered. Two vampires were not present, but precedings went along anyway. One stepped forward.
"I have changed my mark." She announced, her slender hands clasped behind her back.
The other vampires nodded.
"Show us the mark, that we might avoid those who bear it." They intoned together.
She held forth a wood peg, meant to be hammed into the ground. "This wooden stake is my mark." She announced. "Those who hold this must be left untouched, for they are my prey to feed on."
The other vampires all nodded, and each said, "Your new mark is known, those of my clan shall not touch your prey."
She stepped back and another stepped forward. "I have also changed my mark." He announced, his chest puffed out proudly.
"Show us the mark, that we might avoid those who bear it." The others replied.
He drew from his undershirt a silver pendant in a t shape. "This silver cross is my mark." He announced. "Those who wear this must be left untouched, for they are my prey."
The other vampires nodded, and repeated that none of their clans would feed off his prey.
He stepped back and there was silence.
"No one else with an announcement?" The stake vampire asked.
The others shrugged or shook their heads.
"Then we are adjourned. Farewell, vampire folk. We will spread this knowledge as far as we can to ensure other vampires know." The stake vampire said.
All the others nodded, and then the senior vampires split off, returning to their homes.
They would then start speading rumors.
"I heard." One of them told a merchant while buying silver. "That a silver cross can kill a vampire."
"Theres a rumor." Said another to a carpenter." That a wooden stake can kill a vampire. "
The news spread quickly from vampire to vampire, a river flowing down a widening path to the ocean.
Eventually, everyone knew of the new marks. But, as always, a few humans caught wind of this as well. They began to spread the news in their own ways. One went to a church, and begged the priest there to sell him ten crucifixes.
"Why so many?" The priest asked.
"Crosses," he said, nervously shifting on his feet, "have been found to kill a vampire."
This news spread even quicker. It spreak like wildfire, burning across villagers, and down the routs merchanats took in their travels, until every town was affected, and every villager had stakes and crosses they kept with their garlic.
Everyone knows how to kill vampires.
No one seems to realize that means vampires know too.
| 2022-09-05T09:15:42
| 2022-09-05T08:50:39
| 560
| 151
|
[WP] You're sitting around bored fiddling with stuff in your pocket when suddenly the text "CHEAT ACTIVATED" appears in-front of you for several seconds.
|
Johnny knew what to do next. He jumped up twice, squatted twice, leaned to the left and then the right twice, tapped a Bee, thought of the final letter of his country, and clicked the any key to start.
“The Konami Code” he thought to himself.
He decided to test his new limits, the text couldn’t have been fake. He decided to punch the solid brick wall only for it to shatter completely... his fist. He fell over on the ground, writhing in pain.
“Maybe I’ll heal fast” but in ten minutes nothing happened. He looked over to his son, playing Super Mecha Death Christ 7 (DLC, Characters, Maps not included) and saw the text “CHEAT DEACTIVATED.”
He looked over to where he was standing, sure enough there was a mirror.
“GOD DAMMIT BOBBY YOU CANT EVEN BEAT THE GAME WITHOUT CHEATS!”
“Sorry dad, I don’t want to spend 40 hours to just get a sense of pride and accomplishment”
Edit 1: Fixed Konami Code sequence
|
"What is this?" I think to myself, scratching at a place on my chin.
Suddenly the text blinks and changes: "Chin scratched at 12032017144655"
I stop suddenly and turn my head, trying to see what everyone else is doing. The room is full of people and there's a buzz of conversation everywhere. They don't seem to be bothered by anything out of the ordinary, so it must just be me.
Text Changes again: "Head rotation 155 degrees left 42 degrees up".
I reach out and the text disperses before me. I am so utterly confused. Then, all of the sudden, the Text changes again: "Raise leg 20 degrees".
I can't help but raise my leg.
I'm baffled. I try to move, but I cannot. Commands begin to come in one-after-another-after-another. Every command that happens, I end up performing without any possibility of fight.
The commands have me doing jumping-jacks and running in circles and karate-chopping people. Of course the others yell and try to stop me, but these commands seem to also give me great strength as well. I am carrying 3 people on my back as I run.
Then the Text blinks and becomes solid: "Quit Game. Are you Sure? Y".
I gulp and blackness drops over me.
| 2017-12-03T14:46:51
| 2017-12-03T11:59:01
| 64
| 24
|
[WP] Enthralled with your magical studies, you only leave your retreat every 10 days to buy supplies from a nearby town. However, you've become something of a legend. The mystical hermit who arrives every 10 years without having aged a day.
|
The town was festooned with garlands and chains, stretching across the market place, giving the little town of Juniper a sprightly and merry atmosphere. Positioned between the mountain ranges of Hyphin and Alizes, in the nook of a valley, it was a place of little consequence. Nothing of note ever happened in that sleepy town except for an event that occurred every ten years when a mysterious wizard appeared bringing medicines and magical ointments for the sick and unwell. The whole town would rejoice at his coming and treat him like a king. For almost a century, this tradition was a memorable celebration for the people. The folk begged the wizard, called Puntipunki, to stay longer but he always shook his head and declined with a warm smile. He needed to go back to the studies in the mountains. He explained that ten years for the people of the village were a mere ten days for him.
A whole generation were born, grew up and had children and grandchildren of their own over the nine times that Puntipunki visited. He brought much joy and revelry with his tricks and potions. His only request on each visit was the construction of a remarkable looking dome building at the base of the mountain.
It was once again, the big day of Puntipunki’s arrival. Mayor Larkin looked resplendent in his chosen attire. Golden medallions and metal rings, hung heavily down from his robes, glinting under the sun as he hobbled towards the paved entrance to the square. The people of the village waited while the short hand of the town clock finally heralded the arrival of their legendary visitor.
As the chimes of the tower clock rung out over the town, there was a sudden hush, as if the whole town of people took a collective breath as they waited for their guest. After a tense wait, the tip of a peaked blue hat bobbed up into view, bringing whoops and cheers from the gathered crowds and from the balconies of the small town houses.
Wizard Puntripunki strode up to the mayor who was bowing so low that his gut looked like it would touch the ground.
“You know,” said the wizard. “You don’t have to make all this fuss. I was only here ten days ago.”
The mayor laughed heartily.
“Ten days for you is a whole decade for us, dear friend. It is remarkable how you do not age. There was not grey in my hair the last time we met.”
The wizard lifted his staff and prodded the noticeable paunch of his host.
“I don’t remember there being quite so much of this either,” he said with a chuckle.
The mayor reddened. “It is true. We eat well, thanks to your magic. Come, we have so much to show you.”
Intrigued, the wizard followed the robed gentleman towards a globe shaped structure. It was situated at the bottom of Mt. Hyphin, bridging a bubbling brook.
“Ah – excellent,” Puntipunki said as he examined the smooth, wooden surface. “You followed my instructions to a T.”
Mayor Larkin puffed up his chest with pride.
“It took our carpenters a while to smooth off the edges. We finished it seven months ahead of schedule.”
Puntipunki stroked his beard and looked directly above at the midday sun. There was little shadow under the giant sphere. He had to give the townspeople credit. They had not erred on this task.
“The inside?” he asked. “Did you insulate it?”
At this, the mayor looked even more jubilant.”
“Follow me, my sire.”
They walked around the structure until they reached a wooden hatch on the ground. A young lad, bowing at the presence of the great wizard, lifted it up and immediately shaded it with a large screen.
“Very good,” said Puntipunki. “It seems that you have followed every detail.”
Together, they descended into the cool, dark earth and, stooping low, crept through a narrow tunnel until they reached a second wooden hatch which they heaved open.
The wizard smiled as he looked up. An ethereal wall of glinting emeralds, like the minerals inside a geode, embedded the walls of the interior. A gurgling sound came from the centre of the room, where a strange shaped fountain was bubbling in the centre. It was shaped like a font and through it ran the ancient, mystical waters of Mt. Aeiri.
It had taken Puntipunki a lifetime to find it, to source the waters with the magical properties to nurture new life.
It had not taken long to endear himself to the people of Juniper. A little healing and other cheap tricks had established him as a friend.
There was a problem though. It would take a century to achieve what he had planned and he did not have a century to wait. And so, Putnipunki fractured time, living on a bilateral plane, cocooned in his library of alchemy. Every ten days, ten years in the real world, he would visit the town of Juniper to see how his experiment was developing.
He had made so many sacrifices but it had all been worth it.
Puntipunki stepped up to the font and peered in.
There it was, his creation, gleaming under the refracted light of the gem stones. A small, marble like eye blinked up at him and a tail flicked back and forth.
“Ryu – my little child,” he whispered placing the new creature upon the palm of his outstretched hand. “You will wreak such beautiful wrath through the lands. You will be a new god to worship.”
He turned to the mayor.
“I shall see you in ten days.”
On his face was a dark smile and his eyes glinted like the gemstones above.
|
They all gathered to see legendary "Leonardo The Powerful" coming into town, some hoping that this near god-like being would gift them knowledge, whilst some prepared their swords for fame and glory.
In truth, he'd wandered into the crowd about an hour earlier dressed as a beggar, right under everyones nose, and had begun visiting all the stores he was interested in; a food stall, a barrel of salt (he'd be going there last), a clothing store that specialized in lizardman clothing, the bar for copious amounts of alcohol as usual, the library to return some overdue books and-
"Everyone, he must've entered the village under our noses, get searching for him!" A jovial, slightly drunk man cried out above the crowd.
Leonard looked up from slightly lewd images of demons he was looking through to see a gaggle of peasants harassing lizardmen on the off chance one of them was him. "It wouldn't be long now." Leonard was one of the three or so lizardmen in the town. He had a minute or so to escape the oncoming crowd else they would harass him non-stop, as per usual.
"There he is, I found the wizard!"
He'd tried moving quietly through alleyways but a small, shrill voiced child had noticed him slumped behind a broken cart.
Like rats they all surrounded the poor wizard and started barraging him with near endless questions, each pertaining to some mundane interests or needs of the villagers.
Bang! A puff of smoke
A loud flash appeared where the wizard once stood, leaving a strongly worded note to all those asking him questions and a sickly looking farmer standing at the back of the crowd, carcassing his tail after a swarm of peasants trampled it, finally giving in and actually hiring assistants and embracing delegation.
I have no idea if this is good but it was fun writing, so...
I like criticism so tear this apart please.
| 2018-07-19T08:30:58
| 2018-07-19T03:55:50
| 92
| 14
|
[WP][TT] You wake up, make yourself a nice cup of coffee and enjoy the view of the morning sun rising from the sea. Then you remember that your house isn't supposed to be anywhere near a sea...
Edit: Thank you all for your amazing stories!
|
Houses and debris floated by as I sipped my coffee. There had to be a way to spin this before I announced my presidential candidacy for the GOP. That group was getting crowded, fast. A helicopter from CNN buzzed my house. That fool Anderson Cooper was actually hanging out the passenger door, standing on the landing skid like a stuntman and holding out an outstretched boom microphone. I couldn't hear a damn word he was saying, but I knew what he was asking.
"This doesn't prove a damn thing!" I shouted up at him, "Global warming is still bunk!"
I went inside to get my shotgun to chase him off. By the time I returned outside the helicopter was gone but a few constituents started washing up on the shore of my property. Turned my gun around and used the butt to push them back out into the sea.
"You're out of the womb, you're not my problem! Beat it!"
I didn't have time for that shit. I had a statement to prepare. Suddenly it hit me, a way to kill two birds with one stone. I found my laptop and began to type.
*There is no conclusive evidence whatsoever that this flooding is in any way related to global warming. For all we know the seas suddenly rising 40 feet overnight is part of a natural cycle. The scientific community is very divided on this. Personally I think this is the wrath of God because he is angry congress shot down my bill to criminalize homosexual activity on a federal level.*
|
The long, yellow fingers of the sun slowly crept in through the window causing me to push my eyes shut tighter and will them away. When that failed to work, I slowly sat up and stared at my feet pressed hard onto the cold, metal floor. Rubbing my eyes I stood and stretched, feeling my back pop back into place.
Yawning, I scratched my back as the beginnings of a headache slowly eased its way into my brain. “Ugh, drank too much last night,” I said to myself as I walked over to the window.
A beautiful seascape stretched before me and I sighed with contentment. This planet really was beautiful sometimes, I thought to myself; sea, sun, and the muffled sounds of a work crew getting ready for their work day. It must be getting on with the day if work crews are already awake. Yawning again, I walked over to the door to go make myself some coffee and tried to open it; locked.
Jiggling the door handle proved this assessment, and my sleep addled brain began slowly piecing together the jigsaw puzzle of the night before. I had gone to the bar for a few drinks, met an old space-hand who had just returned from a journey to the Rotan Roundabout, traded some more drinks, and gone back to my hotel. I had passed out after looking out over the city and—
The city. Where was the city? I rushed back over to the window and saw again the beautiful seascape stretching out into infinity. My hotel room had been over-looking the city, not the ocean. I couldn’t afford an ocean front hotel room, so where the hell was I?
Turning around quickly I tripped face first onto the floor. Kicking my feet at my own stupidity, I felt my left foot connect with something soft.
“Hey! What’s the big idea?” a voice said from beyond my foot.
I rolled over onto my back and saw another man lying on the floor nearby. I had tripped over him in my rush. I looked around and saw several other people all huddled into the small room, some on cots like mine, and others merely deposited on the floor. The one I had tripped over was looking at me in anger, but his face slowly transitioned into one of confusion.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked as he pulled himself up onto his elbows.
“I could ask you the same question,” I said as I motioned around the room. The man looked around, the confusion on his face deepening, before he turned back to me.
“John,” he said extending a hand.
“Yale,” I said in response, taking his hand and shaking it.
“Where the hell are we, and how did we get here?”
I shook my head, “I don’t know. I remember having drinks with a Mr. Ralph Douglas, he had just gotten back from a trip to the—“
“Rotan Roundabout,” John finished for me, nodding his head. “Tall guy, dark hair, hook nose, real skinny?”
I’m sure my own face mirrored John’s confusion, “Yea…”
“Yea, I had drinks with him too. Though I didn’t think I got drunk enough to pass out.” John stood and glanced out the window and I saw his face go pale. He turned back towards me and whispered, “Do you know where we are?”
I shook my head no.
“Canaveral,” he said in a hushed whisper.
“The space port?” I hissed back at him. “Then that would mean—“
“That you fine gentlemen have the honor, and the privilege, of joining us on a very lucrative expedition,” a voice said from behind us.
We both turned and saw a man standing in the doorway in a captain’s uniform, and two men standing on either side of him holding blast rifles at the ready. “I am Captain Lusco, and you have the honor of sailing with me. I am introducing myself to you gentlemen now since you are awake, but I will do so again more formally after we have taken off.” He turned towards a man behind him and said, “Sergeant, please see that these men are dressed appropriately, and get them some coffee. We are civilized after all.” Then he left, taking the guards with him.
Ralph Douglas then walked in wearing his Sergeant’s uniform, as well as a blast pistol on his hip. He smiled warmly at us, but his hand hovered near the pistol, “Good morning, gents. Since you’re awake, I’ll take you to the mess where you can get acquainted with some of your fellow shipmates. We’ll be taking off once fueling has been completed.”
“Fueling, what are you talking about?” I asked, balling my fists up in confusion and fury.
Ralph smiled and stood aside to allow us to pass through the doorway, his hand never moving away from the pistol. “We’ve hired you on to fly to the Selma system for a business venture. You’ll be paid well upon your return to Earth.”
“I don’t remember being hired,” I said as he ushered us through the narrow corridors.
“I suspect that you may have some fuzzy memory about a lot of things from the night you signed on with us,” Ralph said with a laugh and a clap on my back, “But don’t worry, you’ve got a 10 year round trip to remember it all.”
----------
Check out my [subreddit](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42) for more stories
| 2015-05-28T11:16:55
| 2015-05-28T08:40:50
| 14
| 10
|
Writing Prompt: Write a story about a hero gone bad
Write a story about a hero becoming villain. Can be anyone, your own story or someone elses, and from any perspective.
|
I remember my first days as a doctor. I wore my stethoscope proudly around my neck, not realizing it advertised how much of a virgin I was in the field of medicine. I'd introduce myself as Dr. Agon and tried to smile more than smirk smugly, usually I couldn't help the smug smirk. Some people noticed my name now read Dragon, not the reason I went into medicine, but still pretty damn cool I thought.
I remember my first surgery, the first one I performed, the first one that was all mine. My mask hiding a huge smug smirk as I cut open a live human being before closing her up, everything having gone quite smoothly. It felt easy, it felt right.
Saving a life was euphoric. I felt I was more than a man. I was untouchable.
I remember the first time i relieved someone of life. It was a kid. He had cancer. I would say lung cancer but it had spread. He was more cancer than human in the end. He had been nuked and cut and he'd eaten every fucking pill there is. He was a husk. A human that had known nothing but suffering. He'd been born and 3 years later he had cancer. 3 years of life before death moved into his body. He asked me if he could sleep more. I knew he was dying. Nothing more we could do for him. But we're supposed to preserve life, never to take it. I did though. Life wasn't anything worth preserving in this kid. The parts of his blood not full of cancer cells, I filled with morphine. I could have killed 3 full grown men with what I gave him, but he was no ordinary kid. After that I felt like shit. I told the parents he'd just died in the night. He was just buried. I was the reason he was dead. I called in sick for four days. Not crying, just not doing anything, taking his life had taken away all my energy. I got over it.
My second killing was easier. A pillow over a head. He was old. 85 I think, give or take 5 years. Didn't really matter. He'd been sick for a while. He was a psychiatric patient. Wasn't going to die anytime soon. He was old and frail, his mind was froth, nothing left worth leaving, but he wasn't about to die anytime soon. His heart and lungs in good health. He'd shout all night, waking up other patients. I was the doctor on call. All the calls were for him. Give him something to sleep. Give him more. Give him more. I knew how we'd both get some sleep. And it felt good and very right. A pillow over his face. I liked how he struggled because I could feel how much power I had over his frail body. I was way bigger than him, more than him, this dying man. After he died I turned him so that he lay on his stomach. Everyone thought he'd just fallen asleep on his stomach, too frail to turn himself around in bed and suffocated. I knew better. As usual I knew more than your average idiot on the street. That smirk worming its way to my lips at the funeral. There wasn't much reason for me to be there, but it felt good to stand in a room full of ignorance. They knew nothing, only me and perhaps god if he exists, but probably only me. Only me.
It started becoming a part of me. I loved saving lives, but I needed to take them. It was my drug, my passion. I was good at it. The coroner never found or suspected a thing. Another idiot. He finished top at John Hopkins, yet was just like the other fucking idiots.
I started liking more to take young lives. Take lives that weren't meant to be taken yet. Lives that death hadn't put its mark on yet. I was moving outside the hospital. I would put cyanide into foods in cafeterias of schools. Nobody died but it was fun to be able to spread disease. A nice hobby around my art.
|
And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying,
"This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of-."
Cut off half way through, he turned to the loud thud outside the door. The second smashed the lock to pieces letting in the howling wind outside, along with a dozen legionaries and the man he knew would bring them.
"Funny, I thought you'd be a few minutes later, I hadn't done the blood and wine thing yet."
He smiled calmly.
"Jesus of Nazareth, you are under arrest for the impersonation of a prophet of God, for inciting dissension among the masses and for assaulting a tax collector among other crimes."
Bellowed one of the legionaries.
"Judus?!"
Cried Peter,
"How *could* you?"
Jesus smiled and shook his head,
"It's okay Peter, I knew this would come, I've been expecting it."
Peter turned to Jesus,
"What do you mean you've been expecting it?"
Jesus stood and put down the bread,
"I've made my choice. This is what I was sent here for, to die for your sins."
Peter stood up in protest, bringing the ire of the legionaries as a few drew blades.
"No! That doesn't even make sense! How can you even be choosing if it was what you were made by God to do?"
He blinked and opened his mouth to speak. Hesitating. He went silent, 'good point' he thought. He never really had questioned free will, it had been his gift from God for being human... but then of course he wouldn't question it if that was how he was made. If God knew everything and made everything then he made the first men knowing exactly what everyone would do, so did he really have free will? Hell, was he even saving them from his sins if this was programmed in from the beginning? He was the son of God, anything he did was what God wanted him to do and as He knew what he'd do when He made him then anything he did was the will of God. He blinked and was brought back to reality by a legionary grabbing his arm. He looked up with a small grin.
"You know. I think I've changed my mind."
He place a hand on the legionary and he convulsed. His eyes and mouth suddenly trickling a liquid that looked like wine.
"It was rude to interrupt me before I got to the blood is wine bit."
Everyone in the room suddenly cried out in shock, the rest of the legionaries drew their weapons, but hesitated before charging forward. Jesus lifted his hand and smiled devilishly, the legionaries froze... literally, as shards of ice sprung from their flesh, a few dropped their swords, or struggled, limbs breaking off. A few didn't even move an inch.
------
Three days. Three days it'd taken for him to be announced the Emperor of the Roman Empire and right now his armies of humans, angels and demons marched out to take the rest of the world. He'd see to it that once they were under his command he would right all the wrongs. Earth would become a paradise again... and anyone who resisted would die.
| 2012-08-09T03:56:30
| 2012-08-09T03:11:05
| 21
| 13
|
[WP] Everyone with the same name shares knowledge. If one Bob gets a degree in electrical engineering, then all Bob's have this knowledge readily available. Soon, everyone starts naming their kids similar names until factions form. Your parents rebelled and named you something original.
|
"No. Absolutely not. There is no way in hell," I said to the suited man at the front door.
But let me backtrack a little.
My friend John wrote his dissertation at the age of four. It was a comparative study of different techniques for emission spectroscopy in the analysis of compound materials. John waited until he was four to write his dissertation for two reasons. Reason number one was that that was how long it took him to master control of the bank of knowledge in his brain. Reason number two was that it took him until he was four to really comprehend how to grip a pencil.
John was pretty average, for someone in one of the largest factions in the world.
Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to just *know* things without having to slog through the process of learning them. Of course, it would help if my parents had been remotely prepared for the implications of naming their child Slartibartfast - but no, they just went ahead with their weird Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy reference, and didn't even consider the fact that they would have to *tell* me things like, "Hey, maybe don't stick that fork in a plug socket." And that those nuggets of wisdom should probably be phrased in a way comprehensible to someone without a Physics PhD's worth of knowledge.
Frankly, it was a wonder I made it through childhood. But somehow I did, and with the help of an armful of old school textbooks that my parents found at a worn down secondhand bookshop, I learnt just about enough to vaguely blend in with society. My dad always claimed that the fact I had to learn how to learn, how to analyse and understand for myself, would put me ahead of the rest.
I'm pretty sure my dad just talked bollocks because he felt guilty for what he'd done.
Anyway, I developed a particular interest in botany, and eventually I scraped together enough knowledge to find a low-paying job in a garden centre.
"So that's why the *Chrysanthemum boreale* is the best in its genus," finished one of the twenty-six Lilys who worked in the garden centre, as I struggled frantically to write down everything she'd just said.
Rowan number fourteen frowned. "But the rhizome's shorter than for several other species," he said. "Surely that makes it less viable for-" But he broke off.
"Less viable for...?" I prompted him.
But Rowan's face was turning pale. He staggered back, clutching onto a trellis for support, as Lily gasped. Her eyes were wide open in shock, and she sunk to the ground, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her arms curled around her stomach as though to protect herself. I turned back to Rowan to see tears glittering in his eyes.
"Guys, what's happening? Guys?"
Lily looked up at me. "It's awful... God, it's awful."
"What's awful? Talk to me!"
Her mouth opened and closed, but the only noise that came out of it was a racking sob. She curled in on herself again, a tight ball on the ground. My gut twisted, panic rising in my throat. I turned and ran down the path, back towards the indoor area of the centre. My heart was pounding, my brain moving at a hundred miles a minute.
I burst through the main entrance into the centre, and ground suddenly to a halt. It was like the scene of an accident, if the bloodshed had been Photoshopped out. People huddled together, horror etched on their faces. One woman's muffled screams were audible from the next room, while a man standing motionless near the door flinched every time she made a sound, his eyes staring blankly ahead. A small child was crying hysterically at his feet.
It took a minute for anyone to pull themselves together, but eventually I found someone who seemed just about calm enough to talk to me.
"Excuse me... What's going on?"
She looked at me with shock. "You don't know?"
"No, I... have an uncommon name."
She sighed a long, drawn out sigh. "There's been an attack."
"What? What kind of attack?"
"They had weapons I've never seen before. They blew up half of Manchester - they wanted to attract as much attention as possible. All those names watching, there's got to be hardly anyone who doesn't know about it. And they said..." Her breath hitched. "They said they're watching."
The scene was replayed on the news over and over in the days that followed. The leader of the group, of unknown name, spoke, his voice harsh and cold. "We know how to slip under your radar, how to plan without any of you knowing what to watch for. But if you try to stop us, we *will* see you coming. We have sympathisers in every major faction. We know what you know, and we see what you see. You have no choice but to yield to our control."
Those were dark days. The country had pretty much ground to a halt, afraid to leave their homes or venture outside. The police formulated countless plans, but each time, a laughing voice read it out word for word in a recording sent to any random detective's email. And each time, the contents of the recording would be leaked back to the major news centres of the world, and the cycle would begin anew.
Until, the Monday after the attack, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find a tall, earnest-looking man wearing a grey suit and a pair of thick glasses.
"Mr... Slartibartfast?"
"Yeah, that's me," I said warily.
"My name is Matthew Hannigan."
"Right."
"That's Matthew with-" he paused, "-three Ts."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, but whatever it is you're trying to sell, I'm not interested." I started to close the door, but found Matthew's - or Mattthew's - foot wedging it open.
"I'm not trying to sell you anything. Except, in a way, hope!" His eyes were wide beneath the smudged lenses.
"Mate, I don't know what kind of sales technique this is, but-"
"Listen to me! I work in the Office for National Statistics, where I have access to the census data for the whole country. I know how many people have each name out there, and yours and mine - they're unique! My parents misspelled my name on my birth certificate, see." He was talking very fast, the pitch of his voice rising with every word. "There's two more out there like us, and with your help..." He paused for breath, a smile beginning to curve his lips.
"I still don't understand what you want from me."
"With your help, we can save the world!"
"No. Absolutely not. There is no way in hell."
|
“Alexes, today we will take what’s ours!” The handsome young Alex stands atop a large pyramid of wooden crates, his voice booming across the entire marketplace. “Today, we will storm the Presidential Palace!”
*“Bring him down! Bring him down!”* The crowd around me chant at the top of their voices.
“We will not be abused anymore. We will not be slaves anymore. Today, we will take back our city for all of Alexkind!”
The crowd goes wild. I creep along the crowded marketplace, making myself as small as possible. A tide of Alexes surround me, holding various weapons the scavenged from their homes – axes, pitchforks, frying pans. I turn into a dark alley and hide.
“Lexi, over here.”
Lexi, my younger sister, scrambles into the narrow alley with me. I pull her into my arms, panting deeply. We’ve been on the run for the past two days.
“Can we rest here, brother?”
“Yes, my dear,” I say, gently patting her head. Her big, blue eyes are bloodshot. “We can stay here. But not for long, okay?”
There’s some trash beneath a poster of President Alexander. I rummage through the trash. We find a half-eaten chicken drumstick and ravenously gobble it down. It’s the best meal We’ve had in days.
The alley is plastered with colorful posters of all shapes and sizes, but they all have the same words. “Unite”, it says, “Unite for the freedom of Alexkind!” From every poster, the regal eyes of President Alexander stares into me. Silent. Judging. Like he knows my secret.
Like he knows I’m not an Alex.
It’s been two years since they killed Mom and Dad. The laws are clear as crystal – fail to name your child Alex and you die. Simple as that. I never understood why they would put themselves in such danger. They said in all of human history, there has only been two others with my name. It was a forbidden name. But whoever he or she is, they certainly haven't been of any help.
Since Mom and Dad were killed, Alexis and I have been on the run. We would definitely be killed too if President Alexander's people found us. Maybe hung on the bridge, like so many others. But I’ll never let any harm come to Lexi. They’ll take her away over my dead body.
Some of the posters have been heavily defaced. “Tyrant!” was scrawled across several posters in what appears to be blood. *“A rising tide of dissent,”* uncle Al would say with a sigh. *“These violent delights have violent ends.”*
For decades, President Alexander has used the collective intelligences of a thousand Alexes to invent new, sadistic weapons to keep the population under control. Most recently, his scientists invented a gun that uses the quantum entanglement between the minds of Alexes to inflict agonising pain on another. It's the worst form of torture possible.
The Alexes have had enough. We’re a society on the brink of civil war.
All of a sudden, it becomes deathly quiet. I look out into the marketplace. Everyone has stopped moving. Lexi freezes. Her eyes go blank. Then, with perfect coordination, they turn to face the Presidential Palace and start marching.
Lexi marches away from me. She chants, in unison with the rest of the Alexes, “All hail King Alexander! All hail King Alexander!”
I grab Lexi as she walks away from me, but her arm slips through my fingers. “No!” I shout as she blends into the march of Alexes. What's happening? Why are they behaving this way?
Then it hits me – President Alexander has taken over the mind of all the Alexes, including my sister. *Mom and Dad knew this would happen,* it dawns on me. *President Alexander has used the quantum entanglement between the brains of Alexes to take over their minds.* And only a non-Alex can stop him.
And I must save Lexi.
| 2017-04-07T09:41:35
| 2017-04-07T08:38:41
| 277
| 198
|
[WP] Reincarnation is real, unknown to all, but the gods. Most beings live out multiple lives cyclically as humans or other life-forms and are always random. But these two souls are always human, always find each other, and are always romantically exclusive upon discovery. The gods take interest.
|
“Beauty is what stops people in their tracks. No matter what they are doing, if they having the best day or worst day of their life, if they are in love, if they are in pain, they will stop to look at beauty.”
“But beauty fades, mother,” Cupid said, his eyes still burning with that youthful fire, the idealism that would never fade. “Love is like water. It can come and go, but it always there. Inside of you. You must work at beauty, obsess over it, wonder whether or not you have enough of it. Love can fill your spirit like nothing else.”
“But no person can deny beauty. People can deny love for duty, for purpose, for art. But they cannot say no to beauty.”
Cupid said nothing. Venus could get particularly nasty when pushed into a corner, and had an underrated penchant for revenge.
“We’ll see, shall we, son? Let’s have a wager about your two favorite souls in this world…”
\-
Cupid watched the man walk past the café for the umpteenth time, and the fire dimmed a little bit more inside of him. He watched the woman, the other half of the man’s soul, as she watched from the café window, bored and tired from another long day of work.
This incarnation of them would have gone like any of the other ones, save for his mother’s intrusion. It was perfect. He had started coming in to work on his sketches, and she would give him tips and hints, each of them brightening the other’s day.
But then Venus had put the model in the man’s life, and he had fallen quickly, spending all his time and money on this new beauty. The barista was pretty, but the model was a knockout, a face destined to be photographed. The man was infatuated, devoted, but not in love.
How could the man not see what was in front of him? They were made for each other, as they had always been. They were both artists, seeing beauty in the world around them, in a telephone pole, in a bicycle, in a palm tree, wondering how they could get everyone else to see what they wanted. They were both kind to a fault, their feelings hurt when others told them they were too nice, too naïve. They were both lonely, wondering if there was anyone else out there like them…
Cupid wondered if he should get involved. It was too painful to watch this, the man forced to take pictures, wear a smile just because he couldn’t look away from the model’s face. But still:
*“Love can be pushed into a corner, but the truest form, it will always find a way.”*
That is what he always believed. Sometimes, he had to shoot an arrow to save a marriage or spur a shy kid into action, but mostly, he loved to watch. Love was one of the unseen forces in the universe, along with gravity and inertia. You had to trust it.
But his trust was fading.
\-
“Maybe you’ve won, mother,” Cupid said.
“Of course I did,” Venus said, a smug smile on her face as she ruffled her son’s hair.
“I really thought they would always be together. That café is where they are supposed to fall in love.”
“There’s no supposed to, son. There’s just beauty, and the quest to obtain it.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Don’t feel bad. There’s a reason you are my son. You see, love is just how you appreciate beauty.”
*It’s more than that,* Cupid thought even as he nodded in agreement.
\-
Cupid was in the city again. A woman had fallen off the wagon and cheated with her boss, and now she was on her way home. Cupid was there to shoot an Arrow of Honesty into her heart, and hopefully make the confession go smoothly.
Then he saw the man, sitting on a bench, with the woman approaching. He lowered his bow, and tuned in to their conversation.
“Hi,” she said. “Do you remember me?”
The man looked up, and smiled, as if finally remembering his identity after a bout of amnesia. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to come back in, but I didn’t get the chance.”
“You never come in anymore. You used to come in with that girl. What was her name?”
“We broke up,” he said. “She wasn’t right for me.”
“That’s too bad,” the girl said. “What are you sketching?”
“A bluebird. I was actually just walking, and then I saw it, and it stopped me in my tracks, you know?”
“Really? Bluebirds are my favorite. Want some help? My dad used to take me bird watching when I was a kid.”
“That’s be great…”
Cupid smiled, wishing he could stick around and watch. But he turned around, and had no doubts as he did so. After all, love always finds a way. You just had to trust it.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
|
He’s fighting for his life.
His blade flickers like silver fire, moving in sweeping arcs and rapid thrusts. Hers moves like glowing lightning, so fast it leaves afterimages. Two knights - one male, one female - stand in the middle of a forest clearing.
"Surrender," he says.
“And bend the knee? Serve that tyrant?” She spits.
“He wants what’s best for the kingdom,” he says.
“He wants nothing but power. You’ve seen what he’ll do to get it.”
“The ends justify the means,” he says, but he doesn’t seem so sure. His blade drops, and so does hers.
“Do you really believe that? I know you’ve seen what he’s done to those villages.”
He grimaces. “What else is there? Where else could I go? What else could I do?”
“You could come with me,” she states quietly.
And after a moment, he does.
---
—
She’s in a sitting-room with her family, discussing her engagement.
“You can’t marry a baker,” her mother says. “He’s low-class.”
“I can and I will,” she says. “I love him.”
“Then you shall have nothing from this family. No money, no inheritance.”
She simply leaves without another word.
---
—
He’s standing aboard one of the greatest ships ever built, the wooden planks creaking beneath his feet. A pirate’s skull and crossbones fly above the deck.
“Incoming!” He cries, adjusting his eyepatch. “It’s the law!”
His crew scramble to their stations. They know their duties.
As the first wave of cannonfire comes, he looks through the telescope at the incoming navy.
He can see the captain of their flagship.
He can see her blow him a kiss.
---
—
She’s walking into a coffeeshop with plans to work on her dissertation. He comes by with her usual order before she even asks.
“Long day?” He asks.
“You know it,” she says with a grin. “I could use a little company.”
“My shift ends in five minutes.”
No work gets done, naturally.
---
—
He’s storming the compound with a fireteam of six. She’s right at his side.
“Breach!” He shouts, but then a hail of bullets blows through the door and turn his organs to mush. He collapses, streaming from a dozen wounds.
Something inside her breaks.
---
—
She’s going public with the stolen data - revealing the megacorp’s transgressions to the world.
“They won’t let you live,” he says. “I know their operations, inside and out.”
“Then turn me in,” she says. “It’s your job.”
Instead, he hands her his handgun and his multipass.
“You’ve got twenty-four hours before they find out and deactivate it,” he states. “Good luck.”
She steps close, and her lips meet his.
---
—
He’s pushing through the Empress’s flagship, blaster at the ready. It spits hot streams of plasma at its crew.
When he breaks into the engine room, he plants a bomb at the base of the reactor.
“How could you do this?” she cries over the intercoms. “I loved you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he murmurs under his breath. “But it’s for the greater good.”
And nuclear fire consumes the ship.
---
—
She’s fighting entropy in a dying universe.
And as the cold sets in and the reactors die, she holds him tight.
---
—
And when it all has ended and it all begins anew...
He awakes alone in an endless, empty plain.
Well, almost alone.
---
/r/OneMillionWords
| 2019-07-21T23:08:41
| 2019-07-21T23:04:58
| 197
| 67
|
[WP] For decades, humans have been using a mineral mined off-planet that accelerates healing. Today you discover the truth: it’s not a mineral, but a parasitic alien spore. The more damage your body sustains, the more it replaces your damaged DNA with its own.
|
######[](#dropcap)
*Just a small nick.*
There it was. The urge again. Nick wiped the sweat dripping from his brow and shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. Everything was good about this job--the benefits, the people, the pay. Everything except that goddamn ringing. The management said it was a natural consequence of Xetholav's atmospheric barrier vibrating from the the howling gales that threatened to tear their mining station apart. He didn't buy the explanation, but he wasn't about to argue with five hundred dollars a day over a little ringing in his ears. So what if he went deaf? He could use the money he'd been stashing away to hire the best doctors.
And beyond that, he hadn't been to the doctor in years. Not since he'd been hired by Aprico Industries to mine Xengaite. The mineral was even a part of their benefits package--specifically, their health benefits package. When Aprico had first discovered its healing properties, the company shot to the top of the Dow Jones in a single day. After that, it was quick work to perform testing, get FDA approvals, and go to market. Aprico was what Theranos could only dream of. And Nick had been lucky enough to get in at the ground floor; he had been hired in as a janitor at the beginning, and then when supply couldn't keep up with demand, he'd jumped at the chance to become a miner. And he'd never felt so lucky.
Nick stood up, wincing as his knee ached again. The pay was great, but he was getting too old for this shit. Xengaite had one downside: it was a weak metal that could only be mined by hand with a tin pickaxe, lest it be damaged. Machines simply weren't advanced enough to detect it, strangely enough. He set down his pickaxe. "I'm going to take a break," he shouted across the field at Reynolds. His mining partner nodded.
He hobbled over to the break room. A blast of air conditioning hit him as he parted the plastic strips. Jenkins was sitting at the back, his eyes shut as he leaned back against the wall, a Xengaite patch on his arm.
Nick plopped into a chair and grabbed a granola bar, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. Upon hearing the crinkling, Jenkins wearily opened one eye.
"Long day, huh?" Nick asked.
Jenkins grunted.
*Just a small cut.*
Nick whipped around. "Did you hear that?" He narrowed his eyes. It was that dang voice again. It had started a couple of months ago, always a whisper, and the doctors simply couldn't find anything wrong. There was no family history of schizophrenia, and he had never felt better.
"Hear what?" Jenkins asked.
"That...that voice."
Jenkins gave him a strange look, then shut his eyes again.
Nick's brows furrowed together, but he didn't ask again. He needed another dose.
He wiped his hands on his suit legs, then ambled over to the vending machine. He swiped his badge, then watched as a patch dropped from the machine. He snagged it then sat back down and tore the plastic wrapping off of it. He rolled up his right sleeve, then thought better of it. Better not to irritate the rash. Instead, he stuck the patch on his left arm.
The relief was almost immediate. A cooling sensation in his veins that seemed to suck away all the pain and aches. He felt spry again, like he was a twenty year old boy ready to take on the world. But the feeling faded just as quickly, leaving a tingly aftermath that meant the patch was still working after the initial high. Good thing too, because he was twenty years past his prime, and he was going to need all the help he could get.
He could understand why they were only allowed 3 per day. The stuff was addictive. If you weren't careful, you had something much worse than meth on your hands.
Suddenly, a scream rent the air.
***
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/i0xctn/wp_for_decades_humans_have_been_using_a_mineral/fzu6e2n/)
|
Mist launched from it’s center. Its body, adrift in the large void that is space. In death, the small insect hardened itself into a shard of life.
Flames rain from the sky’s as the sun begins to fall. The shard had remained intact even after is hasted dissent along with its fellow insects.
Before long, man had arrived at the planet. they found the insect, and ripped the shard from the planets very stones, mountains, and great seas. But with power, came there vulnerability. Some of the humans had wounds on their body’s. The shard fixed the wounds faster than their own body could, but with a price. First the humans took from us, now we take from the humans...
| 2020-07-30T20:06:28
| 2020-07-30T18:50:40
| 175
| 15
|
[WP] "Son, i need to tell you something. I am a god." "Dad, I'm 20 and studying mythology. You don't think i haven't figured that out?"
|
"I'm so glad you came home for Thanksgiving, JJ. But before everyone else arrives I'd like to get a chance to talk with you about something. Can you sit down?" The words Mama H used implied it was a polite request, but the tone of her voice struck Jule's brain like a command. She had learned to ignore Mama H's commands when she was a child, but she obeyed anyways.
She sat down at the table, which Mama H had arrayed with the good china, the real silverware, and even the antique gravy boat that for some reason she always kept locked behind glass over the mantle. "What is it Mom?"
Mama H knelt down to look Jule straight in the eyes. "JJ, you turned twenty last week. I think you are finally old enough to know the family secrets. The truth about my side of the family." As she grabbed Jule's hands, the rest of the room seemed to go dark. The only thing Jule could see were her glowing eyes floating in the darkness. "I— I am a god."
Light flowed back into the room. Jule's mouth was slightly agape and she rolled her eyes. "Mom, I know. I've known since I was a kid."
Mama H jerked back and gasped in surprise. "How could you know? I've hidden it from you for all these years."
"Mom, your name is Hera. And you're currently nine feet tall. You forgot to shrink again. And Uncle Heph gave me a talking mechanical owl for my last birthday. And despite the fact that I am a hundred pound girl I can lift a car. And —"
Hera shrunk back down to a stately six feet and smoothed her hair. "Well. If you already know then I suppose there's not much to talk about, and I have a roast oxen in the oven to baste." She turned towards the kitchen.
"Wait, Mom. If we are talking about family secrets, why don't you tell me about Mama J?"
Hera froze for a second and wiped her eyes before turning back. "Your Mama Julia was the best person in the world. She's where you get your better half. You are a lot like her, your brown hair, your green eyes, that single-minded drive you have. She was a power to be reckoned with."
As she spoke, Hera futzed around with the table. When she got to the gravy boat, she held it in her hands without speaking for a minute. Jule interrupted her reminiscing. "And you were both my biological parents?"
"Oh, I took on another form for the day. A simple thing." She set the antique back down and turned back to Jule. "When you were born, things changed. She wished for a better world for you, a normal childhood. She couldn't escape the old world, though. The entanglements kept pulling her back until she was lost."
The doorbell rang. Hera rushed to the kitchen. "That'll be Herm. He's always early. You go play hostess, I've got to finish this basting."
(For fun, I set this one in the same universe as [yesterday's prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/c_avery_m/comments/rdc990/wp_greetings_mortal_i_am_hera_queen_of_the_gods/).)
\[More at r/c_avery_m\]
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I’ve always knows my dad was… “special”
My mom had died in childbirth, so all my life it was just my dad and I. Every other kid in school had two parents, but I never felt jealous because my dad was more than enough.
In second grade, when Tommy shoved me into a locker and peed on me somehow my dad knew. When I got home he sat me down at the table and asked me if I wanted a pet. As any normal kid would be, I was ecstatic! He told me to be a good boy and I would have a new friend tomorrow.
The next day Tommy wasn’t at school, and he never showed up again. However when I got home, my dad had built a pen in the backyard, and there was a wolf in there.
“Here’s your new friend, I just made..errrmm found him this morning!”
Now normally a father would not allow their child to go anywhere near a wolf, but like I said, my dad was special. Also, for some reason I knew the wolf would never hurt me.
“What’s his name?” I asked
“His name’s Tom! What do you think?”
“I love him!”
Every day after school I would come home and play with Tom, and whenever I got bullied my dad would ask me the same question.
“Would you like a pet?”
And every time I said yes. And the next day there would be another wolf, with a similar name to my bully, out in the pen with Tom.
It took me too long to figure out the truth, but it was so absurd I didn’t believe it. No human can turn someone into a wolf right?
But then I started thinking about it. Isn’t it weird that my dad has looked the same for as long as I can remember? Also what kind of name is Loky? He always used to joke that his dad wanted to name him after a powerful god but he couldn’t spell, but I’ve never met someone with worse dyslexia than my dad. It’s almost as though he spoke a different language, but that can’t be right, I always hear him talk in English! Also what about his constant, child-like pranks? There was that one time in eighth grade when I was getting yelled at by a teacher for something someone else did, and then I caught a glimpse of my dad outside the window. The next thing I knew there was a pie flying through the open window that landed right in my teacher’s face. The security cameras didn’t see anything, and my dad never mentioned it but I definitely saw him there.
Then, when I turned 18 my school did a unit on Norse mythology, and it all hit me. The snakes that were always in the lawn, all the wolves, the amazing halloween costumes that I could’ve sworn were real.
Two years later I awakened. I was brushing my teeth as normal, and I saw my horrible bed head.
“I wish my hair was straight instead of super curly, it would make life so much easier” I said aloud to no one in particular. Then, as I was watching my hair started to straighten and drop into a perfect part.
OH MY GOD
“I wish my hair was pink and curly”
OH MY GOD
“I wish I was muscular”
OH MY GOD
“You know, I think it’s time we had that talk now” I heard the familiar voice of my dad say from right behind me.
“Dad, we’re in the middle of New York! You live in Seattle! When did you get here?”
“I just left, it’s a pretty short fly when you know what you’re doing. Anyways, son I need to tell you something. I am a god.”
“Dad I’m 20 and I’ve been studying mythology ever since my Norse mythology unit in twelfth grade. You really think I don’t know”
“Errr well uhhh” he stuttered. He clearly expected me to be surprised and overwhelmed, and my laid back manner seems to have short-circuited him.
“Why don’t you tech me how to fly, and we can forget the part where you lied about my ancestry for 20 years.” I said, raising my now purple eyebrow at him.
“Uhh sure, let me just eat some breakfast.”
“Also, can you teach me how to turn people into wolves? There’s this really annoying kid in my class that says Loki is a pushover” I said with a wicked gleam in my eye.
“Hahahahahaha, I would love to. Let’s try it out on some white supremacists first though, you need someone with a weak mind to practice on.”
————————————————-
Please let me know what you think, this is my first post here and I really want to develop my writing skills so any feedback is welcome!
| 2021-12-10T08:48:39
| 2021-12-10T08:37:29
| 231
| 142
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[WP]2000 years from now, history is misunderstood and retold as a series of myths where nations are represented as individual gods,citizens as worshipers and corporations and NGOs as demons/angels(lesser gods).Chronicle current world crises in the style of ancient myths.
-Global warming
-colonization
-World wars
-cold war
-globalization
-ISIS
-space race
-nuclear deterrence(Mutually assured destruction)
-US intervention
-US vs china
-US vs russia
-the internet (as a powerful untameable beast perhaps)
Etc
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During the winter
As blizzards extinguished the dying fires of the second great war
Worshipers and lesser gods stood on rubble and beheld the two great dragons
perched on a mighty wall.
They were the dragon of the sky,and the blood dragon.they roared and bellowed and shook the ground
Laying their claims to their own half of the world.
The blood dragon gave what little it had to its worshipers,
this made it hungry and unpleasant
many could have benefited under its ruler ship,
but it was cruel and cold and arbitrary.
The sky dragon spent its days guarding a great hoard
It traded with many of its worshipers
and demanded tribute from lesser gods
but it was indifferent to those who had nothing to spare.
Men trembled and feared for their children when they saw the dragon fires,as bright as the sun.
The dragons knew their own power
Each knew that a duel between them would reduce everything to ash and tears.
So they decided on a wager.
They would both race into the infinite space above the heavens
The one whose wings grew tired first would be proven weaker and would pay
tribute to the other.
and so the sky dragon and the blood dragon leaped
Their wings stretching from the far north to the south.
The winds created great turmoil
And the clouds parted.
They both flapped and struggled and roared as they soared towards the sun
Their snouts faced the firmament above
Their pure focus and power birthed storms never seen before
The sky dragon was powered by fear of loss of its great hoard
The blood dragon roared as it's great unfed muscles burned and strained
For days they flew above the world as all worshipers watched and hoped.
One night as the dragons flew closer to the moon.
The blood dragons wings grew tired.
And it slowly descended
The blood dragon fell to the ground,the ground shattered and it's body collapsed.
Its remains were devoured by demons
The sky dragon did not look down
It continued to fly until it reached the moon
It landed on the highest mountain and spread it's wings for the whole world to see and roared into the void.
Everything that lived beheld its victory,heralding a new age.
The age of the sky dragon.
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They say he started as a prodigy, but was turned into an outcast. The jealous King Zar took notice of his talent and his charisma, and could not dare stand have any competitors! He arrested mightly Len, but found that even the harshest prison could not break Len's spirit. So the cruel despot exiled Len from his homeland; the Savior was forced to travel to the lesser nations, disguised as a vagrant. Weaker men would have abandoned their destiny, but the desire to bring freedom to his homeland burned in Len's chest like a roaring fire!
The King's evil ways caught up with him eventually, as with all despots. The other nations of the world grew to despise the King, and waged a brutal war on him. King Zar enslaved his people and sent them to the killing fields with neither armor nor weapon. He became so obsessed with his own power that he thought himself invincible, and that would prove to be his undoing. The huddled masses rose up against the evil king, and Len returned to his homeland as their champion! They say that he personally threw the King from his throne after a mighty struggle and cast him into prison, where the worst criminals of the Homeland exacted their ultimate revenge. The other nations rejoiced to see the King's fall and immediately made peace with Len's new nation.
Some men would be content with such victory and crown themselves the new king, but not Len. He gave power back to the people! He organized them into communities and crushed the King's remaining supporters. He shared the nation's wealth with all, ushering in an era of peace and prosperity. The other nations of the world soon grew jealous of Len; their own populations sought to replicate Len's success.
Having completed his life's work in restoring freedom to the homeland, Len rested. Like all mortals, he too must fall. But the Lord so loved Len that he preserved the great leader's body in a glass tomb, where all citizens could come see his magnificence and be inspired. Some say that he still remains under the city ruins, waiting for the day when his nation needs him to be free of another tyrannical ruler, and that his Hammer and Sickle banner will one day wave again over the Homeland!
All hail LEN, founder and savior of Ooser!
----
This story is a continuation of [this other story, in which a trader seeks to sell one of Len's relics](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ummmr/wp_12000_years_in_the_future_civilizations_fell/co9tnc9).
| 2015-03-12T11:56:56
| 2015-03-12T11:15:23
| 104
| 10
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[WP] You work for a secret agency that deals with the supernatural and you just shared a dumb idea with your boss, as a joke: "Instead of keeping everything under wraps, why don't we just release all info to the public, but pretend it's a work of fiction?" You got promoted on the spot.
|
Move over Marvel, there’s a new cinematic universe on the rise.
On the back of an expansive guerrilla marketing campaign and break-neck roll-out speeds, a fresh new production company, A51, has a veritable hit on their hands. The first installment of the 20-film, multi-phase universe, *The Underground*, grossed over $2 billion—an unprecedented metric for a debut from previously unknown production company. “It truly boggles the mind,” said prominent industry veteran Isaac From, “it is indicative of a trend that has been growing in the industry for some time: the way to drive folks into theaters is to shock and awe.”
Shock and awe they have. Take, for example, the first wave of marketing tactics in support of *The Underground*. Residents in Los Angeles began posting videos of hooded individuals which appear to ooze through storm drains, around man-hole covers, and down drains into the underground of L.A. These videos quickly spread online; the most prominent of which was viewed over 100 million times before A51 took credit for the stunt.
“The technology at their disposal is revolutionary,” said Maureen Sand, founder of *The Blitz* a well-respected ad firm which specializes in guerrilla campaigns. “To be able to pull off these effects in what appears to be an uncontrolled environment is really special. It brings a level of authenticity most firms just aren’t able to match. I’ve been particularly impressed with their campaign—that seems to be happening everywhere at once—to support *Hidden Corridors*.”
The campaign referenced by Ms. Sand features individuals across global cities that appear to walk through walls. Often, it features plain-clothed civilians who are being chased by black-cloaked wraith-like creatures. Footage of the happenings often includes people trying to follow after the actors only to find that the walls remain solid. It was theorized that the effect was accomplished through well hidden projectors and holograms. That theory was debunked when footage emerged of a bystander colliding with an actor exiting a wall. After a quick apology the actor in question scrambled to their feet and ran full speed through the adjacent wall—corporeal form confirmed.
While the footage continues to grow with more frequent events reported daily, little is known about the production company, A51. After much effort, this publication was able get in contact with an Ivan Fox who is listed on company filings as the CEO of A51. Mr. Fox did not agree to meet, however he provided a written statement and permission to publish said statement:
“At A51 industries, we aim to bring the magic back to film-making. We endeavor to celebrate the super natural and foster a sense of wonder among our audience. Our stated goal is to democratize the experience of film. That is, we want to provide—free of cost—real-world, amusement-park-like experiences that are transitory but impactful. A51 exists to inject into the world that child-like wonder that occurs when an audience member sees one of our actors in the wild. The sense of awe that occurs when our audience sees a Palpan ooze into the underground in front of their home, or the feeling of “did I just see that” that an audience member feels when a Calbrian is seen flying through the sky: that is why we do what we do.”
Mr. Fox ended his statement by ensuring that we were aware that the studio’s newest film *The Calbrian* is coming out July 27, 2022.
A51 and its cinematic universe are not without critics. Ezra Cross of the Einbach Institute is an outspoken critic of the quality of the films to date. “The quality of these films is amateurish at best. Filled with shaky cam and low-budget aesthetics, the films feel more like art-house/film school productions rather than the AAA titles they bill themselves as. Despite the super natural subject matter and the, admittedly, impressive marketing campaign, the movies themselves feel pedestrian and overall lacking in the magic they promise.”
While some may feel the magic is lacking, others vehemently disagree. “This footage will be counted among the earliest unequivocal proof that magic exists and the ‘super natural’ is ‘natural’” said Professor Mary Snow of MIT. “The technology required to fake these “campaign” events does not exist. Full stop. It is my opinion that we are being shown what someone wants us to see. We must make every effort to understand these happenings and endeavor to study that which we’ve witnessed.”
So there you have it. Whether it is real-world footage or low-effort swill, one fact remains: the films are damn entertaining.
UPDATE: shortly after the publication of this story, Professor Snow was relieved of her duties at MIT. We were unable to reach her for comment.
_____________
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please subscribe to my personal sub: r/InMyLife42Archive
|
It was supposed to be a joke.
I thought my boss read Tom Clancy. After all, he wrote fiction that ended up being surprisingly close to reality. He was supposed to see the obvious pitfalls of my idea, and how quickly it could turn into “Haha just kidding… unless?”
Instead, I was pulled from my old department, and was given an empty suite in the office building, and provided a small staff. “To carry out disinformation in the guise of fiction.” Which when taken at face value is utterly laughable, but that was our mission. To take state secrets at risk of exposure and fictionalize them in order to discredit those who have legitimate suspicions of it occurring in real life. My first supervisory position, and I have to literally invent reasons to why we exist. Between my employees being leftovers from departments who don’t want them, the constant stress of ensuring we don’t make the news with a national security leak, and the fact I’ve never lead a department before, I feel like I’m in over my head. Let me tell you about my employees:
Melinda was an English major and was supposed to be a translator for an endangered language, but overseas human rights violations meant her services were no longer required. They sent her here as a consolation offer, and currently works as a novelist under my supervision. She’s got a few novels in production at the moment, and part of my job as supervisor is to help handle her numerous pen names and relationships with book producers, who aren’t told these books are state-sponsored, which makes it extremely rough when going head to head with them to convince them to print.
Anton was originally a programmer who worked in a site that may or may not exist. I officially can’t account for the last 8 months of his employment, but an off-record memo indicated he spent too much time fabricating stories on fringe message boards, and that he was lucky he could transfer to my department when his previous post wanted him fired. Now he gets paid to bullshit the same stories that he did for fun previously. I’m skeptical of his diction sometimes, but he does have a flair for the dramatic and comedic. I’ve gotten several redirects from federal law enforcement agencies to my desk, however, because each time he manages to craft a hit piece of fiction, I have to convince those agencies that no, he’s not a threat to national security, and that he gets paid by the government to do this.
“Shingles” was an army sergeant that got discharged after 2 combat tours. I asked once why he left, and he never answered. What I do know, however, is that he’s our consultant that the government points movie and video game producers to when they want to probe for obscured information to implement in their next story. He’s supposed to only use the approved materials given to us by the various branches and spin it in a way that points this at other entities, but lately I’ve had to restrain him from meetings discussing war. I don’t know what exactly went down during his time fighting, but the last couple pieces of media he’s consulted for has given some rather chilling ideas. I have to remind him to stick with what we’re allowed to release, things in danger of being discovered. The only way the world would know what happened over there would be because of him.
Gale is my other novelist, who probably has the best qualifications of the team. Dude was originally an counterintelligence agent, who almost got burned after the wrong materials got disseminated. The only reason he wasn’t fired was because he managed to clean up his mess, and he got transferred over here where his dissemination skills could come into play, and to help train the others on making sure it our stories weren’t taken at face value. He’s my second in command, and also my most problematic team member, and we’d often argue behind closed doors on how appropriate and effective our materials would be, and the risk they’d each and all take.
As for me, everything they write, talk about, and post, goes through me. I have to make sure it doesn’t come off as actually true, and whether that means making them sound more insane, changing some details, or simply improving the stories altogether, I make sure its proper disinformation. I make sure my people don’t go overboard, I have to deal with their issues with the media, I have to deflect their issues with the law on me. I’ve gotten desensitized to all the threats made to my department by the very entities giving us this information to release.
I’ve seen things you have probably already read about and wrote it off as fake or a compelling ‘what if’ scenario. I’ve approved things that would otherwise be in a news article, or on camera. I’ve released things that would normally throw me in jail. If I wasn’t doing this with a government paycheck, odds are I would be jailed or worse. The fact that this joke of a department is actually doing all this is… probably something I’d write about and release as a work of fiction.
| 2022-06-20T12:05:03
| 2022-06-20T11:50:39
| 706
| 279
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[WP] Everyone receives a letter when they turn 18 stating how they will die. You've just received your letter, and it's blank.
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To be 18 an immortal. It really wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Eve considered not opening the damned envelope at all. The matte black bringer of doom lay on the kitchen table, a retinal scanner blinking incessantly on the front.
There was a certain sick irony to it that she thought represented to state of humanity quite well. They had conquered aging, illness and even injury, in essence no one really had to die anymore.
Yet, everyone still did. Not enough space, not enough food, not enough value to a life without ending; there was a plethora of equally unreasonable explanations for why people needed to die.
How silly it seemed to have the random the wheel of fate be replaced by a an equally random but wholly intentional lottery of death.
Then again, dying young had its perks too. She gave her empty fridge a wary glance.
She could only dream of having it stocked to the brim. Cheese and wine and perhaps even chocolate.
Better yet, if she had less than a year to go, she wouldn't have to worry about the fridge at all. She'd be set for life, al 356 days of it to be exact, in one of the inner city penthouses.
To live the remainder of her days like a queen. Fattened like a pig for slaughter.
Riding her short burst of motivation, Eve grabbed the envelope and held it up to her eyes.
A second later a cheerful beep let her know the envelope was unlocked. She ignored the trembling of her fingers as she pulled the letter out.
It was perfectly white. And blank. On both sides.
She turned the letter over a few more times just to be sure, and even titled it under the kitchen lamp, as perhaps the ink might have been faded.
Nope. The paper was just blank.
She'd seen plenty of letters on the internet to know a date and cause of death should have been printed in bold black lettering on the front.
None of them had been blanks.
Her insides felt cold and knotted, she thought she hadn't wanted to know, but somehow this was even worse.
She blinked vigorously, hoping the letters would somehow appear.
It must have been an error. And what about her allowance?
That last thought spurred her to action. She took her long green coat from the rack and stepped out into the cold January morning.
The 5 minute walk to the ATM seemed to take an eternity.
The machine was covered frost, untouched at least since last evening. Below the card slot was the much less frequently used letter slot.
The slot that everyone only needed to use once in their lifetime.
She took out her letter and fed it into the machine. She briefly wondered whether she'd put it in right side up.
Green text appeared on the scratched and battered display.
[Hello, Eve. Thank you for registering your departure form. Your daily allowance until departure will be: € 0]
[If you have any questions, please ask them now. Articulate clearly.]
She blinked, and cleared her throat.
"There must be a mistake. How, how will I die?" Her voice more scared than she had intended.
The screen stayed empty for a few seconds before printing the words she would carry with her for the rest of her immortal life.
[By your own hand and at the time of your own choosing.]
[Your death is free. Your life is not.]
With that the money slot started buzzing and clicking. After a few seconds the slot opened.
No money came out, instead a small black card with stark white lettering.
It read:
'Tomorrow, 19:08. The corner of Clifton and Pechkham. A man in black coat, long blond hair. Oakfield backpack. Death by stabbing.'
The ATM buzzed one more time.
A sleek silver knife clattered to the ground.
EDIT: spelling 'n stuff
|
Daniel’s father never read his letter. Neither had his grandfather, or anyone (in recent memory) in the Murphy line. *An act of defiance*, his father told him, *They can only control your life as much as you let them*. Which was true, Daniel thought. He remembered the fears of his friends; Mick always tensed when his mother swam. Alicia’s heart skipped a beat whenever her sister coughed. Dan was free from those fears, but the uncertainty of everything always remained in the edges of his mind. He could never accept willful ignorance as easily as the rest of the Murphys.
He didn’t believe he could stop it, nor did he want to try. After all, the absolute truth of the letters was one of the first realizations after they became standardized. *Belmonte’s Journal*, a standard read in high schools across the country, told the account of a young man and his wife who went to live in isolation after learning they would both perish in a car crash. The couple started a family, living happily for years. The last pages of the journal tells of his daughter’s illness and Belmonte’s fear she would die without medical treatment. The afterword, written by his daughter when she was of age, explained her parents had been struck while following a road to the nearest town. The point of it all, really, was that the letters were always right. They never made mistakes. You could never avoid your fate.
Being prepared, though, was something you could do. At the start that was the point of the letters. Why would you waste money on medication and treatment if the illness would claim you anyways? Those with long lives could begin to save extra money for retirement. Those who were doomed to die young could live freely for a few short years, not worrying about future career plans. In a way, Daniel thought, it was also freeing to know. A different sort of freedom, yes, but one that existed without uncertainty. If his aunt, Alice, had known she would die during childbirth then perhaps the loss wouldn’t have cut the family so deeply. Perhaps Peter could have known his mother through a letter, or tape, instead of anecdotally.
Against the wishes of his family, Daniel felt more compelled to open the letter sitting before him than to burn it. His fate was sealed, either way. Even to keep the letter would be some small victory. Burning the letter, not knowing his fate, it didn’t change anything. His cause of death was already listed in some government database. His mother already knew that there was a heart attack sitting in her future.That hadn’t changed her life, bar a few healthier food choices.
Daniel stared at the letter in front of him. He had to make a choice soon, his father would be home from work in an hour and then it would be near impossible to look. If he opened the envelope from the side, Dan figured his crude art skills could patch the seal with minimal damage. His real letter he could press inside some ugly old book, slip a blank piece of paper into the envelope and no one would be any wiser.
With a delicate slice along the seal, Dan lifted the flap of the envelope. He hadn’t expected his hands to shake this much. He supposed the nerves could be excused, as he hadn’t expected to know his fate at all. Holding his breath he unfolded the paper; every fear, every instant of danger (no matter how vague) began to rush through his mind. *What if I find out I die soon,* a new fear crossed his mind, *I could never keep that from Mom and* -
The paper was blank. No cause of death. No name. No date. *Nothing*
“What the fuck,” Daniel whispered to himself. He turned the paper over again, as if the writing would suddenly appear. He tore open the rest of the envelope, no longer minding his plans to reseal it. On some wild hope Daniel thought there might have been another paper, perhaps it was stuck or folded. He must’ve missed it the first time. That was the clearly reasonable explanation.
“Ahem.” Daniel’s head snapped up, he recoiled backwards. His father stood in the door, Dan’s birthday gift tucked under one arm and a briefcase in the other.
*Home early*, Daniel cursed, *For my birthday.* The pair’s eyes were both drawn to the mess on the table, the torn envelope and ripped paper. “Dad,” Daniel started, preparing to grovel as he hadn’t done since he was a kid, “I... I can explain.” He knew he could not.
“Oh Daniel...” his father’s frown showed the lines of his face more clearly. “Danny. You shouldn’t have done that.”
| 2017-01-17T15:47:45
| 2017-01-17T15:11:53
| 31
| 22
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[WP] A hero and villain are roommates and have to keep making excuses for why they need to unexpectedly go out so often. Neither knows the other is their nemesis.
|
*ARCH ROOMMATES IS FILMED IN FRONT OF A LIVE STUDIO AUDIENCE*
----------
INT. GARRETT AND DAVES' APARTMENT - DAY
FADE IN
Garrett enters, hauling a bag of groceries in one hand.
GARRETT: Dave? I'm back from the grocery store!
Dave is lying on the couch watching cable news. He sits up.
DAVE: Wait a minute. You were gone for four hours.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
Garrett sets the grocery bag on the counter. He looks around in a panic.
GARRET: Uh... No express lanes!
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
DAVE: Huh. Did you get what we need?
Garrett pulls out the groceries one by one.
GARRETT: Let's see. Celery... Eggs... Rye bread...
He pulls out what looks like a hand-held laser gun and then quickly hides it back in the bag.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
DAVE: Wait, what was that?
GARRETT: What? What are you talking about?
DAVE: The thing in your hand.
GARRETT: Oh, this thing? (pulls out laser gun) It's a uh... price checker.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
DAVE: Huh. Does it work?
GARRETT: Oh yeah. Oh yeah.
Garrett lowers the laser gun behind the counter. There's a flash of red light and a ZAP.
GARRETT (wincing): Ooh! Ooh! My foot!
DAVE: What?! What about your foot?!
GARRETT (still in pain): It's... it's four ninety-nine.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
DAVE: Your foot is four ninety-nine?
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
GARRETT: I'd better take this back.
He puts the laser gun back in the bag. He looks at the TV.
GARRETT: So, more cable news huh?
DAVE: Yeah. No games on.
Dave looks back at the TV and leans in with surprise. Helicopter footage is covering a person hanging from the top of a building. Dave hops off the couch and starts putting on his jacket and shoes.
GARRETT: Well where are you off to all of the sudden?
DAVE: You... (searching) ...forgot the milk!
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
GARRETT: Oh, dang. You're right.
DAVE (walking out): Time to save the day.
Garrett rolls his eyes.
GARRETT: It's only milk.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
GARRETT: Anyways, I'll just be here, making... plans.
Garrett laughs maniacally.
DAVE: Maybe include seeing a doctor about that laugh.
*LONG AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
Garrett puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head at Dave.
FADE OUT
|
Just as I put down my groceries, my SatPhone beeps. *Captain, we need your help! Doctor Doom is threatening to destroy the city tower with his death ray. Please help us!*
I groan. I’ve just gotten back to the house – how on earth am I going to explain to my roommate that I need to go out again?
Good old Dominic is probably a little suspicious already, what with my random disappearances, my pretend job at a non-existent newspaper and a 2% body fat percentage while eating seven pizzas everyday for breakfast.
*Thank god he’s so gullible.* What would a superhero be without her secret identity? Probably rich, successful, famous and adored by the world. But who wants *that*, right?
I climb seven stories up to the attic where Dominic works. We have quite a big house, and I never understood how the rent is so cheap. Dominic found it when we were friends in college. He just got lucky, I guess.
I open the door to the attic. Dominic works on a giant, metallic cylinder with dozens of lenses and levers. The end of the cylinder tapers off into an obsidian cone, which points directly out of the window at the city tower. On the cylinder is a sticker of a giant skull, with the words “DEATH” printed beside it in giant, block letters.
Dominic stares at me. I stare back.
“Dom!” I say in a totally casual high-pitch voice. “Your telescope looks great!”
*God, Dominic is so smart. He’s one of the best telescope engineer in the country, I’ve heard.*
“Uhhh,” he says. “What’s up?”
“I need to go… dry-clean… my rug.”
“Didn’t you do that last week?”
“Oh. I have many rugs,” I’m in the zone. “You know, cold floors.”
“Uh, okay cool.” Dominic flips several switches on his telescope. It whirrs to life in a high-pitched whine, shattering several glasses on the table.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck!” I quickly run down the stairs before he can respond.
*Another crisis averted,* I think to myself. *I’m really good at this.*
| 2017-04-03T11:16:16
| 2017-04-03T10:38:23
| 479
| 35
|
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :)
|
"Unclean!" the disembodied voice bellowed waking me up for the third fucking time that night. That's it. I'd had enough. I slip out of bed and got dressed. I was thirsty anyway. Walking toward the door I looked at the wall dripping with blood and puss.
"Unfucking real..." I muttered. Pulling my phone from my pocket I snapped a quick photo. Walking into the hallway I headed to the elevator. Damn thing was taking forever. When the doors finally opened I looked down to see a woman, wet and smelling like a swamp dragging herself along the floor leaving a trail of blood and God-knows-what.
"Fuck this," I said walking away just before her hand reached my ankle. I stopped and snapped another picture of the woman on the floor. Walking down the stairs I was getting pretty pissed off at all of these interruptions. I was just passing the pool when I stopped. The water had turned to blood.
I snapped another picture.
As I walked down the corridor to the lobby, a man with a chainsaw sprung out of the vending area, he pulled the rip cord and started flailing the chainsaw in my general direction.
"Hey...HEY!" I yelled. He killed the motor. "It is three o'clock in the goddamn morning, asshole. This is a hotel. Do you honestly feel like that shit can't wait until morning?"
"Uhh...sorry I just..."
"You just what? You're standing in a hotel jumping out with a chainsaw at random strangers at three o'clock in the morning? Does that fucking sound normal to you? Go the fuck to sleep." I snapped a picture as I walked away. The stranger seemed confused and a little embarrassed.
Walking to the front lobby I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Slapping my rewards card on the counter I looked at the woman doing the night audit.
"I'm a damn Diamond member. And I can't sleep in this place with all of this bullshit..."
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. What seems to be the problem?"
Swiping the screen on my phone I turn it to her.
"Oozing walls, swamp chicks, pools of blood and some asshole with a chainsaw? Are you fucking kidding me? Is this Detroit?"
"Well, I'm sorry sir, it is our desire to ensure you have the most comfortable stay possible..." her voice was somewhat ominous. I gave zero fucks.
"I want my room comped, I want an upgrade, I want another complimentary bottled water and I want some fucking quiet for the rest of the night. Can you do that or do I have to call member services?"
"Oh, yes sir, we would be happy to make all of your dreams come true..."
Swiping the phone again I called the member services number.
"Yeah, I'm at one of your hotels and there is an obnoxious amount of creepy shit going on. Pool is filled with blood, there's a dude with a chainsaw, my wall is oozing blood and this lady at the front desk is talking in a weird ass tone that seems to imply pending doom...yeah, how'd you guess where...hold on..."
I handed the front desk clerk the phone. "They want to talk to you."
Suddenly the sullen woman's eyes softened and she gulped a bit as she took the phone.
"...Hello? Well, yes, uhh, Julia. No but I...right but...okay." She handed the phone back to me and looked contrite.
"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir. I'm upgrading you to a suite for the remainder of your stay, at no charge of course. And I guarantee that there will be no disturbances from here on out. I'll have your complimentary water brought up to the room and I'll be giving you double rewards points for your stay."
"Well, thanks, what the hell did member services say you to?"
She looked uneasy and then finally spoke. "They said to cut the theatrical bullshit or they'd cut our franchise..."
|
The bronze dagger scraped against the cement floor with rhythmic scratches, tuned to The Slasher's lopsided gait. A red grin cut across his mask, painted on until it hit the the cracked bottom quarter, where it spilled into a real lip-less smile.
The stage was set. The night, perfect. A full moon dangled in a cloudless sky, his spotlight trained on him. A brisk breeze blew south to north, a wind that could carry a scream all the way to the heavens itself. And his characters, they were some of the best he ever had. A twelve year old boy with glassy eyes and panting breath, scratching against the alley dead end. A fourteen year old girl huddled in a corner, her knee to her chest, as she stuttered in sobbing coughs. And of course, the hero. A boy of fifteen that stood trembling over his friends, a pocket knife in front of him quivering as much as his lips.
The alley dead end held the sour stench of garbage long since rotted. Insects scattered through the a black trash bags piled along the sides of the walls.
"And the hero reveals himself." The Slasher trembled in excitement, increasing the pace of his blade-against-cement metronome. He could hardly contain himself.
The hero swallowed and brought up his puny knife.
The Slasher's eyes bulged through his mask. His charred cheeks stretched and his mouth opened. A chuckle, like the sound of choking man, escaped his throat. This was the hero he had been looking for, a man to challenge monsters.
"So hero," he said between his laughs. "Your stage is ready. The damsel is in tears. The dam is equally helpless. Everyone is at the edge of their seats and even God is wondering--what does the hero do?"
The hero opened his mouth and swallowed breath. "Guys," he choked out. "Listen to me right now, when the time comes, make a break for it."
His two friends caught his eyes and stopped. It felt like time paused with them. The girl sniffed back tears and the boy shook his head in a sharp twitch. This was the power of the hero. Because in that instant, The Slasher no longer existed.
"No," the boy whispered. "We're a family."
"Like hell we are." The hero's muscles tensed and his knife straightened toward The Slasher. "Orphans have no family. We just happened to find each other when we needed to the most. It could've been anyone and it wouldn't have mattered."
"That's not true," the girl said with trembled words. "You know it's not."
The hero coughed out a cry and inhaled. "You fucking brats!" he screamed at them, startling them. "I needed someone to watch my back when I stole, I needed someone to distract the guards, I needed someone to hide the food when I stole it. You think it had to be you guys? It could've literally been anyone. I don't give a fuck about any of you!"
The Slasher's heart skipped a beat. The hero he had prayed for had arrived and his screams would be melody unlike anything a Beethoven or Bach could compose. A symphony for God Himself.
"Hero," he said, "How kind, how brave, how--"
His words caught because the hero charged him, the silver of his knife gleaming beneath the moonlight, the tears in his eyes glistening as it fell behind him.
The Slasher heaved laughter out of himself. The humor was like a spell, a beautiful and uncontrollable spell. He swung and cut the hero. No hero had ever won, no damsel or dam ever saved, and this would not be the exception.
| 2017-05-05T07:31:12
| 2017-05-05T06:07:15
| 627
| 21
|
[WP] To Elizabeth Brown, the mechanical workings of space craft seemed to just speak to her. Watching her tinker, fix, and upgrade everything from the small barges to the hulking capital class ships was akin to watching a virtuoso violinist or a master painter. Her masterpiece came in one day.
|
To own a ship fixed or upgraded by Elizabeth Brown was the mark of a skilled pilot, as nothing less would suffice for the works of art she produced. The demand for her services was immense and the Admiralty prized her greatly despite her many eccentricities - the expensive, archaic blueprints she sought after were hers; the remarkably old instruments and gears, far outdated, were at her fingertips. The Admiralty was more than happy to pay for it all.
For she was not just a mechanic. She was an *artist*. The many apprentices who watched her work and enjoyed her tutelage swore there was something otherwordly in the way she approached the ships - as if she could feel them, talk to them. She knew exactly where to look, what to do, how to save space or get that extra bit of power from a system. What was perhaps more interesting, the apprentices went on to say, is that despite her renown and fame, she was just as humble and amicable as they were.
When Elizabeth announced she'd be unveiling what she deemed to be her "masterpiece", it came as no surprise that everyone with any interest in spacecraft craved to be there, to see it. But, as things are, it was reserved for the top dogs, the influential politicians, the generals though a small contingent to lowly mechanics was there at Elizabeth's behest.
The day came. The ship was ready. Elizabeth came in, sharply dressed in a surprisingly clean vest and trousers. She wore no makeup, she never did, so the lines around her eyes and the grey streaks in her hair betrayed her age, much to the surprise of those who've never seen her before. But none could deny the elegance - if not downright *magnificence* \- with which she carried herself.
The moment came. A grand curtain was uncovered. And the audience was shocked.
The ship was positively ugly.
The confusion caused a murmur, but Elizabeth did not let up and soon, the muttering turned to amazement. It was function and efficiency made manifest. The fighter-sized ship had 4 thrusters on each corner allowing for unparalleled maneuvering. A never-before-seen interface allowed pilots to fire the twin-linked cannons with perfect accuracy and no delay at all. The pilot seat was warmed and had a gravitationally stabilized coffee holder. The number of support sub-systems was deemed impossible for a ship that size - there was simply no way she could fit so much in, the wiring alone... and yet, there it was.
The presentation was abruptly cut short when Elizabeth fainted near the end of the grand unveiling. She was immediately ushered to the medical wing where the best doctors at hand examined her and were shocked by the large surgical scar on her chest. Further inspections revealed something ghastly.
Her heart... it was missing. In its place was a sophisticated cybernetic one - available to only the most affluent. But her records showed no surgeries, puzzling everyone as to when this happened.
Elizabeth spent some time in ICU but soon made a full recovery. Naturally, as soon as she was cleared, investigations began, but Elizabeth showed no distress or surprise. She merely smiled gracefully and took the investigators to the ship - her ship. Her *masterpiece*.
"I understand that you are confused by everything that has transpired," she said warmly, meeting the confused looks of the men and women she led.
"But you must understand that I poured everything into this ship. My ideas. My soul. And even..." she continued as she carefully removed a small panel near the cockpit.
"...my heart."
Gasps filled the ship as all realized the accuracy of her statement. In the small opening was a reinforced, cybernetically enhanced organ jar hooked to a number of revolutionary man-machine interfaces, all linked to a human heart. The heart of Elizabeth Brown.
The ship was unconditionally practical, impossibly advanced, and downright ugly.
And it was *magnificent*.
|
[Part 1 of 2]
“A ship came in?” Henderson tightened his grip on the shell shaped communicator in his hands, staring out at the massive ship that was currently waiting to enter their docking bay. The ship coated in the silver and gold colors of the United Molia division. “We didn’t order a ship. Did you check it for soldiers? I don’t want a trojan horse situation.”
It would be a shame to turn down a ship of that magnitude, Henderson knew that better than anyone. The Molia division was small, only having a joint force of around five thousand with very limited fire power. The only thing keeping them alive was the brilliant Elizabeth Brown. A woman that was the envy of planets galaxy wide. Henderson called her the maestro, and for excellent reason. Her inventions kept this colony of one hundred thousand people alive. Without her, their weaponry would have already been overpowered.
Silence fell on the other side of the line, Henderson tapping his fingers against his desk, waiting for a response. Ship scans did often take a few minutes to perform, but this was getting ridiculous. “Is there anybody on the ship? I’m not giving it clearance until I know what we are dealing with, soldier.”
Henderson’s tapping grew quicker as he watched the ship move, defying his orders as it approached the dock, parking itself right in the middle of their shipyard. If this ship was hostile, they would all be dead. “WHO GAVE YOU CLEARENCE? ANSWER ME.”
“Relax sir, we found an Id tag. Elizabeth is on the ship.” When those words reached his ears, he felt an instant breeze of relief. “Sorry, was going to tell you earlier, but I thought you would have seen it on your monitor. You aren’t still using that tacky old communicator, are you?” The voice had an air of easiness to it, caring little about the correct way to speak to someone higher in the chain of command.
“You know damn well I hate those monitors. They pick up too many false flags. When Elizabeth makes the upgrades to them, I’ll start using mine.” Henderson glanced at the dust covered monitor on his desk, flicking it on, checking the name of the soldier he was talking to. “Oh, and Max. You’re on cleaning duties in the kitchen this week. I shouldn’t need to tell you how to talk to your commander.”
Silence again came from the communicator. Only to be followed by a string of muffled curses before Max shifted closer to his device. “Got it sir, sorry.” Another curse followed before the communication line went down. Max cursing himself for not hanging up the line before Henderson checked.
Henderson smirked, always enjoying putting a cocky soldier in their place. Heading down to the dock, Henderson found his soldiers standing before the ship. Up close, its true beauty was revealed. A thick layer of aluminum made up the skin of the ship, with a few patches of what Henderson suspected were titanium covering some of the more sensitive areas. Normally this would throw off the balance of a ship and yet it appeared to float effortlessly from the little demonstration she gave.
“Why is no one checking out its interior?” Henderson asked the group, only for a familiar-sounding voice to answer.
“She wants to speak to you first, says it’s important. You aren’t dating our brilliant mechanic, are you?” Max quipped, only for Henderson to raise two fingers towards him, threatening him with two weeks of cleaning. “Ah, forget I said anything.” Thankfully for Max, the ship had extended its ramp, distracting Henderson from issuing more punishments.
Heading up the ramp, an array of dazzling lights greeted Henderson. The lights on the floor motioning him through the ship with their golden aura, directing him where to go. “Elizabeth, are you in here?” Henderson asked, while the ramp closed behind him.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/shtpsx/wp_to_elizabeth_brown_the_mechanical_workings_of/hv4tjxw/)
| 2022-02-01T07:07:14
| 2022-02-01T06:07:10
| 483
| 89
|
[WP] Mr. Rogers was actually the second coming of Jesus Christ, but nobody realized it.
|
He sat behind a mirror. The light illuminating the wrinkles on his face.
**You have done well**
One more show he thought. One more.
How long had he been trying to convey the message? The desire burning inside to come out and say, "God is real. I am here to speak on his behalf, and I have a message for you." That message though would be lost on those with years of memories, years of experience, trials and conflict, and personalities set in stone. He knew the truth. He would be labeled mentally ill and the show cancelled. However it was not important they believed. It was only important they lived their life being good to each other.
How do I explain the impossible to prove.
**They need not believe**
The weight of his role sat heavy in his stomach. He all at once wanted to run, to cry, and to scream, "Listen all we need is to be a little nicer to each other. Take time to understand. Take a moment to share with those around you. Help those that cannot do for themselves." How do you teach those that will not listen though.
The red one. I will wear the red one today.
He removed the tissue from around his neck. His makeup was done and it was time for the show to start. He stood up, and wiped the warm tears from his cheeks. When had he started crying. Was it frustration or was it love that had caused these tears.
**I am proud of you**
I will teach those that will listen.
He walked to the dark door way and waited for his cue. He was about to speak to the ones that would listen. The ones filled with love; hearts still soft. The pressure built deep within him and began to rise.
One more, I just need to teach one more.
**One by one, and two by two**
He heard the music start. The lights illuminated the facade of his front porch.
It is a simple message. Wont you be my neighbor?
**It is a good message my son**
|
Whoa, did you see the paper today?
**No, because nobody reads the paper anymore. But I know. I saw the news on the phone, aka today's paper. Chester Davidson died.**
I know, right? It's like just last week he was named Mister Rogers, and he was a surefire lock to beat Mister Cleveland for this year's title of Mister Ohio.
**Yeah, well, us folk in Rogers, Ohio get lost in the shuffle. Only 237 people live here.**
236, now that Chester's gone.
**True. So why did he get nailed to that cross, anyways?**
He said it was bound to happen again.
**What does that mean?**
No idea. What I do know is that ever since [the feds raided the flea market in an immigration sting last year](http://www.post-gazette.com/local/west/2014/08/05/Federal-agents-seize-counterfeit-items-at-Ohio-flea-market/stories/201408050192), you can't find Jesus in Rogers. Hey, that's funny! 'Cause there's also bible Jesus, too.
**Go home, Stu.**
OK. Night, other Stu.
**I wish I had a different name.**
| 2015-08-02T23:00:37
| 2015-08-02T22:31:03
| 1,117
| 29
|
[WP] You jokingly solve a riddle which you pretend is a huge discovery, but then you wake up from the simulation that humanity has been put in.
|
(authors note: Hi! I've written pretty regularly since January, so I'm not new to this, but at the same time if a work of mine could use improvement, then it could use improvement. I welcome all constructive criticism :) If something needs work, just tell me, at the minimum, two things: what needs work, and what I can do to fix it. Thanks! :)
--
“So it’s a rabbit that also created the universe, get it?” Josh grinned as he finished explaining the riddle to Marcia, the cute Safeway check-out girl who he’d been trying to court for the past month. They were on the bus, with Josh heading to the library to get some books, and Maria to work.
See, Josh had been browsing the Internet late last night, and had stumbled upon a riddle. A very odd riddle. It involved the universe (as a broad concept), logic, and physics, along with surrealist poetry. He read it over, blinked, thought about it, and a few minutes later, had the answer. I mean, it was obvious. The answer to the riddle was that the reason for everything was a rabbit that created the universe. On the one hand, cool, but on the other, ‘big fucking deal’.
So Josh went to sleep, and woke up. When he woke up, he felt weird, like something wasn’t right, but he figured it was just morning jitters and shrugged it off. He hopped onto the bus, spotted Maria, moved on over, started talking, and long story short, there they were.
“Oh! That’s really cool!” Maria said, laughing good-heartedly with a warm and infectious smile on her face. The smile on Josh’s face widened more as he saw that he had amused her. It hadn’t really been anything, but Josh played it up as this huge, herculean effort - trying to impress her, right. And it was working! But...something wasn’t right. It was like...like the color was all wrong. As in, in the air, in his very perception, even. It was like a television signal going all wonky. Everything in his line of sight began rapidly flickering in and out of various shades of colours. At first, this was so startling, that Josh didn’t really notice that everything had frozen. Everything was completely still, except for him. Maria. The other people on the bus. The bus itself. Everything and everyone outside - even a soccer ball kicked on the sidewalk as the bus passed by was frozen in mid-air. When Josh finally noticed this, his eyes went wide and his heart started to pound. What the fuck was happening?
Josh started to get up, to try to explore where he was to figure something out, when suddenly everything went dark. As in, knocked the fuck out dark.
It seemed to Josh like just a moment had passed when he opened his eyes. He blinked them, groggily, as he moved them around, trying to figure out where he was. He saw a high, wide dark ceiling, with various lights dotting the whole expanse of it in uniform parallel rows.
Trying to sit up, his muscles reacted sharply. He winced, and eased the speed of his movement, lowering it. As he sat up more slowly, he carefully looked around himself. He was in a huge - as in, huge - black room. It was more like a warehouse. Surrounding him, in uniform, parallel rows - like the lights in the ceiling - were other beds, with other people in them. They were of all manner of variations of humanity - old people, young people, men, women, all sorts of races, and more. They had connected to them all sorts of wires and plugs, and what was common to all of them, down to the last one, was that they all appeared to be in a calm sleep.
Josh started to panic, his heart and mind racing. What the hell was going on? Where was he? What was this place?
Josh rapidly felt all over himself. Just as he expected, connected to him were various wires. In a furious panic, he ripped them out and off of himself. It hurt, and in various places skin tore slightly, but he didn’t notice, his adrenaline was running too fast. He jumped up, immediately stumbling over heavily due to his legs not being ready for it - for some reason. Taking the time to steady himself, he stood up straight, and tried to plot out his next move.
He didn’t have time. As he stood there and began to focus, he finally noticed a sound. Footsteps. Located behind him, and getting louder, footstep after footstep. He swung around to see approaching him a single figure. He didn’t know if it was a man or a woman. It was tall, a head taller than him at least, and had a completely bald, round white head. The eyes were vertical slits, and the mouth a thin, horizontal line - barely perceptible against the rest of the facial skin. It wore a black jumpsuit, from upper neck to toe. As Josh and the being stood there, facing each other, the being - ever so slightly, Josh thought he could notice - smiled.
“You’re awake.” The being’s statement was just that - a statement. No question involved. The voice was high-pitched, yet at the same time, strangely melodic.
Josh’s heart began to race, but he was frozen in his spot. Maybe it was shock, maybe it was terror, but he couldn’t move. Finally, he summoned the strength - and courage - to speak.
“Who are you? Where am I? What is this place?”
The being smiled even wider. “Who I am is not important. Where you are is one of many holding facilities for human beings. This one, in particular, is aboard an orbital platform, in orbit of the world that you know as Mars. It was one of many that was constructed in the wake of the Cataclysm, seventy nine years ago.”
Josh’s face crunched up into an expression of confusion, of lack of understanding. “Cata-what? What’s happened!?” He didn’t understand.
The being sighed deeply, and shook its head ever so slightly. When it spoke, it spoke in a condescending, lecturing tone. “Seventy nine years ago, in what was known as your 25th century, a virus spread across your species. Roughly ninety-three percent of your species died as a result of it. The remainder went into a comatose state. It was these that my species government took custody of, including managing human reproduction on a mass scale, and maintaining your species' physical needs and neural activity, through a mass simulation, which is what you knew as ordinary life, until a cure for their condition could be developed.”
Josh stared suspiciously at the being. “Where do I come into this?”
The being continued. “Our medical and scientific research eventually indicated that the virus had more or less run its course, and that those in the comatose state would be immune, as would all their descendants. However, they would remain in the comatose state until they brought themselves out of it. This would occur first in a single person, and then would occur soon after across the remainder of the human species. What would end the comatose state would be a particular strain of heightened brain activity. It was this that manifested in you, when you solved the riddle that we had inserted into the simulation in order to spark the necessary level of brain activity.”
Josh still stared. He still didn’t get the entire story. “And...and what, you did this, this ‘taking custody’ of all of humanity, out of the good of your hearts?”
The being chuckled, and shook its head. “No. An agreement was made between my government and the one human being who was immune to the virus's lethal and debilitating effects. In exchange for us being the saviours of your species, we would be rewarded with a...recompense.”
“A recompense? What do you mean?”
When the being spoke, it spoke carefully. “We would be granted permanent custody over a tenth of the species for a specific purpose. The human negotiating the agreement at first refused to even consider our proposal, but...well, given the alternative, he didn’t have much choice.”
“Permanent custody? Of a tenth of humanity? Why?” Josh shot out sharply - not out of anger, but of an eager desire for answers.
The being simply stared at Josh in silence for a long couple of moments, and then began to explain. “You see...with my kind, eating - the consumption of food for sustenance - is a sacred, almost religious experience. And after our long, long history in the universe, we have developed certain...tastes.” The being then smiled fully, and as the meaning of the being’s words sunk in, Josh couldn’t help but see that smile as utterly, completely, horrifying.
|
All the new frontiers in science, technology and music; the art of speech, the art of art, the art of video
games, simulating within the... simulation of another life which I was born into, which they were coded into,
placed to make everything work....
Something didn't click when I solved the code. Something didn't click. My mother, my father, McDonald's...
all of it was gone. McDonald's was gone.
"Thanks for getting rid of McDonald's..... That place went downhill, man." I spewed when the large, faded,
rainbow coloured machine came off my head, and removed it's tubes from my mouth.
A very confused-looking person, gaping in shock and staring, eyes wider than the mouths of creatures of a
faked deep blue, staring at me like I was some sort of monster, was next to me. He was completely naked,
which was unsuprising yet equally arousing.
I then realized that I was completely naked as well, and started apologizing.
He calmed down very quickly after hyperventilating quite a lot.
"What did you do to get out of there? I don't remember them talking about another one..." He trailed off,
confused, and (understandably) rather scared.
"Ever heard of that one joke riddle? It goes like, 'What's the difference between an orange?' I think I may
have accidentally solved it." I whispered, not understanding why I was whispering.
"Huh?"
"The answer was simple: An apple."
Instantly, I knew something was wrong. His face started to melt, showing the glistening meat underneath;
then turning to bone, which started to form little cracks in it - little spider-web cracks, going all over his
skeletal frame, distorting everything.
His body - or what was left of it, at the very very least - shattered, and turned quickly to dust. I had never
seen someone die so vividly, so helplessly, as though time had stopped and he froze, then those events
were construed by some devilish form of Fate.
Then there was black. Nothing. Absolutely null. There wasn't ever this amount of nothing back home in the
Simulation.
A distant voice said, with a booming, echoing feel, "I'll remember that, Alex. The day that two worlds died
by the hands of one person. I should not have overlooked that bug for that long......"
(authors note: this is my first time, go easy... never written before, kinda anxious)
| 2016-08-06T21:53:03
| 2016-08-06T16:09:58
| 68
| 17
|
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk.
|
Darkness.
That was all the man could see - given that he was of sound mind, of course. For the man had spent an eternity, if not eons upon eons of *time* drifting through empty space. All that had once existed - the stars, galaxies, black holes - had inevitably faded away with the passage of time. Eventually, even time itself became obsolete, for if there was no change, no disorder, no *entrophy* then what was there left?
Simply nothing.
Well, except for this lonesome man drifting idly through nothingness of course. When a man could not see, hear, or feel *anything,* could he really be considered *alive?* He could not feel a comprehensible connection of any sort with the physical world, and yet he could think, he could ponder and even wonder. Trapped in the confines of his mind, the man could only entertain himself for so long. Eventually even his mind, his ability to conjure thoughts became obsolete against the vast expanse of endless nothingness. For when time itself became unsubstantial, there was no way for the man to connect one thought to the next chronologically. And so, the man became a vegetable. Occasionally seeing lights and shapes dancing across the vast expanse of nothingness every few hundred eons.
Until now.
A wooden, featureless door appeared in the middle of nothingness, and suddenly time resumed, as if the great cogs in the universe had begun turning again. There was *change* now, and the man immediately recognized this. It was as if he had woken from a drunken stupor. He could feel his heart beating, his hands moving, it was as if he his whole being had become sensate.
The door opened slowly, and for the first time - as the man watched the door swing wide open - it didn't feel like an eternity.
A figure draped in black stepped out of the door. "Greetings friend," he waved a skinless, bone hand at the man. "I hope I'm not too late."
The man didn't even blink - mostly because he hadn't done so in several hundred eons. "W-who are you?" he asked the dark figure that had emerged from the door.
"I am Death, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Oh Lost One." Death answered as he extended his hand for the man to shake. "What is your name?"
The man reached for Death's hand but at hearing Death's question he halted. "My... name?"
The man retracted his hand. His mind had suddenly fallen into disarray as he searched the endless void of his mind, looking for his name. After several long moments, the man gave up. "I-I don't know," he answered.
Death smiled, but his skinless face could show no sign of smiling. "That is fine. I don't know my name either but people often refer to me as death."
The man nodded.
"Olo," Death said suddenly.
"Olo?" the man tasted the word.
"Yes, you will be called Olo, Oh Lost One," Death said.
Olo nodded complacently, unsure of the name, unsure of everything really. He wasn't even sure if he was -
"Am I dead? Am I in hell?" Olo suddenly asked.
"Oh," Death intoned grimly. "I'm afraid you are very much alive, Olo. In fact, you have been alive for far, far too long."
Death brought his hand up, and with a snap, Olo's head was suddenly reeling with pain, a feeling that he had not felt in eons. Images flooded through his mind, and suddenly everything fell into place. His memories came to him, like they were yesterday. Olo could finally remember everything.
His name was not Olo.
*My name is... Patrick,* he realized, and with that realization came the next and the next. He was not just Patrick, but he was more prominently known as... *The Immortal.* He was born in the eighteenth century, and had watched and participated in the fall and rise of *Civilizations.* He had watched his family and loved ones pass away, dying in his embrace. Everything that he treasured and cared for turn to ashes in the third world war. He had watched the struggle of humanity for millenniums, and their eventual ascension to the Galactic Frontier. And finally... he had watched the great Humanity itself perish.
Patrick grit his teeth until he heard them crack, as an indescribable wave of agony and anger boiled within him, threatening to overflow. He had lost everything. Nothing mattered, because there was simply nothing. And yet, Patrick felt an insatiable rage well up within him. Because beneath everything that had happened, everything that he had realized and remembered, there was one thing that Patrick could not forgive.
"Death," Patrick uttered, spitting the vile word. "Death."
Death cocked his skinless head to the side and raised a non-existing eyebrow curiously.
"Death."
"Death."
"Deeeaaaath!" Patrick screamed until his voice was raw.
Patrick was not calling Death's name. No, he was chanting, for he had pleaded for so long, eons upon eons, begging for the sweet release of death and yet he was never answered. Eventually, even Patrick's senseless chanting of death was forgotten until now.
"All I ever wanted was death, and yet I was never given it."
"My apologies," Death scratched his ivory skull, then extended an open palm. Within his palm was a tiny hourglass. "You see, this is your allotted time." Death raised the hourglass to Patrick, pinching it between a finger and thumb.
Within the hourglass, Patrick could see that all of the sand had fallen to the bottom.
"And well, your time had long expired," Death said, then pointed at Patrick. "You, according to the Creed are a dead man, but you see... No one ever collected your soul..."
Patrick seethed. "Why?!" he spat.
"Well..." Death twisted his skull demurely to the side, shying away from Patrick's intense glare. "You see... Hm... Ahh... Well... I-I..."
"Out with it!" Patrick roared.
"Okay, okay," Death brought his hands up imploringly. "Apparently, unbeknownst to me... I had lost your Lifeglass. It was only a few moments ago, that I found it when I was doing the Big Clean."
Patrick closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. "Do you realize what you have put me through? Do you know how much I have suffered?" Patrick asked.
Death remained silent.
"No," Patrick said. "No, you wouldn't understand. You can't. How could you when you are not even human?"
"Olo, I am terribly sorry," Death prostrated low, and banged his head against the non-existing floor. "I truly am. I did not mean for you to suffer as you did."
"My name is not Olo. It is Pat-"
Patrick paused then shook his head slowly, as he remembered. Fragmented memories flitted through his mind. There were his family in the very far recesses of his mind but they were diminutive in comparison to the rest. There was so much. So much nothingness. He had spent more time in the void then actually living as Patrick. So much that it had overwhelmed his mind. Patrick was no more.
*Olo. Oh Lost One.*, he thought.
That was more fitting.
Olo raised his head, and glared at Death. "Olo..." Olo chuckled. "Whatever."
"I'm sorry," Death apologized again. "I want to make it up to you Olo. Even if this will never absolve me of my guilt, even if this is not enough, I must make amends for my atrocious error."
"Go on," Olo waved his hand dismissively, showing a lack of interest.
"I was just about to finish up the Big Clean and..."
Olo raised an eyebrow.
Death elaborated. "Finish up wiping the data and flushing the servers, you know?"
Olo nodded.
"Well, you see," Death said, "we're going to *restart* the Universe, and I would like to extend to you an official Amendment Package. Exclusively for you, and its contents of premium quality, and personally selected by me for you Sir."
Olo hesitated then spoke. "All I want is death, Death. Nothing else."
"I assure you, Olo, you will be pleased," Death quickly replied, then added, "You will not remember anything. You will be as good as dead. Think of this as simply... a divine blessing in your Cycle, and all your following Cycles to come."
Olo closed his eyes, taking a moment to consider.
"Please, this is the least I can do, after the blunder that I had done to you," Death pleaded.
Olo sighed loudly, then nodded. "Whatever."
Death smiled and extended a hand to Olo. "Thank you Olo. I will not forget the pain I had caused you."
Olo shook Death's hand.
"Farewell," Death turned around and returned to the door, closing it behind him as he left.
Olo blinked, and suddenly he could hear a resounding voice that echoed from the Nothingness itself.
*"Let there be light."*
And there was light.
-----
-----
/r/Em_pathy
Did not expect this to get so long...
|
The boy ran, red-faced, across the field full of dead grass and frosty branches. Winter had passed but spring was yet to come. His still frozen breaths shivered him slightly. It was cold, yet he was burning. He might have a fever.
That morning, his parents, him and his little sister along with another dozen doctors and scientists drove to this remote place, faraway from home, where leafless trees hung like skeletons and no living thing was in sight and the ground a black murky color and the sky was bleak grey and it seemed ready to rain and the leftover snow dissolved pitifully. They entered this building with even more scientists and doctors and he helped push his sister's bed along the steel cold corridor with all the smell of foreign chemicals in the air. He wanted to get close to his sister but there were too many people around so instead he just gently took his wool hat and covered her thin bald head with it. His parents was walking alongside the bed, his father was talking with a doctor about how they were going to froze his sister and thawed her out when there was a cure, his mother was holding his sister's little hand and telling her stories from her favorite picture book. He wanted to hold her hand too, if only it wasn't tangled in the multitude of wires that smelt like hospital.
At the end of the corridor was a large living room. All the doctors and scientists left at once, leaving his family behind. He saw his mother shaking, and he knew she was going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. He was a man and men don't cry. Strangely enough, his mother didn't, either.
"Honey, you've been through this many times before." - said his mother - "You're going to take a quick nap and when you wake up you're going to feel a lot better."
"And this is going to be the last time, too." - said his father - "After this you never going to the hospital again."
"You promise." - a small light lit up in tired eyes. - "You really promise?"
"Have I ever lied to you before?" - his father extended his arm and they made a pinky promise - "Tell you what, when we get home there will be a party and all your friends are gonna be invited."
"Not Carla, dad! I hate her."
"No Carla then, and mom's gonna make the best pancakes she had ever made and you can play all you want and you don't have to go to bed. You'll do that, right, dear?"
His father told his mother once, then twice, and his mother just hugged her baby.
"I love you, hon." - she said - "I love you."
"I love you too, mum." - his sister returned the hug. - "And I love you too, dad."
"My brave fighter." - said his father, caressing her head. - "Harry, do you want to say something to your sister? Something nice?"
So the boy stepped forward into the spot of his mother, and he held the hand of his sister. But he didn't said anything. It was his sister that spoke.
"Promise me you'll feed Whisker three times a day and only with tuna? He hates vegetable so don't make him eat your broccoli."
The boy didn't reply. A doctor stood across the glass pane by the door. His father replied instead.
"He'll, hon. Now, be brave." - he took the boy's hands away from his sister's, and the boy said.
"Whisker will be there when you wake up. And I will be there when you wake up. And mom and dad. Everyone's gonna be there when you wake up."
They watched as the doctors pushed the bed into another room, and on the screen they could see a cold mist envelope her sister's body. They could see her sleeping face, frozen in time. They could send a prayer, into the future.
His mother wiped her face with a handkerchief and his father lit up a smoke by the window. Nobody said anything. He thought about how she would be 4 when he is 18, 4 when he is 40 and when he turned 80 she would be 4. And time still flowed. And time still flowed... Still nobody said anything. He screamed out, but his mother was still wiping her face and his father still smoked the burned-out cigarette.
So he ran.
He ran, red-faced, across a field full of dead grass and frosty branches. It was cold. He was shivering and shaking, but he was burning also. He slipped and fell, face-down into a puddle of mud and the mud got in his eyes and he got a reason to cry. As he lied face-down in the puddle, shaking and shivering and burning, he hoped spring would come soon. He really hoped, that the ice would thaw and spring would come soon.
| 2018-10-03T07:44:44
| 2018-10-03T07:34:53
| 41
| 11
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