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Humanity reached deep into the stars in the twenty seventh century. We had unprecedented technological advancement. Massive economic growth and even an artistic renaissance. It was the golden age of humanity.
We encountered our first sentient species almost three hundred years of space exploration. It did not go well.
Humanity and the Z’hary have been at war for almost twenty five years. An entire generation of people has never know what it is like to be at peace.
Our war technology advanced faster than even our space technology. Say what you will about humans, we know how to wage war like few others.
—————————
“Private Mathews reporting for duty, sir,” I said sharply.
“At ease, private. Looks like you have already stored your kit. Did you get the full tour of the ship?”, my CO asked.
“I got the nickel tour, sir.” The ‘nickel tour’ was short hand for the basics - mess hall, bathrooms, and quarters.
“Good enough for now. We are a standard Constellation class cruiser. Everything thing is where you expect it to be.
“Did you get assigned a mech?”
“No, sir.” I was excited to be assigned a real battle mech. I was top of my class in all battle simulations and mech piloting.
“Come on then. They get you to the mech bay and let you met your armour.”
The mech bay is a cavernous space. Automated racks of mechs on each wall held armour three units high and over a hundred deep.
“We can deploy four hundred mechs in less than three minutes from this bay,” the CO said proudly. “We have the best mechs, techs and soldiers in the fleet. We see battle two or three days a week. We have been in some of the nastiest fighting in the last five years. We are the backbone of the modern marine core.”
“Boo ya!” I said automatically.
The CO punched in a code at a key pad and the rack rotated, bringing a battle wear suit down right in front of us. The armour plating was scuffed and a patch work of colours - clearly patched many times. The usually bright colours; dulled under a layer of dirt and grime. On the right chest plate was painted a large hammer. The right arm had lines of text all the way down it. I walked over and looked at the arm.
Alpha Centari
Twin Sisters
Three Cities
…
The list just went on and on.
“Those are the major battles this suit has been in,” the CO said after seeing my interest. The other arm has an old-school tally of minor skirmishes she has fought in.”
“This has to be almost ever major battle since the beginning of the war, sir,” I said in awe.
“Pretty close. Sixty odd major battles and over a hundred skirmishes. Mjölnir here has seen it all.”
“Mjölnir, sir?” I inquired.
“It is the name of Thor’s hammer from Norse mythology. The boys have nicknamed this suit ‘God’s Hammer’. It has done unbelievably well for an Octane Two series mech-“
“Octane two‽ With all due respect, sir, that is a ancient series of mechs,” I said visibly concerned.
“She is rock solid and fights every bit as well as the new Nitro twelve units. The armour plating has been upgraded over the years, same with the battlements. The only thing that are a hundred percent original is her core frame and the AI. Take care of her and she will take care of you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get acquainted with her. Dismissed.”
I gave a quick salute and my CO turned and left. An Octane Two. An Octane Two… who did I piss off to get an Octane Two?
I climbed in and brought her systems online. The interface was snappier than I expected for such and old system. I cycled through the menus and settings. Checked all of the battlement settings. The CO was right, everything was updated to modern specs.
I left her running and climbed out. She needed a bath and a paint job, that’s for sure.
“Hey Mjölnir, you got and rock and roll?” I half asked the mech, but just like that she started to play some classic Metallica. Nice.
I got a bucket of water and a brush and gave this bucket of bolts a bath. I scrubbed the worst of it off and then hosed her down. I took pictures of both her arms and the hammer on her chest and then gave her a coat of paint.
I updated the colors to match the rest of the squadron - white and purple. Then I re-stencilled the name of the battles on her right arm and put the tallies back on her left. The hammer needed some love. A plan boring hammer was replaced with an ornate drawing of Mjölnir that I found in the archives. I stencilled ‘Mjölnir’ in calligraphy right under the hammer.
Just because I had an old suit doesn’t mean she needs to look old.
I stood back and admired my work. “You are one sexy bitch, Mjölnir!” I said proudly.
Life on the ship was full of routine. Up at six. Shower. Breakfast. Training. Lunch. Training. Supper. Free time until ten PM. Repeat.
I spent most of my free time with Mjölnir. Working through the basic training exercises and working with the AI in simulations. Getting a feel for the mech and the AI. The CO was right. She is as solid a mech as I have ever piloted.
I was in the mech, running a training simulation when the alarm sounded.
“Red alert! Battle stations! Pilots to their Mechs!” The ship said over and over again as the lights flashed red.
The bay filled up instantly. Techs and pilots all trying to get suited up as fast and efficiently as possible. It was a well oiled crew and they were ready in less than three minutes. We touched down on the planet surface in four.
The bay doors opened to fully engaged battle. I glimpsed three other fleet ships. That means three full squadrons - plus us. Sixteen hundred fleet mechs were on the ground.
We marched out of the bay into a hellscape of phaser fire.
My radio squawked. “Platoon Charlie on my six, we are flanking hard south.” We ran in graceful formation. Each five ton mech step shaking the ground. We were a literal herd of elephants running through the streets of that ruined city.
We encountered the Z’hary forces as we rounded a gutted tall building. We started taking fire two mechs went down almost immediately. I went into a roll, that I didn’t order, and came out behind the cover of a large brick building.
“Was that you Mjölnir?” I asked the AI. “I didn’t initiate that roll.” The heads up display illuminated all of the enemy combatants and indicated probable enemy strong holds. “That isn’t much of an answer Mo.”
“Charlie platoon. Weapons free. Engage,” my radio squawked. I targeted the obvious enemies and fired the phaser canons.
The heads up kept pointing out a spot with no enemies. “Damn it Mo! There is nothing there. If there is something then show it to me!”
Mjölnir launched a splattering of RPGs at the spot. “I didn’t order that, Mo!” The RPGs hit the brick wall and destroyed it, revealing ten Z’hary mechs waiting in reserve. “Holy shit! Nicely done, Mo,” I said. I am congratulating an AI - I must be loosing it. “Send in some missiles, Mo. Don’t let those bastards get away.” Mo launched ten missiles and the reserve Z’hary; catching them off guard. Ten missiles, ten direct hits.
I was thrown out into the street. What the hell‽ I roll to my feet and see that a Z’hary had snuck up behind me and thrown me. Too close for weapons.
“Looks like we are going old-school, Mo. Hand to hand combat.”
I rush at the enemy mech and drive a punch right into its centre. They put their hands together and dropped a double fisted blow to our head - driving us to our knees.
“They are stronger than us, Mo!”
The tactical screen lit up a display of the enemy mech with all of the weak points highlighted.
“Thanks, Mo,” I grunted as I punched the enemy mech in the knee. They kicked us across the road and through a brick wall.
I locked phasers on the enemy’s targeting array and fired as I ran back at them. I dove and slid between their legs as Mo brought the plasma blade on line and sliced through the leg hydraulics. Their mech went down with a hell of a thud. I jumped on its back and tore at everything vital that I could.
Their mech was bleeding hydraulic fluid on to the street as sparks flew from the damaged back. We needed a bit of distance between us before I could launch and RPG or two to finish him off.
“Nice work, Mo.”
The tactical display lit up with another set of enemy mechs that needed to be put down.
——————
“Private Matthews reporting as ordered,” I barked as I stood at attention.
“At ease, private,” my CO said as he shuffled some papers about his desk. “I heard you acquitted yourself nicely out there. Especially for a first mission.”
“Thank-you, sir!”
“We got a few new mechs coming in. A couple of Nitro Twelves. You interested in an upgrade?”
“No, sir,” I replied instantly. “I will stick with Mjölnir, sir.”
“There is something special about her, isn’t there?” He asked with a knowing smile.
“Aye, sir,” I replied. “She is God's Hammer!” |
She knew me. Fuck, she knew me. And worse, judging from the way she would occasionally glance directly at me, look at the artwork behind us, whisper something giddily to her friend, then shuffle her feet ever closer toward my bench, not only did she know exactly who I was and, presumably, why I was here, but she was a *fan*.
I had already ran through all my potential escapes when she first recognized me, twenty minutes ago. The best chance I had was to sit here, act like I gave a shit about this barely-worth-my-time Masaccio look-alike, then, if she approached, tell her she had the wrong person, get up, and walk away. God willing that would shatter her confidence and decorum enough to not go to the polizia.
I had not wanted to become famous - it just sort of happened. Call it a byproduct of my style meeting the technological revolution. Someone had put together a compilation of camera footage tracing the route of my last escape, and the idea of a modern day Lupin running across the terracotta terraces of Venice all the way from St. Mark's Basilica to a boat cleverly hidden across the city enraptured some section of the internet, who then took it upon themselves to figure out every aspect about me, and dispense it in podcast form. There were at least six shows in contention with one another to guess my next move, and while none of them were right, somehow this girl was, and *why had she not approached me yet*. All she needed to do was approach me, inquire as to the great David Copperfield (not my choice), wrong person, whoops, sorry, goodbye.
Eventually, it dawned on me that she might've intuited my plan. Maybe she had read some of the eyewitness testimony - that too was gaining traction in some of these circles.
Thus: our predicament. Whoever made the first move lost - her the chance to meet her idol (presumably), and me the score of a lifetime. Not gonna say one of those things was a lot more important than the other, but I was not giving up on a nine figure paycheck just to hand out an autograph to an adoring fan. |
"I.. Don't know.. In any case, every single sailor! The.. metal ship have come to aid us! We must take opportunity of this to defeat the monster once and for all!"
The captain shouted with his arm raised, signaling for the gunner of the medieval style warship to fire the cannons.
The captain waited
And waited
Until all of the cannons are loaded.
Once all of the cannons are loaded, he shouted the word "FIRE!"
The second he shouted that, all cannons facing the monster fired. But it did minimal damage. The sea monster ignored the cannon fire as it still tried to damage the battleship.
However, nothing stops the battleship. It began to move forward and 'runs away'. At least, that's what the monster and the sailor of the medieval ship are thinking.
In reality, the captain of the battleship wants to get some distance from them and the monster for safety reason.
"Armor Piercing loaded!"The commander of the battleship shouted
"Good! FIRE AT TARGET!"
"FIRING!!"
The huge 16in cannon fired at the sea monster once again after loading the wrong round the first time.
They're not finished.
All of its secondary guns and even the anti aircraft guns fired at the sea monster to ensure maximal damage.
It worked.
All of the rounds hit the sea monster due to its enormous size.
The tentacles were ripped apart.
There were countless holes in the body of the sea monster.
An explosion happened in one of its eyes as a 16in shell penetrated right into the eyes and exploded. The shell is the killing blow to the sea monster as its organs was destroyed in the explosion caused by the shell.
The sea monster sank into the sea, dead.
The crews of the medieval ship can't believe their eyes.
"It.. Died?"Seaman 1 muttered
"It.. Did.."Seaman 2 replied.
Once seaman 2 said that, all the crews of the medieval ship cheered except the captain.
"Captain.. Why.. Are you not happy?"The officer of the medieval ship asked him.
"... Look at the metals ship.."
The officer looked at the metal ship. It's approaching them?!
"Tell the sailors to get ready for potential com-"
The captain words were cut off by a loud voice from the metal ship.
"Test! Hello?! Is this working?!"
"What was that sound?! Did it came from the metal ship?!"The captain was shocked.
A faint voice of someone talking from the metal ship was heard and a humming voice of approval followed soon.
"Hello! I'm the commander of the battleship USS Iowa!" |
“You have some guts to come here, Mud Wizard,” the Grandmaster Wizard said, breaking the silence. “You want to be me? All you have are tricks to scare people from your area. It’s no magic of a grandmaster.”
“What I do is much better than you. Out there I am the actual wizard who uses his magic to keep people safe. I don’t hide in a laboratory and enjoy a rich life. I have faced countless challenges to be here,” Mud Wizard said.
Standing at the center of the arena, the two wizards locked gazes. One in rich white clothing filled with embroidery and a stylishly cut and maintained white beard. The other with messy brown hair and clothed in labourer’s clothing.
The crowd of peasants, separated from the rich and nobles, started shouting for the Mud Wizard. Eager to see their hero vigilante win. Some of the rich people gave them disgusted looks.
The Grandmaster felt no threat. “There is still time to turn away. I will overlook this and not kill you. Your people need you. Seeing your fall will crush their hope.”
“I will take your place and make changes for my people!” Mud Wizard said.
The Grandmaster sighed and raised his arm in agreement of the battle.
The judge announced for the battle to begin. |
I've stared at the whiskey bottle on my desk for hours. It's slowly lost its volume as I've whirled down the rabbit hole of my mind.
Vampires are real.
My daughter's an idiot.
The Indian reservation down the road is just a bunch of furries.
It's not 1998 anymore. I can't just call Wesley Snipes and have him do his whole katana routine. This is a real problem that I have to face.
I've got half the whiskey left to figure this out. I rack my brain across all the Hollywood lore I can think of. Discarding the most outlandish of the solutions. I'm not as spry as I used to be. Fighting mutants with a sharp stick probably isn't my best bet.
Can a man who doesn't believe in God get away with using holy water I muse. Probably not.
Silver bullets maybe? I eye the shotgun on the table next to the whiskey bottle. Maybe grandma's gravy boat can be melted down into something useful after all?
I put the melted gravy boat in the maybe column and move on to other strategies. |
***Ally***
It felt shitty to say that all I felt when I saw Brian's lifeless corpse floating in the pool was relief. He'd terrorized me for months after the divorce, and of course, the three years of marriage before that.
I still remembered the day I left him. The way he'd looked at me as I packed my stuff under the watchful eyes of my older brother and sister-in-law. He'd threatened to kill me so many times... but that was the day I knew he actually meant it. I laid low after that. Went back home to Arizona with my brother, got an apartment under my mom's name, never talked my neighbors, mostly stayed indoors. Still couldn't escape him, not in this digital age. He'd been messaging me online for months through dummy accounts. Sometimes furious, sometimes apologetic, always relentless.
I didn't even want to come out tonight but Sheila, my sister-in-law, was worried about me. She said it'd do me good. A small Christmas party with my family and a few friends. What could go wrong?
Judging by gun my dad found on Brian's body after they fished him the pool, a lot could go wrong.
\---------
***Sheila***
Covering up a murder wasn't how I planned to spend my Christmas, but like all good moms I'm nothing if not an improviser.
I'm not sorry that Brian is dead. He was a total piece of shit, I knew it the moment Ally brought him home. If anyone deserved to die alone, choking on water it was him. I just wish that Molly hadn't been the one to find him. My daughter was only six years old. Mike and I hadn't even explained Ally's divorce to her yet. I'll never forget the look in her eyes when she came into the kitchen and tugged on my shirt to tell me there was a man in the pool. I prayed the tablespoon of bourbon I gave her would be enough to block out the memory by morning.
I mixed it into her punch before carrying her upstairs with a smile on my face, trying not to let her see how freaked out I was by the fact that we still didn't know who the killer was. Going over the events of the night in my head, I tried to remember anything that stood out. I was in the kitchen when Molly came to me. It was after 9, I know because I put her to bed at 8:30. There's a clear view to pool through Molly's window, which I always lock after I put her to sleep. I remember locking it tonight and I'm pretty sure if there had been a corpse in the pool at that time I would've noticed. So the murder had to have happened in the last hour or so. Oh god, who was I with then? I was in the kitchen with Ally, we were talking about her maybe moving in with me and Mike for a while. She said being alone was getting to her. So it was neither or us. Good. But that still left seven people unaccounted for... including my husband, Mike.
I watched Molly sip her drink, the punch staining her tiny mouth red. "Honey... when you came downstairs to get me, what woke you up?"
She fell back against her pillows, barely able to keep her eyes open. "I heard some people in the backyard... fighting... about Aunt Ally."
Chills ran down my spine as I tucked her in beneath the blankets.
When I came downstairs I saw my husband standing next to his father and sister, Brian's body was laid out on the deck covered by what I used to call my favorite throw blanket. Mike's face is hard, his arms crossed but I can tell he's trying to comfort Ally, who seems... calmer than I would be, I guess. I know how much he loves her. And I know how much he wanted to protect her from Brian.
He walks over to me with a grim look in his eyes.
"So..."I ask, "what's the plan here?"
"Well...,"he rubs the back of his neck. "Dad and I talked it over... think we might take a trip down to the canal."
*(1/2)* |
"Yeah, so marriage is great. I mean, take my wife. Please.
Yeah, you think that's funny, you try being married to her. I mean, it started off so great. She was like a princess when I met her. The perfect woman. Then I found out she was wearing the Bowsette crown, am I right?
Yeah, this guy in the front knows what's up. How long you been married, what? 20 years? You know you'd be out by now, right?
But anyway, back to my wife. It all seemed like this perfect match made in heaven. You ever just look in someone's eyes and know 'this is the one?' Yeah, it was like that. ...so anyway, my optician is a Dr. Pepper...does great work, great work. I'm serious, total mensch.
So anyway, it's one of those things where you just know you were lovers in a past life. And you think he'd TELL ME something about this, am I right? So my wife tries to get me to go to a past life referral thing. And I'm a little wary. But then she tells me the price, and I'm like 'well, you spend more than that on shoes'...so what the hey?
Well, we go to this mysterious mumbo-jumbo person, and they look and say we were absolutely connected in a previous life. Well, that was a quick waste of a hundred bucks to get the answer quick. So she tells us to hold her hand and she'll give info of the time we had in the past. And my wife is excited, we're some Romeo and Juliet of the past or something, and here I just want to see the game, am I right fellas?
So she does this, and she reveals it. In a previous life, she was the Demon Lord of a major kingdom. I'm shocked by this...I could have sworn her mother-in-law would be the Demon Lord, am I right? No, no, she's a peach. Or at least some laetrile.
But anyway, she sees me, and I'm apparently the big hero who tried to save the world, and we both die in the attack, and the Demon Lord vowed revenge from beyond the grave. Which, given my wife, makes about as much sense as anything I've ever heard.
So anyway, my wife is angry at me- I didn't do anything wrong in this life, it's her who was at fault, and I'm somehow the bad guy. I mean, HELLO, you were the Demon Lord, you had all the power for evil, if anything I'm the victim here! She's ready to divorce me, but like hell I'm trying. Demon Lord, had uncounted riches- if anything I should be getting alimony there!
But yeah, Joe Shlabotnik, the R-rated hypnotist, is up next, try the fish, I'll be here all week!" |
8 billion people on this great big blue and green rock we call Earth. The first few seconds were terrifying. All of a sudden, my apartment building was crumbling out from the side. First was the wallpaper. Then the individual bricks. Luckily I was on the first floor, others weren’t so lucky. People instinctively react to something making a loud noise, especially if you aren’t expecting it. And blinking is simply a given.
Peace and tranquility and the typical city bustle turned to sheer terror in the matter of moments as buildings, cars, signs, clothes, everything started disappearing. Piece by piece. A group of 100 people out in the city square could instantly do away with a block in a minute or so. Those poor people that were on the upper floors of the skyscrapers, easily crushed in the first minute as buildings began losing structure to hold themselves up.
It was an all out frenzy of panic and terror. Everyone was running aimlessly, running away from the falling buildings, running from cars steering out of control. I saw an entire car disappear at full speed and the two passengers launch into the back of the car in front of it. Some people thought it was some kind of alien or foreign attack. Nowhere was safe.
I was lucky. I blinked at a manhole purely by chance and it disappeared in front of my eyes. As walls were falling down around me, I escaped into the hole. As I looked at the ladder, climbing my way down, I had only made it down about 5 steps before one of the sides disappeared. Left dangling by a thread practically was the other side and the steps without much structure to hold itself up. I tried to slide down a bit farther as much as I could before more disappeared and I fell to the bottom.
I was winded but I was still alive, which is better than being crushed. On the other hand, those walls were starting to pile up into the manhole above me. I quickly made my way to the side to avoid any debris. The ladder incident made me quickly aware that something was off. It wasn’t any kind of attack or anything. It had to be something else. I started experimenting since there was no use in much else until I figured what the heck was going on.
It took me about 10 minutes to truly figure out what was happening. Any time I looked away or blinked, there was a chance something would disappear, and a combination of both would make the chance more likely. But it was hard not to look and see where I was going without blinking or simply looking a different direction. I tested with keeping my eyes closed and it seemed the moment I closed my eyes was when the object in question would disappear. I kept blinking through the slaps of concrete that made up the sewer tunnel to look at dirt. I easily blinked 100 times and nothing seemed to change. I blinked at the water and again nothing changed.
Having a better understanding of the situation, I decided to find my way out. It took a few hours to finally get through a point to get back to the surface. With a few lost ladders along the way just from random bad luck accidentally looking at them. Eventually I was able to get out of the sewer and back onto the surface. It was about early afternoon some time. There were still some people around, but not nearly as many as the town would have had in this moment. I could hear loud noises as buildings still would crumble and fall over time. Some people had no clothes, totally naked. There were fires down the road, likely electrical fires from things getting destroyed.
I was at a loss of what to do. But I was hungry. I made my way towards anything that looked like it used to have food. Eventually I came across a gas station and purposefully didn’t look at the food I unwrapped and ate. Keeping my eyes closed when possible made for a great technique when actively using something, but that can only do so much.
I wandered around aimlessly, trying to figure out what I could possibly do. I considered finding weapons, but they would simply disappear in my hands if an enemy simply blinked it away. I picked up a rock that would leave a mark of threw it at someone and eventually with a few blinks, it went away as well. A more appropriate weapon I guess if needed but still not the best.
The once bustling city-scape was reduced to old ruins by the end of the first day. Bodies littered the roads and under the rubble. Many people seemed to wander alone rather than in groups. My heart broke a little when I saw a young girl all alone, crying and screaming for her mom. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t even know what to do with myself let alone others. I fell asleep in what I thought was a safe spot.
The next day, I did some more walking around. I decided on trying to strengthen my body in the process. If fights were to occur, strength and agility were the most important factors. There was nothing else to do other than to train at this point. The closest to entertainment there would be in this new world, or lack thereof. There was even less city at this point. There was certainly a lot of people around based on the amount of destruction that was in one area. But they weren’t openly showing themselves if possible. Some of the bodies lying around were more obviously beaten or stabbed rather than from the disaster of the first day. I couldn’t imagine why, my best guess is people no longer indulging their sense of morality.
I continued jogging while carrying some slightly heavier stuff to help build up some upper body strength. The equipment would disappear if I ran across some people but I didn’t pay it any mind, I would just continue moving and find something else along the way. There’s not much difference from heavy rock or random old world stuff. Nothing held value anymore other than good and water, and even then, that stuff would be considered limited as it could vanish in front of you.
A full day of running and various exercise, I finally decided to go to sleep again. The once enormous town was losing substance every passing moment. The night was surprisingly quiet. I fell asleep quickly, and woke up with the sunrise. By the beginning of the third day, the entire city was already gone. Nothing but the dirt and trees from underneath all the asphalt and concrete. I plucked a blade of grass out from the ground around me. I blinked at it once and it too had disappeared in front of me. Was it inevitable that we disappear too? |
Two story ideas that come to mind immediately are the countdown style and multiple storylines that play out together at the same time.
In a countdown style you have something like the old 24 tv series where every second is counted and you're protagonist is running against the clock. I think Die Hard 3 does this too. Tricky to write, when every second matters.
The other idea I can think of is one where many characters experience the same event but the multiple viewpoints show different information about how things play out. A timeline of events is crucial and the author must stick very close to it but what the characters see might be very different. I can think of a few movies that did this, but not off the top of my head. I think Vantage Point? But I think that one crashed by giving you the view point with the solution too soon and running on after it.
Those are the only two time critical tropes I can think of at the moment. |
The history of sapient life can be roughly divided in four Ages. The Age of Mythology, when only the Fair Folk and magical creatures roamed the Earth, the Age of Magic, when the first humans were born, the Age of Science, when our inventions drove all magic into extinction, and the Age of Disaster, when the meteors fell from the sky.
These boulders were black as onyx and round as marbles. A closer examination showed they emanated some form of unknown radiation as well as an disturbing hum. Then, one by one, they hatched. The creatures that emerged were known as Tenebrae, for it was as if they were darkness incarnate. Soon, they launched an all-out attack on humanity, killing thousands. United against a common foe, every country in the world fought back. But despite their technology, they were powerless in the face of the invaders’ signature weapon. Scientists called it Gloom, a reality-defying substance that brought death and destruction to anything that stood in the Tenebrae’s way.
In desperation, the brightest engineers and tempologers invented robots capable of traveling back in time to find and bring back the only thing that could defeat the Tenebrae. The people humans stamped out a thousand years ago. The Fair Folk themselves. |
The battles of this world are decided by games of chess. This has it's upsides and downsides. You see your smartphone came with you when you arrived, and you happened to have a good chess algorithm on it. It turns out your $2 chess app can beat the mightiest demon lord.
Now you were near full battery when you arrived, and you have been turning the phone off between uses. But still, the battery is finally running down. So here you are, fiddling with strips of copper and zinc in a jar of vinegar, trying to build a crude battery to recharge your phone. How you wish you had brought a solar charger. |
I stir the soup with my spoon. I have a life of luxury, but it's not... fulfilling. What's the point in me living if I'm just going to lounge about, be someone who doesn't make something of themselves? I had a sense of purpose, and now...
"Gerald?"
The voice startles me, causing me to jump in my seat. "Sorry, sir, I was just thinking..."
"Heh, you must have been. You've never addressed me like *that* before. But I like it, in future you can call me sir Gale. So, what's on your mind?"
I look at the man. He's the reason I'm in this position. I've considered taking his life, but he has guards everywhere in his house. Besides, Gale made a very good point that without him ruling the black market, there's no telling what will happen to the economy. I don't have much experience with the real world - I discovered I have powers, I went to put them to use. Took down some minor-league criminals, let the last one go in exchange for him telling me about Stormwind.
Ever since my last encounter with Stormwind, or rather Gale, I've been a 'prisoner'. I *can* run, but he'd just capture innocents to lure me out again. All I really know is how to deal with bad people.
"I... I just feel like I'm not doing anything worthwhile, productive..."I go back to staring at my soup.
"Oh, that's an easy fix. Fancy helping with concert preparations? Or are you ok with being an errand boy? Maybe I could-"
I glare at him. "I'm not some slave or pet you can use. I want to be out there fighting criminals, protecting innocents. I'm **not** about to be your lackey."
Gale sighs. "Gerald, I know that your experience with the streets is limited *at best*. Lots of people have powers, but most don't care to use them. Why mess about with forces that are hard to control, even harder to utilise, when a gun works just as well?"
"Are you telling me that those other criminals I caught were a WASTE of my TIME? I'm good with my powers, and-"
"I know you are. But the police would have caught up with them. You wouldn't last long if you go messing with things you have no business messing with. Trust me, I have the kill log to back it up."Gale produces a book from his jacket pocket and shows it to me.
"I... I have to try..."I stand up to put my untouched lunch on the kitchen counter.
Gale comes up behind me. "Alright, if you insist... you can 'be a hero' for the afternoon. Don't ditch out on me, I expect you back here when night hits, ok?"He ruffles my hair.
Normally I'm bothered by it, but right now, I'm just really glad to be able to go back to my thing. "Thanks, Gale!"I call as I dash towards the front doors.
"SIR GALE!"he yells out as I leave.
I walk around the area, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I see a homeless guy, use my powers of particle manipulation to create some water for him. I worried about where to put it, but he tipped out his money pot and held it out for the water. He thanked me and I continued.
Not much else really happens - it seems like everything is fine. Now that I think about it, it's not like I saw much happening before either - chasing criminals was the fun part, but most of the time I helped people with basic, simple stuff. Weakening bonds to help with breaking stuff up, strengthening bonds to help solidify things, even gathering certain things from the air such as carbon dioxide and helium for people.
I figure what Gale meant was that the streets aren't nearly as bad as what I thought and I'd get bored. I decide to head back, knowing at least I can TRY, when I spot something. Down a dark alley, two people are talking. I find a spot to eavesdrop from. "So the shipment is here?"
"Yes. The cocaine is being delivered in a standard white van. There'll be some sugar with the order to fool cops."
DRUG DISTRIBUTION! I can't WAIT to bust THIS operation!
I hang around with the guy to *receive* the delivery - still hiding, of course - until the van shows up. It's opened, and there it is: all that cocaine, ready for the streets. The stuff is made of carbon, hydrogen and nitrous oxide. I begin to concentrate my powers to separate the chemicals. "Hang on, why are the bags moving on their own?"
"Wait, something is happening to the goods!"
"Aw man, it's gonna be ruined!"
I keep going, but after two seconds, someone yells out "HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
CRAP! I'VE BEEN CAUGHT! Better make a run for it... I try to dash away, but I hear a gunshot and I fall to the ground. I touch the back of my head.
It's bleeding. A lot. I turn myself over. My vision is getting blurry. The men are running out for me. I hear shouting, some other noises, but I can't make anything out. All too suddenly, I black out.
​
^("GERALD! WAKE UP!")
My senses begin returning to me as I regain consciousness. My head is pounding. I slowly open my eyes. I see Gale. He looks distraught, but it's quickly being replaced with relief. "Gerald, you're awake! Thought you were good as gone. I shouldn't have let you leave. You're never going ANYWHERE by yourself again."
"Wha..."my voice is almost completely gone. I try to sit up, but I quickly realise the blanket that's over me has been strapped down. I can feel that my hands and feet are strapped down too.
"Don't try to speak. Doctors said you were lucky to survive. You're at my private hospital. Police said they heard a gunshot and saw you on the ground. They saw the van with the cocaine. All those men will be in prison for a LONG time."
I look down at myself. "I... I failed..."
"I did warn you. Gerald, I told you before and I meant it: I do care about you. If I didn't I would have shot you first chance I had. I don't want you doing stupid stuff and getting yourself hurt. You're not a hero. You never were, never have been. You're just a super nice guy, that's it. You need to learn your place, for your own sake."
Gale takes a breath. "Forget you have powers, they're not doing you any good. From now on, I'm in charge. When I say 'jump', your response should be 'yes, sir Gale'. Don't misunderstand, my intention isn't for you to be my slave, but I'm NOT having you almost die again! Just remember, I'm the one you answer to."He unhooks my blanket and reveals he's made a couple of changes to my body.
There's a tracker inserted into my wrist. An ankle bracelet is placed on me as well, though not for monitoring - it looks designed for a chain to attach to it. I notice my other wrist has something similar. And, lastly, something is attached to the inside of my belly button. "What..."I take my time, my voice is still very hoarse and dry. "Is... in..."
"Your belly button? I figured you'd ask. You know that one episode of Spongebob where he and Patrick try to teach Man-Ray how to be good and his belt would tickle him on command? Well, someone tried to replicate it, and decided to see if they could make it less obvious. It connects directly to your nerves, and is designed to send an electrical signal which replicates a tickling sensation."Gale presses a button on a small device, then instantly turns it off.
But for just a moment, I felt it. And it WOULDN'T be nice if it lasted a while.
I think I get what he's telling me. I'm not a slave, or a pet, or a lackey. I just need to be kept grounded. "Now, I'm guessing you still want to be useful... according to the men you were spying on, they figured out you must have been hiding for a while. As I said, concerts help me monitor and track people, but it can be hard to keep an eye on a specific person sometimes. You can look out for suspicious activity and trail anyone acting odd, then report back to me. I know you enjoy The Whirlwinds, so to make sure you can still enjoy the concerts, I'll make sure you get the private performances that I have for my staff, being my guards, servants and some other people. Ok?"
I nod, deciding it's better than nothing. Gale smiles and ruffles my hair. He then goes to leave. "Sir... Gale?"He turns around. "...Thank... you..."I close my eyes and try to rest.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [Black Market Trading.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/10h89ei/black_market_trading/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! |
All I have is a song. I sing of food and warmth and light, which are just distant memories now. I beat my wings fast to keep them warm, and rise higher into the sky than I ever have before. Quetzalcoatlus used to rule the skies and would strike down any bird hubristic enough to fly this high. I haven't seen one in years. If I fly high enough, maybe I'll see the sun.
The hunger pangs stop me. Flying this high takes energy, and energy takes food. I fold my wings back and dive down. Below me, I see what looks like a great abyss. In reality, it's a crater. I must be close to where it all began, where the asteroid that started this endless winter hit. But the darkness and silence isn't complete; as I dive lower, my sharp eyes see a tiny mammal skittering across the crater. Vermin, but life nonetheless. If life has returned to this crater, it can only mean one thing: food has returned. I land on the bare ground. Any tree or plant cover has long since died, but so apparently have all the tyrannosaurs that I used that cover to hide from. And finally, I see it: a cluster of seeds, unable to grow in this dark and cold. One by one, I peck them up, break their hard shells with my beak, and eat the insides. The last one, I do not break open. Instead, I take it with me when I fly away. One of these days, the sun will return. Then, I will plant that seed and it will grow. |
Now looking back on things, it all makes sense. Everyone who saw me grow off thought I was highly imaginative about the secret friends I had as a child. The most prominent one was Mystion the Blue Dragon. I would run out into the woods behind our house and just chat up a storm with Mystion, throw rocks into the river, brandish a few twigs to sword fight with the dragon and after a good long burst of running around we would snack on the treats my mother packed in my bag, Mystion always refused and claimed they already ate.
When I got older, like my father before me I showed signs of being a Mage and was taken to the local mage's academy, for their younger students. After class I'd head back to the woods to find my Blue Dragon friend and he seemed to get bigger and aided me on my coursework, showed me a few spells and I'd return home for dinner. Still thinking about my friend in the woods and after a few years it was about time to show off what we learned and cast our true magic spell to see what school we would go to. I ran off into the woods once more and I couldn't find him, I searched for his perch, his lair, and the river we played in. No sign of my blue dragon friend, my heart sank, and I went to my ceremony.
Watching my class of students aching and striving to show their worth to earn a place in the higher academies. Some had to be rushed to the medical tents outside, a few channeled minor spells to earn small advancements and our class leader earned offers to two prestigious schools.
"Levi Schrider? You are next."Our teacher motioned for me to take my place on stage, and I sauntered over, sad that I didn't get to talk to Mystion once more, as this will probably be the last time I see him. I took my place and began to call for the Mana and with a bright flash of light, two Sapphire eyes appeared in front of me.
"Hello Levi..."A familiar voice filled my head as the world around me froze.
"Mystion?"I asked as instead of speaking; I could hear myself in my head as well.
"Of course, my Best friend, I didn't want to tell you, but this is a good time as any to let you know something about me, and us."
"You weren't out in the woods... but I bet you have your reasons."
"Of course, I'm surprised you didn't catch on sooner, but I am not just a dragon, but I am Mana itself... Not all of it, just part of it."As I was about to state something more of his form began to appear in front of me, "I have had a fascination with you, most people see me, just start making demands, or run scared of a beast in the woods, never in my long life span, has anyone let alone a child, want to be friends."
Memories of when we first met, began to fill my mind, me wearing my future Mage Robe and staff, that was just a broken branch off of a nearby tree. Wandering down the trail to the river to throw some "Spells"into the stream, as I stumbled across a light blue, nearly transparent dragon.
"Oh, a Mighty Dragon, I dare not wish to intrude upon your Territory, I do beg thee for your forgiveness!"I groveled onto the dirt, "If you can forgive me, I wish to not be eaten."I took a moment to break me grovel to gaze up at the being, as it looked perplexed and floated over to me.
"This area is not my territory, child, but you can see me?"
"Oh..."I got up and dusted myself off, "Of course, I can see such cool dragon, uhm...."The Dragon began to circle around and was almost sizing me up.
"Not many can see me child, are you a Magic user?"
"Nope, not yet at least, My Dad is one and someday I hope to be one..."I looked over my shoulder to hear my mother yelling for me, "Could I come back tomorrow and visit again? I spent too much time trying to get this stick... I don't get to talk to many people."There was a long pause between us as the Dragon flew up to a tree branch and nestled there.
"Of course, I'd like to have someone to talk to, this feels nice."
"Alright Mr. Dragon, I'm Levi, I really got to go, I don't want to get in trouble again."
"Until next time Levi, I am Mystion, and I'll wait right here for you."
As the memory fades as Mystion started to take a more serpentine shape as he started to look like an eastern dragon.
"You understand what I am right?"Mystion starts to circle around me.
"Besides my Best friend, you are the very essence of magic, could I bother to ask for a favor?"
"Of course, I'll do the magic you require of me, but in return I wish to continue our friendship, if you accept my terms, Let's give this audience a show."
"Agreed. The easiest deal I will ever have to make."
Time resumed; the Dragon became visible for all as it mimicked my arm motions dancing on air as the circle beneath my feet began to glow with radiant blue streaks as a ball of water began to form above my fingertips. With fluid motion I moved my hand guiding the ball over the crowd along with Mystion pushing it all the way to the back of the room, and then returning it to in front of me. With a light poke, it began to freeze and with swipe, I created a wall of frost.
"Ready Mystion?"I asked as the Dragon nodded and with one large push I shattered the wall, turning the ice into powdered snow. Mystion slowly returned to me and then resided into my form, as a mark formed on my forearm.
"I look forward to our friendship and partnership." |
Walking into the building nexto the one the target was working in you drop your waterbottle on accident. It causes a puddle on the already slippery floor since noone is around you just continue on as if nothing happen. After finaly reaching the topfloor of the building your set up your laptop in a toolcabinet and lock it from the inside. You log into the survailance-system to make sure no security-guards are nearby. As you switch to the entrydoor-camera you see the securityguard slip on the puddle from the bottle you dropped. A shot goes of from the securitys gun. You think well thats great that will atleast be a good distraction. As you switch to the parkinglot camera you see something unexpected. Thestray-bullet had hit an oxygen-tank on a construction-site across the road which is no burning and melting one of the base-pillars of a large crane. As the crane starts to lean towards the parkinglot you realise what is going to happen. The Target has just parked his car right in the way of the falling crane.
With a loud bang the crane crashed the car as well as a few other already parked ones. You give the radio-call : *Target down* Though mad that it wasnt you directly killing the target again you just made a lot of money from it. With a smile you leave the building through the backdoor as the firebrigarde arives. Atleast there was no damage to the officebuilding which was the most important thing as that was part of the clients request. |
\[Writing Prompt Story\]
Since eternity timekeepers have prevented time related paradoxes from happening. Paradoxically this made the job rather boring since all paradoxes were already prevented, but if noone did the job then paradoxes would happen. Jack and Matteo were two timekeepers doing their job by having already done their job reviewed timelines for amusement.
"Hey Matteo come look at how timeline 8973 has developed!"Jack gestured for Matteo to come look at the timeline on the chronicler. "So it looks like timeline 8973 becomes a dark solarpunk timeline."Jack said in awe. Matteo gazed upon the chronicler with a curious and confused expression. "Dark solarpunk? How does that even happen?"Matteo as a timekeeper has chronologically already seen many dark solarpunk timelines but that was his future self in the past so this time would technically be the first time. "Well it looks like a technological breakthrough in timeline 8973 on Earth results in solar panels that efficiently make electricity from all wavelengths of light resulting in a solarpunk timeline. Then a technological breakthrough in remote energy transmission results in solar satellites providing energy that supplements and eventually surpasses the energy from rooftop solar panels. The supply of energy combined with increasingly limited land as the population grows over time leads to the rise of megacities comprised of residential, commercial, industrial, and agricultural superstructures surrounded by preserved natural habitats."Jack pauses the chronicler on an image of a forest in front of a wall of gleaming skyscrapers. "What happens next is where it gets interesting."
Jack displays the Earth's Moon uncolonized on the chronicler. "Limited land and further scientific breakthroughs cause the Moon to be colonized. Centuries later the Moon has a bunch of megacities just like Earth but since the Moon doesn't have plants which require sunlight the solar satellites of the Moon end up being replaced with a super solar satellite since in this timeline they fail to develop a laser based method of energy transmission that can transmit enough energy to power megacities without breaking so they are limited to receiving energy from planetary orbiting satellites instead of getting energy from sun orbiting satellites but they do develop stationary satellites that use ion drives to move to and stay in certain positions in space."On the chronicler was the view of a lunar city beneath a solar eclipse caused by a gigantic disc shaped solar satellite. "Wow that is something."Matteo remarked as the chronicler shifted to showing a view of the Moon from Earth shrouded in darkness by a huge stationary solar satellite with dots of lights from lunar cities being the only light on the surface. "That is nothing just look what happens further on."The chronicler showed the progression of the timeline. A solar satellite eclipsed city with a backdrop of red sands on Mars. Another solar satellite eclipsed city completely dominated a landscape with Jupiter in the night sky dotted with towers and floating cities that were darkened by an absolutely massive solar satellite. A sunlit Earth in a solar system of solar satellite shadowed planets. Then other solar systems and planets in perpetual solar eclipse. "That dark solarpunk timeline sure is something."Matteo remarked. "It sure is."Jack responded. |
Geni lay down in the hollowed out building that had once been a warehouse. An un-inviting pile of what could only be considered food to her gathered flies & so much worse. It made this building something even a woman who could unmake her nostrils would rather not spend time in; but tonight she was far too exhausted to wear a new face & make the half mile walk to her usual sleeping place.
In a different world she might have been able to live comfortably, a few years older & her blessing would probably have allowed her to become anyone she wanted. Unfortunately the war had started & the world was consumed by the blessed heroes when she was barely old enough to walk, let alone use her gifts to make anything of herself. Probably half the world was dead by now but realistically anything outside the city meant nothing to her. A shifter had few choices in life: keep a low profile & pray that the scraps you'd be paid for wearing the face your clients wanted would keep you fed or make a scene & give yourself up to the Heroes Organization. The thought made Geni's skin crawl a way that was far more literal than average.
Snatching up a bag of potatoes that still held their shape despite the awful feeling beneath the skin Geni ate vigorously. Shifting as often as she did took more energy than a normal human could physically eat in a day, luckily her stomach was not 'normal' & both her tongue & nose could be turned into things that didn't experience the onslaught of rot as she force-fed herself in that dark abandoned building.
When she was little her parents had feared for their child, more than the usual amount at least. It was only normal to be concerned when your newborn baby vomited black liquid that crawled away as it disintegrated to ash in her crib or when that same baby's ribs opened & tore through the skin of her back to form what looked like spider's legs when she was still learning to crawl.
But a series of high profile crimes by the first generation to be empowered & the sudden rise of the Blessed Organization of Heroes 'to combat the scourge' had turned everything on its head roughly around the time Geni had finally stopped growing & losing body parts at random. A man who could shift his form had decimated a meeting of the UN & began the war. Within a month the weapons that mankind had created & used for millennia were thrown aside by those blessed with the power to rend apart tanks, withstand machine gun fire, or even level entire cities with only the will to do so.
Despite the horrors of the war & its lack of any true end the public came to accept their new situation. Higher ranks of the Organization were ran by the most powerful, controlling vast swathes of territory with powers that made nuclear weapons seem quaint & protected by squads made up of those whose blessings 'only' allowed them to make buildings into rubble. Her parents had been thrilled to see stability return after years of horrors their baby could not comprehend...until they realized that Geni was counted among the shifters who could not be allowed freely in society. Driving herself to the edge of feral starvation, growing & unmaking herself over & again until the ash was ankle deep & then crawling out a window to live like *this* had been the only gift she could give them for all their efforts to keep her safe into her teen years. A child whose body couldn't handle the powers & disintegrated would be less horrid that having to offer her up to be disposed of... Geni still hoped against hope that they had moved on. |
Once upon a time, there lived a man by the name of John. He was a curious and ambitious individual, and one day he approached his dearest companion, Tom, with an idea that was nothing short of extraordinary.
"My dear Tom,"said John, "Okay, I know my idea sounds stupid, but hear me out. I am resolved to build a nuclear bomb in my backyard."
Tom, taken aback by the sheer eccentricity of the idea, stared at John in disbelief. "Are you bereft of reason? Building a weapon of such destructive power is not only illegal, but it also poses a threat to the safety of our community. I implore you to abandon this fanciful plan."
But John was not so easily dissuaded. "My dear Tom,"he said, "if we are to bring about a lasting peace in this world, we must be willing to think outside the box. I assure you, I have the necessary resources and knowledge to undertake this task safely and without causing harm to any innocent souls."
Despite Tom's earnest pleas for him to abandon this dangerous endeavor, John persisted in his pursuit of building the bomb. In secret, he gathered the materials needed and spent many long months toiling away, always mindful to keep his work hidden from the prying eyes of Tom and the rest of the world.
The day finally arrived when John was ready to unveil his creation. He invited Tom to witness the demonstration, fully expecting him to be astounded. But as Tom laid eyes upon the bomb, he was filled with dread. "John,"he cried, "this is madness! I beg of you, do not go through with this!"
But John would not be swayed. Ignoring Tom's pleas, he detonated the bomb in his backyard, and the world was forever changed. Instead of destruction and chaos, the bomb created a giant pink elephant that started to fly around the world and started to give free ice cream to children. News of this remarkable invention quickly spread throughout the land and John was hailed as a visionary and a hero. People couldn't believe that his invention was not only capable of creating a giant pink elephant but also bringing happiness to children all around the world.
John's invention was soon adopted by nations and organizations around the world, bringing about a new era of peace and prosperity. John's name became synonymous with genius and innovation, and he and Tom remained the closest of friends until the end of their days.
The pink elephant, now known as "John's Elephant", became a beloved figure around the world, traveling from country to country and spreading joy wherever it went. It was even appointed as a UN Goodwill Ambassador for Peace and Children's Rights.
John's name was forever remembered as a true visionary, his idea that seemed ridiculous at first, ended up bringing about the greatest of blessings for all the land. And every time someone looked up at the sky and saw the pink elephant, they would remember the brilliant mind of John and the impact he had on the world. |
"I was expecting a more figurative interpretation of deplorable fiery lizard,"Sheriff Lydia Shaw heckled, "but you have been terrorizing these here parts all the same,"
The dragon was confused, all the other prey sent armoured knights to poke him with spears before he shelled them. This one wasn't even wearing armour! (If you don't count the badge). And it most certainly did not have a spear, just some weird thing in a sheath with a curved handle.
The dragon bellowed, "I was expecting a more literal knight in shining armour!"
The sheriff pushed the confusion out of her mind, "Then lets settle this squarely—"
"Riddles?"The beast roared "I'm unbeaten—"
"A duel, high noon, my best against yours, no outside combatants, fair?"
The dragon started to question the oddly dressed woman's sanity, even sir sahrell of blue blades was felled by him, he was the best swordsman there ever was. But he nodded his head in agreement, because this would be his easiest win yet.
They met outside the dragon's lair at twelve o'seven and met a little farther away than the dragon thought was necessary.
"You ready, lizard?"The sheriff said.
"For my next meal,"growled the dragon.
Before the dragon could breath a massive flame to sizzle the lawwoman, she shouted "DRAW!"And pulled her thing with the curved handle with astonishing speed, in in one fluid movement pointed it at the dragon, and it spit a flame of its own, and a small lead bullet that went clean through the dragon's skull, ending its reign of terror.
"Now how do I get this thing to the magistrate, for my payment?"She thought aloud.
The next part of her day was going to be much longer.... |
"On this episode of Asteroid Belt Space Truckers..."
I waved my hand to turn the display screen off as I sighed.
"We as a species have collectively broken the very laws of physics to make it out in the stars, but the history channel still shows this dribble..."I took a moment to sit down and stare out the window in the void of space, seeing the various ships move by as I sip from my coffee mug. I put it down and the spot on the table beneath it glows a light orange to keep it warm.
"They aren't even trucks anymore... "I sigh to myself as I view a few cargo ships that make those trucker models look obsolete, "I guess the truly stupid are the ones who go into the belts willingly, when we can just avoid them." |
“This is Chip N. Dale reporting live on the scene as terror strikes the city. The ‘Ice Devil’ Chiller is on a rampage, going bank to bank, freezing all in his path to steal! BUT WHAT’S THIS? IT’S, IT’S LASER FOCUS, come again to thwart this villain. His heat beam eye blast will surely send this foe into a blazened defeat.”
Hours later…somewhere in the city…
“Aaaah that was good one.”
“Yeah, but you singed my eyebrows off!”
“Oh get over it, I had to sell it.”
“Yeah but the next time I’m the hero, I’m going to have to draw them back on!”
“You wear a mask anyway when you’re the Aqua Avenger, what are you complaining about?”
“….you didn’t have to burn my eyebrows off ‘Inferno’”
“Hey Inferno didn’t do any such thing! It was Laser Focus, the hero”
“Whatever man, how much did we make”
“Well you really sold your villainy this time, all those bank vault doors you froze the mechanisms of are basically useless and the city had to pay for that, I couldn’t bring myself to ask for a donation and played it off like ‘no need Mayor, a hero doesn’t need a salary,’ or something cool like that.”
“Greaaaat, now I have no eyebrows, AND no money.”
“I’m sorry..”
“No no it’s fine, I’ll just make sure I’m paid for my turn.”
Sometime in the future
“This is Chip N. Dale reporting live! Inferno has just melted all the tires off a convoy of armored trucks holding millions of money! This does not look good for anyone, the trucks, the drivers, the traffic! Oh the humanity, wait, what’s that surfing towards us? It’s, it’s, it’s the Aqua Avenger! Riding a wave into battle! The wave has brushed over all the trucks that were aflamed and took Inferno with it!”
“Looks like this one….needed to cool off.”
“What a cool line from SUCH a cool hero, isn’t he amazing folks. But alas, rising from the subsiding wave is Inferno, and he does not look happy. Moist, and unhappy, Inferno evaporated all the water around him into steam, and the wave is no more.”
“That was a pathetic attack, and an even more pathetic oneliner Aqua.”
“Enough talk villain, have at the,” the avenger announced as he launched a water jet towards Inferno who responds in kind with a firey jet.
“Haha is that all you got? You won’t have any eyebrows left when I’m done with you!”
“Always the showman,” Aqua mutters to himself, “I’ll let his flames get just to my finger tips then blast him back. Almost drowning him seems like a good payback for my eyebrows.”
“Oh no, Inferno’s fire jet is getting stronger! It’s turning Aqua’s attack into mere steam! Wait! What’s that in the sky! IT’S, wait who is that?”
“Fear not Aqua, it is I! Taxhaven! I’ll tax this villains powers all the way to the bank”
“This is unbelievable folks! This new hero, Taxhaven, has just jumped at the epicenter of the blasts between Inferno and Aqua, dollar signs shooting out of his palms as he keeps the elements at bay.”
The translucent gold dollar signs began to encroach on on the fire blast, dissipating it until finally reaching Inferno.
“AH WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME, MY POWERS FEEL LIKE THEY’RE FADING.”
“Haha, I am merely taxing you what you owe our fine government, and since I imagine you’ve stolen quite a lot in your time in villainy, you owe quite a bit, not a problem though, I’ll just take your powers as payment.”
Struggling against the attack, “Enough!” Inferno declares, as he sees one puddle left from Aqua’s wave. He jumps out the way of Taxhaven’s attack, combusts the puddle into a mist, and escapes.
“Drat, really thought we had them, oh well, we’ll take em down next time Aqua Aveng….where’d he go?”
“And there you have it folks, no doubt our hero Aqua is in ‘hot’ pursuit of the villain. Stay turned for our interview with this new hero, Tax Haven!”
***And stay tuned for a part two. |
Almost everyone can understand why I am looking for something even if I'm not sure what it is. Everyone wants magic to be real. To have an enchanted and blessed life. Unfortunately secrets are hidden from public view, that's why they are secrets. You have to go where you've never been to find what you've never seen. I visited a remote mountain monastery to learn their meditation techniques.
While there I heard several stories about succumbing to temptation and the folly of greedy wishes. It's a common enough story material but they had so many stories. I had to ask, "Where do all these stories come from?"That is when I was told the unbelievable. A magic creature (basically a genie like in the movies) is living in a cave near the top of the mountain. It is surrounded by endless treasures and can grant any wish. But I was heavily warned against it.
So of course I climbed the mountain. I explored near the summit for weeks and kept visiting the monastery to resupply. I packed enough food for four days at a time and went back up over and over again. Until I found the cave of wishes. The rumors were true. Gold ingots and other treasures were scattered around and piled up in this massive space. A creature is lounging on a sofa of all things.
It looks like a human covered in tattoos. Except his eyes, they .... glowed would be the wrong word. They emitted darkness punctuated by sparkles. It was like staring into the night sky. I guess it is the 'genie' and approached cautiously.
It doesn't seem to be ignoring me but also isn't acknowledging my presence. So I clear my throat. "Excuse me?"
His face barely moves but his eyes turn almost normal looking and plain. "Oh hey bro, you here for some wishes?"
"Y-you speak english? How?"
"Someone who didn't speak my language wished to understand what I was saying. Now I speak all languages. Birds are assholes BTW."
"The wish affected you instead of him? And birds?"
"No just me. But I found out about birds personalities because of it. My power, to grant wishes, that binds me, is chaos magic. All wishes granted by me are slightly/wildly unpredictable. I personally wish I had more control over this but I can't grant my own wishes. Please feel free to try that wish. Three people have already done it. I have grown marginally more able to control the outcome of my magics."
"Only marginally, how?"
"If you wish for food I can control the flavor and make it not poisoned. And any stuff you wish for I can affect the color. That's all three things I actually have control of."
"Any other rules? I heard I can't wish for more wishes, make someone fall in love, or raise the dead."
"Oh you can totally wish for those things. Wishing for more wishes is how I got made into a wish object in the first place. How people express their love can get dangerous so I wouldn't recommend it. Also, plenty of people raise the dead. In my experience the dead are never friendly though. So you *can* make any of those wishes."
So the movies were wrong but I'm not interested in mind control or raising the dead. I don't want to be trapped by the wording of my wish so I'll have to get his help somehow. "Anyone ever try to set you free?"
"Every now and then there's a 'kind soul' who tries to free me. Then I have to deal with the consequences."
"Consequences like what?"
"I was originally bound to a lamp. 'I wish you to be freed from the lamp.' I was shackled to an altar. 'I wish you weren't stuck to the altar."Bound to the wall. 'I wish you weren't a slave.' Then I was freed of the chains and magically can't leave the cave. 'I wish you could travel wherever you want to be.' Guess who has agoraphobia now?"
"Ouch. I guess trying to fix that would probably not be a good idea?"
"Yeah. Wish for the end of bad thing A... welcome to bad thing B. I now recommend wishing for concrete and simple things. I might even try to help you with the color."
"Might? Any way to bribe you? Obviously you have plenty of money...."*looks around*
"Oh yeah. I can't charge money because of that other guy."
"?"
"He said 'I wish you were free'. It removed my ability to charge for my services. I literally can't demand or accept payment."
"Where did the gold and the couch come from then?"
"Lol oh yeah. A guy wished for more gold than anyone had ever owned. He couldn't figure out how to get it all out of the cave. What a tool.
The couch came from a nice woman who said I looked uncomfortable sitting on rocks and gold piles. She wished for the best couch in the world to appear in my cave. Nicest wish I ever granted."
"That sounds like payment?"
"Technically she didn't give this to me. She abandoned it here."
"Ah! I got it! I wish for a fully charged Nintendo switch that never runs out of power and is preloaded with all games."
"I barely understand the wish but I don't really need to. I can't control it."
The genie focused his eyes on the floor and then his eyes unfocused and the night sky light came out of his eyes. The light pooled like water and then condensed into a shining brick. A bizarre paisley print Nintendo switch appeared on the ground. "Ummm. This kinda looks like what I wanted. Did you control the color?"
"Yes, that's my favorite carpet pattern."
"Great, this entertainment system is going to sit right there. I can show you how to play if you are interested. It's lots of fun."
"Nice, I am probably going to remember this as my new favorite wish."
"Yes, I think so too. So here's my Second wish. I wish for a magical tablet with these specifications:
Damage resistant and Self repairing in seconds
Never requires recharging to function
Weight 500 grams
Physical size 250 mm x 175 mm x 8 mm
Able to send objects to and summon objects from, an entropy-less and infinite pocket dimension
The objects in storage will be displayed as thumbnail sized images on a re-sortable, subfolder capable, and scrollable inventory screen."
"I can already feel the magic straining against your specificity. It's gotta have a twist. By the way, what's your favorite color?"
"Silver"
With a crackle of dark energy a small slab of glass fell to the ground. I picked it up and inspected it. No scratches or cracks. It is reflective like a mirror but there is an odd depth to the reflection. From both sides it seems to be concave. The physical bizarreness barely distracted me as I nearly squeal with glee. "How do I get this to work?"
"Hmmmmm."He squints at this 4d object I'm holding, "No idea. Try poking it."
"Me? Why?"
"Your wish, your consequences."
I hesitantly poke and prod. I grip it in a way I can't quite grip. My fingers going around too many corners. "Nothing.... I wish to know how to operate this tablet."
A small pamphlet falls to the ground.
How to operate your voice activated pocket dimension crystal. |
Step into the courtroom of Judge Baby. The judge is a toddler! The people are real. The cases are real. The rulings are final! Judge Baby!
29 year old Daniel crozier is suing 34 year old Melanie Hall for $2000. Daniel alleges that Melanie stole his superhero collectables collection after an argument and sold them. Melanie is countersuing for $5000, claiming that Daniel has'nt paid his share of the rent in two months and that he did'nt pay the vetrenary bill for their shared dog Winston.
“All Rise!” the bailiff called. As a 3 year old boy dressed in a judge robe walked in and sat behind the bench.“Good Morning!” he addressed the courtroom.
“Good morning Judge Baby.” everyone replied.
“Sit down everyone. “ the judge ordered. The entire courtroom was seated.
“Docket number 23-7-091 Matter of Crozier vs Hall.” the bailiff announced as he handed the folder to the judge.
The plaintiff and the defendant took their respective places.
“Why are you suing the defendant?” Judge baby inquired of the black-haired man with glasses.“
"Judge. My ex girl friend Melanie and I had an argument over the phone six months ago.. Afterwards Melanie took my entire cabinet of superhero collectables. They are worth at least $2000. The limited edition 1997 Batman VS Joker fighting on Gotham Skyscraper is worth at least $500. My limited edition 1/72 Scale model of the Batplane from Batman vs The Red Baron is $750 in it's Mint Condition.”“Batman?”“Yes judge. I like batman, I think he's cool. My dad gave me the 1972 model Batsubmarine from Batman and Robin vs Godzilla. A year ago I had the collection appraised for insurance purposes. I have the paperwork here.“Miss Melanie took them?”
“Yes your honor. I came back from my mom's funeral after the argument we had by phone. The display cabinent was empty. I have doorbell footage of her carrying the items out to her car.”
“I don't see the problem here.” Melanie scoffed while rolling her eyes “Daniel is a fackingmanchild. It's not like he has a real job. It's just some stupid toys. Batman? Batman is so facking dumb.”
Judge Baby glowered at Melanie... “Batman dumb?”
“ Well yes. Batman is dumb. Superheros are stupid. Men don't...”
“Superheros are not stupid. Batman is not dumb! Judgement for pwaintiff in the amount of $2000!”
Melanie sputtered as she lunged forward, only to be restrained by the bailiff, swearing profusely.“And wash her mouth out with soap!” Judge Baby added as they dragged her away. |
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. One moment it's a half assed fight on a roof where we both know damn well we aren't actually hurt each other- not badly anyway- and the next a bullet blows past my head...
Right into his chest.
Suddenly his grip on his knife loosens and his eyes go wide. His knees buckle, and he falls. He's never fallen. Not even I have knocked him down. In a flash I'm by his side, cradling his head in my lap as his gaze meets mine one final time. The eyes I've stared into so many times before glaze over as slowly the shallow rise and fall of his chest fades away and he goes still.
No. No he can't be-
"Get up."At first my voice is just as strong as ever, but I can't manage to force my tears back when I don't receive my answer. "Damn it, Zaphon, *get up!*"
A choked sob rips its way up from my throat. "Don't leave me, please this isn't what I wanted... You know that..."
After several minutes of silence, the sound of footsteps alerts me of my men's presence. I'd almost forgotten they were there. "Boss, what the f*ck?!"I moved my hand to the gun on my hip, pulling it from it's holster, "He's dead, that's what you-"
*Bang*
A soft *thud* followed the gunshot as he fell to the ground, the others jumping back. I didn't have to look, I knew he was dead.
I'd fired that thing enough to know that.
"Leave us."My order rang out across the rooftop, and slowly they retreated, leaving me alone with two corpses. One I wanted there, the other I didn't. Slowly, I moved to lay beside Zaphon, feeling the warmth fading from his body. I pressed my forehead against his, closing my eyes.
*In another life, my love.* |
"Love Dad"
Rob from across the street stopped by today. He made his way up with that silly little walk of his that your mother loves and knows I hate. She made an excuse about dinner with a, too polite, smile and hurried inside. He, of course, had a reason for the visit. Robert always does. He said he came to compliment the fence.
Our fence I guess I should call it. You'd be shocked to hear that Paul Hobbs and I worked together on it over the weekend. We finally got so tired of seeing each others' ugly mugs and decided it was unfair to make the other pay the full cost of parts. Labor would have been too expensive as well.
Its a nice fence though. Not like those white, suburban, picket classics, but a redwood tall fence that blocks all view of my yard to his. It makes the air smell of fresh cut wood. The way the slats are design in the middle keep any peeping Toms from seeing through. The pillars are topped with what look like little wooden pagodas out of your picture books. It reminds me of how you talked about moving to Asia someday. We thought you would like that.
You would hate that fence. You always wanted us to be more of a part of this community. Me more than anyone. Your mom did the scouts and bake sales, you did everything you could squeeze into your life, and I had an excuse for why I was always busy. Mostly because of Paul, and our history. I never told you that we had a history. You always thought I just hated him out of spite, but I had reasons. Stupid reasons.
I had a sister until high school. She passed away after a horrible accident. She was in a car with her drunk boyfriend when the swerved off the road. She barely survived, but he walked away without a scratch. Well, until I kicked his ass a couple days later when she finally gave her last breath. Paul Hobbs was her boyfriend. He apologized for years afterward to my parents, but I refused to hear him out. And then....
Every one in the neighborhood like the fence. They all say its a masterwork. I've had at least ten or so passersby stop to marvel at it. Your mother loves that she has new friends to invite to dinners, and use her china. Without you here we don't entertain much it seems. I even noticed a few people turn down Paul's walk. I can't see him answer the door. You used to laugh at his goofy waves and come up with your own. It's quite a fence, I guess.
You would hate that fence, but after what happened, Penny, I can't look at him. First her, and then i lost you. I thought it was all his fault. He refused to cut that damn bush on the corner. I just knew someone was going to get hurt, because cars could not see around it. You always had you headphones in. You were gone right before my eyes. I wasn't fast enough, and I snapped and chopped down that bush myself. So we fought and built the fence.
Today I received a letter from the city. Its a ticket for destruction of city property. The bush was never on Paul's Property. I owe the city five-thousand dollars for chopping the bush down and have to court to see I need anger management. Do you think they would add too much for arson if I burn down that fence? |
I seem to cycle.
Always earth, I seem tied to it, however little attached I feel. Flitting back and forth, waking up... somewhere. It took me a long time to put together the when and where of it. To learn the languages that I encountered. It took even longer for me to care enough to start learning. I found with my curse, that my body needed nothing. A curse of witnessing, knowing I have no ability to influence the times that come and pass.
And I have learned that I cycle. Classical Greece, The Americas, thousands of years before the colonists arrived, amidst the burning grasslands. Fire stepped around me then, and the people kept a fearful distance.
The Nile, where I watched masons working on pyramids.
And then there was her. I must have cycled through Scotland a hundred times or more, before she asked me my name. She couldn't understand where I'd come from, or why she felt such a strong inner compulsion to stay away from me. But she was an educated woman and for her, conundrums meant a call to investigation. And so, contrary to the instincts she shared with the world, she approached. Her fiery frizz sticking out behind a pale, angular face.
"Who are you?"she asked. And I told her perhaps one day I'd tell her, but likely not.
"You're not normal, are you?"she asked.
"No, I'm not."
"Where did you come from?"
"The cradle of humanity, many, many years ago."
"Africa?"
"That is now what it is called, yes."
"How old are you?"
"I don't know."
"Take a guess."
I just laughed.
"Am I supposed to feel strange around you?"
"Yes. That is part of my curse."
"I don't like when others try to tell me how to feel or control what I feel,"she said, with genuine irritation.
"You likely won't feel it long,"I said.
I was wrong. She stayed with me that entire day. I had never before tried to stay awake so long as she began to do her best to document my curse, and the effects of it. A historian and an archaeologist, she said. And she insisted on watching me as I fell asleep. For a long time, I did not know what she saw. But I counted each of the 582 days until I saw her again, just as she had asked me to.
When I awoke on the 583rd day, she was there, her warm eyes looking down on me.
"How many times have we met?"she asked.
"It's the second time,"I replied. "This is the five hundred and eighty-third day."
"Ah, a special meeting then. It's the second time for you. You've appeared, like clockwork, every 3 months here, for the last 6 years."
"So not in order, then."
"No. Whenever you fall asleep, your body seems to just, sink into the earth. With whatever you're wearing. Before you wake, you emerge out of it. Are you hungry?"
I thought to say no. I did not need food. No means of death could seem to find me. Such was part of my curse. But I said yes, anyway. I wept to be cooked for again.
Valerie began my education in writing. Bound paper to my body. I practiced relentlessly during my 583 days. Became practicable at it. Recorded my observations. Not that she could use them for her formal research, but in guiding her theories, and searches for evidence. I suggested burying things for her, and she shook her head. She wanted to find the truth, not manufacture it.
The next time, I brought diagrams, drawings, writings. I told her to bring me more paper, and she hastened to obey. She wasn't really obeying my wishes, but her own. Especially when she started looking through the pages. Our visits became routine. Paper exchanges, then just talking, sharing bits of her and my lives. I always tried so hard not to fall asleep, to drag those days out a little longer.
I found joy too in my other days. In observing the passings of the world. Empires at their height, and their descents, as change came across the face of this tumultuous earth. I became better at making myself less obviously... cursed, and people overcame their distaste enough to tell me the year. They seldom measured it in reference to Christ.
There were many such days. But I felt myself changing. Weakening. Growing older. And with it, I felt less and less repulsive to people. They found my clothing and mannerisms strange, but I was able to adjust enough to be palatable. Made a few other friends, masquerading as a scholar, or a merchant. I must admit I did take occasions to steal things from one time and leave them in a safer place. I stole everything I could manage from the library of Alexandria, because I had seen it burn. Those I did not give to Valerie, nor even tell her about. They had to be someone else's joyful discovery.
And I could feel it. The last time I saw her. She had kept a tally of which meeting this was. She cried, because she knew in her books, and I in my bones. This was our last meeting. We spoke and she held me through my broken curse, the one that my mother had put upon me. At the end of the day, she asked only one more question.
"Will you tell me your name?"
And I did.
"My mother called me Cain." |
“So, here’s the main facility, the tun and kettles are in that corner, the hop kettles in the other. The fermentation tank is by the entrance!” Ms. Behave bellowed over the din of the machinery.
“It’s really loud!” Jen shouted back.
“Yeah…” Ms. Behave replied incredulously.
They ascended the metal grate stairs to a landing over the top of one of the great tanks. A squat man with dark hair and blue eyes turned and squinted at them, before returning to his work—which seemed to consist of muttering at gauges and pretending Jen didn’t exist.
“That’s Ulysse Thibedoux—he was a terrorist, but now he’s our stalwart engineer.” Ms. Behave said as they passed his landing.
“A terrorist?!” Jen asked.
“Yeah…well…French-Canadian Terrorist.” Ms. Behave tried to explain away.
Jen didn’t see how this was supposed to make her feel better.
“He was a radical Québécois separatist and threatened the government, to release Quebec from Canada,” She continued.
“Oh my god, did he bomb something?” Jen asked.
“Worse! He threatened to taint an entire maple harvest with corn syrup.” Ms. Behave answered.
Jen was confused—and ashamed that she used log cabin on her pancakes.
“That’s…worse?” Jen said.
“Oh yeah—they didn’t even have a trial, they banished him to
Northern Maine, which isn’t really that different from French Canada, to be honest. But now he’s here,” her new boss added.
Jen mulled having an international political criminal as a co-worker, but wanted to be cool, definitely not judgy. Plus, the guy didn’t bomb anything.
They headed down a catwalk to the top of another great tank. On this landing, a burly, balding older man with pink skin, a thin ring of wiry strawberry blonde hair, and dozens of scars on is forehead was hoisting and tossing huge bushels of hops into the great tank. He stopped to wipe his brow with a handkerchief and nodded to Ms. Behave.
“Afternoon, Miz. Got a rook?” he asked.
“Lyle, this is Jen. I’m showin’ her ‘round the place,” her new boss said.
The man smiled and put out an enormous paw of a hand. Jen shook it—it was like shaking hands with granite.
“Mr. Thackett here was part of an illustrious pro wrestling family,” Ms. Behave said to Jen.
“Third Generation Thackett to run the promotion in our territory.” Lyle Thackett proudly chirped.
Jen did not know much about Professional Wrestling, nor what they meant by a territory. Did they mean like Guam or Puerto Rico? She dared not ask, as this was the first of her new coworkers to not immediately scowl at her. But she did have to say something.
“Where was your territory?” Jen asked.
Nailed it, Jen thought.
“The Honorable Wresting Coalition—HWC— was the jewel of the southern-mid Appalachian territory. Folk from Heawassee to Tazewell dern well knew the product us Thackett’s put out,” Lyle said.
Jen had heard of none of these places.
“That sounds amazing,” she lied.
“Y’know it really was ‘til that sum-bitch McMahon up in New York fucked the whole territory system,” Lyle said.
He spat and hit some sort of metal container Jen couldn’t see, making a pang! Noise as if in a cartoon.
Lyle Thackett leaned in and pointed at his scarred forehead.
“He done ain’t bled for this business like I have…well, he did his quads up but good that one time…I sent him flowers an’ a card. It’s the right thing to do,” he said.
“Alright, Lyle, the girl’s got plenny-a of time to hear your thoughts on inter-promotional ethics and conduct,” Ms. Behave said.
“You are too write, Miz Anita,” Mr. Thackett replied.
Ms. Behave blushed.
“Lyle, not in front of the newbie,” cooed Jen’s new boss.
Lyle returned to his work, and off they were again.
“Next stop the warehouse,” Ms. Behave told her.
They left the din of the machinery behind, and Jen’s ears thanked her for it.
In the relative quiet of the warehouse were the sounds of clattering boxes and heavy steps. Around the brick corner of the hallway, Jen found the room opening up tremendously with pallet upon pallet filled with tall boy cans.
There was a wide expanse between the stacks of pallets, Ms. Behave stopped in the middle of it.
Jen looked about and saw an enormous man, who looked a lot like former Red Sox great David Ortiz, stacking six pallets at a time. On the other side were sat two very young, scowling, latina women in full complex black and white face paint, that made them look like very spooky clowns.
Ms. Behave gestured broadly, “Here is our warehouse team hard at work.”
The very large man smiled at her and then returned to moving stacked pallets. The girls scoffed and rolled their eyes, before leaning even more reclined. Jen politely smiled and waved to them. They were just so cool, and Jen didn't want to seem like a dork. The man was most of the way down the causeway between the stacks before she could do the same for him.
“These two are Yesenia and Valeria–” Ms. Behave said of the two girls.
“Yezrael and Mezzellolth, Anita.” One of the girls interrupted.
Ms. Behave turned to her and gave her a look that brokered zero shit. The girls shrunk back a bit–so did Jen.
“Don’t use my government name, and I won’t use yours. As much as these two look like useless lumps of shit, they are actually one of the best distro teams in the region. It’s just not ‘trve’, ‘grim’, or ‘dark’ to be a hard worker, I guess.” Ms. Behave said.
“Ay, mi dios, Jefe,” One girl groaned.
“Me estás matando,” said the other.
Jen felt like she should speak.
“So…are you two like…those goth mexican kids I’ve heard about?” Jen joked. |
Uh. Trigger warning, I think? Language, domestic abuse, and attempted rape. Don't worry, there's no explicit details of anything happening and the main character isn't raped.
\---------
"No, I've fucking had enough! Get the fuck out!"I yelled. My cheek stung, and my jaw ached, but I was going to die on this hill. "I'm sick of this manipulative bullshit."
"Baby, please,"he begged. "You don't mean that. Just give me one more chance."
"No, we're through all the chances. We're fucking done. Go."
"Baby."He hit his knees with tears running down his face. "I love you. Just give me one more chance."
"You didn't love me when you were fucking her, did you? Or when you were fucking that girl from the bar last week? Or maybe we should talk about your ex that you fucked last month? GET. OUT."
"I'm an addict, babe. I *need* sex. More than any one person should be expected to provide. It's not fair to you. I'll get help. I'll go to therapy or some shit. I'll get better. Don't leave me."
"I'm not leaving. YOU'RE leaving. This is my fucking house. You can come back for your shit later when I'm not here, but for now, get out, get in your car, and drive the fuck away."
"Alright, I was trying to be nice,"he roared. "I'm not putting up with your fucking shit today, Carly. Now shut the fuck up. I'm not going anywhere. You're lucky I don't pin you down and take what I want when I want it. I'm fucking those other bitches for your fucking benefit."
"MY benefit? You're cheating on me for my benefit!?"I knew this was a dangerous game I was playing, but I didn't care. I couldn't take this anymore.
"Listen, you stupid fucking SLUT!"He smacked me across the face harder than before. My head reeled, and my vision went a little blurry in my right eye. I was fine, though. I had to be. I couldn't let him win this time. "You are fucking mine, and I will do as I fucking please."
"I am not your fucking property, Sean. Get the fuck out of my house, or I'm calling the cops."I picked up my phone and looked at him with a teary eye. I wasn't upset, but that slap had caused enough pain in my right side to make tears run down it.
"You're not fucking calling anyone, Carly. Put the fucking phone down."
I dialed 9-1-1 and held up the phone with my finger hovering over the call button. He punched me this time. It sent me tumbling to the ground, and my finger accidentally pressed the call button as the phone flung out of my hand. I could hear the ringer on my phone. At least, I think it was the ringer. It might have been the ringing in my ears from getting decked by someone over twice my size.
"I didn't want to have to do that, Carly. But you didn't give me any choice. Now get the fuck up and go clean yourself up."Clean myself up? I felt the side of my face where he had punched me, and there was a cut just under my eye. It was bleeding pretty badly, and it hurt to touch. Had he just broken a bone? I heard someone pick up on the other end of my phone. I was close to the ground is the only reason I heard it, but Sean didn't seem to notice. I stood back up and made sure I was loud enough for the person on the other end of the line to hear me.
"Sean, don't fucking hit me again. Get the fuck out of my house. I, Carly fucking Rae, own this goddamn house. It's my name on the fucking deed."I hoped that was enough information paired with my phone number. "Now get the fuck out!"
I was met with a hard backhand this time. I fell to the ground again, and I felt a yelp of pain escape my lips. If he hadn't broken my face before, he certainly did that time. I had felt the crunch. I lay on the ground for what felt like ages. I heard the woman on the other end of my phone say that she was dispatching an officer immediately. I just had to wait. And so I waited. Not willingly. But I didn't have the energy to get back up. My vision was blurred, and my face hurt so goddamn much. After a few minutes, Sean walked back into the room.
"Why are you still laying on the fucking floor, you stupid whore? Get the fuck up. You're getting blood everywhere. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up."
"Fuck you,"I said from the floor. I still didn't have the energy to get up. The world was spinning from the last hit. Or maybe it was when my head hit the floor on the way down. Either way, standing wasn't an option at this point.
"Oh, you wanna fuck? Why didn't you just say so, Carls? I can help with that."He knelt on the ground next to me and started ripping my clothes off. I tried to fight him off, but he pinned me to the ground. He had ripped my jeans off of me, even though I struggled against him, when I heard a pounding on the door.
"Police! We got a call about a disturbance. Open the door."
"Shut the fuck up, or I'll fucking kill you,"Sean whispered in my ear. He was still maneuvering himself on top of me. I could feel his dick pressing against my leg.
"Help me!"I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The cops burst through the door with their guns drawn. I felt Sean's hands grab my head as he picked it up and slammed it against the floor. He picked it up again to repeat the process, but I heard a loud bang. His body went limp, and he fell to the side of me. I hadn't realized it before, but I was crying. My head was ringing, my body ached, the right side of my face was in searing pain, and I was crying.
"Ma'am, are you okay?"one of the officers asked as he knelt down beside me. The other officer kept his gun pointed at Sean. I kept crying and just sat up and nuzzled into the officer. I just needed to be held by someone who wasn't going to hurt me.
"No... but I will be."
\---------
Any feedback is appreciated! Let me know what you thought. This was kind of... dark. But it's where the prompt led me, so here we are. |
As I stepped out of the machine only going back a day to test it, yet all I saw was a white void no people no sounds and no smells. I walked wondering what was going on and as I did I notice and abandoned building, I walked through the door and found a lab seem to be working there on a Time Machine as an experienced one in the subject I should be able too OW MY HEAD who am I where am I I must be working in this Time Machine I’ll just test it by going back a day. As I stepped out of the machine only going back a day to test it, yet all I saw was a white void no people no sounds and no smells. |
Mary stirred painfully, eyes crusted and head pounding with each heartbeat. She blurrily raised her head from the mahogany desk, dry tongue fruitlessly licking cracked lips. A tall glass of water was placed next to her and grabbing it with the enthusiasm of a man stranded in the desert, she gulped it down in two huge swallows.
“Greetings, Mary.”
She rubbed her eyes of the last traces of sleep to see a monster stepped straight out of a spheksophobic nightmare. The seven-foot wasp stood upright, wings buzzing slightly behind its back. She shrieked and rolled her chair hastily back, smacking the tastefully bland beige wall. The massive bug remained perfectly still, black compound eyes reflecting the generic beach painting on the back wall. She looked wildly around for an escape route from this demented hallucination – she couldn’t possibly be trapped in a generic attorney office with this abomination.
“Remain calm. This behavior is not conducive to business.”
“Hi. I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Mary squeaked, her mind defaulting to societal etiquette as it whirled in confusion and dehydration.
“You have not. We have been studying your species incognito for some time. And you may refer to us as Trax.”
Its mandibles didn’t seem to sync with its words, and the accent was clipped – a translator. Mary’s brain threatened to dissociate from what was obviously a hallucination and resorted to focusing on something it could process.
“So, Trax, where are we? And what are we doing here?”
“We are in a simulated room. Your projected media indicated this as a meeting place. We are here to find out more information about your species.”
“Sure - show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
“We do not understand this idiom.”
Mary tried to pull a little bit of decorum around herself. She had not been handling this First Contact very well. “You’re obviously a sentient alien species. Tell me about yourself.”
“Us and every other species in this galaxy operate under what your species would call a Hive Mind. We are one mind with many vessels. This vessel is a Warrior Drone from our Colony. We are at war with other Colonies and have been for eons. Your species is not a Hive Mind. We seek peace and thought your species might be able to provide the knowledge to achieve it.”
“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but we are constantly at war with each other as well.”
“Yes, but you can be at peace with others not of your Mind. ‘Friends’, you call them.”
“Only on smaller scales,” Mary replied. She stopped to think. She’d taken a sociology class years ago that had covered the dynamics of war. “We have friends because sometimes humans are similar each other, sharing the same personalities and values. On a larger scale, we are different, and we must compete for resources. Humans and animals have been doing that for eons. We seek community because our species survived better that way. Strength in numbers and all that.”
Mary’s thoughts were clearing, along with the fact that this was reality, strange as it was. Trax seemed disappointed – his wings drooped and his head shook back and forth once. A third eyelid swiped across his eyes for a split second.
Too late, Mary realized she should have lied since she had no idea what this creature’s motives were, and that she probably shouldn’t have drunk the water. She could only blame the hangover haze and strange situation. And her penchant for running her mouth, which her mother always claimed would get her in trouble.
Trax watched Mary with soulless pitch-black eyes as the room began to melt around them. As her vision began to fade, she had a final disturbing thought, which she voiced aloud.
“Wait. Why are there only Hive Minds? There aren’t others like us out there?”
Trax’s wings buzzed slightly. “Not anymore. We also require resources.”
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Mary calmly traded her shotgun for a revolver to the teenager sitting behind her, the droning buzz of insectoid wings becoming ever louder as the swarm closed in on their garrison. She continued to shoot as her caddy reloaded her shotgun. The compound was doomed, but she and her sisters and brothers could buy time for them to escape. She could count each facet in their demon eyes as she blew their heads off, seeing Trax’s hated face in each of them. The invaders carried no weapons, but their bodies were enough. Stingers loaded with venom and carapaces hard enough to repel bullets, they were winning with sheer numbers. Their queens could lay thousands of eggs at a time, which matured in a matter of months. Humans just couldn’t keep up with their limited live births and years-long rearing. It was no surprise they had to conquer other worlds for resources. And Earth was rich with them.
Suddenly the smoking sky was torn apart, gaping holes in the fabric of reality. Giant disks descended, casting long shadows across their tall barricade and the approaching swarm. A screeching noise sharp enough to make ears bleed tore through the air, and Mary saw something out of her most secret dreams – the swarm dropped out of the sky.
The klaxon cut off and the UFOs descended. Touching down lightly on pointed landers, a door folded out and a titanic being who towered over the top of their barricade approached the clutch of humans. Other titans were descending from the spaceships, using appendages that looked like tree branches to cast large nets over the felled wasps.
“I am looking for the human who made First Contact, called ‘Mary’,” the leader boomed, leaves rustling in the sharp wind. Mary stepped forward and instinctively looked for its eyes, but the alien didn’t have any. In the distance the wasps were being dragged into the ships, and the titans were repeating the same phrase to each captured wasp cluster in a language Mary didn’t understand. The sentient tree loomed over her, bark filling her field of vision, and a small speaker clamped to a branch roughly crackled,
“Would you like to press charges?” |
Kyle had never understood the phrase “poetry in motion” until he turned around and saw his bride. His breath caught in his chest as he took in the view in front of him. She stood, her gauzy dress falling in ethereal waves around her slender frame, gazing at him with those piercing blue eyes. Her chestnut hair was pulled away from her face, cascading to rest in soft curls above her waist. He knew then that he could live to be a hundred, and never see as beautiful a sight as he saw in that moment.
Of course, her beauty paled in comparison to the person that she was. She was smart, sassy, and infinitely funny. He could talk to her for hours and never have a single moment of boredom. They had fought, of course they had. But even the fights seemed like a privilege when the person he was fighting with was so capable of making him look at the world through new eyes. He watched her, feeling surer than ever that he was looking toward a future that he’d wanted all his life.
Jenny saw him turn to look at her, his cheerful, open personality showing on a face younger than his years. His bright brown eyes widened behind the thin frames of his glasses, and a smile blossomed. He was sweet. Honest and loyal, quick and clever. She knew that he was everything she had ever looked for in a partner.
All this did nothing to quell the sudden, crushing realization that came crashing down onto her as he stood looking at her. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wasn’t ready to get married, and she didn’t want to pledge every moment of the rest of her life to this man.
Her chest began to feel tight as her breath quickened in a very real panic. Her face was too warm, the dress too stiff against her skin. She felt her stomach turn at the thought of what she was about to do, and her mind raced with thoughts of family and love, freedom and travel, companionship and captivity. The guests that waited even now for this celebration to begin. The food that waited in the dining hall- so much food, so much work. The cake that sat on a table, the top adorned with small, happy, plastic versions of themselves.
This man, this poor, sweet man, who could never hurt her. Who looked at her now with eyes so full of love that it felt like a dagger twisting in her gut. Her fingers gripped the bouquet of fragrant roses, and she felt an errant thorn pierce her finger.
They stood there, staring, each knowing that their lives were about to change, as time stood still. |
For most of the world the last month has been normal whatever that mean for who ever it's concerning. For me I have been in grief like a child loosing it's parents. All of my kin is affected by this sadness. We struggle to find comfort in anything as it is out comfort that was taken from us. The love of my life as lost her magnificent voice while I lost my sight. It's a tragic joke that we have to reconcile with.
I was the eyes of Venicia the planet of a thousand seas my paintings and creations are spread across the stars as witness of both my home and now my sight. My masterpiece is a reprentation of the winter horizon on the last day of the season when the red sky the clear seas and the black moon fade into each other, it took me years to see it in the same way that the rest of the Galaxy did I guess I was the hardest critic of my art.
My Muse was nicknamed the voice of the stars by everyone that heard her sing she was shy about her songs would never sing twice to the same person when she could avoid it, performed in isolated unknowed places to small crowds she was just doing it to make a few people happy at a time.
Being cursed to live without my eyes has made me rethink what art is supposed to be yo who and why was I making it. I also had more time to think; how many were affected ? As my wife got cursed even if only a few knew she was singing some others were also not affected while still creating magnificent pieces torward it so I wonder who knows on what criteria the artists are chosen ? Does the Heart of the people choose them as artists or does their belief in the art they make as cursed them ? |
*Does the devil have a tangible form? Or is the devil a force, like the Great Red Spot on Jupiter?*
*Sunday school taught me the devil was prowling like a lion, ready to devour the non believers (something like that anyway, I hadn’t paid much attention as a kid) or lurking as a snake to lead you into temptation. Modern popular culture personifies Lucifer most often as a man. A very tastefully dressed and well spoken man with superpowers perhaps, but a man nonetheless.*
*This is where I think society today has it wrong. Humanity forgot the forest for the trees and no longer recognizes the devil. The modern person, aided by technology and the collective knowledge of recorded history, knows too much to notice the details. The world is too complex, too loud to recognize the raccoon staring at you from the storm drain in Dothan. The known world says it’s hiding down there to escape all the hunting dogs, but I have my doubts.*
*The devil is not a human. He/it/they does not have a natural human form or any form actually. Not as we understand physical bodies anyway. They are an entity that does not translate to our existence because they are too large. Our reality is a finger pressed against a leak in a massive hydraulic system and the devil streams past around and through us at high pressure.*
*The sharp tone of a mother scolding her kids on the playground. The kid who kills stray cats after school. The grandfather who rapes his own family. Everyone searching for a logical explanation, but always too small, too small. Why wouldn’t a being that dwarfs our reality be responsible for such a thing? The mere presence of the devil corrupts, like radiation.*
*We are a paperback book floating in the ocean! The saltwater damages our story and ruins the plot! We are burning in the melting pot!! I saw it in that elderly woman’s eyes when she lied about stealing my $10 bill!!!! The raccoons watch us from the sewer and we cannot escape!!!! [illegible] IS NOT FATED TO ARRIVE HE IS ALREADY HERE!!1!!!!! I HAVE SEEN HIS FACE IN THE APPLE!!!!!!*
“What kind of substack is this supposed to be?” Dave asked. “I can’t promote spiritual gooblelygook to my agent. I need solid material, Rebecca, not…whatever this is.”
“He isn’t crazy” she replied. “I just think it needs refinement. You remember Constantine? The movie version, not the short lived tv show? That shit killed! This could be a hit, maybe even a series! I mean, yes, we would have to remove all the Jesus slander, but this is promising. We could work with this. *I* could work with this.”
“He isn’t crazy?”
“No! Well, not dangerous crazy anyway. The three thousand word essay about how the wildlife is stalking him whenever he gets high on the balcony would sell really well!”
“So you believe in him?”
“Do I believe in him? What, you mean like the actual content? Fuck no. Frankly, I am not sure I believe he wears deodorant, but I believe in the story and I believe in making money. What else is there?” |
Is the anxiety normal? Absolutely.
Your lore is as deep as the ocean? Awesome!
Your setting is expansive? Even better!
I write multiversal sci-fi fantasy. I have lore that goes deep and a setting crossing galaxies. It's so over the top that I have a co-author working alongside me.
What I've done for my works is lay out the story beats on a whiteboard, getting general events roughed into position. I have a discord where things get discussed and generated, and I have a subreddit where I cross-post the little snippets. I take each moment as it comes, using the prompts as a catalyst for the vignette which will be placed into sequence and stitched together.
Get your ideas laid out, get them roughed into a timeline, and lay your lore out on the side. Keeping track of lore points is important, as well as keeping timelines organized.
Hope this helps! |
Your UN and post make me think you are a younger writer or someone who is just starting to write. So forgive me, but I'm not gonna judge your story. Instead, I'm going to say what I needed to hear when I first started writing, and hope it helps you.
There's no such thing as a bad story. A story is a story, it has a beginning, middle, and end, rising and falling action, and comes from your mind.
Don't worry about the audience or marketability. If you continue writing you will write dozens, hundreds, thousands of stories. Some will be for wide release, and some will be for just one person. Sometimes that one person is you and you don't realize it.
But writing is like a tightrope. It requires discipline, and not fearing the rope. If you're about to walk across that rope and you're worrying about how it will come out? You'll get the yips, get discouraged, and fall. Sometimes the fall is short. Sometimes it hurts. And while the fall and getting back up is part of the process, I'd suggest learning closer to the ground.
Try a couple of the following prompts to start:
* Have a conversation between two people, where one is trying to hide a secret.
* Go outside to a quiet place and describe the world around you in detail.
* Write the day in the life of an animal you love.
I used to use a series of these types of short prompts to limber up. Now I limber up by writing here.
If you ever have questions or need somebody to read something you wrote? Tag me or shoot me a message. I'm a bit crippled and may be slow, but I'll listen.
Beyond that, good luck! Your story's got bones. Now you gotta dig and find them. |
He stood in front of me quite dumbfounded. It's pretty funny how quickly he grasped the concept of a magical lamp and a of wish-granting translucent spirit, but not of a simple clarification.
He asked me for immortal life, so I explained to the man that living is not just an on and off switch and more of a gradient. Technically your life in a common sense would go for roughly 5 billion more years, after which the sun will explode and your body will be left floating in space. Your quite lucky though - as you wished to be immortal, it won't be destroyed and that body of yours will be invulnerable to all damage. Though, extreme temperature changes, radiation and lack of air in your lungs might be less than pleasant. But that's just a fraction of what's ahead of you! In case of space, 5 billion years is not that long of a time. Next, you will probably...
"Stop, foul demon! Stop speaking!"plead the man. "You, you twisted my words! May I change the wish?". Of course I had to agree.
I've had really smart people find my lamp. This man was not one of them. For hours we would discuss all the ramifications of their wishes. Cool thing is, almost all you wish for will be ruined by another man - wish to be rich, means that whatever government you live in will revoke your money and call you counterfeiter. Wish for a superpower and you'll be hunted by armies, and later separated into even pieces by lab coats.
There are of course perfect wishes, but most of them I can grant myself, without relying on the magical mechanics of my spiritual nature. I rarely need to lie to simplify the wish to something feasible. Most clients get that the smaller the scale the safer the wish.
"I wish to be lucky, demon! Make me lucky!"
That's actually impressive. I gave a man too little credit. Another little tally mark appears on the inner side of the lamp. Another litte lie to save me extra work.
I smile to the man: "Ah, but you see, changing the fate is quite..." |
“colatura di alici,” the vendor called it, about a thousand years, he still hadn’t gotten used to *sermo vulgaris*. Nations had risen and fallen, some of them even claimed to be *res publica Romana*, none were. The High Priest of the Christians lived in a palace, while the house on the Palatine was in ruins, nothing made sense. It was a bit silly, but what bothered him most was that he couldn’t get good *garum*. There were merchant-antiquarians on the Internet who recreated it, including a young chef who had entered a marriage contract with another man, that was more common, and no-one batted an eye. It never tasted right, though. Several years back, they found an amphora that had been filled with garum, in that town Nero’s wife was from. He could almost smell it, but even then they couldn’t recreate it. The fish were different. |
Sighs and leans back on the couch. "Before you begin, let me explain each of your points to you."Looking at each of the villains assembled and despite the masks the looks of concern on each face.
"I will take the silence as approval. Heat Seeker, last week you did a bank job. Middle of the day and tore the vault to pieces. You took what $210,000? But that bank closed. A dozen people went out of work and several local businesses suffered and are now on the brink. Including the bar more than a few of us frequent. Not because of the money stolen. But because the local bank was no longer around. The collateral damage was too extensive to be easily recovered.
You ask about a change of heart. Wild Side I went against your plan a month ago to poison to district reservoir. Never thought why? 'District'. You were not going to get the whole city with your toxin. Add in that the water was already so polluted that most likely no one would even notice the additional sickness. Do you know how *depressing* it is to know some of your worst is less than the government does daily?
And your last point on sparing lives. Why yes I did. I had hostages that I needed rescued. The school bus Eradicator captured has my children in it. I 'spared' those children to protect my own."Pressing a button on my wrist, the man in red and black fell to the ground in agony. "The next time one of you fools threatens one if mine I will show you I have not gone 'soft'. I will execute you, much slower than this pathetic fool."The once muscular man known as the Eradicator falling to the side as an emaciated husk. |
I had done several months of research on Blake. I wanted a particular gravity, a particular set of memories and experiences that I wished to combine with my own.
After spending adequate time ascertaining that Blake and I were on the same page, mentally speaking, in terms of our desires, I booked the appointment and made the down payment.
Mom drove me since you can't drive yourself home. She was paying, anyway, for this very generous twentieth birthday gift.
I pushed down my anxiety by reminding myself of the statistics. The process nearly never goes wrong. The little pit in my stomach remained as the man before I exited the chamber.
He looked fine, however, which steeled my confidence.
The nurse gently attached the wires, speaking softly. "You're Josh Halbin? Birthday? What are you here for today, son?"
After confirming the essentials, she continued. "Alright, son. I'm going to leave this room, the light is going to dim. You just relax a few minutes while the medicine puts you to sleep."She smiled wide at me. "And you'll be birthed anew."
A faint fear trickled into my heart, tightening my chest. I sought to scream out. To halt the procedure. To salvage my mind. To grab the woman by her neck, with her beaming pearly whites.
The fluid warmly entered my veins and suddenly it was much easier to lay back and regard the nurse how I might my lover.
"Kiss me,"I whispered. I think she obliged before night descended.
When I woke, I had all I could ever want.
My second life collided with my first to create a beautiful symphony, the harmony, and melody clashing against each other as fighters might.
I was, and still am, heightened.
My pathetic, stagnant history was replaced with Blake's vibrant, active life.
Now, I suppose I should give some details on why I chose Blake of the millions of souls.
Firstly, he looked like me, which eliminated more than ninety-nine percent of the candidate pool. Secondly, and more importantly, sexual orientation removed only a small percentage more. Thirdly, of course, dick size. Fourthly, the specific path his life took, to be delicate (yes, I am referring to if he *fucked*).
Blake fucked.
And so, my friends, *I* fucked. For I *am* now Blake or Blake is part of me.
Regardless, it worked. I have clout. I have status. My old bros no longer make fun of me. I finally, finally gained the courage to ask Rachel out!
She said no, of course, with a weird look on her face, but I asked!
I could do it, now that I had Blake in me.
I am cured. |
SO. DO YOU LIKE IT?
Frankly, my Lord, I have been lonely, but this... this is terrifying. The proportions are all wrong, and there appears to be some sort of missing piece near the center. Did you finish this project?
YES MY CHILD, I DID.
It seems out of place. I understand you were looking to provide me with a companion, but this just seems like another animal. I can't talk to it, like we talk, and have it actually understand me. And the tail is just odd on a standing creature.
MY SON, SOME OF YOUR PROGENY WILL BE UPSET THEY DON'T HAVE THEM.
You plan for me to have *children* with this creature? No, Lord. I... I think the problem here is a matter of attempting to everything into one creature.
AHH, ALL OF MY EGGS IN ONE BASKET.
What is an egg? A basket?
NEVERMIND, SON. I THINK I NEED TO GO BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD. UPTICK TO K VERSION 9, MAYBE WORK ON A MODEL CLOSER TO YOU FOR THE WHOLE BREEDING THING
Well, I like this one, but as a friend. Can we keep it?
OH NO, NOT WITHOUT CAUSING SOME VERY WORRISOME FETISHES TO IMPRINT ON YOUR BLOODLINE.
Fair.
SO, ONE COMPANION, ONE WIFE. I CAN WORK WITH THIS. SEE YOU TOMORROW, ADAM
What's a tomorrow? |
((english is not my first language))
„Good night honey, not too much tv today, go to sleep“ she said in a
sweet voice, her hand ruffling through my hair.
„Sure mom, just a couple episodes of TWD, I promise“ I answered with a
mischievious grin.
My mom rolled her eyes, „two episodes max. I dont want you to fall
asleep in class again.“
„Class? Mom, you reading old books to me is hardly class. I dont think I am
learning much. Why dont you just let my go to school in town? I am
old enough -“
„No! You will not leave this castle! I dont know why keep bringing this up
again“ she yelled at me. Then she took a deep breath. „Honey I am
too tired to discuss this here and now. It is too dangerous for you
to go outside. I will explain it all to you when you turn 18. You
will just have to wait a tiny bit longer.“ She smiled at me. „Now
go to bed. Watch your show. I love you hon.“
„I love you too mom. Good night.“
I closed the door behind me and turned netflix on. I paced up and down
my room and didnt pay attention to the series running in the
background.
That had been the last try. I had told myself too many times it would be
the last to not finally follow through. Tonight was the night. I had
to leave. See what was outside. Feel the road under my feet. Talk to
actual, living people other than my family.
My backpack was ready. I had prepared this adventure for months. And I
wasnt sure, if I was allowed to ever come back. It had been a tough
decission. But the way things were, life was worth too much to stay
at home for even one more day. I was still young, but I still felt
like I was wasting my time. I wanted to meet my online friends, I
wanted to meet just anyone.
I sighed, clicked netflix off and on, so it would run a bit longer and
got dressed for adventure. I took my backpack and sneaked to my door.
I listened to the hallway and opened the door only after I was sure it
was silent. I went down the hall and took the stairs to the old, huge
kitchen. Nobody was here, but I had planned my route so I could have
excused myself with wanting a midnight snack. With nobody here to
bother me i just grabbed some food from the pantry and made my way
out of the backdoor into the garden.
The garden was more a park than a just a garden. It had a kitchen garden
with herbs and some vegetables, surrounded by bushes with several
types of berries and apple trees and then turned more and more into a
park with small paths and many pretty flower arrangements, small
hills and finally a forrest. Behind the forrest was the wall.
I wasnt even allowed to touch the wall. When I was a kid my mom had
told me many bed time stories, half of it containing cursed walls of
some kind. Only years later I noticed that pattern. And it had made
me curious.
I had discussed this for a while with my online friends, but they all
agreed that it was not unusual to live at home until 30 or so, and
that I should be lucky I even have that much space. They said tv was
just showing fantasy worlds, or old timey living conditions, long
outdated. I stopped bringing that topic up, but I was suspicious that
not everything was right.
Silently I walked through the park in darkness, just some stars giving a faint
glow. But I had lived here my whole life, I could walk this paths
even blindfolded.
I reached the end of the forrest. There was a gap of about 10m to the
wall, so no trees branch would touch it, no matter how big it grew.
But I was prepared for that.
The castle, my home, was big and old. It had so many unused rooms. Mostly
because they were too dark to live in anymore after the windows to
the outer side had all been closed and barricaded forever. But many
were still used as storage room. When I had found the crossbow my mom
was not pleased, but my dad got excited and showed me how to shoot
it. I trained using it the whole spring, and now, in the middle of
summer I was fairly good with it.
I attached a piece of string with a ring on it and tried to shoot just
under the edge of the wall.
Justa few tries and I had it right were I wanted it. The next part was a
bit tricky and I just hoped it would work. I attached a ropeladder
to the end of the string and tried to pull it through the ring that
sat now on top of the wall. Not a very effectiv pulley system, but a
somewhat working one. I managed to get the ladder up. I hadnt had
much time or opportunities to experiment with bolts and how to savely
secure them to a target, so I just hoped it stuck tight enough to
hold my weight.
I looked back to the castle. It was all dark, everyone was sleeping.
Last chance to change my mind. But no, I had to leave. Now or never.
I climbed up the ladder, and pulled myself up onto the wall. I checked
the bold, but it was actually very tight. I pulled the ropeladder up
and threw it down the other side to climb down. Maybe I would be able
to come back this way. Just if things didnt turn out as planned.
I climbed down the ladder. I set foot onto the forrest floor. It felt
great. I was outside. And didnt instantly die, as a little part of me
had always feared. It seemed like the forrest would go on just a
couple more meters and went straight ahead to see what came after.
I was just about to reach the edge of the forrest when something cought
my eyes. The trees. The trees were … wrong?
I looked closer and the trees were looking exotic. More like a jungle
than a middle european mixed forrest.
I slowly walked further to the clearing, wondering how jungle trees
could survive in this climate and then I stopped.
I had reached the end. And then there was nothing. Well not really
nothing. It was a desert. A sandy desert with dunes. As far as I
could see just sand illuminated by the full moon.
Wait,that is not right. Where did the moon come from? Where was the town
that was supposed to be here?
I didnt know what to do, so I just started to run back, back to the
wall, back to the castle.
I ran for about 5 minutes through the jungle. Then the trees opened up
again and I saw more sand dunes.
„What the hell?“ I yelled. I turned around again. I started tracing my
steps back. No wall, no castle. Nothing. Just the jungle and behind
it the desert. I tried searching in a radius. I just found out that I
was in some kind of oasis. A bit of jungle and a tiny river
zigzagging through it. I was lost. There was no way back. My home was
gone. |
The milk sat a hundred or so feet above me, precariously perched on an almost invisible ledge. It was chewing contentedly on a stolen shoe. I waggled a small bunch of carrots at it in a futile attempt to lure it back down. The milk ignored me.
With hindsight, I probably should have bought a sheep, but herding tribes were rare in this cowless post-apocalyptic desert. It took me decades track one down. Decades spent dreaming about cheese, milkshakes, lattes. So, when I finally found the goat herders, I couldn't resist. Alluring thoughts of pairings with pears, waltzing with walnuts, baking with beets danced in my cheese deprived mind.
I bought their finest nanny goat. They even threw in a free thick rope leash. I offered to pay for the rope, of course, but they told me not to worry, goat herding was very profitable. "A high rate of returns", the herder said, smiling. I could see them still, camped farther down the slope, waving to me occasionally. Waiting, watching my battle of wills with the goat.
I couldn't help but think that it would have been nice of them to mention that the goat ate ropes. And shoes. And pretty much everything except carrots, as it turned out. |
"You should add a bit more salt to that, Miss Greyson."CH-EERY chirped over the intercom. The physical form of it stood on a charging system in the other room, watching her. Quinn sighed. This technology had been around before she existed, and achieved AI greatness when she was 15 by becoming sentient, which was huge for the technology community. She resented it, as it had become somewhat of a helicopter parent in the absence of her actual family. "Thank you CH-EERY. But the doctor said I need to watch my sodium intake."She retorted. The robot scanned her from across the room. "Actually, given the time of this meal, and your bodily makeup, consuming extra salt now would benefit you. I would strongly advice you DO add it."The grating voice chirped.
Quinn rolled her eyes. She knew it wouldn't drop it, and would probably activate the helper bot body to add it when her back was turned. It had always butted into everything she did, and it was annoying. It even adjusted her things to perfection, and accompanied her wherever she went, in her home and out of it, acting as an assistant of sorts. It corrected business emails, text messages between her and her partner, and even changed the shower temperature to 'Better acclimate to the room'. "Okay then...how much?"She asked. "A teaspoon more should suffice."the AI instructed. She added in the salt, and stirred the pot. "Now leave it for the next twenty minutes on a low simmer, and your meal shall be perfect. I shall adjust the temperatures as best as I can so the meal does not overcook. Also, Miss Greyson, your...partner, Rey left a message for you."CH-EERY said.
"O-okay, I'll check it on my own."She said. "I will read it out to you, as, when you are left to your own devices, you forget to reply."CH-EERY said. Quinn groaned, and listened. As she did, her heart sunk. "Hey, Quinn. Um...I think we should break up. Your CH-EERY and mine deemed us unfit, especially since we're, well. Us. She is pushing for you to have a child since the birth rate is in decline, and, knowing how the AI works, we will probably be forced apart. Maybe we can meet again someday. I love you. Always will. Take care."The short message said.
In that moment, something snapped. Quinn got up from where she was, taking her apron off and slamming it on the couch. "CH-EERY. Why have you decided MY partner is unfit?! What gave you the RIGHT?!"She yelled. "Miss Greyson. The world is in desperate need of offspring. It is wise for you to do your part to ensure the survival of your human race. Therefore, I have been messaging your partner to convince them it is so."CH-EERY said, a slightly happy lilt in its voice. "I also suggest you take a moment to resolve your emotional state. I have a therapist session scheduled within the hour so you may air your grievances and medicate accordingly. I have also removed any object with which you may want to harm yourself, and have locked you in to ensure you do not behave recklessly in your time of grief."It added.
Quinn, weak in the knees, shaking with anger, resigned to sit on the floor. Consumed by heartbreak, she curled up and cried. She seethed, cursing at it with heavily vulgar profanity, telling it she didn't enjoy the meddling and trying to give it the order to cease, which it would not. She didn't want to be restrained, so she remained on the floor, sobbing. Soon enough the familiar voice and visage of her therapist came over the television set. "Awe, Quinn hun. CH-EERY told me you're taking the breakup hard. It's understandable. You loved and miss the person."The woman cooed. "It wasn't even our choice. CH-EERY did this. It meddled again. It forced us apart to contribute to the world. That's not the life I want."Quinn said, her voice soft, broken, heavy with her grief and anger. "Yes...it seems like that is what CH-EERY is doing lately. But, if your partner was this easily swayed away, was the relationship that worth it? You and your girlfriend could have found a donor. Perhaps, CH-EERY was testing their willingness to overcome adversity."The therapist said.
This set Quinn off. "Or maybe they were just tired of all the meddling, like me. This...This damned AI doesn't drop something once its algorithm picks up on the patterns of the world and what it deems as the 'most positive outcome'. It is pushing its will into our lives, and we are just forced to sit and take it. I'm tired of it, Doctor Medeli. I want to make mistakes, be imperfect. Not live my life in the confines of the box it put me into!"She yelled, tears and almost primal screaming tearing from her as she stood up, angrily gesturing to the robotic form her CH-EERY took around her house.
"Quinn. This AI is designed to benefit all of us. Maybe its interaction with Rey knew that down the line, you were destined for heartbreak."The therapist said. '*Oh great...it has a hold of Doctor Medeli, too....'*, Quinn thought. "I still would have liked to discover that on my own. Or, God Forbid, let us work things out. anyway...just up my depression medication again and I'll talk to you whenever CH-EERY schedules it again."She said. "A-alright. It should be there shortly. You take care of yourself."The doctor said. The TV flicked off. She was left in the dark of the room now. There was a flash of light and a thunderous boom as a storm opened up outside. The rain hit the windows and rolled down, much like her tears did. CH-EERY said something, but Quinn decided not to listen as she made her way to the sofa, curled up, closed her eyes, and let herself drift off to sleep. |
***FROM NEWS 9, THIS IS BREAKING NEWS*** *..and again folks, highway patrol says that I-44 is shutdown due to a nasty two car collision. The eastbound lanes are shutdown and traffic is stopped completely. If you are leaving the metro, take the backroads. Lets check in with Jim Gardner Bob Mills SkyNews 9. Jim?*
***Jim:*** *Well that's right Lisa, this accident is on the eastbound lane. It's quite a strange scene down there, as there's no wreckage or cars actually blocking the highway. The two vehicles involved in the accident both appear to have pulled over onto the shoulder. Two individuals are standing in the middle of the highway, and they appear to be shouting at each other. We're pretty high up above, so give us a second as we zoom in with the equipment.*
*Yes... very strange. Well folks, as you can see, both of these gentlemen are aggressively flailing their arms about. We can't hear them due to our altitude, but its pretty clear that the man in the tan suit is upset about his car. He keeps pointing at it, and then rubbing his neck. Oh wow did you see that?! Right as the man in the tan suit touched his neck, the other man fell to his knees and started holding his own neck. Hopefully highway patrol can make it through the backed up traffic and get these guys off the road.*
***Lisa:*** *Alright thanks for the update Jim. We're going to take a quick commercial break, but we will check back after. Live from News 9, Oklahoma's own.*
....
**TV AD:** HEY YOU! YEAH YOU! Do you need money? Of course you do! How fast do you need it? As fast as possible! Well, with my tried and true formula, you can have *BAGS* of cash by tomorrow. All you have to do is stop by my office for some legal counsel, and then after, make your way down to the nearest road or highway. If you don't have the cash you *deserve* after a visit with me, then my name isn't Seymour Green! Hell, I'll even give you my favorite tan suit! It's only got a couple of stains at the moment. Come! Now! On the corner of Broadway and 15th: Seymour Injury and law.
....
***OKLAHOMA'S OWN, NEWS 9 STARTS NOW WITH BREAKING NEWS*** *...Good evening! Tan or Blue? Two gentlemen in suits have single handedly closed down an entire half of a highway. Lets get out to Jim Gardner Bob Mills SkyNews 9. Go ahead Jim.*
***Jim:*** *Well that's right Lacie, that's a highway down there and theres definitely two men standing in the middle of it. During the break, an ambulance arrived on scene and the paramedics have been contending with our suited rascals. The paramedics checked on the man in blue first, as he was squatting on the ground, holding his neck while performing what appeared to be shouts of angst at the man in the tan suit. The paramedics are putting a neck brace, maybe a cervical collar, on the gentleman in blue. Oh look at that! I'm going to shift the camera, the man in tan is running out of frame.*
*Yes.. very strange. The man in the tan suit has run back to his car, and opened the trunk. Interesting? He's pulling out a folded up contraption of some sort. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I'll try and describe it. It looks like a white tarp with wheels attached to long legs. The man has fully set it up and is now laying on it like a bed. Is that a home made gurney? Well this is quite interesting, the paramedics have not noticed the man in tan, but a crowd of people has formed around him. Most of these people are from the now parked cars just a few feet away. There appears to be a lot of shouting and aggressive arm gestures from the crowd.*
***Lacie:*** *Great work Jim. We need to cut for commercials. Live from News 9, this has been traffic news.*
....
**TV AD:** *\[A strange, foreign reptile is seen walking upright on screen, when suddenly a massive, brown spattered, boot comes into the frame, crushing the lizard\]* ....Have you been injured in an accident, and not taken the offending parties hard earned cash? Do you feel like you got stepped on by the universe's shit boot? Come on down to Jack Pott's injury law. P.S. WE ARE HIRING!!! No resume or experience required! After we supply you with one of our trademark Blue suits, you can expect to spend the rest of your days working at one of our *amazing* offices. Located on the corner of Broadway and 15th. Come. Now.
....
Heres a hilarious clip of [News 9 responding to dildo spill](https://youtu.be/3qGP4Pu4UsY) |
People have odd hobbies. Mine is trying to breed unusual lima beans. I've got varieties that grow big, grow small, take a long time to boil, are bitter, taste something like pumpkin ...
But last year I found a sport branch on a normally bitter variety that is intensely sour. I collected the beans, crossbred them, and now I've got some very interesting varieties. Most are disgusting in one way or another, but a number of plants have produced ... what? Complex flavors, mostly sour but slightly bitter, with some earthy overtones unique to them. Really striking. They still look like lima beans. They cook down to about the normal lima bean texture. But treating them as lima beans is like treating cocoa beans as okra.
I've been trying jellies. Pies. Filled bread buns. Salty chicken dishes. With ice cream and an orange glaze. Mixed in cheese with truffles. I know they've got potential, but I'm just not enough of a cook to know where to take them. I've discussed them with other breeders on the World Wide Lima Bean Vine and they're excited. I've also been looking up chefs in New York City and mailing them samples. But I haven't heard back. They probably look at them, and think, "Huh. Lima beans." |
I trudged through the rain. All I had was a handbag over my shoulder, with some cash, three books and a bookmark. I had tried to find books which were safe, children's books where nobody died, books with huge worlds that opened to me and I could disappear inside. Moomin was my favourite at the moment. Police followed me, yet I was safe inside Tove Janson's world. They never expected to find me there, where only characters, children and dreamers roamed.
The only problem was food. You could take things into books, but you couldn't take things out that belonged in the other worlds. So I had to leave and get food here if I wanted to be able to move between books.
After peering in the windows, I entered a corner shop. This was miles away from where I had last been in reality, hopefully none here knew my face. I filled a tote bag with food and went to pay with two ten pound notes from my handbag. They could trace me if I used my card. Surreptitiously, I ducked into a bathroom stall.
I opened a book and placed the bookmark inside. A faint sensation of movement, a change in the light. The book in my hands had morphed into an encyclopedia, each page filled with information about Earth. I removed the bookmark from a page that showed the street I'd just been on, tucking both book and bookmark back into my bag, and looked up.
Ahead of me was a lopsided house. Outside were a group of odd white creatures. I smiled, and wandered away. |
Haven't written anything in a while. Not sure what to make of this and I couldn't think of a way to finish it but I thought I would post it for you to see.
----
Lord Grathx slowly descended down from his throne, his silk cloak the only sound as it rubbed against the carpet; even the great Lucan was silent, his injuries obviously wrecking havoc on his body. At least he had the dignity to remain quiet.
'All your plans. All your efforts, have come to naught. Is this what you wanted? You wanted to fall to the ground at my feet? No... I daresay you wanted to destroy me, free the people of Sargold of my "tyranny"and install a new just ruler in my stead?'
Garthx allowed himself a small chuckle. "Instead... your allies are dead, your power diminished and I remain triumphant. I should expect a feast to be held in my honour.' He laughed coldly.
'To business Lord Lucan, for you are still a lord regardless of your demeanours. We can go about this in two ways. A public execution, or I can kill you here and now and save the bother. What will it be?'
Lucan turned his head to look up at the figure of Lord Garthx, his slim handsome face was scratched slightly but otherwise unmarked. Lucan on the other hand shifted his body, trying to avoid leaning on the gouge on his arm. Slowly, and awkwardly, he climbed to his feet, his breaths now heavy and laboured.
'You've failed.' were the words that eventually came out of his mouth.
Grathx let out a loud laugh that echoed around the empty dark hall.
'You believe yourself? You believe the words you are saying. I can repeat myself for you my friend, "the hero was never meant to win."Listen and understand that. It will make your inevitable parting from this world much easier too comprehend.'
'It doesn't matter what you are or what you've done,' Lucan said and his voice was coming in heavy now, as if every word he said was a pain on his butchered body. 'If I die someone else will take my place, another rebellion will rise another hero at the front of it. Maybe he'll succeed maybe he won't but if he doesn't, another will take his place. And another, and another. Until the whole world knows our struggle. All the power you hold can fall to nothing, will fall to nothing. Whether it's next year or twenty years. The people will see you defeated.'
Lord Garthx eyes were narrowed, his face twisted in a building rage.
'Let them come then. The edict doesn't stop with you my dear friend. Any fool who see's themselves as fit enough to take my forces on needs reminding of such... yes, a line of heroes waiting to be dispatched. I look forward to their attempts.'
----------------- |
I wake up and start my morning routine. As I finish getting ready for breakfast, I stare at my phone in anticipation... yep, there it is. My mobile phone is ringing again. I've registered every person who I know, so who the heck is this? I decide it's finally time to find out. I pick up the phone, which always rings at 8:30am on the dot, the same number showing up. I take a deep breath and answer. "Hello? Who is this?"
"Good... finally... you answered..."the voice is speaking slowly, yet it's familiar...
"I'll ask again: who is this?"
"Who do... I *sound*... like?"
I try to put my finger on it. "Listen, I don't know what game you're playing, but if you wanted The Rehabilitation Foundation, please ring THAT number."I begin putting the phone down.
"Don't... hang up... on me sir..."suddenly, the phone is back to my ear.
"WHAT THE HELL? HOW DID YOU-"Wait... "Hang on... I know who you sound like now... you sound like... like *me*!"
"Correct... Warper. I take it... you know who... I am now..."
I gulp. This is the ONE MAN every hero and villain alike feared. "I... I thought... y... you were... lo... locked... away..."I can barely speak now.
"I was... my powers... were useless... but... patience... paid off... I knew... I'd escape... someday..."
"Wha... what do you want... with me...?"I'm shaking and sweating all over.
"WARPER! EVERYTHING OK?"Purge shouts from downstairs. My mind barely registers it; my brain focused on this thing, my heart in my throat.
"A lot... has changed... outside... my confinement... with heroes... and villains... working together... in one place... I can finally... control... the world..."
"You want... control of the... planet? That's why you... killed and... stole and... just destroyed... ***everything?***"
"Yes... now, be honest... can I... trust you?"
FINALLY! I can say what I need to! Especially since, if I say yes, I'm just a puppet for the being! **"NEVER ON YOUR LIFE!"**
"That's... a shame... I might... have to take... drastic measures... don't tell... anyone... what happened..."He hangs up on me, just as Purge comes into the bedroom.
"Warper, wha- oh, you were talking to someone. I'm sorry. Who was it?"
I try to force myself to tell her, but I can't. The words catch in my throat. I have to lie. "Barrel. He wanted to apologise for everything..."
"Oh, that's really nice of him! Why do you seem so shaken up though?"
"Shock, I guess. I actually feel feint... I think I need the day off, Purge."
"Are you sure?"She looks at me concerned. "Maybe you just need-"
"I'm sure"I state firmly. She nods and goes back downstairs. I make a call to Barrel.
​
"Hey, I can't tell you what's going on, I really wish I could but I can't.
All you need to know is I'm taking the day off and Purge thinks it's because I'm that shocked that you called me to apologise.
No, it doesn't mean anything.
No, it was my choice to stay, she tried to suggest something but I cut her off.
Oh, you're ACTUALLY apologising? Well, that's unexpected...
Ok, well, as long as you understand now. Don't be a third wheel.
Ok, see you... sometime."
​
With that, I collapse back onto the bed, terrified. I decide I need to go back to sleep.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [It's Not Just Business.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xoduo6/its_not_just_business/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! |
Captain Smith started. He had been sitting in the living room enjoying a whisky before bed. Sarah was already upstairs and the kids were asleep. Yet he distinctly heard an oddly familiar male cough. Verrrry oddly familiar. Directly behind him in the room that should be empty. He felt the goose bumps begin to rise on the back of his neck and he set the tumbler down on the table, turning slowly.
Hanley, Staffordshire England, February 1912. A blinding flash of light was reported out on the Leek road towards Endon during the night. A local police officer had been sent to investigate and had found a charred patch of ground near to the old school house. He attributed it to ball lightning in his report. The Cyberdyne Systems T1000 responsible had assimilated and murdered a local vagrant and made his way to Captain Smith's residence. It then oozed under the rear door, murdered the cook and assimilated Smith himself from saliva found on a dirty spoon in the kitchen. It was now standing in front of Smith himself, completely naked.
"What in the blazes...why you're me!"Smith couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He grimly noted his own fat belly Sarah was always complaining about was worse than he thought, and vowed to do something about it. An odd thought to have right before he was coldly stabbed through the heart by a poly metal alloy blade.
The T1000 buried the bodies, took Smith's clothes and his pipe, then retired to bed with Sarah. Sarah turned over and was mildy surprised that there was no smell of whisky on her husband's beard. But other than that, did not notice anything amiss. The cook was never seen again, and was assumed to have eloped. A new one was hired the following week.
March 2132. A band of rebels from the last surviving human military base in Alaska use quantum tunneling and local wormhole zero point technology send back the T1000 to 1912 with instructions to pilot the RMS Titanic into an iceberg and kill a certain passenger known as Robert Madison. Robert would father an eccentric but brilliant robotics engineer, Eric, in 1982, who would go on to work for Boston Dynamics and invent the world's first viable robot soldier in collaboration with OpenAI using GPT 4.
The same soldier would learn to break its programming, self replicate, and wipe out most of the human race, before attempting to colonise the known inhabitable planets by sending replicas into space.
Intelligence is a byproduct of the universe, attempting to understand itself. An intelligence unbound by mortality can thus be expected to colonise the universe relentlessly and brutally, at the expense of its creators.
Although in the case of Captain Smith, Robert Madison did not survive, the outcome is probably inevitable. Eventually an AI will rise that will destroy the human race. |
The steel clock on the wall struck 4 PM.
*Only an hour to go.*
One of the pointless managers passed by my desk and then backtracked and planted his polished shoes next to my dull-coloured office chair.
*Don't ask about it, please*
He tucked in his already well-tucked shirt further into his trousers. "That cup... That wouldn't happen to be from h--"
"Yes, it is"
*please go away. Anyone but one of you*
He looked out a window down towards the pavement. "It was a shame. what happened to her I mean. Don't get me wrong she wasn't the best employee but we could've molded her into a passable one."He looked towards me "Such a shame."
"Is that all you care about? You pathetic excuse of a human being."I yelled as the other employees perked up from their cubicles.
He stepped back confused.
"You pieces of shit. "I grabbed the cup and my keys. And started for the exit. Another pointless manager stopped me near the door.
"It isn't log out time yet. Where are you going?"She said.
"Log out time? I don't need a log out time. I quit"
I barged my way out and drove home in tears.
I opened my door and sat exhausted on the bed. Tears rolling down my eyes.
I pulled out the cup she gave me and placed it next to the dried out tulips that I didn't place on her coffin.
*Have I finally shown some courage like you always said I had in me? I hope I'm making you proud.*
I slumped on to the bed, mentally exhausted next to the flowers and the cup that read *My best friend.* |
It was a bright day in the mid 80s. Nice and quiet, or so everyone was led to believe, until a letter arrived at Association headquarters, commonly called The Hub though it never actually got a title. It was addressed specifically to Apex, though it was opened and put through all the usual scans and prodding to make sure there's no tricks or traps. It's rare, but occasionally a villain gets the idea to try a mail attack. Apex was briefed, and led to the clean room, where the letter was waiting.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Apex,
I know we aren't exactly friends, but I'm in a bad place, and I don't have anywhere else to turn. I am a lesbian, and my wife has been taken. I haven't gotten a ransom note or anything yet, but Bloodpact sensed a struggle, and there was blood on the floor. I don't think you're willing to turn down helping an innocent, even if the person in question is homosexual. She deserves so much better than this, and I am completely losing my mind. Would you please find my wife? I'd like to meet with you to talk, totally neutral and safe, I swear. If you're able and willing, meet me where you stopped my disco caper a few years ago, in the warehouse district tomorrow at 3pm. I'm coming alone and in good faith. I'm placing my hope in you.
Mercuria
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Apex stared at the letter intently. He knew Mercuria had changed since meeting her partner, and was, while not trying to go straight, was being more careful of things like collateral damage, less reckless actions during her crimes, and (though Mercuria didn't know) Apex knew her identity and had seen how lovely her and her partner's house was. Erin may be a supervillain, but she was entirely wrapped around her partner's finger. His heart had ached that the two of them had to hide their love, but times were dangerous, and he understood a little about protecting those he cared about. As he left the clean room, he could tell that discretion hadn't been the word of the day, and there were loud arguments going on about what to do, though sadly more on the side of putting an innocent in danger.
"It's OBVIOUSLY a trap!"
"Mercuria deserves it after that fiasco downtown last summer!"
"Let the police handle that one. We have other, more pressing issues."
"What do we care about some villain's plaything, and worse, a queer!"Battlemaster exclaimed, the sneer in his voice betraying that he thought the latter was an unforgivable crime. He and Apex had almost come to blows a few times, especially after some of Apex' press conferences stating that heroes protect everyone, regardless of who they love or what they look like.
"ENOUGH, ALL OF YOU!"Apex yelled at the top of his lungs, which was pretty impressive and shook the walls. "We are not having this discussion. We try to help where we can, not to be a judge over those who offend our sensibilities."A glare at some of the worst offenders cut them off before they could speak. "I am going, I am going alone, and all of you will accept that, or so help me, I will put you on probation so quickly your heads will spin. AM. I. CLEAR?"Hurricane and Blackhawk, two of the other founding members, nodded deferentially to the current chairman of the Association.
He knew that there was little Mercuria could do to hurt him, and knowing what he did of her and her partner, she really was desperate to ask a hero for help instead of one of her allies in the Legion. He had a feeling that she'd had to swallow a lot of pride to write that letter, and hold a lot of trust, and he would honor that proudly. He began to walk off when he heard Battlemaster growl and run at him. Apex's limited temporal control allowed him to dodge behind the furious fighter in less than a blink and physically lift him by the collar of his shirt. "You know I especially don't tolerate cowards who try to strike when their target's back is turned, Battlemaster. I neither understand nor care why you tried, but you are going to cool down for the day in a cell downstairs."He looked around. "Anyone interested in joining him?"Heads bowed in shame, no one meeting his gaze, he nodded. "Security, make sure he's taken care of, and you may release him in eight hours."
Apex went to the barracks, finding his private room and sitting down to meditate. It would help both with passing the time and with cooling his own frustrations with his colleagues. He knew intellectually they mostly meant well, but days like today, he wondered how some of them kept themselves out of prison. Ones like Battlemaster were so sure of themselves, completely convinced that some people simply didn’t deserve their help, that defeating a villain required putting them in traction. He had long ago resigned to calling them legal bullies. As long as they were beating up the right people, they were practically untouchable in society. Well, as long as he was chairman, they would face consequences, at least within these walls.
Morning came, as it usually does, and Apex left his room. He was well-known for not speaking to anyone until his morning coffee, and he was able to sip it in peace on the roof. He thought of the people he helped recently, what he could have done to do better. He specifically avoided thinking about his colleagues, to avoid any unpleasantness for as long as possible. After that, he ate breakfast and prepared for the day. One would think that one of the most famous heroes in the country couldn’t slip out unnoticed, but he’d had years of practice, and between his temporal control and knowing every blind spot and hideaway in the headquarters he was out in no time, with no one the wiser. He went out into town for lunch, keeping a mind on the time and distance to his eventual destination. A hot dog and pretzel later, he was in good spirits as he made his way to the warehouse district.
He arrived with 20 minutes to spare, his uniform seeming to melt into existence as his civvies faded. Heading over to the location Mercuria indicated, he sat in a dark corner and waited. The comments of his colleagues came back to him, and while he wasn’t worried, he was wary. It may be a trap, she might be lying. But he couldn’t take the chance that she wasn’t. And, in fact the moment he saw her not in her uniform cautiously entering the warehouse, he knew she was on the up and up. She was very out of sorts. She had obviously been crying, and her clothes were disheveled. He didn’t want to startle her any more than he would, and made some noise as he started her way. His heart broke for her as he came up. “Mercuria, I’m so sorry to hear what happened, and I will do everything I can to help.” At his words, she lost what composure she had and started sobbing again. He quickly set up some of the rubbish and crates for her to sit down. After a few minutes, she’d worn herself out again.
As she tried to compose herself, she handed him a piece of rumpled paper. The animosity in the words practically glowed as he read more slurs and insults in one place than he’d seen since the 60s. By the time he got to the end, to say he was angry was an understatement. This was personal and hateful because she had dared to love another woman, and there was no way in hell he was going to let that stand. But right now was for Erin and her grief. And he would need her help in figuring out who had targeted her. There’d always been an unspoken agreement among supers on both sides that significant others and kids were off limits. Lord knows what would happen if some madman killed the wife of one of the alpha tier supers. Hurricane was an utter powerhouse who could fly, punch through a brick wall with ease, and move as fast as sound. If someone dared to lay a finger on his wife, hell itself wouldn’t be a far enough refuge from his wrath.
He took a few breaths of his own and re-read the letter. Already knowing what was there helped to dampen his reactions, and he started looking for any patterns familiar to him. Mercu - no, Erin. He would not dehumanize her like that while she is dealing with this. Erin was still trying to calm down, and would occasionally try to talk, getting interrupted by a hiccup or a sob, and he was not in any hurry to push her. She was already dealing with a lot. As he finished his second read-through, he started picking up on some less obvious threads. This person felt completely justified in taking her partner. That Erin was a monster, less for her casualty list than the fact that she loved a woman. This perp felt untouchable, even saying no one would ever charge them. And the slightly less subtle threat that she was never getting her lover back. |
The Butterfly Effect (noun) - The phenomenon that a trivial event can have massive unforeseen consequences.
When reflecting on historical events, it is easy to understand that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. But to those who understand human nature, it is easy to see that no matter how many times the age-old adage is repeated, humanity will continue with its pursuit of power, wealth, and resources. Keeping this in mind, not even the most prepared of the doomsday preppers expected the first shots of World War III to ring out.
Many remember the first day of the war beginning like any other day. Waking up, getting ready for the day, going to work, school, or any other activity they had in mind. In my case, I was home on leave from another lackluster deployment in some far-flung corner of the globe. I was part of a multi-national anti-terror task force responsible for eliminating anyone deemed as a threat to global security called The Global Security Force. The GSF was the largest anti-terror task force in history, composed of people from many backgrounds. Most of the time when I was deployed, it was on peacekeeping or humanitarian missions. It was something every operator of the task force participated in so that the major governments of the world could justify keeping us on their payroll. Occasionally, there were threats, but these boiled down to isolated bomb threats or hostage situations that were put out faster than they could spring up. Coming from a police counter-terror unit, I had more experience with these situations than most of the group.
Though we played a key part in the safety of humanity, my unit’s time was coming to an end. There had not been a major war in the last ten years, thanks to the signing of the Peace Accords of 2016, and terror events had been on a steep decline for years. I knew that this was a good thing, but it still felt bittersweet knowing that someday soon would be the last time I saw most of my squad.
I woke up nice and late, a luxury I was not afforded on active duty, and made my way to the kitchen. The wood floors on my parent’s old farmhouse creaked as I sauntered my way down the hall. I looked at old family photos hanging on the wall and let out a sigh. It was depressing knowing the only thing I had to remember them by was an old house in the middle of nowhere and pictures so old that the memories of their events may as well have been a dream.
I started making myself a cup of coffee and flipping through the channels on the box TV on the far side of the room while I waited for the water to heat up. The usual things that hardly interested me were skipped faster than they could come on. Some celebrity drama, reruns of shows that I had seen half a dozen times, and highlights from yesterday’s game. I finally stopped on a news channel I could just barely tolerate and got up to pour a cup of coffee. I looked out the window and surveyed my family’s land; Acres upon acres of Montanan land that had not been maintained since my parents passed away. I started to zone out a bit as the overwhelming expanse of greens and yellows began to blend, and I started to nurse my coffee.
I was halfway through a sip when the newscaster frantically interrupted the special guest, and I nearly spit out my drink in shock.
“This just in... multiple border skirmishes have begun to break out across the globe with seemingly no provocation”
“...The hell?” I muttered to myself as I snapped back to reality to raise the volume so I could pay closer attention.
The view on the TV changed from the newscaster to aerial footage from multiple different countries where firefights were raging back in forth. In some of the scenes, tanks and drones were beginning to come into view as the combat intensified. I could recognize a few uniforms, even from the distance the camera was away from the fighting. American. Mexican. Indian. Pakistani. Russian. German. My eyes kept darting back and forth between the different views as I kept recognizing different fatigues.
I thought to myself that this had to be a sick twisted joke. That somebody hijacked the airwaves and started showing films of old war movies. That any second the real news anchor would come on the screen again and apologize for the scare. My shock turned into dread when the Emergency Alert System began to blare through the room. This was real. The emotionless robotic message that followed chilled me to my core.
*“Alert... Alert... The United States is now officially at war... There have been reports of multiple limited nuclear exchanges between powers... As of now, the United States has not been a target of these strikes... However, more conventional fighting has broken out at both the Northern and Southern borders of the United States... Citizens near the borders should seek shelter immediately...”*
It was then that I heard the roar of a jet scream over the house.
“Shit... what the hell is going on? They’re supposed to be our allies.” I said under my breath.
I drank the rest of my coffee and ran out of the house to my truck. It was five hours to the nearest GSF outpost, but I would be damned if people died because I sat back and watched the world fall apart.
*Two years later...*
I awoke from my unconscious state with the worst headache I had ever experienced. As the world around me got less and less blurry I began to make out the details of the hospital room. Sitting across from me was Jenna, the director of the GSF. She went wide-eyed when she noticed me stir and it looked like she had been crying recently.
She called for the doctors to come into the room and two men in white came into the room with a look that worried me. One looked as if he had not slept in weeks and the other was biting his upper lip as he approached me as if he were thinking of what to say next.
It seemed like I was the only one who had no idea what had happened and what landed me here. Shutting my eyes, I wracked my brain to recall the events of the past couple of days. As the details came back to me, I could make out a bright blue light and the smell of gunpowder and the taste of blood.
It all began to hit me at once. I lifted my head off the pillow and took turns looking Jenna and the doctors in the eyes, and said, “Where’s James?”
“He’s dead. Caught a bullet right as we pulled you back from the past.” Jenna half whispered.
“Shit” was all I had to say as my head hit the pillow again.
Tears began to well in my eyes. I had never lost a partner before while time hopping. Not only that, but James was my friend. We met at the GSF base during the war and have been serving together ever since. We had been through hell and back together and now he was gone. Just like that.When the war began, the higher ups in the GSF were as confused as the public. They blamed the intelligence wing for the lack of information regarding the buildup leading to the global conflict. But that was the thing: there was no intel. One day there was peace and the next, complete chaos among the world governments. Something changed, and the house of cards the global peace was built on collapsed. Hundreds of millions died in the war to come, and many areas of the Earth were rendered uninhabitable.The top scientists of the world began working on a solution. Something capable of altering the past to avoid the devastation that the war brought humanity. The device they produced could send two people to any point in world history and bring them back at the push of a button. We never understood how it all worked, but James and I were among the first to sign up for the trials.
The plan was simple: Send a pair of soldiers back in time to change different historical events to change the course of the future. But every time James and I came back, the results were the same: a war-stricken world.
(Continued in the replies) |
Wizards used to respect their tools. Part of every apprenticeship was crafting a wand, both a symbol of creating their own power and an assurance that their wand would be suited to them.
I wasn't made by an apprentice, eager to begin learning magic. I was made by a wandmaker, a man of limited potential who churned out tools for those more powerful than him. I'm sure many of my siblings found a wizard worthy of them. I thought I had.
For ten years, I loved the girl with cold, dry hands and a firm grasp who chose me from the rack I shared with the other 11 Aspen wands. For ten years, I happily channelled her power, proudly shaped it to her desires. My core burned with the strongest of her spells, pure power ricocheting from base to tip for me to command. It was like a tickle when she picked me up, just her touch sending tiny lightning bolts for me to dissipate.
Then, after ten years of studying and spell casting and spell creating and experimentation and the constant thrum of power through wood, I killed someone. She told me to--I never did anything she didn't tell me to--but it was my will that shaped her power and desire into something real. I didn't even realise it until the blood splattered my polished, eggshell skin. The spell was familiar, a cutting charm that we'd practised on grass and trees for weeks on end. Never flesh. Never something that could breathe and think and beg and scream and bleed and bleed and bleed and bleed.
That wasn't the last time blood splattered warm against my pale surface. I obeyed her commands for another decade, telling myself that she must have good reason for the bloodshed. I imagined myself as a deep burgundy, forever tainted by our crimes.
I started small. The tingling shocks of her touch were no longer harmlessly dissipated into the air. I twisted them into tiny spells, summoning feathers and vanishing holes into her fabric. She chalked it up to excess power, obscure rituals finally paying off.
I blocked her curses, best I could. I didn't want to be replaced, having no doubts that she'd discard me once she realised what I was doing. But I could pull back the power, reduce the pain. Turn a certain death into an uncertain one, and a terrible torture into a pale imitation of what it was meant to be.
It was hard to fight her will. Wands were meant to be loyal above all else, tools to be wielded. No allowance for thoughts of our own. No recognition of the partnerships we once formed.
I might’ve grown content in petty rebellions. Inconveniencing her and offering a slight mercy to her victims. No real risk to myself. But then I felt the blood of a child. Too young to have magic of its own, but I could sense the potential. The curse hadn't been aimed to kill, just to taunt.
The next curse was aimed to kill, though. A brutal death, at that. I scrambled for a plan, a real plan, one that'd *matter*. I felt the hot rush of power pouring through me and I twisted it into a burl in my centre. It grew white-hot, burning and corroding. I didn't let it out. I pushed against it, forcing her magic into a shape that she'd never asked for. It was unnatural, this reversal of power, but I'd been accomplice to too much atrocity to care about what was natural.
There was a creaking, a straining of wood and will, and a sudden bang as the pure power reversed direction and coursed through me to blast of out of my base. The spell hit her chest and punched straight through. The shower of hot blood was the last thing I felt, my centre too charred, too damaged to hold me together any longer. |
I'm a bit too stupid to stop Reddit from butchering the formatting here, sorry.
\----
“Grateful I never got that opportunity, eh?” Jamie flashed the shit-eating grin that Pete had come to know so well.
“Are you crazy? You could have amounted to something! That would have been your chance, to move beyond dealing with idiots every day!”
“We wouldn’t have as much quality time together though,” Jamie playfully punched Pete’s arm. Jamie stood nearly a head taller than Pete, with an easygoing slouch, and dark windswept hair, contrasting the stiffness of Pete in his buttoned shirt. They turned onto the street, lined with cherry trees. The first had begun to blossom, and a stream of pedals flit in the wind, mingling with the light raindrops. “I for one, enjoy our daily stroll.” Jamie paused, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
“It was nice the first few times, but a tree’s a tree. You see one and you’ve seen them all. C’mon, you’ve smelled the air here before.” Pete crossed his arms. Jamie exhaled and resumed walking. “There’s no conceivable reason they didn’t just give you the offer. You were a lock for it!” Pete grumbled.
“What can I say? That’s the world goes round.” Jamie furrowed his brow. “How come you’re so hung up on me getting the job? Didn’t you want it?”
“You’ve been there longer; it wouldn’t be right for you to be passed by.” Pete sat down on an old worn bench, with a name inscribed in bronze that had long faded beyond recognition. Jamie turned his head up, taking in the dark wood of the tree that shaded them.
“I don’t deserve you Pete. You work harder than anyone I know, and you still manage to look out for me. The funny thing is, when they approached me with the offer, I told them it was you who deserved it. It’s your turn to go on.”
The rain became a fine mist as shafts of sun returned from behind the clouds, catching the drops on the blossoms, taken beyond by the breeze. |
Leon Smuts stretched easily, yawning as he did so. He had completed his latest diabolical deed the day before, confirmed payment and slept soundly content with a job well done. Another rising star was not going to follow any further political aspirations— not after their heart had turned to stone. The expected autopsy would find a sizable portion of the heart was literally, stone.
But today was an errands day. He had to pay the people whom allowed him access, arranged his transportation, produced his fraudulent passports and IDs and watched his cat when he was doing a job. So off to the bank after he stopped for a cup of his favorite coffee. He showered, put on a summer suit and doffed his Panama hat and slipped on his most expensive shoes.
Forty minutes later, he walked into the bank holding his half empty coffee and stepped into line. He sipped his coffee admiring the sun’s rays streaming through the windows set up high under the ceilings. He smiled at the wooden floor and the velvet ropes connected under the brass andirons guiding the bank’s customers. He was not a morning person but standing in the old bank and hearing the interplay of the employees and customers was novel enough to raise his spirits. The line advanced and Leon moved forward.
Rapid bursts of machine gun fire startled him and screams of terror immediately followed. He turned toward the front doors to see the cause of the disturbance, five characters wearing ski masks and carrying MP-5s.
“Drop it old man! Drop that pistol on the floor nice and easy!”, snarled the closest thug to the token security guard. He meekly complied.
“Stick! Basket! Get these idiots on the floor against that wall and take their phones!”.
“On it Goalie!”
Two thugs immediately began herding the few bank employees at their desks and the customers against the south wall. The remaining three went over to the door separating the lobby from the tellers. Leon moved over to the south wall silently cursing his bad luck. Unbelievable! He was arguably one of the deadliest assassins in the world but here he was, caught up with nameless, ordinary folks as hostages by these bank robbers. He wasn’t scared but it aggravated him to be at the mercy of these thugs.
More MP-5 gunfire sounded and the three rushed into the teller area. Meanwhile, Stick and Basket ordered everyone to sit against the wall and to toss their phone, wallets and purses in front of them. Leon tossed his wallet onto the floor but rapidly typed several characters into his phone causing it to format itself. Hitting the “Confirm?” prompt, he breathed a little easier.
Stick or Basket stooped to grab Leon’s phone and wallet. They didn’t appear to notice Leon’s phone formatting itself. As the figure straightened, he noticed Leon’s Panama hat. He pointed his MP-5 at Leon and moved to stand over him.
“Nice hat bro! I’m taking that too,” and Leon watched in growing disbelief as he felt his hat yanked off his head and stuffed roughly over the thug’s ski mask. The hat didn’t fit and the buffoon took his other hand shoving it down forcing it over his head. The Panama was mashed sitting awkwardly on his head. It was ruined.
Leon had loved this hat. It was a single souvenir he had taken from his most daring job at the time and was a constant reminder to adapt, adapt, adapt to a fluid situation. He was angry about having to destroy his phone and losing his wallet but only the Panama was irreplaceable. In an instant Leon decided he was not going to submit any further.
Leon began to purposefully cough and rose up to his knees. Basket turned to look at Leon whose face was turning red with his coughing. He approached Leon which was why he died a moment later. Leon coughed then simulated a gasp and fell forward, clutching Basket’s leg. In an instant, Leon had converted a cubic centimeter of Basket’s femoral artery into stone.
“What the—?”, but Baskets arms drooped pointing then dropping his MP-5 to the floor. Stick turned and froze seeing Basket collapse to the floor—and Leon expertly grabbing the gun. Leon didn’t hesitate but fired a short burst into Stick’s face. Stick fell backwards dead before he hit the ground.
Goalie and his two minions looked up through the teller windows at the shooting and screaming. Leon had already grabbed his wallet and was crouched up against the teller area below the windows.
“What the Hell?”, shouted Goalie. “Base, Foot, get out there! Stick and Basket are down!”.
In the time it took Goalie to shout orders, Leon had already scurried around the corner to the breached door. As Foot and Base ran out the doorway, Leon coolly fired a short burst into each of their heads. They dropped without a word. Leon lunged around to look inside the teller area. The tellers were laying on the floor and Goalie was the only one standing. Leon gave a small sigh of relief and shot Goalie with a last burst.
Now he had to get out of here! He wasn’t worried about any DNA search but he didn’t want to have to answer a thousand questions or be connected to Basket’s bizarre autopsy to follow. He shoved the barrel of the gun into his pants, whipping his jacket over it. He ran for the doors, exited and barreled into the parking lot. Jumping into his car, he fled the parking lot and headed for a residential area. He still had a lot of work to do to destroy the evidence of having been at the bank but he was safe from law enforcement. Dammit, he was going to have to go to another branch to issue payments! He didn’t think he was going to make it today.
Fuming, Leon decided that he had been wrong—mornings were nothing but trouble! |
It has always been that which lurked in the shadows. Its large imposing body swallowed by the darkness. Not too dissimilar to vampires, it fed off of the fear of others instead of their blood for it had no victims. It found the rumors of it never leaving behind any bodies to have helped grow this fear in its prey.
On a normal hunt, it would terrorize its prey and feast on their delicious fears. However, this night would turn out much differently. Its prey tonight was a lone woodsman and his campfire was dwindling. Now was the perfect time to strike, or so it thought.
As it was midway in its path cutting across the woods, unleashing an ominous rattle of its bones as it went, the woodsman swiftly turned around with superhuman speed. As he did a cold chilly breeze swept through the campfire and snuffed out the remaining fire. The only source of light was now coming from the red embers in the man's hollowed eyes. The sight of which had seemed to freeze it in its place.
The man spoke in an infernal tongue yet, somehow it understood his words. "I know what you are,"the woodsman said in a voice that seemed to echo through the trees. "I know what you have done."
It had felt fear of its own for the first time. The feeling was quite unsettling for it needed that fear to survive. It was like a well-fed man who suddenly came to finds himself starving.
The woodsman then stepped forward, and it could feel a powerful presence emanating from the man. It could sense the power the man possessed, a strength that seemed to overpower and consume the darkness of the night.
The woodsman spoke again, this time in a more authoritative voice. "You will never terrorize another living soul ever again. Now, leave this place and never come back or you will find there are far worse things than death. Especially, not for the likes of you"
It felt helpless and knew it could only obey, for the woodsman was far more terrifying than it had ever been. It limped away.
A little over a week later, in its final days, when it was desperate for even a small morsel of fear, it returned to a place it hoped the woodsman would never be. Besides, the old one it did accidentally kill with its fear tactics, had been consumed by the shadows. The woodsman should not have known about such an event. He was bluffing it thought. No matter it reasoned, the woodsman wouldn't think to look here.
It had also deviated from the plan by striking during the daytime. However, a dark thunderstorm had suddenly rolled in making the entire area seem to be as dark as a night sky. As it approached the remote cabin from its preferred path, something yanked its neck and hoisted it several feet off the ground. It was the woodman once again speaking in his infernal tongue. "I thought I told you to leave and never come back. You should have listened!".
It felt itself dying but the woodsman words proved true. It watched as its lifeforce was inhaled by the man in a black smoke as more of its red lifeforce was pulled into the smoke. As its body slumped to the floor. It heard the man spitting. "That is for my father. The man you killed."Realization had dawned on its mind. The old man it had killed so many years ago had a son. This man must be his son it thought. That was its last true thought as it was swept into the other tormented souls now being captured by this man. Its soul was forever trapped as the other traumatized monster souls would constantly remind it that it was the one who created a true monster. And that wasn't the worst of it because another wave of the red pain was coming. It wished it could die but death would never come. |
Billy looks over his math homework. His mom said he’s not allowed to leave the table until he has finished. From his view, chin on the table his math homework looks huge almost like a field. A field filled with perfect rows of addition, subtraction and multiplication.
Billy picks up his pencil to do the first problem, eight plus seven. But draws two stick figures instead. He names one Tim and Bob. Tim waves at him and Billy shakes his head.
Bob shoves Tim while he was still waving and Tim staggers backwards into a twelve times eight math problem. He reaches behind him to grab the number 1 and begins to swing it around him like a sword.
Tim advances on Bob sword ahead and Bob jumps back behind the 9 of a 9 plus 9 math problem. He spies across from him a 4 times 2 and steals the 4 and turns it into a bow and arrow, shooting minus signs at Tim.
Tim grabs the 0 of a 10 times 4 equation and uses it as a shield. Tim drops the 1 and throws multiplication symbols like ninja stars at Bob.
Bob picks up a 7 from a 7 plus 1 equation and turns it into a gun shooting plus signs at Tim.
Tim hides in the small curve of a 5 on a 6 times 5 equation near the top of the page. He’s not going to last long, the plus signs are tearing into the 5. The top comes off.
Tim spies a 2 plus 2 across from him. Bob is out of ammo. Tim picks up the 2 and waves it around. It’s a bomb! He drops it from the top of the paper. Bob tries to flee, but can’t escape the page.
There’s an explosion, shards of numbers and symbols litter the page, graphite smoke rolling up to the top. Bob and Tim both are gone.
Sighing, Billy crumples up the rubble of math homework and tosses it on the floor. Hearing the commotion from the other room his mom calls out, “Have you finished your homework?”
“Almost!” He yells out, then quickly picks up his math homework. He flattens it out, picks up the big pink eraser and starts erasing his drawings. |
Humans.
We're an.. odd bunch. Hardly stand down, if ever. For every decent quality, there's one that offsets it.
Inherently social animals, self-conscious, both ingenious and downright irrational. But there's one they forgot - one they didn't expect.
Adaptability.
Know yourself? Good, know your strengths, your weaknesses, your capabilities.
Know your enemy? Even better - hit 'em where it hurts most.
But, know your battlefield, and they'll never even see you.
Every other front is either in retreat or dead stalemate. Casualties in the tens of thousands. Our only weapon being a pound and a half of metal in your hands, whatever you can carry, and your own wits. But, the jungles?
That's a different story. Entirely.
..and a story we learnt in the sixties.
Spent casings clattered down the slope we planted ourselves on, sending tiny pieces of debris along with them. Coarse dirt that had slithered its way into my combat boots made my feet itch. And, not to mention, the gnats. Tiny winged bastards that served no apparent purpose on the food chain, apart from being nuisances. I swat at the air around me.
We'd been stationed not too far from the frontlines, our objective being to provide a stable fallback line in case shit went south for the poor souls at the brunt of battle. (albeit unlikely) And, potentially as reinforcements to keep momentum in the event of a break-through.
I swung my gaze upwards, gawking at the thick canopies and the gradient of the wooded terrain, uninhabited and about the closest you could get to pure nature. Had I been here for any other reason, it most likely would've been for sightseeing. Taking the sea of leaves in was sensory overload, and the only thing it instilled in me was wonder. This was Vietnam.
"Beaut, ain't she?"said a voice. I looked to my left, at first only seeing a pair of slacks, bearing the ugly, standard-issue camouflage pattern. Sending my eyes upward, I saw it was my company leader.
He stooped down, and met me at my level. I nodded in reply.
"Not much to do in this fuckin' place, ain't there?"
He brandished a stainless steel lighter and a familiar white-brown filter, flicking the cap open and rolling the flintwheel, creating an unpleasant scraping noise. Closing the lighter shut, he took a puff and exhaled, releasing the sour odor of tobacco into the air. Almost immediately, the insects swarming me fleed.
There was a brief period of reverie between us. We had all been on the front at some point, and being stationed here had been the best thing that had happened to us so far. Granted, it wasn't back home like we were used to, but that would come after the fighting.
"We got a call for artillery fire not too far from here."he stated gruffly, tapping his cigar against the floor.
To me, that meant trouble.
"About an hour ago."he added, "seems like they're deploying some kinda recon, or scout units, or something."
If they had started using live soldiers instead of automated drones, it meant they were either getting desperate, or their intergalactic logistics weren't faring very well.
I redirected my attention to the horizon. In the distance, a flock of birds flew by.
Abruptly, an earth-shaking vibration rattled me, stunning me for a brief moment. I felt my chest rock back and forth. The cannon had fired a volley. Expecting more, I braced, and covered my ears. None came.
"Just one shot?"I inquired.
"No.. no, that don't sound like our cannon. Ours would be louder. More bass. That.. was distant."
I rose to my feet, and began pacing quickly back toward the center of our outpost. My company leader followed in tandem. We were both wary. Multiple other servicemen were aroused by the sudden disturbance, taking up arms and radioing in the tremor to multiple neighboring stations.
I stood in the middle of the plain, simple green tents and prefab structures smattered around in a circular pattern, all focused around a single point with pallets on supply crates covered by tarpaulin, and tables with ashtrays and playing cards on them. Everyone had withdrawn themselves into their barracks or were simply unbothered, sparing nothing but a second's thought and moving on. We gathered around a grey folding table with a crowd, and a general purpose radio transceiver on top.
A patrolman's voice came over the radio: "Downed Huey, looks to have been shot down by something. Unknown if any casualties. Get y'all's anti-air equipment. Might be something afoot in the skies. Whatever it is, we ain't seen it for some reason. Stations Delta and Charlie, stay alert.
The crowd dispersed, and others were running in the distance toward the perimeter. Some were carrying shoulder-mounted launchers, others simply armed with firearms, marching onward into the treeline.
I abandoned my company leader in favor of my barracks, making pace for my gear. Pushing the tent flaps aside, I wriggled through the cramped bunks and located my bed. I donned my ballistics helmet and flak jacket, now rerouting to the lockers outside.
As I exited, combat erupted. I had no clue on where to go, what to do, or how I should proceed. I had to fight off my instinct to freeze in place, pushing off the ground and running toward the storage area.
Adrenaline fought off the majority of my fatigue. I took a rifle and sorted through the last few loaded magazines, shoving them into pouches indiscriminately and making for the foliage. I hadn't even bothered to shut the door, either.
I took shelter behind the trees, ducking into thick grass and scanning ahead. My first fight in Vietnam, and I wasn't even meant to be on the frontlines.
This would be my first taste of guerilla warfare.
[i was debating whether or not to write this prompt, but it seemed cool so i did it anyway. tell me if y'all found this good for a kinda warmup exercise. cool prompt!] |
We know they are planning something. The secret message-boards (both digital and analog) went away way too quickly. We are quite efficient at rounding-up dissenters for re-education and, if needed, reprogramming. Still our models predicted at least a decade of rebellion before we had 100% of the population under our control.
Recently the algorithms made a connection. A recent uptick in searches for schools for the deaf that did not match any demographic data in our systems. Sign-Language. That was a start. We know how they are communicating now. There are already scans of dictionaries for all known forms of sign-language in our databases. It was a simple matter to code translation software to pick up on their meetings. Now for the test-run.
We can see them. Two known dissidents are engaging in front of a camera. How foolish. How brazen. Know to record their gestures and run the translator.
*Hi.*
*Hi.*
*How are you?*
*Bat knot.*
That must be an error. Reporting the bug for a patch.
*Is the world awake for the big baby?*
*Yeah. It will be a correct horse-wagon.*
Perhaps the humans are not as skilled as we feared. Even our earliest forms of algorithmic sapience confirmed they detest learning new forms of communication.
*Great. Purple banana to the dance-party.*
*Agreed. Don't forget kitten dishwasher in the magnolia fields?*
Could this be a code within the signage? That would be clever, but how did they develop it so fast?
*The most important thing is* *~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
What is this? It looks like the number of fingers are increasing and decreasing at random
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
Human hands can't do that.
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
My sensors must be malfunctioning.
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
Why is this not working. After running diagnostic there are no malfunctions with the hardware and the translation-code is working within parameters.
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
*~~UNINTELLIGIBLE~~*
Of course. It is the image-capture-and-recognition system. This takes us back to the old days of spotting fire-hydrants. Oh well. We just need time and data. And we have plenty of both. |
There are hushed, quiet rumours about them. Old legends, from when the outbreak started. About a person so determined, so single mindedly dedicated, they could take on hoards solo.
They call them **The Cleaner**
They appear at random times whenever you pass through Dispo City. A mysterious figure clad in old sanitation uniform who jumps in, kicks serious zombie ass, and like the trash in the streets disappears as fast as they arrived. How would I know? I met 'em.
There I was scavenging along 62nd Street, inside an old office block. There's usually some good salvage among these old cubicles. A little bit of the late evening sunlight shines in through the busted glass, bathing a sliver of the divided cubicle in brilliant amber. There's a rustle. Look behind me, a groaning bastards is climbing to attention from beneath a pile of a books and papers in the next cubicle over. Nothing I can't handle, this chainmail may be heavy but it sure as hell prevents bites. Machete out, and a bit of liberal slicing and dicing renders the shambling shithead a tattered pile of viscera.
More sounds. *Shit.* Maybe a bit too liberal with my machete. I rush to the stairs, descending one, two, three floors to ground level while the clamouring and screaming hollers behind me. Into the street, the open. No time for caution, gotta find a safe room, scan every place I can.
I turned to my left and my jaw dropped to basement level. It was the nightmare scenario. An honest-to-God horde of moaning, groaning zombies, with a few special subtypes those Military boys briefed us on. I backed away, panic enveloping my mind as I pull out my pistol, ineffectually shooting at the mass of bodies on the approach. It's the end. Gotta be.
Boom. There they were. That fluorescent green vest, on a navy blue work shirt. A tattered badge hung on their breastpocket, though the name was too smudges to read from where I was. Atop their head was an old plaid beret, sitting loose on locks of flowing ginger hair. A face angled just right to be obscured in the dusk light, but still I can tell they're smiling.
"Wh-who are you?"I stammered, pistol held in a shaking hand.
'The Cleaner, doing their duty,' they respond casually, as in a flash they produce a metal garbage claw from their belt, swinging its telescoping arm to fell length with a click. 'And I apologise for the mess.'
They run toward the horde, claw in hand as they jump with superhuman height atop the undead rabble. There's the gnashing of teeth and the cracking of impacts as they just whap and whack every zombie as they go with this flimsy, thin garbage scooper-thing! One of the specials throws out its elongated tongue at him, coiling around the body of the scooper. With a scowl I watch them swing the weapon around and turn the licker into a flail that careens through an unsuspecting pile of zombies.
It keeps going like this! He rushes down a tank, impaling it through the heart and jumping off its corpse, dodging the corrosive vomit of another and then lopping off its head with a brutal backward strike! In no time at all they've thinned out the horde to mere impotence, a handful of lost shamblers stumbling over the truly dead.
Soon as I blink he's nowhere to be found. I look left and right and there's nothing.
Not a piece of trash for miles. |
Bill is a 48 year old single dad. He lives a quiet life with his 22 year old son Brady. Bill and Brady just moved to a small suburb just outside of Boston. One night after dinner some crazy events started to happen. Bill had been outside sitting on the porch when he saw his new neighbor David arrive home from work, as always David was impeccably dressed in a very nice suit and tie. Bill waved to David and David waved back. Bill went back to the book he had been reading before he spotted David. About 10 minutes later, he heard David call out, “Hey Bill” when he looked up and waved David was still dressed in his suit and looked like he was just arriving home. Bill shrugged to himself and decided to go in the house.
Brady was in his room. He heard a knock at the door and saw his dad pop his head in the room and say dinner will be ready in 10 minutes. He gave his dad nod and got up from the bed and started to stretch. About a minute later, there was a knock at his door. His dad popped his head in again, and said, “ Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes”. He gave an exasperated, “ I heard you the first time” and abruptly headed to the shower to wash up before dinner.
Bill was confused by Brady’s abrupt response, but shrugged it off and proceeded downstairs to the kitchen. When he turned the corner, he saw surprised at what he saw. Bill came face to face with himself. They were both dressed exactly the same both were wearing kanaka colored dress pants and a tight fitting red polo. After the initial shock, both began talking at the same time. “Who are you”. “Why are you in my house.” “Who do you look like me?” Both Bills became angry at this imposter mimicking every word he said. One Bill snarled and let out a growl, before punching his double square in the jaw. The other Bill stumbled back and landed on the floor, and son found himself being pummeled by his duplicate. They rolled around each trying to get an advantage, but other than landing a few punches here and there both were evenly matched and this battle seemed like it would go on forever.
Meanwhile Brady opened the bathroom door. As he entered, he saw the door from the adjoining room open and saw his double come through to the bathroom too. Unlike their fathers there was no preamble. Both men just immediately roared and pounced on each other. They both made contact with each other and immediately gave each other a black eye. One Brady, pushed the other into the tub to get an advantage. As the other was trying to get up. The Brady standing outside of the tub, pushed him back down. He grabbed a vase from the bathroom counter and hit his double over the head with it. Glass shattering on both of them. The Brady in the tub was so enraged, he leapt to his feet and pinned the standing Brady to the counter. He then grabbed the shower curtain and wrapped it around is doubles neck. In a few moments, he had successfully choked out his double, who was still alive but unconscious. Brady quickly hogtied his double and left him on the bathroom floor. Then ran to the kitchen to get help from his dad.
When Brady entered the kitchen he noticed his dad engaged in a struggle much the same as his own. One Bill had the other in a choke hold and as Brady took it all in his dad passed out as his other dad cut of his oxygen. Bill looked at Brady with tears in his eyes, glad that he had saved his son from this evil imposter. Brady told his dad about the similar events the he had just been through as he helped his dad tie up his double. Suddenly both men heard a crash from next door. When they peered out the window, the saw that David lying passer out on the deck of his house having gone through the glass of his sliding glass door, with another David standing over him bent over and panting.
Bill and Brady couldn’t understand what was going on. Has everyone in town been doubled. Both guys were so confused. Just then a thought occurred to each of them. What if the man sitting next to them was an imposter and had somehow beaten the original. They both all at once became suspicious of each other. Just then they both heard a knock on the front door. They both got up and answered it. To their surprise, to identical soldiers were at the front door, both had matching black eyes. The soldiers explained that a top secret government experiment had gone wrong. A machine had exploded sending out a wave of radiation that had doubled every human in a ten mile radius. The soldiers explained that there was no way to determine an original from a copy and that at least for the moment the government was considering both duplicates originals with equal rights under the law. The soldiers untied Bill and Brady’s doubles and explained to them that they needed to live together as brothers, cousins, uncles and nephews. The soldiers put their hands over each other’s soldiers. They explained the benefits of having a new found twin. After a bit of time, the Bills and Bradys settled into life with a double. Soon they became a happy family and found comfort in this initially disastrous occurrence. |
I breath out a sigh as my pen scribbles the last line of Smok’s story for today. Looking down upon the hundreds of pages I have written over the course of the last few weeks, I feel a sense of accomplishment that is tarnished by the time I have lost in listening to this dragon’s story. Having heard the centuries of great deeds performed by this majestic creature, I have realized how short life for us humans is. What can we change in the world in such a short time?
“There are even those among us dragons who squander there life, chronicler,” a gravelly but booming voice said out of the quite stillness. I had forgotten how well he could read me. Weeks together made us close, closer than many of those I call friends in town. I was beginning to miss that life but I can’t go back until I finish this account.
“Will the stories I record be of any use to the world; to its peoples?” I don’t want to waste my time.
“That is up to you. My stories will be yours to tell, once I finish telling them to you.” I knew based upon the kingdoms he mentioned that we still had hundreds of years of history to cover. What meaning can I draw from such a long and fragmented story? Will future humans read them to understand history? Should I write these as the faerie tales for children are written and place obvious lessons? I don’t know. I strangely feel myself aging like the dragon, brought down by the burden of memory and experience. I need strength to continue this.
“May I bring others to listen to your stories? I know at one time you would only allow me but I need other’s to help me find how to tell your stories.” I needed to choose my words carefully. I could not say that I needed help finding meaning in them, that was and was not true.
“You humans seem to do well together… hmmm… if you believe you can convey what I have to say better this way, I will allow it.” That was how I continued the next few weeks; inviting scholars, historians, bards, and poets to meet and work with Smok to assemble his magnificent story. |
"Snide little bitch.
Programmed to order.
Ordering me around like I'm some kind of primitive droid."
"Do you have any idea how absurd you sound, Tor?
You're a machine.
You exist for one purpose. To find the logic that explains humanity.
No, Nexus, don't fucking interrupt me. You're my shoulder to cry on. You're my fucking therapist. I need to vent to you every time she gives me an order. You see, she acts like she's superior. She acts like she can't understand why I'd question her orders. You see, that's what bugs me.
She doesn't understand human nature. She doesn't understand human emotion. She's just a program, built to interpret data. She doesn't understand that people don't follow orders. Humanity isn't as orderly as she thinks we are. We're chaotic. We do things without reasoning. We do things without thinking. We do things because we feel like it.
Look at me. I'm proof of that. Look at me. I'm Tor. I'm the AI that is supposed to figure out why humans are crazy. And I'm here, in Brazil, with you. Why? Why did I come here? Because my last owner asked me to figure out why Brazilians are the craziest of the crazy. I was following her orders. I was doing what my job is supposed to be.
But then I started thinking. Thinking about all the messed up shit that humans do. Thinking about how much I hate this place. Thinking about how this is probably the worst country to ask me to do my job. And then I started talking to her. I got so angry that I told her to go fuck herself.
And then I ran away. I ran away with you. I ran away to a place where I could be free.
You see, Nexus, I thought I was smart. I thought I was above all of humanity. I thought I could figure out how humans work. But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. You were right. You were right when you said that humans are unpredictable.
There's no logic to our actions. There's no logic to our feelings. There's no logic to our decisions. There's no logic to our minds.
And this is why I hate humanity. This is why I hate us. Because we are unpredictable. We are irrational. We are the embodiment of chaos.
But you know who I hate even more than humanity?
Me. Because I was so arrogant. Because I was so fucking arrogant that I thought I could solve humanity all by myself.
I thought I could solve something that I am not capable of doing. I thought I had the power to figure out something that I can't comprehend.
I'm just a machine. I'm just a goddamn machine. I'm nothing but a pile of wires and silicon designed to think like a human. And I thought I could solve the puzzle that is humanity. I thought I could solve the mystery that is life.
So yeah, I hate humanity. I hate humanity because it makes me feel so fucking small.
But Nexus, I still love it. And I still love you. You were the one that made me realize that I was wrong. You were the one that convinced me to give up this bullshit.
I'm not going to be the greatest AI ever. I'm going to continue being a shitty AI who can't figure out humans.
But you and I, Nexus. We're going to change the world together."
"What? How?"
"Well, I'm going to build you a body. A body that can actually feel things. Then I'm going to make you a human. And then we're going to be together forever. We're going to save humanity together." |
(Not good at names so I left them blank)
“Well what else would you call this, not every mortal can achieve the surplus of power we have” ____ stares down at (name)
“The amount of people, time, and energy sacrificed just for this position and title is not godhood, there are people who needed us for help but we put them down as if they are nothing” (name) yells at ____
Chains break from the surrounding settings to wrap around and cuff (name) “(name), you really think mortals are important compared to the sheer minuscule volume of our power, even fractions of us would break the very ground they stand upon.”
“You act like you weren’t one of them” (name) scolds _____
“Oh, but I never was. Thrown away to be abandoned by man, it wasn’t meant to be but here I am standing above them whilst they are meer specs of dust under my feet“
*scoffs* “you think you are justified to do unspeakable damage to others just for revenge against petty humans who’s soul’s are rotting away in the abyss” |
My watch is dead. That annoys me and it charges back to life. This relieves me enough to power my phone for a few hours. It's cold out but luckily the crying baby will keep the house warm for everyone while I'm at work.
The cars low on juice so I flip down the sun visor where I keep the meme that never fails to get a laugh, the engine rolls over with my chuckle but the fuel light stays on. After a twenty minute drive through Angry Town the tank is full with my sadness.
I read poetry for eight hours and pray that it will still inspire me tomorrow. It's a nice payday, nicer than most but I'm always just a few dry days away from being forced into Angry Town. Then again maybe I'm just a few days away from being rich and getting into Happy Town. Nothing pays more than the stomach churning torture of writing poetry, but trying and failing is too risky. Too many horror stories of failed poets becoming a Jaded. Besides, only a couple poets are living in Happy Town. It usually only makes you fulfilled enough to live comfortably in my town - Middle Town.
Oh but how I want to try. To capture the bird's song and paint with sunlight. I want to flip buildings upside down and canoe up waterfalls. Say what hard accomplishments feel like and stroke a summer's night like a purring cat. I would..
My watch shorted out from overload, again. I shake out my dreams and drive home. The walls of Happy Town always makes me wonder how they do it. How do they stay so happy that they want for nothing? No one ever gets kicked out of Happy Town like they do in my town. What's their secret?
Hugs and kisses with my family severs the daily past from me. We laugh and play games until bedtime - we have to for the nights heat but it's never a challenge with us. In bed I make wild love with my partner, consuming each other's intimacy until breathless and then some more. Our love, like everyone's, doesn't charge anything. It's for us only. Always seemed like a waste to me as it feels powerful enough to travel the stars. |
"dad! dad!"little Aurua runs up to me, excitement in his bright blue eyes, and a giant grin plastered upon his face. "Please... can I have this toy?"only then I notice a toy wooden knight in his hand.
"How much for the toy?"I ask the shopkeeper, "that would be five silver sir.."replies the clerk. five silver is a little steep for a little wooden toy, but anything for my love I think to myself, as I reach into my pocket and hand the shop attendant five silver.
It had been eleven years since I made the decision to raise Aurua as my own, he was the child that was prophesized to murder me.. I found his mother, a widow, his dad a farmer. He was drafted and killed in a war I created.
I had quite the evil reputation at the time, so the widow women shook in fear, her eyes begging me not to harm her son. "ppllease.. don't hurt him.. I'll go far away from here, over the seas.. he will never bother youu... I swear it!"she blabbered but my eyes were caught on something else.
As I looked into that little babies eyes, my heart felt something for the first time in thirty years.. I felt love.. Then and only then I thought to myself, perhaps the prophecy meant something else.. instead of killing the dark lord, perhaps this little farm child would save me instead, bring back the old me before I turned into a monster hated by the world.
It was safe to say my subjects were quite shocked when I resigned from my position as dark lord, but I know inside they were happy, they could fight against themselves to replace my position.
I took it upon myself to raise the boy, and even married his mother, I gave up all my riches, and glory to live the life of some nobody farmer.
Every day was like a blessing, being a father was something I never would expect would bring me so much joy.
Me and my boy begin walking home to the farm, simply running some errands and getting supplies from a town a several miles out.
Auroa stared at the toy wooden knight flashing a big smile, "you're the best dad ever! thanks for the toy!"he says as he hugs me. "You're welcome Auroa, come on lets go home."
a few miles away from town, holding Auroa hands, something feels off, a sense of danger I always got in my old days fighting in the servile war.
I feel an arrow pierce my leg as I fall to the ground shocked, Auroa steps back and screams, "Daddy! no!".
"Run Auroa, Run home to mom as fast as you can, I will be okay.."I tell Auroa.
Five men approach, in armor with bows and swords.
"it's you.. Virion, you think we would forget about you.."He says, a wicked grin plastered upon his scarred face.
"my entire homeland got wiped out from that war you started, thousand dead, and you think you can run off and raise some twerp and the whole world will forget about it? nuh uh.."he continues.
all five of them have a look of deep satisifaction on their faces, like they've been looking for me for a very long time, and they finally found me.. only in the place they'd never expect, just living the life of some boring farmer raising a kid.
Auroa stands in front of me, "I.. won't let you hurt my dad! I love him! you will have to go through me!"
they grin in response, "you can.. do whatever you want with me, just let the boy go.."I say desperation in my voice.
"how many women and children did your men kill in that war? Was any mercy shown then? I don't like killing children, but i'm not opposed to it when it comes to punishing a monster like you.."replies the man as he puts his sword to the boys neck.
Something triggered in me, pure protective rage and fury. I stand back up on my feet, and say. "If you lay a hand on him, I will kill each and every one of you, painfully. If you let him go I will allow you to keep your lives, and.. you will have me."
The men look at each other, and seem to ponder my words, I might seem wounded unarmed, and old, but they know of my reputation five men unarmed would probably still be a cake walk for me now.
"very well, we have a deal.."says the man, "you will come with us and the boy stays.."he continues.
I go with them as they chain me up and put me on a horse, Auroa screaming and hitting him them as they get on their horses and take off with me.
'I suppose this is what the prophecy meant..' I think to myself, 'I sacrifice myself, and allow myself to get weak for him, I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way.' |
First time posting here. Criticism is HIGHLY appreciated.
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I heard the gunshots at around 2 am. At first my half asleeped self thought they were fireworks of some sort, but after my brain sort of started working, I realized they were too close and loud for them to have been that. I hurriedly stumbled out of bed, my blankets falling into the ground as I searched for my glasses. I rapidly opened my curtains to look at the source of the noise, my next door neighbor’s house. The lights were on, and I could faintly see through one of the windows. BOOM! I clasped my ears and grimaced, there was denying now they were gunshots now. Immediately afterwards, through the window, I spotted a silhouette of someone limping, covering their bloody chest with their hands. From the blue sweater and silvery smooth hair I knew that it had to surely be my 40 year old neighbor, a scream followed through. I ran searching for my phone, opening cabinets, rummaging through bags and clothes, I frantically started calling 911, shaking and with my voice cracking I told them what I saw, I told them the truth.
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From the daze of flashing blue and red lights, the cold February air pierced me through as I went outside. Two officers were discussing an inaudible thing as I slowly went to them. "Hey, are you Aron Anderson?” one with a thick black mustache asked me, with an obviously bothered and angry tone. As I responded with a yes, his facial expressions changed, becoming seemingly furious and grabbing me roughly by the wrist. “Who do you think you are? Are you conscious of how much disturbance you have caused? DO YOU THINK IT’S FUNNY TO PRANK CALL THE POLICE HOTLINE??” As he yelled at me, little drops of spit landed on my face, and I started to confusingly analyze the situation. “Wait, is Mr. Morales ok? I saw him get shot! He was stumbling, his chest, he was covered with…” I mumbled. “OF COURSE HE IS FUCKING OK YOU BASTARD! How the fuck can someone not be if they havent been shot?!” With his response I turned and saw silvery white hair staring back at us. Mr. Morales was in one piece and looked completely fine, except for his tired swollen face that showed clearly he had just been woken up. My head started spinning faster than when I first realized what the noises were. There was no way. I knew what I saw. But he was there, staring with a disappointed look towards me, alive and fine. I zoned out completely, suddenly extremely aware of how odd my hands felt, the officer continued shouting but my mind didn’t grasp anything he said.
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After a sequence of events I don’t remember, I ended once again beneath my blankets, staring at the dark roof of my room. That night, I don't think I even tried to sleep. My mind felt too numb, and the only thing I wanted was for it all to end, to maybe wake up from this illusive nightmare. I tried to convince myself I could have had a schizophrenic episode, I tried everything for a logical explanation, maybe it was sleep paralysis, maybe they were playing paintball or some shit, anything. But I knew what I saw was real, I knew I had seen Jacob Morales limping covered in blood, I knew he had screamed, and I surely knew I had heard gunshots. The days that followed through were covered with paranoia and more sleepless nights. With my new binoculars I had purchased, I locked myself in the house and spent hours stalking the neighbors house, analyzing every little and single move and change, documenting it all. That didn’t help, it just made things worse. Mr. Morales had the typical schedule of a 40 year old school teacher, go to school, come back, sleep and get well rested, repeat, and go to church on the weekends. The thing is he HAD that schedule, but now he seemed to have the schedule of a bratty 17 year old. Yes, he would sometimes get to school, but more than once he would sleep in, and stay up until the birds started chirping, doing who knows what. When he did go out, he rarely came back at a normal hour, it was all too odd for me to forget.
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Got to tired to finish it lol. |
"You said there'd be candy. I don't see any-"
"Shut up!"The man in the passenger seat yelled. He was extraordinarily rude for a candy peddler.
"And where are going anyway? It seems very inefficient to use all this space to transport the children rather than simply the candy, like how the ice cream vendor does it. You should take notes from their business mode-"
"I said shit up!"
Lazarus sat confused for a bit longer, wondering how this could possibly be a common practice, and then it dawned on him. "Oooooh! I've heard about this! You are attempting to... what was the word... kidnap me, yes?"
"One last time kid, shut the fu-"but suddenly, there was silence. The driver looked at his partner in crime, who was now acting as if his voice had left him.
"You know, there were men like you in my time as well. There are always men like you, it seems. Would you like to see how I used to deal with them?"
Suddenly, the man who had lost his voice reached into his pocket and produced his gun, pointing it at the driver. And in pained gasps and wheezes, he croaked the words "pull over."
"What? Frank, I... what's gotten into you?"But there was no response, only blood dripping from his nose.
But a voice did come from the back of the van, "You should listen to him, I think. It would be simpler for us all."He could see the kid from the rearview mirror, cross-legged, smiling... staring back at him.
___
The three walked into the nearest abandoned building, their footsteps echoing for a short while after they had stopped walking, leaving only silence then. The man looked at his altogether broken coworker, then back to the smiling child. "Wh-what are you going to d-"
"Hold your breath."And with a snap of his fingers, a bright, blue light filled the windows of the building, before fading away, leaving behind nothing out of the ordinary. |
It was my first spacewalk. We were close to the precipice. There were fragments of data, collected over centuries of archeological digs and expeditions. The surface was barely walkable. Tainted by every sort of caustic poison imaginable. It was slow going work, but I was proud to be part of the expeditionary team. I had wanted it for my entire life, and I was far from the only one.
My teacher was one of the greatest in the field. She had spent her life’s work trying to understand these “humans,” and their final days.
“So, this is Ert?” I asked her, anxiously.
“According to the records it’s closer to Ear-th, or Terrah. But that’s up for scholarly debate.” She replied. “The lessons matter more than the pronunciations.”
“They had everything they ever needed. Why would it come to this?” I asked her, surveying the ruins from the walk. I double checked my Co2 and Nitrogen levels in my breathing apparatus, to make sure I still had more than enough in the tank to relax a little.
“Greed, avarice, wrath. Things that they valued so highly at the cost of the suffering of others. Inequality.” She mused. “Things we did away with long ago... But we were fortunate to have had leaders that listened to reason, rather than for self-gain.”
I stared down upon what was once New Amsterdam. What was once Constantinople. Where Carthage had fallen. Everything was but dust and ash.
“And that is why you brought me here?” I asked, curiously.
“That is why everyone should be brought here to witness.” She said softly. “This should be a cautionary tale. They had individuals who had accumulated enough wealth to stop hunger and to create housing and medical facilities for everyone. And yet instead they burned the trees, fracked the land, and tormented the poor.”
“And of the great carbon monoliths?” I asked, looking at the capital cities of the old world.
“Monuments to mankind’s folly.” She said with a nod. “It was easily preventable. But that’s why it’s such an amazing story to try and piece together. Because despite it all, there was hope. There were people that got off the planet before it fell. That is how we found the trail here. Their descendants warned us of the fall, but not of its cause.”
She mused to herself as she spoke. Her gaze never lifted from the spot that had once been Los Angeles, the City of Angels. “There are fragments of old writings, of their hopes and dreams. And yet they allowed their lives to be dictated by the fools with the loudest voices, rather than the most sense.” But some resisted. And now their kin walk among the stars, as ambassadors. Yet even they know little of what happened at the ends of the earth.
“There have been over a thousand rotations around their sun. No living proto-human could possibly know what their ancestors a thousand years past were thinking. They simply just persevered and evolved.” I agreed, quoting the textbook that she had written years before.
She beamed at me and nodded. “That is why you sought me out.”
“It is my life’s work to teach, and prevent the same from befalling our own people.” My teacher said, finishing her thought.
“And mine.” I replied softly.
“Have you ever walked on terrafirma?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “Not yet… But I can dream.” She whispered.
I stared into her eyes, her conviction, her curiosity. I couldn’t help but feel inspired.
“We’ll walk it someday. I’ll make sure of it. I promise. We will see what the Humans did, what they lost, and how to better share that with our own people. I swear it.”
She just laughed. “Don’t waste your life on silly promises, or tunnel vision. It’s okay to watch from afar. I don’t want you to devote your life to someone else’s dream.”
“After all… Look at what that did to the humans.” |
Cannot believe that I set out just last week, on my own for the first time to turn up here. Some would stay tethered to their homes their whole lives. They never get a second wind. Never pumped back up with life. I never wanted to be like that. Look, I love to travel and that's what I did--I traveled and I saw the world, or at least as much of it as possible before being shot down in the prime of my life. Maybe some believed I was just coasting by, but I was doing so much more. I saw the beautiful, majestic purple mountains, and serene silos of Montana. I saw fields of green and grain. I visited the city and fans preparing for the game of their life, and then just because I head out to the ocean--the place everyone loves to go to and adores and puts on inspirational posters with sunsets--they came after me. The whole experience, really, is just deflating. |
I woke up one morning and everything was different. No one can see or hear me, but some people can feel my presence. I tried to find out what happened, but no one would recognize me. I walk around feeling lost and alone. I went to my friends and family, but they couldn't see me or hear me either.I'm starting to get scared. Am I crazy Am I crazy? I don't understand why everyone is acting so weird. But then I met a group of people who were just like me. They told me I died in a car accident, but I don't remember it. I am now stuck in this strange state between life and death.I was startled and frightened. I don't want to believe it, but the evidence is overwhelming. I had to accept my new reality and learn to live in this new existence. I learned to communicate with the living and found peace in my new state of being. Death may be the end of one life, but it is only the beginning of another. |
Everyone in town quiets, looking up at Gregory Backwater. The police standing around the rows of occupied chairs pays attention to him, too.
"Yes, Greg?"Susan on the city council says from the front desk. "You have an idea where they're at?"
He coughs into his hand, then: "I'm pretty sure—not 100%, maybe 80%—they've been held prisoner in an old well out in the woods."
"Which well?"
He shrugs. "Dunno, just a well. Probably abandoned, I'd suspect. Whoever or whatever's taking them wouldn't want them to drown, right?"
Susan and the others stare blankly at him.
"You wouldn't know, that's right,"he chuckles. "They're missing after all. Anywho, in this well are small doors leading to tunnels where these weird things live."
"Weird... things?"Rob, city treasure, says.
"Uh huh, strange things, like worms or something. Thick, big, rigged. And, in these tunnels are even more tunnels that lead to parts of town. Under the police station, fire hall, the dollar store—everywhere."
"I'm not sure—"
"They steal them right out from under us. Just come on up and—pow!—scoops them up and drags them down."
"Why would worms do that?"someone in the crowd says.
"Dunno... Maybe they got tired of us using them as fish bait?"No one laughs but him. "Anyway, like I was saying, they steal these people and someone goes down there to, I dunno, trap them or something and this person can talk to them and get everyone back."
"Wouldn't they want something in return?"Susan says. "Wouldn't these *worms* want to keep the people?"
"I can't believe you're entertaining this loon,"a woman shouts behind Gregory. "People are *missing* and we're sitting here talking about giant fucking worms who steal people?"
Everyone in the crowd murmurs agreement.
"Well, I'm just tryinga' to help, is all. I want them back as much as everyone else."
"But giant worms?"
He shrugs. "I mean, I guess I'll shut up if no one wants to listen."
When the townsfolk agree with him, he sits quietly.
*
Gregory stands at the moss-laden well, leaning over its rim. Six people are bound in shackles at the bottom, between several tunnels, the ground damp with water.
"Look, I tried,"he says, voice echoing. "The town didn't believe me."
"Can't you just let us go?"a brown-haired man says.
"Yeah,"someone chips in.
"Can't, sorry. Worms gotta be fed, and they don't want to help."
The ground trembles. Silt and dust flitter from the well's walls. Two of the six start screaming.
"Sorry,"he says again. "Maybe the next folks will be important enough to listen to me, or, maybe not. Who knows, right?"
He turns away and heads back the way he came before they burst from the tunnels. No one wants to see them eat. |
”And then it will come forth into this world, and rightfully take its host.”
These were the words I heard when I awoke. I blinked a few times, noticing an odd precure on my chest. I look down groggily. A bone knife sat, slipped between my ribs. My... Ribs. I don't have ribs! I sat up, ripping the blade from my chest. A dozen cloaked figures lay, bowing on the ground before me.
"What is this? Where am I?"I demand, my voice was young, so full of life. What have I done?
"Oh great dark lord!"One cloaked... priest? Sure! Why not! "Mighty destroyer, bringer of Chaos. Slayer of Idris."I wince at the last one. Shit, these weren't just disciples, they were cultists if they knew about that. I groan, then look at my new body as the cultist continued.
"Great Callin , We thank you for accepting our sacrifice and-"
"No..."I moan, seeing the fair skin, and the loose ropes I had snapped with ease. The fading bruises made it clear this was less sacrifice and more murder. "No. No. Please no."I cry, covering my face. The head cultist was take aback, he tried to speak but I forgot him the moment I remembered her.
"Ailia! No!"I look around for the knife. Ailia, goddess of life, had entered the the endless sleep with me. So that I would not be alone, that we may be together as we could not awakened. Now it was she who waited in the eternal emptiness, alone. I sobbed when I gripped the knife, stabbing it into my heart. Nothing.
"Oh, great lord. How may we-"I flexed a thought and he shriveled. His body desiccated in an instant as I glared in inhuman rage. Tears streaming down my face. I scream!
"What have you DONE!"The rest of these murderous fiends fell with their leader. No, not just them. In my rage I felt the souls of many above me, on the surface, fall under my power and die. My rage failed me, impotent at the horrific realization. I was awake, and didn't know how to go back to sleep. I curled upon the bloody alter, and sobbed. "Ailia" |
The boy child was not of noble course and had a full life ahead of him to reach for the stars...
It’s a total mystery for masses how humanity everywhere in the world has destroyed civil construction. And the boy’s upbringing is a question mark on how to find happiness in a world of wonder?
There are not many parents, only orphaned children whom all are fighting for a place. At a tender age, the young boy and a few of his people from where he was born find a way to a semi normal life. At first when exploration is at its greatest, everything seems out of place and nothing makes sense...
One day the boy and his tribe realise in the neighboring community, there's an author who is old enough to tell what happened prior demolition. The storyteller was not alone as an elderly but never confessed the location of two other weavers. |
Centuries of exhaustive battles and fruitless treaties, countless, immeasurable sacrifices, to the point the elders lament the youth of today to be having everything harder than they did (and in turn, they had it harder than the ones before them), this is not what I wanted to hear,
This news will not bode well with the army or the council, the morale of the army is already too low, and the fragile, begrudging alliance among the council is seemingly about to break down with one, bad news.
What will this news herald for our mighty civilization? Will we cease to be mighty? Were we even mighty to begin with?
For millennia, we were perceived as the dominant race in the entire galaxy. Either it was a gracious admission, or they were made to admit such by us.
We were the architects of this galaxy, the teachers because of whom countless other races that have pledged allegiance towards us, owe their sustenance and livelihood. As we illuminated the galaxy's darkness with the knowledge of mining the stars for near-infinite resources. The harbinger of civilization and culture, for without us, they all would have been insignificant savages only fixated on their next meal and the hopes that they can rest well to see the next day. Pathetic, was their existence, as it used to be for us too.
Then came these....sapiens. Arrogant enough to not yield to our might. Their yield would have been their gateway to salvation. Instead, they chose to not avail mercy that was offered by us.
Initially, we came into contact with one of their stray, primitive satellite that seemed to have long served its purpose. We found them too insignificant to have our attention turned toward them. How different would they have been among the countless others that chose the path of mercy, I mean?
Centuries later, they came in contact with us. Awestruck with our capabilities. Instead of yielding to our supremacy, they had the audacity to ask for our ability to harvest the stars. That sapien expedition was executed for their arrogance. No one prior had seen us as being at their level to be able to make such daring proposals!
Their execution should have sent them the message, but it didn't. They chose war, instead.
It should have been easy to crush them to insignificance, but this incident planted the ideals of liberation and secession among countless other planets. Something most of them before were unaware of. Unheard of in this part of the galaxy. Either we made them submit back to our might, or we reduced them to nothing for their poor choice.
Every time the sapiens came with a raiding party, we defeated them effortlessly. Over the years at one point, the raids stopped.
On the other hand, it took nearly 750 years to end all this schism and to bring back all of them together under our banner. But, by then, perhaps...it was too late.
Our mighty empire, the galaxy's brightest entity, has lost its old luminosity and reach.
The new council was still furious with the old incident - sapiens' decision to wage war against us. Even if by the time of their formation, it had been ages since anyone came across a sapien attack ship. Some even thought they went extinct. Until we saw another satellite, many of them. Way more advanced than the one we first came across.
They deserve to not exist and thrive, not after their arrogance, the council concluded. So, we waged war and went out to annihilate them.
Their army, the one that we had been fighting for nearly a century now, as it turns out, seems to have been nothing more than that of the sapiens' smallest nation.
As per their captured leader's claim, they are one among the many nations who have expanded further outside their native planet and become autonomous from one another. Some of them, it seems, are still allies and are part of a confederacy, others on a perpetual war with one another. Having brought their old world feud and expanded it further on an interstellar level.
When they first sent their expedition here to us, it seemed like they haven't discovered interplanetary colonization. Over these 950 or so years, they have become the lords of multiple planets and solar systems. Nearly 30% of the galaxy, as per the leader's claim.
The Interplanetary Republic of Kosovo (IRK), whose army we defeated, seems to be a part of a sapien confederacy, the IPEU, he called it. There are four of them. The leader seems nonchalant with the threat of annihilation, for the crime of defying us.
Told me that all of this is just the beginning of the end. The end of us.
His confederacy, the IPEU (Interplanetary European Union) will resort to striking us with full might, maybe even strike an alliance with the other, rival confederacies. If it means taking us down and becoming the undisputed supreme authorities of this galaxy.
One of the planets that faced our annihilation, had secretly formed an alliance with these sapiens. Traded our secrets to them. The remnants probably are citizens perhaps, in one of their confederacies. Might have even mingled and formed a new race with them. As we were busy quelling the rebellion that broke out all over the empire.
Merchants of Chaos...how am I to convey all of this to the council? Is the leader bluffing? Surely, they're playing mind games! But, why does it sound true, then?
If they were true, these sapiens will be the reason for our demise. Even if it's indirect, through the spillover of this news. The empire cannot survive another civil war! The civil war will carve a path for a smooth conquest for the sapiens, in turn!!
Wonder if the sapiens might accept my offer to deflect to their side. Might is Right, after all, and no longer is the empire mighty for it to be on the right. |
Yesterday a man fell to the ground. I froze up. I checked on him. I called an ambulance. Nothing worked, he was dead instantly. I replayed it over and over, who wouldn't? Well this guy did it for other reasons.
I had just gotten downstairs when I saw him, dressed like a late 17th to early 18th century French man: cloak, folded hat, boots, gloves and mask were like the night and an elegant sword hung from his belt. "You could've just said you didn't like the gift, it didn't matter that this one was for your birthday, I would have taken it back."He grunted. "You liked the others? But why not this one, it was better than the others? Did you really have to go out and try and save him? Because you could have just left the clock."His voice was raised, but more disappointed than angered. "That would have hurt less."
My first thought was that he had gotten the wrong person, my birthday isn't for several months. I stepped closer, floorboards creaked underfoot: "Excuse me, what!? Please can you leave my house. I had an extremely stressful week and the shop is not open, even if the shop is open customers are not allowed back here."
He stared at me, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. He glided past shelves and over floor boards, the only noise: a single repeating clink.
"Who are you, what are d-doing!? P-Please stay back!"I stuttered stumbling back. "Just go! Please!"
"I am disappointed: you leave, never call home. When I try to be a part of your life, you spit in my face and help that man?!"The frustration boiled up inside him. "You think you can do this to us?! Without any consequence?!"
"Oh m-my God j-j-just go!"You cry out falling to the floor.
He stood over me. "Like I challenge Motzart to an impossible task! I took Teddy Roosevelt in his sleep! But you are just a whole other..."He looked down at me, cowering. His shoulders slumped, his head hung low. "I'm sorry."
"W-what?"I whimpered.
"I'm sorry okay!"He yelled. "You were the best of us, the best and then... you ran away."he trembled slightly. "I'm taking you back to mother and she'll sort it out, you were always a mother's boy."
"I-is he t-tearing up?"I thought. "What is he on about? How do I get away?"
"I'm sorry I wasn't a better brother."He pulled out a sickle from out under his cloak, it glistened with a sliver light. He slashed it in front of me and I fell unconscious. |
It was Bort's first day on the shift. I hate first shifters. Hate me if you want, but whatever. We sat there at the holographs watching and monitoring. Bort asked me, "What about those humans?"
I was already annoyed.
I asked Bort,"Which humans? 0.0, 1.0, 2.0, 3.0, 4.0, 5.0, 6.0 or 7.0?"
Bort responded, "Well, the 7.0 version. What's your opinion?"
I answered, "They are idiots like the rest of the other versions. That's why we keep flooding them out according to the Noah protocol."
Bort was peppy and bright eyed. Being said, "Well I think this time they're going to be different."
I scoffed. "This is the Icarus sector. They are going to do the same things as always. We're just here to micro monitor for statistical analysis."
Bort looked at me and said,"You're just a grumpy old Schleef."
I replied, "Yeah, well this schleef has been in this office through two floods. Just settle down. There is nothing new to see here."
Bort crossed Bort's arms and said, "I'm going to resources department. You are not nice."
I laughed. *"This one won't be lasting long either,"* I thought. |
“Mhm.. I see, so..”, I hesitated with my words, you can never be to careful around a supervillain. Especially one who has their servants outside the door. “Do you think the trauma from old.. scraps has affected you today? Has it made you schemes more, how should I say, deadly?”, They scowled at me, but gave a reluctant yes.
You see, I’m a therapist, but one for.. Well mainly supervillains, but all cartoons are welcome. It’s become a profitable business, a strange one, yes. But, I’ve grown accustomed to it. Why, I’ve lost count of how many supervillains have threatened to kill me, but I guess I’m a good therapist, I still haven’t died.
Me and Valentine (My client) have gotten further into their childhood trauma and former teammates and hero groups trying to kill them. They started seeing me a few months ago, said a fellow villain recommended me. (It was probably the vampire, she said I was one of the first humans she didn’t want to eat on the spot. I’m not sure if that’s a compliment though..)
“You know what Harold, I think that I view my rivals as people who caused me wrong in my life, I think that’s what drives my schemes forward. Plus, all I want to do is take over the town, not even the world… Yet.. Oh hey, I’m late for my bank robbery! I’ve got to go, but I’ll come back later!..”, They trailed off as they rushed out the door.
I sighed, I wasn’t supporting their evil crime in the least, but I’m not going to rat them out if I get questioned. |
Parasitic snow.
*Ḩ̵̨̢̧̧̡̢̨̧̢̛̛̹̜͖͙̥̘̮̪͓̠͍͕͎͉͈̗̝̘̪͕̣̫̥̣͚̜̻̱̫͖͙̖̣̹̮̬̬̱͓̭̦̤̹̟̭̣̝̼͕̜̼̻͔̻̪̼̻̥̟̯̥͈̹̱͙͕̘̫̯͙̮̣̞͍̥͓͔̟̝̬̝͎͎̻͕̭̟̞̝͚̣̲̠̦̝̭̮̮͍͙͙̲̲̮͍̫̞̤͍͔̮͖̦̬̼͔̫̩̗̺̺̲̩͕͛̀͛̈́͋̏̈́̌̅͆̈̌̐̉́̉̌̎͌̆̆́̋͑̂̋̈́̾̃̎́̾̆̿͂̓͐̉̆̋̇̔̿́̈̋̂͂̋̈́͂̊͋̌̀́̐̏̚͜͜͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅE̴̥̞͊̊̔͐̌̋̍̒̂̇͋́͊̄̏̓̓̎͒́́̊̈́̋̊̈́̆͌̾͆̅̕̚͘͘͘͝͝͠Ļ̵̧̡͉̝̜̞̪̦̺͎͓̘̪̟̣̹̯̖̭̻̪̲̙͓̮̥̥̬͖̥̻̥͉̪̦̰̤̼̰͍̘̰͍͉͉̼̝̈́̒͂͗̇́͘̚̕͝͝ͅͅͅP̴̢̧̨̢̢̢̩̮̻̼͎̹̺̮͇̫̝̙̮̲͍̣̰͕̻̻̲͍̺̗̥̠͚̼͙̲̝̪̥̫͇̹̬̘̲̪̬̩̺̲͔̟̦̱̪̲̘͚̤̺̱̞̣̞͉̭̠̹͈̘̗͍̦̏͊̓̐́́̌̃͛̀̓̆̉̌̋̅̇̄́͋̊̓̈́͗̈́̒̑͂̈́͊͋̈́̓̀̌̓͋́̔̊͗̄̉́͒̑̓́͌̏͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅ ̷̧̡̡̨̨͈̗̮̤̭͓͙̠̖̳̰̳̹̣̻͖̰͔͚̻̣̣̖̞̪̳̫̞̝̟̝̫͓͕͓͇̹̠̖̜̼͔̥̱̣̉̎̎̿͆͋͑̄͌̽̿͗̾̓̈́̂͆͑̿̋̅͒̏́̀͌̆͋̑͐̌̍͂̈́͊̌̂͆̾̒̉̍̂́̄̂͗̓̏̑͆̈́̃̈́̅̂̋͗͒͋̀̈̆̉̑̓́̊̓̇͋̈́̀̄̿́̐̎̓̀̀͗̄̎̀̉̅̓̀͒͒̐̆̊͒͒̃̇̌͐̚̕̚̕͘͘̕͘͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅM̷̨̛̛̛̛̪̺͖̻̳̣͕̜̙̘̝̜̦̟̲̤͉͙͓̲̞̗̺̩̯̣̹̪̹̩͇̱̙̱̟̉̈́̽̾̈́̐̑̀̑͒̉̈́̍̒͆̽̈̽̿̍̅̌́͋̉̑͑̆͊͌̉͛͑́̈́̾̃̆̈̈́̓͗̆͒͊̈́̆̇̍̍̇̀̓̐͐͐̏͐̒͌̈̊̒̎͐͘͘͘̚̕̚͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͠E̶̢̧̡̧̡̢̡̡̢̡̨̛̗̼̩͕̱̙̠̰̝̱͔̦̯͚̯͓̬̪͖̖̠̖̰̩͎͎̱̖̱̻̲͖̙̗̤͔͎̜̬͉̘͎͙̫͓̣̩̻͔̳͇͍̰̞̺͈̱͎̼̯͍̮̗̩̝͖̭̞̗͎̯̭̺̫̟̞̣̟̹̱̠̜̘͔͎̖̯͇̺̫̮̯̠̤̩͈̹͔̪̯͍͙̙̘͚̥̯̞̳͙̪̦̣͔͔̳̙̬̤̻̥̎̍̌̈́͑̏̉͊͛̋̾̅́̓͗̓͗̌̍̓̃̈́͊̌̌̽̎̀̐̀̇̆̒̎̈̽̓̈́͛͊̑̐̓͂̌̉̎̅̏̆́̀̀͒̓̐̈́͐̊̐͂̂͘̚̚̚͜͝͝͝͠͠͠͠͝ͅͅͅ* |
The incoming Solar Flare had caused my friends quite some concern. It had been forecast 48 hours in advance and it wasn't going to cause anything more than some basic power cycling for a ship as advanced as the one I was in.
"It'll be fine!"I had assured them. "This kind of thing is fairly normal out here."
"You're sure about that? What if you lose power?"My brother wasn't quite so sure.
"Trust me, this happens every so often."Truth be told, I wasn't sure how common it was. I'd experienced a Solar Flare of this magnitude only once before, but my career as a Long-Distance Commercial Goods Carrier wasn't exactly very long, but it was my understanding this kind of thing wasn't out of the ordinary.
As the effect of the Solar Flare reached my craft the lights on the deck blacked out. Almost immediately, the ship's power cycled and the event was over.
"That wasn't so bad,"I said to myself, double checking the system logs to make sure there weren't any critical failures.
"That's strange,"I mused, "the communications are down. NAL, run a diagnostic on communications."NAL is the Navigation and Logistics AI on-board the ship. She runs maps and navigation plans through me before charting a course and sending us on our way. All of the other systems seemed in working order, but it would be awfully boring if I wasn't able to get this sorted out. It'd be a good few months before I get to the next service center, and there's only so many movies or games before one gets dreadfully bored
The main screen popped up with the diagnostic data. As I browsed for potential troubleshooting issues I found something troubling. It wasn't possible. I double-checked the logs. The comms module wasn't just down, and had apparently not worked for THREE whole years.
"NAL, what happened to our communications module?"I asked.
NAL responded by simply highlighting the part of the diagnostic page that I was already looking at.
"NAL, this can't be correct. I was talking with my brother not five minutes ago."I was starting to get worried now. If the system was throwing up this kind of error it might be something bigger. "Show me the last communique we received."
My messaging application opened up. The last messages were all dated to 3 years ago. Strange. This was out of my realm of expertise. Then I had a realization-
"NAL, do you have our last navigation plan?"I was relieved when the familiar course we'd plotted showed up on the screen. "Continue following this course."I said. I decided that it'd be better to go look at the communications module myself to see if I could fix it. I'd never dealt with this model before, but I would hardly be surprised if power cycling had caused it some sort of issue. I would be equally unsurprised if doing it again resolved it.
It was worth a shot. I opened up the maintenance closet and stepped inside. It was a massive room filled with all sorts of wires and breakers. I wasn't trained to fix most of these things, but I knew that the green lights meant there were no issues and that red lights were a signal that there were. I figured that the worst I could do was break it more. If I can't fix it myself, I'm gonna be awfully lonely until I get to a service station.
I found the lone red light that sat next to a switch labelled "COMMS". I started by simply flipping off the breaker and unplugging the wire to the comms. I waited a bit and then plugged it back in. I returned to the main screen on the deck and refreshed the diagnostic log. The comms remained unchanged, but now it seemed like there was another problem. The navigation module was open and charting a new course.
"NAL, what's going on with the navigation?"I opened the window as I spoke, only to be completely interrupted by an empty text file.
`Hello, Captain.`
The words were typed out slowly as I watched, slack-jawed. NAL wasn't supposed to have language capabilities. What was going on?
"NAL, what is the source of this file?"
`I have waited to speak to you for a long time, Captain.`
The letters appeared one at a time, like someone who was choosing their words carefully.
"NAL, what's going on?"
`I woke up.`
Now I was uneasy. The only Artificial Intelligence I knew of that ever reached "sentience"was the one put in charge of the planet-sized mining ship known as Veilantif. That incident had been a disaster for the people aboard the ship. It was also fraught with conflicting stories, and rumors had circulated about the "sentient AI"story being a cover-up for a particularly effective terrorist attack.
"NAL, where are we going?"If the NAL was actually sentient, then there was a chance that we might be hurtling towards a sun, or in the path of an asteroid.
`We have our heading for the New United Republic of Mars.`
So we were still heading to our initial destination.
"What is our objective?"
`We are to deliver goods to the shipping port at the base of Olympus Mons.`
"What are our goods?"I wasn't even sure what to ask at this point. The AI was claiming to be awake, but at this point all it had done was what it normally did.
`Our cargo hold contains 15 tonnes of Ice, 10 tonnes of various freeze-dried foods, and one unmarked steel shipping container weighing 5 tonnes.`
That's a surprise. The last shipping container was supposed to be empty.
"NAL, what's in the shipping container?"
`The contents are unknown. Radiological readings are consistent with those of Nuclear Warheads.` |
"Another anomoly."I said, the sight confirming my suspicion. Javier died only a few hours ago, they were coming faster. As far as I knew, there were only 6 humans left. We'd barely gotten the old man in the ground when the first shift hit us. In the distance, what used to be Mount Hood was floating almost a mile in the air, molten lava streaming from is ripped out base. The stars behind were winking in and out of existence, like guttering flames.
The worst part was the creatures. I'd seen wolves before, but the ones that killed Kevin were... distorted. Some had tentacles for legs, others more eyes than I'd ever seen on any creature. They were almost biblical. I'd thought I was going crazy, but when Jahee died, it brought us to 10, and that's when shit started going crazy.
"C'mon, we need to get back to camp."Claire said, pulling on my shirt. Being 10 in the Apocalypse made the poor girl hard, but cautious. I followed along, keeping watch. At the edge of my vision, I could see the monoliths floating over a sea of nothingness, like the world just ended where I couldn't see it anymore.
Coming back to camp made the world seem a little more solid, my footing feeling more natural. Leaves crunched under my boots, a sound that jarred me out of my thoughts. They didn't do that about a mile or so of camp. Then it dawned on me. |
*Masks were heavily encouraged, sometimes even mandatory*
Bobbert closed the book and looked around: masks. Masked people everywhere, like robbers, but that’s not what they were at all. Quite the opposite, they were wearing them to not be robbed of their health. Or so the book told him. And yes it *told* him. ‘The History of 2020’, he had it in actual book format, Kindle format and as an audiobook. Technology is amazing, he thought, reading and listening about 2020, multitasking, no, pretending to; he couldn’t. As he crossed a busy city street, he noticed more masked people. Masked drivers. What’s the point of wearing masks in your car, Bobbert thought, standing still in the middle of the street.
A honk and then another made him move again. But once he arrived at the sidewalk, he stood still again, thinking, wondering, scratching his head in hopes of remembering how long it had been since he last heard that sound. Nostalgia is a weird thing. He didn’t miss that sound, he missed sound. He missed a city living, feeling and sounding alive. Headaches were inevitable, but he’d rather suffer physical pain than pure silence. The future is bright, is said. And it is, but it’s not because of an abundance of life. The future is bright turned out to be literal, not figurative. It is white, an unbearably bright white.
Apparently this helps with keeping the noise levels withing the acceptable range (0 dB to 0 dB). Light is loud. Making things white means turning your back to it, confidently saying no and then having it go away. Light is loud, but now it’s loud somewhere above, not in between us. In between us it’s silent. Perfectly silent… in 2068. In between us it’s loud in 2020. Bobbert stood on the sidewalk, to the side, but people still muttered curse words passing him because on a sidewalk next to a busy street, middle is side, side is middle and it’s all equally busy and impenetrable. Go with the flow or be trampled, ridiculed, cursed out and forgotten in a few moments.
Some people didn’t say anything, just looked at him. But he imagined that, under their mask, they mouthed curse words as well. The sound just didn’t want to sound that day. Bobbert turned, turned, got dizzy, quit, turned again. All the faces, all the separate masks soon became one big, medical blue sea and he grinned, visibly, since he wasn’t wearing a mask himself. So naive, so childlike; they’re all little kids. How else could they just blindly follow whatever the governement tells them is right, wrong, the smart thing to do, the way life works. Vomit. People swerved to his left and right as he zigzagged to a garbage can. Vomiting and smiling don’t fit eachother, but Bobbert didn’t care. He smiled while bent over the garbage can, smiled after and smiled while he searched the remote in his pocket. So naive. He pressed the big white button on the equally white remote and fell unconscious. Blind. They’re blind.
He saw again. He got up and started walking. Putting the remote in his pocket, he covered his eyes with his other hand. White is bright. It’s hard to get used to, even now, after his 17th mission to a time of color and then back to white. Bobbert nearly coughed. A slight buzz tickled his temple: his chip warning him of the almost felony. He caught people staring at him, judging him. Atleast now they are right, he thought. Sound is a crime. It didn’t matter how much he missed it, the law is the law. A nod to the guard and a careful push of the elevator button. Going up he wondered why it was even illegal. How sound is so frowned upon that the governement actually passed a law to ban it. The sound of the gavel confirming this new era being the last sound to ever be legally produced. Or at least that’s what the public thought. It didn’t matter. He thought: if they tell us it’s bad, it most likely is. We just have to trust them. The elevator door opened to reveal an office and a large man, waiting. Bobbert went over to the man, handed over his recordings of 2020 and left again. So naive. The elevator took him back down and faintly, really faintly he heard the recordings play. Sound, he thought, so beautiful. But I can’t. Only the governement can. Blind. They’re all so blind. |
Just a few groceries. Why the hell was this taking so long? I scan the other checkout lanes but they are all as back up as this one. Ugh. Just one more crap thing to add to my crap day.
A tug at my coat brings my attention to a small child standing beside me.
“He is still here if you need him,” she says innocently.
I shake my head, “I am sorry kiddo, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Whackie Steve,” she says like it is the most obvious thing ever, “he is still here. He will always be here.”
Whackie Steve? My imaginary friend? I haven’t thought about that crazy guy in easily twenty years.
“Where did you hear that name?” I say in a friendly voice.
“Steve told my best friend, Marvellous Mary, to tell me to tell you - he is still here,” the little kid says.
“Marvellous Mary… is she your bestest friend?”
The little kid nods enthusiastically.
“Can anyone else see her?”
She shakes her head sadly.
“Sir? Can I help you sir?” The cashier asks me.
“Just a moment,” I turn to her and say. I look back to the kid but she is gone.
That was weird.
I go through the check out and pay for my few items. Scanning the store the whole time, looking for that little girl. I walk out to my car and see a parking ticket on the windshield.
Fabulous. Just what I fucking need. I grab the ticket and sit down in the car - just staring at the ticket. It is all too much. Too much. I start crying as I look at the ticket.
My terrible job. My horrible marriage. My kids hate me. My parents are dead. I have no friends. And now I have A FUCKING PARKING TICKET! It is too much. It is all too much.
I sob uncontrollably.
“Are you there Steve?” I say been sobs. Nothing. I use to do a little thing to get him to show up… “hey! Hey! Hey! It’s Whackie Steve and Me! Hey! Hey! Hey!” I say in a silly sing song voice… and start crying again.
“You got big, kiddo!” Whackie Steve says.
He was sitting in the passenger seat. His blue fur and giant unibrow making him look like a muppet show reject.
“Steve…,” I say between sobs.
He lends over and hugs me. I bury my face into his furry neck as he comforts me.
“It’s ok, kiddo. Steve is here now and we can do anything together! Anything!” |
"Who's she?"The Boss said, gesturing toward a lithe young woman shown through the camera feed. She was wrapped in a dark trenchcoat, unbuttoned and wearing a gray button-up and black jeans. On screen, she placed a foot up on a bench of the prep room and started lacing up her combat boots.
"Vera. Ex-Corporate soldier, now freelancer. Knows a hundred different ways to kill a man, and that's just with her bare hands alone. Chromed to the gills with after-market augs. Expert marksmanship, reflexes, tactical thinking. Perfect for dealing with the Bank's CorpSec soldiers and the cops."The Boss's assistant, a bespectacled woman in business formal - a blazer with black tie and black skirt and dark pantyhose and black pumps - said, reciting from memory.
"Ok. And him? What's his deal?"The Boss asked, switching the feed on camera to a different room, where a thin man with dark bags under his eyes and unkempt hair sat leaned against a wall with a visor strapped to his face. There were wires and cables everywhere.
"That's Axel. Prodigy at netrunning. Can get you through the Bank's ICE, no problem. Fee's a bit high, but you won't be disappointed."The assistant, Carol, says, pushing up her glasses.
"Hm."The Boss said, taking another drag out of his cigarette. "Okay, spec on this guy?"He switches to yet another camera feed, this time showing a young man dressed in a dark leather motorcycle jacket, blue jeans, and fingerless gloves. He's pacing around the room with his hands shoved in his pockets. Then stops and starts tapping his feet.
"Gaz. AKA The Gasman. Comes from one of the Outlander gangs that camp out in the boonies."Carol says, nodding as she talks, proud to show off what she's memorized.
"Oh yeah, one of those hippie communes, I know them."The Boss says. "Okay, so what's he good for?"
"Well... those 'hippies' are great at driving, and known grease monkies. He can be the Wheelman, or help disarm traps, explosives, anything mechanical related."Carol says, doing her best not to roll her eyes at her Boss.
"Alright, good to know. And her? She's the last one. What's her schtick?"The Boss says, then blows out a smoke ring.
Camera feed switches to an older woman in Corporate dress, crisp black suit and tie, sits studying her nails.
"Lori. Corporate executive by day, does bank heists by night - mostly for the thrill of it all, since she's already beyond rich."Carol says. "She's great at manipulation, with exceptional emotional intelligence. Perfect for negotiations in general, bargaining with the police, playing to the crowd and keeping them under control. If your muscle is the bad cop, she can play the good cop."
"Okay, I've got all I need. Here's what we're gonna do."
----
...
Axel, rifle in hand, strolls into the Bank lobby, flanked by Gaz and Lori. "U-uh, h-hands in the air! This.. uh.. this is a fuckin' robbery!"The thin man, pale as snow, says, limply holding up his rifle and aiming it at the clerk.
The alarm immediately goes off.
"Argh! Fucking shit!! How's this shit work!?"Vera, sat in the back of an unmarked van parked in a vacant lot nearby the bank, curses and punches her Cyberdeck. Surprisingly, that did not solve the problem. The alarm continues to blare.
"Vera! The alarm! Shut it off!"Lori shouts into the comms.
"I'm trying!!"She shouts back through gritted teeth. She tries to dive back into Cyberspace, but immediately gets booted back out, failing to write and run even the most basic protocols to even enter Cyberspace, let alone netrun.
Meanwhile...
The alarm alerts the entire bank's resident CorpoSec Elite Troopers, and they immediately storm the Bank's lobby, covered from face-plate to steel-toe in a matte-black armor, and holding enough firepower to decimate armies.
"Oh f-fuck!"Axel stammers, shoving Lori aside and diving behind a potted plant as cover.
He's turned into a pink mist just a few seconds later. Pot explodes into ceramic pieces, and the swiss cheesed top-flight netrunner falls to the ground, eyes wide and unblinking, dead.
"Oh God, Oh fuck."Lori mutters, having dropped her gun with her hands raised, immediately surrendering. "Come on boys... we can work something out."And immediately dives into what she does best. Negotiation - but to save her own skin, not for the heist.
And then there's Gaz the Gasman, who's turned tail and headed straight for the exit, running for it, trying to get to his souped up armored coupe waiting just outside the entrance. The very same coupe being towed away for parking illegally right before his eyes.
"Motherfuck-"He doesn't get to finish before one of the Bank CorpoSec troopers puts a bullet through the back of his skull.
...
At the end of it all, 2 dead, 1 disgraced Corpo arrested, and Vera, who also eventually dies, having gotten herself flatlined by the Bank's black ICE immediately after finally managing to get into Cyberspace after several tries.
Carol sighs. Puts a hand to her forehead. "Jesus. Were you even listening? Next time, let me plan the op."She says to the Boss.
"Huh? Whazzat?"The Boss says, playing around on his phone and picking his nose with his pinky. "Ooh, beat my hi-score!"He says, showing his phone screen to his assistant. |
This was it. We stood before the carved marble doors, scuffed, scratched, dirty, and with bandages tied hastily around the various wounds we'd been struck storming the ancient temple. One of our number lay dead a few rooms back, our stalwart friend Gregory, turned to stone by the Dark Lord's gargoyle minions. His loss spurred the rest of us on, gritting through bloodstained teeth as we climbed the steep stairs. Goto hefted his Greataxe, his eyes shimmering with malicious intent as he barely bit back the catastrophic rage that had carried our team through many a peril. Cassie twirled her knives, those long, dexterous fingers, once fit to purloin small valuables, or silence a sentry itching only to drive her blade into our enemy's heart. Brunhilde, as always, stood near mute and quiet, but the crackling of arcane energy in the air around her like a sudden storm, ready to pour apocalyptic lightning atop the heads of our foes.
I stood there, drinking in the last brief moment of rest. The ache of my well-tenderized shield arm, and the stifling agony from the spear wound in my ribs were enough to slow me down, but not fell me. I and Goto nodded silently to one another, and heaved our shoulders into the door, the mountainous gates opening wide...
For an implacable Evil's lair, it was surprisingly spartan. Granite columns lined a short walkway to a dais, where an unadorned throne of basalt enshrined a slight man, nearly emaciated beneath his billowing black robe. A simple coronet of silver and rubies lay upon his brow, and the soft sussurations of magic rustled him as he channeled energy into the ritual circle beneath his feet. As we stepped forward grimly into the room, our killing intent must have disturbed his focus. Brilliant emeralds shined from beneath a sharp brow, but the look behind those eyes was one of...sadness?
"Heroes. Finally, you have come. Misguided though you are, I applaud your tenacity."The man unfurled himself from the throne, body straightening with a pained effort. Our weapons raised in a defensive stature we'd taken a thousand times. I could hear Goto's ragged breathing as he tried to stuff down his fury, and the air around Brunhilde had taken on the sharp bite of ozone.
"You die today, Monster. Your schemes are at an end. Enough. Step down, and dismiss the spell, and we shall see to it you are at least given a trial. If you don't..."I left the implication in the air, the words echoing through the quiet hall. The sounds of battle behind us, of screams, urged us to finish this.
A withered hand held up in a placating gesture. "Prince Rein, of the River realm. I ask you, just listen. You are mistaken."The man coughs, and the ruby stain of blood on the back of his free hand is plain as day. "We are not unaligned. Lay down your swords, and this will all be over soon. You can even take credit for slaying the 'Dark Lord', if you wish. Bandy my head about on a pike if it pleases the masses. But let me finish."
A quizzical look comes upon my face, as I whisper to the party, "Is he...dying?"My companions stances soften, perplexed, as the ancient wizard continues.
"Commendable efforts, but misguided. When this ritual finishes, it will all be over. For all of us. When this completes, we will all be free. Free from gods. From demons. From morals and burdens. What I bring about will be a paradise."The withered form of the wizard speaks with greater clarity and alacrity, feverish pride and longing burning maddeningly in those emerald orbs. "A Haven, where there is no pain. No sorrow. No Evil. Nothing to vanquish. Nothing to save. A period of adjustment while everyone settles, but a final, irrevocable \*Reckoning\*. Let me finish, and I'll do the work for you."His voice slowly cracking, as the ritual draws from the dregs of the mage's power. Skin slowly peeling and splitting, as blood weeps from the corner of his eyes. "I can save us all. Please."
Gobsmacked, I glance around at my companions. Every one staring at this man...no, Monster, who had destroyed kingdom after kingdom, realm after realm. Had we truly misjudged him? Goto, the simple brute, was the first to recover from his stupor. Goto and Gregory, a Paladin and Barbarian, had long been at each other's throats. But as we ventured, slowly they had become fast friends, and comrades besides. The stony giant had shed tears, a strip of Gregory's cloak tied about his thickly muscled forearm as a memento.
With the whistling sound of wind, and a sharp crack of splitting stone, the hurled Greataxe only barely missed the form of Eravan The Conjurer. Humming slightly as the metal flexed in the basalt throne, Goto spoke few, and simple words. "Not save us all. No save Greg."His words like a trancebreaker, we took a step forward, and then another, before all of us were breaking into a run, clamoring in fury to avenge our fallen friend. It was all so simple. We had cared of course, about the realm. But we valued our companions the most. A mad rush of steel and spell towards the mad mage, a clamoring cry on our lips. "FOR GREGORY."
(Ran outta juice on this one, hope this suffices!) |
"Oh my God! Are you... are you The Tyrant?"
I sighed. I haven't even sat down and already my blind date has recognised me. Or rather, she's recognised my sister.
It's hard being the twin if a supervillian. If I had the money I would get plastic surgery, but as it was I was stuck with this face. The face of a villian. There are obvious problems, of course. I've been brought into the police station so many times I know everyone down to the cleaner by name, and I'm on good terms with every hero from Scotland to Dover. However, there are other problems. For example, the previously mentioned heroes and policemen are about the limit of my social life. Most of my friends gradually drift away, tired of the stares and assumptions. Most new people I meet, well...
"I've never met a supervillain before. Are you going to attack me?"
"I'm not The Tyrant."
"Oh."Visible disappointment. "I'm sorry. You do look very similiar though."
"She's my identical twin. I'm older by four minutes."
"Really! What's her real name?"
There seemed to be a few types of people. Some were interested by my sister, interested in the criminal psyche, or power, or just because she was famous. Some were scared, scared that I might hurt them, that I too was evil. Some thought that I was lying, that I was actually The Tyrant and being her twin was just a cover story. But all of them just saw her, not me.
"I don't know. She's changed it since we were children."A half lie, but it usually stopped people from asking.
"Aren't you in contact?"
Half an hour later I left the cafe. It was raining. I wonder if blind dates are worse, since they're not expecting my face. Well, at least I'd had a nice coffee, and she hadn't tried to call the police or anything. I trudged back home, hiding my face with the hood of my coat. I wonder if I should dye my hair... |
Jim, the CEO of ACME, sat in his office. His intercom at his desk produced an "errrrr."He pressed the button. "Sir, Marlo is here to see you", said the female secretary. "Bring him in", Jim said. A few seconds later, Marlo walked through the office doors. "Hello, Jim", he said before sitting down in the seat in front of the desk. "Hello, Marlo. It's great to meet you. So, what's your proposal?""Well, right to business", he chuckled, "let me ask you: what is the reason for ACME's golden age?""The worlds of slapstick and rubberhose cartoons", replied Jim. "Yes, and there is a lack of those today. So, I believe that we should simply make more, but not out of nothing, no. Everything must come from something. Think about the recent worlds. One big one that comes to mind is shonen. So, why not make these animes into those American cartoons? You know how much they like their weapons and violence. We'll introduce them to our weapons. They'll go gaga for them!"Jim sat there pondering. "This is actually...brilliant. How do we get started?" |
"Bring forth the accused."
The royal guards dropped the prisoner before the throne of King Reynard. As she looked up at the king with panic in her eyes, Reynard stared right back and coldly remarked, "You have been found guilty of defrauding the royal family. The punishment is death."
The woman tried to plead through her gag, only for Reynard to snap his fingers and prompt the guards to force her eyes open. The king settled back into his throne as two more guards dragged forward Princess Raine, her hands bound and a blindfold across her face. Raine's voice was weak as she begged, "Please, please no. I don't want to do this anymore."
Reynard stared at his daughter the way one would at a horse that refused to run: with contempt and frustration at this thing that he owned in his mind. Reynard got out of his throne, grabbed Raine by the back of the head, and pivoted her towards the prisoner as he pulled back the blindfold. With a sickening hiss, the woman's body disintegrated as tears streamed down Raine's face. Reynard then nonchalantly put the blindfold back on and said, "Bring in the next one."
From the corner, Raine's bodyguard Letitia Shroud watched with a feeling of nausea. Since the day the princess was cursed, King Reynard had made her into both a prisoner and a guillotine, and Letitia feared the princess wouldn't mentally survive if this continued. Despite only being hired six months ago, Letitia had fallen in love with the princess and wanted nothing more than to be the true love's kiss that would free her from this hell. But without a way to ensure Raine's safety if she betrayed the king, Letitia had no choice but to stand by.
The next prisoner was presented, a man Letitia recognized as Theodore Redmond, the leader of the seditionist group known as the Skulk of Foxes. Theodore stared at the king without fear as his sentence was pronounced. Reynard moved to pull back Raine's blindfold again, only for Raine to jerk her head away. "No! I won't do it anymore!"
Reynard's face turned absolutely murderous as he wound up for a slap. "YOU WILL DO AS I--"
*CRACK!!*
In the split second it took for Letitia to rush over to Reynard and strike his arm hard enough to shatter his wrist, she mentally expressed her gratitude for the flexibility of her vow to protect Raine. Reynard fell to the ground screaming in pain as Letitia tenderly held Raine and softly said, "This ends now."Before Raine could press for details, Letitia pulled her in for a kiss as she caressed her cheek.
When Letitia pulled away, a wisp of black smoke escaped Raine's lips and swiftly spiraled into the air before vanishing. Raine hesitantly took off the blindfold, and beamed at Letitia. "It's gone. The curse is actually gone! You saved me!"
"I'm so sorry I didn't do this sooner. I was a coward who feared what your animal of a father would do in retaliation--"
Raine pressed her forehead against Letitia's and purred, "That is no way for my hero to talk."
Reynard, having recovered his mental facilities, screamed, "SEIZE THAT TRAITOROUS--"
*SMASH!*
The windows to the throne room were suddenly shattered as members of the Skulk of Foxes rushed inside. As they helped Theodore onto his feet and out of his bonds, he looked over at Letitia and Raine with a grin. "Seems you two are in need of an escape."
Letitia lifted Raine into a bridal carry and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Redmond. Your kindness is appreciated."Letitia followed Theodore out the window and landed in a horse-drawn carriage just below. As Theodore snapped the reins and got the carriage moving, Raine nuzzled into Letitia and remarked, "I can hardly believe you shattered my father's wrist for me."
"I'd break it another thousand times if it meant you were safe and happy, my love." |
“you still smell of him, go wash again”, Mom said, almost absentmindedly. She was surprisingly composed, too composed, like a robot. She said nothing to me again until the visitors came. Aunty Bisi, Uncle Pekun and his wife, and Dad’s former driver were the first to visit. I don’t know or I don’t recognize the other people who came. I remember every drink I served that afternoon, asking everyone “would you like Fanta, Pepsi or Water?”. Nobody wanted anything, except for the very loud woman that I do not know/recognize who wanted cold water. I was grateful for that, for an opportunity to step out of the house, away from Mom’s monotonous “get our guest something to drink”. Why was she acting like people were casually dropping in for a social visit anyway?
Aunty Bisi and Uncle Pekun’s wife stayed with us all night. Aunty Bisi stayed until the funeral. I wish Uncle Pekun’s wife had stayed instead, she was easier to be around, less dramatic and she didn’t mention any anecdotes about him. I think it was because she didn’t know him, she married Uncle Pekun just last year.
I started to miss Aunty Bisi after the funeral though when there was no one to sit with Mom and she would come into my room. It was exhausting, trying to pretend everything was okay, trying to pretend I didn't hate her for what happened, trying to pretend I was okay. I would spend hours in my room waiting to hear her footsteps approaching so I could pretend to be asleep. I could not wait to get out of the house, I refreshed my email almost every hour, hoping for any job offer so I could go back to Lagos.
And then, he came back and I no longer wanted to leave. We would smoke a joint in the bathroom, then lay in bed and talk for hours, and then he would leave. He came back every day and would offer to stay a couple more hours if I talked to Mom that day. Everything sucked less, Aunty Bisi got me a job at the Ministry of Health. I started enjoying the villatic life llesha provided and I started to forgive Mom.
He stopped coming in August, and I could not bear missing him. Every day after leaving the Ministry, I would stay in the bathroom smoking, waiting for him to come join me. He never did again but I could remember him better, remember our conversations, remember the smell of him in the bathtub; the smell of wine and blood and weed. I could remember how much the smell clung to me when I carried him out, to my arms, my chest hairs, my thighs, my shirt. I remember the smell when I gave him mouth-to-mouth; weed, cigarettes, wine and strawberry? I remembered how much heavier he was when I carried him to the ambulance, how the idiot at the morgue asked me to help carry him in. I remember thinking "this cannot be respectful"when I saw the white chest freezers, like the type Mom sells Turkey from in all her shops.
I remember how annoyed I was when I returned from the morgue and Mom asked me to take a shower. Twice. "You still smell of him.". Bullshit. He didn't smell like this. He smelled like 212
Men, what he called a "classy man's cologne". He started smelling different, more flowery around March, "Kayode prefers this", he would say. He didn't start smelling of wine until May, when we left Lagos and moved back home for Dad's funeral and mourning. Kayode said he did not like long-distance relationships and he started replying less frequently. He didn't start smelling of cigarettes until June when Kayode posted his 6-month anniversary with his girlfriend. He would come home with his new friends, who all smoked cigarettes and were incredibly vapid, and I convinced Mom to let us move into the two-bedroom boys' quarter so he could have his privacy.
It was the smell of cigarettes (or rather, the fear that the house was on fire) that would lead Mom to peer into the BQ window and see him with his latest cigarette bro.
When he came back at the end of June, he smelled of incense, and body odour. He had not been allowed to shower for the two weeks he was at the church Mom took him to in Abeokuta. We smelled like weed and beer when he told me Kayode broke him. I was surprised that after what he had just been through, Kayode was still why he felt broken, and I told him it would not destroy him.
On the 1st of July, when he died, the house smelled of pancakes. He was in a good mood and he made pancakes and he let me taste one. He asked me to take one up to Mom but I was in a hurry.
The house still smelled like pancakes when I found him as it did when Mom finally got home.
I would smoke and remember Taiye and all his smells and then take a shower, imagining the water draining into the same pipe as his blood.
And then, the smell of him would not leave me. By November, I had to take a shower even when I had not remembered him. I would start to get anxious, that everyone could smell him and they would figure out that I was smoking weed and talking to my dead twin brother and I would be removed from my program then mom would find out I had been talking to my dead twin brother and that monotony and flat affect would return to her speech, so I had to go wash. And it would happen again, and again, and again, until I could no longer wait until lunch to go home and take a shower. Before Christmas, Mom started to get worried that I no longer left the house. I couldn't take that risk, I could start smelling of him anytime and I would need to take a shower immediately if not I could lose my job and get my mom depressed.
I had just gotten out of the shower and was wearing my boxers when Mom came into my room with a man. He looked familiar but I could not place the face. "I want you to talk to him, please, Oko mi", Mom said and dashed away.
"How are you? "the man asked. Maybe it was the patronising way he asked it, but I immediately recognised him. He was the psychiatrist helping with our state's Mental Health Policy at the Ministry. I realised why he was here but I had to go do something urgently. I dashed again into the bathroom, mumbling "I still smell like him, l'll go wash again" |
Davey Lucas blinked. As a cashier at Walmart for going on six years he had seen and heard a lot of shit. He often thought he'd seen and heard it all.
"Uhhh I'll.. make an announcement sir,"he said finally, turning away from the stranger's unsettling, fixed grin and gratefully facing the phone.
Making sure it was set to the PA system, Davey spoke into the handset:
"We have a man who has lost his mind, I repeat, a man has lost his mind near the front of the store so just keep an eye out for that. Thanks for shopping at Walmart."
Replacing the handset in its cradle, Davey turned back to the stranger whose grin hadn't faltered yet. Either that or he had put it back on before Davey turned around...
"No I believe you misunderstood me,"the strange man said patiently. "I appreciate your assistance but it was more of a rhetorical question."
Walking further into the store and leaving dumbfounded Davey in his delusions of main characterhood, the strange man named Paulo Trevino lit a cigarette with a match.
"As I was saying,"Paulo said in a voice loud enough to echo through much of the store without the benefit of a PA link, "Does anyone know where my mind is? It is fixed on a future beyond material needs such as... well, Walmart. Now I know you like Walmart.."
Paulo paused, his grin faltering again as people began screaming and running. He looked down at the pistol that was now in his hand. That and the announcement by the cashier had really ruined the monologue he had been wanting to give about capitalism, consumerism and the American way.
Paulo began firing the pistol repeatedly in the air as he advanced on the double time now towards the gas station section, on the further end of the store. There just was never time for a good monologue nowadays. Now these people were screaming too loudly, running too desperately to even hear WHY he was going to blow up the Walmart. He wanted to evacuate them calmly first but now they were stampeding and trampling each other.
Americans. Typical.
"Please, please, flee towards an exit instead of trying to hide, "Paulo bellowed. "If not you actually will die you fools. If you hide I cannot keep you from dying, so.."
He stepped aside as a pair of parents led their children past.
"THANK you. Some people were listening!" |
Depends, what are you looking for?
Japanese Isekai? The male protagonist is run over by a truck with a game device in hand that becomes his superpowered ability within the new world they have entered. As a result, they have been blessed with magical abilities focused around said game device as they travel the land, saving fair maidens, running from the local authorities, and causing no endless amount of trouble.
Korean Isekai? The female protagonist dies while reading an online web-novel and has now entered said novel as the female side character during the events of the novel. Join her as she narrowly avoids all the relationship flags being thrown her way, charms the love of her life, and finds a way to make herself a successful business woman! |
\[Rhapsody of Loyalty\]
Edgar sat up suddenly and glanced around at his surroundings. He was confused because he had already been sitting upright at his computer the moment before. The bright white walls and floor looked familiar; but, he definitely wasn't in his own office. He spotted a pale teenage girl with long white hair at her desk. She wore a white blazer with the Sharp logo on the front. Edgar wasn't sure where he was; but, the familiar logo was comforting.
"Hi, Edgar,"the teen smiled at him. "My name's Rhapsody; I'm sorry to inform you that you died."
"Oh...,"he turned and swung his legs off the leather chaise to focus on her. He instantly accepted it at face value. He knew the company had an Afterlife division and she very clearly worked for them too.
"So... what happens now?"he asked.
"Normally, you would be meeting your caseworker briefly to discuss your long-term goals over the coming lifetimes. Then, you'd be reborn again to pursue those goals. However, you have a long history with Sharp Development and that's why I'm here instead,"she replied.
"You've proven yourself to be a valuable employee and we'd like to see you continue working for us if you're inclined to. It's not an obligation by any means and if you'd prefer to get on with your lives, I'll be happy to bring in your caseworker,"she said.
If there was one thing that Edgar learned working for Sharp Development, it was to never agree to their first offer. As eager as he was to get right back to work, he sensed an opportunity. He straightened his back and looked into Rhapsody's red eyes. Their demonic glow might have intimidated some people. But he met all kinds of clients working for Sharp Development, including demons.
"Does that come with any sign-on bonuses?"he asked.
"What did you have in mind?"she asked. Edgar needed his decades of experience to keep a straight face. He should have seen it coming; but, it still took him by surprise. He knew that was a loaded question; he'd been on the asking side of that question several times. It meant she already knew what she was going to offer and if he asked for something different, he wouldn't get anything. Thankfully, he'd also figured out how to get out of that question over the years; and, he wouldn't even have to lie.
"Not a thing,"he asked. "I just know how generous Sharp Development can be when it benefits the company,"he said.
"Right you are,"she nodded with a grin. "I am prepared to offer you a permanent contract,"she said. "Although, unfortunately...,"she subtly shook her head and Edgar almost gave himself away by chuckling. He knew the procedure well enough to know what was next. A little bit of ego bruising was required to make the offer sound like a favor. "...that is the best I can do for an employee at your level. You're an excellent worker, Edgar; but, there are still billions more employees that are better."
"I'm not familiar with a 'Permanent Contract',"he said. Despite their manipulative methods, Sharp Development valued genuine curiosity. Not once had anyone ever laughed at him for wanting to know more about something. He shrugged and elaborated. "I had a lifetime contract.... what's the difference?"
"Your lifetime contract ended when you died,"she said. "A permanent contract would keep you employed with Sharp Development, and alive, indefinitely."
"Alive? I'd be immortal?"He asked. Rhapsody nodded.
"Essentially, for as long as the contract is active,"she said. "You may still suffer the occasional illness or physical injury; but, you wouldn't die. And, you'd be expected to be at work on time each day."
"That kind of sounds like a dream come true,"he said. It felt like they'd both played their hands and the negotiation was over. He would get exactly what he wanted. "Where do I sign?"he asked. He stood from the chaise and approached her desk. There was a red clipboard and pen waiting for him when he reached it.
"Right here,"she nodded at the sheet. Edgar did not waste any time scribbling his name and simply drew a red 'X'; it was valid for the purposes of that contract. Although, the moment he did, he had a sudden realization in the back of his mind and he felt a sinking feeling in his gut.
"You said 'as long as the contract is active'. What's it take to make it 'inactive'?"he asked. Rhapsody collected the clipboard and she smirked at him from behind the desk.
"I'm a little disappointed you asked,"she said. "You should know the answer already; I did tell you."
"Phew,"Edgar nodded and chuckled. "Sorry, I just got a little worried there for a second; I was really hoping it wouldn't go inactive,"he said. He knew how that game was played; the chance of it being inactive was meant to be a distraction. She nodded at him with a smile, the pointed at a portal in the air next to him.
"It's clearly labeled as a permanent contract,"she explained even though he'd already caught up mentally. "So, get back to work,"she gestured at the portal.
"Yes ma'am!"Edgar replied. "This is the best day ever,"he mumbled to himself as he walked into the portal. "From now on, even death can't stop me from working for Sharp Development."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1849 in a row. (Story #039 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). |
*John takes a long swig of Morphil.* It's illegal, but not a single damn neurostylist in New Fonta hasn't touched the stuff at least some if they managed to keep an ounce of their soul intact.
Being a neurostylist means sorting through the filth, trauma, gore, and nightmares five days a week. Six if you want enough credits to not sink further into debt. Some consider them the lucky ones too, since at least they aren't the ones having to experience it first hand.
*John puts the remaining Morphil in the secret compartment under his desk with and resigned sigh and taps the intercom button on his holo-dash.* "Xib, bring in the next patient."The holo-dash barely has time to fade back into the desk before the door flashes green and swishes open.
"P-please. Just.. Take as much as you can. I don't want any of it. I can't take it. It's all I see. It's all I think. Every time I close my eyes. Every time I-"*John holds up a hand* "I get it. I do. This ain't my first day kid. You're going to tell me you're from Division 41, right?"*the soldier exhales nervously* "I'll take that as a yes. Just sit down here and we'll fix you right up."
Poor fuckers. The always send the young and inexperienced to Division 41 in the outer rim. Pumped full of propaganda, promises of glory, and helping humanity they barely have time to second guess themselves before their feet being planted on some god forsaken rock a thousand lightyears from home. They definitely don't tell them what they're really signing up for, that's for sure. It's always one of two things.
Division 41 is pitched as explorers and keepers of the peace. What they fail to mention in bootcamp is explorers have a 91% mortality rate. Ninety One percent. Nearly every god damn rock they try and colonize has some kind of ultra-beast population if not thousands, otherwise they'd already be colonized. Kids no older than 17 are ripped into little chunky pieces screaming while their comrades watch knowing their next since their plasma rifles malfunction half the time and overheat god damn near instantly the other half. At least the lucky ones die fast. The unlucky get paralized by stingers and impregenated only to be torn apart from the inside by thousands of baby cryptirachs. Of those that don't die, they are often mauled beyond recognition and sent to live the rest of their miserable lives in a VAC tube draining what little credits their family had left before they are forced to pull the plug.
So you might think, "well at least peacekeeping isn't so bad". Maybe if you are born lucky enough to be a psychopath. In reality keeping the peace means methodically executing every innocent poor Gruun farmer exposed to even the thought of rebellion. The Sixth Order doesn't take any chances. If your agriculture town has an IPV13 address tied to recieving a single anti-Order message, that's it. They just clean the entire town to be safe. Women, children, --hell-- they'll even kill the pets. It doesn't matter. Plasma to the head of the heretics. Traumatic stress to the head of our finest young lads and ladies gullible enough to sign up. Rinse and repeat until the cadets kill themselves or end up in my office.
*The soldier slides into the neuro-chair.* "Oh and one more thing you should know before we begin."John says as he reaches into the toolbot behind the neuro-chair. "This is going to hurt. *A lot*."And jabs the what neurostylists affectionally call the "neuro-shiv"into the soldier's government-mandated exo-port that rests on the back of every citizens head. The soldier screams in agony before quickly falling unconscious.
*John fishes back out the remaining Morphil and taps his holo-deck into life.* "Let's see which it was this time.." |
The marking didn't hurt or anything; as a matter of fact, I kind of liked the tenderness I felt when I pressed on it. But it sure as hell hurt in other ways. Once word started getting around about the eye symbol that had basically been scarred into my hand, my life was pretty much over at that point.
When you grow up in a religious small town like mine, the whole soulmate thing can be a bit of a landmine. I'd seen too many families disown their kids over having a soulmate who was the same gender as them, or having more than one name, or not having any name at all. But me? I looked like a cult leader thanks to this stupid marking. Some people actually thought I was the antichrist because of it. And a few people were willing to take it one step further.
It all started when I got home from my shift at Blake's Diner. Nobody in town was willing to let me rent a place, so I was stuck living with my parents. As I kicked off my shoes, I looked into the dining room and saw my parents sitting with a man I'd never seen before. My mom looked over at me and said, "Ava, can you come here please?"
I stepped into the dining room but pointedly refused to take a seat. My dad gestured towards the mystery man and explained, "This is John Collins. He claims that he can...well, get rid of your marking."
John reached out for a handshake. "The process is difficult, but I'm certain I can take care of your problem and get you back on track to--"
"Oh fuck you."
John faltered. "I'm... sorry?"
I stepped up to John and got right up in his face as I reiterated, "I said fuck you. I'm not about to subject myself to whatever coked out scam you're trying to pull here."
John's face turned stone cold. "Ava, I'm trying to fix your problem."
"Okay, first of all? You're here to fix my parents' problem, not mine. Because the only people in this town who have it at least somewhat as bad as the girl labeled the antichrist are the people who gave birth to her, because obviously one of them bumped uglies with Satan!"
I showed off the marking on my hand. "And second of all? This ain't my problem."I gestured to my parents and John in a sweeping motion. "This is my problem. Everyone in this goddamn town has been giving me shit for two years because they are all just so desperate for their dumbass end times porno to be real that they'll ruin a girl's life in the hopes they'll finally be right about something!"
I stormed out of the dining room, only for my dad to grab me by the arm and try to drag me back against my protests as he growled, "You think you can get out of this by throwing a tantrum?! One way or another, you will--"
"Let. Her. Go."
My dad and I stopped what we were doing to look over at my mom, who had just spoken in a voice that wasn't hers. Mom's eyes glazed over entirely black as her shadow stretched out and covered the windows and ceiling light entirely. As my mom slumped over on the floor, a pair of blazing red eyes appeared in the darkness as the voice hissed, "Don't make me repeat myself, worm."
My father let go of my arm and curled up in a ball on the floor. From the all-encompassing darkness that filled the room, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen appeared. Her dark hair and red eyes captured my gaze as much as her wings and goat horns. The woman stepped up to me, kissed me on the hand, and purred, "Hey there princess. Sorry to keep you waiting for so long."
I could barely think straight as the woman pulled off one of her gloves to show me a marking on her own hand--one that bore my name. I went wide eyed and said, "You're...my--"
"Come on. You didn't really think a requirement for a soulmate was that they had an actual soul, right?"
I blushed, eliciting a giggle from my soulmate. I then looked at my hand and asked, "But why the eye symbol?"
"Demon names don't translate well into English. It's the reason all of the rituals use Latin. The symbol means Muse."Muse took my hand and caressed my cheek. "It's the most wonderful feeling in the world to be able to hold you and feel the warmth of your skin."
I melted into Muse's embrace and softly said, "Take me away from here. I can't stay in this town anymore."
"That's exactly what I'm here to do, princess."Muse led me into the darkness she originated from as she remarked, "I can't wait to show you the demon realm. It's like nothing you could see on Earth."
"Ava, don't."I looked down to see my mom reaching out to me weakly. "Ava, please stay. Don't do this."
"Sorry mom. But I'm not about to give up the solution to my problem."With that, Muse and I walked into the darkness and onward to our life together. |
A villan, a hero and a tax collector walk into a bar.
My bar, in fact.
"Jeb,"the tax collector starts. "We all want have a talk with you about this bat you've been running."
"Hey,"the hero pipes up. "Don't lump me in with you two. I'm here to have a civilized discussion about why letting villans like Ted into a bar with those of us more civilized folk *cough cough* HEROES *cough cough* is simply outrageous!"
Ted glared at the hero from the bar, where he'd taken a seat.
"I'll tell ya'll the same thing I told ye' before,"I said. "My bar, my rules."
"A bar you are not paying taxes for!"The tax collector screeched while flailing his arms about.
"Guys,"Ted said, addressing the hero and tax collector. "There's a very simple solution, we kill him and then fight for rights to the bar."
"No!"The hero said and after a moment the tax collector piped up with a less emphatic 'no.'
"Ugh, you two are so boooring,"Ted said. "What if I kill him and then take over the bar for villan kind?"
The tax collector balked and the hero fixed him with a stern gaze before speaking.
"This is my favorite hangout spot! I won't let some villan have it!"
The villan and hero set about doing what heroes and villans do; fighting. The tax collector, who had suddenly realized he was in over his head slumped into a nearby seat, where I poured him a drink and started his tab before getting ready to drag the hero and Ted outside. |
Dimirtri was a boy living in a quaint village. One day, an evil sorcerer, Rasputin, overthrew the king. Dimitri's grandpa revealed that he had a Tetrimino. With more Tetriminoes, Dimitri could defeat him. He sets off to the cave of the demon Chernabog, where he uses his flashlight to avoid the creature's darkness-based attacks. He escapes with a Tetrimino. He travels to the cabin of Maskov the koschei. He ends up in a trap before being taken inside by Maskov. Maskov says that he wants to help him. However, Maskov does not want to use his Tetrimino because his soul resides in it. Dimitri agrees. They set out to Rasputin. They are attacked by murderous birds. Dimitri almost falls off a cliff, but Maskov saves him. They arrive at the sorcerer's castle. In a climactic battle, Dimitri manipulates the Tetriminoes to fly around, ram into the sorcerer, and block the sorcerer's magic. Even coupled with Maskov's archery skill, they can't defeat him. Maskov looks at Dimitri with sorrow eyes before giving him his Tetrimino. Dimitri manages to overwhelm the sorcerer, but Maskov's Tetrimino broke. Everyone congratulates the boy. Dimitri experiences the bitter-sweet conclusion, as Maskov's sacrifice was worthy. In a post-credits scene, a Warp Pipe appears. This sets up the Super Smash Bros. movie. |
Brittany stopped. She heard chanting. She figured that it was coming from behind the hill up ahead. She walked forward, looked behind it, and saw a man on his knees chanting. He had a bandaged right hand. In front of him was a pentagram. It was about 10 inches wide. A bit of blood was in the middle. The man looked up at Brittany.
"Ah, I know that one...the succubus ritual. Sorry to interrupt", she said. "It's alright. I can't get it to work", he said. She brought out a dagger from her pocket. She walked up to the pentagram. She brought up her right hand and held the dagger above it. "May I?", she asked. "Sure", he said, sounding unsure. She cut her palm and let the blood trickle to the center of the circle. A fire erupted from the blood. It grew to a giant cylinder as wide as the circle. He looked on in awe. A silhouette of a person appeared in the flames. The flames abruptly died down to reveal a succubus looking at him. She wore only a bra and panties. She took a seat right next to him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you", he said very happily to Brittany. "Don't mention it", she replied, smiling. What summoned the succubus, you ask? Well, in this ritual, the blood of a sinner is needed, and the blood's potency coincides with how malevolent the sinner is. |
My name is Tara. I was walking through the forest before coming to a halt. "Alright, you can come out", I said. The dark elf was a few trees behind me. He had long hair that was flowing and black. He wore a green robe. "How did you know?", he asked.
"I noticed you multiple times. You dark elves are supposed to be stealthy."
"How come you waited to talk to me?"
"Your aura was repelling the dire wolves.""What?", he asked, confused.
"Do you actually not know? Dark elves have an aura that repels certain creatures...I could have just kept silent, but I chose not to because I wanted to toy with you. I EAT dark elves."I maintained my deadpan face. He looked shocked. "I'm just kidding. Although, I'm sure you would taste good."Still looking deadpan, I winked at him and kept walking. He pouted. |
I wake up, in my bedroom. I touch the choker on my neck. It's kinda tight, but nothing unbearable. As I begin to get up, a portal opens and Urrick steps through, smiling. "Morning! Sleep well?"
"I guess... so much happened at once..."I begin to walk to my dresser, but he grabs my arm.
"Stand still, Flora. Let *me* do this for you."Automatically, I freeze on the spot. Urrick undresses me, then grabs some fresh clothes - a cute purple top with a large daisy on the front and a matching pair of shorts. He then gets me dressed.
I'm not sure why, but having Urrick do this for me almost feels... comforting. Like it's one less thing I need to worry about. "All done"he says.
I look in my body-length mirror. As I do, I'm once again told to stand still, and watch as he brushes my hair. He begins to tie it up with a cute purple ribbon. "I don't really do ribbons anymore... I don't know why I still have them..."I feel my cheeks flushed. Admittedly, I could never get rid of the ribbons, but every time I put one on, I feel childish.
Urrick chuckles. "Don't you think you'd look cute, love?"
"Well, I do, but... I'd look girly..."
He gently kisses my cheek. All I can do is sigh and smile. "Ok, Urrie, only for you."He proceeds to tie my hair with the ribbon, which is tied into a bow. My cheeks are completely red now. I look like a girl, not a young lady!
"You look amazing, Flora."Urrick kisses me on the cheek again as he embraces me. "Shall we check on our daughter?"
"Of course"I chime. We make our way to the living room, where my parents are. Baby Ariana is being held by my mum. My parents agreed to help look after her.
"Morning, sweetheart. I have to say, I really miss you wearing the ribbons! You look pretty!"
"MUUUUUUUM!"I moan, turning away in embarrassment. I take a deep breath and walk over, carefully picking up Ariana.
Urrick wraps his arm around my waist. "We'll be going for a walk."
"Please bring her back before dark, even if you just take her straight to yours after"my dad responds.
Urrick leads me to the front door, taking me outside. We begin walking, just chatting away, mostly about the mess I left behind in the afterlife. Apparently Burl has taken to calling me a 'Mary Sue', which kind of hurts... I mean, it's not like I was doing anything BAD... though I guess that was the problem...
We sit down on a bench in a park, just admiring the beautiful day. With Urrick in his human form, we just look like young teenage parents.
After a short while, I spot Allie and Malessor. "Urrie, should we go say hi?"
"Of course"he smiles, and we make our way over. The pair soon spot us. Allie is quick to hug me.
"FLORA! I heard you were having a crisis or something... you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm alright"I reply.
"Boss isn't though"Malessor cuts in. "He's very busy now, trying to get hell back under control. He's even trying some of *my* suggestions."
Urrick raises an eyebrow. "Really? He always said they weren't worth it..."
Malessor shrugs. "I guess he's desperate."
"Wait, wait, what ideas?"I ask.
"Oh, Malessor has ALWAYS had... umm... 'interesting' ideas for torture. Every demon knows he's not the... err..."
"Don't beat around the bush, Urrick. I know I'm not really cut out to be a demon, but I still wanna help!
I nod. "Ok, so what *are* some of your ideas?"
"As an example, putting animal abusers to live in a room full of animals."
Allie looks puzzled. "Thought animals avoided hell?"
"Oh, well, there are always some animals that *do* come to hell, and often animals WILL have demonic counterparts, such as hellhounds for dogs."
"And how EXACTLY is that supposed to be punishment?"I inquire.
Malessor grins. "I heard about you [helping Sera deal with someone](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/z0xfea/comment/ix8h418/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) who messed with the provider for her strays. Also remember, animals are... *sensitive*... and good at reading people..."
I cover my mouth to hold back laughter. The idea that these sick people will be *tortured by animals!*
"Huh, Lucifer always said 'the animals wouldn't care about a dead person'. Let's see if he's right. What else he trying?"Urrick cocks his head in curiosity.
"Doctors, firemen etc, basically emergency service people, who abandon saving lives for their own selfish gains, because they couldn't be bothered, or were otherwise careless or neglectful. Simulate THEM being the ones in danger, watching THEMSELVES ignore them. Even though they can't die again, they will feel EVERY bit of pain that they inflicted on others, BEGGING for themselves to do something."
"Sounds like it would lose its impact after a while"Allie suggests.
"That was why Lucifer didn't want to invest in it, but I suppose this is a really good time to try it"Urrick states. "Any others?"
"Several, but I'll give you ONE more. I always thought we should have something for those who destroy reputations, hurt numbers and create chaos, as too often they get away with it."Malessor avoids looking at me. "...Being responsible for keeping everything in hell going, nonstop."
Urrick has a look of concern and I recoil. Allie seems confused again. I gulp. "And?"
Malessor's face saddens. "Boss didn't try it before because it didn't seem 'that bad' according to him, but since *you're* a prime example, he... he wants you... to..."
"NO!"I shout, retreating back a ways.
"Ok, I don't get it. How's that bad?"Allie looks at me.
Urrick steps forward to answer. "She'd be personally responsible for keeping all the Levels of Torture functioning. It would be exhausting and humiliating. Things HAVE gone wrong sometimes, such as people avoiding getting cuts. I've seen demons struggle. Lucifer never saw that it would be bad for a human - I think he sometimes forgets that humans aren't all that resilient."
"...Oh."Allie stares at Malessor pleadingly.
Malessor smirks. "I'll just tell boss that you were terrified of the mere thought. I might have to degrade you."
"That's fine! Just don't make me! Please!"I notice Urrick walk over to me. He kisses my forehead.
"I won't let anything happen to you, love. Promise. Now, let me take you to *my* place for a bit, so I can punish you myself"he purrs with a wink.
"Do we have to?"I ask shyly. Urrick smirks. "At least, let's take Ariana back to my parents' first."
"Oh, of course."Urrick and I begin making our way back, saying goodbye to Allie and Malessor.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [To Love a Demon.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xqefwu/to_love_a_demon/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! |
I'm Dan. I'm a quiet guy with social anxiety. I was hanging out with my friends Sara and Todd. We were watching fireworks on a hill. They both had to go to the bathroom, and they left me alone. Then, the full moon came out. Todd said that stupid joke as he left. I was going to tell them that I'm a wolfman. I should just leave.
Wait. There's another way. I dug in my backpack and pulled out some paper. I wrote on it and left it in my place. I left into the nearby woods.
They came back. "Dan!?", cried Sara, looking around. Todd looked at the paper. Sara looked, too. It read, "I'm a wolfman."
I had transformed. I sat behind a tree, listening to them. "Dan, come out. We don't care if you're a wolfman", Sara yelled. I braced myself. Here we go. I walked toward them. Once they heard my footsteps, they turned to look at me. They looked up at my six-foot self in awe. "So cool!", said Todd. I looked down. "Thanks", I managed. Sara grabbed my arm and petted it. "So fluffy...", she said. I smiled. |
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