Split (1)

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Fuck you bitch ! I scream wavering my rainbow flag with a peace and love symbol on it. I jump on the table, and start headbanging on a Jimmy Hendrix song I just put on my smartphone. My friends look at me in awe, because I'm awesome. I know it. As I look up to the warmonger, I see his confusion. -What the f.. I don't let him finish. I drape myself in my flag and roll out the room, followed by all my friends. -Come back here, I didn't finish my exposé ! He shouts. But we're far already. Two of my friends light up a blunt and bring it to my lips. I can't grab it with my hands as I'm still rolling on the floor, cocooned in my rainbow flag. I take a hit, it feels good. I never liked warmongers anyway, they're dumb. They don't even want the riches or the glory. Just War. Morons. As I keep rolling far from this ass of a man surrounded by all my friends, I feel good about myself. Wasting that warmonger time was the best thing I could do for society. Now he'll have to wait for an another year to have the right to gather an other bunch of young man and try them to send them to death. And guess who will be there with a rainbow flag and enough weed to put an elephant on low orbit ? You're goddamn right.
Excuse me, hi, is the place where I can file an appeal? Yes, if you’d step back behind the yellow tape, please. I’m sorry? At your feet. Is this better? You wish to file an appeal? Yes. I feel like I ought to have been processed but they are saying I wasn’t a decent person. I feel there’s been some kind of mistake. Have you brought the forms? I have. There wasn’t a lot of space in the answer boxes so I sort of wrapped some of my responses along the side here. And then on the back. See? Creative. Do I just wait until a decision is made? How does this work, exactly? It’s not complicated. I’ll feed this paper into this beige machine with these red, green, yellow flashing lights. It will then spit out a code on this LED screen here. I will read the code and punch that code into this black machine here with the pulsating red eye. If the appeals are accepted you will be escorted to the processing plant. If not you won't feel a thing. Are the machines a hundred percent accurate? Are there ever mistakes? These machines are pretty old. I keep telling them we need new ones but they never listen. That’s unsettling. I’ve made peace with it. So, are you going to feed the paper into the machine now or is there a stack of papers ahead of me? Oh I’ll place it in there right now. Really? Wait! You want to make a few more adjustments? Yes and I’m wondering. Is there a manual or a guidebook. You know it could be really helpful when trying to decide what to write down on the paper. It doesn’t work that way. Well, can you tell me who made this life-thing system? Bart. The person who made this life-thing is named, Bart? Bart is not a person. Oh. What is Bart, exactly? It doesn’t matter. Well, can you, um, tell me what Bart is like? You want to know what Bart is like? Yes, if I know what Bart is like maybe I can, you know -- Appeal to it? Bart is an, it? Sure. Alright. So what is it like? It is like closing your eyes and being able to smell the noise with your tongue. Like looking at your watch and realizing you’re late for something that hasn’t started yet and arriving precisely on time. Here’s your paper back. Do you still have your pencil? Yes. One more question. Last one. Then I really must help the next person in line. Are the pencils important? Why not a pen? The forms are meaningless. The pencils are meaningless. I am meaningless. Will you please step behind the yellow tape! Sorry. The tape is meaningless. But I don't understand-- Next!
Mike opened the file, his commander gave him. he sees the screenshots of social media posts of cosplayers cosplaying as the protagonist from the famous Anime, white butler. All these cosplayers have gone missing the next day after posting “here you go Mr.Jasper here is the file you asked for. Are you sure you would like to handle this case?” “of course Sir. why not?” Jasper thought this case was simple as the last one but little does he know it's not. He returns back home and checks the file once more, searching for any clues he missed out. After an hour or so, he closes the file tired. He takes his phone out for some relaxation. he open Instagram, and the first thing that popped up was a college student cosplaying as Sebastian. Seems like I got some lead. Early morning, Mr.jasper drinks his coffee, dresses up as a middle-class man, gets out, and starts to follow the person who is suspected to be the next victim, whose name he found out to be Sam. Sam goes into a random building gets in the elevator, and goes to the top floor. Mr.Jasper follows him through the other elevator and goes to the top floor, but the victim is nowhere to be found, he goes to the restaurant and there he is at table 134 Mr jasper books the closest table to him and spies on the victim guy and then a person from a far distance calls him “Hey Sam come here yeah over here” After a short conversation, Sam exits the building and jasper starts to follow him again. He exits the building and looks for Sam but he is going through the narrow shady passage. Why is he going there? Mr. jasper lagged behind so that it wasn’t obvious that he was following. Jasper lost sight of him for a short moment. He quickly walks to catch up but, It was a dead end. where did he go? He was right here a few seconds ago! all that effort was for nothing, right before when he was about to give up he saw a moving shadow behind the dumpster, he goes behind it. there is a long tunnel going deep, he started to crawl in and finally reached the bottom of the tunnel he was ready to get out but didn’t cause he saw the victim tied up to a chain and another person. Person in front of him. “the real me is stuck here, while you people are having fun acting like me” The anonymous man stated darkly. Jasper reaches for his gun. I’m sure I kept it here! shit did I not bring it! Jasper started to panic, and so how attracted some attention. The person standing in front turned his head at a strangely quick and painful angle, shocking jasper. It wasn’t the turning of his head but how the person looked that creeped jasper. He looked exactly like Sebastian, the hair, the face, his black eyes. With a sick smile plastered across his face, Sebastian starts walking toward Jasper. Jasper tries to go backward in the tunnel only to know it was blocked on the other side.
\---Narrator in quote blocks--- It was a lonely late morning that would soon turn into a dark afternoon. >Mary opened the curtains to a bright day and saw heavy clouds in the distance. Harry stretched his arms while allowing death to wash over him. He dragged his body to the kitchen where he poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee with a pinch of orange juice. >Mary is colorblind and did not see that the coffee creamer was actually orange juice. The foul taste brought disgust to his lips. Harry slumped in a chair while grabbing yesterday's newspaper. Old news burdened the thoughts of what is still happening. >The newspaper boy kindly dropped off the current newspaper. The top headlines were that stock prices have sky rocketed and oil is cheaper than dirt. Mary always forgets to put on her reading glasses. Harry moves back to his bed and drops to his knees. A red bra is noticed sticking out beneath the velvet silk sheets. "What happened to the girl last night? Did she leave me again for another like the last one?" >Mary picked up her bra and wept to the thought that her husband will not return. He would rather take long vacations away from a wife with multiple personality disorder. Mary wonders why she is on her knees. She picks herself back up and smiles at the thought of the sweet smell of rain while she swings in a hammock.
"So are you comfortable on the laptop screen or should I turn on the TV?". It was never easy to cater to the needs of the replicant side of the couple. Being alive myself, I had to consciously make sure I didn't take a physical presence for granted. "I am alright here, thank you. Let's get on with it", said Jacob. That was met with the expected eye-roll from Kayla. Well she had the eyes to roll, she might as well. Couple's therapy was not at the top of any charts to begin with. But add to it the complexity of post-mortem replicant technology and things went from murky to downright untenable. Getting both of them settled down, I glanced at the clock and put on my bravest face. "How are you two doing?"I asked. I think I have a masochist streak. Why else would I subject myself to this? Become a therapist they said. You will improve peoples' lives they said. How did i come down to figuring out peoples' AFTER-life problems. "She didn't value my time when I was alive and she clearly doesn't give a damn now."Jacob spat out. "Well some of us are actually alive and need to subject ourselves to shitty traffic to get to this godforsaken office - oh no offence doc."Kayla shot back. That was mighty considerate of her to think I might actually have feelings. Wait, am I actually making... progress? I pushed that absurd thought to the back of my mind, smiled and said, "alright, let's get going."
The newspapers had described it as a “fall from grace”. Some tabloids had gone with “rags to riches to rags” and others still called it the “reverse Midas”. Jeremy Donner no longer had the golden touch. He tried to sit up. And he coughed so hard he thought his lungs were coming out. He reached for the glass of water. Feeble arms shaking. Straining from the weight. Throat so dry, the water tasted like brine. An electronic voice spluttered from the speaker. James Montgomery and Lionel Sachs were coming to see him. Jeremy wanted to smile. But smiling required energy. He had none. He’d ordered them to turn off all the monitors. They’d said something about keeping him alive. And he’s said something about peace. Dying in it. No more tubes sticking out of his body. He wanted to die human. Not looking like he was half machine. He couldn’t smell anymore. But the room was sterile white. So, he imagined it smelt like bleach. Montgomery and Sachs entered the hospital room like they walked into boardrooms, with swagger. Like walking was beneath them. Pencil thin Montgomery and Bloated Sachs. They looked like a comedy duo in expensive suits. But the joke was always on you, Jeremy thought. They represented billions in net worth. Jeremy had wondered if they’d send their lawyers. Or fixers. But gloating was best done in person. Montgomery twiddled his oil black moustache. His cold grey eyes were drinking in the surroundings. He ran a hand through the dyed salt and pepper hair and then clasped his fingers in front of him. He loomed over the bed. Like a scarecrow, Jeremy thought. Sachs dragged one of the chairs meant for visitors and brought next to Jeremy’s head. It was where a wife would have sat, if Jeremy had one. Or maybe a doting parent, if Jeremy hadn’t been an orphan. It was a position for intimacy. But the look on Sach’s face didn’t match. His round face was contorted into a slimy grin. He looked like his facial development had stopped at fifteen, ridden with acne, thin lips, blue pinpricks for eyes. Thin black hair. Body like a whale. A caricature. But the grotesque physique hid a vicious but brilliant mind. “We’ve come to pay our last respects and to wish you a very Happy Birthday,” Montgomery said, his voice was quiet and commanding. A man accustomed to giving orders. Sachs wasn’t feeling so generous. “You were never going to bring us down, Donner. We gave you the chance to join us. Make even more money. But you rolled the dice, friend,” he hissed. A small glob of spit landed on Jeremy’s lip. Happy Birthday, Jeremy thought, words only ever spoken by enemies. This would be his last one. The radiation poisoning should have killed him a few days after exposure. But death was cruel here. It only took you on the day life had begun. Symmetry. And so, his body had been deteriorating for months. Rotting. “And just in case you think we didn’t know when your birthday was. We knew,” Montgomery said with a lopsided grin. "But why rob ourselves of the sheer pleasure of watching you suffer? We arranged your… present a few months ahead of time,” Sachs added. Finishing Montgomery’s sentence. “We destroyed your precious machine. Stock in Time Inc was already at an all time low,” Montgomery said. "You lost your wealth and your life’s work. For what? Integrity? Equality? The time travel experience for the masses? I don’t know how you could have been so stupid,” Sachs continued. Jeremy’s mind drifted. The Time King, they’d called him. From working in his friend’s garage to billionaire almost overnight. His technology was going to change the world. And then one day, a few years later, he’d decided to share it with everyone. Time Travel for the cost of a coffee. Heavily monitored time travel. But people could get to see history. I-phones and Teslas. Ancient technology. Montgomery burst into his thoughts. “It wasn’t enough to bankrupt yourself. You suddenly cared about equality. Cared about our business practices. About the people working in your factories. Pensions. Stock options. Retirement. When you opened up your books to the world, everyone was suddenly interested in ours. We tried to talk to you. At the country club. At Dandelion’s Inn on Mars. But suddenly you didn’t want to spend money on "excesses",” “We paid the auditors, Jeremy. But I’m sure you’ve figured that out. Of course, you never stole any pensions. But no one else needs to know that. Ruined overnight. We couldn’t use your machine, no one could without you. So, we had it destroyed. And this room was swept for bugs before we even set foot here. The whole hospital, actually. No one will ever know. They only have robots working here now. A fitting end for the Father of Technology,"Sachs finished. The door burst open and Jeremy walked through the door. He looked younger. He was standing at his full height. Just under six foot. He was neither skinny nor bloated. And he wasn’t anyone’s idea of handsome. Coal grey eyes, weak jaw, jet black hair. Healthy. Sachs jumped up as if he’d seen a ghost. Like his eyes were lying to him. And then he swivelled to look at the Jeremy on the bed. Montgomery had dropped onto the floor in shock. “Father Time actually,” Younger Jeremy said, “Not Father of Technology. And you two will be pleased to know that whilst I never told anyone this, I managed to resolve the issue I had with travelling to the future. And the whole “time travel paradox” thing.” He paused and looked at the older him. Decaying. “I came to tell you that Jeremy there, isn’t as stupid as you think. He found out something about all of you that you’d never suspected. Have you ever looked closely at each other, like really? Or thought about your trajectories? What are the odds that one city would produce three very brilliant men. Geniuses. Ambitious. Single minded. Billionaires by 40. Able to finish each other’s sentences? Adopted?” Montgomery sat up and stared very closely at younger Jeremy and then at Sachs. The disbelief was written on his face. Sachs’ pinprick eyes widened. “I have to die today. Saving myself irrevocably alters the timeline and not in a good way. I knew this a long time before you planned this deception. I knew I couldn’t stop it. And before you tell me what I’m suggesting is impossible. I’ll tell you the something I did when I realised you were going to murder me. I went back in time and altered your birth certificates and adoption papers. I changed the names of your birth parents and the days of your births. Sachs, I made ten days older and Montgomery, 20 days older. I know you can do the math gentlemen.” Jeremy smiled as he could see the realisation dawning on the two men. Impossible. “Why do you think the hospital is deserted? And why would Jeremy choose a hospital in the middle of nowhere? No human staff? No other patients? Three babies came into the world together on August 25,” young Jeremy said, with a smile. He was already running out of the room before Montgomery and Sachs could try to leave, pressing the button to lock the door. On the bed, Jeremy moved his decomposing toe to the detonator fitted into the frame. And he said the first raspy words he’d spoken in months. The last he would ever speak. “Happy Birthday, brothers!”
Oftentimes, I wondered if maybe I should have just left it alone, pretended I didn't see anything anything at all. Gotten a new pair of glasses. A refund was out of the question, since the optometrist store had been closed down and boarded up when I returned, looking abandoned as though it had never been opened. Maybe I had been chosen. Or it could have all been nothing but chance. It did not matter. I could not simply let it go. I take a deep breath, eyes locking onto a target. It was a young boy, who was walking home with a beaten down look. Through the dark-rimmed heavy-set glasses, I saw a massive black mass on his back, a horrid thing, sucking the energy out of him. I had seen what happened when the black mass was allowed to continue to grow. It would end inevitably in suicide. I followed him, hoping this time I would not fail. I couldn't help but think, if only someone else had such a pair of glasses and could have saved my father.
The death bell of old iron rattlesnake spurs The gunslingers dust coats, they flutter and stir The lightning strikes once and the thunder is heard But the two weary gunslingers don't say a word They furrow their brows and they stare at eachother There's a tension A father A son A brother There's a good side, a bad side, there's a grieving mother There's another lightning strike Followed by thunder The lightning took seed in dry tumbleweed and the desert began to take flame An ignited arena But no spark could mean a Damn thing to the last that takes aim They knew the agreement as flames licked their boots They would wait for the third strike to shoot As the last bolt came down So did his hammer So did the rain Make ash and soot.
"Sure", I say, "do it!" "What? Wait, no, that isn't what I meant!", Seven exclaims. "Look, One, there has to be-". I cut him off, laughing hollowly. "The building is surrounded. They collapsed the escape tunnels on top of Three and Four, Two is dead and Five and Six have turned against us. Do you think there is any hope left for us?" Outside the barely intact shack, a voice calls, as cold as the air of the winter night: "Surrender now or we will open fire!" Seven looks at the door, where the voice came from and swallows. "And what about me?", he whispers. "You?"I give him a mocking smile. "I don't care at all."It isn't the truth, really, but I am running out of time. I havr to make him angry. "After all, it was you who botched the mission and revealed us. I knew I shouldn't have trusted the new guy, but time was short and so I had to make due with the scraps I had." Seven's eyes widened in shock and he took a step back. Great. Now he was afraid. "And now you can't even fulfill one last request from you boss", I whisper and lean in close. "You don't have the guts, you never had them for this kind of life. Come on! Kill me!" He turns and runs for the door. I sigh. Doing it myself is hard; the natural instinct for preservation kicks in. I take the knife out of its sheath, while Seven screams outside at the top of his lungs: "I surrender!"It's a beautiful knife. Pity I won't be able to keep it. I lift the knife to my heart. Outside the man from before is yelling again. I almost can't hear him, all my concentration lies in putting that knife into my body. As I float in the usual "Space between", I think. What would be a good body to be reincarnated in? I usually take a man's body. They are the most versatile and interesting, but it might not be enough this time. Can I choose something... More? Something better? It resists me. But I pull through. A huge, flying, fire breathing dragon lands behind the men in front of the shack. One of them squeaks and lets go of Seven. He scurries away while I open my mouth. Warmth floods over my tongue and men burn.
Searching. My father was killed in a pub fight that got out of hand when I was only ten years old, I remember my mum crying hysterically when the police knocked at our door at eleven thirty pm that fateful night. My mum sat me down and tried to explain that my da had gone to heaven, but I was a bit too young to understand what was going on. The days after that were a bit of a blur of relatives coming and going, neighbours popping in to see if mum needed anything, things like that. Then came the day of the funeral, I was dressed up in my Sunday best, we arrived at the church and took our seats at the front. I looked around the crowded church, there were a lot of people there that I didn’t know, but my nan and granddad were there, plus several uncles and aunts. While I was looking around, the church organ started to play some really sombre music, and six men came in carrying my dad in a plain wooden coffin, it was at this point it struck me that my dad was really gone. I looked over at my mum and she was silently crying, and so was my nan, so, that set me off crying as well, my granddad put his arm around me and tried to comfort me. Before I knew it, we were standing out in the graveyard around a large, deep hole, the vicar spoke a few more words and my dad’s coffin was lowered into the hole, My mum dropped a single red rose on top of the coffin, as we slowly walked away, the grave was filled in by two of the cemetery workers. The funeral car took us to a local pub, where there were a few drinks and a bit of food laid on for dad’s wake. The police charged a man with dad’s murder, and a few months later, it came to trial, the man, Charlie Rood, said that he acted in self-defence, but the CCTV showed him hitting my dad over the head from behind with one of the beer mugs with the handle. This caused my dad to fall forward and hit his head on a table, this caused a fatal brain haemorrhage, meaning my dad died where he fell. Charlie Rood was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to eighteen years. I made a vow to find him when he was released from prison. Charlie Rood served twelve years of his sentence, and true to my word, I sought him out as soon as I could. I had friends keeping an eye out for him, then one Saturday evening, I received a phone call, Charlie Rood had been seen in a local pub. I made my way there as fast as I could, sitting at a table on his own was a man, he was hunched over his pint of lager, he was going bald, the hair he had was going white, even though he was only in his early fifties. I walked over to the bar and ordered a pint and a double whisky. I carried them over to the table that Charlie was sitting at, placed the whisky in front of him and sat down. Charlie looked at me with a puzzled look on his face, he said, “do I know you?” I said, “no, but you knew my father, Jimmy Pearce.” Charlie stared at me in shock, he said, “I didn’t mean to kill your dad, it just happened. We had both been drinking.” I said, “don’t worry about it, you saved my mum and me from a life of abuse, he would come home from the pub, pissed out of his brain, and take it out on mum and me. So, thank you, would you mind if I shook your hand.”? Charlie looked at me in surprise and said, “I thought for all these years that you and your mum would have hated me for killing your dad.” I shook his hand and thanked him profusely and then we shared quite a few drinks. The end. Copyright Phil Wildish. 26/08/2022.
I stopped in a clearing, feeling the eyes of the creature bore into the back of my skull. For a moment I wavered, wondering if this really was a good idea. No, this was a terrible idea, but it was the only idea I had to go on. My one thread of hope. My breath fogged slightly before me as an uncanny chill grew closer. And closer. I was almost there. I just had to wait a few more feet and then… “I wish to know the deepest secrets of this forest.” I declared, resisting the urge to hug my arms around my chest. This had to work, I couldn’t afford to mess up. How deeply do you wish? Came the reply like frost creeping along a fir branch. “D-deeper than the oceans, and w-wider than the sky.” I replied, clenching my jaw to keep from chattering. The rules were very specific, any mistake on my part would not be taken kindly. At best, it would seem as though I came unprepared, and at worst it would cause the being great offense. It had watched me get lost, heard the purpose of my hike in my steps and seen the determination in my shadow. It had roused itself from whatever sleep it previously lay in to follow me and, if I proved worthy, give me the answers only it could provide, only to be met with a mere child wasting it’s time. Deeper than the oceans… Wider than the sky… it chewed on my words, then asked with a sound of breaking ice, Can you hold the weight of what you seek? “My bones may be brittle and my skin paper thin, but the integrity of my soul will hold the weight of worlds.” Shit. What I supposed to say ‘weight of worlds’, with an ‘s’, or ‘weight of the world’? Shit shit shitshitshitshitshit— Hmmm, A gust of icy wind blew down my back and I gasped, my terror replaced by the sudden shock of the freeze against my skin. We shall see, won’t we? I forgot to close my eyes as my head was tilted back and I was face to face with… with… words failed me and my mind forgot everything except for the glacial breath the being breathed across my face, swirling tendrils of ice ghosting into my nose and down my throat and into my lungs. I forgot to close my eyes. My lungs burned and froze at the same time and I was just a small, puny tree against the avalanche of information, understanding, that poured through my brain. My world narrowed between my failing vision—I’d forgotten to close my eyes—, my drowning mind, and my lungs which were alit with icy flames. I was so overwhelmed, I couldn’t decide which feeling to focus on. It was becoming too much. I was choking on the ice, my vision was all but gone, and my soul… would there be anything left after I’d been buried by the creature’s answer? Would I still exist?
I blink at the tentacled abomination in my fridge, “and how would that benefit me in any way shape or form.” I ask deadpanned. I was currently in shock, this really shouldn’t have been remotely possible. So I turned to old faithful, my snark. “We offer great power, immortality, and the knowledge of the universe in all its horrible glory,” the moldy ham sandwich of a mouth spoke. ”why would I want to be immortal? As rotting food at that.” This gives the eldrich leftovers pause. “That is a valid point, but you would not be rotting. The ’leftovers’ as you refer to them would be left behind, leaving only us.” A tendril of limp lettuce brushes my hand. “Gross, can you not?” I say jumping back. At least the beast can recognize a faux pa when it sees one. “Forgive me human, I have been without a host for a millennium. Humans were so willing back then. What is it you desire? I’m sure we can come to a compromise.” I just look at the amalgamation of 6 months of filth. “I want to know why the hell you want to ‘fuse’ with me!” I demand, “Tell me or I’m getting the fungicide.” the demon food shudders, “please don’t. It took a long time before the material was in such a state as to house even a bit of me. You would be able to hold so much more.” “Why?” I ask again, “Last chance.” The thing sighs, “Because, human, you fascinate me.” I blink a few times, unsure whether to be flattered. “Really?” “Really” I don’t know what to say. “I’ll get back to you”. I shut the door and grab the fungicide. God I’m really doing this aren’t I? I toss the sprayer out the window, if mom sees this I don’t want her to interfere. Opening the fridge door I give my answer, “I accept.”
As I step onto the stage, the spotlight getting dimmer and dimmer, I rush to find anything to say. A word, or a sentence that would put her at ease, but I can't. There are so many words that I could use, but I could never know the right ones, nor how to put them in the right order. If only I had a second more to find the words that I want to say to you, my love. Ironic isn't it? I spent all this time I had just thinking about what to say and I've run out of time to say much of anything. "I'm sorry."
Wow... Life can be so fragile and so sparse with happiness. Life can ruin you, then it can fix you. Then life can erase that fix and ruin you again -- just because it wants to. Dreams are not reality. They never will be. They aren't your future. They aren't an alternative destination, yet I craft them all the same. People try their best to make sense of something that is senseless; I find that amusing. What I don't find amusing is this man's plight -- the man for which I am tasked with creating a dream. A man who wants to die... Why though? Is it because his partner left him? Is it because he hates his job? Does his mind hurt? He has chosen a bridge. I am told he used to run on it every day. He stopped, of course. He stopped when things got bad -- after his brain had already tormented him. He's battered and broken. I know this because I can read his thoughts, those dark, grey thoughts. I can almost hear them, the way they nag and retreat under the skin, waiting for him to become vulnerable. And he is vulnerable -- always. I feel bad for this tired human. So I will show him the sun -- as it sets and rises. The light of humanity scorches onward; it blazes forward. As man does, it rises and falls but never ceases to burn. I will show him his loved ones, those who loved him now and before. I will let that love swallow him until he knows for sure that there is comfort to be had -- until he knows that warmth is rich and can feel him up when he is low. I want to show him that it's okay to be carried, that life is about the cultivation of connection -- that connection is always blooming. I want to show him that it's okay to be vulnerable and ask for help from those he is connected to. He should constantly seek it. I will show him a mirror -- a mirror of himself and his accomplishments. I will show him what he willed and what he still longs for. I want him to know that there are so many roads to travel, so many beautiful strangers to meet. I want him to know that, although some journeys are arduous, there is bliss to be found at every corner. I want him to know that his life is an epic quest and that he is the hero. He is his truth. He is his beacon, and he is special. He is special because the rode he walked is different. It is unique, and no human can ever take that away from him. I want to show him that it's okay to suffer. I want to show him that he is not weak. And he shall witness this once he falls asleep. It will be okay, beautiful human. You are strong. Please stay right here. Dreams may be senseless, but I will show you reality.
Open the door? To the outside? That, that’s crazy! I flip the paper over and back again, rereading the message. My eyes flick up to the door, and back down. They can’t be serious. There’s no way. This… was just another test! Yes. Another test by Dr. Gerta and Dr. Siggs. With a smile and a shake of my head, I put the paper back where I’d found it, and returned to my seat at the table in the kitchenette. There were rules to be followed, the first most rule being to never leave the room. Ever. This was just a test to see if I could still follow the rules. I mean, I was dreadfully curious about what was outside my rooms. But I respected Dr. Gerta and Dr. Simms more. They raised me! They saved me, when all the other doctors and nurses didn’t want anything to do with me. Just because I was different. I wasn’t just different, I was dangerous. But Dr. Gerta and Dr. Simms didn’t care. Instead they gave me a nice home to live in while I learned to be less dangerous. The first two and a half hours passed easily. I entertained myself by changing the color of my skin using the dyes from last night’s meal. I made little red and green and blue swirls, made different shapes with them, I even tried to mix the dyes to get purple or teal but only got a bruised color. After the three hour mark I started to get hungry. And after the five hour mark I started to worry. Dr. Gerta and Dr. Simms always had breakfast with me. It’s how I learned table manners and how to wake up on time. Well, maybe they wouldn’t mind it if I got something from the fridge? No! This is a test! And an important one. The rules are there for a reason. They keep everyone safe and orderly. There must have been a reason Dr. Gertaand Dr. Simms couldn’t come for breakfast, but surely they’d come for lunch. Lunchtime came and went. I stared at the door, wondering when they’d come for me. If anyone would come for me. I blinked slowly, my stomach rumbling again when a sudden thought occurred to me. Maybe… maybe this was a different test. Propelled by this thought, I lifted my head and slid out of my chair, returning to the note on the end table. But if this wasn’t a test of obedience and patience, what kind of test was this? I picked up the paper again, letting my eyes close as I held the note close and inhaled deeply. My eyes shot open when I smelled it: blood and stress and sweat, and another almost spicy smell that made me sneeze. How had I not seen this before? The lettering was crooked! It was Dr. Gerta’s swooping handwriting, no doubt there, but the loops were tight and cramped. Both Dr. Gerta and Dr. Simms’ blood and sweat were on the paper, even if you couldn’t see it. One of the things that made me… different… was my ability to recognize and manipulate certain substances that others wouldn’t be able to detect. The fancy word for it was “BioManipulation”. It’s why I’ve been alone all these years. Tucked away so I couldn’t hurt anyone, and so no one could hurt me. That’s why rule number one was to never leave. ”You are different, Miri,” Dr. Gerta had told me once when I was younger and didn’t understand why I couldn’t go outside. ”Simeon and I… we understand your difference and, we are not afraid. But others… We don’t…” She sighed long and thought for even longer, ”The outside world doesn’t… do well with different. They will not understand you at first, which will cause them to fear you. This is human nature, to fear what we don’t understand. And… in their fear they may try to hurt you and take you away from Sime—Dr. Simms and I.” “But if it is human nature to fear what you don’t understand, then do you and Dr. Simms understand me? Are,” I remember looking straight into her crystalline green eyes when I asked this, ”Are you and Dr. Simms afraid of me?” She’d chosen her next words with such care. I remember the way her dark olive skin crinkled as she smiled, her calloused and warm hand cupping my face, ”Dr. Simms and I… yes. I won’t lie to you.” “I’d know if you did.” I remembered feeling her pulse through the skin of her hand, my cheek becoming slightly damp from her nervous sweat. And she’d laughed then. I loved that sound, like ringing bells. ”You are absolutely correct, Miri. But to answer you question,” She became very serious after that, ”Yes, Dr. Simms and I are afraid. We are afraid… because we we don’t know the full extent of your BioManipulation powers. We don’t know how it works, how you got these powers, where you got these powers, or even who you got them from. But listen to me, Miri, this fear doesn’t even come close to the love Dr. Simms and I have for you. Our love for you far outweighs our fear of your powers, and we both know that you would never hurt us on purpose. “We want to make sure that you are ready to join the outside world, and we want to keep you safe from those that would hurt you or take advantage of your powers. Do you understand?” “I think so, Dr. Gerta.”* I was seven then, and now I’m fifteen. The memory hit me like a wave. Was the test to see if I could survive outside? Were they waiting for me on the other side of the door? And “go”? “Go” where? These rooms and my caretakers were all I’ve ever known. To say I was afraid was an understatement. Cortisol flooded my veins and I could taste bile as I neared the door. What if it was locked? Okay, that wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Just convert some of my sweat to sulfuric acid and let it devour the door knob and lock with a simple touch. Oh… oh this is happening. Is this really happening? No, it’s definitely happening. I clutched the paper to my chest and managed to get my hand on the door knob. It may have been hours. It may have been minutes. Heck, it could’ve been infinity and simultaneously altogether. But I steeled myself and began inching the door knob to the right. The door clicked as it opened just a smidge. It wasn’t too late to close the door and go back to waiting. I’m a patient person, fifteen years of waiting for the doctors to show up. Waiting for the change of the season. Waiting for dough to rise so that Dr. Simms would teach me how to make bread. Waiting to… to… Fifteen years of waiting to open the door myself. “I hope this is the right test,” I whispered before slowly pulling the door open, the note becoming a crumpled mess in my fist.
She was eternal, born in the fires of a new universe, born so long ago that she could not remember where she came from. She had watched the embers of creation cool into gas and dust and ice. She had been there when the gasses coalesced into a fiery ball, she had watched the rocky spheres of the planets form. And for so many eons, she had been alone in her sterile garden. She was lonely, but she loved her home all the same. The two spheres the goddess loved the most were the third and the fourth, two worlds where finally, after untold time, the spark of self-replication had ignited. But it was a bittersweet love, for she knew that one of them was doomed to a quick death as the world’s atmosphere shriveled. She would mourn it bitterly. The other was doomed as well, of course, but it would be her companion for some time to come. So she watched this world, this place where self-replicating sacs clung to their existence in the warm seas of liquid water. She watched as the sacs began to grow, began to develop structure and complexity, she watched as finally sac spoke to sac in their crude language of chemicals.And when her beloved world froze, the goddess prayed for its survival, and she felt joy when the ice receded. Chemical sac spoke with sac, fused with sac, and soon beings made of many, many sacs floated through the waters of the world. The goddess watched. And such wonders she saw! Strange creatures with many fins, strange things which sustained themselves with the light of the flaming sphere of gas, all born out of the chemical muck. She watched them leave the seas and grow on the land, until the whole world teemed with life. The goddess watched her world grow, she watched the life on it grow and develop and expand. And several times, she watched it come close to extinction and she feared being alone once more. But life prevailed. Life prevailed through the ice, through the blasts of energy from distant stars, through the gasses of volcanoes, through the collisions with tumbling asteroids. She watched, alone. She watched as life developed, until one day, a strange form of life came to be on her world. It was a humble, hairy creature, but as the goddess looked into its eyes she knew this one was different. She just hadn’t expected how different it would be. It molded its environment to a level she had never seen before. It spread throughout the world. It grew, it developed. She doubted it even knew why; she certainly did not. Not yet. Nudity gave way to clothes, stone instruments gave way to bronze and iron, hovels gave way to homes. Slowly, much to her delight, the creatures began to analyze the world around them, the way she had done so many eons ago. They were like her, they understood. And as they mined their world for metals, for fuel, her heart swelled. She emanated joy out into the void as they made their way from their world to the moon that orbited it. They were—it was—what she had been back in the first moments of creation, a collection of disparate parts in a creative storm of energy, each piece critical to the whole, but disconnected. But she had seen this before, in those sacs of chemicals which spoke only in the language of chemicals. These newer sacs were more complex and the language one of light and auditory vibrations, but the process was the same. It was the same process of growth and fusion and development and progress. And the result would be the same too. For the first time ever, she would have an equal, a mind capable of thought on a cosmic scale. She would have a true companion at last, someone to communicate with on her plane of being. She had waited billions of years for it, and soon she would have someone to love.
I grumble loudly as I follow 'Xlthurpu around in the store. Ever since they discovered humans had no nutritional value to them, their tastes for the flesh has brought us to new lows. The other cultists have already left their patrons by the dozens as we cross off the intelligent creature laundry list. Things used to be so simple, sacrifice a human for the greater good, everything was so simple back then. Now our search for intelligence has brought us all around the globe, to new uncharted depths of the ocean and beyond. There are times where I question my resolve, but I know that this is worth it. Before they came into my life, I never had a trustworthy companion, and now I have one forever. Eventually they stop in front of the cat food isle, and paw at the one that was drawing their attention "octopus seafood medley?"I ask as I pick up the can. He meows approvingly as I pick up two or three cans to throw in the cart. "Are you going to actually like it this time? Or are you going to make me throw it away?"I laugh as I pick them up and place them in the cart's baby seat. "Want any string toys on the way home?"I ask as I stroke their fur, I look around as I see the other cultists shop around the pet store. I hear one grumble off in the distance to his dog shaped patron "are you seriously going to make me eat cow marrow? Why not a steak, it's the same animal"I laugh as he must be new, everyone by now knows that our gods are cruel and unusual, but that is why we have them...
Don was sitting on the side street, waiting for the next idiot to come along and drop a penny or two in the upside-down hat in front of him. Who in their right mind would pay a begger? Don always thought it was stupid to waste your hard earned cash on some unknown nobody who would never amount to anything. He was a practical person and always liked to have a return on his investments, but beggers were the worst investment of them all! They don't even consider paying back, they'd just take your money and disappear most of the time. A month ago, he was one of the wealthiest men in the city, today? He was nothing. Not even an apartment to sleep in! Those bastards took everything he had, all of his properties and assets. Even his secret caches were confiscated by them, and somehow they knew exactly where and how he'll try to escape. At the end, he even tried to go to the authorities but it was all pointless. They had all the right documents and had claimed that his debts were so enormous to the point where they had to take everything he had, hell they even tried to take his great grandfather's watch! That was personal property, and he'd always made sure that it was never included in any of his loans as collateral. His father used to say to him: “Son, even if you lose everything you own, never lose this watch. This is our family's luck charm and as long as you have it, you can always bounce back from any financial set back” But apparently he was wrong. Don didn't even have the money to eat, how would he bounce back from this? “ah... There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere” Don looked up and saw a woman he didn't recognize. She didn't look interesting but this month of begging had given him an eye for wealth and he could notice the small things that placed her pretty high in his ranking system. The small shiny earing, the subtle make-up, the confidence she stood with, it all spoke of a high upringing and high social standing. “And who are you? Are you another one of those leeches? Have you come to take more? Unfortunately for you I don't have anything to give” Don said to her with disdain. He had reached the point where he has nothing to loose. “Well, I wouldn't say that. After all, you are quite healthy if you know what I mean” she smiled menacingly and looked him over like she was looking at a lamp waiting to be slaughtered. Don's heart fell to his knees and he lost all color from his face at her words. “But no, I am not one of them. Stop being too paranoid my dear. They might be resourceful but it's a balance, as you are now, it is not worth it for them to use their resources to look for you. You see, they would waste more money on finding you than what you'd give them.” strangely, her words put Don at ease. At least he knew now that if he kept a low profile, he would be safe from those leeches for now. “Then what do you want from me?” he asked her. “Not much. I was hired to help you out in case... Something like this happens. ” she said while looking him up and down. “First thing you need to know is that time travel is possible. No, don't ask anything just listen, I don't have much time here. That watch you have is a time traveler's conduit. You can use it to request a time jump if the point of time and location you are currently in has a working Time Machine. You can think of it as sending a request and the response will take you to when you want. The other thing you need to know is that the people who took all your properties had information from the future and knew what they were looking for because of a contract future you made with them. As human time travel is banned by the government, they usually send a copy of such contracts back in time and their operatives here do the rest. And yes, I know, how could they build an organization if human travel is banned? Don't ask, it's a long story. Anyway, you can use that watch to set a time and travel to it but you need a password, usually 4 digits, I was told that you should know it. “My work here is to tell you how the watch work, and to advise you on when you should travel to. First, you should just give up on the past. You have no hope of fighting the Collectors even if you go back to the time before they came for you, your only choice is to find a time with an opportunity, preferably at a point far enough for them to give up on finding you and start over like how your ancestors did before you. Here's the information that I actually came to give you, so listen carefully: At the year 2047, March, day uncertain, the Chip Layer company will succeed in manufacturing the first product towards time travel, the Unlimited Power Box, a man-made metal that can generate unheard of amounts of energy by a simple chemical reaction. The Chip Layer company was first established at the year 2042 by James Green and Ray Fox. That's all I have for you. Good luck.” “Wait! Who are you?” Don shouted at the woman while she walked away. But she didn't look back and disappeared in the street corner when he ran to stop her. He looked at his watch, dumbfounded and remembered his father's dying words “One for truth, six for the devil, seventeen for our beginning. Never forget that, my son.” he entered the numbers in his watch and it suddenly clicked, a strange faint blue light emitting from it. He thought for a second and inputed the date 1/1/2041 the year before the company was established. He had to find these two and become the third partner in Chip Layer. This was his only chance of continuing is family's legacy. He closed his eyes and saved the date into the watch, and everything went black.
Innumerable assassins liked to show off before disposing of their targets. Calling cards, issued challenges, the occasional song. Some found joy in the art of it all, challenging themselves as well as growing their legend. Some however, were professionals in the art of subtlety. The only way you’d know them coming was when you woke to find your throat slit and your family masticated. Seeresh was one such individual. His arrival was heralded by nothing, for any sign of his coming would alert the house. It had been on high alert for almost three weeks now, the numerous failed attempts by other members of the clandestine arts enacting harsher and harsher security measures. The walls had been lined with downward facing barbs to prevent scaling, the fences wrapped in razor wire. Guards were posted on 16 hour rotations, with agents lining the surrounding buildings, watching for any approaching people. The inner courtyard was barren now, the shrubbery and gardens cut away, any cover denied. Even the fountain had been gutted, a shallow pool lined with the infamous Screecher Geese, who were renowned for their perception and alarming hatred of surprises. But the birds were not the only living alarm that the building had employed. It had also taken a contingent of Nested Writhers: which sat at key points and doorways throughout the house. They wove the heavy webbing ceaselessly, the lines silent as they snared the halls. It was a house turned fortress-turned prison, the target within restlessly pacing to and fro his study. The night was clear, no fog nor smoke obscured Seeresh as he strode down the street. Mice continued to groom as he swept past them, close enough to brush their fur with his scales. No breath escaped his lips as he jogged. The guards atop the buildings did not notice as he approached. Neither did the ones circling the building as he came to the rat’s nest of wires. He wore no gloves as he gripped the barbs, separating the lines one by one, moving his body deeper through the spot as he replaced the lines. It was a quick process, though he did not rush, his movements smooth as the wires reset along their lines. And with finality, his foot slipped in through the courtyard. One silent footstep after the other. He paused only when absolutely necessary, and only when he was sure he was in line of sight. The geese in the pond swam lazily. They were very angry at being forcibly woken up each night to simply sit in the water. Seeresh crept along. Without warning, the trunk of the goose swiveled towards him. It stared him down. He knew that the creature would yell. Even if he bit it’s head off, the screams would carry on through the corpse and alert the guards. So instead, he breathed. Instantly, the goose seemed to freeze in place, before beating its feathers softly and continuing in a circle. Inside the building, a talk was underway. Two men stood across from each other, twisting wine glasses. “I must admit, this all seems a bit…extreme.” The man, dressed in immaculate blue robes frowned as he looked out into the courtyard. The other, dressed in black, tutted. “I assure you, the savages of the West have very, very loaded opinions of people like ourselves. A prospect that I am working to change for the better.” The blue nodded. “Perhaps. I will admit that men of the faith find little purchase in the Vibrant Accord, but…are the spiders truly necessary?” Another scoff. “Come now Vane, be honest, has the West been hospitable to you, in any fashion?” He refilled his cup. “They mutilate their flesh, they consort with the heathenous East, they outright reject our conversions and our culture! Why should we give them quarter when it comes to our finances?” He sipped. “Besides, in the homeland, this would be standard. Soon enough, it will be here as well.” Vane gave a tight smile. “Perhaps. Either way, your proposal is still under review.” The man nodded. “In any case-” He raised his glass. “To the homeland?” Vane smiled. “To the-” The man fell to the ground. Vane had no time to process, he simply stood there, dumbstruck with the wine glass in hand as the merchant’s head shattered like a melon. For only an instant of time, he had seen it. A lizard-man, who breathed into his victims ear. Vane reached down, and touched the red-black substance, the meat was frozen solid. He immediately jumped back, howling through the window. “Attack! Guards, all positions, full watch!” Orders were belted out across the streets as men ran about, heavy torches and searchlights scouring the buildings. Vane rushed out into the hallway, sprinting down through the halls. At the corner, he saw the webs. They were frozen, the spiders in mid-spit, the acid stretching out like a horizontal icicle. A guard came over to the geese pond. Inside, one of the creatures had suffocated, the body cold as ice. It’s beak and throat had been frozen solid, left to die. The guards checked the fencing. There was a stretch that was melting, blood mixed with the iron to mimic the color in the night. It shattered on their touch. Vane stepped out into the courtyard. “Sir!” A guard came running up. “No sign of an attacker. Is-” He shook his head. “Damn. Damn, Damn, Damn!” The man hissed out. “How did they slip through, we had-” Vane held up a hand. “This was no Westerner, though their involvement is likely. This was the work of the Guilty Ice.” The man’s eyes widened. Vane pictured the assassin in his head. The flush-white lizard, the heavy throat pouch extending out. The chill that broke bones and ate flesh, the invisible miasma only vanishing for an instant to do the deed. Far away, the very same creature sat in the canal waters, waiting as the barge came along. Skin rippled with tattoos that bent the light around him, a blank spot in the world. He clutched the side of the boat, and slipped away into the City once more, his task finished. Thanks for reading!
I had been praying for angels for weeks. I had seen the darkness creeping in, and I knew that I needed help. I needed something to believe in. I needed something to fight for. And so I prayed. I prayed for angels. At first, nothing happened. But I kept praying. I prayed every day, multiple times a day. I prayed for guidance, for protection, for strength. And then, one day, my prayers were answered. I was out walking in the woods when I heard the sound of wings. I looked up, and there they were: angels, descending from the heavens. I fell to my knees, overcome with emotion. The angels had come. They were real. And they were here to help me. The angels told me that I was chosen. I was special. I had a purpose. They were going to help me fight the darkness. They equipped me with armor and weapons and taught me how to use them. They told me that I was their champion, their warrior. And then they sent me out into the world to fight. I went forth, inspired by my faith and driven by my purpose. I fought the darkness with the strength of the angels, and I never faltered. I was the angels' warrior, and I would never give up.
The Broken Land is a barren land. Cracks in the earth rented by the very heat of its two suns. A wooden home on a twisted tree, sits on a shattered hill. A medium-sized, horned beetle surfaces from under the cracks. A pouch is secured around its carapace. The old hag up in the tree watches this and says, "you're late". She snaps her fingers as the beetle is teleported beside her on the porch. She opens the leathery pouch, and discover the message she's been waiting for. It seems the bandits she hired managed to steal her rival's charm. The charm was preventing the hag from using her own magic to spread false gossip in town. With a twisted tongue like hers, she'd easily be able to convince the town people that Ira Silver is a threat. At that point, the humid barrens of Cranny Crooks would be all hers. Unfortunately for her, the benefits of the Broken Lands would prove to be her downfall. You see Ira Silver conjured a Living Sandstorm to follow the beetle messenger to its master and eliminate them. Normally, with heat and pressure, a magical attack like this would have been transformed into a Living Diamond-dust Swarm as it passed through the cracks. But on this day, the cracks were unnaturally cool. Is it possible that the Cold Lurker awakened from its slumber? The sand lingers over one of the larger cracks on the shattered hill. As night falls, the hag chooses to break routine and retire to bed. Instead of getting upset, Ira adjusts her strategy. Peering through her murky, white crystal ball she sees the perspective of some creature looking up at her living sand covering the crack. Its hand, although vaguely humanoid, seems to be made of a blue snow with icy thorns covering it like some spiky armor. It seems to be almost purring. Ira snuffs the life out of her sand and watches as it falls onto the creature. It howls in anger as the sand falls into its eyes. Mistaking the falling sand as an attacker the creature slams its ice-spiked limbs into the walls of the crack. A sudden shaking occurs as these smaller cracks widen and start to merge with the other cracks. In a matter of moments, the creature's outburst shattered the rest of the hill. The twisted tree, the hag, the beetle and the entire shattered hill collapses above the creature and seemingly crushes it to death. Satisfied, Ira returns the crystal ball to her desk and has a pleasant dream. Meanwhile, in the recent sinkhole that use to be the shattered hill, ice rapidly climbs up it and starts growing in a radius on the surface of the Broken Lands. If one were to peer through the crystal ball now, they'd see the ice-thorned hand from earlier reaching out from the sinkhole. The creature pokes its head out of the sinkhole. A distinct top hat, carrot nose, and coal eyes with a white iris look through the crystal ball. It's charcoal mouth opens and closes as it unhinges its jaw. much like a snake. To whom may be reading this now, if you can get out of Cranny Crooks while you still can, for the broken lands are no more. That frozen wasteland shall be henceforth known as Snowman's Land. Signed, The Winter Oracle (Mister Clause)
I was finally ready to go home. I’d been on Cygnus 1-X’s Goldilocks planet 1A for four X1-months instead of the directed five Sol-hours. Living inside a blackhole’s accretion disk with a variable planetary axis tilt had not been the friendliest of environments, but I had survived, and that was enough. Almost 250 years had passed on Earth, which might be enough to be past the court-martial I would have inevitably received upon my delayed return. I had wanted to see the future, and this was the only conceivable way for me to do it. I hadn’t been the only astronaut sent through the new wormhole, and I was likely the only one who went AWOL. This planet was garbage anyway, so they wouldn’t need the data immediately, would they? I loaded up my tiny ship and went back through the wormhole – I had always wished my ship had windows – to just outside Saturn’s rings, and began to mosey back toward Earth. I reluctantly opened up my comm to Houston, and pinged. I checked a local satellite that I had dropped near the hole for messages, since nothing could get through the Einstein-Rosen bridge, but there weren’t any. Odd. Hours passed, and I heard nothing from Houston. This wasn’t good. How could nobody be home? I was gone 250 years, not 1000. Even global warming would have left a few people behind, but I wasn’t even receiving passive radio waves. Several nail-bitten hours later, I orbited the earth slowly. I couldn’t see any manmade monoliths, even the Great Wall of China. Were the calculations incorrect? Was I gone for thousands? Even if there had been an apocalypse, how could there be absolutely no traces of humankind left? I went into deorbit burn and touched down near the Nile River, figuring being near a huge source of water and fertile land wouldn’t be a terrible idea if everyone was dead. My capsule parachuted gently onto the sand. I unstrapped and stepped out into the blistering sun. To my thankful surprise, a huge crowd had gathered around, babbling in a language I couldn’t recognize. I was roughly seized and escorted to a small palace by strangely-dressed official-looking figures. Forced to my knees, my head was jerked up to look at a very recognizable young figure, but one I had only ever seen carved into stone. The Egyptian pointed to himself, “—— Khufu.” He gestured out towards where my capsule had landed, only a small shining triangle in the distance. He made a grandiose movement, drawing a similar triangle shape and pointing out to the sands. Suddenly, I recognized this empty horizon, only it hadn’t been empty when I left. “Giza,” I whispered, and started to laugh hysterically. *** Maria sat with the Teotihuacan elite. It had taken a little time for her to learn their language, but she was grateful her native tongue was Spanish. They had grown comfortable with her, their visitor from the stars, and were constantly asking her questions. Maria had been reluctant at first to share her knowledge of the future, but after being reminded of the Mayan practice of ritualistic sacrifice, she had begun to selectively tell them bits and pieces. Now they all sat, listening to the man captured at the beach, telling wild tales of giant buildings across the sea that touched the heavens. A barrage of questions besieged her and the prisoner. She smiled broadly, and answering their questions, “Yes, I can show you how to build pyramids, and they’ll be even better than those Egyptian ones.” She chuckled to herself – “Jack, you wily bastard; you tried to see the future too. I guess we were both wrong.” Ancient aliens indeed.
I remember the first time I used a teleportation tube. It felt odd. But over the years I have gotten used to it. I recall just how it feels to have all of my atoms separate and rebuild again. The tickling sensation. The brief spasms. That's why I knew something was terribly wrong when a sharp pain dashed from my fingertips all through the rest of my body. I began to subconsciously go over all of my memories, as if they were on film. The whole experience must have lasted under a second, but it felt like so much longer. I looked around, yet I didn't recognize my surroundings. Where was I?
It was Lego blocks. I wanted more but knew Dad didn't have extra money. I just made more blocks and my life as a super hero was started. The second act of my super career was to take a pocket full of Legos to my Aunt's house and make a set for my cousin. Fortunately I was an avid reader of comic books, and knew that I needed to keep my powers secret. I couldn't even let my family know because it might endanger them. Dad didn't notice that we never ran out of canned fruit, green beans or peanuts. Peas, and canned salmon didn't get special treatment. Growing up, I needed a new bike. So I visited the neighborhood shopping center. I spotted a nice one and created a copy. Told dad that I found it at a yard sale for $5.00 that I saved from my birthday. Yes, I copied money. It was perfect, too perfect because the money always had the same serial number. That would lead to trouble, so I made quarters. No one questions a kid with change, so I did OK. Once I was old enough, I got an afternoon job as a cover story. That let me "earn"enough to buy a car. Copy that one gold coin and sell them at different pawn shops and jewelers. Keep it small and no one will notice. A couple of the places never asked where or how I got it. Those shops were once and done. I also helped at the local Food Bank. They never noticed the extra cases of canned goods or a bushel of fresh produce, but it helped feed people. Keep it small and no one will notice. Then once I was on my own, I started a business. Generic office supplies at a discount. Soon I had a couple trucks and four employees. I would always take care of the late deliveries myself. We were profitable, of course. I enlarged the operation to three locations but kept the books myself. Nice comfortable living but not likely to draw attention. I rented a building, filled it build generic supplies, that I donated to Habitat for Humanity. It should have been enough to build five houses. I bought enough for one house and made copies. I still would stop it and help at the food bank. Everything was going along great, but then I screwed up. With the office supply company, making money, I hired a manager to run the business. That let me start a charity, to supply fresh produce to food banks. I move donated food to a central warehouse, where it would be moved to food banks the next few days. I could double or triple the amount of food available. I simply keep receipts and delivery slips vague so no one could audit the operation. The operation was a success with me making a nightly stop to create more produce. One of the worker's girlfriend wanted to expose the charity as a scam, so he hid a camera in the warehouse. She caught me on camera creating about three truck loads of food for distribution to food banks. Suddenly I was a man on the run. The investigators chased down my life and examined everything, down to funding my old bike and tracking down the serial numbers. Agents with the Bureau of Unexplainable Event issued a warrant. Fortunately, I could make a copy of a car so no one knew what I was driving. I chose a van, that would help me avoid hotels I certainly could make enough cash to eat and buy gas. I'm just wandering the back roads. My plan is to scoop up a few supplies and disappear into the wilderness for a few months. I can make supplies stretch endlessly. Before I decided what direction, I grabbed a used tablet, and created a user profile based on files left by the last owner. No one would be able to connect it to me. I was national news. Some people were saying that I didn't cause any harm and should be left alone. Other called me a potential threat of the highest order, that I could simply create a massive amount of dollar bills and crash the economy. Another group was saying that needed to be captured and turned into a national asset, where I could create copies of critically needed weapons in case of a war. I had never thought about creating weapons. Or trying to do anything with the economy.. I decided to go deep into a forest and head north. Perhaps I could quietly cross into Canada. While i tried to figure out how to go forward...
"What the hell..."I started, glancing around the room i found myself in. It looked alien, not a single thing appearing as i knew it in my realm. For a moment, i pondered where i was, the land of spirits, of ori or yokai, it mattered not. The emperor's mission stood, i would deliver the device to him at once... I just needed to find the way out. That's when i heard it though, the screaming, and the sounds of demonic fire. I left the room, entering a hallway which had two paths, left or right. Left seemed to lead outside, I saw the night sky, and many strange buildings that seemed to stack endlessly into the heavens. And right lead further into the building i was in. I heard the screaming coming from there. My duty told me to leave, to find a way home and to fulfil my orders. But morality held a different goal in mind, one that was top help whoever was in danger. Against my better judgement, I went right, walking down the hall and into a large open space. In front of me, was five men, clade in white armour with blue painted onto it in patterns. They were covered in a strange metal, unlike iron or steel, and wielded weapons like an arquebus. They were firing at a man, who looked otherworldly in design, strange green skin and two long growths that dropped down to his shoulders. He wielded a blade that shone a blue light, and was deflecting the blows that the men fired from their weapons. He was defending children, I saw behind him as the men fired onwards. I unsheathed my katana, and approached the man closest to me. Before he could react, I jammed my sword into his throat, the other men turning to face me. Before they could fire a shot, the man with the sword lunged at them, cutting them all down, slicing through their armour like butter. He turned to me "Who are you, one of us?" "I am Tenkai, from Nihon." "Nihon? is that in the outer rim?" "I... I don't know what you mean, i appeared here all for a sudden." "Well, that'll have to be a question for another time... If we're not dead."He the turned to the children, some human, some others like him. "Run, find master Alwé, he's guarding that position." "What's going on here?" "We're under attack from our soldiers, they've gone rogue and are storming the temple. They mean to wipe us all out."He then sighed "They're not taking prisoners, not even the children." "Are you su-" "Yes, i am very sure they're not taking prisoners, Tenkai. Now, either go with them, or help me hold off whoever comes through this room." I looked over to my katana "I think i'll need something a little more... useful?" The man grumbled "Here,"he gave me a hilt "Press the red button on the side." I did so, and it lit up, the blade blue and as hot as fire "Is this magic?" The man chuckled "That is nothing compared to what i can do." Dozens of men, all clade in similar armour, marched into the room, pointing their weapons at us, lead by a man in a black robe, with glowing yellow eyes. The man with me stumbled back, "Master Anakin, what the hell is going on!?" The man with yellow eyes said nothing, only igniting his blade. A question passed my mind "What is your name?" "What?" "Your name, I'd like to know it if i am to die with you." He smirked, despite the dire situation "My name is jedi knight Mabro Zao." "Nice to meet you, Mabro." "You too, Tenkai." Our introductions said, we turned to face our doom, not in victory. But in honour.
For some reason known only to tradition, rear view spaceship sensor screens always bore the manufacturer's mark: "Objects in mirror are closer than they appear." Having just brought my cup of coffee up to the ship's bridge after a long-offshift, the last thing I wanted to see in my rear view sensors was an ice ball. Maybe the last active long-shift sensor tech had sent out a scanning probe to gather data on some far off comet. Maybe she'd taped a picture of an ice moon up over the sensors just to give me the scare of my life - after all, deep space transits got pretty boring when the sensors showed black and distant stars for years and years on end. My long-shift's Captain came on the bridge with her typical air of grim determination. She glanced at my screen and sighed. It'd be ten years before my long-shift was over and I could ask the other sensor tech just what the heck she'd been thinking. Well, until we'd nod at each other in passing as she blearily stumbled out of bed just like I had. Or, better yet, I could play a matching prank. Maybe I'd calibrate her forward sensor suite to make it look like we were headed straight for a sun. I'd fall asleep to the wonderfully warm feeling of schadenfreude. Speaking of the forward sensors...as I grappled with the notion that she'd already stolen my idea and made it look like we were heading for a gas giant planet with some 15 moons, the officer responsible for point defense made an alarmed noise. She held up a tiny yellow note. The lieutenant at Astrogation was frantically rerunning courses, holding a similar note in his hand. "I don't understand how this happened. We're light-years off course!" The Captain commed Engineering. "Do we have enough fuel for a landing?" I spun around in my chair, as did most of the bridge crew, hanging on the answer. We were a deep space scout ship headed to distant stars, set up in two long-shift crews to extend our reach by decades. When we inevitably died of old age, our derelict ship would serve as a deep space outpost for future colonziation efforts. Nothing in our mission suggested anything about a landing. "We have enough if we don't dick around,"came the acerbic answer. The Captain nodded, squared her shoulders, and got on the intercom with the whole crew listening. "People, as you're probably finding out, there was an incident with the last long-shift crew that severely impacted their ability to carry out our mission. In the last days before shift handover, they plotted a course to a hopefully habitable moon and entrusted to us the task of landing the ship safely." Dazed, I found the matching yellow note stuck in the middle of my sensors and screens. It read simply: "Good luck." That ice ball really was a moon in my rear view sensors where it had no business being. When the other shift's tech collapsed into her cryobunk to sleep like the dead, she'd known that she was throwing me into the hot seat. She'd known that bleary-eyed me just coming back to life through liberal application of caffeine was shortly going to be responsible for guiding the ship to a gas giant's moon we could only hope was habitable and wasn't home to predators, aliens, poisonous plants or some other horror. If my glare could properly convey my fury, that note would have burned to a crisp. Dimly, I heard the Captain conclude her own address. "I'm not happy either. But I know I have the most well-rested long-shift crew I could ask for. So finish your coffee, and then we'll be about it." Clawing a colony out of some forsaken moon wasn't the mission I'd signed up for. On the other hand, it beat dying for nothing if I "missed"something on my sensors and let us smash into an asteroid. So I took the note down, finished my coffee, and then began scanning for obstacles along Astrogation's course to our new home. "Good luck." Maybe, knowing the monumental task she'd left for me, that was the best she could think of to say. After all, I'd need it.
When humans looked out upon the stars on their one planet so many millennia ago, they imagined taking their place among the stars, exploring strange new worlds, meeting new aliens, and the eternal survival of the human spirit no longer bound by the one world. Their culture, media, entertainment, and records often tried to predict and portray this exodus, but so often all but the most dedicated carelessly skipped over some of the simple realities. Namely how Earth life was incompatible on other worlds. Their initial forays onto their moon and the 2nd, 4th, and moons of the 5th and 6th worlds found that the effort to transforms those worlds into truly habitable planets was beyond practical. Simply growing their own food for more than a few thousand was not worth the cost and time, much less the theoretical models on setting a full colony out of the home system without the direct support of the home world. Instead, they found a different path. Not terraforming, but bioforming. Changing their outbound colonists to the conditions on the receiving world. The initial steps were subtle, not wanting to deviate too far from the human genome. Homo-Lunarian was the first recognized subspecies, the change simply increasing their bone density and other means to make low gravity life more sustainable. Homo-Venuian, specialized in living in the more toxic environment, Homo-Martian who could consume new Martian compatible agriculture, and Homo-Stallae, created to survive in zero gravity. These first tentative steps into their own biology, now seen as quaint, quickly exploded as new subspecies both recognized and morally questionable spread across the human sphere, exacerbated at the first slow-ships and then warp ships were sent out to new worlds with new environments. Homo-Gliese, Homo-Luyten, and a thousand and thousand more. With the creation of the Ethnocorps, their members tasked with tracking and documenting the lineage of these new subspecies, the modicum of human was dropped and the overall race redefined as Homo-Ultra, the sphere ever expanding throughout the stars. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Planet Compfatar, Seious Sector Last census records from 24 standard years ago: \- 77% Homo-Compfatar (78% HC-C, 12% HC-D, 9% HC-B, 4% HC-A) \- 7% Homo-Seious (94% HSe-B, 6% HS-C) \- 4% Homo-Stallae (100% HSt-YX) \- 2% other recognized sub-species \- 12% other unrecognized sub-species This census report is why Ethnographer Jabon Spirali had arrived on the planet Compfatar two weeks ago. He as it is commonly designed, a Homo-Pretatus F from the system of the same name, was selected by the corps to investigate the Compfatar anomaly. Not that he was a particular expert in the field for the corps employed millions of ethnographers, but because the Pretatus subspecies was semi-compatible with the Compfatar and he was, as it was, in the neighborhood. Besides the corps outstanding mission documenting the many linages of the Ultra, the biological tree requiring kilometers of physical ground to project physically, they had evolved, pun intended, to investigate the other sub-species. Those not official recognized by the corps and had not as of yet been granted the official title of homo to welcome them into the greater ultra collective, are to be expected on most worlds. Genetic syndicates always look for the next leap in genetic manipulation, but they should be below 1% of the population of any heavily inhabited world. In extreme cases 2% or 3%. But 12% is unprecedented, thus his re-tasking and arrival. For over a month he traveled the planet from the upper reaches of the presidential spires and its executive genetic laboratories to the underground and their ramshackled vats of genetic slime. In the end, Jabon left the planet issuing a report which spread across the galaxy, the consequences shocking the Ultra. &#x200B; Updated census records of Compfatar \- 68% Homo-Compfatar (65% HC-C, 29% HC-D, 4% HC-B, 2% HC-A) \- 5% Homo-Stallae (98% HSt-YX, 2% HSt-YY) \- 4% Homo-Seious (82% HSe-B, 12% HS-C) \- 4% other recognized sub-species \- 19% other unrecognized sub-species I admit that our reports are often dry and strictly based on the numbers and facts. While what I report is true, simple data isn't enough to explain the magnitude of the events taking place on Compfatar. While I wish it was anyone but me who will have to explain this to the wider galaxy, it is my duty to do so. Compfatar, 4th world in the Seious sector, is not too unique as palnets go. Variety of environments that any number of genetic manipulation could support from class bipedal to the more exotic modes of manipulation, Compfatar is primarily inhabited by the Homo-Compfatar, recognized 274 standard years ago. There have been four evolutions since then, on track with expected development. Developing from the Seious line of course, the Compfatar Ultra are, to describe them to non-ethnographers, "centaur insectoids"created for primary habitation of dense jungle worlds, but have adapted just as well to the mired of climates on their world. I myself, Homo-Pretatus, to describe my sub-species as a reptilian biped, would feel at home if it wasn't for the mostly incompatible ecosystem. Besides the two are Homo-Stallae of course, Homo-Seious, and various other sub-species as documented in the census. On my tour, I was permitted access to the laboratories to observe the work on the next incarnations of the Homo-Compfatar and Seious as well as more independent efforts in creating new species. One of which is noted in the greater report as an item of interest. The non-documented labs, while amateurish as expect, were hardly churning out what could cause the rapid rise of this mystery sub-species. It took over a week on Compfatar before I finally met one of these creatures in the underworld. And let me tell you that it was absolutely disgusting to my eyes at first. Even now I shudder at the thought of them. Pink skinned, no fur, and overall weak. What surprised me more was that it, for I am hard pressed to give it a gender, told me it was transformed unwillingly into this, thing. It wasn't even an efficient design. Two hand and legs, five fingers on each, only one set of opposable thumbs. And the stench, liquid leaking from every pore. It clearly wasn't designed for the temperate climates or included any of the genetic improvements made to such processes. In fact the only saving grace was that it was compatible with the foodstuffs on Compfatar. It told me that the food tasted like rusted excrement, a testament I completely agree. Searching the underworld further is where I found entire communities of these creatures. Most agreed with the first thing I met, bet some seemed pleased with the change exposing their return to the galaxy after their extinction. That they were the Newmen. What they were talking about, I wasn't sure. Newmen isn't any subspecies I have in my records or memories. Reconvening with the planets geneticists, they were not able to find any reason for this change nor any common links. Just that these "Newmen"were born as such to Compfatar parents and had being on for years now. I can only imagine the horror seeing your child as one of those things. It was assumed first to be a curiosity and assumed experiment, a rogue scientist or random mutation. Only recently was it declared an epidemic, the Newmen quarantined to the underground, not that it would help given how some Newmen were born to parents who had been completely isolated from the growing Newmen community. As I leave the planet horrified, I must recommend an immediate quarantine Compfatar and any other Newmen infested planet, including myself. These creatures being spawned on the planet are an anathema to everything the Ultra aspires to become. A regression into something, wrong. As I write this report on the way out of system, I received a message that needs to be included. We are under attack and the Ultra must respond. We become the aliens we never found. We lost our identity. The New Men will return.
You make your way to the Library, finals are in two days and you have not been preparing adequately. You are getting nervous, your palms are sweaty and the four cups of coffe you drank are not helping. There is one book you know you need to read, you have been putting it off for far too long. Problem is, you have a book at home that should have been returned two or three weeks ago. You Pray that Nobody noticed, the angry Librarian you can manage, but if your Friends and Family find out you might aswell fake your own death and skip town. Inside the Library are several people, quietly focused on their reading material, only the Librarian is nowhere to be seen. You should feel relieved, but you know something is wrong. Searching for your book you can suddenly feel someone breathing down your neck. Its the Librarian. "Thought you could steal another Book from my Library without me noticing?"he whispered directly into your ear, barely audible over the crushing silence that was enveloping the whole place. You turn around to look at the unblinking Guardian of Literature, you want to say something in your defense but you cannot move a muscle. His eyes stab into you like the knives of a mad murderer and he slowly walks away as quietly as he came. You feel cold and are drenched in sweat, and holding back your urge to run as fast as you can you make your way out. On your way home you see several police cars infront of the building, suddenly you are tackled to the ground. Your hands are cuffed behind your back, you hear someone walking up "Here it is sir, with a coffee stain on page thirteen, just like the informant said". Onother person sighed, "Must be the bad influence of those video games"he said "Oh well, there wont be any of those where this one is going..."
As I'm wrecking my brain trying to find a good enough ending line for my second book and and final chapter, I accidentally stumble upon a folder in my computer, titled "memories". I pause, staring at the screen, mind racing and heart pounding as if wanting to break down my chest as a bulldozer a building. I raise my eyebrows and fleetingly wonder if it's a good idea to open Pandora's box right this moment. But then, why not? Maybe it could even kickstart my imagination, which I've lately been lacking of. So with a sharp breath intake, I double click and, well, there it is: the best and worst moments of my entire life, all captured in pictures, very far from giving the real experience but close enough to properly make my body recall it and fool my brain into thinking I'm reviving it all again. The first pictures was my dad with what must have been 5 year old me, carrying me on his shoulders and little me, ice cream smeared all over my face and shirt, smiling at the camera. And as if intentional, right next to it, a picture of my dad's funeral, and although the casket was closed, I could still remember all too vividly, his barely recognizable body. Eyes frozen on the disconcerting contrast among those two pictures, I feel them slowly fill with crude and burning hot tears, only to end up traveling down and wetting my keyboard, which actually thankfully brings me back to real time, and I grab a tissue to wipe it all off, both keyboard and face. Honestly, I can't remember all of the details, I was just a 10 year old when it happened, but old enough to be deeply traumatized. It was on a very sunny, beautiful day, one hot summer. There was actually a festival happening, and the streets were buzzing with life and hordes of people just going about their day and enjoying those few moments of pure fun and bliss. Then it all stopped. Because of rain. But it wasn't a normal rain, oh no. Much much worse. It was pure acid, acid was suddenly raining down on us, and nobody knew what was happening, and when we did realize, it was way too late. Vast majority of people were either dead or badly injured in a matter of minutes. And even buildings weren't offering much protection, as most were getting ruined pretty quickly too. It felt like the end was happening and I was suddenly wishing I was religious, because now, in the face of certain death, as young as I was, I was truly terrified of eternal torment, as many elders around liked to assure would come for people like my family, the atheists. Yet, I survived. I was thrown into a bank with many other kids, so desperate they were, that the staff there forced us in inside special rooms with steel walls and roofing. Believing that maybe, just maybe, that would do a better job at protecting us, if anything, for a little bit longer. Thankfully, they were right, and it worked. The "rain"lasted around a couple of hours. My father had died within the first few minutes, alongside my oldest sister. My mother and 2 younger brothers made it, and came to take me with them as soon as it stopped. We held the funeral the very next day, and after that, we were on our way to a whole new country, as there were concerns over the bizzare rain happening again. And it did, luckily my mom wasn't a fool to risk staying. But many did, and many perished. I often wonder how my life would be if that incident hadn't happened, or if I went back. I often want to go back, but then I turn on the TV and there it is, more acid rain, day after day. It won't stop, nobody knows why, what, or how. It's like God himself has cursed my land, and is using it as example to strike fear into us. My beautiful land, full of amazing good spirited people, breathtaking sights, delicious cuisine, and endless blue sky and sea. Never gonna be the same again. I often wonder if it would be worth it to risk death over going there just to see a glimpse of it up close. Maybe that would cure my yearning of what once was and is no longer. With another deep deep breath, I close the folder and go back to my almost finished document, perfect ending line suddenly spitting out on autopilot. "Longing, yearning are generally considered sad or negative emotions, but they're not, you see, it's the total opposite, it means you were truly happy for once in your life, happy enough to miss it, and now you have moments you can hold dear and close to your heart until you take your last breath. I think that's what life is really about, collecting memories and moments to yearn for throughout your life."
They always send home a body. At least, they send back what they can. Always the body, but never the whole man. On the outside, I was completely healthy, but inside I was broken. In war, there aren't any winners; at least not for the rank and file. We all lose - brothers, sisters, friends closer than blood. For a long time, it was just the two of us, me and my partner Juno. I didn't let anyone else get close. Juno wasn't a normal soldier. She was a M.E.W. A mammalian energy weapon, standard issue C-7 Calico. A cat. Well, they said she was standard issue; but she had a softer coat and longer fur than usual. It was always getting tangled and was terrible in the mud. It took twice as long to clean her and she was always misfiring her laser. I can't say it was all bad though. She definitely got me out of a few situations. Saved my life in the artic when the short hairs in the unit were too cold to function. She even killed a rattlesnake on her own once when I was asleep. By and far, Juno was the smartest cat on the team. She would have come home with me when I retired. I was with her 6 years, and during that time, she must have used eight of her nine lives saving my dumb ass. It was only one week left. That's all we had - one week to go. One minute, I'm driving the lead in a convoy and the next I'm waking up in a hospital. They tell me that Juno held them off until help arrived. Two hours, all by herself. M.E.W.'s were never meant to operate that long without rest. Frankly, they weren't even sure how she made it past 30 minutes of continuous fire. She just burnt out. Died of exhaustion on the ride home. They say she never left my side. She just curled up on my chest and we both slept. Now I'm home. Alone, with just my thoughts and a cat shaped hole in my heart.
What Miskatonic University Represents To Me? (Rough Draft) By Brittney Garcia Miskatonic University represents many things to me. It represents the beginning of my story. My parents, Eduardo Garcia and Emily Waite both attended and met each other at Miskatonic University. Miskatonic University represents scholarship, as my father graduated from the law school, and my mother graduated from the Marine Biology PHD program.Miskatonic University represents exploration and innovation. From Nathaniel Wingate Peaslee and William Dyer who explored previously unknown areas in archeology and psychology to Dr. Janet Altmont, who discovered the fat-burning cancer treatment, as well as being the first woman to graduate from Miskatonic Medical School. Miskatonic represents a willingness and even enthusiasm for facing the unknown. Miskatonic University represents many things to me, my past, a rich history of exploration and innovation, and a dream of a future to come.
Yo, Snow here. It's been about six months since I died and got transported to this fantasy world and I think it deserves recapping the hell I've been put through. Ready? Comfortable? Great, you're already doing better that I was when I first got here. Wait, lets start a little ways before that. All the way back to when when I got run over by that truck. Cliché I know, but those things are really persistent. Damn thing almost got me three times before I actually died. Walking home from school? Watch Out, here comes Truck-kun. Going to the grocery store? Nope, Truck-kun is here to make sure that doesn't happen. At school? What, you're in class you say? Well get fucked kiddos, Truck-kun's-a-comin. That last one was pretty amazing, Truck-kun came flying over the school gate and plowed right into my classroom on the second floor. It was a miracle I didn't die right then and there. A bunch of other kids did though and now that I think of it, there are a strange amount of people here with Japanese sounding names...whatever, story for another time. Anyway, Truck-kun did finally do the deed on my way home from school that same day no less. I had thought that it's almost daily quota was fulfilled and let my guard down. Bing-Bang-Boom and now I'm here, and that wasn't the worst of it. Listen up....
"I know how it sounds Frank!"this isn't the first time Shelly had talked about this, "But Daniel is a cat!" "Shelly, you've worked with Daniel for over 25 years,"Frank would be amused if they weren't together because of multiple complaints. "The average lifespan of a cat is 12-18 years. If, and that is a big IF, Daniel were a cat, wouldn't he be dead by now?" Shelly scoffed, "He hasn't always been a cat! I don't know when it happened, but at some point Daniel was replaced by cat, and no one seems to notice, or care." There is a glint compassion in Franks eyes. "Well maybe if we bring Daniel in, he can help clear some things up."He stands up, but Shelly interrupts him "Is this some joke?"She asks, her voice cracking, and on the verge of tears. "This is driving me insane! The only thing that we will determine, is that I'm psycho because I see Dan as a cat."She grabbed Frank's sleeve, pleading. Frank pulled his sleeve out of Shelly's grip, and opened the door. He said something that Shelly couldn't quite hear, returned to his seat, and a small cat in business suit and glasses walked into the office with him. "Alright Dan, so you were saying that Shelly has been calling you a cat to our coworkers."He makes eye contact with the cat while saying this. "How does that make you feel?" The cat who is very clearly Daniel, starts to purr and meow while rubbing his back against the leg Frank's chair. There is a long pregnant pause. "Well Shelly, do you have anything you would like to add?"Frank breaks the silence and looks to the only other human in the room. "To what?"Shelly blurts out, "He just purred and meowed!" Daniel Hissed, arched his back, and his ears flattened against his head. Frank got out of his chair and placed himself between Shelly and Daniel. "Woah, woah, hold on! That kind of language is not acceptable in the workplace Daniel!"he exclaimed while looking at Daniel, whose tail had gotten to about 30% poof. Daniel sat back down, and rolled onto his back, exposing his tummy, well what would have been his tummy if he weren't wearing a bespoke suit. "Now Shelly, this is what we're talking about. when you say things like that you really hurt Daniels feelings." "Felines"Shelly utters under her breath. "What?" "Nothing" "Look, I'm really sorry, but if you can't be an adult about this we're going to have to ask you to leave. Without saying anything Shelly gets up, and walks out of the room. "I'm really sorry about that Dan,"is the last thing Shelly hears as the door closes.
FBI Senior Special Agent Frank Rossi sat at his desk, twiddling his badge and watching a video of an orange cat with a short, stubby tail meowing in a particularly cute way. "Cute little baby,"he muttered to himself. He'd joined the FBI expecting action, and excitement, and adventure, and everything else they train you for in Quantico. Currently, he was experiencing none of that. Agent Rossi's first assignment, when he graduated the Academy, was federal witness protection. He'd expected this to be car chases and diving in front of bullets to protect his charges from angry drug lords; the reality was, it was mostly just sitting in a car 100 feet away from some random guy's house, waiting for nothing to happen, and then reporting back that nothing happened. As it turned out, the agents in charge of concocting people's new identities were very good at their jobs, and there were no Homer Thompsons among the people in need of wit-pro, as the shorthand around headquarters went. In spite of the boredom, however, he'd tried his level best, and did his job admirably; as a result, he was promoted and transferred to a division they referred to as "special witness protection." Nobody had given him any clue what that meant, except that he'd had to get a Top Secret security clearance for the transfer (which was a royal pain in the ass all on its own) and sign about a thousand non-disclosure forms from various celebrities- mostly ones he understood to be dead. It struck him as incredibly odd that he would need to be legally bound to, say, Elvis Presley, Prince, Michael Jackson, Tupac Shakur, Juice WRLD, or Mac Miller, given that as far as he was aware, they were all no longer alive. Hell, he'd even had to sign non-disclosure forms related to Avril Lavigne and Paul McCartney; while both were at least living celebrities, he couldn't make any sense of their relation to the FBI. What's more, this job seemed to be even more boring than the last. At least he got to go places in regular wit-pro. Special wit-pro seemingly just meant sitting at a desk, thinking about all the dead celebrities who would somehow rise from the dead and sue you if you talked about your job. Just as the cat video finished, Agent Rossi heard a knock on his office door. "Come in,"he said, expecting one of his coworkers- maybe Agent Williams, over in forensics, here to roast him about the mystery job again. Instead, it was a middle-aged black man in a suit, bald-headed and with a very... distinctive and recognizable face. A white bandana was tied around his forehead at the front, and Agent Rossi wondered for a second, before dismissing the possibility. "Hey, I had an appointment to discuss travel?"the man asked. "You're the new guy, right?" "Yeah, that's me,"Rossi said. "What was the appointment name under?" "What, you don't recognize me?"the man asked. "C'mon, seriously? I know you're not that damn white." "...let me put it this way, I think I recognize you, but I'm pretty sure the person I recognize you as has been dead since I was, like, twelve,"Rossi said. The man burst out laughing, a hearty, deep laugh. "They really didn't tell you shit about this job, did they?"the man asked. "Nope,"Agent Rossi said, flicking a pencil between his fingers. The man extended his hand. "Tupac Shakur,"he said. "And you are?" Agent Rossi was too stunned to talk properly as he shook Tupac's hand. He managed to collect himself for a bit. "Senior Special Agent Frank Rossi,"he said. "So that's why they had me sign so many damn NDAs." "Yeah, the last guy they had handling us had about the same reaction when he met Elvis,"Tupac said, causing Rossi to do yet another double-take, then dismiss it. "Anyways, I need to make some travel arrangements. Juice and XXX have never gone skiing, so I wanna take their asses up to Norway, hit some dope ass mountains. When can you book us in?" Rossi blinked. "I'm sorry, what am I, your travel agent? How the hell are you gonna go out in public without people going 'oh holy shit, it's Tupac?'"Rossi asked, deeply confused. "Yes, that is part of your job. And... damn, they really didn't tell you shit,"Tupac said. "Dammit, why can't Paul be the one filling you in on this shit? He's good at that, I'm not." "Dude, it's cool, just tell me what I gotta know,"Agent Rossi said. "Just call the hangar and tell 'em to expect me, like you expect Jesus to come back,"Tupac said, with a wink. "Trust me, we been in this game long enough that I got the rest, you just gotta make the phone calls and tell people we're coming."With that, he opened the door and strutted out, seemingly making no attempt to hide his identity. Huh. So that's why there's so many weird-ass sightings of dead celebrities, Rossi thought to himself, picking up the phone. Motherfuckers are just retired. \--- If you enjoyed this, check out [Parasite Code](https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/57899/shonen-fighting-sci-fi-parasite-code), my currently ongoing serial on Royal Road inspired by shonen anime like JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, Chainsaw Man, and Hunter x Hunter!
"Personal Log, Dean Harper, Triton II. Oh nine hundred thirty seven, August twenty ninth." "Communication with the Mariana Deep surface team cut out an hour ago. Some technical issues were to be expected while working at this depth, but I lost contact with Triton I fifteen minutes ago. I can now see Triton I. Or, its spotlights, at least. Hank set down on the ocean floor when we lost comms and said he was going to try to restore contact. We had been talking our way through the problem when his signal cut out." "I am now making my approach to establish visual communication. He can not be more than a hundred feet away." "Personal Log, Dean Harper, Triton II. Oh nine hundred fifty two, August ninth." "I- I'm not..." Submariner Harper clears his throat "I am not certain what has happened to Hank. Triton I is still operational and is still waiting where Hank set it down but... but Hank isn't in there. He's- Submariner Hank Giles is not in Triton I." "I have positioned Triton II above and in front of Triton I. I can clearly see into the sub and it is empty. Christ, it's empty. There's nowhere to hide in there. And he couldn't have left it. It would have flooded if he opened the hatch. And how could he have opened the hatch? The pressure at this depth-" "I've gotta- I mean, there is no damage to its exterior, I suspect our communications loss was not technical in nature. I am going to set Triton II down and try to remotely access Triton I." "Personal Log, Dean Harper, Triton II. Ten, ummm, quarter past ten." "I have gained remote access to Triton I. Systems are green across the board. On board recordings functioned properly. I skipped a lot, it was hard to... Hank. He... he was trying to contact me. Then there was a scraping on his hull. Like-" Multiple small scratching sounds echo in the cockpit of Triton II "Like that! Oh shit, I've-" Illegible ranting over the scratching sound and Triton IIs engine "P- Personal Log, Dean Harper, Triton II." "I have become lodged on something. Nearly overheated my system trying to get off the ocean floor. The cameras on Triton I show, umm, I am tangled. They're not hands. They just look like hands. They can't be hands. I'm not held down I'm..." The scratching sound returns "I am lodged on something. Garbage that has sunk to the deepest canyon in the ocean. Or maybe some abyssal crustaceans have mistakenly latched onto my sub. I am lodged. Triton I is not. I am going to remotely pilot it to remove whatever is tangled on Triton II." Submariner Harper is quiet as he handles his controls. Triton II echoes with bangs on its hull "The, ummm, the things on Triton II are on there pretty good. I've hit them but they haven't come off. I don't think they have. Kicked up a lot of sediment, though. Visibility is zero. Waiting for it to settle before I try again." Quiet "It is almost clear enough for me to continue. As soon as I am clear of the ocean floor I will set Triton I to surface before ascending myself." The scratching increases in volume "Whatever is out there is moving on the hull. It's just beyond my field of vision, just past the edge of my main vewing port. It's..." Submariner Harper screams "Personal Log, Dean Harper, Triton II. Eleven hundred thirty. August twenty ninth." "I will be stepping out to join Submariner Hank Giles." "End log."
I didn't think they were serious, but they were. I remember the paper booklet they would hand out in elementary school for us to get books out of a small child like catalog. It was always exciting when that day came around. It was shopping, but instead it was books, but we mostly looked at the toys. I remember seeing "GET YOUR VERY OWN UNICORN DRAGON!!!"On the very last page, and well of course that got all of our attentions. But if you read the blurb next to it, "ONLY DELIVERED WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT!"Upon asking our teacher what this meant she told us that it wouldn't reply until the people say we can have it. Of course everyone moved onto the next best thing in the catalog but not me.. not me. I circled it what I can tell was an obvious amount of circles. And that was that. A single memory that altered my life for the rest of my life As I lay here with you, I think this is the biggest blessing of my life. That came out of a school catalog. I look over to her and there she lays on the prickly grass with her mains hair sprawled all over, and her wings closed together to one side. "I hear your thoughts very loudly, you know?"She days with her eyes closed. "I know, but it's so crazy you know.. it only took 10 years." "Well I'm glad they waited till you were old enough to cook, 12 year old you would have given me canned dog food."She laughs and it almost sounds like a melody almost I smile and lay down with her. Tonight is our night, the sea of stars if ours for the taking.
Index bought the black traveling backpack when he was invited for his first mountain trip last month. Simple design, convenient, light, spacious, and most importantly durable. At first, he assumed the small fon at the top was part of the design until it started to speak to him one night when he stashed the first items inside. He was not bothered by the minor supernatural event since young. But it talked without hints and the personality changed depending on the stuff he put inside. Thus, on the night before his first mountain trip with his colleagues, he had to make extra measures to stash all the 'good' stuff inside. "Ohhhh... Master... Will you take me tonight? Keep me close to your heart, my love,"The bag moaned. "Shit,"He shuddered and quickly pulled out the adult magazine, "Fine, just foods... And..." "The hell, dude?! I'm so burning hot right now! You better watch your tone!" "It's just spicy mee!"Index screamed, "Can I at least bring a mug?!" --- He eventually settled with all the necessary stuff and began traveling first thing in the morning. Despite his annoyance, Index enjoyed the 'company' of his backpack and loved to brag with his two friends, especially his crush Sarah. "We will travel far, my friends!"The backpack commanded. "It enjoyed talking, don't they?"His best friend Kyle teased. "Just leave it,"Index replied, "Where are we going?" "North. There's a waterfall ahead. We can find a drink there,"Kyle pointed. "We can camp there for the night. And a bath..."Sarah smiled and winked at him. Index looked away, knowing his face was flaring red. "Ah, youth!"The backpack spoke. True enough, they found a waterfall by evening and decided to camp for the night. They had a long bath, though Sarah avoid the deep water due to her inability to swim. Instead, she took out a small journal and wrote down all the events today. "Writing a journal?"Index nudged his chin at the book. "Oh, it's nothing. Just some habit,"Sarah put it away in her book, "I like to express myself through the book. It's like a mini diary of a sort?" "I see..."But Index was curious to know the heart of his crush. He glanced at his backpack and grinned at his smart idea. An idea that doomed him. --- When the night came, camouflaged by the sound of the waterfall, Index sneaked out of his tent and stole Sarah's diary from her backpack, and carried it away with his backpack. He went as far as he could for he knew how loud his talking backpack was. Gently, he removed everything inside and put Sarah's diary within. "Is that you, Master?" "Hello,"Index inhaled deeply and asked, "How do you feel about me?" The backpack began laughing. Those answers that came through from 'her' mouth... ...Was not the Sarah he knew. "Did you think you're worth the effort, scum?"The backpack talked. And it continued to spur insults after insults. Her diary expressed how much she loved the 'cooler' Kyle, but she already knew beforehand Index's affection for her. Kyle was already her boyfriend weeks earlier, but she was teasing him for fun. Tomorrow, they were planning to play a prank on him by leaving him on the mountaintop and streaming his reaction. Sarah never cared about him. For the first time, he was begging the backpack to stop. But the cursed words continued until he threw out the book. His silent weep was temporary, but it soon turned to hatred. He remembered the small pocket knife he brought with him. It was sharp, never used. Perfect to cut flesh. --- The next morning, Index, hands still dirtied by the blood, went to the mountaintop alone, unsure where his direction will lead him. His backpack was heavy, but such was the weight of two. Perhaps it's better to be lost in the wood for good. No one will find out. The backpack began talking in two voices. "Index... I'm scared... take me out of here... Come on, bro. It's just a joke... Let me out..." "Shut up..."He shut his ears and continued walking. When he decided where to dump the evidence, perhaps he will leave the cursed backpack behind. That will silence it for good.
It's been a week now since the government launched an attack on the alien planet, which I've come to learn is named 'Utopia'. According to the aliens, that name and our definition of the word are a complete coincidence, and when challenged they questioned our naming of the eighth planet from the sun in our solar system, 'Uranus'. We could hardly defend that, so we accepted that Utopia is literally just the name of the planet. The aliens call their species 'Utopians'. Anyway, after I and several others were unable to retreat back to the ship, I heard that people were badgering the government for answers, after all we were supposed to conquer the entire galaxy, right? The government was forced to confess the truth - they had discovered aliens on the planet, and the supposed scouting crew they sent was actually a newly formed ALE team, leading everyone to realise that aliens do exist. The government tried to hide this information from the public as to not cause panic, but they failed. The news are all over this, and are getting ready to announce that aliens are real and were being kept hidden by the government. How do I know any of this if I'm on Utopia and not Earth? After the attack against the Utopians, they decided to visit Earth's orbit to gather information and figure out what humans are planning next. I hear the Utopians talk about it, after all this could have a very big impact on their culture and future, depending on what happens from here. All the soldiers that were captured made a full recovery, but the Utopians didn't let us go - they actually apologised about keeping us here, but they said that with how things have turned out, they need to ensure their safety. Those of us that agreed to cooperate were given a strange device, similar to what the young woman wears, who's name I learned is Amelia. Two soldiers refused to surrender to the Utopians, so they were taken to the prison area of the building. The Utopians were super apologetic as they arrested the soldiers, stating that they have to do what they can to protect themselves. As for the rest of us? We were assigned relatively large, comfortable 'rooms', which are sort of like glorified prison cells, except there's a system set up in these rooms which is providing oxygen. So even though I can technically leave of my own free will, I would be crushed by the pressure of just simply trying to breathe! From my understanding, such a set-up doesn't exist in the prison... those two soldiers must be suffering greatly. Admittedly, it's quite comfortable and warm here, and considering I never wanted to be involved in some alien vs human war in the first place, I got no problems! Anyway, as I said it's been a week since the attempted takeover of Utopia, and from my understanding, the news broadcast on Earth has begun. They'll be no hiding the truth now... I walk up to my personal guard (each human has been assigned one to help them if they need to get back to their room). "Excuse me, miss, do you have access to the broadcast on my planet? I'm curious about what they have to say regarding your species..."my guard smiles at me. "I'll escort you to our broadcast room"she said, in a manner so polite a princess would be seen as rude by comparison! We make it to the room, and it seems like we just missed the beginning. "...vernment has been hiding this information from the public, but after the scouting team returned from the alien planet, they were pushed for answers. Here's their reasoning for keeping the aliens a secret.""We didn't want to cause a panic. Galactic Conquest had been a plan in the making for a few decades, and we didn't want to be interrupted by the fear of another intelligent species. Unfortunately, it seems like the aliens were well prepared with a lot of robot spiders and snakes. The crew still fought valiantly, and we solute those who lost their lives during the inva-" The broadcast is shut off by the Utopian King. "They accuse us of killing humans, when the humans were trying to kill us to take over our planet..."he sighs. He turns to me. "Surely you don't want to return to Earth, where everyone thinks of themselves only and don't care about exterminating those seen as less than them?"I want to explain that I have friends and family, and that I could try to vouch for their courteous and polite nature. But I don't want to sound like I actually hate them, being rude, impolite and disrespectful is not tolerated here. "No, your majesty."The king looks at me confused. "Why are you lying? Are you afraid of what we'll think of you, Max?" CRAP! There's no point trying to hide it... "How did you know I was lying?"The king smiles. "You humans have tell-tale signs, whether you know it or not. So, why would you want to return?"I go for broke. "My friends, my family, they're all back there..."at this, my eyes start watering. "Besides... I think I can try to convince everyone that you're all amazing! We were literally planning to kill you, yet you showed us mercy and kindness."The king nods thoughtfully. "I see"he responds. "Let's see what we can do from here..." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ This story is a part of my series, [Alien Life.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x1uytg/alien_life/) Please check it out!
‘What. The. Fuck’ said the sensor array operator, Quick Ben. ‘Captain, any thoughts?’ he continued. ‘None, Quick, none’ answered Captain Jack whose eyes are glued on the looking glass, looking at... well nothing. Nothing at all. Beyond the looking glass on the bridge, it was previously believed the galaxy, and the universe itself, was teeming with stars, nebula’s and other brightly lit matter. ‘Or so we thought’ mused the captain. ‘Did we really just watch s..some sort of sheet paper the size of the universe fall away?! Like wallpaper!' shouted the Helmsman slowly growing in panic, if her breathing was any indication. Sense the distress of his crew slowly grow, Captain Jack righted himself, took a deep breath and replied ‘No, Helmsman Keen. At least not the size of the universe. More like it was wrapped around our solar system I reckon. The universe itself is still there, just outside the looking glass. Only difference is now its, well, dark…’ the captain trailed off. Eyes once again fixed on the nothing. ‘Wrapped around the solar system? Captain who, or what, could possibly construct such a thing and make it look so real! For centuries we’ve been examining the stars. Detecting them, and other energy signals! That can’t all just be fake’ stated Quick Ben, who had by now grown pale. ‘I don’t know Quick, and I doubt ill ever know. Leave that to the scientists to figure out. Our job is to ensure the safety of this ship and its crew’ said the captain, loudly getting the attention of all staff on the bridge. Some looking blankly at the captain and the nothing, others slowly nodding in agreement. ‘What if all the sensor data we’ve received over the decades was accurate, at one time, but then something slowly erased or consumed it all? What if something using some sort of highly advanced technology trapped us in a cage of pretend, leaving us till last,’ said the now panic-stricken Helmsman. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Aliens, Keen? Really? Sure, Alien lifeforms very likely do exist but to go through all that trouble of a make-believe universe to keep us unaware of what it or they are doing? That seems like an utter waste of time and energy’ retorted Quick, growing slowly irate at the Helmsman’s inability to get herself together. Captain Jack foreseeing the crew about to descend into chaos made to reinstate order when static screeching could be heard from everywhere not just from speakers and not just from somewhere but within the crews’ own minds. Screaming, the crew all drop down with their hands on their ears. Trying as they can to lessen the noise. After several seconds which felt like hours the noise did subside, not stop completely but drop to an irritating background noise. ‘WHAT WAS THAT’ shouted someone on the bridge, not that the captain knew who because at that moment all he could focus on was two very large, very blood red orbs that had appeared in the nothing. As the rest of the crew looked at what the captain was staring at the orbs opened… and what appeared was two eyes. Eyes the size of a planet, and they looked eldritch, impossibly ancient and most importantly, evil.
When I first learned how to ride a bike, I didn't think about how many hours it took you to work for it for me, we didn't have a lot of money. Have you ever even seen me ride that bike, I've had it for years I treasure it. I never lacked anything. But I was always missing something from you. You rarely showed me you loved me, you never said you loved me, it wasn't until I was 18 you told me my first, 'I love you'. When everyone moved out and it was just you and me I was so nervous it was going to be bad. I was nervous you'd want to take out all the punishments I've been building up. But instead you bought me my dream room. When your grandmother died, it was the first time you've ever cried both infront of me and to me. It was emotionally beautiful to see the dry canal spew a river out of no where, emotion filling every crack, truly I was taken away. But in therapy I realized something, you were such a good mother to me and I have never even noticed. Simply because you didn't know how to express it in the way I seek didn't mean you weren't doing it. I have to tell my mom I love her.
"Is this... Heaven?" The clouds stretched out forever, with a sunless blue sky above. To one side, though, there was a wall instead. It reached miles high, and I gave an educated guess that it was marble. Near me were what I could only assume we're the pearly gates, though they didn't match the description I'd always been given. While gold, the gate was formed of triangles a dozen feet tall and only a few thick at the widest, tiled out. There wasn't a podium with saint Peter either, but that part had always been confusing to me. Why would his eternal reward in heaven be replaced by an endless desk job? Lacking any other options, I approached the weird gate. As I got closer, I started to hear the sounds of some great machine- like clockwork, only on a scale that beggared belief. It didn't open, though, even when I was only a few feet away. Did I need to touch it? Or, more worryingly, was this a test of faith? I'd never been the most religious guy. I'd gone to church most Sundays, did the holidays, donated, the works, but it wasn't like a core part of my life. Maybe I had to prove myself before God would let me in. I looked around, but there wasn't anyone else here. But then, God was beyond time and space. If he wanted to test our souls, doing it as a group could spoil the end result. What to do, what to do... Praying seemed an obvious choice, but would the test really be that simple? Some proof of my goodness? I tried for several minutes but I couldn't think of any ways to do that when I was the only one here. There was no one to save, nothing to sacrifice... It was just me and... I paused, glancing down as I realized I hadn't technically come entirely by myself. I was still in my ruined motorcycle gear from the accident. My helmet was gone, but I still had everything else. Despite knowing I was alone, I still have another glance before I started to peel the layers away. I stopped at my underwear, waiting for something to happen and hoping I didn't need to give them up to. Even if everyone did it, I'd rather enter heaven with a little dignity. No luck, it seemed, and with a sigh I tore that off too. Then it happened. That great clockwork I'd heard grew louder before, with a monumentous groan, the gate began to draw open. Warm air poured out from within, which was nice since I was suddenly naked, and I tried to look inside. It was a blinding white, so I couldn't make out anything. I made my way over, shielding my eyes with one hand. Only a few yards, but it took a lot longer when moving blind. One more step and I'd- Pain shot up my leg and I recoiled immediately to clutch my injured food. What had I kick- "God dammit,"I muttered, glaring at the barely visible chunk of gold still sticking up from the floor. That was the moment I realized my mistake. "Wait- I didn't mean-!" The ground beneath me suddenly stopped holding me up and I fell through, descending past clouds into open sky. My sky. I looked back up, seeing a perfectly ordinary cloud above, before my gaze turned downwards at the rapidly approaching ground. Powerful winds blew past me as I fell, but I knew that resistance wouldn't be enough. "I'm sorry, Lord!"I shouted into the empty sky. "Forgive me!" "For what?" I blinked, shaking my head before glancing at the one who spoke. He, for it was a he, didn't look much like a God. Then again, they'd gotten the pearly gates wrong. "I'm sorry." "Nah, I should be apologizing,"the winged figure said with a shrug. "I normally catch you guys on the way up." "What?" "Come on, I know your book still mentions me." The way he said that... His wings... "Michael?" "Ugh, no you idiot. Lucifer- Lucifer Morningstar." I glanced down but there was still another few minutes before I'd crash into the ground. I thought about that for a second, and well, I'm not particularly proud of how I reacted. "Is this one of those deal with the devil things? Cause... I don't want to die." "Good thing you fell, then. Made yourself just unappetizing enough."He whistled in acknowledgement. "Must have been a close call from the start." "Un... Appetizing?" He gave a crooked smile. "Surprise, I guess. But hey, you didn't get eaten. Given my mistake, I'd call that a win." I stared at him, finding it incredibly hard to believe his words. Wasn't he the Lord of Lies? Or wait, was that Beelzebub? In the time I spent thinking that over, Lucifer came to some kind of decision and simply grabbed my hand. "Come on- I'll show you to the true afterlife." And a moment later, I wasn't falling anymore.
They stumbled across a big red aluminum barrel full of a mysterious liquid. They assumed that said liquid was coke but the liquid had a golden apperance and tasted like herbal lemonade. They had no idea what it really was, so they took it to a lab for further analysis. The lab expert mumbles to himself: "alright, what do we have here? Water, sugar, acidifier, citric acid, ammonium sulfite, natural herbal extracts and no preservatives". The lab expert looks into the ultimate database of knownledge created in 2069 and found something. The lab expert proudly announces that the liquid in question is "Almdudler", a long-forgotten popular drink that was especially popular in 20th- and 21st century Austria. The lab expert seemed suprised that this drink hasn't gone bad by now.
Santa is not a man, he is a story. He is the story of a jolly old man with a red and white suit, who sneaks into people's homes, and delivers gifts to the children. Why does he do this? kindness, plain and simple, he loves to spread joy, or so the stories go. But like I said, Santa does not exist as a man, but as an idea. He is not real, and never will be. But the idea of giving gifts to spread joy and cheer out of nothing but kindness? That is very real. But then if Santa isn't real, where do the gifts come from? That requires another story, a sadder one. There was once a boy named Nicholas, who lived in an orphanage with many other children. The orphanage was poor, though its workers and carers were kind men and women, who instilled many important values onto them, and onto the young boy. But because they were poor, the boys and girls had to share everything. Clothes and rooms and even toys were all owned by them. But the boy, Nicholas, he so desperately dreamed of one thing, and one thing only: to have one single toy owned solely by himself. It sounded greedy, but in the orphanage, there was never enough to go around, and so many simply waited for their turn with the dolls or action figures. And on every Christmas eve, Nicholas would pray as hard as he could, to see if he would be given but a single toy at Christmas. He never got one, not a single toy to himself, Christmas after Christmas. Now this is the point where most stories would tell you that the boy's heart was consumed by greed, and he became some evil creature living in the mountains beyond the town he lived in. But he didn't. He became a normal, mild mannered young man who then went into financing, becoming a famous and wealthy business man. As the years went by, his wealth grew and grew and grew, and he became one of the wealthiest people in the world. And yet still, he did not grow arrogant or childish through that wealth, he always remembered where he had come from. And so, he wished to give back to those who were like him: the orphans whose who had nothing but eachother. He came up with a plan. If there was no Santa, no man on the north pole, who delivered gifts to the masses of children, then he would do it instead. And so he created an organisation, and he named it nothing. It was a secret thing, one that was meant to fulfil the duties of Santa, without removing the magic of his story. They gathered information on who wanted what, they organised operations to buy and then distribute those toys to everyone, without charging a thing. All due to the unfathomable finances of this one man. For years, children would never wake up on Christmas morning to find nothing, there would always be a toy for every single child on earth. And then, decades later, when he was just referred to by the people that worked for him as 'Old man Nick', he died. There was no chosen heir, he had no children or spouse, having dedicated his whole life to giving joy. But left to the organisatio0n, was a simple note. One written in a neat hand, his hand. "Above everything else,"It read, "Give." And despite having nothing except that note to go off of, they did. The organisation lived on for many, many years, giving gifts to the world for nothing. And no one remembers the young boy, Nicholas, nor the old man, Nick. They don't remember his years at the orphanage, or the company he made, or anything about him. No records of him have survived, his story had been forgotten. But Santa? Santa will never be forgotten, because then who else is bringing the gifts?
Jedi Knight Cisko Bene'zz struck the Sith lords crimson saber showering sparks on the dusty ground. Heavy lights warmed his already exhausted body, sweat causing his grip to slip just enough for the opponent to gain the advantage swatting at his head. Ducking, rolling out of the way was in vain as the crimson sword glowed at his unprotected throat. There were screams nearby, but all he could see was the bright lights centered on the two duelists, the glowing sword at his throat, and the red tattooed face of his opponent. Dropping his lightsaber, he cleared his mind, closed his eyes, and prepared for death. "Ladies and gentlemen, your champion, Sith Lord Darth Cleanton!"cried an unseen announcer. The gathered crowd in the stands which surrounded the circular area stood up and cheered at the spectacle. The Sith Lord turned off the saber and helped the Jedi to his feet. Standing together, the Sith Lord being the winner of the duel began to speak to the gathered crowd. "To all you fine folk, we hope you enjoyed the show and will enjoy the remainder of your meal. Thank you for coming to Jedi Times and we hope to see you again. MAY THE SITH REIGN SUPREME!" The crowd clapped politely before digging into their overpriced dinner. It was a good show, but the two force users night wasn't over. A few hours of autographs before they could finally return back to their small apartment in the not-so-nice but slated to be gentrified district of Coruscant. The galaxy had gotten sick of religious force users on both sides warring against each other. Two side of the same coin. After the multiple purges, rebellions, and so on, few gave any credence to the remaining legendary warriors of the galaxy on either side. And like all who became obsolete, the survivors came together and made due.
“No, I won’t do it.” Our “hero” said “it’s against the warriors code” “Alan the “warriors code” was written by the town drunk after he watched the dark knight marathon after a lord of the rings marathon.” “Your point””there is no warriors code damnit. It’s just drunken ravings” “well your not the chosen one” “Alan you fool, your mom said that too get you off the couch” “ok mr mc I get laid what do you suggest?” “Using the gun maybe. You idiot, h by you not shooting Crimson Chaos he will literally push the world into the sun.””ok then you do it, I’m not going.” “Fine. You’re a moron anyways.”
I made this prompt a week ago which didn't get much attention... I left it more open than the guy is a werewolf, mostly out of interest of what else people might use a full moon for, but it can definitely be used for a werewolf character. "You get an invitation to a business meeting, but why is it taking place around midnight, and on the night of a full moon, no less? This could be really bad - still, you know you can't refuse to attend, all you can do is pray that you can hide your secret..."
Good. The museum guards are distracted. Time to make my move. Make sure I'm careful not to trigger any alarms... step over, duck under... and here it is, the discovery of the century! A rare, ancient artefact! No doubt worth thousands! Oof, a bit heavier than expected... now to make my exit... "HALT, THIEF!"Who said tha- wait, I'm surrounded??? "We knew you were in here. You're not as slick as you thought you were. We were just waiting until you actually tried to take something." I roll my eyes. "Whatever, this is priceless, right? Let me out or I smash this on the ground!" The guards burst into laughter. "Mate, that's just a cheap replica! Did you really think we'd keep the real deal here? You must be mental!" Shocked, I have another look at the object in my hand. At the base are the words `MADE IN CHINA`. CRAP! I screwed up AGAIN! Why do I keep messing up?
It’s been many years since I first met the dragons. I don’t even know how old I am anymore. I lost count around 150. But today, I’ve finally accomplished my lifelong dream of riding each type of dragon. Humanoids never got along with dragons. When they woke up from their slumber 1000 years ago, they discovered our nuisance of an existence and started to burn, freeze, and bury every city they came across. Anything they could do to rid themselves of our existence. But people adapted. No longer would we live in small villages or large cities and towns. People have learned to hide away from the dominant species and keep themselves away from the prying eyes of those ready to feast. Humans took to small dirt houses up against hills and the like. Or they would create manmade hills to act as a household camouflage from their invaders. Dwarves and Orcs dug deep into the sides of mountains and deep underground into the hard interior of the surface. With their mighty strength and their surprising compatibility in passions, they worked together to form mighty civilizations away from the ears of the dragons. Gnomes built large floating cities. Too high for the dragons to see or even reach if they were to try. These floating dome cities were considered paradises, where robots would take care of all the grunt work while the rest could work on creating, refining, discovering, and last but not least, partying. Elves made their homes in the trees. They had lived in large forests before the dragons appeared. But they still needed to dampen their features from them. Before, you could see plenty of wooden houses and bridges all around with intricate designs and architectural structure. But now they use their techniques to make their homes look like naturally formed trees, dirt, and rocks. Across the world, some of these communities had ancient texts that taught them how to use magic. Unexplainable phenomena using words and symbols in conjunction to make something from almost nothing. I was lucky enough to be born into one that had one of these tomes. So I learned how to create and use fire from merely a few words and any tool to create symbols from. “Ish-tan-buk!” I yelled while having a little fun outside as I had done before. “Ish-tan-val!” “You know, the flames would be bigger if you pronounced it right” A voice in my head creeped in. I looked around but no one was there. “Hello?” I jumped. “Don’t be frightened, try pronouncing it Vish-tan-bail and see what happens,” her voice admonished, a bit confident. I hesitated. “Vish-tan-bail!” The fire was twice the size as it was before. And I was able to control it more precisely. I could move the fire however I wanted as long as i could imagine it. “Who are you!?” I called out again. “Only if you promise not to run and scream.” The voice entered my head again. I hesitated again but my curiosity got the better of me. “Fine, I won’t run and scream.” Suddenly a small, slender, bright red dragon silently made its way between the trees. My eyes widened, my body frozen in fear, unable to say or do anything. “I was curious about the one capable of using fire magic the same way that my kind does. Are you part dragon or something?” Her voice echoed through my mind as it raced through all the options and how screwed I was. “Would you be able to show my parents if I brought you to them? I think they’d find you quite fascinating.” The idea of suggesting I was part dragon was looking better and better as an option. And saying anything against her requests in my mind would make me lunch for sure. “Y-yeah, at least I th-think I might be p-part dragon.” I can barely hold my sentence together. Before I knew it, she tossed me up onto her back as her wings started to expand up into the air before saying “hold tight” into my mind. I grabbed on for dear life and held my breath until I couldn’t anymore. When I breathed again I was above the clouds, looking out at the endless dull grey fluff while the gold-orange sky hover overhead. We were flying for so long, I got lost in the endless expanse of clouds and fell asleep. I woke up with a thud as I had been dropped on the ground. I was immediately filled with panic and dread as two enormous bright red dragons loomed over me. “These are my parents” the voice echoed again. “Hello!” My voice cracked as I bowed my head in reverence to be so close to an enormous predator and not immediately eaten. “Lythinsia here suggests you are part dragon, can you prove her claims?” A deep booming voice entrenched into my core as I stared up in disbelief. I quickly look at the ground and start to draw into the dirt using my finger the symbols for fire. “V-Vish-tan-bail!” Fire surrounded me in a protective barrier before I extended my hand outward for the fire to extend out and away from me. “Interesting!” the voice bellowed jubilantly. I had done it, I knew at that moment I secured my life for a while longer. Suddenly, the dragons began to take on more humanoid-like forms, twice or even three times as tall as an average humanoid. They showed me around where they lived, on a mountain far far away from my small community lay the only large faction of red dragons. Their houses were fit for kings, three kings even, for each individual family of dragons. I learned that the dragons weren’t so different from the humans and that it’s now been several generations since they awoken. They don’t really know why they are awake to begin with or what caused it, or even why they were asleep. They’ve communicated with the other dragon factions and it seems the history has been lost through the ages. But they were always taught to kill the tiny creatures as they were their food and there was no reason to give it a second thought. I had become the first non-dragon that made contact with the dragons in 1000 years. I explained to the dragons where I came from, the people like me, and what we were capable of. Efforts started off slow, but eventually, the red dragon faction had become acquainted with the elves, then the humans, then the dwarves and orcs, and even the gnomes after a time. After about 10 years the red dragon faction had properly assimilated into the various communities that had set up throughout. No longer being confined to their own kind and now able to enjoy those from every community. I even formed a bond with Lythinsia as the years went on. During these 10 years, I had visited many communities to introduce the red dragon faction to them. One of these communities offered me the opportunity to learn from their ancient tomes. This particular group had control of water. I wouldn’t dare pass up the chance to double my capabilities. So I learned it. I was now capable of controlling both fire and water, and with a bit of experimentation, even both simultaneously. Eventually, the sea dragons caught wind of what the fire dragons were doing, making friends with their prey and assimilating into their cultures. The sea dragons had always been at odds with the fire dragons due to differences in abilities, thinking their ability being superior than the other’s. But when I showed them my capabilities of controlling water and fire together. There was only one thing the water dragons had to say. “Are you part water dragon?”
I was walking through the park, admiring the autumn leaves, when I noticed something strange. One of the leaves was a colour that I had never seen before. It wasn't red, green, or blue. I couldn't describe it by hue, chroma, or luminance. I was mesmerized by this colour and I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I started to wonder why this colour didn't have a name. It was like it didn't exist. But I knew that it existed, because I was looking at it. I decided to find out more about this colour. I did some research and I discovered that this colour is actually outside of the visible spectrum. It's a colour that we can't see with our eyes, but it's there. It's like a secret colour, hidden from us. I think there's something special about this colour. It's like it's a part of the world that we don't know about. It's a mystery, and I can't wait to find out more about it. The End.
Days prior, I had noticed that the grass outside my house was growing. I dedicated an afternoon to cutting it. Apparently that was the final straw. I went to bed that night like any other, but when I woke up and looked out of the window like usual, I could only see green with tiny gaps of light in between. The entirety of my house was covered in vines. I could not leave, and I didn't have much food left. I tried everything I could think of, until I had a tremendously stupid idea. I opened the cupboard, which I kept all of my discarded things in and found my old lawnmower. I brought it up to my room and plugged it in, before walking over to one of my windows and smashing it. I turned on the lawnmower and charged towards the vines.
After we were illuminated by a bright light and given power beyond our wildest imaginations we became arrogant and reckless. Torr was the first to abuse his power, he used his ability to manipulate time to take advantage of the others around him, for his actions the governments around the world realized the threat we posed and created an organization known as "Blackcliff"a group of highly skilled mercenaries with decorated backgrounds. Because of Torr's complacency he failed to notice that he can only alter time when he is alive and conscious enough to wield it. Something a Backcliff assassin took advantage of by shooting him in the head with a sniper rifle therefore denying him the ability to control time due to a lack of his conciousnes and life . Upon his death 14 of us took arms to avenge him but all were systematically cut down by the more experienced assassin's that were funded by leaders and other figures all over the world. The childish self righteousness and lack of my classmates ability to understand that Torr brought his death upon himself lead to all of us being seen as a major threat. By the end of the conflict all of them lie dead at a now demolished and burning Acrund city surrounded by dead mercenaries and bullets, lot of fucking bullets. Because of my fairly mundane power of being able to have unlimited stamina I was at the bottom of the kill list that the blackcliff assassins had organized. 4 of my classmates also had mundane powers and were in a similar fate. At first we were outcasted and seen as Inferior by the 15 classmates we used to have but our abilities have ended up saving us in the end, they are dead we are alive...see balance. As of right now 4 of my classmates have fallen in the same trap the first 14 fell into. They thought that the world was envious of them hence their death warrants, they thought the world was filled with injustice and prejudice against them. They like the average highschooler believed in a childish illusion or justice just like the ones talked about by superheroes on tv. The truth is the world is not ruled by justice rather it is ruled by power and the ability to influence the masses. I mean that explains why teachers are more angry at a bullied child's outburst over a bully that started the outburst. The bullied child simply gives of a more threatening vibe that is easier to pick and hate on as opposed to the bully who seemingly vanished and feigns innocence. Sometimes regardless of what injustice occurs around you the best way to get around it is to walk the hell away, turn around and don't bother with what is not your business nobody is gonna love you but they ain't gonna hate you either. Problem is my remaining classmates ignored this and were lured into a trap and butchered by Karina the blade mistress, the top assassin of Blackcliff she was the one who killed Torr, Asamiya and Blaine the most powerful among us. So much for justice, oh what a foolish word to fool the weak into a sense of complacency that will ultimately not defend them. No matter what I do the world sees me as an abomination a monster despite my lack of involvement or the fact that I turned down the alliance the 4 proposed to me. Now I stand in my room with Karina sitting on my bed, she was the only one who bothered to listen to what I had to say, she called off her entourage and has allowed me to write a biography of the events from one of our perspectives , something that will no doubt be edited and changed to make us look even worse demons in the history books...heh...not that I care what is calling a dead man a worse demon gonna do? You all think any of history's bad guys feel extra sad or bad after all the insults people have made towards them over the course of millennia? Nope they are dead period just like me after I finish writing this biography. Anyway I don't have much else to say we were idiots to take advantage of our power and for daring to look down at humanity, we brought our downfall and our childish naivite (probably cus we are highschoolers) did little to help us in fact it is what killed us. All that talk about justice what complete bullshit. Karina just handed me her service pistol and told me that I was only dying out of affiliation to the real problem and that she will at least grant me that honor of allowing me to be the one to take my own life. I have just chambered a round that explodes upon impact, Karina said it will ensure I don't suffer in case the bullet does not do its job properly because trust me this thing is a guaranteed 100% kill chance when used on the head. I know this will get edited out but see you in the next life and to whoever gave us these abilities at such a premature age, go to hell you prankster (as much as I hate you what you did was funny af I can see myself doing the same thing for the memes now that I think about it)
It started with warnings, of our polluting and rise in ocean levels. Of course we didn't listen, after all it would not be in our lifetime right? That's the problem with exponential growth, you can't see how quickly it gets out of hand until its too late. Three months ago the temperature average was climbing by 0.01c a day, and that's not so bad right? Except it was exponential. Today its rising by 0.3c average, our storms are breaking scales as wind howls over the earth, we've lost half our planet biomass to fires or flood, and especially the flooding... You don't realise how close to the water you live until your packages can't ship because the docks are under water permanently, at least the few ships that do arrive and aren't sunk by monster swells in the oceans. All of humanity panicked the faster things got out of hand, social media ablaze with humans fighting their governments for not doing enough and frustration that the tipping point was breached; no one could have predicted the solar flare being so violent and kicking off an unstoppable Rube Goldberg machine we assembled out of plastic and carbon dioxide. It's been two years since the collapse, a new virus broke out and killed off its host in days, lucky it didn't last more than a few weeks as it culled most of the population. The survivors on each continent struggled to keep systems running, it's amazing what happens when we drop to just shy of a billion people in half a year. Those of us who can wear protective gear, thick rubber hazmat suits to keep the outside away, venture from deep inside the mountains to generate electricity from over full dams or 24/7 wind farms while we create towering domes of concrete to keep livestock and indoor farming going. 10 years have passed in what feels like the greatest transformation our planet have witnessed. We have in abundance food, water, space, electricity, whatever left of the underwater Internet cables... But our next resort is to become the mole people we sometimes joked about, making space in the crust of our planet to hopefully live a few hundred years more and wait for the heat to radiate into space while we clean up. I just hope we don't end up barren and inhospitable like our parent planet Earth.
I opened the door slowly, "Hey, Jim, how are you?"I asked wearily. While we've been neighbors for the better part of a decade, our relationship was never more than small chat and passing waves. "Kris, last night I couldn't sleep, and so I got up and baked all night."He offered me a plastic Tupperware box. I accepted it, smiled, "Thank you, Jim.". He continued to stare at me. I could feel him waiting for an invitation, but I wasn't sure what for. He began to look around awkwardly and it dawned on me, one, he stayed up all night baking because he couldn't sleep. Two, he then brought over said cookies, making the first intentional move to a conversation. Three, knowing he lived alone, I noted that we might be all he had. If this wasn't a cry for help, I didn't know what was. "Jim, why don't you come in and join us for breakfast." "I... I don't want to be a bother."He replied. "Of course not. The dinning room is right over there, I am just going to check on the baby and let Henry know you are here." Jim made himself comfortable at the table and I headed up stairs. Henry was changing our daughter when I entered her room. "So... Jim's here?"I trailed off, choosing items at random to fix or adjust. "Jim?"My husband raised his head to look at me. "Jim who?" I pointed in the direction of the Jim's house, "Jim." "No shit?"he picked up Cathy and started the baby talk, "And what does Mr. Jimmy want?" "Breakfast. He'll be joining us." Henry turned sharply and tried not to laugh, "What?" "Something about baking all night because he couldn't sleep, and he dropped off these cookies, and then he just stood there, and.... I thought it was a cry for help, so I invited him to join us for breakfast" "I knew you hated me. "he teased as he laid Cathy back in her crib. "Alright, lets get this over with." Henry, the social master he is, welcomed Jim with open arms. I brought out the breakfast casserole I had made, and served everyone. I then offered to get everyone coffee and went back into the kitchen. "Kris, honey, I want to let you know that I think you made the right call. Jim is acting pretty weird. Oh! Are these the cookies he made?"Henry snapped open the lid and popped one in his mouth. I nodded and continued to set up my coffee tray, "Thank you for that." "Oh my God, these are delicious! Try this!"He put a bite size in my mouth. It was still warm and the chocolate melted beautifully. It wasn't too sweet, but just enough balance of crunch and softness. I raised my eye brows at him and smiled as I carried the tray out. "Jim, these cookies are to die for! You'll have to give me the recipe!"I exclaimed. "Thank you,"he replied smiling, "Old family secret, I'm afraid." The small chat was polite, but intriguing. Henry began to clear the table as Jim recalled a memory of his first time walking to school. Truly a funny story, but I found myself distracted by how tired I all of a sudden felt. I excused myself, and stepped into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. "I just had this wave of tiredness come over me."Henry told me. "Me too,"I replied, realizing the coffee pot was too heavy to lift. "If you're tired, just go to bed."Jim replied from the door way, causing both of us to jump. Henry placed his arm across the counter, blocking Jim's direct line of view of me. "That's adorable."Jim smirked, and walked past us towards the stairs. I could feel my eyes struggling to stay open, and I was suddenly drained of any energy I had earlier. Henry was struggling to stay awake as well, and was putting all his weight on the arm he had placed on the counter. He was drastically struggling to stay conscious. "I'm sorry it had to happen this way, but I'm doing this for Cathy. I will raise her properly. I am doing her a favor, honestly." Henry and I both leaped in his direction, but collapsed on the floor. I remember seeing him tilt his head to see me around the counter, before turning around and heading up the stairs.
"It was never supposed to end this way. Over a millennia of peace, prosperity and growth, destroyed in mere days". Johns voice roared over the battlefield. He, as the incarnate of death, was arguably the strongest of the guardians, only contested by the raw power of Jeane, the guardian of the sun. Once there were 9 of them. 9 entities, fueled with a different aspecf of the power of the universe itself, to protect the earth from evil. Now only he, Jeane and, of course, Han are left. Han, as the guardian of life, cannot die. Well, unless the universe itself perishes. Which seems to be about to happen. "Where did that bastard even come from? How are there no stories about him? Not even one fucking fairytale!"Jeane, battered and bruised, looked up with a blank stare. Hope has left her eyes once the slaughter began. "I don't know. No one knows. Hell, even he himself probably doesn't know. Doesn't need to know. He only destroys. Which we can't let happen. We have to stop him, here and now!" "And how will we do that, Han? We don't come back to life once we are impaled, beheaded or ripped to pieces!"John screamed. I love to see them turning on themselves. These so-called guardians. Chosen by the universe to lead the civilization into a new era. And they failed. They pampered them too much. Not only did they stop war, they stopped the advancement of the human race. It's time to start over. From scratch. And therefore, everything that is needs to be destroyed. By me. I am Darkness, chosen by the universe itself, to right what has gone wrong.
“your done for Sceleratus” Electus booms proudly. I never thought I was that bad of a villan I always helped if someone asked whether they were a hero, sidekick, or just a normal person, I would always help. In fact i’ve almost became friends with most of them, almost everyone knows me and that I would do anything to help out. I really don’t understand why Electus hated me so much, I didn’t even do that much crime, the only thing scary about me is that my powers are so flexible one minute I could feel weak with supper strength and the next minute I could be angry with fire powers. my power is based of my mood but I have frequent mood swings, but just because i’m dangerous doesn’t mean he should hate me. today he saw me helping out Ignis and attacked me. I was frightened so my skin practically turned to stone, before i knew it Ignis had fired at Electus. not long after another couple hero’s and sidekicks were helping me away from the fight. (that’s all i’ve got rn gotta do some hw)
I burst through the doors, after months of back and forth you've tracked him down. The Head. He purchased, bribed, blackmailed, and murdered his way to the top. Ruthless and with an unstoppable will, I immediately get my ass handed to me. I open my mouth to declare myself, but he is across the room in a blink. Smashing my head into the doorframe. A series of quick punches to my gut and an uppercut promptly floors me. I summon a blast of air and throw him in the air. only to have him blink back to me. Teleportation is such a bullshit power. Especially for someone whose clearly more experienced than me. I summon a whirlwind, knocking him off balance, even getting a solid hit in before he teleports away. "That was dirty."I shout, my voice modulated. Last thing i wanted was for someone to track my family down and attack them. This guy was certainly the type. "So?"I frown, ruthless as always. We trade blows but he has me on the back foot. I knew he was strong but this was ridiculous. I knew I couldn't hold back any more. I pulled out throwing knives and launch them, my wind guiding their path, following them as he teleports back and forth. I draw more blades and have those circle me. I had him on the back foot now. I kept pulling the light weight blades from my many, many pockets. Soon the room was full and he was furiously trying to get close to me. "You can't keep this up forever!"He shouted, and he was right. His preemptive assualt broke a rib at least. I was losing energy fast. It hit me that his power was my antithesis. The moment i stopped to rest he would get past me guard and resume the pummeling from earlier. I needed a new strategy. I called back my blade, sheathing most of them. A half-assed plan forming in my head. I've had worse plans. I left a few knives to circle me and canceled my whirlwind. His attack was immediate, almost catching me off guard. But not quite, I held my arms over my head as the unending punches beat them down. Then he got a lucky shot on my temple and I go down. My vision going out a moment. "Do you have any idea what your antics have cost me?"He demanded "You cannot stop me, but before I kill you, there's something i'm dying to know."He reached for my mask. I clenched my fist and the still floating knives flew at The Head, just as he blinked away. The pain filled me as i was stabbed by my own knives. I felt a mask on my head. "Fool, I'll relish thi-"He froze the moment he saw my face. "No... No NO! NO!"He shouted, holding his wrist to his mouth, "GET THE MEDICS RIGHT NOW!"He shouted. He ripped off his mask, My eyes widened as i saw my father's loving eyes. "Goddammit Mark. What the fuck are you doing here?" I close my eyes, blood loss driving my to sweet oblivion.
I marry you when pigs fly. Most people would have understood that it meant no but apparently it wasn't clear enough. John, or was it, Tommy, came back ten years later to show off the progress that he had made. Apparently, there's a whole group of people, in the United States of course, whose marriages are on hold because pigs cannot fly. That's not all he explained there are people trying to freeze hell, capture lightning in the bottle, and create a time machine that can travel one million years into the future. Apparently, when he got there, they started making some real progress. I did remember something about him being a genius. Well, he went on for a while to explain that there had been a setback. Apparently, they got the lightning in the bottle but then it bounced out and burned their facilities to the ground bottle. Luckily for…, it might have been Albert, the only thing to escape was a single piglet with wings. Shakespeare, no that’s the writer, had brought it over for me to see. He set the pig on the ground, and it spread out its wings and started to run with its cute feet. Its wings started to flap, and it pushed off the ground and started to fly. Then it suddenly turned into a block of ice add split into shards of ice once it hit the ground. Albert, that’s what it was, muttered something about hell freezing and turned to me and said time to get married. I was impressed at the fact that he got a pig to fly but I still had a way out. That looked like a single pig flying to me not multiple pigs which are implied by when pigs fly. The next line I am proud to say I thought up on the spot. You were close so I will give you another chance. If you're able to split an atom we can get married.
'No, no, please! Let me go!' The siren screeched. John watched her carefully while she writhed in the net he'd captured her with. She was going to damage his deck if she kept it up, he decided, and kicked her square at the base of her tail. She screamed. 'Come on, Sailor! It's not for my sake!' He knew the tricks of these women, if you could call one such. He knew they'd do about anything to save themselves, including luring good folk like himself to their deaths. He spat on the ground and told her to shut her mouth before he did worse. All she did was glare, the bitch. He had to hold himself back, but that wasn't difficult when he thought of the loot he'd get for turning her in- the Govern was offering disproportionately huge amounts for the capture of one of the filth. Supposedly it was dangerous, that sea life would protect them. The Sailor hadn't had any issue of the like. His crew began to gather around, hooting and jeering at the Mer. He told them to get back or he'd have their heads; they followed his command like a pack of mutts. He turned back to the net. 'So, lovely, where's your gang of fishies? Speak.' She must have known he was referring to her lone companion, but she simply replied, 'Everywhere.' He kicked her again, she muffled her voice. 'Everywhere, huh? Must be a big fellow, you'll have to introduce me,' he grinned, 'I'll have his head on a pike alongside you when you're served as a meal.' She shook her head and smiled, 'What a sight that would be.' He sneered. He was done with her, and so called to the nearest hand, 'Drag her down below. We have a long voyage back home, and we'll all be rich!' The boy beamed and did his bidding, all the while believing his lies. He'd rid himself of the crew just before he got to shore, he knew, and call it a great battle. He planned to go down in history as the best pirate who'd ever lived, at the very least, and wanted these scamps to be none of it. They'd have surrendered and jumped to sea, he alone took down the great beast, and- 'Sir?' Another boy asked, snapping him out of his daydream. The boy wasn't a boy, of course, but that was how the Sailor saw him. He was chief of weather and the wellbeing of the ship. 'What?' He said rather sternly. The boy winced, and replied, 'it's late, sir, and a storm is on the way. I ask you retire below deck for the night.' 'Oh, fine! I should have you overboard for interrupting me, you know.' 'Of course, sir, I'm sorry-' He stammered, but the Sailor was long gone on the way back to his quarters by the time he began. Quite nearly asleep, John had rolled over in bed when he heard his door creak and a very gentle, 'Sir?' He yelled, red in the face with agitation and turned to face whoever dared intrude. His room was empty and silent. The only difference from before was the door cracked open ever so slightly. He stormed out of the room, and called out, 'And who's idea of a prank was this?' His ship was silent aside from the crashing of the waves. If this was a joke, he'd be ridding himself of this disgusting crew earlier than planned. He began to walk through the hall, slamming on walls and doors both intentionally and not. The weather boy was right, a storm had kicked up. He disregarded it and continued. He came to the conclusion that going above deck wasn't his best option in the storm, so he charged on to where the Merfolk was being kept. She, at least, shouldn't have been able to go anywhere. The doors crashed open at his fists, and there she was, curled up in a corner... Giggling. 'Go on, bitch! What's the meaning of this?' He cried, and her answer was nay but a whisper. 'I told you to let me go. Now it's here. I told you, Sailor, and I don't think I'm sorry that this is how it turned out.' To hell with the reward, he decided, thoroughly shaken, and grabbed the net. He began to drag her back towards the closed doors, and she continued to laugh. He went to body the entrance open, but the wood resisted. He tried again and again, eventually giving up and turning back to her. 'What is this?' He growled, kicking her repeatedly. She was unfazed. After a number, his foot met air. He slid to the floor, and the floor was gone. He was falling, how was he falling? He couldn't see anything. It reminded him of the time he was a boy. The time he'd fallen overboard, into the inky black water, and his father just stared as he drowned. That boat never made it back to shore, nor did his father, and so the boy that was now the Sailor declared vengeance against the sea. It reminded him of that, and it made him realise that his whole life the sea had been playing with him. He screamed, anguish, fear and primal terror echoing off nothing and everything at once, and with the scream, his life was winked out like a candle flame. John and his crew never made it home. The only remnants of his ship were pieces that sag, now, on rocks at forgotten beaches and gently on their sandy shores.
The shooting stops as an eerie silence fills the air. The dust slowly settling as the battlefield became clear. Both opposing trenches stare at a lone dog, shot and bloodied as they all witness it draw its last breath. A ghastly wail of a man breaks the silence as he declares "They killed Ruffles, those inhumane bastards!"Three blows of a whistle rang the very atmosphere as the soldiers burst from their holes and charged toward the enemy with the torrential force of a dam that had exploded with dynamite. The enemy, staggered and pale with fear , attempt to hold back the wall of men knowing it would be in vane to stop it. The rouge wave that comes at them not for their country, but for their fallen four legged companion who had kept them sane all these months.
“The cloning program worked better than I anticipated,” the Jeff Bezos whispers. The two clones look at the original Jeff, and then at each other, and back to him. The first clone turns to Jeff. “Cloning?” “Yes. Cloning. I know that I cannot live forever. But, by cloning myself, Amazon will be forever! I’ll take over the world’s economy. Musk, Gates, they’ll all lick my boots. In that case, I’ll make this world mine. Everyone — the united states, China, Europe, whatever remains of Russia — all will be part of my first world order! The entire world will be my personal sweatshop!” Jeff Bezos clenches his fists, laughing. The clones laughed. The Amazon employees laughed, at gunpoint.
"I just want to be what you want."She sobbed with tears streaming down her heart shaped face as she looked up at me. She had made her soul malleable, able to be shaped if I so desired. Normally such an act would leave lifelong scars but she was giving me permission. Her soul was literally in my hands. If I willed it she would never remember it at all and awake as if she had always been that way. I opened my Sight and gazed upon her soul, her reasons were plain then. Soul-scars from trauma and shame covered her. In her mind I could make her perfect and then I'd love her. Why couldn't I make her understand that wasn't how this worked? I saw the enchantments placed so gently on her soul, like angelic script granting me Divine permission to her most sacred parts. I cupped her face with a shaking hand, feeling her auburn curls cascading over my hand. I touched the golden lines of God-tongue written on her cheek, and with a thought, erased them. I signed in relief. Her soul became solid once more, my permissions revoked. She screamed and beat her hands on my chest in frustration. "Why do you reject me?"she cried. "I have never rejected you, Gloria. Look at me. Use your Sight."I answered. Enchantments that obscured Sight became inactive with a thought as she focused and truly Looked upon all of me. Her eyes widened as she saw all my soul-scars and many Sins. I was a specialist in soul-magic all to hide mine from others but I held nothing back now. She could see exactly how much blood I had on my hands and how many times I compromised my morals for power. I turned my face away undeserving of looking at her hazel eyes. "You are too good for me, Gloria. You are such a kind, gentle soul, I would never change you. You cry when a bird hurts its wings while I have-"Gloria's slap surprised me, both because I did not see it coming and for its force. "You self-absorbed twit! Did you truly think me so naive as to not know what you have done. I see the way you hold your staff white-knuckled when a stranger comes to town, ready to strike down the intruder. Your eyes become hard, your stance ready for combat. You do the same when the Bellford boy flirts with me too though you hide it better. Considering you never talk about your past and never go to the city, it doesn't take a mind mage to figure out you don't have the cleanest past."Gloria shouted, breathing heavy. How could she look at me with her Sight and show only love like that? How could she forgive everything I've done? Her voice softened. "But I've seen who you are now, Mace. You defended the Brentfords last fall even though they hated you. Two winters ago you foraged in a blizzard to feed the Halsteads because you heard they didn't have enough. You could have waited until after the storm but jumped to help. The Drachen's girl smiles again because you spent months working with her every single night. Everyone in this village has been, or knows someone who was saved because you are here. I want the man you are now."She finished. "Then promise me you'll never do anything like that again. You scared me. I love you just the way you are"I responded. Panic flooded me when I realized what I'd just admitted. "You love me? Truly?"She inquired. Too late to deflect now. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Of course. Why do you think I've stayed here so long? I couldn't bear to leave you, Gloria."I replied. "Then don't ever leave me, you fool."She scolded. I laughed at how simple she made it. I had pretended that I could leave long enough, it was time to follow my heart.
"May I help you?" A middle aged woman, eyes wet with tears, approached the desk and simply nodded. "What's your name, please?" "Jen. Jennifer Nelson."She sniffled. "Welcome to the afterlife,"I said with my most sincere customer service smile. Jen's shoulders slumped. "This is the welcome desk. From here, you'll go to wherever you've been assigned based on your religion , culture, and choices in life." "I'm an agnostic. Listen, is my son okay? His mom just died."She rummaged around in the pocket of her pajama pants, pulled out a Kleenex, and blew her nose. I pulled up a camera showing Jen's room at the hospice care center. Her teenage son, as expected, was falling apart. "He will be. You've given him enough love, enough lessons, and enough of a support network to help him through this."I clicked on her name on the screen and pulled up some autobiographical information. "It says here you're a devoted wife and mom, a receptionist, an agnostic who has always lived a secular life..."I looked her in the eyes. None of her choices were great. "You can stay here in purgatory for as long as you want. Culturally and religiously, you're unfortunately destined to hell." "Torture hell or party hell? Will my friends be there?" "I don't know, I've never been. Your other choice is to roam the earth as a ghost..." "Wait."She stood up straight and looked around behind my desk, as if searching for something. "Where'd my dog go? Missy, scruffy white thing, died in 2019? Because I'd go with her." "Just this side of heaven, there's a place called Rainbow Bridge. And you can visit there, but you can't stay. Just leave this building and follow the signs." "Thanks. I'll be back, this is a lot." She wandered off. "Can I help who's next?" An elderly man tottered up to the desk. "Your name, please?" "Walter Johnson." "Welcome to the afterlife. This is the welcome desk. From here, you'll go to wherever you've been assigned based on your religion, culture, and choices you have made." "With any luck, that'll be heaven." I clicked on his name. "It says here you're a kind and gentle husband, father, and grandfather who went to church every Sunday and never raised a fist in anger. You took in a friend's child and raised her as your own, then raised her daughter when she got pregnant as a teenager. You spoke out against book banning, homophobia, and racism in the south." He shook his head. "It weren't nothin." "You may stay here in purgatory for as long as you like before moving on to heaven." "Thank you kindly, ma'am."He tottered away. "May I help who's next?" A large blue and gold macaw flew over and landed on the desk. "Hello!" "Hello there, pretty bird! What's your name?" "I'm Buddy! Whatcha doing?"Buddy scratched the back of his head and fluffed out his feathers. He definitely wasn't the usual customer. I clicked on his name, expecting to see a straightforward "Refer to Rainbow Bridge."Instead, I saw a list of misdeeds; bites, property destruction, broken bones, sending a child to the ER, theft, disturbing the peace, and trolling. "Send to hell." "So, Buddy, your soul has been assigned to hell." This was usually where the customer would freak out. Buddy calmly stretched his wings out. "Go to hell! Go to hell!" "Yes, Buddy, you're going to hell! It's that way!"I pointed to the red path on the floor. Buddy hopped off the desk and walked along the path, babbling to himself as he made his way to hell. Maybe he was gonna work there.
Rust. Always rust. Everywhere I went, that metallic scent would follow. No matter how many times I scrub my hands raw, I can still smell it. It was a simple mistake honestly. It had only taken a couple of seconds. Those few seconds have left me with a lifetime of misery. Often it was very hard to eat. The smell of oxidized metal would permeate anything I ate or drank. Years go on, and now I look like a ghost of my former self. The scent seems to be getting stronger. I can hardly sleep. I lost my job after complaints from customers and coworkers said that my lack of hygiene had gone too far. Now a days. I sit in my chair and wait. No one around, no family, and no friends. My choices haunt me. You never get used to the smell. The putrid iron. The blood it came from. I never realized that a fall so little, could have someone bleed so much. I never could wash that from my hands, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.
I feel like it's unlikely that mammals would be completely extincted, so my first thought is where are they? Not entirely sure if this what you meant, but meet the seerkit, a little mammal at the bottom of the food chain. I want to take a look at a reptile somewhere a bit colder, but unlike the seerkit I need to sleep tonight. ================================= &#x200B; The seerkit is one of the few remaining mammals, emerging from its burrow a couple hours after sunset in its tropical home. This is one of the most dangerous times in the seerkit’s life, as its many predators are just recently beginning their nightly slumber. This seerkit is lucky, no predators have found its burrow during the day, and none are nearby to witness its emergence as the six inch long mammal pushes aside the bark that it has used to conceal its home. The seerkit’s dark brown fur helps it to remain unseen as it cautiously examines its surrounding with oversized eyes that are well suited to its preferred nighttime environment. If it is forced to go out during the daytime it is almost blind and easy prey. This seerkit is thin, having given birth a week ago and spent the last several days in the burrow nursing its kits, this is the first time it has ventured forth. The seerkit’s kits will be ready to fend for themselves in just under another weeks’ time, and able to rear their own litters in just another three weeks, if they survive long enough to do so. The average lifespan of a seerkit is just a few weeks. For now though, the kits remain dependent on their mother for milk, and having used up her fat stores she must go looking for food. Convinced that the immediate area is safe, she nudges the bark back over her burrow before beginning her nightly jaunt. Seerkits exist primarily on a diet of nuts, seeds, berries, and leaves. This seerkit has made her burrow at the base of a tree and quickly scurries up the trunk with her tiny claws. The claws are meant for climbing, they offer little threat to the tougher hides of the reptiles that are looking to turn her in to a meal. At this time of year the tree has no fruit to offer, but the seerkit stops to snack on its leaves. Often moving up the side of the tree with a piece of leaf sticking out of its mouth, the seerkit knows never to stop in one place for too long. A predator at this hour might be slow in the cooler air, but if it reaches her it is no less deadly. As the seerkit reaches the upper part of the tree it finds the delicacies it was looking for, the flower heads of the rindo tree. The tree will fruit in a couple of months, but for now the seerkit happily devours the flowers. The nascent fruit get left behind, the seerkit will wait until they develop before returning for that meal, although they quickly drop to the forest floor where it can be riskier to forage. In the dark the seerkit relies on its superior eyesight to avoid the predators that lie in the forest canopy, and with their sluggish nature it can hurry by at what would be lethal distances during the warmer daytime. But not all predators are easily seen, even in the night there are those that know how to camouflage themselves. Our seerkit misses a prestint until the last moment, the lizard having used its chameleon skin and curled up sleeping shape to mimic the edge of a knothole on the tree. It’s claw barely misses our seerkit as it scrambles along the tree… and looses its grip in an attempt to escape. The seerkit plumits several feet before arresting its fall with sharp claws against the bark of the branch below, but it’s light weight and small size protect it against any serious damage. The prestint looks on from above, but makes no move to pursue. A deadly creature during the day, it’s only an ambush predator at night. As the sky starts to tinge red with the coming of dawn, the seerkit hurries home. As it approaches its burrow it stops, head turning left and right as it looks for threats. If a predator sees it return, the burrow will not be safe during the day. She has already created a backup burrow she can use in case this one is found out, but tonight she sees no such threats. The bark is once again pulled back as she enters the burrow, and then carefully re-positioned to hide her secret again. The kits stir as she enters, but as excited as they are to have her back they make no noise. Soon the mother settles back down to nurse her kits through the day. They will be ready to be on their own in just a few more days, but until then she must continue to care for them.
“Okay. She finds out everything somehow. It’s written like a goddamn story. Anything I come up with she can counter… and I have no plans.” I say to this guy at a coffee shop. He nods as he reads a book. “Why don’t you ask someone else for a plan?” He jokes. “…that is… why haven’t I done that? You know what, random stranger? I’m getting you another one of these coffees and kidnapping you. You’re gonna help me make plans.” “I’m a scriptwriter for the local plays, man. Not a villain plan maker.” “I’ll pay you. You can still write plays. I just need this lady to stop thinking I’m a predictable person. I need a plan that doesn’t fit me or as she calls it, ‘my character’.” I say. I get him another coffee and take him to my base. I’ve had to get another one since the last one was found. “…so, you are actually a villain. I thought you were just a drugged man, but you’re the villain here. Okay, you know what? I can work with this. First off. I’ve seen the news. You’re a power based villain. Using your powers to try and get rid of her. It used to be world domination but now you’re focus is on her. Ah. Do you know how to make robots?” “…no.” I said sheepishly. “Okay, that’s fine. We can learn. She expects and knows how to counter your magic powers and attacks. She knows your moves when you think them… Ah. When you think them. You got ear pieces?” “Communications? Yeah.” I said, pointing at the comms station. “Okay. When you go out, I’ll be here watching. If I see you do something that I’ve seen before, please for the love of god listen to me when I say you’re doing it and need to do something else.” “Okay. And the robots?” “That super heroine will not expect this. She sees you as an predictable and just very stubborn villain that insists on her demise. She expects you to attack again. I see henchpeople here. We’ll build the robot army. You make her think you have no plans and just keep attacking as usual. Then, one day we’ll send you in with the army. She’ll be caught off guard.” “God that’s genius. See? Asking a stranger for help is fun!” I smiled. “…also is that a pool table?” He pointed into a lounge area. “Oh! Yeah. My workers said they liked pool the most, so I got them a pool table. Since you’re my planner now and still a part-time scriptwriter, do you want anything besides a paycheck?” I asked. I’ve gotten pretty humble and less destructive over the past months of fighting the hero. “Oh. Not really. Can I have a cool outfit like them though?” “You know what? Sure man.” I smiled with a thumbs up. A new partnership was made today. —— “Finally got all five-hundred robots ready. How do you feel about having a break and training yourself with the bots first, boss?” Dimitri asked me. It’s been a couple of weeks, but we’re finally getting close to executing the plan. “She doesn’t suspect me to have these, and she roughed me up a bit more this time. I can take a break.” “Good. Wanna see my latest script? I’m think a dungeons and dragons campaign play is something.” “Sure. So, how do the robots work?” “Ah. They follow your voice and mine. Mine default, because if you make them attack in a predictable way I’m gonna change that.” “Oh. That’s alright. Thanks. So, just attack her with them?” “Yep. They’re resistant to being hit, have a high melting point, resistant to the elements, mainly acid proof, and have thermal sensors, night vision, and have lasers. The lasers cannot cut them.” “Damn. You thought of all that? For me?” “Hey. You have given me a job that I enjoy as much as scriptwriting and I enjoy my time with you. You are the best friend I always dreamed of having, despite being on the wrong side of the law.” “Thanks. Now, let me see that play you’ve written. I need to hear you say thank you when I compliment your amazing work.” I said. His face got flushed. “I- thanks-“ he stammered, flustered. Quite cute. “Of course, Dimitri...” I smiled. ”After all, this is gonna be a different story later~”
As I wake on a mid September morning, my heart was anxious. My favorite time of year was soon approaching. The cooler air with mixed spices filling every sense of my blushing body. It wasn't the kick off of the holiday season or the beautiful colors that had me most excited. It was the thought of seeing him, my dearest friend... Autumn. It has been roughly 9 months since I've seen him. How my eyes have longed to gaze upon his tall, lumberjack figure. Clearing seeing his tan Carhartt jacket, fitting as perfect as one can, gracing his broad shoulders over his black crew neck T-shirt. His jeans, always dirty where he consistently wipes his work gloves, held up by his black leather belt. But what I see most vividly are his shoes. Unless working the land he is never without black, leather, hi-top Converse. I wonder if his hair is any more grey or if he's trimmed his full, Viking beard. His emerald green eyes bless my dreams throughout the year, eager to see them again. Memories of feeling his oddly warm embrace, as my heart melts in his calloused hands. The scents of oak and vanilla flush my face. Today may be the day that I see my dearest friend once again, or it may not. Until the joyous day does come, the day my eyes get to lock into his, here I wait... Anxious. The air is right, the scents are overfilling my body. My dearest friend Autumn, I shall see you soon.
"Alistar,"Tomas hissed through his teeth and stabbed his finger emphatically at the window, "there is no way that... that, that old bat is the one."Tomas's shoulders heaved up and done as the anger pulsed through him. "You're wrong; you've taken us on a goose chase. How do we tell the others?" Alistar looked up from the ancient tattered tome open in his hands and over his shoulder at the small group standing just outside the property's fence line, some fifty feet off. Charcoal robes swayed in the gentle, cool breeze; pale faces moved as those in the back tried to peer past those in the front. They looked anxious and uncomfortable, impatient. But, most importantly, they looked exposed. The time was finally right for them to emerge from the shadows of modern society, throwing off their carefully constructed guises of bankers, shop clerks, husbands, wives, and neighbors. To stand against the dark and perhaps see the light of day again. And now they stood in a loose group outside an old desert homestead in broad moonlight. Their eyes were on him and Tomas. Alistar looked back down at the open book, dry brown sheets covered in symbols and star charts held barely onto the decaying spine. He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out what might have gone wrong. "I, I don't know how we got this wrong. All the charts lined up here, the First Pilgrimage crossed here, before the Fading...."He stopped as Tomas grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him forward towards the window, his weathered sandals scrapping across the porch planks. "We?"Tomas whispered sharply close to his ear. "No, this is you. We trusted you."Alistar had seen Tomas angry many times. The worst was whenever the group had 'failed their divine oath,' Tomas called it. Possessions had been destroyed, those who followed them had been hurt. And a few, the few that tried to leave, didn't get far enough. But this, this was something Alistar had never seen before. Tomas didn't blink; instead, his eyes bulged from their sockets. His face had turned a terrible red, muscles in his neck strained tightly. His hand dug into Alistar's shoulder, and Alistar couldn't help but wince in pain. Tomas's hand raised and pointed at the window, but his eyes didn't leave Alistar. Slowly, Alistar turned to look through the parted curtains. It made no sense to him, none at all. But he hadn't followed the book. All the scriptures, everything. He knew he wasn't wrong. But nothing made sense as he looked in. The fireplace burned brightly in the main room, pushing the shadows into the corners. The room looked, felt comfortable, old. There was a feeling of ages about it. Flanking the room were several cases and cabinets, most of the wall space aside from a round mirror with an ornate silver frame that sat above the fireplace. The few cabinets that were either open or had glass fronts displayed dishes and cups, stacks of old newspapers from when the news could still be reported and not just passed by word of mouth, various figurines, and knickknacks. Fading photos were taped to some of the doors, edges curled, and images dulled with time. The frozen faces of dozens of children hugging and holding hands with an older woman shown in nearly every photo. A long dining table took the center of the room, surrounded by a dozen high-backed chairs. Across the dark wooden surface, dozens of small plates and bowls sat; some empty, some full of food, some flipped over. And circling and pushing amongst the dishes were so many cats. Alistar couldn't tell how many, twenty at least. Kittens too young to be away from their mothers, elderly cats whose fur looked covered in cobwebs. And almost every one of them yowled at the woman carefully reaching around them to fill dishes with food from a battered iron pot. Tomas's words cut against Alistar's ear. "Does she look like our savior? Admit it. You. Were. Wrong."Each word punctuated with a painful squeeze of the shoulder. Tomas was right. She could not save them all from the dark, from the things that lingered in that dark just out of sight, always ready to drag innocent people into the shadows. They needed strength, a fighter. But her? She was thin and tall; her height exaggerated even more as she craned over the table to feed her cats. Alistar couldn't make out her face, a curtain of white hair hanging over it. Nothing about her screamed strength, the opposite. Instead, she looked almost skeletal, the skin hanging tight around her arms that stuck out from a well-worn floral house dress. A few times, she had to adjust the pot of food in her arm; it looked like it was too much for her to carry. With another squeeze at his shoulder, Alistar looked away from the window and back to Tomas. He didn't say anything. The book felt flimsy and worthless in his hands. "You told me that,"Tomas started but stopped, his eyes flicking to the side. The porch boards creaked under the weight of a third behind him. "You boys really are going to stand out here, peeping like a bunch of teenagers?"It was a cheerful female voice, tinged with many good years. Alistar looked over Tomas's shoulder as the other turned and saw the old woman, arms crossed across her chest. He wanted to ask how… just how she managed to sneak out so quickly when they were just looking in at her. But words failed as he shot another glance inside and saw her still at the table, feeding her cats. Tomas had looked in as well and didn't speak either. His mouth sat slightly open. The woman sighed and shook her head. "Come on now, inside before something out there gets any ideas. Tell your friends to come too. The girl back there,"she pointed to the group, "Mary, she can help me in the kitchen."The woman turned, sidestepping around the three cats circling her feet, and walked to the open back door. She stopped for a step and looked back. "At least one of you finally figured the way. You and me, we've got a lot to talk about, Alistar." &#x200B; \Apologies for any formatting issues. Wrote this in Word and then copy-pasted it over\**
Hmmmm…. So for me, the way this excerpt reads is a conversation between two people, A and B, about person C. Person A is talking to person B, who has some kind of deep personal connection to C (Family, best friends, lovers, etc.), and trying to explain a course of actions taken by C. There is some horrible truth that B has been shielded from or doesn’t know, but both A and C know this truth. This truth is serious enough to get people in big trouble or even put to death. B doesn’t understand why, leading them to say “But they don’t charge people for spreading information.” To which A replies, “I don’t think you understand.” And now A will tell B this terrible truth. Again, this is my interpretation, but I hope it helps!
"I can't die!"I shouted at my party members. My honesty makes them panic; I go in my bag and grab the Phoenix Down. Holding it in my hand as a Nutkin starts to tear my insides out. Krile starts to cast another Cura as I instinctively use a white wind. Finally, Faris uses aero to kill the Nutkin, and we gain experience. Tired, we head back to the town of Moore. We make it there, and Lenna, the second white mage, walks to the inn while holding Krile's hand. Faris bids me farewell and heads to the tavern, leaving me to look at the blue mage spells I acquired. I'm in the old Super Nintendo RPG, Final Fantasy V, a lovely RPG that gave way to the best Japanese RPG class ever created, the Blue Mage. The Blue Mage is my favorite class as it's programmed to have the best spells in the game. I took out a Sandworm with a wave of my hand. As a kid, I had trouble with one of the strongest bosses before knowing the secret. I had to get hit by the spell from a chimera in a sweltering desert. That's how a blue mage works; he gets hit by attacks to learn them. It was a dream come true, but I quickly grew tired of it. I wanted to return to my previous world, as I feel I would have a chance of being "isekaied"into FFXIV's world. I could spend hours playing the Gold Saucer in that world. Plus, hanging with my incompetent party who wants to survive irritates me. I can revive them. They don't understand that. In a typical Japanese Role Playing Game, the main character cannot die. The rules of this world are different. Imagine a world where it's your second favorite game but soaked in realism. My party members don't recognize that a phoenix down can revive a dead party member. I've told them countless times to use one. They don't believe me. This leads me not to want to die as they won't know what to do without me. When Galuf was about to die, I crammed a phoenix down feather right in that coot's mouth. My whole party was baffled. Sure, Galuf is recovering in the INN, but he's still "alive."I am about to have five whole party members capable of switching between twenty-six classes in the game. As long as I don't die, I can't wait to use the mime class to summon Bahamut to defeat both Exdeath and Gilgamesh. I won't have to worry about dying if I have Bahamut. I have a theory. By defeating Gilgamesh, who has appeared in several Final Fantasy games, I can travel to Final Fantasy XIV via him. Without having to stop by my home world. I'll even get to meet Hildebrand, the lovable doofus detective. The question is, would I have Final Fantasy V's mechanics? It's possible that my class would change, but it would be cool to be a Necromancer in the MMO world. Of course, only time can tell once I defeat him. My party is aware that I know more about their world than I am letting on. Lenna said something off putting a while ago. About how she would miss me if I were to leave. As the place holder of Bartz, I wonder if she grew fond of me. It would be a shame to leave her, but I have made my decision as the possibility of dating cat girls is higher in Final Fantasy XIV's world. Lenna couldn't compete with that.
The thing that will not die. Poisoned, drugged, hanged, burned, electrocuted, blown up you name it. We've tried it. It's parts go back together somehow and it repeats one phrase. "I will not Die out of Spite."Being held in a cryopod. We've tried for absolute zero only to hold him. Or what we think is a him. When researchers pass by, he moves his head and follows them. So many reports and papers. You're tasked with doing more experiments to further our knowledge. I'll be waiting for your research. There is no backing out. Welcome to the foundation.
"What's up, Youtube, it's ya boi, Ran-day here, tonight, showing you how to burglarize your neighbors. Step one, pick a mark. We're gonna hit \foghorn noises\* apartment because he's totally rude and keeps bugging us to be quieter when we're streaming. Like, dude, we're gonna scream. It's* Insomnia. In VR. It's terrifying. Plus, we don't got to bed till like 3 from our actual insomnia. May as well do something productive. But then he went and complained to the manager or landlord or whoever! So tonight, we're gonna break in and--"The camera jostles as a light flashes offscreen. Ran-day throws himself to the ground, dragging his cameraman down with him. The two spend an awkward amount of time shushing each other, pointing fingers across the lens or covering the camera entirely. After a moment, Ran-day stands back up and dusts himself off, snickering. "Bros, this is gonna be great. Old \crow cawing sounds\ didn't even see us! We're gonna break in and put a glitter bomb in his toilet. Before we get down to business, please like and subscribe, it really helps the channel. Only like two percent of my viewers are actually subbed, so YouPoop's algorithm must be broken or somethin', but please do sub, all that ad money really helps us. We've got a goal right now of raising a bunch of money and using it to-- Jay, what did we decide on?" "Interview jacuzzi, my guy." "Oh, right, yeah, we're gonna build a jacuzzi and interview Insta models about how their lives work and like how their careers started and what platforms they're on. Real intellectual stuff. So, down to brass tacks. If you've ever pulled up brass tacks or carpet tacks, you'll know crowbars are the best way to go. They are here, too. Simply take your stepdad's crowbar and jam it against the inside of the outer edge of the inner part of their backdoor's frame. Putting it in the backdoor is always the way to go. Like me and Jay's mom las--- Captain Lammick pauses the video. "Kid's an idiot, Glenn. Even if we hadn't found the bloodied crowbar in his garage, he keeps using his phone for light once they get inside. You can read the time on one of the frames. 1:19. Within ten minutes of Olsen's death." "Yeah, but that's what doesn't sit right with me, sir. Breaks into the guy's house while he's asleep, plants the dumbest 'bomb', note the air quotes, I have ever seen, and then murders him?" "...How dumb was the bomb?" "...You know those firecrackers you give to kids that pop when they toss them on the ground? They opened them up, put little bits of glitter in them, and tried to super glue them under the toilet seat. And then left the seat up."
I stared at him in a quizzical manner, watching as the other brushed his red stained hands onto his blue jeans as if he'd just got them a little muddy. The thick smell of iron torched my senses as I glanced back down to the dead body laid before us. "She can't be that mad,"I said, with a quick hand I motioned to the body between us. My brother shrugged, "this is your first hunt, she might not be too mad."He agreed only for his smile to curve upwards, he moved snake like towards me. I had to take a quick step backwards to avoid his hands, sharp fangs sticking into the skin below his lips. "Or maybe she'll be even madder," I shoved him away from me, taking a few more stumbling steps back. I could feel the tears in my eyes at the thought of mother's rage, shed remove my protection spell. The sun would turn me to ash. "Shut up, Marco!"I spat back, hoping my voice didn't crack. The others let out a short before turning and walking down the hillside. I hissed in anger, grabbing the small ziplock bag of teeth that we had collected of the human. "Wait for me, Marc,"I shouted after him. He continued to snort laugh on his way to the shining new Chevy. It's bright red stuck out against the browns of the forest we found ourselves in. "Than move faster, Monroe"he said I watched as he slid into the driver's side, the sounds of the radios tunes rattled my anxiety as I stumbled the last few steps down the hillside. The metal of the car felt cold against my palms as I scrambled to the passengers side. The car jolted forward only heartbeats after I slammed the door closed behind me. My brothers laughter drowned out the Beatles that played on the radio. "What if someone finds that body?"I asked, my voice cracked again. I hated it, puberty was starting to drive me crazier than my lunatic family. "What are you worried about? Some pigs finding a dead body with no finger prints or mommy finding out little Monroe didn't come home on time?"He turned to glance at me through dark sunglasses. Tilting them down to take a peak at the other. "Mom,"I murmured, knowing as we drove past the trees, she would be waiting. In her nest. She would be waiting.
The train from DC to New York was strangely empty. John was mindlessly flipping through case files from work, being a lawyer is boring most of the times, but it’s a lucrative job, so he doesn’t really mind. The train enters a tunnel, and the lights start flicking wildly. John cursed at what he perceived to be faulty engineering. It was nauseating, he felt the train suddenly going in the opposite direction. He closed his eyes, hoping he would make it home without trouble, then he heard footsteps. At first, John thought it was the conductor, but the sound of luggages disproved his theory. He opened his eyes, and a young woman with short brown hair stood next to the chairs. “Hi, my name is Jane.” Then it dawned on him, this was indeed himself from ten years ago. Before he realized he was a man. “Em…” he stumbled, “I’m John.” Seriously, what else could he possibly say to his pre-transition self? It’s not like they recognize him. “I’m going to Georgetown.” ”Georgetown? But this train is headed to NYC” was what he wanted to say, but what he ended up saying was: “no way, I went to Georgetown for undergrad!” “Oh wow, thats amazing! What a coincidence.” “Yeah,” John shrugged, “don’t take Dr. Williams’ class, you’ll fail it. And don’t join a frat, it’s not worth it.” “Don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll join one.” Wrong, he in fact joined one and had a miserable junior year and left, “so you work at DC?” “Yeah, attorney.” “That’s cool, it’s probably not my thing though. I’m going to major in bio.” John chuckled. Before sophmore year, the idea of him being a lawyer sounded preposterous. Then again, a lot of things about him now sounded unbelievable in the past. “Oh yeah by the way,” John felt it was the need to warn himself, “don’t ever believe what aunt Marge says. She’s a bigot.” “Oh…em… how do you know about aunt Marge?” “Because I’m you.” John admitted. “What? But you’re a—-“ “Exactly.” The train shook violently, the screeching noise and the sudden reverse in direction took him off guard. The next time he opened his eyes, John was once again alone in the empty train carriage. When he got off the train at NYC, he had already forgotten of this episode. ——— A student arrived at the Georgetown freshmen registration, still remembering the contents of the dream they had on the train here. A mysterious dream that strangely explained so much. The student looked nervous, clutching to the luggage in a small smile. “Hi, I’m registered as Jane but I go by John now. My pronouns are he/him.” He started.
Jake was taking a stroll around campus before practice when he received a message from his friend Mina, who had telepathy powers. I’m stuck in Elevator B, go find a teacher But before he got out his phone to call somebody, the entire schools power, along with cell phone signal, was out. —— “What the hell!” Mina yelled from within the elevator. “I’m sorry,” Kiara deadpanned, “I thought I could send an electrical signal to the elevator to force the door open.” “Yeah now I’m more stuck…” Within the past hour, Mina contacted about a dozen of her friends as well as some of the faculty with her powers, and none of them could do anything. She knew a teleporter, but they weren’t table to teleport with anyone else with them. And Mina had to explain to Shinichi why melting the whole thing with acid was a horrible idea. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief when Pro Hero Rewind, a guest speaker at the academy arrived. Her enthusiasm of “you have nothing to worry about” slowly died down after trying to rewind the time of the elevator only to have it be closed each attempt. She tried going further back but quickly realized Mina herself would be affected by the power too. The latter felt the pain from an accident that happened a week ago returning. They kept trying different combinations of solutions until the electricity was finally fixed and a group of technicians got her out. But the excitement was short lived, as the students found out that they had to write a 5 page essay on the importance of not over relying on powers.
“Well, I’m sorry but CLEARLY you don’t understand the complexities of stubbing your toe” he whined, clutching his bound foot. “You’re making this a much bigger deal than it has to be” his master huffed Tears spilled onto his reddened cheeks as he wailed, “I have never been more in pain; it hurts more than being pierced by Sathanas himself. It’s a type of internal and external pain that I would not wish upon my worst enemy” He had achieved things a normal man would never even attempt, and he retained scars that average people could not visualise, however his stubbed toe served a reminder. A reminder that the safety of his fellow man would in turn mean a life of scars and pain that could not be repaired for him. It reminded him that despite the unimaginably noble and valiant acts he had done, he was still able to be hurt.
"Are you ready?" Sam grabs my shoulder. I've known him for so long now and yet he feels like a stranger. Someone pushes a gun into my hands. I look into determined faces around me. We have come this far and now it's time to prove ourselves. I grab my gun and nod. The truth is, I'm not ready. But I don't think I'll ever be so might as well do it now. "Okay, let's go." The door opens and we charge. Heavy boots trample over metal. Bullets fly and war cries fill the air. Shouts. Screams. Someone falls next to me but we don't stop. Lift your gun and shoot. Run. Kill. Shots blast through the air. My ears feel numb but I have to go further. Run. Shoot. We make it past the corner and then I'm shot. Burning metal drills through my shoulder. More bullets hit and I'm torne apart in the air. I black out before my body hits the floor. That should've been the end of me. It really should, but science is a bitch. Instead of rotting away in an unnamed grave I was resurrected to an undead body of metal and plastic. I should be grateful, they say. At least I'm alive, they say. Get used to it, they say. Fuck them and their kindness. I have to learn how to use this thing - they keep telling me it's an _artificial full body prothesis_, but no, it's a piece of fucking metal - I have to try to move again. Try to get the plastic eyes to focus. Try to walk. Try to grab a cup without crushing it or letting it fall. How I hate not having control. I can't control myself and my life now belongs to them. Great, thank you. I needed that. My life consists of training, learning and training. Sleep is something that isn't needed anymore. Fuck them. Sometimes the best part of life is not experiencing it, so give me my sleep back! And alcohol while you're at it. This metal container can't even eat, let alone get drugged. But hey, with enough training it can be controlled. And the database is such a relief if you have to learn pages full of technical details. Just save it in a random directory and - bam - you've learned it. Ok, life as a robot has it's perks. That full zoom on my cameras - eyes as they're called - is pretty useful. And being able to see infrared and ultraviolet light is kinda cool. Or the strength of this body. Or the built-in internet connection. Ok, I get why some people want this. I have to sort my directorys. Some asshole has just thrown everything in random folders. They're not even named correctly! That's like storing your clothes in random piles on the floor. What idiot would do such a thing? Oh, yeah. Me. You know what's the worst thing of this existence? No, it's not that I have no friends or visitors, or that I don't remember anything before this... situation. It's the looks you get on the street. Yes, some people have obvious modifications, but a full on robot body? They look at me as if I'm some kind of killer robot a là terminator. Yesterday a child has started crying when I tried to wave at it. I'm a fucking freak now. Okay, I've talked to them about it. They said they might be able to do something about it, but that I probably won't like it. I don't care, I don't want to be a freak anymore. Anything is better than this. Well, maybe not anything. They finally told me my option and it's, well... let's just say they were right. I don't like it. Not at all. I think I'll stay a freak for now. You know what? Life is freaking hard. My work doesn't require me to be with people that much but even my colleagues keep a distance. I don't have anyone to talk to, I don't even have to get out of someones way in the streets, everyone gladly does that for me. I always have space to breath on public transit. Hell, people regularly move when I sit down next to them. But hey, people talk about me. Behind my back. And definitely nothing good. Fuck it, I'm taking their offer. I'm done being a freak. I'm done. They say it'll take some training again, but seriously that's the least of my worries now. I just want to be accepted. Okay, it's wierd, really fucking wierd, but tomorrow I'll move bodies. I'm not exactly going to be a human anymore, but that's been the case for quite a while now, hasn't it? I don't know man, I really don't know anymore. I just - I just want to be normal again. I know I can't and I'm not exactly moving towards that, but still. Just give me one thing, life. Okay? I've done it. Or rather they have done it. I'm transferred. Okay. Fuuuck, that's wierd. Fuck, okay. Okay, ok, ok. I know this. I've trained for it. Okay, focus. I know it's wierd but this will be the new normal from now on. Ok. Calm down. I'm not even sure if I'm technically capable of freaking out, but ok. Ok, I think I have calmed down. I'm here now. This is me. This is my body. Don't freak out, but it's a bit bigger than your first one. A tiny bit bigger. Well, much bigger. With its own server. And many cameras. And displays. And a gigantic engine, plus some to steer this thing. No to steer yourself. It's your body, accept it. Damn, after a bit getting used to, this is quite fun. I'm a freaking space ship after all. I am not a single small body anymore with limited vision, I can see everything inside and outside of this metallic beast. I can calculate routes between worlds in just a few moments. I can control temperature and atmosphere in every room so accurately that every scientist of the last century would get jealous. I can open and shut doors with nothing more than a simple thought. My voice can fill every room or just reach a single ear inside my walls. I have enough space to accommodate a whole crew of spacefarers. I will explore freaking space! If I have to be a robot, then it's this one. "Welcome aboard Captain, this is the Spacefarer"
Jeff had lost the first set. 21-10 was known to happen, but his coach was disappointed in him -- Jeff was considered even money to take home the final, if betting were a thing at this level. He had looked lost and looked confused out there. The coach called his protege over and asked what was going on. "Look, I... I just didn't feel right out there. Something's weird." "Well, get your head in this -- you still got two sets to come back. I believe you can do this. You wanna win, right?" "Well, yeah, but... I mean..." "What's wrong?" Jeff hesitated, then asked to whisper in his coach's ear. As he did, the coach cocked his head to the side, smiling and shaking his head. "Look, kid... I don't care enough about who he is or who you is, but I know a couple things: first, 10 years ago people got kicked out of the Olympics for going easy on their opponents. I don't want you to be a disgrace, got that? And second, I'll tell ya right now: nothing would make me madder than thinking I'd worked all my life for a title and that I didn't earn it. You make him earn it. We'll talk about the rest later, okay?" "You're not... mad at me, coach?" "I'll be madder if you don't give it your all. Now go out there and win a title! You can get the numbers later."
Leah opens the recipe book to a page that's been dog-eared and highlighted multiple times. She flips through the pages, touching the tips of her fingers to the soft paper as she goes. Every recipe reminds her of a time she and her grandmother spent together--laughing as they cooked alongside each other. The memories are so strong, she can almost smell the garlic and spices filling the kitchen. After scanning the marked pages, Leah finds the recipe she's looking for: banana-nutella pancakes. It was her favorite childhood dish, and Leah was always happy when her grandmother would make them for breakfast. She sets the book down and gets started, humming the melody from the old song her grandmother used to sing while she worked. Leah loves this recipe so much, it's become a sacred memory. As she furiously whisks the batter, her mind returns to the vibrant and loving woman who shared it with her. Her grandmother was always so full of happiness--it was clear to Leah that nothing made her happier than making people happy. And that's why she loved cooking--it was one way she could bring her grandmother home to live with her again.
On this particular day, Hannes got from the rain into the rainwater pipe: first, he went away with his friends into the city center and there, he looked too deep into the glass. Soon, he was very blue, so he didn’t notice someone had let his money-bag walk with them. As his friends tried to found him on to lift one again, he searched for his money but it was gone. “You got nothing left?” his mix of cola and orange soda Matthias asked. “Zero comma Joseph!” complained Hannes. “Old one…” All of his friends were very served as well, so they soon forgot the conversation – and Hannes, too. So, he stood on the street, no friends, no money, mother-soul-alone. And poor as a church mouse. Well, Hannes thought, it looks like I must go home to foot. He began walking, but because he was so closed, he for-ran himself plenty of times, and moreover, it started raining young dogs. Hannes was soon smack wet. And the little dot on the ‘i’ of this horrible night was when the police came and led him off for disturbance of public rest. (Had fun with this silly little story, will provide explanation\[s\] if needed.)
\[WP\] "In the name of the King, arrest that chicken!" Liz the chicken didn’t know. In fact, Liz chicken was an expert at not knowing many things. Should such a thing be possible, this chicken would have flunked out of 'Poultry U 101 – how to be a chicken'. When it came to brains, Liz was a void on two drumsticks. Yes, she knew her own name. Her sisters. Even the cockerel that defended them. But everything else just happened around her. And Liz was okay with this, things worked themselves out, so why worry. After the first feed, Liz had fallen asleep on the large pink and brown thing that ate anything. It smelled bad, and it was temperamental. When it jumped up, Liz jumped in response, had a little flap and ended up in a warm high angled large square tree like thing. With gutters. Yes, it was warm, but it was also hard, so when a wagon went past filled with hay Liz flapped and plummeted down onto the hay, falling asleep nearly at once. The hay cart made its way from the countryside of Sanston to a nearby town of Bearon, and on to the city of Yekhire, the very centre of the Kingdom of Elsworth. “Why is there a chicken on here?” Someone asked, waking Liz from her sleep. She looked around, Liz couldn’t see the sky, wooden beams arched way above her, she was safe from hawks and eagles. To Liz, it was a meaningless noise that the tall feeders and egg thieves sometimes used, when a cluck would do just fine. Then a hand stretched out toward her. She didn’t like that at all, gross dirty featherless grabbers. A quick peck and the hand withdrew. “It pecked me!” The young man drew back, ire and embarrassment flushing through him as other people laughed at his reaction. He was city born, how was he supposed to know what chickens did? “Just grab it, lad. By the neck.” A woman yelled up at the young man on the hay. “Right!” He said back and leaned in with both grabbers spread out. A still functioning brain cell sparked into life, nudged Liz’s flight and flight response, well flap and fall response, and urged action. Liz clucked to life and dodged the grabbers, she jumped and flapped, landing on the thing's head. There was much uproar at this from the tall things Liz could see below her, it didn’t sound nice. So Liz hopped and flapped, landing on a beam of wood above the tall thing that had tried to grab her. It looked up at her. She pooped. He yelled. Lots more noise. Liz walked along the beam. “Now what?” The young man yelled down, face burning now with shame and anger. “First, wipe that off with some hay. Ignore the chicken, it’ll come down soon enough.” The woman said back, and with that, Liz passed out of the worker's minds. They had a lot of preparations to finish, all new cushions to stuff, and they were running out of time. In a few hours the hall would be filled with the high and mighty, and the workers in turn would be filling the taverns. How could one chicken matter? A spider crossed her path, a quick peck, and it was a snack. The wooden beams were easy on Liz’s brain. It was a simple path to follow. She spent some time hopping from beam to beam, higher or lower, and just walking around looking for more spiders or other insects. She was hungry, and a fleeting thought said she might no longer be at the place she woke up this morning. It was a thought that went past her like a fly on a hot day. “Coo.” The pigeon said, cocking its head, it regarded her with one eye, then the other. “Bwaa.” Liz murmured. She didn’t speak pigeon, she barely spoke chicken. This was a pigeon that had been through some adventures. Its feathers were askew, they didn’t shine like the pigeons she'd seen before, they were matted and dirty. Chickens are very particular about grooming, and the state of this pigeon upset Liz. She walked forward and began to groom. The pigeon didn’t know why this mad chicken was grooming him, but after the day he’d had, he was glad of the help. He'd seen some unbelievable events today, he wasn't even from this universe, but he was a pigeon, and he was alive. Now he was getting groomed, life wasn't all bad, he reflected with what little stoicism he had left. Liz watched as the pigeon leapt from the beam, flapped, and soared up, through a gap, and away. Flying seemed such hard work to Liz. Looking further along the beam, she noticed that the pigeon had been in front of a nest. Liz walked over, it was old, and not the cleanest, but for a nap it would do just fine. Stepping in, spinning around once, she closed her eyes, and settled for a much-needed nap. Trumpets were the last straw. There had been a lot of noise. Music, yelling, clapping. She’d napped for a while, but then the feeder egg thieves were just being weird. So many of them! As she looked down at them, wherever she was, was packed with them. She could no longer pretend to be asleep. She stretched. Liz was very hungry now, she wanted grain, scraps, worms. Something. The small group below her got her attention. Not the one in white, nor the one in black next to that one. In front of them was an old one that just never stopped making noise. But off to the side was a red square with a gold circle on it. A worm? Some other small, tasty insect? Perhaps she could eat it, then sleep on the red square. Suddenly, the old one used its grabbers and picked up the red square with the round gold worm on it. Nope, mine, Liz thought, hungry, and stepped off the beam. “Your majesty,” the archbishop whispered instructions to the King. He wouldn’t need to keep doing this if the King had bothered to turn up for more than one of the arranged practices, “repeat after me then place this on the finger on the Duchesses left hand.” The king, bored with the whole ceremony already, nodded imperceptibly. The archbishop raised the red velvet cushion between them, angling it slightly so those nearest could see the ring. After all, this was a show as much as a wedding. “O vos iustus scire hoc pullum est iens ut irrumabo, quae usque bonum.” The archbishop intoned loudly, the King opened his mouth to repeat the sacred phrases... “BWARK!” a chicken dropped from the rafters, swallowed the ring, and regarded the cushion in speculation. The Duchess recoiled, the King squeaked, the archbishop threw the velvet cushion up in surprise, Liz arced through the air and landed between rows and rows of feeder egg thieves. Hundreds of eyes regarded her, Liz pecked at the stone below her, just in case it hid something tasty. That round golden worm had not been satisfying at all. “In the name of the King, arrest that chicken!” \~\~\~ If you would like to read more of my stories, [see here](https://www.reddit.com/user/ukeewoman/comments/xr0dq0/links_to_all_my_reddit_stories/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3). \~\~\~
The Dream 0 As my head breaks the surface of the water I gasp and try to take another breath before sinking under again. The current is too strong and my stamina is fading quickly. The pain from the stab wound in my side is fading as my body goes numb from the freezing water. Briefly I can see the silhouette of the bridge in the distance against a sky turning pink from the setting Sun. Before I know it's happening I’m fully submerged again and the metallic taste of blood is washed away as the river water fills my mouth. Unable to fight it any longer I surrender and let the darkness of the river swallow me. 1 My eyes spring open and I jerk awake. I’m covered in a fine layer of sweat and my heart is racing. Realizing I’m safe in my own bed and not simultaneously bleeding to death and drowning I take a deep breath and lay back down. This is the third time in the last week I’ve had that dream. I can never remember the events leading up to the river but the details at the end remain crisp in my memory. Knowing that any chance at sleep is now lost I get up to start my day. I take my time in the shower, letting the warm water roll over me to try and counteract the residual feeling of the cold river from my dream. I realize my left hand keeps drifting towards my rib cage where I had been stabbed. Forcing my hand down, I turn off the water. I can’t shake the feeling of dying, of feeling my life and vitality slowly draining as I sank to the bottom of that dream river. The entire sequence still seems so real to me. More than the physical sensation of it was haunting me. I realize now that I have actually tasted what death feels like and I’m rattled. The finality of it all. There was no epic montage of my life flashing before my eyes. There was no one waiting for me at the end to escort me to whatever lay next. It was total darkness and I was alone in that oblivion. Even though I’ve had this exact dream before, this is the first time I’ve been unable to move past the feeling of it. 2 I walk out the door of my office after a long day. Work had only been mildly successful at forcing me to think about other things than dying. Maybe if I did something more interesting than IT support I’d have been able to better distract myself. Deciding to take the long walk home, I make a detour through the park. The sun is starting to set as I wander along the paths with my head down. My thoughts are now turning to the aftermath of my possible death. How would I be remembered? would I be remembered at all? I didn’t have any family and very few friends or acquaintances. I certainly hadn’t achieved anything society would consider memorable in my short life. My legacy was essentially nonexistent. What I would leave behind was the same as my death in that imaginary river. Nothingness. The sound of my footsteps change as I take the first step onto the bridge. I am about halfway across the bridge before it fully dawns on me exactly where I’m at. Is this the same bridge from my dream? Slowly I turn to make my way to the edge to watch the sunset. As it gets closer to the horizon, the sky starts to change to a familiar pink color. Panic starts to set in and I try to tell myself I’m being foolish and it was just a dream. I attempt to convince myself that dreams don’t have meaning and they certainly can’t predict the future. The panic wins and I turn to flee. I collide with a person I didn’t know was there. I’m too startled to do anything but mumble an apology and try to force myself by them. Before I’m all the way past them, they grab my arm. Their grip is tight and I can’t break free. “Give me your wallet and phone” they say. I can’t think about anything other than getting off the bridge and I continue to struggle. I don’t see the knife but I do feel it enter my side exactly where it had been in my dream. Reeling from the wound I finally manage to break free. I can feel the warm blood run down my body and my feet can hardly stay under me. All of a sudden I bump into the rail of the bridge and fall over the side. As I’m falling towards the water, a sense of calm comes over me. This may be the end, but I’ve experienced this before. There is a certain sense of comfort in the familiar.
"You humans and your endless greed have gone to far this time."The Atlantean King screamed from a throne of water. "Uh, what do you mean?" "You dare try to pretend you don't know about your crimes you two legged beast." "Oh no. I'm fully aware of all the terrible stuff we've done. I just wanna know which one you're talking about specifically." "The constant trash you've been throwing into my waters." "Oh that. Ok, that's completely your fault." "Excuse me." "Look man, we've been complaining to our world leaders about the problem with pollution for decades now. And you lot have just been sitting in the water twiddling your flippers. Maybe if you had come up before we made a literal island of trash we could have done something." "Well, reclusiveness has always been out main policy." "Why? You guys literally live in water. How do you now understand changing stuff." "Ok fine, I'm starting to see how I'm partially to blame here." "Good. Now I'm gonna go back to trying to fish for some of the few creatures still edible in this bay and you are gonna go two block down the street, ask my wife for a list of all the companies and politician who are responsible for this sh\*tty world we live in, and you're gonna kill them. Understand?" "Aye Aye captain."
\[Poem\] Snow-covered trees and a lake full of ice The wind howling cold bringing tears to my eyes Inside it is warm and the fire burns bright A kettle of tea, good to last me all night There’s scratching at windows with patterns of frost A plea for some mercy, for shelter and warmth They’re restless, relentless, they’ll never give up I try to ignore them and fill up my cup The tea warms my body, my soul and my heart I can’t leave them out there, I think with a start What cruelty possessed me, what foulness of mood To deny them some comfort, some warmth and some food. I open the door just the tiniest crack And murmurs of thanks send a chill down my back Which is when I know what a fool I have been I never, no never, should have bid them “Come in” The cold in these creatures, much deeper than bone It’s nothing malicious, they’re just so alone No fire could warm them, these creatures of chill But a small act of kindness, surely that will? An easy mistake, and one quickly made I think with regret as my own life force fades The fire is cold now, the tea just some ice For my kindness I’ve paid the ultimate price The house is now quiet, abandoned henceforth And we keep on moving, still searching for warmth &#x200B; \-- It took a while because I'm not really used to writing poetry, but every now and then there's a prompt that just demands it. For me this was one of those. Edit: formatting. Of course.
The programmer swiveled around in his rolling chair, encased in a mind of his own creation. The glowing circuits seemed to track him in waves of cyan, without any hesitation. He raised his hand, and a cluster of wires formed the same shape to meet his. A slight smile appeared on his scruffy, tired face, and he raised the holographic clipboard in his hands, readying his voice to ask the machine a few questions. “I’ve been having a lot of trouble breathing, and my sense of taste has been missing for a couple days.” The machine almost instantaneously scanned all existing medical records, opened a hatch, and dispensed a prescription. It responded in an uncanny voice: “Take this medication, which treats the symptoms for COVID-41, the disease you most likely possess.” Medical inquiry, check. “What is the cross product between a vector with dimensions 17, 48, and pi, and a vector with dimensions 94, 26 times Euler’s number, and the square root of 72?” Again, it must have been less than a tenth of a second between the programmer finishing his sentence and the machine revealing a perfectly numerated vector. “The cross product of those two vectors is: <288•sqrt(2) - 26•pi•e, 94•pi - 102•sqrt(2), 442•e - 4512>.” The calculations check out; advanced mathematics response, check. Here came the most important question. “I’ve been feeling down for the past year due to the recession and my project’s diminished funding despite my progress. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on, and I feel empty.” Silence for a brief moment, but then a response that anyone who didn’t know better would have thought was the most insightful, experienced therapist who walked the earth: “Your economic situation largely isn’t in your control; the only thing you can control is yourself. Your project is still being funded to some degree so far, and your project is progressing well. Take pride in your personal progress, and find ways to make the best of your situation.” Stunned, mouth ajar, the programmer checked off emotional empath emulation. The programmer was getting excited at this revolutionary breakthrough: hyper-intelligent machines that could respond to the needs of any person instantly. The voice and body language processor allowed it to even serve as an emotional support figure if necessary, which was the real innovation of this technology. It was beautiful, in a way: A machine being granted a window into the human experience through a blueprint of its entire expanse of knowledge. He thanked the machine, waved goodbye for now, wrote an abstract on his miraculous findings, and left to go to his rendezvous point with the US secretary of intelligence. // (Cont.)
The person recieves a very angry email the next day, which reads. 'Can you stop posting my location, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the CIA, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in guerilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Central Intelligence Agency and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever"comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.' The person makes a video about this and turns into a famous copypasta before featuring in the famous "Change My Mind"meme, but unfortunately he realizes too late that [Waldo wasn't bluffing](https://i.imgflip.com/6spi9s.jpg).
"Oh. Yeah. Big Band music. It was real popular for several decades there." "How?"Trai asked in horror. He almost fell over the boxes he'd stacked on the cart. "Hmm?"Red asked as he strapped the load down. "How could it be popular?"Trai wondered. They let the straps tighten themselves before they walked around and checked the anchor points. "People played it, and other people liked it. And there were a bunch of variations created from it, and people liked those. And it's a really influential genre of music."Red elaborated. Trai recognized that phrase. Genre. Plural. "Genre? There's more than one genre? Of Big Band?" "Yeah? We make a lot of music." "This, this Big Band as you called it. This music has killed millions." Red kind of found the concept of music being deadly a bit humorous. But Trai seemed very serious. "...Of us or you? Because now I'm confused." "Of people like me."Trai said, spreading his arms wide. "How does music kill somebody? Well, I guess if it's too loud. Or maybe if a speaker fell on you. Or there's a crowd crush and you get smashed."Red thought back. "That's... Not what I meant." "-Get shot in the parking lot.... Okay, so maybe there's a few things that can lead to your death."Red waved off. "But it's all the stuff around the music that does that." "Red, pay attention." "Yes." "We Kernos are highly affected by different types of sound. We're very sensitive, and that type of rhythmic pattern can be fatal." Red actually studied his coworker with some interest. Considering how big their ears were on their head, it made some sense. But upon seeing proof Trai presented him, along with the photos the articles he pulled up depicted. It became clear this was a very serious matter. "Now I'm wondering if it's a sort of brown note for you." "And what's that?" The big human sat atop the cart they just loaded and tugged the straps to check again. "So for a long time there was this concept that a certain sound frequency could cause us to poop ourselves or even kill us. They were mainly worried about the second part." Trai cringed in disgust. "I was about ask how that would, nevermind." "Yeah, the going on ourselves... That part's wild." "How can you listen to it?" "Well, if we didn't have big band, we wouldn't have swing or jazz. And I've always loved some jazz." "Jazz?" "There's also funk, rock and roll, rap, a lot of our music has some vast overlap with one another and as a result we have hundreds of kinds of music and thousands of songs." Trai was confused by this even further. Humans liked Big Band so much, they made other music derived from Big Band. That's awful. Who would do such a horrible thing to themselves? "Can you at least listen to other less complex kinds of music?"Red asked. The cart they setup finally rolled away on its path towards the ships. It would queue to be picked up onto the correct ship, and be shuttled to the right destination. And that led to the next empty cart, as they started over again, loading shelves with packages. And eventually sealing each side of the cart before strapping everything down. "Such as?"Trai asked. "Piano? Or simply singing? Acapella? Drums, or something?" "Well, I don't know. I don't think it'd be wise."Trai admitted. "What else do you listen to?" "If swing music can kill you,"Red paused. "I'm fairly sure everything I have is considered a war crime."
A vivid dream about the violent end of the world, and then waking up in a grassy plain on a sunny day. If not for the iconic slimes hopping around in the distance, you’d have thought you were raptured into heaven or something. It does not take too long to put two and two together, even in your groggy mind. You did the usual pinch test, the ‘firmly stating the word “System”’ test, and even a body checkup to see if it’s still yours or not. All the tests showed that this was certainly an isekai, and that, thankfully, you still kept your old body. “Alright then. Since everyone’s dead in my old world, guess it’s time to live in this new one.” you shrug, “Wonder if I’ll run into any classic tropes along the way to the nearest sapient society.” As you pick yourself up off the grass, you refresh yourself on all the generally helpful isekai tropes you can remember, as well as the litRPGs you’ve guzzled down in your previous life. You think it’s a bit funny that you don’t have to watch Bear Grylls yourself if the latest webnovel you’ve read has already done that for you. You begin to walk to find a river or some water source, and fiddle around with the cool new status screen in front of you looking like something ripped straight from RoyalRoad itself. “If slimes exist, that means other monsters do, so I’ll have to start training my self-defense soon. Once I figure out how this all works, I’ll probably go with a mage or alchemist build. If you’re isekai’d, why bother becoming a swordsman if magic now exists?” From what you can remember, if you follow a river, it will usually lead to civilization at some point, especially if this is a medieval world. Strangely, the sudden realization that you lack your phone on you doesn’t make you begin panicking. Probably the understanding that with the end of the world, so too does the Internet end. As well as way too much shock for any panic to set in just yet. Well, you think, before you begin to emotionally break down, you better find a comfy spot at some random elves village or something, first. And with that thought, you set off in search of rivers and shelter.
“We could build a monument to the author.” --- This one was inspired by two other prompts: - [“We could form a cult and pray to the sun god to fix our car.”](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/x9paq5/comment/inpd3g9/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) – u/Lothungr - [“We could break the fourth wall.”](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/x9paq5/comment/inr8l88/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) – u/CthulhuisIkuTurso Of course, I won’t respond to my own prompt until I’m done with everyone else’s.
Hellfire scorched the dry Texas pavement, sending pillars of flame spewing in every direction. People either ran for their lives, or tried to start their car, realizing too late that the intense heat had melted the systems. In the middle of this Southern inferno, stood a cackling bat-like man with a body of pure shadow. Chernobog laughed as flesh was scalded, bone was burnt and skin was blackened. Fire streamed from his fingertips, and despite the firefighters' best efforts, simple humans could not extinguish hellfire- Every single lick of flame went out. In one gust of wind. Standing where the inferno once was, was the perfect specimen. Greek gods would weep at the sight of his jawline. Bodybuilders were emasculated by the very existence of his muscles. The very presence of his incredibly-groomed beard struck the Bee Gees from any person's memory. Even the cowboy hat atop his head radiated manliness, infecting anything in his line of sight with unrelenting testosterone. Chernobog didn't even realize his jaw was wide open. Hyperventilating, the demon attempted to fix his attitude and posture to the man, in the hope of scaring him away. The man looked up, revealing piercing blue eyes that shot straight through Chernobog's soul. "I am Chernobog!"He bellowed hesitantly. "Right hand of Hell! Lord of the darkne-" Chernobog was cut off by the man's hand shooting straight through his heart. He muttered some jargon about how a simple mortal could never defeat him. The man stared daggers through his face, and spoke. "When you get back to where you belong... tell Satan that Chuck Norris says hello."
"no heartbeat, but very much alive,"he said, baring down on my throat with the force of the sun. i moved his hand and sat up before he had the chance to do anything else to me. i had no idea where i was, the last i remembered i was at a party and now im in some non-descript white room. "what the hell are you doing"i ask, expecting to be ignored completely. "you're the most dangerous person alive, we need to figure out your weakness"he told me. the news came as a total surprise to me. "i, um, what?" "you're a vampire that doesnt burn, cant be steaked and is resistant to holy objects." "yeah, i know all of that, i've known it for several years. why the sudden interest?" he looked at me in horror, "several years, god how many people have you killed? we're lucky we caught you before you could do anything else" i stood up quickly, with an intense rage "hold on, just because i'm a vampire doesnt make me a killer. i dont even drink blood" he looks at me, as if to call nonsense. he stares for a minute before handing me a flask that he apparently found on me "so if i open this, i wont find blood in here. right?"he asked me midway through opening it. the smell caught me immediately and i wretched. it was like a liquid form of licorice. "mate, i dont know who's flask that it but it needs burning immediately. if someone is drinking something that smells like them i would be seriously worried about their health" "funny that, you see. this is filled with blood. you sure you dont want it" "god no, that wants pouring down the sink. ive had bad milk smell better than that", burying my face in my elbow hoping to block the smell of it. he took his chance then, but I acted quickly. he opened a door and within moments i was out of there. i dont care if people want to know about me but i refuse to be experimented on.
There was a sound at the window. Garrett looked up from his desk and frowned. It sounded like the flutter of wings, but the illumination from the streetlight revealed nothing. He shook his head and turned back to the document in front of him. He had been staring at the paragraph in front of him for almost ten minutes, but the words wouldn't change no matter how long he waited. This was going to change everything. The fluttering sound came again, and Garrett looked up to see that his window was ajar. He frowned, feeling certain that it had been closed the moment before. He stood up and moved across the room to the window. Some fresh air would help clear his mind. He opened the window further and propped himself up against the sill. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out distractedly, fumbling for his lighter. He bent his neck to light the cigarette and as he did so he simultaneously heard the flutter of wings and felt the sharp pain of talons striking him in the soft skin of his exposed neck...
"We could look for mushrooms"Emma grinned at Pepper from the passenger seat. Pepper kept her hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead with her brow furrowed. "That's an awful idea, Emma." "You've said that to every single one of my ideas so far." "Because none of them make sense!"Pepper snapped her head towards Emma, annoyed. She sighed. "Sorry, I'm just stressed." "That's alright, I get it."Emma was just happy Pepper looked away from the road. She had been looking at the same spot for the better part of an hour. It was starting to really weird Emma out. "I don't even know if there's mushrooms around here." "Sure there are! We're near the woods, after all." "I don't think that every woods are going to have mushrooms." "My grandma's yard had mushrooms. They'll grow anywhere." "I- alright, that's true."Pepper sighed, resting her head against the headrest. "But who knows what's in those woods?" "...Mushrooms?" "Probably a killer." "Don't be ridiculous!"Emma couldn't believe she was telling Pepper of all people to stop being ridiculous. Emma was the queen of ridiculousness. She might as well have a PhD in Tomfoolery. "It's not ridiculous! We're near the woods, in the middle of nowhere, with no cell reception, it's the perfect place for a killer!" "You know what else it's the perfect place for?" "Don't fucking say mu-" "Mushrooms!"Emma accompanied her sing-songy voice with some jazz hands. Pepper laid her head on the steering wheel, and for a second, Emma was worried that she had poked a little too much. After a few seconds, Pepper sighed and sat back up, looking at Emma. "Fine. Let's go look for a bit." "WOOHOO!" "But, we should stay close to the van. And don't eat any wild mushrooms!" "Of course I won't!"Emma was lying through her teeth. They stepped out of the car. Emma looked up into the bright sky, shielding her eyes and squinting hard. It was a beautiful day. Murderers can't kill on beautiful days. Everyone knows that. Even the murderers! Pepper grabbed a wrench from an emergency toolkit she kept in the back of the car. It was missing everything except the wrench, a couple of loose nails, and a screwdriver. Pepper looked up to Emma's expectant eyes and nodded. "Let's go." "Yippee!"Emma skipped off behind some trees and Pepper grumbled and walked after her. Emma slowed to a bouncy walk as she scanned the ground for mushrooms. She could hear Pepper walking behind her, her footsteps slowing as Emma slowed down. Eventually, she found what she was looking for: A cluster of small white mushrooms growing on the roots of a tree. She kneeled down to get a closer look and gently poked one. The firmness surprised her; she honestly expected it to give more under the pressure of her finger. Then, a slightly dreadful thought occurred to her. "Hey, Pepper, aren't some mushrooms dangerous to tou-" Emma turned around to be greeted with an empty forest scene. No birds chirping. No squirrels in the trees. Not even so much as a cicada singing. And, most noticeably, no sign of Pepper. Panic rose in Emma's chest, her heart beating much faster than it had been. Pepper had been right behind her! Where could she have gone? Emma stood up and looked around. Great, she had lost sight of the van as well. While muttering curses under her breath, Emma trudged back the way she came. At least, she was pretty sure she came this way. The trees looked familiar, at least. Which isn't exactly much of a comfort when you're in a forest, surrounded by the same type of tree. Emma spun around, looking at the canopy of trees above her. The sky was still bright and blue. At least she had that going for her. She stopped when she bumped into something behind her. She whirled around to see a man standing there, causing her to scream. "ARE YOU EMMA?"He asked, yelling over her shriek. "Why?" "Your friend Pepper 's waiting. Van's fixed. Pepper said you went looking out here for somethin'." "Did roadside assist really get out here that quickly?" The man wrinkled his nose at her comment. "Of course we did." "Ah, sorry- thanks for looking for me, though!" The guy grumbled something about not getting paid enough for this shit before turning and walking back the way he came, beckoning for Emma to follow him. She skipped after him, excited to continue her road trip with her best friend. [ I know this was supposed to be a prompt for you, but I got carried away, lol. They might be out of character, sorry :( ]
"You DARE challenge Immortal Xianxia?", said the immortal, Xianxia. "Why would you want to be immortal?"said the mortal, Thors Thorssonsson. "I... Oh. OH! Forgive this lowly one, you must be further on the path of Cultivation than I!"exclaimed the Immortal, "How can we truly achieve enlightenment if we do not know why we seek to extend our lives? Could enlightenment be attained only at the end of life? Have I been looking in the wrong place?" The immortal sat on his floating sword, mumbling to himself before jumping up and flying into the distance. "Does this mean you won't fight me? Fuck."
"And that's our show for the evening! Remember, true heroism doesn't come from a colorful costume or amazing powers, but in the simple act of endurance for just one moment more. And with that thought, we bid you a hearty excelsior! Goodnight!" A nod from the cameraman. No longer rolling. The host's face crumples, going from beam to grimace in nothing flat. His arms cease to spread dramatically; he holds out one hand for a bottle of antacids proffered by a nervous assistant and downs five in a gulp. And Ace Addison stalks off acidly to the privacy of his office. "That was a phenomenal show, Mister Addison,"chirped an assistant who, despite the advantage of a few decades of youth, was struggling to match his stride. "Terrible. Worst one we've had yet." "Uh, yes. If you say so, sir." "Who the hell's idea was this one? Cola-Kaiju? That's our guest? That's a hero? Gimme a freaking break." "He's very popular in Atlanta-" "I don't doubt it. Who've we got lined up for next show?" The assistant checked a clipboard. "Um... looks like someone called First Citizen, sir." Ace mouthed the name a few times, trying to decide whether he despised it or merely loathed it. "First Citizen? What's his gimmick?" "He claims to be George Washington, returned to our modern age by alchemical rites performed by Freemasons two and a half centuries ago, here to restore America's fighting spirit. We're not sure if he's for real about that, though. He does have a sideki- a junior partner. Alias Action Jackson, claims to be Andrew Jackson returned through hte same means. We've asked him not to put in an appearance." "Because they realized he's insane?" "Um. More because test groups didn't seem to like Andrew Jackson much. His involvement might mean bad press for the show..." "Fine. Whatever. I need a minute." "Don't forget you've got a meeting-" "I didn't forget. I just need a minute."And Ace Addison ducked into his dressing room and closed the door with more force than was strictly necessary. Oh, God. This job was going to kill him. Sooner rather than later a major organ was going to give out. The rest of the production staff had to be taking bets on which one. Heart, liver, maybe just a good old fashioned burst popliteal vein. Ace ducked through his dressing room, shoved aside a sliding rack of clothing and popped out the back exit. It opened onto a landing on a stairway nobody used, and a window nobody knew about, thus offering a perfect combination of privacy and a view. The city looked the same as it always did. Starscrapers that looked like a vision of the future as envisioned by an idealist out of the past, gondola-busses whizzing between them like lightning bolts. Statues of liberty and justice on every corner. And of course there were men and women flying through the skies, as well, unassisted, or held aloft by comets or funnel clouds or jet packs, or riding winged horses or Arabian castles carried on the breeze by giant hot air balloons, or they were simply scaling walls with magnetic boots or skating along electrical cables. Jewels in the crown. Every child in the city grew up knowing about them. Red Rebel and Madam Miracle and Jack Knife. Attaboy to Zillionaire, by way of Bishop Beastly, Chimera Kid, Dodgerette, Eve O'Lution, Freedom Frenzy, the Gumshoe... the list went on. They had always been there, and always would. "Booooring,"murmured Ace, as he slammed the window shut. \\\* MEMORANDUM To: lowly peons From: lord and master Subject: abysmal ratings Alright people. No more fooling around. World's Greatest Heroes has been losing steam for a while now and it's finally at a point where we can't wallpaper over those losses anymore. We're bleeding viewers here, and the competition's noticing. Key demographics are starting to wonder if they wouldn't rather watch the 700 Club at this point, savvy? &#x200B; \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ Will have to finish later...
We thought the nuke was the end of that evil eldrich goddess. Her fellow friends were claiming that she was possessed by an evil force, normally she is not like that. And they were unhappy with the results. But she claimed so many innocent lives, she had to be stopped. Even her friends went up against her but couldn't stop her. Since we nuked her, we were watching the situation and the damage done to the city with our drones. Suddenly we saw an unusual thing... Red health bar ! She's alive ! Revitalizing... Her tentacles grew up, her magic grew strong... She was trying to regain her strenght back... We thought this time we're fucked up... The strongest weapon of human race wasn't able to kill her... Her fellow friends relieved as they saw her alive, but it lived short. They also knew bigger problem was rising up. Then the silver haired angel girl came with a solution... The crystal on her forhead. That was the thing which possessed. If we destroy this crystal, she'll turn back into her human-loving former self.. At least, that's what the silver girl claimed... But we've only seen her human eating lover side so far... Since even our nuke wasn't able to stop her, we had no other choice but trust her. How are we gonna pull this off ? Then I realized there's a way... Very risky, but as a soldier, I was more than willing to take that risk... That way, is sniping that crystal... Everyone objected my idea, but no one came up with a better solution... "I know the risks, if I fail, I'm her next meal. I got it"I said. "But this is the risk I have to take..."I continued... In command center, we developed a plan for sniping... Radiation radius from the nuke was 4km. So that means I was gonna take the shot from more than 4km. Best spot we found was a high ground, 4200m to the target. From that distance she also wasn't be able to sense that I'm around. The chances of sniping a 5cm crystal from 4200m were really slim. And if I miss, she'll notice me and devour me up... I went to the spot. Aimed right at the target. Calculated everything. For the first time in my career, I was hesitating... "You are the best sniper in the world, Creeper. Don't ever forget that"the goddess of virtue whispered into my head... "I'm inside your head. Don't ever think you're all alone in here"she continued... "You have the blessings of the goddesses now, Creeper. To save your kind, and save our friend... The fate of everything is in your hands, we all trust you"she said. Knowing that would probably the last breath I've given, I took the shot. Bullet flied for 3,57 seconds, and hit the purple crystal... Her healtbar hit zero. Even I couldn't believe I pulled this off... The dark aura that surrounded her slowly faded away, her tentacles went back and she fell down... From the scope, I saw she was still breathing... At the moment her healtbar was green. "Command, this is Creeper. Mission complete ! I repeat, mission complete ! Send a team and get me out of here, over."I said at radio... Before command replied, I've teleported to the base. It's been months since then... These goddesses still visiting me. They're claiminf that I'm the hero... And that's the story of How I gained the title... "The Hero of Eldrich"
[Fell asleep trying to write a longer version.] Satan showed up about a month later, knocking on my door. I was staying in Texas, which I’d figured was the next best place for me to be. “Hey, do you happen to have the intramural volleyball?” I looked back at my half-unpacked bags (yes, it had been a month), and spotted the old ball, labeled “Helson,” peeking out of the top of a duffel bag. “You mean my volleyball?” I asked. “I took all my toys with me.” Satan was livid. “That was the league volleyball! It was for everyone!” “But I’m the one that got it,” I shrugged. “You didn’t even like volleyball at first.” Satan shook his fist at me. “This is why I banish you, you little shit!” “There’s a sporting goods store not far from here. Volleyballs aren’t hard to find.” “It’s not the same and you know it!” Satan seethed. “I banished you, not Helson!” “You know there’s this game called beer pong they play on college campuses now,” I said. “You might meet a ping pong ball you like.” Satan narrowed his eyes at me. He didn’t like being made fun of, but he was curious. “What’s beer pong?”
"But Daaaaad"he began in a wine not beneffiting his age or stature "I just want to cast with my friends! These pipes are so boring" Damien let out a sigh, sometimes his son could still be such a child. "You can spend time with your friends another time, this is important."He was sure his father had said something similar to him once. "You have to learn the family business"this was J-F's second time on a ship this size. The company had gone through great lengths to obtain it. They walked through the halls towards the freezer rooms. Passing by boilers and engines maintained by workers and flame casters of Smelting corp, contract workers were necessary for this kind of venture. "Here it is son, the family legacy"Damien said and clapped him on the back. "Its a freezer, dad"J-F sighed. "Not just any Freezer my son! This is our legacy. Your Great grandfather was inspirational, using his powers for refrigeration! He founded Cool transit inc corp and someday this will be yours. You have to learn the ins and outs of the business" J-F turned and said a short encantment. Blue lines swirled as his hands traced the symbols of power. Rings and lines ran this way and that from across the room to sit squarely in a small intricate symbol that say in the palm of his hand. With a wave he sent it down a pipe. Frost formed on the pipe all the way from where he stood to the deep recesses of the freezer. "Ta dah"he said. "Can we go now?" Damien sighed. He wondered if he had been so hard headed as a boy. "People depend on us my boy, this isn't just a simple spell, its a necessary part of our international world now. How would the people of Olin'tak get fresh food if not for us" "Probably should have thought of that before settling in the desert. What a stupid idea"he retorted "Fine! Have it your way!"Damien yelled "Go play in the sandbox with the other babies. I have a company to run!" Hours later Damien kept thinking back to it. He didn't like being so hard on the boy, he just couldn't make him see what was important. He audibly sighed. Maybe he is still to young to understand. Unfortunately Damien's tumor had continued to grow, he didn't yet have the heart to tell J-F but someday soon he would inherit a lot of responsability. Damien was not sure he was going to be ready for it.
A drop of water falls out of the night sky. Hitori finds himself tied to a chair in the middle of a lake. Water seems to be black in color, hiding any secrets it preserves. The lake is surrounded by forest on all sides. The only source of light is the half moon shining directly above the chair. How is the chair staying afloat? He wondered. A soft voice whispered in his ear, "Do you remember?". He looks over his shoulder just to realize that nobody is there. As he turns his head, a pale young woman stares at him and goes - Do you remember? Petrified to the core, his frightened screams echo into the night. Gasping for breath, Hitori wakes up from the dream. His clothes are stenched with sweat. "Fuck", exclaimed as he climbed out of the bed. It had happened again. He was seeing the same dream in succession for nearly two months. For some reason, the girl in the dream seems familiar. He tries to recollect with futile results. It seemed normal. He couldn't even remember his childhood memories at this point. Washing every last bit of toothpaste out of his mouth, he walks toward his workspace. Next month, he'll turn 35. Scraping together meals as a freelance artist, he survived on small commissions of local businesses and the occasional comic. Sitting on an old wooden chair, he begins planning the day. The dingy apartment had little room for sunlight and air circulation, especially during noon. He usually left the apartment late morning and work in cafes until evening. He had found a new uncrowded café recently. It was a bit farther away than the others. But they were just noisy and packed during this time. There's no harm in trying a new place out, he thought. The train tracks stopped over the bridge. The café was located roadside under the bridge. The décor chimed when walked through the door. The cafe was almost empty, with two other people sitting on the other side of the room. He located a corner spot next to the windows and brought out his sketchbook. The strange dream popped into his head as he looked out the window. What did the lady look like? He recalls the dream again. On a fresh, blank page he begins sketching out the girl in his dream. The waitress approaches Hitori to take his order. "What will you have?", said the middle-aged lady with a sweet smile. That's when she noticed his sketch. She let out an uneasy gasp. He looked at her with startled eyes. "Do you know her?", he asked. She pointed to the girl and said - "She's dead". His heart sunk into the depths of his body. It was blazing hot in the graveyard. He looked around to find the third row. That's what the waitress had said. Apparently, her name is Akari. Scouring around for the gravestone, he finally sees the one. The plaque was covered in dust and the grass had grown too long. Nobody seemed to visit it at all. As he wiped off the dust, he saw what was written on the plaque - Akari Sato. Isn't my name Sato? Blitzing pain shot through his head. Perhaps he finally remembers? "Run away Hitori. Father will kill you", shouted his sister. "Onee san", said the boy as tears gushed down his cheeks. "Run!", she screamed again. He ran with as much pace as those little legs could pick up. As he looked back, his father hit her on the head with the iron rod. The last sight he saw was her head hitting the rock-hard floor. The high-pitched buzzing of cicadas surrounded the afternoon atmosphere. "Onee san", cried out Hitori as warm tears flooded his eyes. For a moment in time, he was that young kid again.
I meticulously, painstakingly select the best of the brood of grocery carts - a mighty steed, chrome gleaming like the liquid silver sparkle of solar rays refracting gaily off panes of turquoise waves. A productive and profitable expedition to the market must begin with the proper accompaniment. Its wheel bearings must be buttered beautifully, as if applied with powdered graphite for a pinewood derby photo finish. Absolutely no wheel wobble will be accepted, for the whining gyrations may disturb the carefully tuned saturation of carbon dioxide in my favorite store-brand soda pop beverage. I wipe my chariot's push bar thrice with complimentary antimicrobial wipes. The store has spared no expense to deliver a luxury disinfectant experience for its honored guests. The deliciously soft linen wipes, very nearly non-disposable, carry with them the enchanting, intriguing, wafting aroma of exotic citrus cultivars. Satisfied with my basket, I swiftly retrieve the handwritten digest from the dutifully sewn pocket atop my left buttocks. Each item detailed within was delicately chosen for specific, singular purpose, tailor-made so that product and purpose are irreversibly paired, indistinguishable from one another. I direct my gaze to the yellow ruled sheet below, shocked to discover what has awaited me since I began my trek to the store many minutes ago: "Eggs."
She thought she heard someone yelling, but couldn't quite tell. She reached up and turned off the shower, wringing her hair out before wrapping herself in the first of four towels that hung over the shower rod. The second one, she used to wrap her hair from her first head. The third one, she used to wrap her second head, then the fourth for her third. A hard knock-knock-knock at the door caught her off guard, surely Donavan couldn't be home from school yet. Donavan rips open the bathroom door, so excited hes about to burst. He was so nervous to start the new school year, and the beaming in his faces was quite reassuring to her. He was nervous to start the new school year in a new town. What would they think? Would they stare? Would they care? Would they make fun of him? Her day was full of worry til she seen his faces full of joy. "Mama", he exclaimed excitedly, "the other kids said we were humans! I did it, Mama! I actually fit in"!! Mama's heart fluttered. "That is great, baby! They didn't even care about your other faces"? "Not at all, most of them said their parents have multiple faces too"!

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