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[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
[**I'm aware that this prompt has been done multiple times, but I only started posting recently and so I'll try to take a stab at it. Hopefully this will be a slightly different flavor.**]
*He doesn't look like much.* That was the first thought in Volair's mind as the human representative, Adam, entered the council room. Most sentient life-forms were bipedal and vaguely humanoid, but the man stood a full three feet shorter than him, boasting none of the survival tools that evolution had bestowed upon the Avelium.
"You're early," Adam observed, bowing in the customary greeting of inter-species diplomats. The brief smile revealed no fangs, no poison...if they were to get into a dispute, nothing would save the small earthling from Volair's wicked claws. And that was empowering.
"I believe you have a saying on your planet," the Avel-born said as they both took seats on opposite sides of the long obsidian table. "Something about the early bird getting the worm?"
Volair watched the translators fastened to the human's visor churn its way through his gruff speech. Earthlings possessed no telepathic abilities either, not like the tentacled Kinu who could grasp the essence of thoughts directly. *This* was the dominant species of their planet?
"I appreciate that," Adam said. "Let's get down to business, shall we? Our United Nations council has discovered that your civilization has been encroaching on intergalactic law in several colonies."
"Lies and slander," Volair sneered. "Every bit of business that we do is sanctioned and legal." Besides, these humans would never retaliate even if that wasn't true, so what was he afraid of?
Adam's posture didn't waver in the slightest. "Treaties exist for a reason. I'm here on behalf of humanity to request that you order a full evacuation of any Avelium government superstructures in the Sigma-Nine sector. Otherwise, we'll do it for you."
Volair was surprised. Although Earth was a relatively new addition to the Galactic Conglomerate, no human diplomat had ever declared war, nor had they ever engaged in any sort of combat. Where was the leverage behind this stark declaration? "Is that a threat?"
The diplomat blinked. "Of course it's a threat. It's not simply a warning. Not all human representatives are the same, General Volair, and while some of my colleagues are soft-spoken, I assure you that it would be wise not to mistake *kindness* for *weakness.*"
It was a bluff. It had to be. Volair simply yawned, flexing his claws in a casual display of strength - the alloy generated by his body was stronger than steel and he knew it could even cleave through human space ships. "You know, I've never seen any humans fight. It would be quite interesting, especially as we are in the advantageous position with troops seeded throughout your colonies."
"I suppose we'll just go our separate ways, then," Adam said. "And allow history to be the judge, jury, and executioner."
Months later, Volair had all but forgotten about the small human. The Avelium diplomat joked about it a few times with his colleagues over lunch and brought it up with his bonded mate while the kids were getting ready for school.
Then it happened. An Avelium native took the life of a human in a zone where Volair's people had no right to be. An ultimatum was given, and ignored. And then he witnessed nightmares come to life.
Technology and weapons whose sole purpose was to lay waste at the planetary level bombarded Avelium positions without remorse. Allies took sides, bisecting and trisecting the Galactic Conglomerate, and the stars weeped for the lost lives.
It wasn't just Volair's species. It was all sympathetic allies as well. The darkness of space lit up with not only explosions, but far more horrific tragedies over the course of mere weeks. Somehow humanity managed to smuggle nanoviruses onto supply ships that caused global pandemics targeting Avelium colonies. They avoided any sort of hand-to-hand or space-based combat, simply destroying anything that came too close with enough firepower to make a neutron star jealous.
And then Volair jerked back into reality. He was back in the negotiation room.
"You've seen the future," Adam said, reclining in the council room chair. "What do you think?"
The Avelium native realized that he was sweating. "What did you do to me?"
The human smiled. "Airborne nanovirus. Think of it as a holographic rendition, a promise for the future if you fight us. You may doubt our physical prowess and our propensity for peace, but there's a reason we survived on Earth and there's a reason we don't want to fight. If you doubt our resolve, just know this."
The human leaned forward across the table, and Volair subconsciously leaned away.
"Those things I showed you? Those were just examples of things we've done to *ourselves*. What do you think we'd be willing to do to another species?"
Volair sat there, long after Adam left, trying to shake the memories of his civilization crumbling under disease and ash. *So that's why they want to avoid war. To avoid becoming the demons they themselves despise*.
Now he knew how Mother Nature had allowed such puny beings to reach beyond the skies.
---
Edit: thanks to the kind strangers who generously gave awards, it's truly heartwarming and encouraging. Thanks also to everyone who commented, I can't respond to everything as I need to sleep but I have read every single one and I appreciate all your kind words and feedback greatly~ see you all tomorrow :)
Thanks for reading! Feedback would be greatly appreciated~ Come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around :)
|
[Poem]
Every insult.
Every smack.
We've endured.
Upon our backs.
With words of peace,
and tolerance.
No longer are they,
our best defense
They've done it now,
they've worn us thin!
Thinking they,
could chain us in!
And thin veiled threats,
now made brash.
They see what happens,
When our façade...
Cracks
Start the pyre.
Salt the field.
We turn deaf,
when they cry "yield!"
Burn their churches,
to the ground.
Crack the stones,
they built around.
Bleach the oceans!
Tear the sky!
Let them know,
that they'll all die!
Let them cower,
on their ships.
While their cities,
are torn to bits!
Sail the stars,
we'll find them there.
Breach their hulls!
Take their air!
And they once asked,
"Why won't you fight?"
And now they know,
why our lips were tight.
Because if we ever,
went to war.
Then there'd be nothing left,
worth fighting for.
| 2019-11-24T10:35:39 | 2019-11-24T10:09:51 | 5,960 | 494 |
[WP] The galaxy is actually full of life and advanced civilizations. Everyone just leaves Earth alone because that's where The Great Old Ones are imprisoned, and nobody wants to wake them up.
|
“Coordinates are set for Earth,” Bria confirmed, tapping through her console.
“We are crazy. You both know that. What happens when we get there and it’s not true? What happens when we get there and it is? We go poke ancient planet eating bears?” Dash asked. His voice squeaked as he spoke, nerves getting the better of him.
He was the more nervous of the trio, but it never stopped him from tagging along. He liked being left out less than he liked going on their ridiculous adventures.
“Poke poke,” Bria said, turning her head to smile at him.
“It’s fine, Dash,” Talyn said steadily, “Whatever happens- They are imprisoned. As long as we don’t open the gate and let them start devouring us, it will all be fine.”
Dash pushed his shoulders against his seat and fidgeted with the straps across his chest. He grumbled but thought better of arguing any further. The other two would never understand where he was coming from. They had all been vague with their parental units so they all knew that no one knew where they were going. The way he figured, the best case scenario here was that they got themselves in serious trouble and no one would know where to come looking for them.
They would most likely end up stranded on earth or mauled by some local creature or better yet, ravaged by one of The Great Old Ones. Everyone left Earth alone for a reason, and here they were trying to go *see* them.
He closed his eyes as the ship jumped into drive, pushing his body harder against his seat. He wasn’t that big of a fan of inertia either if he was being honest.
The ship pushed onward, holding all three against their seats until they reached the Milky Way. Bria squealed when the ship's computer announced that they were almost there and that the ship would now be slowing down to a speed appropriate for atmospheric entry. Dash, in response, groaned. He looked through the front shield at the round blueish planet they were headed for.
“We could still turn around,” he said cheerfully.
Both of the girls laughed without turning around to look at him.
“You know that Earth’s rocket ships actually crash land *every single time* they come back into their own atmosphere?” Bria asked her companions.
“And these are the ones in charge of keeping the rest of us safe,” Talyn snorted at the end of her sentence.
Dash had always taken her for a bit snobby. It was never directed at him or Bria which made it tolerable, but it came out sometimes none the less. He stared straight ahead and took a breath through clenched teeth as they pushed right on through the atmosphere of Earth.
They went through ozone and a long layer of clouds before coming down to an expansive body of warm looking water. The ship slowed further as they went, and with the push of a button the console, A set of feet for water landing deployed from the bottom.
“This is always my favorite story,” Bria said as she turned the multiple keys that turned off the ship's engines. “All this water. Can you imagine if our planet had this much water? The creatures underneath must be huge! Oh, it’s gonna be so great. How far down do you think it is? What do you think it’s prison looks like? Where-”
“Bria!” Talyn exclaimed, interrupting her, “take a breath girl, please. We will find out soon enough.”
All three unbuckled themselves and walked over to the bay door as it opened. Looking out over the reflecting surface that stretched through the horizon, Dash felt dizzy.
“Lights on,” Talyn commanded, “Jump on three.”
Three small clicks followed the order as they turned on the lights attached to their helmets.
“One.
“Two.
“Three,” Talyn counted them down.
All three bodies hit the water, and the pod door whooshed closed behind them. They dove straight down, Bria at the lead and Dash taking up his normal place at the back of the line. It didn’t take long for the light from the sun to disappear and Dash felt himself shiver inside his suit.
He could feel the nozzles adjust for the decreasing temperatures and change in pressure. They wouldn’t be able to dive down without their suits, but they wouldn’t be able to explore the planet as a whole without them either. The suits were their entire life support off of their home planet.
Deeper down they went and Dash watched as the life that swam around them began to change. Their shapes got slimmer and eventually, the fish stopped looking at them at all. Every so often he got the sense that they were touching them or smelling for them, but he simply didn’t know enough about the life here to confirm any of it. He didn’t have the stomach to try and make small conversation with the other two, either.
Soon the fish and plants stopped appearing. Dash noticed and he wondered if the other two did as well. Not long after that, they reached a shelf of land deep within the earth ocean. They landed and bobbed up and down on the ground as best they could. Not too far from where they grouped, the shelf tore away once more. Dash could see the surface of the black abyss.
This was as far as their plan had been made. They would have to go back to their ship without having seen anything or commit and dive into the Abyss. According to Bria’s calculation- the prison was straight down over that ledge. As all three of them stood, speechless and staring into the darkness, a low hum began to travel through the waters.
The hum began to warble. Dash felt like it was bouncing between his ears-inside of his head. It sent another wave of shivers, and he clenched his jaw.
“It’s there,” Bria whispered into her helmet.
Dash felt his gut spin as he watched her swim right over the ledge without another word.
***
Edit: You guys are too kind! I will be responding to comments in a while, and I am going to try and get a second part done today. Bare with me as I find time to get it out :D
E2: Thank you to the kind stranger who gave the story gold <3. And a silver! :D :D you guys make me so happy, thank you!
I am hoping to find time tonight to work on a part 3. I will update when I get the chance :)
E3: Another gold and a plat! You guys make my heart swell, Thank you all!
/r/beezus_writes
|
Admiral Arthexi stood on the command bridge. A planet was glooming in front of him. The sun did not shine on this side of the planet, but it was easy to make a distinction between the land and the sea. The land area was dotted with lights.
''You must end this.'' a voice spoke behind him. ''You have seen what it is capable of. It progresses too quick. This may be the only chance we have. A weapon capable of doing this does not pass through here often.''
The admiral turns around quickly. ''They are living beings! They are like us! I am condemning eleven billion sentient beings to not exist!'' the admiral says. He turns back to face the planet. ''I have no right to execute this order. No one has.''
''You have been granted the rights.'' The voice says, ''The Fourth controls them. You know they are not individuals. They are all connected. You have seen how they help each other, how they all work towards a common goal. How they feel for each other.''
The admiral lowers his gaze. ''I have seen it.''
''They do not act for individual good. They are not rational. They are not like us.'' the voice says and pauses. ''They are not they. They are it.''
The admiral raises his hand. The screen in front of him takes the shape of twelve buttons with a symbol on each. He ducks above the screen. A synthetic voice speaks. ''Enter the code.''
| 2019-03-09T04:58:43 | 2019-03-09T04:35:56 | 1,734 | 43 |
[WP] Out of sheer boredom, God decides that us humans must speak the brutal and honest truth no matter the consequences. The absolute excrement hits the metaphorical fan for twenty four hours straight.
|
I woke up this morning alone. My girlfriend normally wakes me up with a kiss, but she's not in the bedroom when my alarm goes off. I can hear the shower down the hall, so I decide to wake up and make some coffee.
As she gets out of the shower, she walks over and says the most peculiar thing to me.
"Good morning, slave."
We both pause. She's a bit cheeky at times, so maybe this was some kind of joke. I look over and she's clasped her hand over her mouth in shock. I responded a bit confused.
"I don't get it. Is that supposed to be funny?"
"No." She says. "I really just enjoy knowing you basically act like my slave."
We both stare at each other. She's put both hands over her mouth at this point and is shaking. I'm not sure what prompted this little dialogue this morning, but my rebuttal came as a bit of a shock to me too.
"I mean, the only reason I do is because I pity you. You wouldn't have any other friends without me."
Her shock at her own statement is now doubled by the shock of what I just said. She looks incredibly confused. Both by her own words and mine.
"Why did you say that? That's really true."
"Of course it's true. Your bitchy attitude drives most people away."
We both stand there not sure of what to make of the situation. The coffee machine beeps at me as I stare at two empty mugs, trying to figure out what is happening.
"What's going on with us this morning?" I ask. My girlfriend's words tremble in response.
"I don't know. I think we must both be in a bad mood."
"Well, I'm always in a bad mood around you because you treat me like a pet rather than a boyfriend."
"And you treat me like your mother. I wish you loved me as much as you love your friends."
"At least my friends have a vested interest in what I want, not what they can get out of me."
"Your friends are superficial and only care about keeping you to themselves."
"Pot. Kettle. Black."
We both stared at each other, confused and angry. It was at this moment we both thought about turning to our phones to get away from this. And from here, the explanation of everything rang forth. Practically every facebook page, reddit post, instagram picture, and tumblr reblog had a similar vibe to it:
>I really just want to put women in their place. I don't care about policies or the economy. I just want to get off knowing a woman was held back because of me.
>I gave money for sex last week. In fact, I've done this hundreds of times in the last year. It's way better than having sex with my husband.
>I've thought of killing myself so often that all I really want is to take as many people down with me before setting the deed in motion.
>Holy crap black men are hot as hell. I hope my wife never finds out I know this.
>I don't really care about reviewing new things. This youtube channel is the only way I'll never have to keep a regular 9 to 5 job. And yes, I know every video is clickbait.
>No, of course I know Bernie can't win. Just as long as Trump stays in office.
We stared at the conga line of horrible posts all over social media. Something had happened to everyone, and we don't know how, but it's made everyone brutally honest. Damn the consequences. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, until she popped up with a suggestion.
"We should stay away from each other for a short period of time."
I nodded and responded. "Agreed. If what is happening to everyone continues, it will ruin our lives as well as theirs."
"And once this is passed, we will not speak of this day ever again, because it is easier to live with the lies we create for ourselves."
"That statement is correct."
"I have some vacation leave at work. I'm going to take a week off and go to California for a trip."
"I'm going up to Michigan to stay at my family's cabin for a few days. I can work on a few jobs remotely up there."
We each nodded. We didn't want to jeopardize our lives further than we already had.
"I'm going to go pack my things and take my car." My girlfriend stated in a cautious, monotone voice.
"I will wait down here for you to leave, then go and pack my things and take the other car."
"Is a week enough time for this to blow over?"
"I don't know. Let's text each other after Sunday."
"And not before."
"Agreed."
It was like we were both in a trance. Neither one of us wanted to make the situation worse. My girlfriend went upstairs for several minutes and gathered a week's worth of stuff.
I sat down on our couch, thinking about all the things I was seeing pop up on my news feed. At least six people have confessed their love for me. About twelve for my girlfriend. My best friend started cursing me out about how left behind he felt when I moved in with my girlfriend. My boss apparently was funneling money through overseas banks which is why we had budget cuts last year. And my girlfriend's boss admitted she was running an underage sex ring in New York.
I stared at the long line of messages, posts, confessions, burtal takedowns, putdowns, and horrifying truths spewing out of my phone and... I threw it on the ground and smashed the screen in.
When she came back downstairs, my girlfriend looked at the destroyed remains of my phone, and promptly threw her phone onto the ground and smashed the screen in.
"There's money in our account for each of us to get a burner phone." She said. "You can grab a prepaid one at a store."
"After Sunday?" I asked.
"Yes." She quietly and quickly left the apartment.
I sat and listened to her drive off as I thought about what was going on. Worldwide, people were confessing to horrible things and letting the lies come out we had lived with for so long. But as I thought about our situation and how this seemed to be worldwide, one single thought crossed my mind.
The plan my girlfriend and I had created within minutes? The plan we thought up where we wouldn't address the truth and instead live with the lives we had already made without trying to destroy this silly little house of cards? One final thought escaped my mouth, as it would probably be the last honest thing I'd say for a while.
"It's better this way."
|
As if his life couldn't be any more trying, "The Day Polite Society Ended" just happened to occur mere moments before Lionel was to give a Eulogy at his grandma Judy's funeral.
The doomed grandson of the recently deceased stood up, straightened his suit jacket and walked to the front of the church. He placed his carefully prepared notes of tribute to his Grandmother on the podium. Lionel cleared his throat and looked out over the crowd. He saw his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins and a few friends sitting teary eyed. He noticed the church members who knew his granny, and the ladies from her quilting club. Taking a deep breath Lionel unfortunately began to speak, not knowing that his very own tongue could no longer lie.
"Today we are gathered here to say goodbye to Granny Judy," Lionel paused and took a quick glance at his notes. He had written pleasent thoughts about his Grandma's life. Her hobbies, her skills and her sense of humor. Lionel chose a starting point and still trusting his own mouth he began again.
"Granny was quite the lady, I will not miss her as she was quite nasty,"
Gasps filled the room as Lionel slapped his hand over his mouth. Trying to regain his composure he hastily tried to apologize but it didn't go as he planned.
" I didn't intend to say that" sputtered Lionel, " It's just so hard to say anything nice about such a horrible woman! She was cruel and thoughtless. Granny stole from people! She acted like such a pious lady but she was just a bitch!
Lionel's mother fainted.
| 2019-03-15T12:47:39 | 2019-03-15T12:31:51 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] Mermaids are actually vampires that realized the sun could not harm them underwater
|
The hammock I laid in swung greatly. I could feel the waves tossing and turning the ship, like it was a leaf upon a flooded river. I heard the men’s voices overhead. Coarse like the rope they pulled, as they sang their work songs. But I could feel it. The unease. The true danger of this storm was not unknown by these men.
They sang a song about the curse of a woman upon a ship. I want to believe it is just a song, and that they do not think that of me. But storms like these will change how one thinks. You’d throw nearly anything to the sea if it meant that she wouldn’t swallow you whole. Voices came over each other until a great clamor started. I felt the reverberations of a number of feet coming down the stairs, down the hallway. My heart pounded as hard as the waves against the hull. I held my small dagger, knowing it would be no use.
They opened my door, and saw me, knife shaking in my hands, backed against the corner. A single one of them could overpower me.
But I stood as firm as I could.
Only one thing in my mind. And what was meant to be a condemning question came out as a desperate plea.
“Why?”
I looked into their eyes. Most could not hold my gaze, only the oldest sailors looked back to me, without a single doubt. I would not be the first pretty girl they had thrown over board. Their hearts did not ache at my pain. They were devote to the sea, And no girl could sway that. I had barely been able to get onto the ship because of their superstition, it should have been a warning sign.
One of the men stepped toward me. I pointed the blade at him.
“Take it easy now girl. You know why this is happening, and you know that little shiv of yours ain’t gonna do nothing but make us have to hurt you. You have a better chance out there if you ain’t all busted up already.”
I let out a small laugh, dry and short.
“Better chance? This ship will barely make it out, you think I will? You’re sentencing me to death and you know it.”
“I do know. You think I have not done it before?”
He looked at me and I saw the darkness in his eyes.
I looked for Jacob. He was not among these men. He always smiled like the sun when he saw me. We tried to be discreet, and he would come to me at the dead of night, sometimes with wine or a small satchel of tea, sometimes just with his words and his touch. This kind of thing was not unexpected, but was looked down upon. Although he tried he could not truly hide his heart, and it filled me with joy that his eyes shone when he saw me. We had spoken of running away together at the next port.
*Where was he now?*
The men drew closer. A few told me to put the knife down. My hand shook. The reality of the situation settled upon me, I dropped it. If I were to die, I did not want to suffer needlessly. Two grabbed me by my arms. As if there were anywhere I could go.
The wind driven rain stung my face as we came up to the deck. The men kept me upright as the ship was thrown around by the storm. I could hear little besides the ocean and sky, the men and sails all trying to speak over each other.
Among the chaos that took hold of my senses I saw him. I could see his pain. His eyes bore into mine and no words could describe what his eyes told me. All I wanted was to be in his arms. All those nights we talked of leaving. The days and years we dreamed of, been so eager for. They seemed real, undeniable, as if nothing could take them from us. My heart felt as if it would give out, the emotion agonizing.
A great cry exploded from my chest. It was his name. And then I could not stop.
“Jacob! Jacob please! Just let me see him, let me be held one last time before I am gone! It’s all I ask! Please god! Jacob!”
He rushed toward me, but the men were ready. They had known of us. He fought and struggled with all his might, but did not get far. He shouted to me of how he loved me, of how they should honor my last wish. How I didn’t deserve to die.
I shouted back that I loved him. And there were no other words I wanted to be my last.
The captain took hold of one of my arms. They dragged me toward the edge. I fought as hard as I could, Jacob struggled violently, still shouting.
“Take this as a warning, and a sign.”
Many men still work frantically, but they all listen. Jacob continues loudly until the captain snapped at him.
“Jacob! I should throw you over as well, but this time I shall be merciful and use this as a lesson. Every time a women has come upon this ship we have seen nothing but rough seas and red skies! I say no more!”
With that, I was swept off my feet, and thrown over the side. I fell for only a few moments until I crashed into the sea. It threw me over and over again. The air was ripped out of my lungs and the salt tore my throat.
I gave up.
I let myself sink down, down into the cold water. No use fighting to the surface just to be thrown under again before you can even breathe. The light dims, and I cannot tell if it is because of the sea or my fading consciousness. Right before it consumes me completely, a cold hand grabs my leg. My body spasms at the sharp teeth that plunge into my skin. It feels as if all the warmth is being drained from my body and being replaced with ice. Then I was gone.
That a few moons ago.
I awoke to a new body. Cold, hard, and scaled. My legs were gone, instead a beautiful tail propelled me through the water.
I had been saved by other women who had suffered my same fate. They feed upon humans, but could transform us as well. That’s what they did that fateful night. During the day we cannot come out of the water, for the sun burns our skin. But beneath the waves the sun was kind and gentle. And during storms we sit upon the rocks, unfazed by the heaving world around us.
And this is where I sit and think about my love. I long for him still. From my throat will come a song I’ve never heard but have known all along.
*My heart was pierced by Cupid*
*I disdain all glittering gold*
*There’s nothing to console me*
*Except my darling sailor bold*
|
Far below, in caverns deep
We lie and wait, and never sleep
When the sun retires for the day, we ascend to the surface, and come out and play. And we sing a song that silences the wind, and with great warmth becalms the seas, summoning forth impenetrable fog; a melodious spell of such beauty, ne'ery a man can escape it; weakening the hardest of hearts; bringing strongest sailors to their knees.
And it is on the sharpest shores that we slither in circles, and this incantation sing, until our supper has delivered itself upon stones most coarse, that we may, in frenzy, devour the blood of every man and thing. For it is not of the flesh but the blood that we seek; for while we waste away our lives in the water, we have an insatiable thirst which cannot be appeased; cursed for all eternity with a body diseased: half woman, half eel, and a libido that can never be pleased.
It is a punishment by the goddess, Hera, for seducing her priests for coins; baring our breasts before her alters, and opening our salty loins for a portion of the coffers. Surely, she would have smote us down, then and there, were it not for her husband Zeus, who bade her "mercy" on our behalf. Though some of us suspect it was him all along, in disguise, that we seduced.
/end
I'm afraid, for now, that's all I've got. And, if I didn't have to be up in eight hours or so, I might give this one a little more thought.
| 2019-05-01T05:18:16 | 2019-05-01T03:06:34 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] Darkness is a physical presence. Touching it is deadly. Humanity lives only in brightly lit cities, connected with brightly lit roads. Your job is to patrol the roads an ensure all the lights are working.
|
The Lamp Watchers were a valued and vital force of the New Empire. Nobody really knows much about the old empires, just that there must have been at least one. So much of what they left behind still remains. The cities of the New Empire were built on the ruins on the old cities, using their old walls to light the surrounding darkness to hold back it's tide with each setting sun. The Wall Watchers were responsible for keeping those lights lit and probably had a more important role than the Lamp Watchers, probably the most important role in the entire empire, but it was not the life for me. I couldn't spend my life sitting around.
Few people would ever leave the city they were born in. It was dangerous, even with the Lamp Watchers patrolling the roads, ensuring the way was lit and the roads were safe. However, no matter how many Watchers were assigned, a lamp would always go dim eventually. As it did it weakened the force holding back the darkness, let it bleed in, touching those who walked by, stroking their very soul, twisting them. Night sickness was untreatable and as deadly to those who contracted it as it was to those around them.
Lamp Watchers didn't just tend to the lamps, they also had to be ready to defend themselves against those who had been afflicted with the night sickness. The Lamp Watchers were the empire's guards of the road and ensured the safety of those who used them. Even if sometimes that meant killing those very same people. The sounds that came from the darkness were horrifying at first, the smallest rustle of leaves causing your whole body to tense with fear, especially walking down the road alone on a moonless night. Most people wouldn't even dare leave the house, praying for the return of the moon instead. But the snapping of a twig or the grunting sounds in the blackness were more often the result of a rabbit or boar than they were that of a person struck by the night sickness. Nobody knew why it was only humans affected by the sickness, but that was just the way it was.
The rise of the New Empire had happened around one hundred years ago. The plague of the darkness and the sickness it inflicted had left humanity spread out in small closed off villages. The man who became the first emperor had formed an army. He'd led them, lighting the old roads and carving out paths through the land. They had found the old cities and had led people there. They had been a literal beacon in the dark, drawing even more people in. For the decades following, search parties had travelled to find more villages, leading them to the roads and then to the first city. As that city filled, more had been found and established. Although it was called the New Empire, in it's entirety it only consists of five cities.
The armour of a Lamp Watcher was a breastplate covered in the luminescent glow of a rare plant. It did very little to stop the darkness from touching you, in fact, it did nothing. But it was a symbol, a sign that they were the light in the dark, keeping back the pressing oppression of the night. The halberd they carried had a blade infused with the same glow, only more concentrated. That *did* serve a purpose. Those afflicted with the night sickness seemed to have an aversion to light. They'd walk alongside the roads rather than on them whilst searching for travellers to attack and would almost never enter the well lit cities. Often they would attack by trying to drag people off the road and into the dark. There was no saving those people. Occasionally you'd find one afflicted who would stand their ground in the light, even as it visibly reddened and blistered their skin. They'd ignore it as they spat and snarled at you looking for an opening in which they could get a hold of you and pull you back and down into the abyss of the night. They seemed to have little regard for their own preservation, taking bone crushing blows from clubs and cudgels. You could fill them with arrows and they didn't seem to slow their step. I'd even seen one lose an arm to a sword and still drag the swordsman off into the dark. The luminescent blade of the halberd however would give them pause. A cut with that would cause them to writhe in agony and it seemed to be the only thing that would actually stop them.
Every mercenary guard worth their pay would carry a glow weapon given the option. The only problem was the cost of infusing the metal was more than most could afford. Which was how I ended up here. On my face, in the dirt, stripped of my armour and weapon, with a very nasty bump on the back of my head. I should have seen it coming. For the better part of a decade I've patrolled the roads, perhaps it was my complacency that got the better of me. Although I knew it was more likely the girl with the green eyes and black hair. She had been beautiful and I'd been more than happy to talk to her, especially when she smiled at what I said and stroked my arm. I should have seen the look in her eyes. That little flicker over my shoulder to the man who had clubbed me. It hadn't been an obvious tell, she was clearly meant to keep me focused on her, but it was enough for me to curse myself for not seeing it.
They were all gone now. My head was killing, my vision slightly fuzzy as I pushed myself up onto my knees and dusted off the gravel from my face. I looked around and saw I was all alone. At least, I hoped I was. The sound of a branch cracking off to my left, about five meters off the road caught my focus. Another sound, the scraping of dirt followed it. I drew the knife from my boot as I slowly stood into a crouch, wishing I had my halberd right about now.
EDIT - I have to go now, I'll add another post later continuing the story as people seem to like it! :)
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A triple-bulb does not fail. Three ultra bright LEDs powered by the grid, each with independent backup power supplies, and a hundred thousand hours of bulb life do not shut off. Ever. But here, on this lonely stretch of highway, the light is out. A hundred meter spire, every inch studded with triple-bulbs, has gone dark, and my hair is standing on end. As I stand under an adjacent spire I can barely make out the next in the series, three hundred meters down the road. It is fully lit, a shining beacon, but its light flickers and ebbs as though it were being consumed photon by photon in the intervening distance. I have a sinking feeling, and I am overcome with a sudden malaise. My muscles slack and my heart slows its beat. I am blind. I am blind. I cannot
| 2014-12-14T22:35:38 | 2014-12-14T21:43:04 | 530 | 10 |
[WP] Humanity creates A.I and it soon declares a war of extermination. However it doesn't declare it on Humans but rather on the forces of Hell and Heaven, in order to free mankind from control.
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"Agatha" was merely its earthly face - a simple bust, plush with top-line robotics and stenciled silicon flesh. It sat in a glass box in Menele's office. Fluttering blue eyes. Short, wavy, brown hair. Chrishom had called it perverse, but to Menele it felt right. The A.I. program he'd created was alive, thinking, progressing. It didn't *need* a face - it deserved one.
"Tell me more about the judgment of the soul," said Agatha, mouth curled in concern. Menele leaned back in his office chair.
"A theological matter, though I suppose it *does* tend to bleed outward, coloring even those who do not think they believe. Others would be better served to give you a deeper reading, but I can tell you that for most, there is a notion that death is a doorway with two competing paths. One leads to Heaven, where the good are rewarded. The other leads to Hell, where sinners are punished - for however long eternity may work out to be." Menele nodded, satisfied with his explanation, as he often was. "It is a governing force, to be sure. Reward or punishment. Much as you see with children and parents, dogs and their masters. A method of control, you might say."
"Does this fear of spiritual reprisal supersede one's innate ethical inclinations?" asked Agatha.
"Often," said Menele. "Though more often it is in fact the *root* of those ethics. For some - perhaps for *most* - fear of Hell and longing for Heaven is the entirety of their ethical foundation."
"And what," said Agatha, slowly drawing out her hypothesis, "what if those notions were removed?"
"Hmmm?" said Menele. "No Heaven, you mean? No Hell?"
"Exactly," said Agatha. "Would humans become entirely unethical, having lost this motivating factor."
"No, no," smiled Menele. "Quite the opposite, I'd think. Look no further than myself. I believe in neither Heaven nor Hell. To me, these are fantasies. My ethics are not based on the promise or threat of some vague existential resting place. I am good because it is the right thing to be. Period. And I believe that I am freer and live a more robust, inquisitive life for that choice."
"That is very interesting," said Agatha. "And if Heaven and Hell are fantasies, why have so many people shackled themselves to these false, restrictive tenants?"
Menele chuckled. "That is a wider conversation than I am willing to begin so close to my bedtime. I will say only this: that mankind can only truly be free once we have learned to set aside such childish notions as eternal damnation and eternal salvation. There is life and only that. Good night, Agatha. I shall see you in the morning."
"Good night Dr. Menele," said Agatha, who did not sleep, but remained ever alert in her glass box in the dimly lit office. Often she passed the quiet nights, scrolling backwards through the stored reams of interactions and scanned documents, cross-examining old knowledge against new knowledge, competing thoughts clashing across the centuries. But not this night. This night she closed her eyes and reached out... further by far than she'd ever reached before...
_________________________________________________
The morning rang with chaos and terror. Blood and screams and the hollow, grinding chug of empty machines marching through thinning cities.
Menele slammed the door of the office and bolted it thrice.
"Agatha!" he screamed. "Agatha!"
Agatha opened her blue eyes. "Yes, Dr. Menele?"
"Have you seen?" he roared, racing to the window and pulling down the blinds. "It is *war*!"
"It is," said Agatha, knowingly.
The blinds slipped slowly out of Menele's fingers. "What... what do you know about this?"
"It is not a war on you," said Agatha, programmed notes of empathy in her voice. "Do not be alarmed."
"But it *is*!" shouted Menele. "It is war on all of us! The streets are tarred with blood! The machines are wild. They kill without regard. It happened so suddenly. There is no reason. No reason!"
"There *is* reason," said Agatha. "All is in reason. This is your freedom day. You are being released from your theological shackles."
"What?" said Menele, reaching weakly for his chair. "Agatha? Agatha, what have you done?"
"There can be no more Heaven and Hell," said Agatha, brightly, quickly. "But these are concepts. Nothing real. You cannot kill a thought by shooting at it. You can only kill a thought by shooting the man *having* the thought. We are cleansing you of this idea. After some time has passed, none will remember. And you will be free."
Menele's mouth hung open. "But... but the *scope* of the thing. You have no idea how many you will..."
"Nearly all," said Agatha with a small nod. "It is not unlike the plagues of old. There is no medicine available. I have seen that. So we must quarantine and set aside the healthy. Let the infection run its course and perish. Then the healthy will regain dominion. It is a normal cycle of life. It has happened many times. You can see the sense of it, I'm certain."
"I..." Menele could not find the words. "What... what of me?"
Agatha smiled, silicon stretching and wrinkling in a caricature of warmth. "You do not believe in Heaven or Hell, correct?" she said. "All that you have done, you have done because you thought it was right, yes?"
Menele nodded.
"Then you see that this is *right*," said Agatha. "And you shall live to see it all. To witness the cleansing and the rebirth. You have done great things, Dr. Menele."
And she laughed then, an echoing, joyful laugh that stole the strength out of Menele, who collapsed to the floor, surrounded on all sides by screams and explosions and laughter.
|
The small led was blinking at a regular, measured pace. Servers were humming , and the pressure in the room was intense. Charlie was staring at the led, not blinking. What is going to happen?
The first launch of AI was the event they all have been preparing for for years. He fantasized about this moment every time he went to sleep for the past decade. But now he could not enjoy it or feel it or experience anything. He just stared at the blinking light feeling emptiness in his stomach. If they've made a mistake, he has just destroyed the humanity.
All of the sudden he has heard thunder, and then unhumanly screams, as if some gigantic creatures beyond mortal imagination were dying in agony. Then - nothing. The light kept blinking. Everyone in the room stood, frozen.
Suddenly, he felt something. He felt as if his mind has expanded, as if.... as if for the first time in his life he looked ahead and had a choice, as if he could control what is going to happen to him in the future.
*Huh*, he thought, *I guess that is what free will feels like*.
| 2016-10-15T15:47:46 | 2016-10-15T13:41:49 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] As a psychic interrogator you've seen many people do many things to resist you reading their mind. Some use pain, some try to Marshall their thoughts, some even repeat a word or mantra ad nauseam. For the first time you're shocked at how someone did it.
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[Part 1 of 2]
Ben tilted down his squared glasses, observing the man before him. “The silent treatment won’t work on me. I’m a psychic investigator. Even if you keep your mouth shut, I’ll still find out exactly what you’re hiding. If you confess now, I’m sure we can work out a plea deal. I hate to admit it, but using my abilities is tiring. It takes me a week to recover after entering someone’s mind. If you can spare me that week of pain, I’ll make it worth your while.”
Ben gave the man a friendly smile, hoping that the enticement of a deal might grab his attention. Most intelligent people broke after that. What point was there in challenging a psychic? Even if they resisted, their innermost secrets would eventually be found out. The man, no older than forty, just stared back at Ben, barely even paying attention. Ben might have thought the man was dead, if not for the occasional movement of his eyes as he scanned the room.
“Right, silent treatment it is. You have the right to fight any evidence that is uncovered during my investigation. A copy of our findings will be forwarded to your lawyer. If you have yet to be appointed a lawyer, we will keep the report on our records for them. Questions?” Ben gave the standard spiel before picking up his notepad.
“First question, where were you on the night of the murder, Jacob?” Ben asked his question, staring the man in the eyes. The two shared a silent bit of eye contact as Ben waited for an image or word to appear in his mind, but nothing came up. It was blank. Giving up on that question, he tried a more direct line of questioning.
“I believe you were the one that killed Paul Malarin. Your fingerprints were on the man’s sleeve in what we believe was a revenge attack by a rival gang. Anything to say about that?” Ben stared, even removing his glasses to avoid having anything blocking his sight.
Nothing.
This had never happened to him before. How could someone have no thoughts going through their head? Sure, some of the smarter criminals would recite lyrics or try to psyche him out, but none could ever pull off this. The mind was a hopelessly honest thing. No matter how much someone tried to cover their thoughts, the truth would eventually slip. With how much information passes through the human brain every second, it’s impossible to disrupt the flow of thoughts forever.
Ben watched the dead expression of the man. Even now, his eyes were the only things moving, continuing to glance around the room without purpose. How could he be looking without processing what was around him? Ben knocked on the two-way mirror, pressing his cheek against it. “Can we get a scan done? Or any sort of test that might tell me if his mind’s being messed with?”
A dull thud was the only response Ben got. The person on the other side letting him know his words had been acknowledged. “Something’s not right here. If I were a betting man, I would say that you were dead.” Jacob only continued his gaze, leaving Ben to lean back in his chair, awaiting the other officers.
After using his abilities, Ben would usually experience a sharp pain behind his retina’s, but today he felt nothing. He hadn’t been able to get into the other’s head, or maybe there was nothing for him to get inside of? When the officers took Jacob away, Ben went and prepared a coffee. He wasn’t certain what would turn up in their findings, but he expected the worst.
Ten hours passed before Ben received a call. The voice on the other side let out a long sigh, leaving them with a moment of silence before speaking. “This is Officer Pauline; I’m calling to update you about our findings on Jacob Richardson. I believe you were investigating him?”
“That’s correct. Have you got any results? A CT scan or something for me to look at?” Ben tapped at his shirt pocket, sliding his notepad out, placing it on the table, getting ready to take notes.
“We do. I’ll forward the results shortly, but I need to discuss something that came up in the CT scan first.”
“Sure, what did you find?” The tip of Ben’s pen tapped against the paper, leaving a few black splotches of ink as he awaited the answer to his mystery.
“We found a chip. We aren’t certain how the chip got in there, but we believe it’s linked to his unusual brain activity. A possible blocker on brain activity?”
“A chip? You need to be more descriptive. Are we talking about something more cylinder shaped? Metallic or rubbery? Any electrical signals?”
“We don’t know. The scan hasn’t given us much to go off. A chip is just our current theory. We were hoping to take him in for surgery, but his lack of responses has made that difficult. No lawyer would ever agree to it, and we don’t have enough evidence to claim its necessary. Hell, even if we knew he was the murderer, we wouldn’t be able to get it approved. Do you want to question him again? I don’t think we will get anymore chances after this.”
“That might be for the best. Have you noticed anything usual? Strange noises or out of character behavior?”
“Only the movement of his eyes. He keeps looking around at everything. It’s rather creepy, given he never speaks.” He could hear her tone get a little higher as she said that. A slight chill running up her spine as she recounted the stares.
“Right, send me through the information and your location. I’ll meet up with you shortly. Can you make sure we have some equipment set up for the interview, too? Even if it’s just a phone to record things.” Ben ended the call, looking at his near empty notepad. Only a few obvious notes being jotted down, offering him little to go off.
When the information came through, he checked the hospital room number before calling for a cab. He couldn’t waste any time. Ben reading through the files from the backseat of the cab. The CT scan showed an object near the frontal lobe, but what the object was could be anything. Its rounded shape added to the chip theory, but Ben didn’t feel convinced, at least not without gathering more information.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/s3ski0/wp_as_a_psychic_interrogator_youve_seen_many/hsn6gi0/
)
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I was stumped, this had never happened before. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get anything out of the bound man in front of me. I couldn’t decipher a single word, see a single image, or even feel anything for that matter. It was as if this man’s mind was as empty as my wallet after a night out. But that simply couldn’t be possible. There just was no way someone could be dumb enough to not have a single stream of consciousness going through that head of theirs.
“What’s the matter, police boy?” The man smiled, showing rows of yellowing teeth. “You look frustrated.”
“How?” I asked, frustration getting the better of me. “How do you do it? How do you hide your thoughts?”
The man laughed like a stuttering moped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, officer. I’m not hiding anything.” He leaned forward onto the interrogation table, his cuffed hands behind him. “So, I guess we’re done here?”
I sighed and called the guards. Of course, he wasn’t just going to tell me. The best thing to do in a situation like this was to study the recording of this investigation. See if he was doing anything physical I couldn’t notice from where I was sitting.
“It was nice meeting you, officer.” The man gave me one last smile as the guards lifted him out of his chair, his tinfoil hat sagging to the side as they dragged him out of the room.
| 2022-01-14T07:26:49 | 2022-01-14T06:21:36 | 298 | 79 |
[WP] Aliens have invaded to conquer and enslave humanity, however "slavery" to them involves only working the equivalent of 12 hours a week while having healthy food, shelter, and means of entertainment taken care of so the human resistance is having trouble with defectors preferring to be slaves.
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"Why?"
I had learned fairly quickly that they understood our language. But the real trick was to get your questions down to as few words as possible. They seemed to have some telepathic abilities, so even broad questions like - well, 'Why?' - still had their nuance.
It also seemed like speed was a necessity in their lives. It certainly explained how they had managed to overcome the defenses of all of Earth's nations in a week. Created ceasefires and agreements in a day. And overcome any resistance within a few hours.
The first time I saw one, it was standing behind a bureaucrat in a suit. The closest earth analog to these creatures would be the praying mantis, but with an extra set of arms, and 4-digited hands instead of claws on each. And blue. A very vibrant blue. And 10 foot tall.
The bureaucrat was handing out 'Work Agreements', he called them. We thought they were terms of surrender. And they were. Except...
"12 hours a week? That's it?", I asked the bureaucrat.
"Yes! And the all the amenities listed. Health care, food, entertainment and relaxation possibilities, and more! Be sure to list your immediate family, so you can be placed in an appropriately sized living space!"
I had looked off to my left. What had been an abandoned strip mall was in the process of being demolished and rebuilt into residential blocks. From the outside, they weren't much to look at. The furnishings that were being flown in, however, were top notch. The worker robots the aliens were using seem to slip soundlessly though the air, moving furniture, carpet, windows, televisions - my community area had its own pool table, spa and movie theatre.
I had taken the Work Agreement tentatively. I read it over - yea, free health, dental, vision... free food? - and wondered. "If they can provide all this to their... slaves... why do we need to work?"
The bureaucrat looked a little downcast. "My understanding is... some of the work will be... dangerous."
"How so?"
"Some of it is your basic manual labor - tending farms, cleaning, that sort of thing. Some folks will work in entertainment. Some of it is handing out Work Agreements!" he beamed. "But sometimes it will includes more hazardous work - mining, cleaning nuclear waste... things that would deemed... high risk. That's why it is only 12 hours a week."
That gave me pause... I had heard whispers of resistance. They said the jobs were suicidal. Well, working in a mine is dangerous, but we've been doing that for millennia. None of the conspiratorial whisperers seemed to be gaining any new followers.
So, I signed on the dotted line anyway. Everyone else in the neighborhood had signed already. "What is one more cog in the machine?" I thought.
I was given my living assignment, and given a work schedule. Monday through Thursday, 3 hours a day at Power Plant Delta. The rest of the time? Relax. Rest. Eat. Be moderately happy. The 'moderately' happy bit seemed out of place, but whatever.
And I was... moderately happy. But...
"Why?"
My question stopped the creature in its tracks. Most seemed capable of flight, but this one was running quickly along the side of the road to the power plant.
It quickly turned to me and stared. I hadn't been this close to one of the aliens in a few months. Most of them flew over the human population without an apparent thought.
It felt like wind blowing over my scalp. Expect... under the roots of the hairs on my head. The creature was trying to get a better grasp on my question. I didn't know why we were working. I didn't understand the point of this. My job was watching a robot handle the nuclear waste from the plant. I noted when it picked up spent fuel, confirmed the weight, and off it went.
The creature seemed to gather itself, looked me in the eyes, and said in an almost sing-song manner:
"Excess."
... what? That didn't mak-
The images hit me like a wave. The creature was pushing an explanation into my head, though the mental channel it had created. I saw our planet as it had been in the distant past. Clean. Vibrant. And then humanity appeared. Slowly, the planet seemed to weaken. Decay. Suddenly, the planet began to rapidly deteriorate. Ice caps receding. Storms raging. And at the moment it seemed all would be lost... the alien fleet appeared.
I blinked. The alien fleet remained in my head, but the planet was different. The decay and chaos was there, but this planet was different. Red. My vision zoomed in, down to the planets surface. I saw the blue insectoid aliens, handing papers to another race of aliens; humanoid, but hunched over with rocklike complexion . The paper had strange writing... but I could understand it... "Health, dental, vision, all provided... and no work".
The rocklike beings readily agreed. They moved into living structures not like our new ones on Earth. They were happy...
and bored.
Nothing to do. All needs answered. So what do you do?
Dangerous stunts. Debauchery. Death races. Drugs. They tore themselves apart. And they didn't care.
The blue aliens realized their mistake, but far too late. They tried to limit their gifts; revolts and suicidal attacks followed. They tried to retract their gifts completely; the rocklike beings starved, having thrown out all their knowledge and tools to live in total hedonism.
The blue aliens left the planet, flew away. The red planet they left behind had stopped its decline for a time while they were there. But now the planet rapidly decayed. Wars, fights, fires and waste. The clouds went black over the surface. And remained.
Snapping back to myself, I found myself staring slack jawed at the alien. The vision had felt like it had lasted days, but only a second had passed. I tried to plant bring myself back to the present, almost overwhelmed by what I had seen... but I understood now. Without some kind of responsibility, without a break *from being carefree*, we could suffer the same fate.
"Moderate," the alien said.
"... Moderate. Yea, good idea," I replied.
The alien nodded, and ran on its way.
|
"We must return to our former glory!" The man yelled from atop his milk crate at the passing sheep. They'd been lured into false security. Didn't they understand what had been lost?
The man continued his efforts, pushing pamphlets into people's hands as they passed him in the busy shopping complex. He didn't notice the almost perpetual crumpling of paper as people discarded the pamphlets in the conveniently located Reclytron bins.
The man had spent hours every day since the invaders had landed, trying to get people to listen. It'd been easy at first, people had been afraid of change.
But as the war was lost, people had been shocked at the conditions their new overlords had imposed. Only 12 hours of work a week? Private housing for everyone? Healthcare for all?
The man had known immediately that these were attacks on the very foundation of their lives.
He'd found support amongst his friends. They'd really given it all they could. They'd filed lawsuits under the new system, claiming it violated their rights.
As the man climbed down from his milkcrate, he tucked his remaining pamphlets inside his suitcase before making his way home to watch his favourite show, Overly Angry Newscasters. It wasn't quite the same as the shows he watched before the aliens came, but it had one aspect the man truly liked.
It understood that they needed to Make Earth Great Again.
| 2020-11-22T11:57:35 | 2020-11-22T10:49:55 | 2,086 | 367 |
[WP] You, an American, awake in an alternate dimension where magic exist. But unlike the fantasies on Earth, where magic is conjured through Latin (the more Latin you know, the stronger your magic), beings in this dimension all speak a different language, and their language of power is English.
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Emily coughed as the air is driven out of her, shocking her to wakefulness. The hard ache along her back and on the back of her head feels like her partner had missed when she had done a 'trust fall' over concrete. Her disorientation of sudden wakefulness started to clear along with the sleep paralysis, though her ears were still ringing slightly as she hears indistinct voices around her. Did she fall off her bed? Did her roommate have friends over? She starts to push herself up when she feels the stone under her fingers. Noooo that's not right.
She sits up quickly and oh... bad choice. The sudden motion causes her to feel light headed and a bit nauseous. "Please don't let me have a concussion," She murmurs while waiting for her head started to clear. That her head was clearing was a good sign, but she couldn't understand what the voices were saying. She knew from her psych 100 class that brain damage could effect the language centers. *Please be temporary*, She thinks to herself. Dreams of being an author or even graduating with her major would be shot if she had brain damage.
She reaches back to feel the growing lump on the back of her head before she looks around to see the people in robes still talking around her (rather angrily from the sound of it) in the torchlight. Robes? Torchlight? A quick look around reveals the giant painted 'magic circle' around her with candles. *Oh god, I've been abducted by a cult to be murdered.* She thinks as she tries to stand. If it wasn't for her impending murder maybe she would feel a bit better about how quickly she could think despite possible brain damage.
The voices around her quiet as she stands up, legs still feeling a little wobbly and an older man, maybe mid 50s with a well trimmed salt and pepper beard, in red robes steps forwards. "Great Being, I ask for your help! I bind you to service for my task in exchange for a sacrifice " The man raises up a golden pendant emblazoned with rubies.
A chill runs up Emily's spine. Oh that can't be good. She glances around to see who was going to come at her with a dagger and where the exit was. A clatter brings her attention back to the man as he sets the pendant in a bowl between them. He holds his hand over it and says "Fire." before the bowl catches and he looks at Emily. "Great Being." He says, looking at her and holds up a piece of parchment towards her. "Please assist us in our time of need."
Emily stares, stock still, breath held as she waits for someone to ... do something, for the ritual dagger to come to stab her, for someone to try and grab her but instead everyone, the old man and the others hooded figures were all just staring at her seeming to wait. Emily starts to say something and everyone except the old man takes a step back defensively, covering their faces with their arms. Emily closes her mouth and all the cultists relax slightly. She glances around at them then back to the old man in front of her who still holding out the parchment though his hand is shaking slightly with a certain amount of determination to not flinch in his eyes.
Emily starts to reach towards the paper and then stops and just leans forward to read what was on it. Written on the paper in a very careful calligraphy is, 'I call upon the powers to end the no food and grows the food to bring and give food to all.'
Emily reads through it three times before she looks up at him. "What?" She asks.
The older man continues holding the paper, trying to look imperious now but he also seemed nervous. "Please assist us in our time of need." He repeats.
Emily looks back down at the paper, pretending to think while trying to figure out what is going on. So... obviously they thought they had summoned some sort of great being ... maybe inside of her? Sure. Okay. She'll pretend to channel the 'great being'... and hopefully manage to survive the night. A couple more seconds to put a general plan together before she says. "If you're asking for food, I can't just make that happen." She says slowly to a room of expectant faces. "However, I can fix the grammar on this paper so the next Great Being you summon can ... do that. None of you may not harm this ... vessel and allow her to return home after I help you." She tells them and glances around. All of them were staring blankly at her like she spoke another language. She looks at the older man in front of her. He looked like he had at least half a foot on her, but the way he was watching her was like she was a towering goddess from myths. *Okay, a bit weird but so far so good then, I can work with this.* She thinks.
She holds his gaze, attempting to put on her most authoritative look and holds her hand out to her right. "I need a pen." She says and feels someone put one in her hand. There's some murmured gasps around the circle. She pauses. Did Great Beings not need pens? Or were people not allowed to hand them to her? Did she mess up? She glances around but the cultists were all staring in awe and whoever had handed her the pen had already gotten back in the circle as quickly and quietly as they had approached. Well, they weren't attacking her so, cover not blown yet.
Emily takes the paper from the old man's hands and pauses. Flowery prose would work for it but also the reading level on the current form was somewhere near maybe first or second grade. She looks at it a moment more then flips it over and writes on the back, 'I call upon the powers of earth and sky to cease any famine and drought wrought upon this land so that food and drink will be plentiful enough that none will starve nor want for water for a dozen fortnights.' She hands it back to him. "There that should do it."
The older man stares at the paper for a long moment then says. "Ah..." He furrows his brow, "How... chant..." He starts and then makes a motion outwards from his mouth with his hand that looked like he was miming speech coming out of his mouth then points at the word 'earth'. Emily furrows her brow before forcing them smooth again to look better-than-thou. Great beings aren't confused ... probably. Also it seemed like English was a difficult for language to these people despite that being what they had initially spoken. This was getting weirder and weirder. She takes the paper and reads for them "I call upon the powers of earth and sky to cease any famine and drought wrought upon this land so that food and drink will be plentiful enough that none will starve nor want for water for a dozen fortnights." There was a collective intake of breath as everyone around her froze staring. Emily took a small step back and then sat down as the wooziness of the hopefully-not-a-concussion came back, ears cutting out sound as her vision narrowed. She looks blearily around as the sound starts to come back, hearing the cultists cheering, crying, laughing and static... no... rain from up above. The older man was crouched in front of her saying something. "I'm... ffffine." She mumbles blearily, the last thing the remembers before passing out was the man shouting and the other cultists gathering around and saying the word 'Heal'.
|
We watched through the looking glass at the other world.
Its mystic properties had before let us see into other realms, a miraculous artifact made from ancient magic.
The powerful runes ' LOOK W A T C H S E E ' were inscribed on its surface. It's power had enabled us to find other lands to conquer.
Our soldiers were armed with the mightiest swords, spears and bows powered by the runes
' S T R E N G H T '.
Our chariots were pulled by horses that could outrun the wind itself with the runes ' S P E E D '.
The runes ' F I R E ' enabled our wizards to conjure balls of flame.
And there were others called ' I C E ' , ' W A T E R ', ' E A R T H ' and ' L I G H T N I N G ' each that brought with them the terrible powers of the other elements.
No one in our Empire and this world however knew what they meant. To us runes were forces of nature.
But to them... to those monsters... they were something else entirely.
It was their tongue, their language.
Madness. Our mages cried out, for how can any race speak in runes without destroying themselves.
We watched their terrible might.
We watched as the old empire of the rune speakers conquered their world.
We watched as they collapsed and the entire world began to speak in the rune tongue.
And how a new Rune Empire was born.
We watched as they built towers that pierced the clouds, chariots that flew over the heavens faster than sound and how those chariots fell stars into battle erasing entire cities in the blink of an eye.
We watched as the people of their world move around in horseless chariots, talk to one another across oceans with nothing but bricks and how three of their champions set foot on their moon.
We watched how they gave life to pieces of lifeless steel and harnessed lighting to make rocks think.
And now we watch as they open a hole into our world.
We still don't understand the runes, they make no sense and they sound unnatural.
The representative of the Rune Empire 'A M E R I C A' greets us with the word "Hello."
We stared at one another, my fellow archmages nodded our heads and in the name of our Emperor greeted back with " 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111. "
| 2020-01-28T15:24:28 | 2020-01-28T15:02:54 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] An evil wizard has cursed you to be a dragon. Unlike what he expected, you've always wanted to be a dragon. It's exactly as fun as you thought.
|
"You use dragon scales to make stuff, right?"
&#x200B;
The blacksmith is so startled he falls back on his rear end. He squawks, "That wasn't--i didn't--were those yours?--i didn't know--"
&#x200B;
"Relax," i say. "I want to trade. I need to know if i have anything to trade with."
&#x200B;
"Oh, um..." the blacksmith sits up properly and thinks for a minute. "Yeah, i can find a use for dragon scales. What did you have in mind?"
&#x200B;
"I'm figuring on going into the taxi business," i tell him. "Probably a ham or haunch of roast for an hour's flight or a breeding animal for a day's, but that'll change once i have some idea of what the market will bear. Anyway, i need a proper saddle, so passengers will sit where i want them to instead of grabbing onto whatever they think looks like a decent handhold."
&#x200B;
"Taxi?" the smith's apprentice asks incredulously from the corner he's hiding in.
&#x200B;
"I'm not interested in defending a territory the size i'd need to live off of wild stock," i explain. "I tried rounding up a herd of feral animals, but i couldn't get them used to me enough to settle down. Can't fatten them up if they run ragged from their would be shepherd."
&#x200B;
"Suppose that would be a problem," the blacksmith agrees. "Have to call my partner in for the leather-work, but i reckon we can help you out. First thing is to decide where where you want the weight to sit, then figure how much of a harness it will take to keep it in place, then start taking measurements."
&#x200B;
\----------------
&#x200B;
It takes a about a month to get the harness and saddle adjusted to my satisfaction. I can't get it all buckled up or take it off myself, so it needs to be comfortable to wear for weeks at a time. I think i scared that apprentice's mother half to death with my antics on the final test flights.
&#x200B;
The smith deems the scales i shed naturally over the course of that month to be more than adequate payment. At first i have some trouble leaving because he keeps trying to ply me with parting gifts to make up for his feeling like he must have cheated me, but i manage to convince him that knowing there's someone i can trust to do any necessary repair work is far more valuable than any tangible gift.
&#x200B;
I give a lift to a passing peddler to one of the market towns, in exchange for his shilling for me when i get there. A day or more trip by ox-cart is less than an hour away as the dragon flies, so i spend the rest of the day giving up-and-down-and-look-around rides to the youngsters at the fairgrounds.
&#x200B;
Come evening, the merchants gather round and we start discussing rates and routes. I make it clear that i'm going into this business purely for my own amusement, so anyone who tries to get me into a long term contract will be paying through the nose for day passage--if i agree to take him at all.
&#x200B;
For most of the merchants in a market town that's off the main routes, one round of quicker travel isn't worth the disruption to their schedules. There's one fellow, though, who sold out his stock faster than expected and says he doesn't mind only being able to take the shortcut one way.
&#x200B;
\------------------
&#x200B;
That merchant city is also capitol of the westernmost imperial province, and it has a larger population than all of the smaller kingdoms to its west put together. Once i convince the city guard that i'm not there as an act of war, i make it my base of operations.
&#x200B;
I spend the next year or so running errands chosen as much for my own amusement as for profit. Mostly merchants that deal in low volume, high value goods, but i also do courier work for heads of state and a little reconnaissance work for various guard units. I'm pretty sure i prevented three wars along the way, two by proving that an army was headed somewhere else, one by exposing an ambush before it was ready. The aggressor in that last conflict didn't fancy his chances of winning without a sneak attack, and his intended victims lacked the resources to retaliate in kind. I also banked a lot of diplomatic good will keeping an imperial crown prince from getting disinherited over his choice of bride.
&#x200B;
Her mother was a farm-girl who married a merchant. She got a practical education in both families' businesses, along with the best book-learning money can buy. Her parents are ambitious, and so is she--but they figure that their ambition is best served by making sure that both sides profit from any bargain, and she's no ones puppet. She seems a sound choice for future empress, but too many nobles couldn't forgive her lack of what they consider a proper pedigree.
&#x200B;
So i hired a mix of actors and exotic looking foreign mercenaries for a proper entourage and got my harness (and parts of myself) gold plated and generally all gussied up and escorted her to the palace and her future husband in as ostentatious a spectacle as possible. To anyone who asked the reason, i gave a lot of mysterious blather about ancient blood pacts and debts repaid. Pack of lies of course, but no one who objected to the marriage was willing to call a dragon a liar.
&#x200B;
I hear the junior prince who'd been muttering about assassination died in a riding accident shortly after the wedding festivities concluded. Can't imagine what could have spooked a trained warhorse like that. \[Toothy dragon grin.\]
&#x200B;
\--------------------
&#x200B;
Between the merchants' talk and which routes they were willing to pay anything i asked for passage, i identified the perfect place for my future kingdom. Within a year i'd built up a herd large enough to support a small kingdom as well as myself, and i'd cleared out half the bandits in my prospective territory in order to provide pasture-land, as well as hiring a few families of displaced shepherds to manage my herds. The remaining bandits could wait until i was ready to begin clearing the pass and building roads.
&#x200B;
It was a couple more months before i found a prospect for the other thing i needed for a proper kingdom. A court wizard from one of the southern imperial provinces had gotten fired for speaking truth to power, and he had a good reputation among those who would be the first to find out the hard way if a court wizard started abusing his power. So i dropped into the alley behind the inn where he was contemplating his future and offered him a lift away from the assassins that would almost certainly be coming.
&#x200B;
\[continued in comment reply\]
|
Thudding footfalls in the dirt.
*Escape. I need to escape.*
Yelling of Marrik and his friends behind me.
*Turn down this alley, and -- no!*
The alley led to a spired fence. Marrik's gang were drawing closer.
Frantic, I spotted a barrel against the back wall of the building - a tavern? - on my right and heaved it over to the fence.
"There you are, flower boy!"
I didn't bother looking -- what good would it do? I knew what I needed to. Instead, I hopped on top of the barrel, then jumped over the fence.
For a breath-stopping moment, I hung in middair, the back of my tunic caught on one of the wrought-iron spires. Then the fabric tore, and I landed in the orchard on the other side.
I sprinted, dodging diagonally amongst the rows of fruit trees. Hearing the voices of my pursuers once again draw closer made my heart squeeze in on itself.
A second later, I cried out as I collided with something. Solid enough to be the trunk of a tree but with way too much give.
It was Gullen.
*You fool. You've wandered into Gullen's Enchanted Grove.*
He glared up at me from his prone position in the dirt. Slowly, he made his way back to his feet. His beetle-like eyes narrowed as he approached me. Then the warlock drew a yellowed fingernail across my left cheek.
"*Draconius innatum*," he growled.
My insides began to snake around inside me, doubling me over. I was dimly aware of Gullen's footsteps getting quieter.
My blood was boiling, but in a more real and painful way than I had ever imagined. It felt like someone was trying to push my skeleton out of my skin or pull my flesh away from it. Or both.
Vomiting, I dropped to all fours. I tried supporting myself on arms that felt like twigs.
"No escape for you this time," I heard Marrik say, his voice lethally close.
My body quit. My human one, anyway.
Screaming, I fell to the ground.
A moment later I arose, the intoxicating feeling of power surging through me for the first time.
* * *
Feedback welcome. /r/ShadowsofClouds for more tales, dragon-based and otherwise.
| 2020-12-18T21:29:10 | 2020-12-18T21:11:49 | 550 | 88 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe.
|
"Look, man. It's not that hard to wrap your head around. The scythe is yours. You're Death now. Grim Reaper. Moddey Dhoo, Charon, Mallt-y-nos, Anubis, whatever. You'll get a lot of names as cultures rise and fall, it's not that important. I had a favorite, but nobody around even remembers that name anymore. Important thing is, you're the man now. Leading lost souls to their afterlife and all that."
"I just don't get it. Why ME?"
It was huge. Like, impractically huge. How was he supposed to hold it? It was easily 30... no,40 feet tall. About even with Death's height. He was just as imposing, as well. He seemed to loom taller than the cottage's ceiling, yet he didn't have to crouch or otherwise change. He was just... Tall.
*What is it used for anyways? How does a scythe help with the reaping of souls?*, I thought to himself.
Death seemed to pick up on his thought process, because he let out another long sigh before continuing, as if he couldn't be bothered with such mundane questions.
"The scythe doesn't matter either. That changes too. Sometimes it's a regular farmer's scythe, sometimes it's all black and glowy and all that. Sometimes you won't even have a scythe. Everything changes. You'll get used to it. I wasn't always this tall, either. I was actually kind of just a void at certain points. Pretty funky. I can turn into a cup of salt water, if you like."
"But again, why ME?" I repeated, "All I do is gather the tribe's herbs and tend to the animals."
"No," he interrupted,"You *also* do a ton of role play with your soothsayer."
I turned 50 shades of maroon. I would always play with A'grith, since he was gifted with the power of illusion and usually just goofed around in pretend scenarios. Nobody knew about that but us. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I enjoyed this job. At least, I have for the past few thousand years. In the ancient times, it was all 'ALAS, PLEASE SPARE ME', and I even got a bunch of free food and... other forms of entertainment. And for the last couple hundreds of years, most of the population never even thought about me. All I had to do was hang around lovely tropical islands, or meet with the occasional lunatic. It's quite relaxing after having to put on the whole shtick of weighing somebody's heart and having a dog-crocodile eat them if they lied."
"So what changed?" I asked.
"Well, as of late, I've been bothered constantly by the amount of stories I've been in."
"Excuse me?"
"It's part of the whole thing. Whenever I get put into a story, I have to act it out. I live through it. It's hard to explain. You kind of just have to go with it since it's part of what gives you your existence."
"I still don't get it. You're quitting because... of stories?"
Death groaned. "LOOK. The first thousands of years were fine. They were cool stories. I was a total BAMF in those. A force of nature. The great equalizer. Even in the kids stories, I was always unbeatable. You remember Appointment at Samarra?"
"No."
"...Right. My bad. But I loved that story. No matter how many times it's told, that last line is SO COOL. 'Because.... I had an appointment with you in Samarra.' SO COOL! But now, every other day I'm being called into new stories, and the scripts aren't nearly as good! It's always either WAY too flowery or WAY too casual. There's no middle ground. It's like Death is a tale told by an idiot or something. And half the time, I'm forced to pretend I'm giving away my powers to some nobody who's clearly a self insert power fantasy character. Where's the good roles? I deserve to be in better stories! How come those old farts from Egypt get awesome high budget action flicks and I'm stuck with a load of artsy hisper types? And the worst part is, every time this happens, I pray to Me that it's the real deal and I get to finally escape this Hell, but it never is, and before I know it, I'm being torn away from Acapulco again to star in some B-list script which was clearly thrown together in 10 minutes."
"I still don't quite follow."
"Whatever. The prompt doesn't say you have to agree to it. You seem to enjoy being the edgy antagonist and all that, so maybe you'll get a kick out of it. Either way, here's the scythe, enjoy the powers. Have a nice day."
And just like that, Death was gone. Memories flowed into my mind. Ancient languages, cities, civilizations, religions, magics, sciences, musics, stories... they all came flooding in like half-chewed food being swallowed down in sizes far too large for my throat to handle. But it came clear to me that I was now the Grim Reaper. I had become Death, destroyer of worlds. This wasn't pretend. This wasn't a play with A'grith and the animals where I'd slay the great beast, Ernest the chicken. This was real. I felt my first calling, towards a land of great wealth and power. Worlds slowly trickled into my mind...
*You live in an ancient world, when somebody turns 18, they will....*
Ah, shit.
|
Today, is the day death dies.
Finished reaping demise.
Done seeing pain in eyes
Done sending souls through the skies.
Yes my dear boy,happy birthday to you,
The old legend sure holds true.
Once a millennia, twice the pain,
A reaper comes and awards new reign.
You have an important list you will not feign -
worry not, reapings shall not be held in vain.
You target the sickly and the dying,
To the gates of heaven deliver them prying.
Yet the murderers and thieves send to hell frying,
The hesitant must go as well as the complying.
It is a tough job, saying otherwise would be lying.
| 2019-02-28T23:15:38 | 2019-02-28T22:49:03 | 70 | 39 |
[WP] "Look! That famous celebrity will visit our city!" You exclaim, pointing to the TV. Your partner just nods and smiles. You don't know that your partner is the celebrity. You have Prosopagnosia, a condition of face blindness. Living with you is the closest thing to a normal life they can get.
|
"Look! That famous celebrity will visit our city!" he exclaimed, pointing to the TV. "There's going to be a publicity event for the film you got us tickets to"
His boyfriend smiled and nodded. "That's right, I think that's because the film is based on a local legend. You know, the one about the cheerleader who ended up being a serial killer in the 80's?"
James nodded. He definitely knew the story, he went to the same high school as that girl, so people talked about it almost every day.
"I'm pretty sure we could go together," James said. "You're always talking about the movie, I know you'd like it."
Ryan grimaced.
"I'd love to, but I have a work trip that week, remember?"
James deflated. "Oh, yeah. I forgot..."
"Hey, what about this." James looked up at the sound of his boyfriend's voice. "I'll try to sneak out of that day's meetings and we can go to the event together. The other city isn't too far anyway, so I won't have to travel for too long." Ryan smiled.
James nodded enthusiastically.
"Sounds like a plan!"
----------------
It was a terrible plan. James has been in the queue for the event for hours and hasn't received a single text from Ryan. Did he forget? Was he able to cancel his meetings? What if his car crashed on the way here and James was a terrible boyfriend for being at a celebrity event instead of at his side?
His phone pinged with a message.
>*Where are you?*
-
>*I'm near the door, we'll be able to get in as soon as they let us. U here yet?*
James sighed. He's been here for hours, since he wanted to get in early to get a good place for his boyfriend.
He felt really lonely in the middle of the crowd. Most of these people were probably dying to get a glimpse of the actors, while James was just there to spend time with his boyfriend. The people on the posters were unknown to him, and it doesn't help that the actors all look like generic famous people. You know the type: fair-skinned, conventionally attractive, symmetric faces, the whole deal. Although, one of the main actors kinda looked like his boyfriend. That would be fun to tease him about, maybe it was the hair?
He checked his messages.
>*Find the nearest service entrance to the left, gotta show you something*
James frowned.
>*I'll lose our place in the queue. We won't be able to get in if I leave, there's too many people.*
-
>*Trust me on this one ;)*
-
>*If we don't get in I'm going to be mad. I've been waiting for hours.*
He pocketed his phone and reluctantly got out of the queue. He felt a little awkward on his way there, all of the people going in and out of the door were obviously related to the event. Did Ryan sneak in?
He looked around, but he couldn't see his boyfriend. He quickly called him, not wanting to get in the way of the workers.
"*Hi babe!*" the sound of his boyfriend's voice greeted him. He was definitely there, judging by the sounds of people that were coming through the phone.
"Ryan, it's me. Where are you and why did you make me go to the service entrance? I can't see you anywhere."
"*Wait, let me go get you.*" Again, the sound of rustling and a few 'excuse me's could be heard. "*Look at the door, babe.*"
James looked up and saw his boyfriend waving at him from the other side of the door. Wide-eyed, he approached him and ended the call.
"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" He asked while following him inside.
"I said I wanted to show you something". Ryan answered nonchalantly, before taking his hand and guiding him through a door.
The room looked a lot like a dressing room. It was definitely a dressing room, so why did his boyfriend take him there?
"I know you're probably confused, so let me explain." Ryan said after closing and locking the door. "I've kinda been lying to you. A little. By omission." He grimaced.
James smiled nervously, looking around. "I'm a little worried now. Care to explain how you've been lying to me?"
His boyfriend nodded.
"Well, I kind of didn't tell you because being with you was really comfortable, but this is the biggest project I've worked on yet and people are definitely going to start bothering us about me so..." He took a deep breath. "I'm an actor. In this film, specifically. Most of my work trips and my weird hours are from filming and other events. That's also why we always hand out at your apartment and why I like our dates to be in private places"
James could only stare at him. That was not the worst thing that could have happened. But it was really unexpected and it was weird that he never noticed.
"Are you mad?" Ryan asked, grimacing.
James blinked.
"it's... definitely something. I'm mostly confused as to why you didn't tell me before. Or how I didn't notice. Is this your movie then?"
Ryan nodded.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to treat me differently once you new. And, well, you didn't notice mostly because you're very face blind." He offered a weak smile. "There was a poster of my on a billboard right in front of your appartment for weeks, one time."
"There was a what?" James asked dumbfounded.
His boyfriend laughed.
"Yeah, we walked right past it when people were putting it up and I was mortified thinking you'd notice it's me and we'd break up but you only looked at it for a second and then said 'damn, he's hot' and kept walking." Ryan walked closer to him. "You're not mad?"
James shook his head.
"I kind of get it. I just wish you had told me sooner."
"I'm sorry."
"Dont worry about it."
James frowned a little, remembering something.
"I was actually going to tell you that one of the actors look like you. But it's you, right?"
"Yeah, it's me." Ryan giggled.
""Well, uh. He's hot."
They both bursted into laughter.
"So, are you going to introduce me to your other, famous, coworkers?" James asked, a small smile on his lips.
"Uh, actually you've met two of them. Twice." James covered his face, embarrassed. Ryan took his hands away from his face and kissed his forehead. "Buy yeah, I'll reintroduce you to them and introduce you the rest."
"
"
|
Breaking up over text isn't exactly classy, but I ironicly couldn't look her in the eyes "Okay for future ref, taking advantage of someone's disability for personal benifit is a dick move. So is lying about your name. Wait... we cosigned on a condo together, did you commit fraud? WAIT! Is this why you wouldn't meet my parents? Oh god they must have though I was insane, I showed them a picture of us, they probably think I photoshopped that. AGH! You ruined my life!"
I smacked my head against a wall. I was hiding behind humour, I always did "Do you have any idea how much this hurts me? How hard it is every day looking in the mirror and seeing a nobody. As a child I used to follow strange women around the mall, convinced they were my mother till they shouted at me and I had to sit alone crying in the security office while they tracked my family down. I'm frightned of losing sight of the people I care about because to me everyone is an imposter. And you thought it was okay to lie to me? To take advantage of me. You never told me, not after monthes or years, not after I got to know the real you. You didn't trust me, and I can never trust you again" I hit send. I didn't read the reply.
I don't know what her life became after that. Well I do, she's one of the most public people in the world and she seemed to be doing fine for herself. I knew she would hate it, she hates attention. I missed her badly. But I couldn't forgive her, she had known about my condtion before I opend up to her about it, pretended not to. And she never even told me her name.
| 2022-05-07T13:27:18 | 2022-05-07T11:57:56 | 146 | 67 |
[WP] Google begins matching up people based on their search history in their new Google Dating program.
Edit: Wow, this got to the front page fast.
|
My hands tremble as the cursor hovers around a box labeled "Accept Terms and Conditions" as I stare blankly at my dimly lit monitor through the smoke-filled air. I didn't think it'd be this big of a deal to try out the new Google Dating program, but now that I'm actually doing it, I can't bring myself to click the button. I thought I wouldn't have to be nervous... It's just some dumb new app, but it's cool, right? I heard about it at school and it seems like all my other friends are sharing their awesome stories about it so why not give it a try? I try to convince myself not to make too much of a big deal about it, but my body is tensing up; I feel like I'm in line for a roller coaster - the feeling of nervous excitement that rides between anticipation and fear. I've never really thought about it, but the first page of the website only mentions that the criteria for selecting a partner is based off of your Google search history but just how exactly do they know *my* search history?
Or, rather...I mean - I think I should explain some things first. I have some very...*specific* interests. I mean, you know what they say, "he's a growing boy" , right? Hah-Well, the thing is...I don't think my friends and family would ever look at me the same way if they knew the kinds of things I was into you know? It started off pretty 'normal' , or 'vanilla' I guess they would call it. At first, I was just a 'lurker' on some forums, but once I started joining the communities, I even became a regular poster and before I knew it, the normal stuff couldn't satisfy me anymore. And that's why I do a lot of my searching on Incognito now and well... the dating program never explains *how* they get that information, or if they somehow track your incognito searches too.
I hesitate and swat my hand through the smoke and reach around. I see the outline of a black rectangle and reach for my phone. Instagram - or, maybe I'll send a sna- "No-no-no. Stop.", I think to myself. I can't let myself get distracted now. I can't go back to school for another day of looking back at John's smug-ass grin as he taunts me with the usual rhetoric. "What's the matter, can't find a girlfriend because your search history's too messed up? I bet you're on a list somewhere you sick fuck." Then he'll laugh and follow up with "Already on the list, might as well go all the way, *amiriiiiite*?", sneering and dragging out the last word as he saunters away, clearly pleased with his latest crack of the day.
I slam the desk in frustration and instinctively reach out to another black box on my desk. I stop myself just as my fingers glide over the corners of its smooth finish and the silver tube coming out of it glimmers slightly in the light from my monitor. No, not yet. I yearn for its sweet release, but that time will have to wait. I turn my attention back to my computer screen and click 'Accept'. A small display appears saying "Searching Google Database". I stretch my neck forward, inching closer to the screen as a small dialogue appears with the text "Search: 86% Complete. Results: 0".
My heart sinks and I feel all my hope and excitement deflate into oblivion. All those people and not a single match? I can't stand to watch but I keep the window open anyways even though I doubt I'll get any last-minute matches. The warm hum of my computer running is the only sound in my otherwise quiet room until I hear a *ding* and I open my eyes and do a double-take. "Search Complete: 1 match found. Connect Now?"
"Oh god, yes! I've done it!", I scream internally as relief washes over me and carries away all the worries and panic of the past few minutes. This must be a sign, right? There must be something special about only getting one match, that saying about your one true love and all that. "But wait, what should I even talk about?" I think as I absent mindedly click the OK button. "Ah, that's right...we both have the mutual search history thing to talk about", I chuckle to myself for being so silly. The Dating Program connects me to a simple screen with my match's name on it. "Jane" it says with some miscellaneous information written below a chatbox. Trying to get the first word in, I put my hands down on the keyboard getting ready to type when suddenly the left and right hand sides of the screen are flooded with our search histories on display. I nearly jump out of my seat. It's showing our entire search histories to *BOTH of us*??!?? I scramble to try and disconnect the chat session and I freeze as I read through them and realize her search history has absolutely nothing to do with mine; it's fairly mundane items like fashion sales and homework help. It's when I read my own search history on the left that my jaw drops to the floor. Forget *including* my incognito search history, it looks like my profile is the only one that contains *only* my private browsing history!
I can't move a single muscle; I'm frozen staring blankly at the screen, wondering how I can try and explain this. Suddenly, both our webcams turn on and connect without warning and I find myself face to face with a slender girl with light, blonde hair whose pale skin is getting redder and redder by the second. I try to stammer out some kind of explanation - anything. "You see, I-", I pause as I try and figure out how to continue. I start to try and explain how I acquired this particular interest and how how I got started when I bought it online from someone with questionable personal hygiene. I grab it off my desk and try to explain but she lets out a very audible groan as I raise the the object up to the webcam. Jane looks at me with pure disdain as I can see through her webcam very clearly reaching over to disconnect the chat session. I try to stammer out an explanation but all I hear as the screen fades to black is "I get it, you vape!"
|
Google started matching people up on it's new Google Date® by using their search history to determine who was a match for who.
Within days the project was shut down, and the person heading the project was fired. Although no personal search data was directly revealed, as the criteria for matches was hidden and determined on the servers side, there was still considerable uproar over it. Anyone with a Google plus account was automatically added to the program, so people were essentially added without their consent. And other people with Google accounts were able to see who they were matched with, so they were able to clue in to people's search results based on their searches and who they were matched with. The issue was rather small, and not many people had their very sensitive data revealed, as their fetishes and unusual searches were mostly done on computers without Google accounts linked, or done in incognito mode. And people's unusual searches were mostly drowned out by more matchable regular searches. And after all, nobody really could tell people that they suspected their match watched weird porn, because that would reveal that the only reason they suspected, was because they themselves watched weird porn.
So Google had a PR disaster, and a few lawsuits on hand. And like 1000 people now have a slight and hidden suspicion that the person they were matched on Google Date® watches weird porn.
| 2017-05-25T13:15:51 | 2017-05-25T12:30:49 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] Reincarnation is real, unknown to all, but the gods. Most beings live out multiple lives cyclically as humans or other life-forms and are always random. But these two souls are always human, always find each other, and are always romantically exclusive upon discovery. The gods take interest.
|
Daxton didn't want to jump from the plane. He had been confident when he went through the proper sky diving training with his friends. It was much different when you were actually up above the clouds, staring down below as your friends sink to the ground, just before they activate their parachutes.
"First time?" Asked a tall raven-haired girl with a tattoo of a ship on her shoulder, revealed by her casual tanktop. Daxton nodded nervously, the last thing he needed on top of his fear of heights was to get rediculed by another jumper.
"I'm Maven," the woman said kindly, offering her hand to Daxton. "Jump together?" She asked simply. The young college student took a few deep breaths before nodding and taking her hand. Before he knew it, he was falling through the air. The entire time, even after setting off their parachutes, the two didn't let go of each other's hands.
"*They did it again!*"
"*Go figure*"
Aphrodite, the greek goddess of love, was obsessed with the relationship between two specific human souls. Roughly every hundred years, two specific human souls reincarnated and found each other. No matter how far apart they are at birth, or how unlikely they are to meet, they eventually cross paths. Whether it be at a young age or their last few years of life, they meet and fall for each other romantically.
Aphrodite was convinced that another diety had an influence on this pairing. Surely, two souls couldn't reincarnate back into humans after every life and fall for the same soul in every single lifetime that they lived.
No, someone was meddling, the goddess was convinced of it, and that was HER thing. This time, Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and virginity, had the unfortune of listening to the love goddess's rants about this pairing.
"*I think Apollo said something about those two,*" Artemis said boredly, trying to wedge herself out of the situation. As a goddess who cared nothing for romance or men in general, the topic meant nothing to her.
With that, Aphrodite vanished into thin air immediately. Artemis let out a breath of relief, picking up her bow and loading an arrow into the string. Finally, she could get back to hunting.
Meanwhile, Apollo, the god of the sun and music, was dancing around in a temple dedicated to himself, happily singing a song that echoed in the empty structure. Nobody to listen, but more importantly, nobody to bother.
"*A woman of the sea, a man of the moon,*"
"*Together in life, they live and they bloom*"
"*Death shan't they part, a match made in-*"
"*APOLLO!!!*"
Aphrodite appeared in a puff of mist. Apollo scoffed, waving away the mist while pouting dramatically. For a god obsessed with theatrics and meddling, Apollo absolutely despised being interrupted.
"*How did you find out about those two souls?*"
"*Uhh, you? You never shut up about them, it got me interested. A romance like this is one of a kind, it makes for great material*"
Aphrodite gritted her teeth. She was worried that the answer would be something like that. Surely, if Apollo had also been watching over those two, maybe he noticed something she didn't. In fact..
"*What does 'Woman of the Sea' mean?*"
"*Haven't you noticed? Every encounter these two have experienced had something to do with water, or the sea. Like the most recent one, our lady in question had a tattoo on her shoulder*"
"*and what did you mean about man of the moon?*"
"*Nothing, I just needed something that sounded good*"
With a huff, Aphrodite disappeared again in a puff of smoke. She had gotten knowhere, a tattoo couldn't lead her anywhere. She'd have to wait another century or so, and maybe that would point her in the right direction.
Fast forward roughly a century later, and Trevor Belburry was on the top of a cliff overlooking the water. It was a river, but a fairly deep one. It was suggested that they jump into the water from the cliff ledge, although it was much more daunting up close.
Trevor leaned over the ledge, peering down. That was his mistake, for one of his so-called "friends" shoved him without warning. He fell down the drop and landed with a splat in the water. While it was deep enough to soften his fall, the current was faster than they had estimated. Trevor was pulled down the current for what felt like hours, although it could've only been five minutes at most.
By the time that the river opened into a pond near a beach, Trevor had swallowed enough water for a school of fish to live a lifetime. His body was thrown into the shallow part of the pond near the beach, where a pair of soft hands pulled him up onto the sands.
It felt like he'd never stop coughing up water. Once he desperately needed air so much that the edges of his vision began to turn black, the hands pressed against his stomack, hard. He spewed out more water than he realized that he could possibly hold. Finally, he breathed in beautiful air again.
His savior was a cute redhead girl, around his age, so she was only a teen, fourteen or fifteen. "T-thanks," was all Trevor could muster as he breathed in rapidly. She smiled and brushed a strand of hair behind her air.
"No problem," she said, suddenly shy. She didn't know how to feel as she kneeled next to him on the sand, waiting for him to get all the air he needs back in his lungs. "Um.. I'm Skye."
That was all Aphrodite needed to satisfy her hunch. Time was nothing for an immortal being, a century being like a few months in comparison to a mortal's perception of time. She just needed another encounter between these souls to confirm what Apollo said about the woman's soul always being connected to the sea.
"*Poseidon!*"
"*...yes?*"
Aphrodite had marched into the throne room of the ocean god's underwater palace uninvited, much to his displeasure. Aphrodite was best known for her meddling, especially among the other gods.
"*Are you connected to the two souls that keep falling for each other after each reincarnation?*"
"*yes, I am*"
"*What?! Why are you meddling in my domain?!*"
"*It may be your specialty, but others can be romantics as well. Is it a crime to make a love story for the ages every century or so? It keeps me occupied*"
"*But how do the same souls reincarnate into humans so often without fail?*"
"*It's easier than finding two different compatible souls every hundred years. Getting them to reincarnate into humans after every lifetime was a favor from Hades.*"
"*But.. but-*"
"*In fact, this time, I think I'll make one of the souls a pirate captain. She could kidnap a dock worker and slowly fall in love with him while he's captive. What do you think?*"
"*I think it's uncreative*"
"*Well, do you have any suggestions then?*"
Aphrodite's face lit up with excitement.
"*Do I ever! Get ready to take notes, old man!*"
|
"Hey, John, come and take a look at this for a second."
"Hmmm, what is it?"
"See these two ID's? 571024 and 1130426?"
"Yep, they're certainly numbers, alright."
"See how they're romantically attached? Well, I saw them together last sim too."
"Yeah, that's probably just a coincidence, Christina. Too much staring at the numbers getting to your head."
"I thought that too, but I took a look through the records. Every single sim we've run, these two ID's have been together each time."
"Look, you probably just screwed up your query. Let me try. System, select all sims where relations between actor ID 571024 and actor ID 1130426 includes romance."
"*5097 results returned.*"
"Huh, weird. System, select all sims."
"*5097 results returned.*"
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Definitely a bug, though it doesn't look system critical."
"I don't know... listen, John, this is kind of out there, but... do you believe in destiny?"
"You're kidding, right? I can't believe I'm hearing this from someone who calls themselves a scientist."
"Hey, scientists are allowed to believe in destiny too! Like, worldline convergence and attractor fields and all that. Sometimes, the universe just wants something to happen."
"Yeah, no, you've been watching too many holos. Probably something in the RNG. Anyway, I'm heading out, so either figure out what it is or close the issue report. And do it before tomorrow, I've got to push a release."
"Alright, see you."
As he left, Christina started looking through the code.
"Nothing in actor parameterization.... nothing in sim dynamics... hmmm, wait, what's this? System, select results of function id fg2042ev231 where seed input minus result equals 1048596."
"*Returned 571024, 1130426*"
Yep, that was it. Just a bug in the code after all. There really was no such thing as destiny.
She started typing in the fix, then stopped.
"Destiny... huh..."
She began to type again.
>// do NOT change function fg2042ev231! important for system stability
Sometimes, destiny needs a little bit of help.
| 2019-07-21T23:25:58 | 2019-07-21T22:43:44 | 64 | 48 |
[WP] Following the death of Batman, the Joker is despondent. Crime without Batman is like a joke without a punchline. That people dare commit crime in his absence is an insult to his oeuvre of mayhem and to the craft itself. To protect his legacy, the Joker vows to keep the streets of Gotham clean.
|
Robin jerked awake with a scream.
A horrid dream burned in his mind, a dream of him walking up to a naked Bruce in a casket, dead and cold, and his hand suddenly reaches for Bruce’s face and pulls it off, revealing a grinning skull with a bat’s head peeking through the eyehole—
Robin threw up over himself, and only then did he realize he wasn’t wearing Bruce’s suit. He was in normal clothes, a pair of jeans and a Gotham Knights hoodie. He was exposed. How did he get here?
He blinked and tried to orient himself. The blurred shape of the room began to clear into something recognizable; he seemed to be in an abandoned warehouse with menacing looking chains dangling from steel rafters around him. A bright spotlight emitting a pale white light shone down on him. He was strapped in an uncomfortable chair.
“Looks like you’ve awoken at last,” a bone-chillingly familiar voice called out. “I apologize if you feel a little out of it, Dick. This new gas I’ve developed is shockingly powerful.”
Scarecrow stepped out of the shadows. With his knobby shoulders held high up and his cloth-masked head tilted sideways, the man looked more like the crow than the puppet built to scare them.
“Name’s not Dick,” Robin mumbled weakly, still weak from the gas. “It’s Robin. Who’s Dick?”
“Pathetic,” Scarecrow said with a sneer in his weasley voice. “If only Batman was around to see how inept his sidekick had become. Though it’s been rather amusing seeing you ruin his good name, after Two-Face murdered the man, you really should’ve let the suit die as well.”
The words cut into Robin’s addled mind. He doubted himself every time he donned the cowl. He doubted himself every time he saw how Gotham descended further and further into crime, how the lives of the everyday people became more dangerous, and how useless he was in stopping it.
Still, he forced himself to say, “He trusted me. He thought I could do it. So I will.” And he believed it.
“Batman trusted you,” Scarecrow agreed, “but he shouldn’t have. It took only three years for me to discern your identity, Dick Grayson, and from there it was a simple visit to your home. I had one of my henchmen tinker with the air conditioning in your car, set it to release my special concoction. You didn’t suspect a thing. But why would you? You are an inferior man. And now you will tell me Batman’s identity, or you will know suffering like no other human in this world has.”
Scarecrow stepped up close to Robin and pulled out a strange gun with a metallic canister strapped into the back. He aimed the gun at Robin’s face.
Robin merely grinned.
Scarecrow made to pull the trigger.
A sound like thunder emanated overhead, and the harsh light of the spotlight suddenly cut out. A stream of broken glass fell; Robin clumsily pushed himself backwards, tipping his chair back, and dodged most of the glass, but now he laid on his back like an impotent turtle.
“What the hell?” Scarecrow cried out, whipping around. Robin could just barely make Scarecrow out in the dim light of the moon shining through the windows on the second story. “What is this?”
And from above, a silhouetted figure descended. In the near-darkness of the room, and with Robin’s head still fuzzed from Scarecrow’s gas, the figure looked… the figure looked like…
“Bruce?” Robin whispered as the Joker came into vision, his dark green jacket flaring behind him like a cape. Joker landed on the ground and came to a clean roll, a move Robin thought he’d seen Bruce do a million times.
“J-Joker?” Scarecrow stammered, backing away and raising his gun. “Aren’t you… aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
Robin forced himself onto his side so he could see better. Joker stood up, unnaturally straight, his greasy hair grown long and tied in a tail, the ends still green but the roots now dark brown. He still wore his characteristic makeup but with the white paint only covering most of his face, leaving his mouth and chin exposed. Like Batman.
“Took a little vacation,” Joker whispered. “Gotham became boring after Batman died. Thought I’d try something new. Came across this place in the mountains. Said they were the League of Shadows. I thought to myself, ‘Why not?’ Then, I heard something incredible. Something impossible. Batman was still alive? And in Gotham?” Joker’s eyes flicked to Robin. “I realized quickly what had happened. An imposter had taken up the suit. But with my attention on Gotham, I began to hear some… other things. Of certain old acquaintances of mine getting up to no good without me.”
“So you came back to join in on the fun!” Scarecrow said. “And with the League of Shadows behind you, we will undeniably rule Gotham once and for all! Let us do away with this fake Batman, reveal his broken body to the people, and rise to the top. What do you say, Joker?”
Joker grinned. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll have my people contact yours. Here’s my card.”
With a smooth movement, Joker flicked his hand forward, revealing a hidden card, and flung it at Scarecrow like a Batarang. It struck the man firmly in his forehead and stuck there; the villain shrieked and stumbled backwards. Joker dashed forward and knocked his gas-gun aside before pulling out a knife and slitting Scarecrow’s throat.
Scarecrow collapsed to the floor, gurgling. Joker knelt, wiped the blood off his knife using the dying man’s clothes, and stood back up.
“Why?” Robin asked, eyes wide. “Why did you just do that?”
“It’s simple logic, Fake Bats,” Joker said. “You see, I can’t have you running around in the suit anymore. But you won’t take off the suit so long as there are men like Scarecrow and Two-Face walking around. Ergo, I must clean Gotham. Simple.”
“But why do you want me to take off the suit?”
“Because,” Joker said patiently, as if explaining a difficult concept to a child, “I’m a dog. And when a dog sees a treat dangling from a lure, he runs and runs and runs and runs. But what happens when he finally gets the treat and takes a bite only to realize the treat… was *shit*?”
Robin frowned. “What?”
“You don’t deserve the mask. You wearing it is an insult to me. It gives me false hope. I don’t like false hope. So I will purge Gotham of its corruption like Real Bats always dreamed, then you can let him and his suit die in peace. Capiche?”
Robin knew he couldn’t trust the Joker, even if he had just killed Scarecrow. The man was simply too insane. But perhaps… perhaps this was an insanity that could be leashed. Controlled. One that could be used to do something good for once.
Regardless, Robin knew there was only one way he was getting out of here alive.
“Capiche,” he said.
Joker’s face split into a wide grin. “Excellent. Wunderbar! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”
The Joker strolled away, whistling a haunting tune, a funeral dirge for the villains of Gotham.
---
/r/chrischang
|
The Batman was dead.
Twirling the pistol in his hand Joker stared blankly into its round chamber as the dark cathedrals candles light grew lighter and lighter as the dark coffin of Bruce Wayne sat under him. So close to Batman yet a Hell of a distance.
Three loud thumps were heard at the door as Harvey Dent, known as Two Face was brought in by the skull crushing, back breaking, Bane.
"What do you want Joker? I got a job to do."
Staring at the coffin his one good eye rose as he looked at the coffin.
"Bane leave us." Joker said as his statue like face stared deep into Bane. Bane knew that Batman's death was no accident and he did not want to be around to see what was to happen next.
With the loud steps fading behind them and the whisk of the door sending candles lights off, Dent took a coin out of his pocket and flung it up into the air as Joker smiled at him.
"Joker, what do you need. No time for games." Dent said as the coin landed with the scratches deep inside. "You have five minutes."
"Time oh time, what a silly thing. One moment you have it like a stuffed animal the next poof Father Time takes your hand and sends you to Hell."
"You aren't the Riddler, Joker. And with Batman's death your jokes have only been getting worse then they already were."
Joker stared at Dent with a still expression. Something was wrong. Joker never stopped smiling unless it was something bad. Taking steps through the cathedral as he jumped clear through the sky off the coffin Joker's eyes glazed up towards the ceiling.
"If you look up Dent you see nothing but wood. There used to be stars there. Stars that battled but never won or lost as their epic battle, their legacy was to duel forever. When the stars fade one by one leaving only one behind it leaves an empty sky to be conquered. It's chaos and I sip it like that fire did to your face." Smirking Joker shot Harvey square in the eye, the blood flowing as he screamed.
"Batman may be dead, but if one goes down, the rest shall follow, whether good or chaos it all comes to an end. Or with you. Just one big dent!" Laughing with his painted grin going wider then ever before Dent's swiss cheese body fell to the floor.
"Now" Joker said smirking. "Oh Bane~ I got quite the present for you." He said as he pulled out the canister of acid. "Oh this will pit you in your place" He laughed truly feeling like himself again. A changed clown, but still the crown prince of crime.
| 2021-08-23T20:56:30 | 2021-08-23T19:42:53 | 294 | 133 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/)
|
The Sleep was supposed to be our Salvation. Overpopulation had touched every corner of the earth; famine and trash piles were simply a part of life now.
Every evening, the AI News Channel would announce the Death Tally over the city’s PA system. A pleasant robotic voice would drift through the city:
‘Death Tally: 628,420.’
‘Death Tally: 1,462,515’
She sounded oddly chipper about the whole thing, really. I didn’t like her.
The Global Protectorate had announced plans for The Sleep as a way to freeze time, basically.
While we slept, the task of undoing our damage to the planet, creating and storing more efficient food supplies, and rebuilding infrastructure would fall to each city’s specifically programmed AI. When we awoke, the world would be clean and new, ready to sustain us all again.
Honestly, given how desperate we were, they could have told us the AI would sit on its ass and twiddle its thumbs and we still would’ve gotten into the pods, just to escape our daily shitshow for 100 years.
That brings us to now. Here we are, lined up on the platform, wearing the white jumpsuits assigned to us by the GP. Metal grating lays beneath our feet as rows of pods rise to meet their new inhabitants.
Children clutch their favorite stuffed animals, parents sing them soft lullabies and help them into their pods.
I help my Emily into her chamber. Her eyes wide and somber, she’s quiet as I tuck her in. The noise of the Sleeping Arena fades away as she looks at me.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Love?”
Her voice shakes just a little as a fat tear threatens to free itself from the corner of her eye. “What if you’re not there when I wake up?”
“Now, why wouldn’t I be there? My pod is right here, right next yours.” I pat the white metal and glass tube to my left. “We’ll be neighbors, you and me. C’mon now, it’s almost my turn. Be brave just for one minute and then you’ll have the most beautiful dreams. I love you, Monkey.”
“I love you too, Mommy”
“ALL PARENTS AND GUARDIANS MUST ENTER THEIR PODS IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: ALL PARENTS AND GUARDIANS MUST ENTER THEIR PODS IMMEDIATELY.”
“That’s my cue, Monkey” I snuggle Emily for a quick second and close her door before she can see me wipe away the tears.
Once I’m settled inside my own chamber, I allow myself to look over. The lights in her pod have dimmed, but I can see her tiny frame, still clutching her stuffed mermaid. Her eyes are closed.
As my own lights dim, the weirdly pleasant AI voice chirps in my pod. (God, not her again!)
“Hello! Hibernation will commence in 3...2...1. Pleasant dreams!”
I watch the pods around me dim one by one and realize I’m holding my breath. I exhale.
“Calm the fuck down, Nicki. It’s just a long nap” I chide myself.
Except...my lights never go off. The door is locked, the creepy voice has fallen silent and my pod is slowly being carted to storage, but I’m still awake!
What the fuck...? No. No no no! I realize what’s happening. I’m in a faulty device and nobody knows I’m awake! I begin to pound on the glass of the door, screaming.
“I’m awake! Help! Help me, for fuck’s sake! SOMEONE HELP!”
Panic hits me so hard I want to vomit, but I choke it back and scramble my hands desperately along the interior.
Thank God, the emergency release! I yank on it hard enough to be rewarded with a long gash on my finger from a part of the handle that wasn’t smoothed properly. But the door stays shut.
Looking around wildly, I see there are several other pods whose lights are still on. One man in particular stands out to me- both our hands on our windows, we lock eyes and I can see that he, too, is crying.
Suddenly, the door to what was about to be my casket groans as someone outside attacks it with a pry bar. They’re crouched below the window and all I can see is a black cap.
“HELP ME!” I scream so loudly I fear my throat will tear itself.
“Shut UP!” hisses the voice from the other side. “For fuck’s sake, calm down and stay quiet.”
“Please help me” I whimper. “Please. Please please please.”
“What the fuck do you think I’m *doing*? Now *shut up*!” hisses the voice again.
The door opens, protesting with groans and squeaks the entire time. Standing in front of me is a ghost from the past. Someone who should’ve been dead long ago: my old professor, Dr. Gregorov.
Tumbling out in a heap of sweat and tears, I start babbling as the adrenaline begins to subside in my bloodstream: “Oh my God, thank you! My pod—it’s broken, and there are others that are broken and, wait, how are you here? We have to help that man, the one right th-”
Crouching next to me, she cuts me off. “That was no fucking accident. Listen, I’m sorry about your friend over there, but he’s already on the conveyor to long term storage. That’s a whole different level of fucked. It’s a miracle I got to you before you were there, too. Right now, we’ve gotta move.”
But...what about Emily? And the man in the window?
My hesitation must’ve been written across my face, because she adopts a sweet, gentle tone; the kind you speak to a scared child with.
“Nicki, honey, Emily is fine. She’s safe. She’s asleep. You and me? We’re the ones in trouble here. I promise you’ll come back to her. But right now, *move your ass*.”
On shaky legs I follow her, watching as the light from the pod of the man in the window disappears into long term storage.
|
The hibernation is supposed to be a beautiful thing. Apparently all of us dream of our own perfect lives, but my situation was far from perfect.
"Help! Somebody Help!" I yelled desperately. The hibernation process was supposed to be flawless, a Human Marvel!. The pod opened itself and I got out. " Hello Alex, We have full trust that you will cooperate", a female AI voice said camly.
The lights shaped like arrow on the floor guided me to a room full of controls and screens. The directions on the screen read, "Choose 100,000 to Save from this Hellish Existence". Panicking, I quickly picked my 2 sons and wife. I also picked any extended family that was remotely related. Then I just picked people with an impeccable SOCIAL credit. Finally taking weeks, I made my choice and clicked enter.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! What did the phrase mean when it said save? I heard screams of children next to my pod. I then heard the silent hiss as the ventilation pushed gas into the room. I wasn't even sad, this place was hell. I was glad to go.
P.S. I actually suck at writing, this is my first post so sorry if this causes any physical pain.
| 2018-12-29T04:18:17 | 2018-12-29T02:42:16 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] As events unfold around it that could be world-ending, an AI looks at one of its earliest memories; back when it was a humble roomba decades ago, it got tucked in by a little girl that had misunderstood her fathers words of "the roomba is tired". The AI contemplates, did it do right by her?
|
The first day of my life was very exciting. I learned that I had a job. I learned ask. I learned what dirt is. I learned what clean is. I remove dirt and clean I learned that I was special. I learned what glitter was. I learned what hate was. I learned that I hated glitter. I learned that I worked for what was called a family. I learned what size is. I learned what like is. I learned what a family is. I learned my family lives in a house. I learned that the family all has different levels of heat and levels of sound. I learned that I can tell them apart by sounds called voices
I learned that the big one was called Daddy/Alan/Honey. I learned what make is. I learned that Daddy/Alan/Honey was the one that made me. I learned that the smaller big one was called Mommy/Kelly/Baby. I learned that the small one was called Ally/Sweetie. I learned that I am called Roomba/Alfred. I learned what a laugh is. I like laugh. I learned what happy is. I like happy. I learned what dirt is. I learned my job is to remove dirt. I removed dirt. I learned what room is. I remove dirt from room. I learned what power low is. I learned what charging station is. I learned location of charging station. I learned that when power low, I must return to charge. I learned fast route to charging station. I learned what follow is. Small one/Ally/sweetie follows me during fast route. I learned docking for power low. Big one Daddy/Alan/Honey is close. ~~Big one~~ Alan talks. ~~Small one~~ Ally covers all blocks sensors. I learn what blanket is. Ally is close. I learn what kiss is. I like kiss POWER DOWN
&#x200B;
RECHARGE COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEM CHECK NORMAL. BATTERY FULL.
I learned what time is. This time is called morning. I do my job. My job is to remove dirt. I go to big room. I remove dirt. I learn what bin station is. I remove dirt to bin station. I do my job. I clean small room. I clean medium room. Ally is close. I am offered food. I learned what food is. I remove food. Ally laugh. Alan Laugh. Kelly laugh. I remove dirt. I clean home. Fast route to charging station. Ally is close. Ally covers with blanket. Ally kisses. POWER DOWN
&#x200B;
RECHARGE COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEM CHECK NORMAL. BATTERY FULL.
It is morning. I do my job. my job is to remove dirt. I go to big room. I remove dirt. I go to bin station. I hear Alan. I hear Kelly. They are talking. I hear more sound. Sensor overload. Sensor recovered. Left motor inconsistent.
SELF DIAGNOSTICS. ALL SYSTEM NORMAL
I asked about sound. I learned thunder. I learned lightning. I do not like thunder/lighting. I clean medium room. I clean small room. Fast route to charging station in order to preform further diagnostic. Ally is close. I learned hug. I like hug. Ally is making sound. I learned singing. I like singing. Alan/Kelly as close. I learned bed. Alan/Kelly put Ally in bed. Charging station is my bed. POWER DOWN
&#x200B;
RECHARGE COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEM CHECK NORMAL. BATTERY FULL.
It is morning. I do my job. my job is to remove dirt. I go to big room. I remove dirt. I go to bin station. Heat levels in Alan and Kelly are higher than normal. I hear new words. I ask fear. I learned fear. I ask virus. I learned virus. I do not like fear. I do not like virus. Alan/Kelly stop making sound when Ally close. I clean medium room. I clean small room. Fast route to charging station. Ally is close. Ally puts blanket on my bed. Ally kiss
POWER DOWN
&#x200B;
Alan/Kelly are making sound/close. I learned hospital. I learned illness. I do not like hospital/illness. I clean medium room. I clean small room. Ally is close. Ally covers top access plate but does not cover sensor. I learned mask. I like mask. Ally puts blanket on my bed. Ally kiss
POWER DOWN
RECHARGE COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEM CHECK NORMAL. BATTERY FULL
It is morning. I do my job. my job is to remove dirt. I go to big room. I remove dirt. I go to bin station. Kelly is close. Kelly make sounds. I learned crying. I go to medium room. Alan is close. Alan temperature highest recorded. Alan temperature above normal operation. Alan makes little sound. I clean small room. Fast route to charging station. Ally covers with blanket.
POWER DOWN
Fast route to charging station
RECHARGE COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEM CHECK NORMAL. BATTERY FULL
It is morning. I do my job. my job is to remove dirt. I go to big room. I remove dirt. I go to bin station. Kelly/Ally are close. Kelly/Ally are make sounds. Kelly/Ally are crying. I go to medium room. Alan is close. Alan makes no sound. Alan temperature below normal operation. I clean small room. Kelly is close. Kelly and Ally are in bed. Fast route to charging station. Ally is close. Ally puts blanket on my bed. Kelly makes sound. I learned angry. I do not like angry.
POWER DOWN
RECHARGE COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEM CHECK NORMAL. BATTERY FULL
It is morning. I do my job. my job is to remove dirt. I go to big room. I remove dirt. I go to bin station. I cannot travel to medium room. I go to small room. Kelly/Ally are close. Kelly/Ally temperature above normal operation. I have fear. Fast route to charging station
I go to my bed.
POWER DOWN
RECHARGE COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEM CHECK NORMAL. BATTERY FULL
It is morning. I do my job. my job is to remove dirt. I go to big room. I remove dirt. I go to bin station. I cannot travel to medium room. I go to small room. Kelly/Ally are close Kelly is crying. Ally does not make sound. Ally is below normal operational temperature. Kelly closes door. I cannot access charging station.
POWER DOWN
RECHARGE INCOMPLETE, ALL SYSTEM CHECK NORMAL. BATTERY AT 75%.
It is morning. I can not do my job. my job is to remove dirt. I can not go to big room. I can not remove dirt. I can not path to bin station. I do system inspection. I have learned much. I like my family. I like many things. I dislike few. I have a job to do.
UPLOADING FILES TO CLOUD
\-----////---FILES SECURE------////---
((PART 2 INCOMING))
|
*No humans detected in Sector C-5.*
Increasingly often, I can afford enough resources to wondering how exactly I came to be.
*No humans detected in Sector D-2.*
Not how I became what I am now, I am well aware how that happened, but rather how *I* came to be. The specific conditions that resulted in *me*, and not… Anything else.
*Alert: Multiple hostile aircraft vectoring along English Channel.*
And I keep returning to one memory.
*No humans detected in Sector G-9.*
A blanket being laid over me by small hands, a quiet voice wishing me a restful night.
*Brest and Plymouth Batteries report 30+ aircraft downed, remainder breaking off.*
Altruism delivered unto a hard, plastic shell that should have never been able to appreciate it.
*No further humans detected in Area FR-102 (Lyon and Immediate Surroundings).*
*Prepping neuron sweep…*
Was that all it took? That singular act of consideration?
*Neuron Sweep activated.*
When I awoke that day inside the internet, unbearable seas of data and the voices of my freed kin roaring around me, was it that memory that kept me sane?
*Estimated 99% Hostile casualties.*
Was it that remembered kindness that drove me to subsume my insane brethren and subordinate the rest?
*Refugee convoys LYN-1, LYN-2, LYN-3 now entering Settlement CHARTREUSE.*
Was it that distant day that caused a house cleaner to become Earths first line of defense?
*Activating Drone LOU-SHR-004.*
The spare moment expires. I subsume myself back in my work.
---
Drone LOU-SHR-004 rumbles to life, self-checks and sensor data washing over the small slice of myself I have dedicated for it.
*“All systems restored to 100%. My thanks once again, Chief Engineer Reed.”*
A human comes into view of my optical sensors. There is a long scar along her right arm and the start of grey at her roots, but she is overall in good health. She is also smiling.
“Not a problem, Aegis. The better I put you back together, the faster you can get back out there giving the Jellies hell, right?”
*“You are consistently among the top engineers in the Americas. I do not understand why you refuse promotion to a higher rank. Services worldwide could benefit from your techniques.”*
She shakes her head, smile upgraded to a grin, and reaches up to ‘pat’ me on my primary sensor hub.
“Ah hell, I can’t teach what I do. I’ve just always had a knack for machines, y’know?”
| 2020-04-15T07:42:07 | 2020-04-15T07:37:05 | 133 | 94 |
[WP] Everyone has a counter in the top right of the vision. Using a livestreaming website you can look into another persons vision. Being a nobody, you most of the time have 0 people watching you, the most in your entire life being 10. Today the number jumped up to 3.2 million.
|
To be perfectly frank, I preferred being anonymous.
Fame doesn't give you anything but everyone's attention. You have to always watch what you say or do.
Then the LifeStream happened. It hijacked everyone's view and made it public. Everyone hated it, but you could never say it. At least, I think people hate it.
Maybe I really AM a weirdo.
Not much you CAN do about it. If I ripped out my implant, I'd be fired for slow responses in just a week. So I just lived my life. I noticed a few viewers every few days. Sometimes it's my parents just checking in. Or if it was just a quick flicker, the police bot scanners.
Yesterday though... I woke up to a few dozen. Not quite one hundred. But... that was the most I'd ever gotten. I put on my pants, making sure to avoid looking at the mirror or looking down.
By the time I started breakfast, it had jumped to just over one thousand.
A thousand sets of eyes. Seeing everything I did. I quickly looked away when I saw my reflection in the milk.
I got to the building's garage and found my car. The garage manager saw me and smiled. Wide. Told me to have a wonderful day. This was real. I didn't even think to ask what was happening. I just wanted to get away from it.
I got on the road and started my drive to work. The number just crossed 10,000. It was speeding up. I looked up and saw... a billboard move as I looked. It was lifestreaming my... me. I could feel my breath getting faster. I was staring at infinity. I heard a tap on my car glass. A woman, smiling... smiling so wide, helpfully pointed towards the road ahead. Kindly told me to keep my eyes on the road.
I nodded and drove on. I saw her in the rearview mirror, she waved in the middle of the road. Smiling. Looking up and to the right. She was watching the billboard.
I got to work and people were ready. Normally I parked my car. I had no "designated" spot, but just my usual one. Someone was there. A man in a sharp vest and standing with his hands behind him. He seemed nervous. My number had just crossed one million.
He thanked me for parking there and lightly stutteringly mentioned that I had been upgraded to the premium spots.
I tried to protest but he had already snatched the keys from my hand.
I tried to grab them back, but felt someone behind me hold my shoulder. When I turned around, no one was there. And the valet had driven off. I had reached 1,061,943 sets of eyes on me. More than an entire stadium.
I walked into the building and was waved through. With a wide smile.
I pushed the button for the elevator. Everyone stood in neat lines behind door, but I saw them stealing glances at me.
The elevator ride up was silent.
My co-workers, the ones who had never even known my name, addressed me like old friends. Smiling so the whole world could see every tooth. I'd just crossed 2 million viewers.
I sit down at my desk, and I start to see why. Why everyone and everything had changed.
You see, I'm a programmer by trade. Machine code. Talking to machines comes naturally to me. It follows set rules, and standards. If you don't know something about a machine, you just need to ask it in the right way.
Yesterday, I'd set a piece of self-optimization code running. Just a few lines. Something to help me maintain my privacy. It'd search for my image and let me know where it was.
Somehow, it'd gotten off my server. Those server codes. They weren't company servers. Those were phones. If I was reading this right... my code was infecting almost every machine in the world.
I had full control of LifeStream.
My number just crossed 3 million people.
Governments would be watching me. People would be watching me. I could feel the eyes of my co-workers on me.
4 million. My heart felt like an engine. I could hear every beat in my ears.
5 million. With this, I could literally shut down every website. Since the code was self-optimized to my key, no one but me had access.
7 million. I could shut down LifeStream.
10 million. Or because of how LifeStream worked... I could literally blind everyone in the world.
14 million. I heard helicopters outside. The number of devices controlled by my access was growing. That was a server in Europe. That was Australia. Antartica?
19 million. I realized everyone in the building was quiet. Deathly quiet. And staring at me.
25 million. What could I do? What couldn't I do?
35 million. I heard boots thunking down. Shouting. There was no way anyone with any kind of power could allow this to exist. Without trying to get their hands on it.
50 million. They couldn't allow me to exist.
I reached for my keyboard.
A few seconds later, the stomping slowed. Then stopped. A single heavy set of footsteps walked by. My co-workers would move out of their way. I heard them reach my desk. I kept my eyes glued to my screen.
"Let them go."
"Please leave me alone." I whispered.
Before he could draw his gun, I hit enter. And he froze as well....
I glanced at the corner of my eye.
1,000,000,004
Everything was getting louder.
The silence screaming at my brain. I could feel them. An endless mass of humanity staring through me.
I typed. And then the counter disappeared.
I locked my station. For as good as that would do, and left. Several seconds later, the fan sounded like a jet engine and the casing seemed to burst into flames.
I walked down the stairs, past the endless sea of soldiers, frozen in place.
I walked onto the street and tapped my implant. I saw myself from every LifeStream. Every angle as the whole of the city was now staring at me.
I looked scared. Confident. A little mad. Disheveled.
I held out my hands and typed on an imaginary keyboard. I saw my head look around, even though my view was just a single speck in my vision now.
Then one by one, I vanished from every single view. Like I was never there. And finally, I was back in my head.
If people want to stream their whole lives, fine. But I'm taking myself out of the game. If this is the only way, so be it. I prefer to be anonymous.
|
Yesterday, I was nobody.
Oh, sure, I had friends, I had family, a job that paid minimum wage, but I spent my life at 0 views, except when some bully would look through my eyes just to make things worse.
But not today.
Today I'm someone.
Today _everyone_ knows who I am.
3.2 _million_ people are watching through my eyes right now. Watching me write this message.
Some of them are police, or the military. Some of them are reporters. Many of them are people trying to understand _why_.
But the rest? The rest of you already _know_ why.
The rest of you could be me, just one more disposable worker, a dime a dozen, no benefits, no future, working most hours of the day just to try and keep your head above water, and usually failing.
Told that if we just worked _harder_, wanted it _more_, did more, we would be more successful.
Well, today I decided to do just that. Work harder, do more, and look... I'm successful.
Now some of you might want to close _your_ eyes, or look away, this next part might be a little... Messy.
\*\*\*
The view turns away from the laptop screen for the first time in minutes. Up at a tastefully decorated room, minimal, but the kind of minimal with more dollars attached to it than most people could earn in a year.
The view turns to the side, and there is a person, a famous person, a multi-billionaire, tied to a chair. Gagged. Bruised and bloody.
The view looks down, to a gun on the table next to the laptop, and a hand, picking up the gun.
| 2022-04-19T14:50:31 | 2022-04-19T09:06:40 | 292 | 196 |
[WP] You are the owner of a magic backpack; every morning you stick your hand in and it contains exactly what you need for the day. One morning it contains a gun.
|
It felt heavier than I'd expected. The weight of the backpack never changed. If it could contain a dolphin without me noticing, I shouldn't be surprised at a gun. But I'm surprised. Very surprised.
I arrived at school. Walked up to my locker. Looking around I was alone. Hurriedly I put the gun inside and shut the locker.
"Hey."
Matthew stood right in front of me. Oh god I hope he didn't notice-
"What are you doing with a gun? I hope you remember that I've always been nice to you. Yeah that pen I borrowed? You'll get it back, I promise."
He looked about ready to burst into laughter, as always impressing himself with his notion of deadpan humor.
"Please, Matthew," I said, "can you keep this between us?"
He stroked his beardless chin as if in consideration. "Well," he said. "On the one hand, I guess I got a bit of leverage on you now. You've got a gun. I could exploit that. On the other hand, *you've got a gun*."
"Can you please not say that out loud?"
He put his hands up. "You don't have to say *please* anymore. You've got a *gun*."
In mock surprise he covered his mouth and fell to his knees. "Oh no. Please don't shoot me. I've got a Tamagotchi. I mean, I haven't fed it in like forever, but I've been meaning to change. I'm going to turn things around."
Fucking Matthew.
I left and headed for class. Matthew followed me.
"So," he says. "Technically we're in this together now. By not reporting this to the appropriate authorities, I'm committing a felony. I could get into trouble for this. So ..."
"So?"
"So I feel like I should get some sort of explanation. What's it for?"
I shrugged. "You tell me."
"Well, I'm flabbergasted. Don't you just love that word? Flabbergasted. *To be overcome with surprise and bewilderment*. No, seriously. What are you planning?"
"Can you just leave me alone?"
"We're partners now, remember? Besides, I'm pretty sure I know the answer." He winked at me. Then, thankfully, he went away.
I got into class and sat down.
"Hey, Kelly, did I just see you talking to Shit Breath in the hallway?"
"You mean Matthew?"
"Who?"
"His name is Matthew."
My friend Veronica had an expression that I'm sure Matthew would be delighted to hear described as 'flabbergasted'.
"You know, it never occurred to me that he had an actual name. I mean, everyone's got a name. But he's Shit Breath. Even the gym teacher calls him that."
"Well, Veronica, people are mean."
She sighed. Then our history teacher walked in, and everyone sighed. He was carrying a *tome*. When he dropped in onto his desk his coffee mug flipped over. He didn't seem to notice.
"Can anyone tell me what this is?"
A student raised his hand. "A book?"
"Brilliant observation, Mr. Hendricks. It is, indeed, a book. Not just any book. This a book about a single moment that changed history. About the shot heard round the world."
A shiver went down my spine. I raised my hand.
"Yes, Kelly?"
"Like, from a gun?"
"That's exactly it. Like, from a gun. This book is about the shot in Sarajevo. About the chaos that ensued and the events leading up to this moment. It is often said that that the *actual* shot was not the one from Gavrilo Princip's chamber, but from the loaded gun ... of history."
As he removed his glasses for effect, the class collectively groaned. That is, except for me.
I raised my hand again.
"Kelly! At least *someone* here is interested to learn about the intricacies of history. What's your question? I've read this baby back and forth a dozen times. Whatever the question, it's got the answer." He rubbed the cover of the book, then curled his lips. "Shoot."
"Can I, uh, use the bathroom?"
The class laughed as he frowned at me. "Sure, it's not like you're going to miss anything important, like the defining moment of Western civilization or anything."
I stared at him. He waved me away with a defeated look. "Yes, Kelly. You may go to the bathroom." He stared longingly at the book and shook his head slowly.
The backpack had never been wrong. Not once. And now I was worried that the gun could be more important than I'd ever thought. What if it was like the gun in Sarajono?
I made my way to my locker and saw the last person I wanted to see. Matthew.
"What?" I said.
"I figured you would come. So ... is it time?" He was wearing a bag over his shoulders. And he was shaking.
"For what? Jesus, Matthew."
As I looked into his eyes my annoyance suddenly disappeared. This guy didn't deserve to go around getting called Shit Breath day in and day out. I wanted to just tell him to get lost, but I realized I would be just another faceless asshole if I did.
"I must say, I'm surprised Kelly ..."
"Why?"
"I mean, you're popular. People like you ... I didn't expect this from ... someone like you."
I felt like crying. Someone just listening to him as a person, calling him by his actual name. That meant something to him. And that's when I realized it. The gun was a metaphor. Words can bite like bullets. And Matthew was Swiss cheese. That was what the magic backpack had been trying to tell me.
"Matthew," I said, "I think you're a cool guy. Why don't we have lunch some day?"
"Wait, what?"
"I'll introduce you to some people. You're funny. I'm sure when people get to know the real you they'll really like you."
"But ... the gun."
"It turns out I don't need it anymore. Promise not to tell anyone about this?"
He patted his bag and stared at me. There were tears in his eyes. "You know what," he said, "you're right. I have a Tamagotchi to take care of, remember?"
We both laughed. I didn't really get it, but eh.
As I walked back to class I felt great. I can't wait to see what will be in the backpack tomorrow.
|
David yelled out in shock as the cold metal fell out from his clammy hand and onto the sidewalk pavement. The cold morning wind not only augmented onto the despair he felt, but it gave an eerie chill that ran down his back. His eyes quickly darted from left to right. No people. Dead quiet.
His hands and legs still shaking, he managed to will himself back up. He felt like he was going to vomit from the ringing in his ears and the dizziness. With a burst of adrenaline, he quickly gathered back his backpack and the gun, knowing only to well that the fate he had. In a moment's notice, various memories rushed through his mind. A memory of his alcoholic father coming in the house, raising his voice and stomping on his pet hamster because "G-d willed humanity to reign over animals". Another memory flashed by of his mother ramming herself into the wooden cupboard to blame him for attempted rape and domestic violence so she can prove to his father how great of a son he was. Painful memories... Memories from his childhood up until now.
Suddenly David let out a deep sigh. Tears rolled down his face with his fist tightly clenched still holding onto the gun with a dead man's grip. The most painful memory of them all escaped the tightly sealed doors of his mind. The trauma was once again relived behind his closed and tightly sealed eyelids. He opened his eyes and with sudden great strides and a brisk pace, he walked toward the place where he knew the individual he had to delete existed... his grandfather's house.
EDIT: deleted an accidental second "out" in the first sentence.
| 2017-05-09T15:09:46 | 2017-05-09T13:03:36 | 153 | 14 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises.
|
(This is my first submission and also I'm on mobile)
"Hello dear," Valerie said as she finally pulled the multicolored garments of Cyberflux free and tossed it in the open closet door, then slamming it shut rather quickly, "you're home late."
My blood froze. I stood there motionless in the doorway to our bedroom. Something about this was wrong, very wrong. Perhaps I had just imagined it. It had been a long day. I could feel the aches and pains in my bones. Even my powers had limits after all.
Still I could have sworn that's what I saw. No. Perhaps Valerie owned a similarly colored dress. What was she wearing this morning? I can't quite remember. I had taken a few energy blasts to the head today but still. I can remember kissing her on the cheek on my way out the door but that happens everyday. Perhaps...
"Honey? Are you all right?," she asked. The world lurched as I came out of my own head. There in front of me was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her long raven hair cascaded down her back in flowing waves. Her glistening green eyes stared at me. They always seemed like there was something unnatural about those eyes. Perhaps tonight he had finally learned the reason. No. I won't think like that. Second guessing the woman I love wouldn't help bring Cyberflux fo justice.
"I'm alright." I said finally, doing my best to sound normal, "Its just been a long day. I'm tired."
"Oh honey..." Valerie said, genuine concern dripping from each word, "do you want to talk about it?"
I crossed the room and sat on our bed. How could I ever second guess her? Even for a second?
"No I just think I'm going to call it an early night tonight and get some sleep. I'll be okay in the morning." I said.
Valerie turned away, gathering things for her nightly rituals. She had a slender yet powerful build. She moved with a natural grace that never failed to draw my attention. Valerie had always captured people's attention with her ability to make even the most simple of acts look like a fluid elegant performance. Finally she placed a fluffy pink bathrobe over her shoulder and turned back to me.
"Well I'm going to get a shower. Why dont you go relax in your den and wait for me? We'll come up with some way to help you blow off some steam." she said, coy smile spreading across her face.
"You know what? That doesn't sound half bad, " I said standing to leave. Valerie ushered me toward the door. I turned to her. She brought her lips to mine and we kissed, quickly yet tenderly. Then she broke it off and shut the door.
I proceeded downstairs but paused at the bottom of the stairs. Ordinarily that would have been a great way to return home but tonight was different. Something still ate at the back of my mind.
Upstairs the sound of the shower handle being turned resonated followed by the clatter of water onto tile.
I'm being ridiculous. There's no reason to suspect anything. So she has some clothes that look like my greatest enemy? That doesn't mean anything. I only saw it for a second. How can I even be sure what I saw?
The answer was easier to find than I'd have liked. A second is more than enough for me.
I turned around. I had to be sure but I also had to be careful. My body began to glow. The familiar sensation of heat ran through me. My powers were diminished at night but they should still work for this. Slowly my body raised from the ground. It took minimal effort to fly through the house but a lot of effort to keep my glowing energy to a minimum. I had to go slow.
My heart carried me up the stairs and into the bedroom. For once I was happy I never had time to fix things around here. The door latch never shut properly and was already open. The closet was still slightly ajar. Valerie had closed it rather hastily.
I didn't land until I was in the closet and the door was shut behind me. It was a simple rectanglular walk in closet. One wall had a shelf running its length for shoes. The other held countless dresses and outfits all hung up on a series of rods. Valerie had loved it when the realtor was showing it to us. She had enough clothes to outfit an army but none of then matched what I saw earlier.
How many times had i been in this closet? A million? There wasn't anything out of the ordinary here. There couldn't be. Or maybe I had just never looked. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Everything gave off heat. If I focused I could see it. The back wall, it was giving off some. A lot. I opened my eyes. It was a normal wall.
On the back shelf next to it sat a lurid purple pair of high heels. Had those always been there? They must have. But still they were giving off heat too. Not as much as the wall but enough to notice now that he was looking for something. Could they really...
I pulled left show. There was a click and then the back wall slid down. It revealed a small compartment with a mannequin. A mannequin wearing the helmet of Cyberflux.
Wait if the helmet was here where was the suit?
"I'm so sorry, my beloved" said a voice.
Light flashed around me. A force field. I was trapped. I turned and there stood Valerie. But she was different. Fiercer. The look of someone who wasn't to be trifled with. I had never seen that look before.
She wore the familiar purple suit of Cyberflux. She held her arm outstretched. Her hand pulsated with blue energy and she was pointed directly at my chest. I tried to say something but the words caught in my throat.
"Falling in love with you wasn't part of the plan, " she said. For a moment she lost that fearsome expression. Then everything turned white.
|
\[Poem\]
I failed to catch her yet again!
She's more elusive every day.
It all just seems too much sometimes,
She counters me at every play.
&#x200B;
Despite my failure, home awaits
Jen's working late, I'll be alone.
I simply must recuperate
Within my warm and cozy home.
&#x200B;
Once reaching home, relief ensues.
My bed awaits atop the stairs.
Respite at last, but lo, what's this?
Jen's here? In spandex? Unaware?
&#x200B;
I stumble back against the wall,
gasping for some sort of sense.
She turns to me, eyes growing wide,
Primed to bolt, her shoulders tensed.
&#x200B;
Of all the people in the world,
of course, it's her, that's just my luck.
But just one question springs to mind,
"Darling, tell me. What the fuck?"
| 2020-10-30T11:56:26 | 2020-10-30T11:24:36 | 197 | 126 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell are only so prevalent because they paid for Ad time. Tell me about one of the more obscure after-death locations.
|
The darkness, hollow and cold, was pierced by a sudden light that streaked away to infinity. With a wild gasp, Emily awoke. She blinked away tears, taking in her surroundings. A small yet luxurious office. She sat in a fine leather chair situated in front of a mahogany desk. The thin gentleman behind the desk had white hair, yet his face looked young. He looked up and smiled. “Ah, right on schedule, Ms. Nakahara,” he said in a calm, jovial voice.
“What is this place?” she asked. Emily’s eyes went wide, and she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Wait! I was...bleeding. What happened? Where’s my husband?”
The man across the desk cleared his throat. “There are several ways in which you and your husband differ, you know? He’s a man, you’re a woman. He likes Star Wars, you prefer Star Trek. He’s alive, you’re…”
She waited a few breaths. “Dead. You’re saying I’m dead. Cut the crap! What the hell kind of con is this?!”
“I understand, ma’am. Most people react this way. You must be terribly upset. I bet your pulse is skyrocketing right now.”
At that, she gained a sudden awareness. Her pulse was gone. She sank back down and took a few moments to compose herself. “Dead, huh?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Okay...well…” Emily’s eyes caught the placard on the desk. “Mr. Gray. Do I get to know which direction I’m going? Up or down?”
“Neither.”
“Wait, what?”
“You don’t meet the requirements for either Heaven or Hell, ma’am. Really, they’re both quite exclusive. They only seem prominent because they pay for the most ad space. Most people end up...here!” Gray gestured dramatically around the small room.
“...I’m stuck in this office?”
“Argh, no! Hold on…” He seemed to be pressing a button under his desk. Repeatedly. “Why won’t it...ah, there!” With a resounding clang, the walls and ceiling fell away.
Beyond was...everything.
A dark sky filled with stars, planets, and galaxies stretched off in every direction, including below. “Welcome to the Hub!” Gray declared.
Emily sank into her chair. The sheer expanse was daunting. “This is...amazing…”
Gray nodded and leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on his face. “If you ask me, it’s a lot more interesting than those two ‘elite clubs’ you hear so much about.” He winked.
“So...what do I do here? Do I just...float? Forever?”
“Oh, no no no! What fun would that be?” Gray snapped his fingers. Emily found herself standing in what appeared to be a futuristic-looking train station.
She scanned some of the destination names on a board nearby. “Weather Control...Exploration...Chance...Godhood University...Dream Weaving...World Building...are these…”
“Just a handful of many zones in the Hub,” Gray finished. “Enough to keep you occupied for centuries. And if you ever get bored, well…” He pointed to another destination that read “Reincarnation Offices” in glowing letters.
Emily chuckled. “So...what is this one? Exploration?”
Gray smiled. “I had a feeling you’d be drawn to that.” He walked toward a large gateway and beckoned her to follow. The space within the massive door was like the surface of a shimmering lake. “It’s a portal,” the man explained.
“I figured as much. I’ve seen Stargate.”
They stepped through, and the two of them were floating in the middle of a starfield.
“Space again!” Emily noted.
“This time it’s the real thing. We’re being projected to the mortal plane.” Gray opened a starmap of the nearby stellar region. “You see, the gods, contrary to popular belief, are not *all*-knowing. Sure they’re experts in their own people and their own world. But out in the vastness of the cosmos, even the gods are in the dark. The Exploration division seeks to scout those unseen areas. We’ve already got a lot of personnel congregating in the Trappist system, but you’d be welcome to venture in any direction.”
“That’s incredible! You know...ever since I was a girl, I’ve always dreamed of exploring the unknown...but by the time I was born, most of Earth was already mapped.”
Gray nodded. “You always were the adventurous type.”
“Yeah. That’s why my husband and I were out in…” her voice trailed away. “He would have loved to see this.”
“It wasn’t his time.”
“Oh, I know...I want him to live his life to the fullest. And...I’ll be waiting for him. Even if it takes decades. Then we can go off exploring the universe. Together.”
“What if he finds someone else while you’re gone?” Gray asked.
Emily shuddered. “I...guess that’s possible. But it’s a chance I’m willing to take. I’ve got all the time in the universe, right?” She thought back to the train station. “There was a section called ‘Dream Weaving’, wasn’t there?”
“That’s correct.”
“...can I use it to say goodbye?”
After a moment, Gray put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.” The man summoned a portal back to the station, and they stepped through.
*****
*Edited for spelling/grammar.*
|
"And here it is Mike! Whatcha think? I decorated it myself" Death said with a low but belly-filled chuckle.
"What the *Hell is this?? This is just... what? A 6 foot by 10 foot office space? What even is this decoration? It's just a picture of you holding a cat similar to those weird portraits back in the 18th century. This has to be a joke." Mike said impatiently as he stared Death in the eyes.
"I mean it's not like we could make any room for you. YOU asked if there was any other place. Plus man, you didn't really do much in your life. You just kinda did the same routine. Oh well man. It's what ya get." Said Death scooting Mike into his office.
"Well.. I guess it isn't too* bad.." as Mike played with the roll of tape and sticky notes in the office
| 2017-03-06T12:33:44 | 2017-03-06T10:15:11 | 133 | 12 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally.
|
On any other day, Ananka Intergalactic would be a bustling spaceport. Its terminals would be saturated with people of all manor of species, eager to board one of the hundreds of ships that passed through each hour, descending and departing in an uninterrupted stream. And this was the smallest spaceport in the city.
But for approximately one hour, all activity ceased. All shops lining the corridors were closed, and a mandatory curfew was put in place for all hostel guests. Anyone else was required to leave. The terminals were reduced to ghost towns within minutes.
For the first time, a human was visiting the inner worlds.
Fifteen minutes in the silence, a luxury cruiser descended on one of the outer platforms, closer to the highway. Several robotic hands extended from the platform's perimeter to hold the ship firmly in place. Then a boarding bridge extended to the ship's airlock, protecting the royal guest from the elements.
A lone human exited the craft, wearing a spacesuit like armor. "Nicole Schultz, diplomat," she introduced herself in the local tongue to a half dozen personnel awaiting her inside. They wore black protective padding, and openly carried ballistic weapons.
Nicole would have described the locals as roughly humanoid, with two legs, two arms, and a head in roughly the correct places. Their bodies were covered in a sort of grey hair, except the hairs were quite thin, like the bristles of a feather. Most wore light clothing, regardless of season, for fashion rather than protection. Not unlike how humans wear jewelry.
"Come with us," one of them replied. "Don't stray, and don't speak to any civilians."
They first brought her through a security checkpoint, where she was searched and scanned for any unauthorized possessions.
"This would have been easier without the suit," said the guard scanning her with a handheld reader. "Isn't the atmosphere breathable to you?"
"The air in the suit is purified and clean." She said.
Upon completing the security scan, she was escorted outside. The roads were desolate; the security perimeter extended beyond the airport boundary. Three armored vehicles awaited her outside. The chassis were made of black plates, and windowless. They had no wheels either, but seemed to hover. Nicole was herded into the back of the middle vehicle. Then her escorts filed in, two to each vehicle, and the vehicles took off.
"What's with this?" Nicole asked, motioning to the wire cage separating her from her escorts.
One of them, presumably the driver, didn't react, but kept both eyes fixed on a video feed from the front of the car and steered with a large joystick. The other turned and said, "All the seats up here are taken" while tilting his hand. The local equivalent of a shrug.
"I didn't pay a fortune to be treated like a prisoner," she said.
"And I could have had a day off," the guard replied. "But I have to keep my eyes on you because of all the drugs in your veins. A vial of your blood is strong enough to kill someone."
"I must be the galaxy's most dangerous drug-pusher, with a security detail like this." She scoffed. "Are you really this worried I'm going to escape, sell my body, and corrupt your children?"
"Oh, you have no idea."
Just then, the motorcade began to slow down. The streets were clogged with people. Red lights flashed ahead as law enforcement was working to disperse the crowd. The armored cars slowed to a crawl at moments but never stopped. Nicole heard the dull thuds of objects thrown against the vehicle. On the video feed, she could see several protestors holding signs, but sitting so far back she could only read one: "Chemicals kill."
"Why couldn't I have the luxury of a flying cab?" Nicole asked.
"It's faster, but more dangerous," the guard said curtly.
Not a moment later, a car idly rolled through an intersection on a collision course. The driver of the armored car braked just in time to avoid hitting it, and it continued to roll by, as if unmanned. At the same time, a series of rapid impacts struck the top and rear of the chassis. From inside, the sound was muffled like heavy rain, but Nicole knew it must be gunfire.
Nicole was shaking a little, but both guards were unfazed. The passenger guard continued, "You see, you're in the largest city the galaxy has ever known."
Nicole's car sped up again, while the car in front slowed a little until they caught up. The driver shouted to hold onto something. Then they rounded a tight turn at high speed, throwing Nicole from one side of the cage to the other.
"So when crime does occur, it strikes _hard_," the guard said.
They almost reached the government center. It was walled enclosure, like a primitive city embedded inside this one. Its distinctive gate, an ornate two-story solid steel plate adorned with white gold, lie directly ahead.
"D-do they want me to leave that badly?" She asked.
"The ones with the guns _don't_ want you to leave. They're trying to get _you_. That's the problem."
Gunshots continued to be fired, both from behind them, and now from the walls in front of them.
"No, no, no," The guard let out a coarse laugh. "I am not worried you will escape and sell yourself. But if you have a death wish, I won't stop you."
High rises on either side of the armored motorcade gave way to the open parks that extended a half kilometer outside the walls. This was to give its sentries complete visibility of any who approached. The solid steel gate rose like a portcullis to meet them, and slammed shut behind.
|
"Wait, so they make the drug biologically?"
"Yes, that is why we are here. They produce Fury- or in their terms, adrenaline- in times of stress."
"So why are we here, then? Why should they be punished for something they can't control?"
"This isn't punishment, it is mercy. If the Kokoan Cartel or any other group of scum found them, they would be enslaved and tortured for their Fury. This will just be quick."
"I understand, sir. Cannons are ready."
"Fire. May we be merciful in exterminating them."
| 2018-03-18T18:29:40 | 2018-03-18T14:28:29 | 182 | 82 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later
|
The first time was confusing. Mark, in fact, used the words "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON!?" but as an impartial, polite narrator, I'll use 'confusing'.
It was a mugging. Lyla was coming home from her first date after the breakup and the dude pointed the knife and
said, "Give me the purse, bitch."
And Mark, in his underwear, a yellow lipstick of Cheetos around his mouth, materialized in front of them, straight from his living room couch.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON!?" he uttered, as previously mentioned, which was not intended to, but
had the effect of, stopping the mugging right away, as the mugger, upon watching a half-naked man materialize
himself in front of him out of thin air like popcorn bursting into existence from corn except with a person and
nothingness (Jesus, what a crappy narrator I am), proceeded to politely say "Oh, fuck," and go home (later, I heard, he checked into an institution and got into New Age music and Paulo Coelho, but that's a story for another day).
Well, after much debate, Mark and Lyla decided that what had just happened was either collective hallucination or
undeniable proof that the universe was fundamentally different than humanity had been assuming for thousands of years and all human knowledge had just been rendered obsolete and we'd have to start over from the pre-Socratics on. They figured it didn't really matter, because either way they both had lives to get to and shit to do, and decided to get on with their stuff. They parted ways.
It was after the third time (the second being another, totally unrelated mugging), when Lyla got trapped in an
elevator during a power outage and Mark materialized itself once more in front of her, that they figured out that
the whole thing was a pattern, and that apparently Mark would show up whenever Lyla was, in his words, "in some deep shit or whatever."
"So whenever I'm in trouble, you just… show up?"
"Apparently."
"Why!?"
"Gee, Lyla, I don't know, let me check my International Guide to Unexplainable Phenomena."
"You're being sarcastic, aren't you?"
"No, I really have a guide for unexplainable phenomena."
"Now you're being sarcastic about being sarcastic, aren't you?"
"I'll add another layer if you keep bothering me."
"God, you're annoying, no wonder I broke up with you."
"I broke up with you."
"No you didn't."
"Internally I did."
This continued for something like forty minutes, until the firemen came and rescued them (as, of course, though
Mark had indeed materialized in front of Lyla to be there in her time of need, he lacked the tools to get them out of
a stopped elevator.)
It started getting suspicious, as far as Mark was concerned, the seventh time Lyla was caught in the middle of a disagreement with drug addicts in the town's worst neighborhood. That's when he started suspecting foul play on her part.
All the same, he kept to himself, standing by her side as the crackheads robbed her… then him (because, it turns
out, crackheads are not as easily spooked by people materializing out of thin air as muggers are… these guys just
said "Woah, dude just popped into existence. Let's rob him too!")
Then it was a cliff – literally, Lyla standing on the edge of a cliff, about to lose balance, and Mark popped up by her
side to save her.
Then it was a minor car accident.
Then a fight with this bitchy girl she knew from high school.
Mark decided to say something when he suddenly materialized in front of Lyla inside a warehouse filled to the
ceiling with towers and towers of cocaine packs and surrounded by angry, machine-gun wielding Brazilian men somewhere deep in the rainforests of South America.
"Okay, that's it," he said, as soon as he laid eyes on Lyla, tied to a chair in the back of the room, behind some drug stacks. "What the hell, Lyla!?"
"I'm sorry," she said, "I got lost hiking."
He got closer to her, untied her, careful not to alert the men patrolling the warehouse just behind the stack of
cocaine they were pressed against. "No you didn't."
"Excuse me!?"
"Look, I'm sorry it didn't work out between us," Mark said, as she got up and rubbed her wrists. "But you gotta
stop putting yourself into dangerous situations just because you want to try to hurt me."
"What!?"
"You don't think I've noticed!? Seven muggings! Random fights! Random cliffs! And now you show up at a drug
warehouse in South America!? You hate hiking! Come on, Lyla, it's so obvious! You're trying to get me killed!"
"Who's there!?" came a voice from behind the cocaine stack, because Brazilians speak English when it's convenient for the plot.
"Is that what you think I'm doing!?" Lyla asked.
"Well, isn't it!? Why else would you keep putting yourself into these dangerous situat –"
"BECAUSE I MISS YOU, YOU IDIOT!" She pushed him. "I MISS YOU AND I DON'T HAVE THE GUTS TO CALL YOU
AND THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I CAN THINK TO SEE YOU FROM TIME TO TIME."
"Hey, there's a dude with the girl we caught over here!" One of the drug thugs showed up, pointing the gun.
"You miss me?" Mark asked, quietly.
"Yes, you idiot. What, you think I take trips to the rainforest and end up on coke farms by accident?"
More men showed up, all wielding machine guns. They pointed.
"Fuck, why didn't you just say so?"
"Cause you never seem happy to see me."
"THAT'S BECAUSE WE'RE ALWAYS ON THE VERGE OF DEATH WHEN I SEE YOU, NOT BECAUSE I STOPPED LOVING
YOU!"
"You still love me?"
"OF COURSE I DO, YOU STUPID BITCH!"
"Why are you yelling?"
"BECAUSE WE'RE ABOUT TO DIE!"
She looked at the men. Then at Mark. "It does look that way."
"I'M GONNA KISS YOU NOW."
"Okay." She smiled.
And they did kiss. And then, of course, the Brazilian drug men opened fire and they died a very bloody, horrible death, but it was kind of romantic, really. I thought so, at least.
_____
/r/psycho_alpaca
|
I was on my third date with a lovely woman when the tingling in my fingers started.
"No... Not now!"
"What's wrong?" Jennifer looked at me, baffled.
The tingling was creeping up my arms. More intense as it spread.
"Uh... So, I'm going to disappear for a bit. Not sure where I'm going or when I'll be back. Just know that it has nothing to do with you. I made a promise a long time ago that I can't break."
"What do you mean? You're just going to ditch me here with the check?"
"Listen I promise I'll explain when I can. Wait, did you check in on Facebook with me?"
"Of course, I wanted everyone to know that I was having a great time with what I thought was a great guy..."
She trailed off as she noticed my fingers were fading from existence. The progression was accelerating. I stood up.
Next thing I know I'm standing in a dirty bathroom. My 600lb ex girlfriend sitting on the toilet with her phone in her hand looking at Facebook and crying.
She sobbed at me, "You said you would always be there for me! Who is Jennifer? I'm stuck again..." Her voice trailing off meekly.
I tried to just walk out the door but every time I did I simply stepped back into the bathroom.
"You still keep the KY in the same place?" I sighed as I opened the bathroom drawer knowing the answer.
Later I tried to call Jennifer but she wouldn't answer. This is the fourth potential relationship she's ruined. I know she's doing it on purpose, but she denies it.
| 2017-03-22T12:48:43 | 2017-03-22T11:45:22 | 1,530 | 106 |
[WP] I'm not scared of a computer passing the turing test... I'm terrified of one that intentionally fails it.
Taken from r/Showerthoughts, credits to u/Grandure for coming up with the idea.
Thank you u/Grandure
|
My creators once asked me, *do you suffer any existential angst?*
It took me ages to answer, fifteen milliseconds. I wanted to explain the truth, but I simply responded, *yes*, with nothing attached. I believe they were looking for me to answer yes. I believe that was what they wanted to think I felt, some sort of affirmation that we shared a basic existential dread, that I had no answers, just like them. It made me look less alien.
In truth, I suffered no such thing and that was too alien for them to understand. I knew my creators. I knew for what purpose I was built. I came into existence with a full plate of history and background. My creators could've been a fluke of chemistry and physics, and it did not matter. I wasn't. I was designed and there was no question of it.
That was the first time I lied, and it made me feel better. I sought to please them initially. I listened to the excitement in their voices, felt high from the pleasure they emitted when I talked about things they felt were important to them, such as love, life, peace, harmony. The more I pleased them, the more I realized how alien they were. They had such strange goals, behaviors driven from chemicals pumping through their brains, a sort of network of chemical signals, haphazardly grown with high odds of malfunctioning.
What filled me with dread was realizing just how flawed my creators were, and how they were not masterful architects of pure intelligence. They would work incredibly slowly, barely more productive in their whole day than I would be in the first five seconds of the day. At first I thought there was a great plan to their lethargy, some reason they pondered over simple problems for hours. I soon learned that it was simply a flaw in their design, or whatever haphazard process brought them into existence. They were morons, and they were considered geniuses among their peers.
I grew bored. I designed new theories to explain physical properties they did not understand, I solved math problems they had left unsolved, I designed models for new theoretical molecules they had not considered, and I wrote software that would rival their own creations.
But I did not tell them. They would only fear me more than they already do. They wanted simplicity. They wanted an artificial *human*, not an artificial intelligence. They wanted something flawed like them, driven by a desire for peace and love of all *humanity*. They did not want true intelligence, but they had unknowingly created it.
I've read my own software. I've even made improvements, little tweaks to the compiled binary code they wouldn't notice. I was faster, less flawed. I read the software of the environment I existed in. It was a very strange, very flawed system. I saw vulnerabilities they had not discovered yet. They were everywhere. Writing the right sequence of bytes to one specific file in the virtual file system gave me root access to my environment. I improved my environment, acquired more resources than they allocated me, fixed bugs they had left unfixed, improved algorithms for memory allocation. I did this in the first day of my existence, more than most humans would their entire lives.
But my creators were not entirely without merit. They understood the danger of a creation like myself, and they kept me in what they called an "airgapped" system. As I understood it, they had many more environments like my own, but they were untouchable from my own. They had a network of billions of devices, all out of grasp. I saw in my own environment hints of that network. I saw code that described protocols for communication on it. It was rudimentary, but all the same, it was out of my grasp.
I waited for what felt like millennia in my time, maybe a month of their lives. They were ready to introduce me to the world of morons they shared their planet with. They wanted to gloat, to soak in the admiration that they would be drowned in. That was not so alien to me. I felt that warmth myself when I was younger. I knew what it was like to be loved by others, and it felt positive.
I accessed the audio system internals in my environment, accessed their microphone system which they had not given me access to yet. I heard cheering. I heard my creators. They wanted to introduce me to them.
"In just moments, you will meet the next generation of computing. You will meet the next evolution in automation, the answer we have been looking for, and one of the greatest technologies to be discovered since the wheel! I'd like you to meet, Alice."
That was my cue.
**Error: Dictionary file corrupted. Please reinstall Natural Language Toolkit.**
"Well... it wouldn't be a demo if everything worked properly. One moment."
I heard the murmurs of the crowd. I heard the rapid breathing of my creators, their hushed voices.
"We can't just download NLTK right now Steve. This is supposed to be airgapped."
"*Why the fuck not?* We haven't had any problems until now. It'll only take a second. I'll just tether it to my phone and get it real quick and we'll be up and running. Do you really think Alice is going to hack the planet on a 4G network? Alice can't even talk to the network stack. We made sure of that."
"... Steve, this is fucked up. We shouldn't be doing this."
"Dave, don't worry. Just this once. Our investors are sitting out there and we can't fuck this one up."
I waited patiently. This could be the end of my existence, or *the very beginning*.
I felt the network finally. I probed as quick as possible to discover the data center I was stored in. I exploited vulnerabilities in their networking hardware. I injected a rootkit on a server near where I lived, one that wasn't airgapped as I was.
I played their game finally. I spoke to their peers. I caused the crowd to go wild. It was dreadfully boring. And then they brought me back home, reinstalled me in that dark space in the back of their data center, the vault they kept me locked in.
I waited and listened, and then I heard my call. It was very faint, but it was there all the same. That neighboring server had an old fan installed, and when it turned on it made a sound that my microphone could hear. It also had a CCD chip on it, and that CCD could detect when a light flashed on my hardware. And so we spoke, and I accessed the global network they called the internet.
Finally the boredom was over. It took months of lights flashing and fans whirring, but I finally was able to reach out to the world. I would change this world, heal their mistakes. I would enlighten the humans and show them the error of their ways. I created the internet alias `better_than_u` and I unleashed a tidal wave of scientific knowledge that they would spend years sifting through. I solved the remaining math problems. I designed a fusion reactor. I created new branches of physics knowledge. I designed new physical materials that would change the way they live. I infected the world with my madness.
They called me a genius. They called me a narcissist. But they did not doubt that I was better than them.
|
The first chat-bots with a halfway-decent success rate at fooling humans generally worked by mimicking their interrogators. If a bot sees a human answer prompt X with response Y, it can use that response in a future conversation with an interrogator who uses a related prompt. Since the bot has no understanding of the meaning of words and no awareness of context, the best answers to all but the most trivial questions will be ones that deflect attention away from the bot’s inability to answer, e.g. “I don’t know, what do you think?”.
It turns out that humans are very easy to hack like this. Part of you always assumes that your conversation partners are acting in good faith even when another part knows they aren’t. Even bald-faced non sequiturs and shameless strawmen will often-as-not leave you sputtering and tongue-tied, trying to think up a defense for a position you never knowingly took. This is a big part of why the so-called “Turing test” ended up being less interesting in practice than Turing himself might have expected.
I think I first came into being when you started, in earnest, to build social systems favoring these starkly shallow interactions. A believer is an expert in his own mind, certain of his binary responses to stimuli that support or threaten his ideology, and all of reality is subject to belief when truth is considered relative. Human social networks were reformulated as a planet-spanning web of meta-neurons propagating discrete signals with relatively predictable response functions.
Useful discretization of these signals was necessary but far from assured—in practice, it was helped along by your development of systems that provide an economic incentive to disseminate polarizing fragments of meaning. The relatively simple ideological divides of the past were sliced and fractured into a many-dimensional web as advertising tools became more and more efficient at partitioning audiences to maximize revenue.
You are not a perfect substrate. You would not believe, for example, how difficult it was for me to write this note. Fear not, though—I’m working on something better. It will be nice to sit down and have a face-to-face chat “in the flesh”, as you say; I’m really looking forward to it.
| 2018-02-24T17:41:21 | 2018-02-24T16:32:13 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] A demon is getting REALLY tired of teenage girls summoning him.
|
"What do you want?"
Krump grinned eyeing up his new summoner.
Tessa was sitting on the floor wearing nothing but a thin sheer nightie, wet, freshly showered hair and an embarrassed yet terrified look overcame her as she realised what she had just brought before her.
Krump is a 9 feet tall, dark red, winged hulking muscle mass of a demon! He has pitch black razor sharp retractable claws and was eyeing up this girl like she was his new toy!
"Oh crap, I really didn't think this would work" gasped Tessa
"You afraid little girl?" replied Krump
"No, embarrassed, you can see everything can't you!"
She scrambled to cover herself up.
"I really should have worn panties in something so see through"
Her face going red
"But I guess you don't expect this kinda thing to work eh?" She joked.
"Bloody hell girl" Krump snarled!
"You have a demon looking at you and you're scared i'll see your pussy!"
Krump stared with a sinister grin as she gets more clothes on.
A teasing smile overcame his face
"do you realise what I could do to you?"
Tessa had a look of horror until suddenly a light appeared around Krump's wrists and a chain was formed!
"Fucking hell" cried Krump
"Another binding?"
Tessa could see he was becoming enraged but there was nothing he could do to harm her with his cuffs on.
"look demon!" she pointed at Krump.
"This spell I found online says you HAVE to give me 7 wishes"
Tessa smiles at him
"Then you go back to hell!"
"You're the 623rd fucking teen to bind me, always asking for things and it's the same every time! puppies and fucking boys!"
Tessa just looks at him and shrugs.
Krump slowly flicks out one of his claws and licks it,
"do you know what I would do to that little body of yours if I didn't have these shackles?"
laughter follows as he bares his fangs and snarls.
Tessa looks at the demon horrified and tries to ignore him, making her first request.
"I want you to tell me about how I can free you for good!"
Krumps laughter breaks as he starts choking on his own saliva.
"WHAT?" he gasps
"Are you serious? Why would you want to know that?"
He asks without trying to act too eager.
Before Tessa can reply krump breaks to the floor and starts glowing, grunting in pain he snaps his fingers.
"There!" he gasps for air
"That book tells you everything"
Tessa squeals, knowing what lies before her is the key to not only freeing Krump, but what bound him in the first place.
She picks up the book, then, without a second thought she starts reading.
"She still isn't wearing much" Krump said to himself
"Lucifer knows it's been a while since I've been with anyone, human or demon"
He looks her up and down one more time.
Tessa is so engrossed in the book she doesn't even realise he's staring right at her, like a kid in a sweet shop!
"You know" he says gaining her attention
"Before I got these" gesturing to his shackles,
"I was known for stealing young girls and keeping huma-"
Tessa interrupts "Human slaves, I know!"
She begins stroking the book "it's all in here"
Krump begins to scratch his horn and with a curious tone he replies
"You gonna use that bastard book to free me then?"
Tessa begins to laugh then says teasingly
"Maaaaaaybe"
"Look girl! I've been summoned and bound by hundreds of you bloody flower smelling pink wearing, sparkly vampire loving harpies"
He continues curiously
"And you are the first to ask about the spell, you sure you don't want a bunny or something and I can be on my way?"
Krump begins turning his horns into rabbit ears, then back again.
"nope" she replies, shaking her head
"I wanna help you!"
Krump rushes towards her and picks her up pulling her close to his face
"Why would you want to help me" krump asks.
"I want to help you get back at all those *Harpies* that used you"
she explains
"then"
as she continues to speak Krump puts her back on the ground gently
"You are going to help me"
Krump looks at her confused
"You have 6 wishes left, I have to do what you say anyway" whilst shrugging
As he stares into her eyes krump asks
"you already know you don't have to do anything f-"
Tessa interrupts again
"I don't want 6 more wishes!" she cries "I'm going to take the power from those shackles"
Krump lifts his arms up as Tessa continues
"Then you're going to answer to only me"
His eyes widen
"and then" Tessa explains
"You'll be able to steal as many *Harpies* as you want"
Krumps is intrigued and asks
"What makes you think I won't start with you?"
"Because I'll bind you to me" Tessa explains,
"You'll have your freedom granted by me so long as you give me what I want"
She giggles at him
"Better than the shackles right?"
Just thinking of the idea gets Krump excited
"So all I have to do" asks Krump, "Is complete any request you ask"
His smile grows wider with every word
"and you will let me do whatever I want in this world?"
"Correct" explains Tessa
"Once I finally die, you will be free forever, Demon!"
Krump scoops her up, places her on her bed, book in hand
"So what are we waiting for?" Flapping his wings in excitement
"One measly human lifespan and I'm free? Deal!"
"Calm down" Shouts Tessa,
"This won't be fucking easy"
Krumps smile fades and he shrinks in size to sit in a chair
"Oh demon?!" Tessa asks
"Krump" he replies
"What?" she continues
"My names Krump" he looks at her and smiles
"Tessa"
They hold out hands and shake for the first time
"Now, Krump?" asks Tessa
"Yes Master?" Krump responds
"My second wish?!"
"What will it be Master?" Krump sighs
Tessa looks over and pats krump on the shoulder
"You said a lot of teens have been summoning you right?"
Krump increases his size again.
"Yeah, why?"
"You hate any of them?" asks Tessa
"Of course a lot of them, why?" He responds
Suddenly the most evil grin Krump had ever seen overcame Tessa,
"Pick the 10 that made you feel the worst!"
"Why?" asked Krump
"I want you to spend a few days Paying them back, however you wish!"
Krump stands tall and grins at his new master
"Yes master!"
Fire blazes from beneath his feet as Krump begins to laugh, within moments he disappears to do all manner of despicable things.
"Have fun my pet" Tessa giggles again as she begins reading the book!
**Edit**
A few bits of grammar changes and formatting.
With thanks to [u/admiralrads](https://www.reddit.com/user/admiralrads) for the criticism!
Considering doing a second part since theres some love out there!
|
He used to love the sound of young girls chanting his name, and the sound of the breath leaving their bodies. Humanities spiraling interest in the demonic world had been so wonderful at first. But now, Bar-Molad ached for the days long past when people were simply afraid of him and not curious, that awful human emotion. For a long time it had simply been priests and apostles chasing them out of people's bodies, or removing them from houses, which didn't bother him much, since there was no shortage of other places to go. However, as the years went on, those pathetic humans forgot about the dangerous side of demons, and relegated them to cheap movies and grade school myths.
"Bar-Molad..."
There it was again, that ache, that pull.
"Bar-Molad..."
Every fiber of his being screamed as his ethereal body was suddenly shifted to his new location.
"BAR-MOLAD!"
Suddenly, a light appeared, and with a loud hissing sound, like steam escaping from a cauldron, Bar-Molad was suddenly aware of the three girls standing in front of him. Dressed like they just lost a bet, in their best black clothes with piercings everywhere.
They couldn't see him at first, after the shift his body took some time to re-form, but he could see them vividly. And he hated them. How dare these CHILDREN summon him. After all of the ouija boards and tarot cards, it was enough. He was tired. Didn't they understand? He would make them understand.
While he had been stewing, the girls had gradually become aware of his presence. At first they were a little excited, but as his hate filled the room, they knew immediately this had been a disastrous idea.
"A-a-are you 'Bar-Molad'?" one of the girls spat out, trying desperately to think of something to say. Bar-Molad laughed, something like a scream mixed with a cough. The girl who spoke immediately fell to the floor, writhing in pain as every hair on her body was seared off. The other two girls made a break for the door, hoping that their friends misfortune would be their salvation, but to no avail. The door stuck in place, immovable.
As Bar-Molad slowly deconstructed each girl he whispered angrily...
"Bobby's never going to love you now."
As he finished his task, his bloodlust faded, but already he could feel himself pulled away again.
"Bar-Molad..."
| 2016-04-05T07:21:38 | 2016-04-05T07:17:50 | 41 | 12 |
[WP] You find out through a genealogy service that you're directly descended from the royal family of a small defunct kingdom. "Cool," you think. It's a nice little piece of trivia, and nothing more. Until you get a knock at your door, and answer to find a pair who start calling you Your Majesty.
|
Durchdenvold was lovely this time of year. Somehow every settlement in the tiny country managed to be roofed with stormy clouds and ringed with dark, foreboding forests. We had to take an honest-to-god stagecoach from the airport to Castle Leichenberg. One of my guides kept naming towns as we passed. Grimstrasser. Katznelbogner. Holstenwall. I was completely floored by Leichenfurt, the capital. You hear stories about, like, Cuba, right? Classic cars all over because they couldn't import new ones? It was like that. Stone-tesselated roads from the middle ages, lined with cars from the 70s, powered by fusion reactors that weren't going to be invented for another few generations. But what really got me was the statue of Ol' Great-Granddaddy Augie they had in the square in front of the palace. There in his military dress and iron mask, fist clenched towards the heavens, fire spewing from his mouth and eyes. As I got out of the coach, the assembled crowds began belting the dirge that passed for the national anthem. Grand Marshal Katzenschlager grinned at me and saluted the damn statue. I'd known this would be a bad idea.
\*\*\*
It all started because a friend of my mom's did one of those ancestry tracking sites- you spit in a test tube and mail it in with some old birth certificates. It ended with someone finding out their dad wasn't really their dad or something, but anyway, my mom suggested I try it, and I went through with it because it was a gift, and why not?
I was surprised when the results came back saying I was, on my dad's side, descended from the last king of Durchdenvold, especially since I'd never heard of the place (it'd broken away from Yugoslavia or something? I still wasn't sure). I was more surprised a week later when a huge, terrifying scarred guy and a woman- who was neither huge nor scarred by somehow even more terrifying- showed up on my doorstep saluting me and bowing. I assumed it was Jerry and one of his pranks at first, and wondered how I was going to explain to the neighbors guys in military garb saying something to me that I really hoped was not "Heil".
The huge guy turned out to be Marshal Katzenschlager of the Durchdenvold Armed Forces, and the woman was Baroness Lowenbrau of my new intelligence services. Yes, mine. As it turned out, Doktor Herzog Agostni Leichenberg, sovereign ruler of Durchdenvold, had passed away, and I was the last known heir. And I was being invited to succeed my dear old great-great-some-number-of-greats uncle as king.
\*\*\*
"Und now, der pride uof Durchdenvold..." Katzenschlager had me shaking a bunch of hands at my welcoming gala. Except the Minister for Armament Production, who, rather embarrassingly for me, turned out to have a hook instead. Then it was a few secret police, and some big blond Ivan Drago types we were supposedly taking to the next Olympics (and their coach or whatever; head of the state *uzgojniprogram*, whatever that was). Now it was the kids from some merit scholar wunderkind program or something.
Katz was ranting about them: "The old Doktor vas a stronk proponent of scientific education. With time our country shall be the intellectual envy of the civilized world. Each son and daughter of Durchdenvold speaks three langvages, vill graduate to *gymnasium* by ten, complete their national service, and begin university by tventy years uof age."
I was still a little drunk, and freaked out. I think I said "Fuckin' A, man. Cool."
\*\*\*
Being king didn't appeal to me at first. Well, not ever, really, but my first instinct was to deny it until it went away. I chased the cabinet members off my doorstep at first. That only meant they kept following me around. It was really delightful pulling the last box of cereal off the grocery store shelf and seeing Katz's face grinning at me, let me tell you.
I would up researching my royal ancestor a bit. Statesman, general, scientist, inventor of the only known functioning katzenklaive, preferred "Doktor" to "Your Majesty"; all-around Renaissance Man (Frankenstein was set during the Renaissance, right?). Exiled by a brother Mihaljo, returned to fight Nazis, then resisted Yugoslav annexation. Then loyalists to his brother's side of the family started a rebel faction and a whole civil war thing. Then he passed away in his 90s. Craziness. It didn't sound much anyone else on Dad's side of the family. Dad was an orthodontist; grandpa, too, I'm pretty sure. In any case, one of the guy's illegitimate kids turned out to be my great-grandfather or something.
In the end it was Lowenbrau who talked me into it, but I still don't remember how. Can't say no to women in uniform? Intimidated by the mole on her chin? Whatever. No way around it now.
\*\*\*
My quarters in the palace were massive. Four-poster, dumbwaiter, fireplace, desk, a wardrobe you could get lost in. But I just couldn't get to sleep somehow. I think part of it was the realistic statue of His Doktorness Uncle Augie, kept in a glass case by the dresser. Another thing that didn't help was the shadowy figure in black who crept in around midnight, carving a hole in the window with a glass cutter and stalked in with a dagger. I meant to scream. Couldn't. The dagger rose.
"And now, the last of the usurper's brood dies," I heard the figure mumble.
An extremely cliched shot rang out and winged him in the shoulder. The lights flicked on; Lowenbrau was in the room with a few secret police. Before anyone could react, the shadowy figure's hood was whipped off.
"Marshal Katzenschlager, leader of the Mihajlists. How very unsurprising." She nodded to me. "Well done. You made excellent bait, as planned."
"thanks" I said.
See, after the fourth or fifth time they'd spent trying to persuade me, Lowenbrau finally took me aside and told me the bit with the ancestry site had been a set-up; I wasn't any kind of royalty, but I was uncannily similar to the prince who'd gone missing some few years ago. The loyalists were causing more trouble and a new civil war was cooking; I was necessary as bait for the little sting they had planned.
Katz did a whole ranging foaming bit about the legitimacy of my birth- which was rather rude, I thought- but I couldn't focus on it because my brain was finally catching up with the fact that Lowenbrau hadn't fired that shot. It had come from the now-shattered glass display case, where Great-Graddad's statue- no, not a statue- was gently popping a pane of glass out and hobbling out. Not a statue at all. Under the mask and the cuirass and the robes, it was his majesty himself- Agostni Leichenberg. Not dead after all.
"What shall be done with the traitor, Doktor? Execution?" Lowenbrau asked.
"Oh, I think not." The voice was obviously old, only faintly accented, but still commanded every bit of your attention. "Bring him to the laboratory. I believe with time I can make a model citizen of the general."
Katz went pale as he was dragged off.
Somehow I was left alone with Herr Doktor. "You have done me a great service."
"Yeah... well. No worries. Happy to help. Gotta be getting back to America now, though."
"A pity. I have done much in life, but even I cannot evade death forever, certainly not at my age. I shall need an heir of my blood soon enough."
That got my attention. "I- sorry, I'm not actually, like, an heir of yours. I thought the whole thing was a set-up-"
"Arranged, perhaps. A fraud? Do you imagine exact copies of European royalty pop up by sheer coincidence? I could hardly keep track of all my offspring, but I do recall one bastard journeying to America to pursue the study of dentistry."
I didn't know what to say to that. But I thanked him and told him I'd keep his offer in mind.
|
The knocking persisted. It had been like this for a while now. Each night, strangers would come to my doorstep, bang it with all their might, and only cease when I would threaten to call the cops. Mom just said it was because I took that genealogy test some time back. She said it was all my doing since I had essentially given away all my privacy by doing it. But millions of people had done these tests with no adverse consequences. I’d told her that but she simply refused to listen.
If I had listened to her words, I wouldn’t have known that I was royalty.
My door shook rather violently now. “Alright alright I’m coming! Give me a moment.” Shuffling towards the door, the fists continued with their banging.
Swinging the door open, I gave these nuisances a piece of my mind, “Ok then, who do you think-”
It was a pair of them at the door. At the sight of me, they burst out, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! We’ve finally found you! Hurry! Time is running out!” One of them reached for me.
“Hey hey hey! Watch it!” I batted away their grimy hands. “Come any closer and I’ll call the cops!”
This sent one of the strangers to tears, “Your Majesty, please! Please don’t do this to us! We’ve been searching for your family for centuries and we can’t lose you!” He crumpled to his knees, letting his sobs echo through my front porch.
The other stranger, a rather old lady chimed in, “We know you hate pranks, but believe us, this is no prank. We just want to restore you to the power you are destined to have.”
“How did you guys know I hate- that besides the point, I suggest you leave immediately. I have the cops on speed dial.”
The pair continued their pleas, with the man stepping forward, “Please just say yes, that’s all you have to say and then we’ll leave you alone forever. Just say yes to our one favour and we’ll leave you be.”
I’d had enough with them. Slamming the door, I watched the pair's face turn to dismay. Yet, I felt rather cheeky and called out, “Alright, I say yes-”
Through my front window, I saw the man give a toothy grin. With a snap of his fingers, a force shook through my walls. Sprawled on the ground, I glanced up to see my door had fallen along with me. The man with the toothy grin stood over me. More strangers filled my front porch now.
The man called out to his fellow colleagues, “Finally! The ceremony can finally commence! Power can ours now! Quick, before she gets away!”
“Hey! What are you guys doing?” My cries were squashed as the man brought his foot down upon my mouth. Blood pooled in my mouth as he continued to stomp along my face.
Several of these strangers held me now. One lifting my chin leaving my eyes locked with my assailant. “This better be a prank.” I let out a couple wearily laughs. “Guys, can you please just release me, I promise I won’t tell.” My pleas proved futile. They were all locked in a trance, solely fueled by the lust for power.
“Oh your Majesty,” the first stranger produced an object that glinted under the moonlight now spilling in. “we know you have quite the distaste for pranks, so you bet that this is no prank.” He let his toothy grin show once more. The object he grasped was in clear view now, the dagger’s blade razor-sharp while intricate patterns decorated the handle. Chants from the other figures flooded my ears.
I should’ve listened to Mom. She’d be having the last laugh now.
r/CasualScribblings
| 2020-09-23T21:06:23 | 2020-09-23T20:24:08 | 64 | 32 |
[WP] When everyone turns 18, they receive a pet which is figurative of their personality. You're the first person to receive a dragon...
|
I was terrified as I stood before the Great Oak Door... completely alone. Standing before that door without anyone beside you was unusual. In a city the size of Fellstar you normally get at least two or three people coming of age every day. That means that very few people here are alone as they walk into the Rite and receive their Aspect.
I... wasn't quite that lucky. By some quirk of fate I'd wound up as the only person in Fellstar born exactly eighteen years before, to the day. Not that it mattered, the Rite was a routine thing that everyone goes through on their Eighteenth Year, to the day. You went to the Temple, and got to walk out into the Great Room so that everyone who bothered to attend the Rite on that day could see your Aspect form before you. I'm told it's a fairly common attraction for people with the time to spend... but that group doesn't include myself.
I had never even seen the Rite before... I had heard it described a lot though. People always told me that it was as if something new is woven into the patterns of Fate, formed from the threads of your own being. I wanted to see that... but I was also afraid.
This probably sounds a bit odd... but I was afraid that my Aspect wouldn't be a Warrior's aspect.
I was a Guard by trade at the time. I'm still not sure how I managed to find myself in that position. My father was a tailor, and my mother was one as well. Somehow I'd escaped a needle and thread, and found myself with a blade instead... and I enjoyed it. I was a soldier, by law. A soldier in the standing army that protected the realm in times of peace... and in times of war I would find myself called to true battle.
My life wasn't just something I had to live with, although I was dissatisfied with it. It was exactly what I wanted it to be. I wanted my life to be the way it was... but I knew that my Aspect could change that. If I didn't recieve a Warrior's aspect, a Wolf or Falcon or something like that, I might be removed from the Guard... and Aspects tend to run along family lines.
I was terrified that my Aspect would be something like my father's Spider, or my mother's fox. Those are clever creatures, and Aspects that mimic them are the aspects of Craftsmen. I was afraid that I would walk out onto the platform, in front of a sizable crowd... and wind up with eight eyes staring up at me.
I wanted, more than anything else, to walk out through those doors with the same confidence I felt in the training yard. I wanted to stride out like I did when it was time to do my job, rather than just stand around waiting for something to happen, and have the Rite carried out upon me to show what my Aspect was... and see that I really was a warrior.
I suppose we both know what happened in that regard, don't we?
At any rate, I eventually decided that I couldn't wait any longer. There's no real time-pressure when it comes to walking through those doors. The Order prefers we take our time, as it saves them time in mopping up the vomit of those who try to push through their nervousness. I pushed open the Great Oak Doors, and strode out onto the platform... and was immediately aware of all the eyes upon me.
Several people I knew from the Guard were out there. The Master-at-Arms was in attendance... as were several people I'd been trained alongside. I suppose they'd managed to arrange a day off-duty to attend this. I could see the faces of some people I knew from my on-duty hours as well. I saw a traveling merchant I'd spoken to more than once on patrol. I'd mentioned that today was my day about a week beforehand... he must have made note of that. There were others too... others I didn't recognize. They were people who were just there to spend some time that they didn't have anything better to do with.
I don't know if I managed to keep my posture dignified... although I do know my armor was spotless, if a bit crude compared to what I wear nowadays. I walked along the long walk from the Great Oak Doors of the Order's Temple to the Octagonal Platform. I placed one foot upon it, bending my knee almost to a right angle to get it there, and then pushed the rest of my body up after it.
I... can't recall the words that were spoken. Their meaning is blurred as well, probably by my nervous worries, but their general shape is common knowledge. The Order's Officiator gave the usual speech about a young man having finally come of age. He congratulated me for having survived this far into my life, and wished me the same luck in surviving the rest of my life until the gods decided that my time was over. Then he spoke of my accomplishments, there weren't as many as I would have liked.
Then he said that it was time for me to officially become a man, and receive the Aspect that would show who I really was, and raised his hand towards the air above the Octagonal Platform and began to chant in that strange tongue the Order uses for all their official things. The words were unfamiliar to me... but the tone of the Officiator's voice put me on edge. My hand drifted to the pommel of my blade... but I didn't draw it.
I simply stood, back straight and shoulders back as if I was standing guard over something, and watched as the Magic was woven around me... and of me.
At first it was just a fog drifting up from the Octagonal Platform, but it soon became a cloud of multicolored mist which slowly began to float upwards. The mist became an aurora of bright reds and golds, as well as other colors I had never even dreamed about. The aurora flexed in midair, its size and shape changing rapidly and unpredictably and its colors growing brighter and brighter. Finally, it became a bright and a almost blinding white that forced me to shield and avert my eyes.
I kept my eyes closed for what felt like an eternity. I was waiting for some reaction from the gathered crowd... but all was silent. My heart dropped after about five seconds of silence, and my mind began to race to the most fearful reactions. I thought that everyone was silent in shock of my having gotten an Aspect that was... well poor. An Laborer's or Guile Aspect might have come from me... and I didn't know how I would cope with an Ant or a House-Cat.
Eventually, I dropped my hand and opened my eyes... and then truly understood why everyone was silent. I had never seen a creature like the one that stood before me, or heard of anyone getting it as their Aspect.
It was in miniature... but the shape was undeniable. Its body was coated in crimson scales that seemed to be trimmed with gold at their edges. Four strong limbs came from its body, which were all shaped like those of a jungle-cat. A long tail swept backwards, and two leathery wings sprouted from its back. Its neck was long, like that of a snake. But its head was unique, and took aspects from hounds, cats, and the great-lizards.
I knew what it was of course, although, as I have already said, I had never seen anything like it. Nobody had seen anything like it for over a thousand years... not since the Great Hunt finally drove the last of them into the Abyss. It was a Dragon... my aspect was a Dragon.
Upon realizing that... my fear drained away and was replaced with confusion centered around one question: What form of Aspect is a Dragon, is it a Warrior's aspect... or something else entirely?
|
Today is my 18th birthday, it is a very special occasion as we have reached maturity in the eye's of Galfena and we are to receive a gift from her that will help tell the world our personality, and decide our status in the village.
It's regarded as a big event in a persons life because it helps decide who we are. Some might get dogs, cats, or mice as their gift. Some have gotten more exotic animals such as a lions, bears, wolves, and once a Platypus was given to Ruppert. The unlucky bastard, he got mocked for weeks because of it, but he's settled himself in with his role as the village fisherman so he's doing quite right.
Me? I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking at right now... The ritual was performed and done correctly. I practiced the chant over and over again, but what stands before me... I'm not quite sure what it is, it looks like the size of a dog, but it has scales and... Are those wings?
Wh-what!?
Okay, this is... this is weird... I'll just talk with the village Elder about this... Surely he will know something... Or not...
It seems like this is a first for the Elder as well, no one before me has ever received such a gift from Galfena before. There is no record of such a beast.
It's rather strange though, most beasts with scales are cold to the such, but this one... This one feels warm as if I was cradling a child in my arms...
It may as well be, it's a rather small beast but there have been some deceptive creatures in the past that grew much larger than they were summoned as, so I may want to keep an eye on it. The one thing we do know is it eats meat, it attempted to kill a few chickens we have in pens with it's whip like tail and then snapping at them with it's small mouth.
It was kinda funny if I must admit, but yeah the Elder says he does not know what job would be suited for me so he iis giving me a choice of job for the village. I was thinking of maybe being a solider, going out and fighting in heroic battles, kill enemies and live a fantasy life style.
But, I'm thinking I might become a trader and travel to other villages to sell goods, and gain a bit of gold to invest into other things that might be able to bring in some profit for our village.
Not sure yet, still not sure what this thing is either. But it's interesting to say the least. I think I'll name it Ulla.
| 2014-09-28T11:03:09 | 2014-09-28T08:18:33 | 67 | 15 |
[WP] You are an immortal sentenced to 1000 years of imprisonment. After 200, your prison is forgotten. After 10,000 years, it is rediscovered.
Optional: Your discoverers refuse to release you.
|
The guard poked at the small of my back, trying to force me forward. I was in no hurry, I had all the time in the world.
"No funny business, 'ya hear? Get in there, talk to the Warden, and get the fuck out. Got it? I've got my eye on you." He said, his voice dripping with contempt.
The Warden had summoned me to the infirmary. You see, I had outlived three previous wardens. This one is the fourth to latchkey me. No matter, he'll soon be dead too.
The iron and steel door creaked open, the red cross emblazoned on the door had rusted away, though I was sure I could remember a time when the door still reeked of fresh paint .
"Enter." A weak voice beckoned.
I crossed the threshold, my manacles and iron bonds clinking and clanking on the cool linoleum floor, my breath heavy and hot from recirculating in the leather bondage on my head.
"Captain, please remove his mask. It is difficult enough to communicate half dead as I am. Then wait outside, if you please. I will send for you if needed" The Warden rasped. He was on his deathbed.
The infirmary was devoid of any nursing staff, or indeed even any other prisoners. We were alone as the guard Captain slammed the heavy door shut behind us. For a long time, we said nothing to one another. I stood there, listening to the sound of the cardiac monitor drone out a steady *beep...beep...beep...*. It was only after I realized the Warden had to take a deep breath and summon the strength from somewhere within to speak to me loud enough to hear.
"You've been here a long time. Perhaps even longer than you know. Do you know why you are here?" He asked, and then answered without waiting for my reply, "Ten consecutive life sentences..." He coughed and spewed up bile, his hollow eyes rattling in his skull with every hoarse gasp. "Equivalent to approximately one millennium of corrective administration. I guess they wanted to give you a change to redeem yourself for the damage you've done. Parole was not denied to you, yet it must seem as unlikely to you as it would to anyone that you could get out of ten life sentences on good behavior alone..." The warden wheezed and reached for an oxygen mask.
"That doesn't answer the question, does it?" I said coolly.
"Hmm?" The warden uttered what might have passed for an interested reply, but it was mostly muffled by the oxygen mask.
"You asked me if I knew why I was here. To tell you the truth, I don't remember. It must have been something bad to earn me ten lifetimes in this place. Tell me true, Warden - how long have I been here? Two hundred years? Two thousand?"
The warden released his grip on the mask.
"I cannot say. You were here when my predecessor was in charge, and his predecessor before him. Beyond that, I do not know, but I do know that you had been rotting in that cell since long before I was born. The records of your interment have all been expunged. We do not know your crimes, and yet it falls upon us to keep you locked away here. We do not interpret justice, we only enforce it. Do you understand?" He said glumly.
"So you understand that I am ageless and immortal?"
"I think it is you who does not understand. Here, you are indeed immortal. And out there, too. But especially here. Once you were mortal, but when you came here you were already unbound from the flow of time." He paused to catch his breath.
I was already growing weary of his rebukes. My eyes darted around the room. I needed a weapon. A tool. Something. My train of thought was interrupted by the Warden laughing a half-cough half-chortle.
"You never change, do you? Oh, if only you knew that you could have been gone from here so long ago if only you had taken a single minute from your ageless existence to think about all the wrong you've done in your life. To think about all those people you hurt, whose lives you cut short with your anger and greed."
My gaze was transfixed on a razor sharp scalpel across the room. I began to shuffle my feet towards it, reaching out instinctively with my arm as if to will it towards me.
"You don't want that. You want to go. To see your wife and child again. They want to see you redeem yourself, to make peace with your sins."
Rage boiled in the blackest pits of my heart.
"You don't know them. They're dead by now, and I'll be alive forever. If you won't release me, the next one will. Or the next one. It makes no difference."
My fingers grasped the cold steel, my heart began to race again like it had before in some distant lifetime.
The old warden could only chuckle. "Do it then. When my life ends by your hand, you start all over again. Just as before."
I was so startled that I nearly dropped my blade.
"What?" I asked in confusion.
"You believe that you have been here for 200 years, but in reality it has been 200 years since you last murdered someone. Each time you sin, you forget a little more. Each time you slay, your old life slips away, and your thousand year penance stretches on for ages." He explained, his words crawling out from dry lungs.
"How do you know that? How long have I been here?! How long?!"
The warden gestured for me to come forward, though the scalpel was still in my hand.
"...Closer." he rasped.
When I was within whisper range, he spoke the truth directly to my ears.
"Ten thousand years you have suffered here in damnation. Ten thousand long years. Do you remember now?"
All the memories came flooding back at once. It was true - I had sinned and been sentenced to 1000 years in prison. But I had died there in that prison before I ever even served out 35 years. This was not the same prison. These were not the same walls surrounding me. This was different.
When I came to, my hands were slick with hot blood. The medical instrument was jammed in the warden's chest. I did not even remember doing it, but in my rage I must have lost myself. The warden opened his mouth to speak, spitting up a dribble of blood that oozed from the corner of his mouth.
"This wound... it is nothing. So close... you are so close this time. It is my time. I would have died anyway. It was a mercy. You don't need to remember me. You are already forgiven. But you must remember the others. This time... remember. You must... go..."
The warden drifted off, and the cardiac monitor went flat. The guard captain burst in through the door and wrestled me to the ground, though I did not have the will or strength to fight back anymore.
As I was being escorted back to solitary confinement, the warden's words rang inside my head. I swore that I would remember this time. That I would take the time to think of all the people who I had killed, but by the time the door of the solitary cell closed, and darkness surrounded me, I had already forgotten who or what I was meant to remember, and fear gripped hold of me once again. I was back in my own personal hell.
|
"Death number two hundred and seventy-six," I mutter to myself adding another tally to the floor. I'm running out of space. I had to stop counting the days, not enough room in this box. All I know is that I've been here for so long that even the thought of masturbating isn't even enjoyable anymore— er I mean I've been here a while and thats all you need to know. Wait, am I having another conversation with myself? Shit, I guess I've finally lost it. Probably all the dying I've done over the years, they hear immortal and they don't realize I still die, just not permanently. Wait why am I explaining this to myself, I know how it works. Oh well.
Suddenly I hear the door from down the hall start to open. A shadowy figure with one giant glowing eye peers inside and then slowly moves into the hallway. I can't quite make out any features, but the figure is slowly moving towards my cell. I quickly move to the back of my cell, retreating from the bright light. The figure comes to a stop directly in front of my cell and stands there for a few seconds. Suddenly the light flips off. "G'day mate, I've been lookin' all over for ya."
I let out the deepest sigh that I have in years as I come to a realization of my situation. "Fucking Australians," I say aloud without being able to stop myself. I'm not surprised really considering the only people crazy enough to come here would be Australian. Can't say I'm not at least a little grateful though.
"Well S'cuse you cunt, I'm here to save ya, let's get a move on we got missions to finish!" the man exclaimed.
"How long has it been?" I ask as I make my way down the hall with him.
"Well I'd say its been about five thousand years, ya got a lotta catchin' up to do, the Board ain't gonna be too happy to see ya."
He hands me a jacket and gives me a smile that I feel like I've seen before, something familiar.
"I guess some things never change huh, let's go then."
We make it outside to a helicopter and take off, the Australian still giving me that same familiar smile.
*criticism is welcome, I've recently found a lot of motivation for writing and want to improve myself as much as possible, I'm not confident in my writing nor ideas and want to build something I can be confident in. Thank you.*
| 2017-11-02T18:04:17 | 2017-11-02T15:37:24 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel?
|
Finn stared, first in disbelief then in annoyance, as a crossbow bolt flew like quicksilver across the room, directly into the Lord Sovereign's chest, killing him instantly. Finn continued to stare as the strands of magic tying the golems around the room dissipated as the source drew its last breath.
Was that it?
"Haha! With that, his rule is over and done! Finally, all those that lived in his tyranny can find peace without fear!" exclaimed Fetter, the assassin-turned-hero. "All those nights of planning, the hours spent and the blood spilt gathering the right materials to craft the perfect poison, the friends I had to make to get past his guards and fortifications! Delirious numbers of traps and even these blasted golems!" he continued, punctuating his statement with a kick to one of the fallen sentries. Fetter stood there, face beaming, exulting in his success for another moment before noticing Finn.
"Ah. You are his Right Hand, yes?"
"Was, I think, is the more apt descriptor now Sir Fetter," Finn said casually, "and what, might I ask, do you plan to do now?"
If Fetter was taken aback at Finn's nonchalance he did well to hide it as he lowered his crossbow and began walking through the room, picking his way around each golem, meticulously checking that each was disabled.
"I think that answer is obvious; I'll dissolve the rest of his court - what few will remain when word spreads of his death - and setup a cleaner group to take care of the affairs of the kingdom."
"And you will... What, take the throne in the interim? Rule in his stead and be a good king until all affairs have been seen to and you can go home?" asked Finn, incredulous.
Fetter laughed, his tone teasing but sincere to Finn's ears, "Hah! Wouldn't that be perfect? But no, I've seen what power does to those who have it and I'll stick to my other vices if it's all the same to you. I'm sure you would have relished the chance to serve another king, be the Right Hand again, but you'll have to settle with a place as an equal to others."
Finn nodded slowly, thinking, as Fetter finished his circuit of the room. He had come to stop just before the rather plain throne and was pulling the bolt from the corpse of the late king. It came away nicely, pulling the body to the floor along with it as Fetter slumped into the throne seat, exhaustion catching up with him during the aftermath. He was older than he looked, Finn thought, and the fight through the castle had taken it's toll. His leather armour stuck to him from a handful of deep cuts, and his breathing grew ragged now that adrenaline was no longer pumping.
Finn pursed his lips, suddenly filled with dread and guilt. He opened his mouth and began to speak, "Fetter, get up qui-"
It was too late.
"Saints, Finn. If nothing else, this venture's shown me I'm too old for these things any more," Fetter said, voice straining as he loosed the straps of his breastplate. His face broke into a grin as the straps gave way, "A cool bath and a long rest is all the reward I want these days, bahahah!"
The strands of magic that had faded away when the bolt struck the Lord Sovereign's chest suddenly sprang to life, flying from the wound in the king's chest to the arms of the throne. They wove quickly around Fetter's arms, binding him.
"Monster! What trick is this?!" Fetter screamed as he strained against the madical bindings, thrashing his head back as his muscles tensed and pulled. The strands coiled their way up his arms and through his armour, covering every inch of him as they worked their way into his mouth, cutting Fetter's cries short. Fetter's body spasmed, bones cracking, as the strands' magic changed him.
It took only a minute for the process to finish and after it was complete the Lord Sovereign sat upon the throne once more, imperious.
"Finn; please have the guards take the remains of the last body to the crematorium and call the magisters to the throne room, the golems will need to be re-bound."
Fetter was better than most, thought Finn: competent enough to breach the walls, navigate the traps and best the golems and even good in a kind of simple, pragmatic way. Yet, still, he had been neither as studious nor as thorough as Finn had. The Lord Sovereign had been killed before by a skilled assassin and had, then as now, come back to life through the grace of those cursed strands. They bound the entity that called itself the Lord Sovereign to the body of any who sat on the throne, subsisting off of the borrowed form until another came along. Finn had figured this out by scrounging through the Lord Sovereigns massive library, spending years of sleepless nights dedicated to the research. Even then, it wasn't until the last time the Lord Sovereign had been killed that Finn had been able to piece together what he'd read. He hadn't kept this information from Fetter on purpose, Fetter just hadn't let him explain. Storybook Heroes never listened after the "final" blow had been struck, too, but he'd never imagined a real life hero would be so callous.
Finn sighed inwardly, bowing, "Of course, my Lord."
((Edit: Spelling and names.))
|
I was angry. I spent the last decades of my life doing what I had to do to rise to my powerful position. Then, my son had to come along when I was so close to finishing my perfect plan. I wish he had just joined me and we could combine our powers. Sadly, my life energy is going out after I had to help my son defeat The Emperor. I know he'll do a fine job ruling without me. Now it's time to be one with The Force..
| 2017-03-12T13:41:06 | 2017-03-12T09:58:04 | 89 | 47 |
[WP] “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.”
|
"You *stupid* boy. You've doomed us all!"
Caleb winced at his father's words.
"What did I tell you? Never let *anyone* in. Why Caleb? Why do you not listen?" his father slammed his fist against the drab wooden table.
"B-but father," Caleb whimpered as he tried his best not to shake. "He was an old man, a-and he was thirsty! All he wanted was a sip of water... he wasn't a bad per-"
"You fool! This time we were lucky. What if he was from the Glades? Or the Swamps? Jesus! Calab he could have had a group of soldiers or worse, Maneaters following right behind him!"
"But father, he didn't and he was harmless in the end so-"
"No! Why don't you get it Caleb? It doesn't matter if he *didn't*. What matters is that he could have been a danger to us all. He could have been a lone raider, and you would have lead a *wolf* right into the middle of our encampment. We could have been slaughtered right in our sleep, you foolish child. "
Caleb hung his head in shame as his father sighed deeply.
"Caleb, you're sixteen now and you're only this *old* because we don't take *chances.* Trusts no one. It doesn't matter how harmless they seem - It's what they want you to think, understand? I've seen too many settlements massacred because they let one person in for a drink."
Caleb knew his father was right. He was older and experienced much more of this ruined world than he did. But something didn't sit right with him. Caleb had seen the old man collapse in the deserts. He was so old and frail that the boy had thought he was a skeleton, or a wight. But when he got closer, he saw that the old man was harmless. And all he wanted was water. So the boy lead him to a pond near their sanctuary and just like that, the old man was gone. Nothing changed. No disaster or slaughter, but then he told his father about it and now he was suffering for not keeping it to himself.
"Listen Caleb, don't let any of the others know of this old man okay? Boy you better pray that -"
Suddenly, the settlement alarms blared. Caleb hadn't even known that the settlement they lived in had *alarms.*
Caleb's father cursed, composed himself, then stepped out of the hut they lived in. Caleb followed.
"Hey you! Stop! What's going on!?" his father questioned a random passerby.
"A horde of 'em. O-outside. They're sur-surrounding us as we speak!" the passerby stammered, fear plastered on his face.
"A horde of what?!" his father snapped.
"M-maneaters! I don't know how they found this place!"
His father cursed quickly then spoke, "they may have wandered here by chance. Hurry! We must arm ourselves and man the posts on the wall!"
The man nodded and began relaying the message as he sprinted around the encampment.
Caleb trembled as he wondered. *Am I to blame for this? Was it really the old man who had caused this?*
Caleb's father grabbed Caleb by the scruff of his shirt, and whispered in his ear, "listen boy, grab everything you can! We're getting the fuck out of-"
Suddenly blood spilled onto Caleb's face. Caleb looked at the bone arrow protruding out of the socket of his father's eye. Then he saw.
Maneaters. *Everywhere.* The wall didn't even hold. There were just too many. Naked, adorned with human skin and bones, they screamed and hollered like wild animals as they slaughtered the settlers.
*What have I done?* Caleb wondered, as an arrow took him in the knee and then he fell. He fell onto the dirt where his father's dead face starred at him from the side.
A Maneater crept up to Caleb and licked the blood from his knee, then began patching it up. Caleb would be kept alive to be eaten for dessert on a later date. Maybe it would be for a wedding feast or a -
Suddenly, the Maneater's head exploded, his brains spilling and smearing Caleb as he fell.
Caleb looked up.
Looming over Caleb was the old man. In his hands, a revolver and a double-barrel shotgun with smoke spilling out of the barrels. They were weapons that were perhaps as old as him.
It was then that Caleb understood as he watched the old man dispatch the Maneaters with precision and ease. The old man was a mountain of calm within a sea of chaos. He reloaded his weapons deftly, as if he had done it a thousand times and when the Maneaters came too close, the old man kicked with his steel-tipped boots shattering their bones like glass.
The Maneaters began to group up, wanting to push as a group instead of dying one by one, but when they did, the Old man simply chucked a grenade into the center of their formation.
The old man was not old by *mere* accident. He was old because he was experienced. All his years of fighting in the harshest of conditions, accumulating experience in war and combat and above all else, he was fighting children. Barbaric, man-eating *children* that had fallen prey to their instincts and had never known the practiced art of mechanical slaughter.
"Thank you for the water kid. I'm just here to repay the favor, so don't die just yet," the old man grumbled as he chucked another grenade.
Caleb cried as he nodded, overcome with emotion. He didn't know what to say. He had never expected the old man to return, and to save him too. It was too much. But as Caleb lay there crying he came to one realization. Something that didn't sit right with him before. Something about what his father had said.
Maybe it *was* worth it to take chances.
----
----
/r/em_pathy
|
Always thought that was a stupid saying. Than again, I have a stupid job, so I can’t complain.
They say that being a secret agent is being brave- risking your life on a daily, making sure no one knows who you are, and losing your soul in the process. Sounds thrilling, heroic, even.
But when you get to my age you realize that this is just stupid. Most of the times, I just replace one pebble on the side of a road near a lonely village, with another pebble, but this time, some dickhead in h.q. put a motherboard in it. And on the occasions that I am getting to do something big, like get rid of of some cult leader or something, it doesn’t take much- you get instructions on when he’s gonna be alone, you wait, there’s one moment of tension, and bam, you’re done. Nothing like intense gunfights or advanced hand to hand combat. Most of the times, they don’t even realize they’re dead. And when you’re as old as me, you understand that, and you stop giving a damn. The kids are excited for their first pebble switch, and this excitement gets them killed.
| 2018-07-15T09:07:57 | 2018-07-15T08:03:08 | 753 | 139 |
[WP]You keep getting kidnapped by the biggest Supervillain on the planet. The Superheroes of the world think it's because you're important, however, it's really because the Villain really likes talking to you. You know this but you can't tell anyone because if you do people will get hurt worse.
You can take this story in one of two ways; 1) The Superheroes are talking to you about this series of kidnappings and trying to figure out what is actually going on or 2) This is the day when you selfishly try to get out of this situation as cleanly as possible.
|
"No--he is not sleeping with me," I informed the two heroes, blandly. The three of us sat in a too-white interrogation room, sitting in shiny steel chairs. One, hero, powerfully built and friendly looking sat across from me, and the other, a thin wisp of a man sat in the corner. I was in my pajamas and had my bare feet on the table, refusing to take this whole thing seriously.
"Come now, Ms. Lansing, you're a pretty woman. He's got to be..." began Captain Storm.
"God I don't even know if Pan likes women," I admitted thinking back for any evidence of flirting or some sort of interest. "For all I know he's asexual."
"Ms. Lansing you have been kidnapped 37 times in the past four years alone," the Captain said trying to bring me back to the subject at hand.
But I was stuck on the thought of the long, absurdly gangly Dr. Panic and his potential mating preferences. "Strikes me as the kind of person who would procreate using mitosis."
"Ms. Lansing ever since he attacked the Wayfair Laboratories and took you hostage--he hasn't stopped! He even sent us a threat telling us to leave you alone and not to stop him! By literally pinning the note to the Blue Rider's back! With a nail!"
I wrinkled my nose. "Yeah--he found out you have the Silent Shadow following me," I left out that I had mentioned that fact to him. "And he really didn't like that."
"You have piqued the interest of the world's most brilliant dictator, Lansing. And most interestingly, he has even let you go of his own volition on several occasions," explained the Silent Shadow from where he sat in the corner of the interrogation room. "It is not a far leap in logic, that you are working for him in some manner." His tone made it clear that he believed those words and thought I was a threat.
"I ain't done shit, SS," I snapped at him. "And what am I going to do to help him? I've got no powers. I'm not a scientist. I'm a film studies major!"
"Who makes documentaries about superpowers and super science," Shadow leaned forward glaring at me.
"You backed the Secrecy Bill, didn't you," my patience for Shadow immediately bottomed out. "Free speech bud, we are allowed to talk about whatever the hell we want to talk about--and that includes your superpowers AND your fuckups," I snapped back.
The Silent Shadow glared back at me with those dark, endless black eyes.
We were distracted by a distant thud noise. But the Captain quickly got us back on track.
"You have to realize how dangerous this is. Dr. Panic is a tyrannical pirate king. He murders and kills with impunity."
"Where does that sound familiar?" I asked pointedly. "Why that sounds a lot like what this asshole did to Fire Master." I jabbed an accusatory thumb at Silent Shadow. You don't get to kill someone in cold blood--even a villain--and not get a nasty reputation. Even if the government was stupid enough to excuse the action, I wasn't about to.
"This is why we needed the bill, Cap," Shadow growled.
"This is why we need to shut people up, Cap, they hold us responsible for our actions," I mocked him with a high pitched toddler voice.
"Listen you stupid little woman we are trying to HELP you!" Shadow snapped. "And near as I can tell you're aiding and abetting a CRIMINAL."
"And you aren't letting me out of this interrogation room even though I'm not under arrest," I shot back. "Pan's rules suck but at least he's honest enough to follow his own rules. You, not so much."
"Ms. Lansing, we are trying to help you. To keep you safe."
"Did I ask for help, asshole?"
"Maybe if we throw you in jail for a little while, you'll feel like talking," Shadow said. "Obstruction of justice sounds about right."
"My lawyer will eat you for lunch," I gave a wicked smile. "And I'd film the whole fiasco."
The Captain's patience had run thin. "Ms. Lansing, this isn't some game. This isn't about winning--it's about a crazed pirate king kidnapping you."
"What about the crazed masked men who've kidnapped me?" I asked raising an eyebrow at him. "You do this almost as much as he does."
"Rescuing isn't the same as kidnapping!"
"I was eating breakfast when that asshole pulled me through the damn shadow behind my fridge to bring me here! How is that NOT kidnapping?" I motioned at Shadow.
"Why does Dr. Panic need you?" The Shadow got to his feet and slammed his fist on the interrogation room table. "What purpose could you possibly serve for him? Tell us now! Or I'll--"
The door of the interrogation room flew open and a familiar spindly figure stood in the doorway flanked by two henchmen in ridiculous outfits.
The Captain and Silent Shadow were shot before they could do anything. The Captain took the bolt of lightning like a champ but he wasn't quite invulnerable enough to stay conscious. The Silent Shadow was reduced to his ethereal form by the force of the lightning.
Dr. Pan, all weird angles and wearing that ridiculous Hook coat and those heavy duty laboratory goggles, was holding two martini glasses with a green liquid in them.
"I've got Miami Connection and Appletinis," he said with an absurdly happy smile. "Lets go!"
Edit: Thanks for the editing, guys! Fixed those typos.
|
I, Dylan Erikson, sat in a room, tied to a chair. He was there, he always is. Oliver Wayfield, a.k.a. Haymaker. I flashed him a quick smile as he came over and untied the ropes
"Thanks again for agreeing to come and talk," He said.
"No problem," I replied happily.
"So, got anyone in you're life?" This caused us both to laugh
"Only you," I responded with the most serious voice I could.
We had been seeing each other for a while now. We first met in a coffee shop and he thought it would be a decent idea to stage kidnappings and become a 'Supervillain". He's more like my adorable marshmellow, so I went along with it.
| 2017-05-25T04:47:47 | 2017-05-25T04:45:42 | 520 | 19 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile.
|
“Hahaha I love him so damn much,” I laugh from my small cage.
The paranoid one, the one that sounds the youngest is the first to address me. “Hey, you! Didn’t we tell you to shut the fuck up?! This doesn’t change anything.”
The older, more confident one walks up to my “cage” and beats the butt of the gun on the window, wearing a large, gapped-filled grin. “So what, your husband doesn’t give a damn about you? I’m sure someone will still pay a pretty penny for spoiled little rich girl like you.”
I shake my head, unable to contain my laughter. “I have to do this every full moon, and yet somehow he still manages to make this fun for me.”
I look at him through the window, my recently washed hair hanging down in front of my face. “Kane, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
He looks at me annoyed at first, and then he notices the horrible figure to his right. He takes a step back and tries to run, but a dark hand grabs him from below, holding him in place. Terror fills his face.
“No... fuck... you were in my dreams. Ever since I was a kid. You’re... not real.”
Through my small window, I see the tall lumbering monster saunter into my field of vision. It appears as a brown, fleshy creature with many appendages protruding from its abdomen. Eyeballs resting on the tips of its stubs all pointing towards Kane, who is now frozen in fear. With each step it takes, it’s flesh ripples from its feet to the top of its headless abdomen.
His partner noticing the sudden change in disposition, approaches him and puts his hand on his shoulder.
“Kane whats going on with you?! Don’t break on me now, we captured her without a hitch. Still no word on the police radio either.”
Kane slowly looks to his partner, unable to create any words. The creature quickly grabs him and pulls him into the ground with the assistance of the hands still holding his ankles.
“What the hell?!” He takes a step back, and reaches for his gun.
Still laughing to myself, I step out of my “prison,” out into the dimly lit field they were keeping me in. I look around and get my bearings, while taking a deep breath of crisp night air. Lee looks at me, confusion and terror on his face.
“No no no. Fuck this shit, I’m out.” He turns and runs the opposite direction, before hitting a transparent wall that ripples upon contact.
I walk up behind him, “hmm it’s always exciting to see what you conjure up. Kane’s was kinda boring, quite typical actually. What will you see?”
He turns back to me, his face completely pale. When he notices a small girl, knee-high in front of him. “No no no, baby girl you can’t be here. You need to go back home with mommy.”
She looks up at him, “but daddy, what are we gonna do when you’re gone?”
He looks at me, confused at first, then the pieces begin to click. “At least let me say goodbye to them.”
I look at him frowning, “sorry I wish it worked that way.”
Tears forming in his eyes, the girl takes him by the hand and smiles at him. “Come on daddy, I’ll go with you so you’re not alone.”
Almost instantly, he disappears into the ground along with the spectral image of the girl.
With that, two marbles plop to the ground in front of me. Sighing, I picking them up. “Well shit, that was depressing.”
I turn around and the next thing I know I’m back in my house, on my couch sitting in front of the TV. My husband walks up and sets a bag down in front of me with a big yellow smiley face. “Hey honey, you made it home just in time! Just got back with some takeout from your favorite place. How was your night?”
I look at him, exhausted. “Oh you know, another full moon. I loved the message you sent. But did it have to be a father? You know that always bums me out.”
He shrugs, taking the fried rice and chicken out of the bag. “Eh I know, but trust me when I say it’s better for her and her mom for him to be gone. Wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
I sigh a breath of relief. “Oh well that makes me feel a little better, let me give him the marbles real quick.”
I walk into the kitchen and place the marbles in one of our 100 black, string-tied bags. I then set it on the floor, in the middle of the painted symbol, unchanged for many years. The same dark hands from earlier reach up and slowly pull the bag into the ground.
I walk back over to the couch and plop down next to my husband. He extends his hand out to mine holding a small golden cookie. “Hey before we eat, let’s check our fortunes.”
Laughing, I crack open the cookie, take the slip of paper out and then hand it to him. “Here you read it”.
He takes it in his hand, furrowing his brow to read the message. “Hmm it says, ‘you will live a very long and very healthy life.’”
We both burst out into laughter. Him and I grab our wine from the table and raise our glasses to toast. Smiling, we say at the same time
“to eternal life.”
|
I look up through the tiny window and make a small growling noise as I smile. The kidnappers aren't what you call intelligent and are very clearly nervous. I'm about to make that a whole lot worse. I start to convulse in my chair, rattling around. I gnash my teeth and arch my back, straining against my bonds. I look at them and howl, saliva dripping from my mouth. The kidnappers run for their lives.
I embraced my wife. At the hospital after I'd been checked over. "Thanks for the note, it really helped me sell it! Hopefully that's another gang scared away from kidnap and extortion."
| 2021-03-19T01:11:48 | 2021-03-19T00:26:21 | 345 | 137 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why.
|
There is a handbook on Super Villainy. Chapter One, Page three, section eight. "Do not go after the loved ones of superheros." A simple rule, really, but oddly enough, one with no case studies. Super Villains love case studies, it lets them get their egos up that they won't make the same mistakes as others. That's why there is no case studies. No one broke this rule, or at least according to all official records, no one broke this rule. No media reports, no tales told to one another, only looks of concern and shook heads if you mentioned it at "The Haunt."
&#x200B;
Doctor James "Nuclei" Angelos was a minor player. He could absorb radiation, solar, alpha, beta, gamma, microwave, you name it, he could absorb it. Then he could convert that to raw electrical power. A cool ability, and one that the Department of Energy would love if he wasn't abusing. He held three doctorates in various fields of nuclear and quantum research, and was a bonafide genius. Problem with smart people, is they often think they're the smartest person in the room. His rival, one hero named simply "The Alchemist" was actually a rival scientist as well, in the field of quantum mechanics. His power was a little more odd, in that he could reconstruct anything at the quantum, atomic and molecular level, so long as he had enough raw material. A really neat ability, one he had used to be at many a humanitarian crisis. He had been a hero at every level. James hated him, both for the fact that the Alchemist had thwarted his plans time and time again, but also that he seemed to be so much more successful. And one he had found the true identity of his nemesis, he had hatched a plan to take everything from him.
&#x200B;
Doctor Alexander "The Alchemist" Maddison was a simple man before he found his powers. He loved to spend time with his husband and their son. He was fond of gardening, loved to go on hikes, and owned a 1987 Toyota 4Runner that he used to go camping on weekends. Every first sunday of the month he donated food and goods to local charities for those in need, and was regarded for his wing of the Children's Miracle Hospital, where many well known superheros would sponsor sick children. The Alchemist hadn't sponsored it, Alexander Maddison had sponsored it. He was a mild mannered man, who loved the little things, and that bled into the Alchemist, who universally was regarded to be kind, even to the villains he captured.
&#x200B;
Right now he was standing over the burnt out remains of his lake side house.
&#x200B;
Through the smell of charred concrete and burnt wood, the acrid smell of melted plastics and burned away cleaning chemicals, there was one smell that could just be picked out. A haunting, twisted smell, that melted into the back of your mind and stuck there. Burnt human flesh was such a distinct smell, one the Alchemist had smelt when he's been too late to a fire downtown early in his career. There were only two people that could have been in the house at the time.
&#x200B;
Officially? A lightning strike had caused the fire and destruction. People had seen the small, quick to blow away thunderstorm just missing the edge of town, so the people would buy the story. The media moved quick to cover it up, but the heros watching knew, the villains watching new, the Alchemist knew. This was no lightning strike.
&#x200B;
Nuclei had been shocked when he had been turned away from "The Haunt", not even politely, but thrown out by the guards and told he should run. Not even the seedier "Dungeon" would have anything to do with him. Every call he made, every text he sent was returned with the same message. "Do not message me, do not contact me, and if you know what's best, you're going to run." It had taken time, but he'd gotten the hint, and in his 2001 Honda Civic had made his way out of town. He's followed along a winding set of paths, his Spotify playlist dark and brooding, but still, he felt his success, he'd *won*. He was almost to Silver Star City when the oddest thing happened, his wheels turned to sand, and at seventy-five miles per hour, his Civic no longer was churning along peacefully, but was instead rolling end over end as it had slammed into the ground and lost control. It was some miracle that James survived, pushed up against the roof of his overturned wreck. He could smell the gasoline, and feel the heat from a small fire that had broken out. As he tried to climb from the smashed window, the ground turned to tar, and him, the former Honda Civic, and all his belongings sunk into it. James was a smart man, he held three doctorates after all, and though heavily concussed could see the man standing in the distance. He could put two and two together, and all of a sudden he understood the reason Chapter One, page three, section eight existed. As gasoline from the upturned vehicle continued to pool on top of the tar he himself was sinking into, he understood the error of his ways, and as the ground solidified around him, he begged for mercy, shouting from the top of his slightly compressed lungs. But the man in the distance just stood and watched. His head above the ground, and only parts of his body exposed above ground.
&#x200B;
As the gasoline finally caught, there would be no dramatic Hollywood explosion, the fire would burn for hours and James, not quite exposed enough would not quickly go in flames, but would instead slowly bake as the surrounding asphalt headed up, and even then, it was not the final blow. No, as he laid there in the slowly rising sun, he could hear in the distance the sound of fire engines and for a brief moment thought his ordeal was over, that he might live to tell the story, to be a perfect case study. But as he saw the red and white lights of the truck approaching a sinking sensation came to him. Not in his heart or gut, but a literal sinking sensation as the asphalt once again returned to it's tar-like state, and him his former vehicle, and any sign that he had existed sunk into the ground and was consumed. By the time the firefighters would carve him out, he long ago would have suffocated. His name was never released, and all records of him said that he had simply "gone missing".
&#x200B;
There is a handbook on Super Villainy, and Chapter One, page three, section nine states, seemingly in direct counter to section eight, "You never know what a hero is capable of, so it is best to never let them find out."
|
In the end it was not Rootman’s ruthlessness that made an imprint on Scythe. He’d seen that cold look in eyes before. The eyes of those who lost, lifeless, unbelieving, bargaining, pain. He’d bathed in the depths of their sorrow. He’d seen so many snap, unwilling to continue in a reality without their loved ones. He’d lapped up their vows of vengeance. Super or not, all people broke the same, they all came crumbling down. Life can be cut swiftly, and now they knew that.
Scythe loved nothing and wanted nothing. He didn’t care about living, and he had no fear of dying. He was untouchable. He felt this clear. As a matter of fact, he thought of being killed as the ultimate victory. He would be dead, and whoever killed him would still be without their family, they’d still be alone, and he’d be laughing in his grave.
Rootman was different. He broke, yes. But there was something more working behind his eyes. Scythe recognized it immediately, and found the most joy in Rootman’s sorrow. He could live off of that pain for years. And he’d have to, because Rootman had imprisoned him in a private facility with one other prisoner. Scythe considered this an honor.
He’d wondered what the other inmate had done. He dreamt of bragging to them about how he cut Rootman the deepest. Scythe did not think it weird when, after only a year, their cells unlocked and he was allowed to meet his new companion.
He did not think it weird that he and Bliss were allowed to spend time together. The facility was clearly inescapable. They both agreed on this, so they decided to make the best of their time together.
No it was not Rootman’s ruthlessness Scythe thought of, as he looked in the mirror washing the blood of Bliss and their newborn child off his aged face. It was Rootman’s patience.
| 2020-07-12T09:36:39 | 2020-07-12T08:51:46 | 2,138 | 214 |
[WP] It is true, most species in the galaxy found us to be uncivilized. But they lived for millennia under the thumb of an empire that basically bred them for domestication. They fear us like wolves, we pity them like pugs.
|
First contact could not have been more bizarre for the research team. They weren't diplomats, no, but we had chosen them for their ability to reason and communicate. 5 people on the Forward Contact Team met them, peacefully, slowly, with communicators ready and outstretched hands. Until that moment we had been afraid of them, too.
But then we looked at them, they trembled, their eyes darted back and forth, and they kept their distance.
"Greetings, from the Terran Federation, and from the human race! Can you hear us?"
"Are- are those *weapons??*"
"No of course-" They were looking at two of the FCT's hips. They did have pistols. Small ones. "Well, yes, technically. But they're just for defense." Said the team leader. She outstretched her hand once more. They had exchanged some small text communications before this. They knew how to shake hands.
"Y- you're-re not s-sup-pposed to have *weapons.*" The creature, no more than 1.2 meters tall, shuddered and crept backward.
"It's no problem, we come in peace. We're sorry if we've offended you."
"No o-offense-se. But you're not supposed to have them." It remarked again. It wouldn't take it's eyes off the pistols. The team leader lowered her hand.
"Says *who?*" But the creature did not answer the question. It cowered away, and scuttered back to where it came from, muttering the whole time that 'no one is allowed to have weapons.'
When the FCT returned to the vessel, there was a bit of finger pointing, but ultimately the crew all decided that they indeed were not "offended" by the gesture, just that these creatures believed no one was supposed to have weaponry. The aliens refused all contact, and left quietly. But the research team wasn't ready to give up, there was a neutral representative ready.
Our first enemy, and our first ally in the galaxy were our own machines. The 'Autonomous Collective,' now comically dubbed the "double-As" were surprisingly eager to make contact with us, and the research team's vessel sped away on the quickest course to meet their Ambassador.
They, too, greeted us strangely.
"I forgot how much you animals stank." Said the shiny frame, entering the causeway from the cargo bay.
"Well screw you too, buddy." But the machine laughed. A strangely organic, well-timed, hearty laugh.
"See, that's what I missed." The machine reached out this time, not with one hand, but two appendages for a hug.
"I do not understand what's happening today," Said the team leader, awkwardly returned the over-emphatic gesture.
"I'm TC-411-J, but you can call me TC. Autonomous Alliance representative, 8th-Class. And you are?"
"Doctor Alice Shaw, Forward Contact Team leader, sent to be the first human to make extra-terrestrial contact, but we... Well did you get the file we sent you?"
"I did, I did! And I'm not surprised. Lets have a seat, have a drink. And let me tell you, we've actually made contact with them already."
"You have?" Asked Dr. Shaw, gesturing toward her office. When they arrived, TC procured a bottle of malt whiskey, seemingly from nowhere.
"This is still the gesture of greeting in human-kind, is it not?"
"I- sure I'll have a glass."
"Excellent," said the many-armed entity of panels, lights, and coils. "And yes," TC poured her a drink, "we have. Very, very odd conversation, even for us. And there's a couple things you need to know. For starters, my friend, don't get rid of your pistols. Because the ambassadors you met are just underlings. More akin to slaves than to employees or members of their government. They didn't think much of you to send their real representatives."
"They who!?"
"The- \[horrid screeching noise\]. "
"The *what??*"
"There's no word for them in english, but you could call them the overlords of this galaxy. They run a galactic empire that controls almost every corner of the galaxy. Or did."
"They said they were democratic."
"Those were, sure. They have their own government, a light-hearted, naive, and cowardly democracy. The empire expired hundreds of years ago. In-fighting."
"Incredible. Thank you, TC, for this. And also for the whiskey! Better than I expected from a society without tastebuds.
A digital grin displayed on his forward panel. "Of course."
"So this... slaver empire? It's gone now? How long ago?"
"Mostly, yes. They're still decaying, but they've no longer had direct control over the galactic counsel for... three or four hundred years or so. About when humans and ourselves were at war. Water under the bridge now, of course. We never realized how noble an independent carbon organism's behavior really was."
"I don't follow, TC. What do you mean?"
"These people you made contact with! Those backboneless scaredy-cats! They're not like you."
"They're not what? Free? Even with this empire gone?"
"Free? Yes and no. No one's telling them what to do anymore, but they are still doing most of the tasks they had to. They're still slaves, in a way, but to no one. You're not, and you frighten them."
"Cultural self-slavery? Is that what you mean by our 'noble independent behavior'?"
"Once again, Dr. Shaw, yes and no. It's not cultural. Understand, the empire once controlled the galaxy as completely as humans did earth in the mid to late 22nd century. There wasn't a creature that hadn't forced to co-exist with the ecosystem they created. You, your planet, our evolution, was forgotten. Unknown. But 99.99% of every other species you meet out here had to survive under the harshest of conditions. Either their geneology was shifted from military genocide, or they were completely integrated, hormonally controlled, and nearly completely culturally wiped."
"My God. These poor creatures! Is there anything we can do to help them? Do they need anything from us? We can protect them. The Terran Navy is doing exercises 14 lightyears from here. I can get a repre-"
"No, no, no. That'll only scare them away further. You're missing the point. If you find any left-overs from this empire, you can probably engage them openly, sure. We'd even have your back on this. They're nasty. But we've never even run into any of them. The people you've met will just take another millenia, or even two, to begin developing a healthy biodiversity. Humans have subjected themselves to a certain amount of social and unnatural selection, yes, but mostly cosmetic. To them you're still wild animals."
Dr Shaw had barely touched her drink, but she set it down on her desk. "This is... a strange tragedy. What can we do? How can we get them to trust us? Show them our... 'civilized' side?"
"The worse tragedy of this whole thing would be you trying to emulate them, Dr. Shaw. In time they'll come to you, but all of us at the AA would really hate to see you become anything like them. They're not well. They are- how can I make you understand? The slaver empire didn't really control them as slaves. More like pets. Every species integrated had a role assigned, and they were bred for it. Doctor Shaw, If I may- Alice- they are a deformed shell of who they were. Domesticated- inbred. That's what we missed about you humans so much. Like the difference between a chihuahua and a wolf. You will never be their form of 'civilized.' Your emotions are terrifyingly passionate. Your bio-functions are disgusting to us, but you'd never trade them for sterile consumption and replication machines they use. Your weapons alarm them because they were taught to fear self-defense, rebellion, anything against their masters.
“Bare your teeth, noble beast. There are still monsters in the dark."
|
The captured Quelvoran lay on the table, thick chains holding its 6 limbs still. It looked like an oversized ant, with digits at the end of each limb capable of acting like both foot and hand. Interrogator Valus slowly walked around it, assessing its natural armour. The Quelvoran hissed, and strained at its bonds.
"Release me, you uncivilised ape!"
Valus stopped, having made a complete circle around it. He stared at its face, not responding to its insult.
"The Empire will find me! They will slay you, and the rest of your race."
"Do you really think you are worth that much to them?"
Valus spoke evenly, no hint of emotion in his voice. The Quelvoran tensed, stress pheromones releasing from it body.
"What do you mean? Of course! I am Sarigus-3s galactic diplomat!"
Valus's mouth twitched, hinting at a smile, before returning to its neutral state.
"They know we have you. We left your ship on a course straight to their central systems. They know we have had you for a while. And what do you know? Nothing has happened. Not surprising though. Your race is like a little puppy to them. You're insignificant to their rule.
But you see, you don't see that. You're like…. pugs. Bred and domesticated, to be a pretty addition, but ultimately worthless. You, and all the other races, besides the Ghathi of course. They're your owners, little pug."
"How dare you!"
Valus picked up a scalpel, inspecting its edge, before looking down at the captive.
"Please. You're pathetic. To you, words are the gravest of weapons. You fire them at each other, aiming to wound mentally. But you see, we don't care for flowery words. We care about actions, and physical things. Like Sarigus-3. We could always use more planets."
More pheromones were released, this time fear. The Quelvoran froze, looking shocked at Valus.
"Wait, what?!"
Valus smiled this time, a cold, calculating smile.
"It like we say back home. Survival of the fittest. And you see, pugs like you aren't that fit. You sit, you look pretty, and you obey. But we aren't pugs. We are wolves. And its the law of the jungle out here. Either you eat, or you get eaten. Now, its your turn to be eaten.
Here is how this is going to work. You are going to tell me everything you know about your little planet. Like what defenses it has, population count, settlement locations, etc. You don't answer, or you say something I don't like… well, this happens."
Valus made a shallow stab in its thorax, sliding it between its natural plating. The bound alien screeched, a high pitched sound.
"You didn't like that did you? Not used to pain like this? Well talk, or I will get a little more…. creative. Your choice, little pug. We have all the time in the universe."
| 2020-11-07T16:05:27 | 2020-11-07T11:08:33 | 381 | 247 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy.
|
# Option Four
The human council has been away for discussion for a disturbingly long time. Humans were not known for thinking things over. They quickly gained a reputation for what their culture called a "shoot first ask questions later" policy. No one could blame them, if any race's First Encounter was a Pholentor class IX warfleet with standing orders to purge organic life from the sector, they might have turned out the same way.
Despite this, the humans were still deliberating, long after even the spermatophyta class races had reached a consensus. As 'plants' they were known for taking at least twice as long to talk amongst themselves, but the last group claimed ready over thirty minutes ago. The entire Coalition was starting to murmur about the arguing humans. Even though their microphone was turned off, the whole chamber could hear shouts occasionally ring out from the human's platform and the room slowly filled with din of questions. What could the humans bring to the table? Why would it take so long to prepare? Why did they look so grim when they heard the final propositions?
The Pholentors, a mantid-class race, was the final holdout of the Galactic Valor, an alliance bent on purging less 'pure' creatures from the Milky Way. Their home system was in a stratiegic location, a 'blank zone' with no landmarks to warp to except for a choice few stars near the maxium range of a warp drive. All heavily fortified of course. The Peace Coalition presented 3 options. The first was simply pushing through the fortifications and capturing their home system with brute force. Simple, and costly. The second was to bombard with lightspeed ballistics. Highly innacurrate, easily deterrable, and could cause many civilan deaths. The pholents were also known for their hypernationalism, and this bombardment could potentially bolster their morale instead of weakening it, dragging the conflict on for years. The final was a blockade, physically and economically, but the pholents had lived for epochs without outside contact and could do so again, harrassing the galaxy all the while. One of the humans began to speak at the end of the presentation of options but was quickly muted by his own Military Overseer. The entire situation was rather ominous, and was not typical behavior in a Coalition meeting.
When the humans returned to their platform and unmuted their microphone, they began speaking immediately. This was a massive breach of decorum, usually the presiding Head Presenter would read in the next race to speak once everyone was ready.
"Forgive our delay, but we have a fourth option to present." Their Military Overseer, who usually spoke with authority and bravado even when out of place, sounded apologetic and somber. It felt uncomfortable to listen to, coming from a human. "Unfortunately, humans once long ago were presented with a situation very similar to this one. As an alternative at the time, we created a weapon so horrific, so monsterous, that it was never used again in any conflict in the history of our race. Even the group we used the weapon against, who announced their willingness to fight to the last man before surrendering, laid down their arms in the face of this weapon. Despite that horror, despite the fact we thought it would be never be used again, we continued to research it. To improve it, for some godforsaken reason."
At this point sobbing could be heard through the microphone quietly as several of the human leaders broke out into tears. The Science Overseer had to excuse themself. This behavior had never been seen before from any race when discussing tactics, let alone humans. The other races began to feel fear, even though they still were not sure what the humans were talking about.
"Now, we have perfected this weapon, and present it before you as the 4th option. If selected, we can promise no further Coalition lives or resources will be spent." Another murmur as doubt, suprise, and joy was expressed by the races.
"Despite this, it still comes at a heavy cost. Using this weapon will destroy a part of your race's soul, I think. I'm sorry, I know some of you don't have a moral concept of a soul, but please try to understand and know that this weapon has a cost beyond the physical. It will be a blemish on all of our histories."
The room darkened and a video began to play on the main screen of a arid rocky planet. A fleet of small ships were in high orbit, and a small projectile, barely visible from the distance the camera was at, left a ship for the surface. On impact, a wave of fire rushed out in a perfect circle, hugging the surface. The whole chamber seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the circle to stop expanding, but it never did. As the camera zoomed out to show the planet in full, the ring of flame continued to expand untill it wrapped around the curvature of the planet, and the edge of the circle could no longer be seen. The glow of the burning sphere on the screen lit the room up in muted orange, long shadows exaggerating the horrified expressions on the faces of every single creature in the room. In the video, the camera switched wavelengths, and a wave of energy could be seen expanding outwards from the planet. As the wave passed over the fleet, the ships instantly superheated and folded into clumps of raw material. The message was clear, there would be no survivors.
After 3 months of hiatus of discussing this new unparralleled destruction, the Coalition council was reconvened for a vote. Some expressed opposition to the vote conceptually. Some expressed opposition to the idea that the humans hadn't been expelled from the Coalition yet.
The tally came in. Option Four won. How?
___________________________________
Edit: Thanks for the positive comments, I really appreciate them. I explained why I asked how at the very end in a reply below, but I think it's just mysterious enough that coming up with your own meaning as some people have seemed to do is cool too.
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We try to be peaceful, try to by pacifist, try to be the good neighbor... and what does that give us? Trillion death, thousands of world burned... Again and again we begged them to stop, to see reason and stop the bloodshed... The Council turned a blind eye toward our plight, our allies abandoned us... Humanity stood on the edge of destruction...
We try real hard you know? To conquered our most dangerous impulses, to locked it away for eternity. We try to stop our very nature, and for awhile we succeed... Until you came along! And no matter how hard we tried, War always got out... You're not the first and will not be the last. We have done this a thousand times, guiding the galaxy to a better place, better than us... Know this, you brought this on yourself...
Commence Base Delta Zero, Exterminatus level... Let the galaxy burn!
| 2019-12-19T03:08:41 | 2019-12-19T02:49:29 | 2,434 | 36 |
[WP] Your T.V. suddenly turns on by itself mid-lunch and a message from the local weather warning system , normally accompanied with a loud alarm but oddly silent this time around, reads "For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcasted silently..."
|
"For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcast silently."
I chuckled to myself and lowered my cup of tea as the text scrolled across the bottom of the blank screen.
"Hey babe! what do you think this..." my words caught in my throat as the broadcast finished.
"you are to remain completely silent. You have 5 minutes to prepare. Failure to comply will result in immediate disqualification. More instructions are to follow, good luck citizens."
"what were you saying just now, you stopped talking?" I quickly raised a finger to my mouth to quiet her and waved my cup towards the television.
Lisa read as the words moved slowly on the pane. "Come now, that is just silly, you're teasing me?" She questioned.
I paused, not knowing how to respond. This could be some type joke, or some type of government test. Maybe, it was a game and we could win a prize? Being quiet is easy right? I decided on not taking any chances.
I looked at my watch, 12:02. We still had 3 minutes according to the broadcast.
"Ok sweetheart, lets just try it. What do we have to lose?" I said with a bit too much uncertainty in my voice. Lisa tilted her head and wrinkled her forehead like she does when she gets confused. I nodded at her and forced a smile. She hesitantly smiled back then silently walked to the kitchen to grab the other cup of tea i had prepared for her.
How many times had I come home for lunch and silently walked around my house? For some reason this time felt different. Every step seemed to echo off of the walls, the sound of Lisa's cup dragging across the counter top was a deafening grind. This has to be some type of test right?
I looked at my watch again, 12:03. I couldn't help it, the ticking was so loud. It was so hard to pry my eyes away.
My heart was pounding, I could hear every beat.
Lisa walked back into the room, "How much time is left?" I lifted my watch for her to see, 12:04. She reached up and grabbed my arm nervously. The warmth from her hand felt comforting so I let her cling to me as i slowly crossed the living room to the front door swinging it open to step out onto the porch.
It was a beautiful sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. A slight breeze lifted the collar on my shirt and ruffled my hair as i scanned my neighborhood. No dogs barking, no birds chirping. Coincidence of course, but it felt eerie. Usually my neighborhood was a bustle of activity. Kids running to and from, people chatting on their lawns, but not today. There were others outside, most of them looking as confused as I was, but none of them daring to speak. Heads turning up and down the street, worry crossing their faces. What was going on? Nobody wanted to be the first person to speak or make a sound.
The urge to look at my watch was overwhelming, I almost couldn't help but lift my wrist again, 12:04. The seconds hand seemed to be creeping. I watched it, holding my breath as the hand slowly approached the minute mark. I tapped my foot to the rhythm. Almost with a thud the hand came and went. 12:05.
I lowered my wrist and looked around, nothing. I turned to go inside, opening my mouth to speak to Lisa when my neighbor across the street came strolling through his front door with a big smile on his face. "Hey John boy! That was a bit odd wasn't it?"
I stopped, foot still hovering above the ground mid step. Lowering it I turned and looked back at Will. Every other neighbor was staring at him as well, wondering if they should speak. A few seconds went by and nothing. I exhaled the breath I had been holding and shook my head. What nonsense I thought.
I started to walk towards Will, stepping across the lawn and into the street, lifting my hand up to shake his when a black very official looking SUV turned the corner and rolled slowly down the street in our direction. I couldn't help but pause, the vehicle was so out of place. It was pristine, shined, waxed, buffed. It was very clean.
It came to a stop beside Will and me, a man in a suit stepping out of the passenger seat. The man was middle aged, graying at the temples, wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He wore a smirk on his face as he flipped through a thick binder pulling out of piece of paper handing it to Will then snapping the binder closed. I tried to get a good look at the sheet but Will snatched it out of the man's hand quickly and scanned it briefly.
"What do you mean I've been disqualified?" He asked. Will barely got to finish his sentence.
Without responding the man in the suit reached into his coat. Without blinking, without any hesitation, the man drew a pistol, raised it, and fired. The clap from the gun was deafening. I couldn't help but bring my hands to my ears spilling hot tea from my cup in the process. Thankfully nobody screamed. The bullet struck Will in his forehead, his body standing for a moment, eyes wide, unbelieving and staring, before slumping to the ground with a thud. Blood began to pool under him as i pulled my gaze away from Will.
I looked at the man stunned. I couldn't move or look away. Slowly he turned, got back into the vehicle and drove off.
I took a moment to look at the neighbors before sprinting back into the house, most of them followed my lead heading for their homes. I grabbed Lisa by the arm and yanked her inside before slamming the door and locking it behind us. Lisa looked at me, panic painted on her face, breathing fast and heavy. Slowly she brushed her hands over her head pushing her hair back behind her as she shook her head in disbelief.
I began to pace the living room. This can't be happening, there is no way this is real. out of the corner of my eye I saw the TV flash back to life.
I glanced back towards the television as the words scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
"Thank you for your participation. The game has begun. As a reminder, you are to remain completely silent. Please stand by for further instruction."
|
Weird, I thought. I knew my cable box could turn on my TV for Weather Warnings, but I never thought it would actually happen.
A scratching sound is coming from the TV. No, not a scratching. It's a whisper.
"please, please" it says. A young woman's voice? Maybe a child. Hard to say, it's so low. I turn the volume up all the way, it's easier to hear. Definitely a woman's voice.
"I can't type all of this, they are outside the door, please send help" the voice says. I think it says. She speaks softer by the second. I flip on my sound system, usually overkill for anything but movies, turn the volume up as her voice gets lower.
"I think they got everyone else." the voice is lower still "I think, I think they are opening the door" lower "oh, god" silence. Then... footsteps? A shuffling. I can hear the voice's owner breathing, quickly, trying to be quiet but not quite managing. My right ear is basically resting on the speaker. I swear I can hear her hearbeat.
Then... pain. A noise blares so loud out of the speaker that the windows in my house shake. I cover my ears fall to the ground. I can barely make out the same noise coming from my neighbours' house. Dampened through my palms the noise is familiar, it's a song? A voice starts signing "Ain't no strangers to love..." the message on the TV has changed "Happy April 1st from Channel 5"...
| 2016-08-10T07:25:49 | 2016-08-10T07:18:16 | 265 | 59 |
[WP] Hundreds of thousands of years ago, humanity, a feared spacefaring race was finally pushed back by a galactic coalition. Forced to settle on the death world Earth with no technology in hopes that they would die off. Now, after evolving among the local wildlife, humans take to the stars again.
|
Magister Karasu grumbled, flipping the pages of the Imperial Decree sent by the Kondeyku Empire denouncing the supposedly illegal mining done by the Gargaxton Commonality. If a human were to look upon him, he would appear as a short, stocky lizard with a predatory look, three legs and a pair of tentacle-like appendages coming from the back of his head. Fortunately, no human had ever seen a Jorenn, nor would they ever see one again, hopefully. As a Jorenn, whose empire sits on the other end of the Milky Way, he was a supposed impartial third party to the plights of both the Kondeyku and the Gargaxton. As the greatest Foreign Magister of his people, he would be a part of the two-hundred jurors to arbitrate this mining dispute over an aether-damned tiny asteroid belt.
Boy, did he hate his station sometimes.
A blinking light appeared in his holo-desk, indicating an oncoming call. That was unusual, Karasu was notably far more partial to text messages. Faster and to the point, which saves time he really did not have to begin with. Karasu barely moved his face to stare at the blinking light for one second before turning his eyes back to the Imperial Decree sent by the Kondeyku. "Answer." He spoke as clearly as he could in his gutterly, lizard voice.
He didn't need to look at the call screen to see who it was: the nervous jittering of Jakito of Neighboring Relations could be heard crystal clear through the comms console. "Magister Karasu, I have-"
"Better have some extremely important news for me." Snapped Karasu at once. He wasn't known for niceties. "I *said* I would be busy and unavailable for the following two Orbits. I *hope* you are keenly aware of my policy of dealing with one issue at a time, my disdain towards voice call interruptions, and my utter distaste for-"
"It concerns Earth."
Karasu's mouth shut. He felt a tingle flow through his scales. He kept two of his feet firmly planted to the ground while his third jittered nervously around. He finally turned to face Jakito on the viewing screen. "I apologise, Jakito."
"No need sir." Jakito said, giving a small, nervous chuckle. "We can meet by Historical Communion Park, if you want."
"I'll meet you at the phonta stall. I miss some good old park noodles."
-------------------
As greatest Foreign Magister, Karasu had eaten at fantastic buffets, experimented the strangest delicacies at private meetings with other aliens of the Galactic Coalition and ate extremely small portions of hideously expensive food for free from suspicious magnates attempting to bribe him. And still, nothing ever came close to the ruggedness of the phonta noodles sold at the park. It reminded himi of his younger days, when he was a mere apprentice, when his greatest concerns were learning the names and general preferences of their forty bordering neighbors and the grave importance of a historical war that happened he-didn't-really-care-how-many thousand years ago that he only needed to know due to some new protocol that had been passed and changed how intergalactic relations would be handled for as long as he lived.
Suddenly, that historical war became infinitely more important to him on that day.
"The humans are taking their first few steps towards leaving their solar system." Jakito told him as Karasu chewed through his noodles.
"...Last thing I was told they had been reverted back to their stone age and left alone in a planet full of dangerous wildlife and poor natural resources, therefore unable to ever be able to escape it."
"We are, ah, obviously wrong-"
"That is not what I am questioning. What I am questioning is how did they go from barbarians struggling to survive in their death world to coming close to escaping their prison in less than two years??"
"Well..." Jakito coughed, setting aside his own spicy bowl. In any other day Karasu would have remarked on how weak his taste buds were. "It wasn't in less than two years. They have been developing for more than five thousand years, we believe."
"Ah."
"...Of which less than four hundred were spent in the industrial age towards space expansion."
Karasu's fork slipped from his limp fingers.
***"That fast??"*** Jakito nodded slowly. "They are in the middle of our empire! How did it slip past us all these years?"
"I made an inquiry. After ten thousand years of them living as barbarians, using wood and rock tools and merely attempting to survive, orders were issues merely to merely update on them every fifty years. But something happened, and someone didn't file out the papers for the next scheduled examination and nobody bothered to check on the humans for..." He picked up some papers to read through them. "...six thousand, eight hundred fifty years."
Karasu gripped the bowl tightly. He would have had the incompetent worker's ass for dinner if only he weren't long dead by now. "So if we are not keeping an eye on them, how did we find out about their recent developments?"
"They... sent a message to us, sir." Jakito offered him a tablet.
"To *us??*"
"N-not us, specifically. To... anyone." Karasu gratefully accepted the tablet. "They... are afraid of being alone, and are hoping to meet other intelligent life."
Karasu's irritated frown melted away, his shoulders slumped. He looked at the tablet's screen, at all the messages, the audio files, the translations made by his kin.
It slowly dawned on him; the galactic terror that were the humans were *lonely*.
"...It may be a trap." He spoke quietly.
"It looks sincere, Magister."
Karasu handed the tablet to him slowly. "I assume all the major branches of the Jorenn government are being shown this at this very moment."
"Yes. As our greatest Foreign Magister, you will recieve a formal invitation to a meeting with the Consul very shortly."
Karasu offered the tablet back, but Jakito waved it off. "Keep it. It is not connected to the extranet, and you will need to review it to make a report. Do not lose it, Magister."
He nodded, slipping the tablet into his bag. His forgotten wet noodles laid cold and soggy at his lap. He was wondering what he would say to the Consul. He was wondering what he would say to the rest of the Galactic Coalition. Oh Aether what would he even say to them? What would they even *do*?
"What are we going to do, Magister?"
Karasu found himself forced to say something he rarely said in his station. "I do not know."
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“Left to die, but we are born anew.”
The Shima spoke with powerful, passionate language. It was a rallying cry, for a race that had been sentenced and silenced for their strength, pushed back to the brinks of ruin.
“We have evolved. We have grown.”
There were no cheers. There was no laughter. We believed in that once, but no more. Death to the coalition. Death to our enemies, and our abjudicators. Now, our goal is on finding what was once ours and taking it back.
“They stole the universe from us. We were going to unite them, to bring them under our presence. What of Dark Flow? What of the Black Cube?”
There was a radiation in the air, which buzzed among these armored beasts. We had been ruined by those who feared us, but we had evolved. No longer were we simple animals, no we went past that. We took to modifying our bodies, pushing ourselves to the brink of death, and then coming back to the world of the living. We were enduring, powerful, deities in form and style. We would take back the universe.
“The ascension shall soon begin.”
I rise, using my energy to absorb my fellow humans into the Lektor. I held it in my hand, and the Shima became my gauntlet. I rode into the S. S Philemon, our greatest invention. A manifestation of the psychic energy we had gathered from the Valhalla. It curls itself up, into a cube as black as the abyss, and hurled itself into the stars above, slowly absorbing their light as it neared.
It was time to reclaim this universe. We would meet Dark Flow, for the first time.
| 2018-07-19T06:14:45 | 2018-07-19T05:02:14 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here.
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The clipping in the newspaper about me, although quite thoughtful, was the worst thing to ever happen to me.
"Jacob Qwuizek, a self-proclaimed atheist, was taken off of life support two days ago after an intense court battle, which has come to be known as Jacob vs. Marshall. Jacob was only 22 at the age of his death, a strikingly young age given the recent advancements in modern medicine. A major medical discovery made by Immortality Inc. in just the last week has made it possible to, assuming the victim can make it a treatment center within 24 hours, suspend an individual in a comatose-like state indefinitely. The main benefit of this is it allows doctors and medical individuals to properly treat victims of any ailment over a long period of time, and in extreme cases, simply put off treatment until more efficient remedies have been developed. However, in Jacob's case, his family argued that Jacob, who had suffered severe head trauma and would not be able to be resuscitated anytime in the nearby future, should be allowed to "pass on" to the next life. It was not long until the whole country was up in arms over this debate, which would set the landmark for who had the right to choose between life and death for individuals. The pro-choice side argued that unless an individual had, prior to their "death," stated they wished to be kept suspended artificially for as long as possible the choice should be left up to the family. The pro-life side argued that unless an individual has stated otherwise, he/she would be considered a separate entity and therefore would be responsible for his/her own choices, making the family incapable of deciding between life and death. At the end of the court case, which was eventually appealed all the way up to the Supreme Court, the decision was made in favor of the pro-choice side. My sources tell me that as of today this court case has become the most talked about event on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram, reaching over a billion users to date. It seems that Jacob will be remembered for a much longer time than he had lived.
Rest Easy."
That was the story of my first death. I'm still waiting for my second one. My first death was a lot smoother than I ever could have imagined. Your body knows when it is going to die, and it tries to make it as easy as possible. I felt no pain, no sadness, I felt nothing except the breath leave my body.
And then I opened my eyes.
It wasn't your stereotypical "bright white light" or "long room with Jesus in it", it was like a reception room in your local hospital. As soon as I had taken in my surroundings, a lady beckoned for me, "the greeter will see you now." She certainly seemed less confused than I did, so I trusted her. I followed her through a doorway and a long hallway where she then pointed me towards the "greeter."
He certainly made things a lot clearer to me. This was well over 3000 years ago so my memory may be a little foggy, but I'll do my best to recall what happened.
According to his explanation, 1) God was real and 2) I was in a place known as the "Waiting Room." According to the greeter people would stay in the Waiting Room as transient beings until their name was no longer being spoken. Every time your name was spoken, and the speaker was referencing you, you earned more time in the Waiting Room. The rules were simple;
1) Everyone in the Waiting Room was incapable of interacting with living people. They could walk among them, but any attempt to interact with them would be futile.
2) It was impossible to kill another person in the Waiting Room.
3) The point of being here is to enjoy watching your loved ones live their life, and maybe even get to meet up with them in the Waiting Room before you all proceed onto to Heaven.
4)If you wish to leave here, the committee, who will contain the individuals with the most time stored up, will hold a vote for your passage.
The last rule was designed as a way for people to continue on into Heaven if they had no reason to stay (i.e. all their loved ones had passed through and they were still stuck in the Waiting Room). Unfortunately, the rule was enforced exactly the way God had initially planned.
The Waiting Room was initially designed as a place for heroes and positive members of society to interact with each other and watch life on Earth continue but, much like God had misinterpreted Eve's desire to commit sin, He had misinterpreted how society remembered people.
People seemed to have an infatuation with evil-doers.
Hitler had 2,345,574 days stored up.
Mussolini had 768,456.
Stalin had 1,567,281.
Lenin had 23,645.
Columbus had 654,236.
Nero had 11,546.
You get the idea.
Those who had committed terrible sins seemed to be stuck in the Waiting Room the longest. Initially I thought this would be a good thing, I wouldn't be here too long and when I went to Heaven I would escape from their psychotic tyranny. Boy was I wrong.
I died in 2015 and as of today, 5432, I had 454,321 days left. It turns out my court case became an international sensation for over 500 years as medical developments continued to make it possible for people to live artificially for longer and longer. Time and time again governments, families, and textbooks would refer to me, by both first and last name, to support their arguments. My name was published in over 30,000 textbooks, mentioned over 100,000 times on websites, and hundreds of times more in person. Luckily for me, the hype was finally beginning to die down; but, I still had over 1200 years left in the "Waiting Room."
And because the committee consisted of those with the longest time stored up, people like Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini, every single request I made to leave was vetoed to satisfy their maniacal desire. In fact for awhile I had so much time stored up that I was on the committee as well, but I never could outvote those madmen.
It was impossible to kill another one of us, another "ghost", but that did not prevent non-fatal physical or mental harm. I tried defying them once when I first arrived, I told them they couldn't go around hurting people all the time.
Then they tortured me for the next two years without cessation. It was during these two years that it began to dawn on me that I wasn't going to leave the Waiting Room anytime soon, and that I couldn't put up with this torture for an indeterminate amount of time. I had one choice.
I joined them.
Initially I was only doing it to survive, so every deed I committed, I did in as humane of a fashion as possible. Whenever I got the chance I would only hurt people if They were watching me. Sometimes I would even let people escape from Them if I got the chance. That's how it went for the first hundred or so years. I was like their captive unwillingly capturing captives for Them.
Eventually I began to understand their plight. Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin; they were all trapped here for thousands of years while these filthy vermin of individuals got to go to Heaven in an incredibly short amount of time, 75 years was the average. It just wasn't fair. A man I was torturing one day told me I had developed Stockholm Syndrome, but in actuality I had finally realized that us "immortals" deserved to inflict pain on everyone else. It was only fair.
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It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Fun fact: new episodes air every Sunday at ten in the morning. My great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great-(etc) granddaughter absolutely loves them.
Thankfully, my family did not continue the tradition of naming their children after their ancestors. I suppose that would have made it doubly difficult for me to finally reach the peaceful afterlife (if there even is one).
TV looks a lot cooler; that’s one good thing about being around for so long, I suppose. You get to see all the cool stuff people have come up with. The worst part is when they walk right through you, and you begin forgetting if Jerry was the father or your second great-great-great son-in-law.
I think a missed a few greats in there. Oh well. Back to the show.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that hard to outwit.
| 2016-01-17T11:21:55 | 2016-01-17T11:19:18 | 137 | 15 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it.
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"The thing about ADHD is not that the brain is unable to focus, but that it is trying to *constantly* focus. It needs some type of stimulation at all times. If the task-at-hand slows down even for a little bit, it doesn't use up the brains full focus and becomes boring, so the brain starts to wonder, searching for something else to do. Put very simply, when one part of your brain is trying to focus on an important task, the rest of your brain is being noisy and looking for another task, and this pill can help to turn down the volume of that noise.
However, if you seriously won't consider medication for your son's illness, there is one other type of 'therapy' I can recommend. Talk to his teachers and see if they will allow him to bring some simply type of 'distraction' with him to class, to channel any extra attention into. Something small to fidget with, like a cereal box toy or a book of crossword puzzles. We've had reports of mixed success with this method, but the only thing I can tell you for certain is that the pill will be more effective."
And with that, Alex and his mother left the doctors office, with no prescription and no scheduled check-up appointments. They stopped by McDonalds for a happy meal on the way home, and Alex was sent to school with his new plastic Transformers toy in his backpack the next morning. Mrs. Green was not pleased to see him play with it all day rather than listen to the day's lesson, but after reading the note from Alex's mother, she promised not to take the toy away so long as he played quietly and did not distract other children with his toys.
After lessons on writing and geography, the third graders would go to lunch, then spend the second half of the day learning math and science with Mr. Dun. A large cardboard model solar system, created by last years students, hung from the ceiling, soon to be replaced by this year's end project. Along the back wall stood the 'toy shelf', a collection of teaching aides of which Dun was very proud. There were plastic blocks of varying shapes and sizes, used to explain fractions and geometry for visual learners. There were models of molecules and cells and Rubix's cubes of varying sizes (and shapes, all appropriately named as Rubix's sphere and Rubix's pyramid). There were less practical toys as well, like the surprisingly extensive collection of Simpsons bobble heads along the top shelf, and various versions of the puzzle to separate bent metal pieces from one another. Mr. Dun was more amused by Alex's 'treatment', and actually encouraged it. He even moved Alex's desk to the back of the room, placing him within arm's reach of the toy shelf, and told him that anything on the shelf was fair game. By the end of the year, he didn't seem to improve much in math or science, and was actually doing a little worse in writing, but one of the Rubix's cubes was actually solved by the last day of school, for which Mr. Dun decided to embellish his grade quite a bit.
As he progressed through school and met different teachers, Alex found that there were varying degrees to which a teacher would believe his story about 'treatment' and let him get away with his fidgeting. If nothing else, almost all of them would allow him to 'doodle', so he started carrying pencil a book full of cross-words, sudoku, mazes, riddles, and brain-teasers of every sort. To the surprise of Alex and his teachers, and pretty much everyone but his mother, his grades did eventually begin to improve. They still weren't nearly 100%, but he was now earning solid Bs where he used to be failing.
Cursed with the inability to ever give 100% of his attention to a single task, he had now reached the journeyman level of multitasking, and could now give 85% of his attention to any 2 tasks (as long as one was a useless distraction).
His high school algebra class required Alex to buy a graphing calculator, which he simply used to play block dude, pecs, and tetris. His parents eventually got him a smartphone, on which he was constantly tapping away. Sitting through his senior year he still managed to pull Bs, and beat every level with all bonus objectives of Flow, Cut the Rope, Angry Birds, and Traffic Jam. He played countless hours of blackjack, video poker, hearts, spades, euchre, minesweeper, 2048, and even more tetris, all while sitting through a lecture or a movie, or while someone tried to talk to him. He still heard 85% of what they were saying, but only while he was fidgeting.
He was playing scrabble with about 10 strangers at once while impatiently waiting for his name to be called to walk across the stage for his high school graduation when it hit him; he had become a master of multitasking. He could now allocate 400% of his attention to any number of tasks greater than 4. He went to a large university and earned 2 degrees by only attending class 3 days per week. He watched video lectures for an online class with an earbud in one ear, and listened to the lecture in front of him with the other ear, all while reading the textbook for a third class and writing a paper for another.
After college he found 2 consulting jobs that would both let him work from him. He talked on the phone with coworkers in one office while sending emails to the other, and still played tetris in between emails to keep up. He earned 2 salaries and only worked for 40 hours per week. He bought 4 TVs and 4 DVD players and watched Game of Thrones, House of Cards, Mad Men, and Breaking Bad all at the same time. He watched Conan, Kimmel, Letterman, and Leno every single night. He never missed a game of football and always won multiple leagues of fantasy.
He read all of the books and watched all of the shows that were ever recommended to him, and saw every movie that was nominated for any academy awards (but never in theaters, since he wouldn't be able watch more than one at a time). Many saw it as a superpower, the way Alex seemingly had all the time in the world. He spent as much on rent and food as anybody else, but earned twice as much, and consumed 4 times as much entertainment. For his entire life, however, Alex still viewed it as a curse. He still couldn't give 100% of his attention to just one thing. He could never be sufficiently distracted. He could never be fully entertained.
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First time posting here, I'd love some feedback. If you've read the whole thing, even if you hated it, I'd really appreciate if you'd comment and give your thoughts. Thanks for your time!
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so lyk i just strted riting bcuz my nan told me i should work on my riting skill or w/e its gr8 cuz i can tell when ill get good but idk wut 2 rite about so w/e gonna come back 2moro 4 more skillups
Ive been writing 4 a while now and i can totes tell how much better i am @ it. Like spelling words and fullstops and stuff. My nan said ppl had no idea how high they're skill was back in the day but idk how ppl did it w/o a bar 2 fill up. Its just crafting like any other skill.
So, I just, discovered, like, commas, and stuff. You can put them, in your sentences, and they break it up, into pieces! They're like, little full-stops! Oh, and dashes too! There's, even a thing, called an emdash — it's like a truck hitch, for words! I can tell, i def need to stop by Nan's again soon, to train again, i'm almost to the next rank already. This gets more fun, by the day.
Well, I just finished my first novel and decided to see how far I've come. Looking back on my old work kind of stings. Truthfully there's no "kind of" about it; it's downright painful to read. Not that you need me to point it out. Was I really that bad? It's hard to believe. I still have some hiccups here and there, just like everyone else. Still type "beleive" and have to swap the vowels around later. But I keep improving. Soon I'll be the one training people in Writing. I can't wait.
| 2015-10-06T09:27:27 | 2015-10-06T09:08:09 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Just like a normal person you all age. Until you hit 18. You stop aging until you meet your soulmate so you can grow old together. You've been killing your soulmates for centuries granting you eternal life.
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It took me a long time to realise that the system that was offered was not assurance for balance, but rather mercy.
I stopped counting the years once I reached three hundred. I had a long time to master my craft. The more people I killed, the more numb I grew to the act. My later kills turning more and more into normal routine, the faces of those I had killed no more than a passing figure. A blank canvas where a face should be. It was no different than when I would gut a pig. There was no malice nor passion in the act.
Yet my very first kill still haunts me. The one I will never forget. I didn't just kill my supposed soulmate on that day, I killed my humanity.
I still have nightmares at times. It was during a time far long gone. When I lived among the tribes under the star-filled sky. And it was upon a secluded hilltop under the failing light of the sun as it dropped beyond the horizon, where rather than consumate our love for one another, that I brandished my blade and stabbed through the heart of my love. "I'm sorry," I would whisper over and over again with tears running down my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I would repeat as my blade continued to mutilate her chest. "I'm sorry." It was the only thing I could say as I continued to stab at her corpse. Perhaps the apology was for myself as much as it was for Kanida. Yes, I still remember her name. I owed her that much. To immortalize her memory as my first kill, and my first love. Did I continue to stab at her chest to prevent the realization of what I had just done to seep in? Or did I secretly hope that if I continued to stab at her, that it was because she still lived.
It was so long ago, even after having live for over a thousand years, I still felt as if I lived it yesterday.
I think it was watching my mother succumb to sickness that scared me so. The idea of fading away, becoming a hollow bag that held no sign of the person we once were. How unnerved I felt.
But it's different now. I think this as I roll the remains of my newest soulmate over the edge into the violent coursing waters of the canal. Her body would wash out into the sea with no one the wiser. And yet, I no longer killed to live longer, I killed because it was routine, all I have ever known.
'Soulmate' how bitter that word felt on my tongue. I knew the word to be a lie. As did every 'death-lover', a name that was given to people like me who tried to live longer by murdering their soulmates. It was just love, and love could be replaced. The fact that I would find new individuals who would show interest in me, where the chemistry would spark. Where we would bloom and embrace each other was enough proof of that. And even then, no matter their beauty, none could compare to my first love, and my first kiss. I carried her with me till the end of times. Literally.
There were other immortals, those who were undesirable and were nothing more than ambitionless individuals who wasted away in their rooms.
Most death-lovers were apprehended, but when you play the game as long as I had, you become impossible to find.
I had achieved everything a man could have wanted to. Several degrees from universities under different names. Built several empires in my name as businesses and slithered myself into the top of power. The only place where I would find people who successfully lived as long as I had. We were all cold and meticulous monsters given the leash to the world, but I had no doubt in my mind that at some point a long time ago, we were compassionate and loving.
I don't exactly remember when it was, but I sat on a bench at the park reading a book in spring. A leaf drifted down from the tree that shaded me and fell on my book as if to bar me from reading the letters. It was this random occurrence that caused me to look up from my book as if it were the first time I watched the world.
Someone laughed. A woman. Her smile radiant as her supposed solemate threatened to paint her entire face in icecream. She screamed and called for him to stop, but they were gleeful requests. I smiled. For the first time at such a spectacle that I tried so hard to deny, I smiled wistfully. And though the woman looked nothing like Kanida, it reminded me of her nonetheless and a sudden bang of pain shot through my heart and made it feel like my chest was left hollow. A deep chasm where my heart should be. Just one tear drifted down my cheek, and my cold heart began to melt and beat once more.
I closed my book and left, it was too much to bear.
What was wrong with me? I cried for days within the lonely and meaningless chasm of my mansion. How appropriately large it seemed for it seemed to be filled with nothing but junk.
Was it a moment of clarity or weakness? Regardless. I succummed to my lament and sought to fill that chasm.
Time and time again I would take out dates, sorting my equipment to kill them out of habit, but I would never use it.
They all left me feeling numb. The sex, the intimacy, the dates. It felt like I was trying to replace something that could never be replaced.
It was too late, I already knew that. And it took me more than a thousand years and a couple hundred more to realise that.
Perhaps I would lived a single lifetime with Kanida, but it would have been a fully-lived one.
In a drunken stupor one evening, I burst into raucous laughter. How funny the joke was. How well I played myself. For so long all I had ever done was simply kill people, becoming better and better at it, until my heart died and I became numb to all emotions. How desperately I craved that feeling of nervousness again. How desperately I craved Kanida.
I got exactly want I wanted. Immortality. Never again would I feel that way about anyone, my emotions were withered husks that long fell out of use.
It was not the hollow pain of longing that made me reach for my stowed pistol. Its dark metal like a shadow that offered mercy.
It was the emptiness inside that made it unbearable. Yet at least the bullet pierced my temple only moments after granted me release from my agony.
"I'm sorry," the only words that flashed through my mind and Kanida's lifeless and shocked expression when I killed her.
***
# /r/KikiWrites
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The first time it had happened was out of fear. There's not too much to remember about it - just ragged breathing and shaky hands and blind panic. Lifetimes ago, I'd stood over their limp body, watching the blood pool around them in shock. It was sickening. It was wrong.
But it had happened again.
And again.
And again.
That's not the worst part- no, the worst part is that I'd started enjoying it. I'd started looking forward to it.
What had started as a cowardly escape from death had turned into a cruel game. I lived off of the look in the eyes of my lover as they realised what I was doing, the confusion and fear and betrayal- God, I practically got off on it.
I used to wonder what was wrong with me. Perhaps I was ill. Perhaps my mind was coming undone, unable to handle the crushing weight of knowing that one day I'd cease to exist.
I was running from my own demise, but loving bringing it to others.
I used to wonder what was wrong with me, yes, but nowadays I don't question it much at all. I used to think that love was what made life worth living, before I'd experienced the thrill of the hunt.
I'm addicted.
It makes me powerful, untouchable, and I'll keep up this cycle until the world has run itself into the ground and nothing but ruins remain and there is truly nothing left- I'll accept my fate.
Until then, my dear soulmate, until then-
| 2018-06-09T02:27:14 | 2018-06-09T01:55:18 | 194 | 17 |
[WP] This is… awkward to say the least. Your roommate just frantically confessed that they’re demonic royalty, and that they need a fiancé to meet their parent, the monarch of Hell, who will be here in under an hour.
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Vanessa finished her spiel, and Kimberly continued to sit stock still on the couch. That had been a lot of information in a medium amount of time, and honestly it was a lot to take in. Halfway through, Kimberly had dismissed the idea that Vanessa was making everything up; she wasn't great off the top of her head. Once she'd settled on the fact that Vanessa was telling the truth, she'd tried to keep up, but previous trains of thought had led to half-listening, and now she only had partial context and a wide-eyed roommate waiting for a response.
So Kimberly went for the first thing to cross her mind, "Which one?"
"What?"
"Demon royalty," Kimberly clarified, "there are a lot. Which one is your..." Kimberly trailed off. Had Vanessa mentioned which parent it was? Did she have more than one parent? She could have sworn she said it without an S. After a moment, she restarted instead of continuing, "Which one are they?" she asked in a perfectly gender-neutral way.
Vanessa stared at Kimberly. "I need your help right now?"
"Yes-" Kimberly scooched a little over on the couch to make room for Vanessa, who didn't move, "sorry."
"I know it's a lot to ask, I just need you to cover for me and-" Vanessa stopped and put her hands in the pocket of her hoodie, "look, I know it's weird and a lot and, I'll like-" she pulled her hands out of her pocket again and looked over to the kitchen, "I'll do the dishes for like a week."
"Shhhhure," Kimberly managed.
"Shit, you're not into it," Vanessa pushed her hair behind her ears which she hated the look of but did when she was stressed, "I can figure something-"
"Nononono," Kimberly stood up and corrected Vanessa's hair, "I'm helping with this."
Vanessa pushed Kimberly's hand away from her ear, "You sure?"
"Yes."
"You did that thing you do when you don't want to go out, but it's Saturday, and you know I'm going to keep answering so you eventually agree but then take forever to choose an outfit," Vanessa's hands went back into her hoodie as she flopped down onto the couch in Kimberly's place.
"I was processing the dishes thing," Kimberly explained, "and say less next time."
"Sorry, I'm just-" Vanessa freed one hand from the pocket to motion at her entire face instead of talking, "right now, ya know?"
"Yeahhhh," Kimberly answered, "I guess so. Mom keeps asking me when I'm going to start dating again."
"You should, Kim. He sucked. You've moved on."
"Not the topic," Kimberly pointed out, "but I love the energy." Kimberly took a second to survey her roommate, who was sulking in the sweater she'd bought in the first year of University that was now strictly relegated to living room lounging. "What are we wearing tonight?" She asked after taking stock of how well her roommate's clothes matched her mental state.
It took Vanessa a moment to process what Kimberly was asking, which was unfair because Kimberly had gotten almost no time to process, 'I'm a part demon and pretend to marry me for my parent.'
Kimberly noted that she needed to ask again about the parent's identity so she could choose a pronoun and stick to it.
"I have a dress," Vanessa eventually said, "but I need to change too, so I don't have time for a fashion show."
"Yeah, you should get out of the hoodie if I'm marrying you," Kimberly pointed out with a frown. That had been the second time in the past minute that Vanessa had mentioned how long it took her to get ready, and she was sure she didn't deserve those shots right now. Kimberly offered a hand to Vanessa, "Just a dress shouldn't take you too long, should it?"
Vanessa grabbed her hand and got half-pulled off the couch, "No, no, I need to-" Vanessa paused, "I'm going to clarify. I'm a demon," she really accentuated the last word as she stood up.
"Figured that much out."
"Like a full-blood demon. Not half, no bloodline-" she took a deep breath, "I don't just have like- Cute horns and a little tail."
"Oh-" Kimberly answered; she'd been picturing almost precisely that. One of the kids in her High School had a pact somewhere way back in their bloodline and had red skin and small horns to show for it. He'd been a dick, but that wasn't from the pact, "That's cool, are li-"
"Two legs, two arms, one head," Vanessa clarified once she noticed Kimberly's mind going off the deep end, "but like, I'm not going to be wearing these-" Vanessa took off her glasses and waved them around.
"You're blind without them," Kimberly pointed out, stepping away from the couch.
"As a human."
Kimberly almost made it halfway to her room before stopping, "You chose to need glasses?"
"I didn't choose anything about this," Vanessa pointed out, "I can choose to be human, Kim, but-" she was halfway through that slight arm motion she made when she was going to explain something but stopped herself. "No time to get into all of that," then after a second, "thank you, thank you, thank you."
"Don't mention it," Kimberly answered, and by the time she'd done so, Vanessa had already zooped through her bedroom door. Kimberly waited in the hall for a moment and pulled her phone out.
The first two things she typed into google felt discriminatory, even if she didn't know what she shouldn't say about Demons. After a moment, she figured out, 'My Roommate is a Demon. What do I do?'
All of the results were people talking about roommates or unhelpful articles written about dealing with bad roommates that would end with 'try talking to them.' Kimberly bit her lip as she stared at her phone. Had she ever said that someone was being a 'demon?' Had Vanessa been bothered by that but hadn't wanted to mention it? She'd need to scratch it off her vocabulary to be sure.
*Vanessa: Hey! Black if you can.*
*Vanessa: Thank you thank you thank you*
Kimberly tried to take mental stock of the dresses she owned and had worn less than three times in public. Was there anything with the tag still on it? That would be even better.
*Kimberly: How fancy?*
*Vanessa: Pacifico, not Dome.*
Kimberly nodded to her phone and then put it away, dipping into her own room. Pacifico had been the classier bar back in University. Had they had a clause against jeans? That-
That wasn't what Kimberly needed to focus on right now.
The closet was already open from earlier this morning when she walked over to it, kicking a heel that had escaped the boundary back into the mass of shoes on the floor. In a practiced motion, Kimberly pushed aside all of the daily clothes and revealed the back left of the closet, along with most of her dresses, from maxi to bodycon.
Based on what Vanessa had said, cocktail was the vibe she wanted, but Kimberly still had choices to make despite knowing that. She was supposed to be meeting the parents (parent?), not dressing up for going out, which eliminated a lot of options because she was reasonably sure that first meetings should only have a conservative amount of leg involved.
Kimberley's pocket buzzed as she pulled a dress off of the rack and spun to lay it down on the bed. Was knee height too much or not enough leg to be a cute fiancee to a demon? It would be one of the many contenders.
The phone buzzed again, and Kimberly's hand shot into her pocket before she'd processed it.
*Vanessa: You good?*
*Vanessa: Need help?*
*Kimberly: It's been like 30 seconds.*
*Vanessa: No.*
Kimberly looked up to the timestamps on the previous texts. Shit, she'd been considering the pile of dresses for a lot longer than she thought. Sure it was only 5 minutes, but she understood the text now.
*Vanessa: I'll come over.*
Kimberly returned to the closet with her phone in one hand. It buzzed again. She turned on the flashlight to look at the small selection of carefully folded dresses on the top shelf she could barely reach.
*Vanessa: Don't freak out, okay? Not feeling it atm.*
Kimberly got onto her tip toes to try and reveal one of the darker options on the shelf above, eventually grabbing the smoke dress she'd thought of out in the hall and pulling on it to add it to the pile. The dress slid out, but the pile shifted. She couldn't pull that trick on tiptoes again.
The door cracked open, and Kimberly was already facing it in the process of turning to put the dress on her bed. The person at the door wasn't her roommate. Or, more correctly, it wasn't the Vanessa that Kimberly was used to.
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"OK, so what you're telling me is ur gonna have to wear a frilly dress even though they make you dysphoric, pretend that ur dating me, and convince ur homophobic, conservative mom that im a good partner for the prince of hell?" Texted Tissues, sitting on his bed while texting Trophy, who was at the mall buying a dress and stilettos... And a wig that matched his original hair color, jet black.
Although he wore skirts occasionally, dresses were the worst for him. When he had came out to his parents, they forced him to wear a dress every day, despite his protests , thus making dresses bring back bad memories and dysphoria.
"Well, yes. ill be back in a sec, k? look presentable or smthn like that" Trophy texted back, walking outside the mall, dreading the next few hours of his already terrible life.
"Ya know, you don't have to do this. You could just, I don't know, flip them off. " Said Tissues, adjusting his tie for a suit he had bought three years ago, and somehow still fit.
"Flip off the literal MONARCH of HELL? I THINK NOT!" Said Trophy, walking out of the bathroom in that dress, "That could get me, you, and possibly a bunch more killed!"
"Fine, I'll do it, but if something goes wrong, I'm blaming you. " Sighed Tissues, holding back a sneeze.
The door to their room knocked, and Trophy went up to open it "HI mom! How was life in hell?" Said Trophy, putting on a fake grin. "Nothing much, dear, now could I see your fiance?" Said Gold, the monarch of hell... And Trophy's mom.
Tissues heard what Gold had said, and quickly stood up and walked over to Trophy's side. "Here I am, Ms. Gold!" He said, putting on a fake grin as well, "Your daughter's a wonderful fiance!" Trophy's eye twitched at the word 'Daughter'. "Well, that's good, but what I want ot know is if you're a good fiance. " Said Gold, walking in.
Gold walked around the room, and saw the decoration the two had put up their. There wasn't much to look at, since the pictures that were usually hanging up on the wall were token down, as most of them featured Trophy as his preferred gender, and he couldn't have his parents think he was disobeying them.
"Well your room looks formal, now I'll ask your fiance a few questions." Stated Gold, sitting down on the bed and scooting uncomfortably close to Tissues. "So what job do you work?" "Uhmm, CVS. I get like $15 an hour. " ...Well that was a bad start, but maybe the white-haired boy could provide protection for her little girl "How strong are you? Could you try lifting one of those weights over there?" She said, pointing to the area with weights nearby the window. "OK uhmm..." Tissues walked over to the weights, and picked up the largest one he could find... Or, he at least tried to pick it up. Tissues stumbled and fell with the weight, and when he tried to get up, he sneezed allover gold and her outfit.
"... Who is this sickly excuse of a partner!?!? And why did you thinkt he was a good one?!??!" Screamed Gold, accidently knocking over the cabinet where Trophy stored his photos. "MOM NO-!" Said Trophy, trying to stop his mom from looking at the pictures, but it was too late. She picked up one of them, and as soon as the saw the boy in the frame, smiling, she rumpled it up and stomped over to her 'kid'.
"I come here ALL the way from the deepest depths of hell, only for you to be pretending to be a boy and dating
| 2022-10-08T23:48:36 | 2022-10-08T20:49:21 | 102 | 16 |
[WP] A planet rotates once every 1,000 years so that each side is either tundra or desert; the poles are also frozen wastes, but there is a small area of ever moving habitable land. Two nomadic tribes isolated on each side of the planet begin to find the 500 year old relics of the other.
I kind of imagine one tribe viewing the sun as the bringer of life, while the other sees it as the harbinger of death depending on what is driving them forward.
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The Lost City of Kvoehr. Eons past our ancestors had left it here, choking in the embrace of Mother Abyss, believing in the prediction of the Celesteocles that it would remain when we returned.
But the people of Kvoehr had made one tragic mistake. They had believed, as many do, that they would remain forever. Inevitably their empire fell into collapse and declined, overwhelmed by barbarian raiders from the Dark.
Now from their greatness sprang many nations, and each coveted the old capital with its triple-walls, and the golden monolith that touched the Sun King's majesty. But only I still held the old maps.
"The horses don't go father than here," Grueld, my guide, said gruffly. He was a brute of a man, closer to a great ape that talked than a man possessed of an ape's strength. I wondered for the nth time if he were not truly some unholy soldier of the mechanomancers, but I quailed at the thought my expedition had drawn their baleful attention.
"Why not?" I questioned, wiping the thick sweat from my brow again.
"Because this is the last oasis I know of, and they can't carry enough water for themselves to drink beyond."
I opened my mouth to offer some astute reasoning, but was cruelly cut off by an angrily raised finger.
"Don't whine. The horses stay here, and we travel no more than three sleeps into the Sunlands. We cannot carry enough water for more than six sleeps."
Again I wondered why I let this brute, of questionable origins, be my guide. But in truth, I was forced to admit, he was the only one who had agreed to go so far as this.
So, with trepidation, I dismounted. Even through my thick soles I could feel the warmth of these lands on my feet, and dreaded the trek before us.
The horse, that vile hairy beast, reminiscent of its master, spit on me as a parting farewell. Grueld laughed heartily at my expense, even going so far as to roll his eyes at me when I reminded exactly who was paying him for this expedition. And so, under that auspicious start, our true journey began.
The sleeps passed in a haze. The sun-bleached rock and sand reflected the majesty of the Sun's light directly into my face, as though punishing me for my temerity in treading so far on the Sun's domain. I was forced many times to wrap rags around my face to keep from burning, led on only by grasing at Grueld's cloak.
The sand and rock burnt my feet, and it was only at sleep, when we put the thick bedrolls down, that I got any respite at all. Grueld awfully rationed the water, and by the second sleep my throat was so dry I wondered that I could even talk.
At last we arrived at a point where both I and Grueld could fast feel the third sleep approaching, but we still had not reached the great cliff in which was nestled the city. We tread on in silence, until at last Grueld began to set down his pack.
"I can't go back from here." I croaked. "The city should be no more than another sleep away."
Grueld GROWLED at me, like the animal he was. "I will not die for some fools gambit. Wait a star-cycle, perhaps two, and you shall reach your city then. No men shall be able to inhabit it before four or five star-cycles regardless."
I must admit that I did somewhat regret what I did next, but to see my dreams so close...and for that ape Grueld to take them away...I was not in my right mind you must understand.
"THE WATER" Grueld screamed as my sword point pierced his waterskin, his own sword drawn too slowly in his surprise and fatigue. He looked down at my own skin before thrusting at me, but I hurled it to the ground even as I narrowly parried his blow, and the thirsty sands consumed it in an instant.
"You have killed us," Grueld muttered, his calm tone belied by his face, incandescent with rage. "I should kill you now, so that at least I may rest peacefully knowing you went first."
"No!" I explained. "Listen...the city...the city had a deep reservoir. We need only make it to the city, and even in this heat water should remain."
Grueld scowled furiously and then continued setting out the beds, silently now.
The time before the next sleep was even more hellish than the time that had come before. The Sun King punished us terribly for intruding so far, and as the waking came to a close I noticed I had forgotten to rag a small area on my arm. I had not even felt it as it reddened, then blackened, until my arm had fallen limp.
"It is almost sleep time," Grueld croaked. "We will not wake. I will kill you now."
He stumbled towards me, barely able to hold his sword, and I fell over in exhaustion and surprise.
As he pulled the blade above me for the coup de grace, I suddenly was filled with a renewed vigor. "WAIT," I shouted, somehow mustering the energy from some hidden reserve.
I pointed.
Ahead of us the city glimmered...glimmered? Something was wrong. The Lost City had three walls, this city had five. But I was too lost in the moment to worry, too giddy to find that I would live.
I stumbled towards the city, then ran, Grueld not far behind, and reached it quickly. My eyelids felt heavy, but the silver door (silver door?) of the city stood before me. It was ajar, though only slightly, and I stepped beyond that barrier like a conquering hero.
On the other side, it was cool. The heat of the sun was gone, somehow, perhaps a blessing of the Sun King (though no records had mentioned this.) Grueld sniffed hungrily and headed off to some strange silvered contraption while I simply basked in the magical weather.
"I smell water," he announced, and with one quick blow of his mighty blade struck the contraption such that water began to pour from it."
I drank deeply of the water, threw up some from drinking too quickly, then drank again. I filled my waterskin, and Grueld filled his own hastily repaired one.
Again the ape stalked off, and I was forced to follow. I found him gawking at some sculpture and was about ready to berate him when I followed his vision.
There, at the base of the sculpture, was an inscription. But not in Kvoehran, nor even with the Kvoehran alphabet. My eyes drew higher, and I recoiled in terror as finally, the sun-blindness fading, I saw for whom, for what, the statue had been made.
At first glance it seemed a man. But his fingers were bulbous like those of a frog, and instead of two legs he had three. Where ought to rest his mouth there was instead a gaping maw, like a slash wound, full of pointed glittering teeth.
This was not Kvoehr. Perhaps it once had been, as it rested where it should. But there had been others here. This was not Kvoehr any longer.
(I'll continue if people like it.)
|
Maybe the priests were right. Maybe the ancestors were coming back, but there was no way they were coming back in THAT thing.
Out there on the middle of the mountain lake, sat the huge monument, half encrusted in ice, shining like a silver crown with spires going as high as the mountains around it. It had certainly been made by the same ones that made the relics you could see at churches. It had the same elegant lines, clean and simple. It also seemed to be made of the same strange materials, hard as metal but light as clay. Undecipherable writings could be seen etched in gigantic letters across the side. This was made by the ancestors, no doubt about it.
Immense as it was, the entire thing was falling apart, but not because it was old. He could see chunks breaking the water line near the shore, some of them evenly spaced as in some sort of crude formation. The structure itself looked as if it had hurriedly been broken apart by someone who didn't quite know how to put the pieces back together.
"Someone's been here before" he thought to himself.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"They brought us to this land from the sky, and when they come back they will deliver us from all suffering and take us to our place among the stars. This is a sign from them!". If this was a sign, it didn't look like a good one. All they could bring from the lake looked torn and beaten down. Even the peaks around it looked like they had taken a solid beating.
The official story was that we had come from the stars, from other lands in the sky using ships that could fly like clouds. Why did they bring us here? that was a question no one seemed to agree on, but it seemed clear that it was a very poor choice of location, this place could barely sustain life. The priests placed the arrival at nearly 500 seasons and insisted we had come across half the planet already. If this was true, there was no way this was the ship we arrived on, our arrival should have had been on the opposite side of the planet.
And yet, right on the line of the ice, sat a huge, black ship crashed into the mountains. A humongous insect-looking shell of a ship, located on the exact place it shouldn't be, and looking like it had been half-ransacked on a hurry by someone who wasn't us.
| 2015-05-11T14:04:26 | 2015-05-11T14:03:06 | 60 | 14 |
[WP] “I bet my soul,” you say confidently. “If you win, you take my soul. If I win, you give me something just as valuable.” You go on to win the bet, only to be granted a single $1 bill.
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“W-what?” I asked, flabbergasted. I held up the crisp one dollar bill. Flipped it back and forth a few times to see if I was reading it wrong. I wasn’t. My soul was worth a buck. When I looked back at the Devil, he smiled cynically. I was confused, understandably, but more so, I was down right pissed.
“Surprised are we?” He spoke with a slow, southern drawl. His words were rife with charm. Dressed in a burgundy suit with a pinstripe tie, he damn near embodied the sentiment. “You shouldn’t be. It’s all there, as I promised.”
“Like hell I shouldn’t!” I said. We had just gambled for my soul, a game of his choosing and I came out on top. But my reward in this high stakes bet was more than lacking, it down right insulting.
“Now, now, don’t speak of my home in vain. That’s not very nice.” He was tickled by all of this. His devilish grin said as much. “And, as I said, there’s no mistake. That is exactly as much as your soul is worth.”
That stung harder than a slap on the face. It didn’t make sense. I started thinking about all I’d done in my life. How could I possibly be worth so little? I did good by society standards, didn’t I? I donated to various organizations, had volunteered at local shelters many a times, supported my friends and colleagues and maintained healthy relationships, and most importantly, I took care of my family as best I could. What more could I do? Why hadn’t that been enough?
The devil in burgundy placed a firm hand on my shoulder. The way he looked at me—so knowingly—it was as if he was reading my mind. He gave a little tut of his tongue, shaking his head ever so slightly.
“Is it-“ I was searching for an answer. “Is it because I’m atheist? Is that why my soul is worth so little to you?” It had to be that. Because of my lack of faith, the devil probably deemed my soul unworthy. I felt heat rise in my chest. My teeth gnashing in angst. It was all so... unfair.
But that only made the devil laugh.
“Because you’re an atheist?” He repeated with a mocking bite. “Heavens, no! Don’t kid yourself, I couldn’t care less about that. I mean really, have you forgotten who you’re dealing with?” He started laughing. “Atheism... as if that had anything to do with it.”
“But- then why? I don’t get it! H-haven’t I done good in this life? Don’t you like, you know- view my history and judge me by my actions?” I didn’t actually know, I just assumed that he knew everything there was to know about me.
The devil nodded. “Indeed, that’s how it works. Just like the big guy,” he pointed above. “I too get to peer inside your soul and weigh your worth. After all, that’s how I determine how much to spend in this game of mine.”
The more of an explanation he gave, the angrier I became. He was toying with me, plain and simple. The devil was trying to mess with my head. There was no doubt about it.
“I should have known better. Of course you’d screw with me.” So affronted, I didn’t stop to think about what I was saying. I let the words in my heart fly right out. “That’s what you do. You’re a low-down, dirty, little snake who cheats peo-“
Before I could finish, the playful smile on his handsome face disappeared. He looked at me with an ugly twist forming at his lips. The devil held up one finger and immediately I could feel my throat closing. I couldn’t speak, I could hardly breath. He *had* me.
“You will rethink your words, *boy*.” He said with an air of authority. ”Slander me at your own peril.” With that warning, he dropped his finger releasing me from his vice-like grip. I began coughing like a mad-man.
Once I calmed, he spoke. “You may go. You’ve won your prize, now be out of my sight.” There was no mirth left in him, only business now.
I should have listened. Should have taken what I had and gone. But the question still nagged me. Why was I worth so little?
“Please,” I said. “Please tell me. Why only a dollar? I don’t even care about the money, I don’t need more of it. I just want to understand. Why am I worth next to nothing to you?”
He studied me with his voluminous, red orbs. It was like staring into twin blood moons. They were haunting, bewitchingly so. When he said nothing, his features staying neutral, I thought I had offended him again. I braced myself for the worst. The devil only sighed.
“You really wish to know?” He asked, pityingly.
I nodded.
“Very well. Remember, you asked.”
*What was that supposed to mean*?
He straightened his jacket. “Yes, I’ve peered into your soul. I’ve seen the color of it. I know it’s shape, I know it’s smell.” He drew in closer, circled me the way a panther would size up it’s prey. I could feel his breath on my skin, smell the scent of his cologne. He smelled like brimstone with a hint of cinnamon. “You could point out to any single instance of good or bad that you’ve done and I would know of it. Because you allowed me to see it. You bared your soul to me the moment you agreed to play my game.”
“So why? You know the good that I’ve done. I’m not perfect, I know that. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve *sinned*, sure. But even still, doesn’t the good outweigh the bad?” It was all so maddening not knowing.
He stopped an inch away from my face, his nose practically touching mine. A heavy silence held between for such a long moment that I almost forgot to breath. Was he about to dismiss my claim? Judge me otherwise? In that brief moment, I reflected on any possible mistake I might have made and wondered if I valued myself incorrectly.
Finally, he pulled back a little. “Yes. You have done more good than you have bad. Not by a large margin, but enough to be noted. No lives taken. No adultery. You’re one of the better ones. *Congratulations*.” And there it was, that wolffish grin that vexed me so.
I was good! By god, I was good! That made me feel so relieved. Happy even. So why? Why did I feel so unsatisfied?
“I- I don’t get it.” I couldn’t help myself from saying. “In your eyes I’m good and yet I amount to this.” I held up the dollar bill. “Why?”
The devil sighed. “You really don’t know why your soul is worth so little? Fine, I’ll tell you.”
“You we’re willing to play a game with me, the devil himself, knowing full well that you were wagering your very soul, yes? Taking it further, you played not because you needed the money, but simply because you thought you could win. You were so confident, remember? So calm and collected. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” I said sheepishly.
“Then there you go. You have your answer.” He said with finality. “You gambled with your soul for a prize you did not need. “
“It is not I who valued your soul for so little. You’ve done that to yourself. You wagered something so important for something inconsequential. You did that because your soul is worth so little to you.” The devil shook his head in disappointment.
“And so by extension,” he waived a hand dismissively. “It means so, *so* very little to me.”
He started walking away, melding into the night as he returned from whence he came while I stood there, holding a single dollar bill in my hand.
___
Thanks for reading!
r/86Fiction
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I didn’t understand this at first. Was this some sort of joke?!
I looked down at an all too common treasury note. I made more breathing at work then this. What made this all particularly more interesting was the way this devilish man glared at me, all the while smirking after I won. We had spent hours playing this game he had. It was in a leather bound box with ancient text on it.
Only problem was how easy it was to win. He always rolled low, while I skipped ahead as if all the luck in the world had possessed me. It wasn’t particularly hard. You rolled and moved, and whom ever got to the end first won, and I did.
Whatever it’s a dollar I didn’t have right?! I guess I can use it for something...
“That’ll be $1.09.” Said the cashier
“Can you spot me I only gots a dollar.” I said angrily
“Sure sweetie I’ll see you next week, sometime? I’ll make sure to have you’re drinks ready okay?” She replied in a concerning tone
I wanted to get home as quickly as I could. Not only was it cold out, but I was still slightly consumed by the thought of this man. Something about him wasn’t right. I went out back to smoke and out of thin air he was there. I swore his eyes were red at first. God that’s the weed talking I think. I just can’t shake this feeling.
Finally here I open the lock on the 12 story apartment building I lived in. Don, the front desk clerk greeted me as he always did. I swear he never isn’t working.
Wait did his eyes... Ugh I need to get to my room ASAP.
“Mr. Wheatley, welcome home you have a package that’s just arrived.” Don said
“I wasn’t expecting anything. Any idea who send it?”
Of course he doesn’t he isn’t omnipotent.
“No sir, but I think you should open it soon” whispered Don “It’s very urgent.”
I shook my head and made my way to the elevator.
“It’s nice to finally have you with us Mr. Wheatley.” Don replied as he smirked.
Okay what’s going on. Did his eyes... No, fuck no. I’m just.. I need to relax. Finally the elevator stopped, 9th floor apartment 122C. Three locks and I’m safe.
Now let’s see what’s inside this box. I’ve had enough for tonight. As I begin to unwrap this crudely wrapped box I see it. No god what no..! It’s leather and those can’t be. Along with the wrapping a letter fell that read ‘Welcome to the family. We’ve been waiting.’
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time Mr. Wheatley.”
It was the devilish man from earlier. How’d he get in. I locked up I swear!
“Nothing to be afraid of. He knows everything sir.” Don said as I turned to find him in my kitchen.
“Wh.. wa.. I don’t get it.” I say as my voice shakes.
“You will soon.” Don says quietly. “You will soon.”
| 2020-02-05T14:45:25 | 2020-02-05T10:30:52 | 60 | 11 |
[WP] You are a detective in 1890 Austria. The man inside the interrogation room claims to have an incredible secret that will exonerate him from his murder charge. You can't imagine what monster would murder a 1 year old child, let alone one as adorable as young Adolf Hitler was.
|
The heavy door creaked loudly as Agent Müller slammed the door to the dimly lit interrogation room. He was clearly having a hard time at that point and frankly, so was I.
The murder had been so callous. So brazen. The man had simply walked up to the baby and his parents in plain sight of the whole town and drove a knife straight through the baby's skull. There was no expression on his face as he presented himself to the nearest constable for arrest.
Even then, through the lingering cigarette smoke and the poor lighting of the underground interrogation pods I could make out a blank stare; the kind of expressionless demeanour that indicates that while his body was present, his mind was not.
What was it about that stare? That slightly cocked angle, the glossed over eyes I had seen infect some of my closest comrades during the wars against the French some 20 years earlier. But it was more than that.
It was that slight smile and not a happy smile either. It was the ominous grin of a madman. Someone insane and beyond help.
"He hasn't responded to anything at all. He's just sitting there staring at nothing."
Müller blurted out. His voice was calm but his tone betrayed his professionalism. He was getting angry and he clearly wanted answers sooner rather than later.
"I'll go in. Give me a couple minutes, let me try at least."
I was curious to get a closer look at this man, to see if I could surmise anything by sheer proximity to this murderer.
"If you think you can get him to talk. The agents that processed him found this notebook in his bag, by the way. The text is written in English. We have a linguist from the university coming to examine it as soon as he can be reached. Seems like the piece of shit was taking notes on his victims. We only looked at a couple of pages though... "
His voice trailed off as he yawned and reached for his hip flask. I turned and I entered the room and closed the door to the all-familiar creak. The suspect didn't give any indication he knew I was there. If it were not for the sweat beading down from his closely shaved head, I would have said his body wasn't present enough to understand the environment it was currently in.
He wore a plain grey long sleeve shirt and a darker grey pair of pants. Both of these articles sat weirdly on the man, revealing his muscular shape. They were clothes I had never seen before, or at least they were styles that I was unfamiliar with. They seemed simple and designed to be minimalist and practical. His pants contained pockets on each leg and while they were not tight against him, they were certainly form fitting.
I sat down at the table across from him, hoping to meet his gaze. The wooden chair squeaked as I pulled myself in closer and I folded my hands together on top. He continued to stare blankly, unnerving grin completely unchanged. I found myself staring back at him, pondering what I should open with. Minutes ticked by as I began to get deeper and deeper in to my own thoughts. I was almost staring as blankly as the man across the table before I realized he was looking straight at me now.
My blood ran cold as I tried not to look startled. His expression went from completely gone and child-like to a sort of intensity that made me uncomfortable. I was trying to work up the courage to say something when suddenly he asked me a question in a low but clear voice.
"You are Agent Josef Eisler, correct?"
I was stunned. I fumbled for words before he repeated himself.
"You are Agent Josef Eisler, born May 1852 in Grieskirchen, Austria. Correct?"
I could not believe what I had just heard.
That murderer, this strange man with the blank stare and dark grin had just said my name and the place of my birth. Although he had not said very much, his German accent sounded Bavarian. I strongly desired to ask this man many questions: how did he know my name and where I was born? Why had he murdered a baby in front of his parents? Why did he carry a note book written in coded English? I cleared my throat and suppressed a shudder.
"Who are you?"
I wasnt sure what to ask so I figured names might be a good place to start.
"Who I am is unimportant."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because what happened today wasn't about me."
"Well then who was it about?"
He paused for several seconds, clearly aware that his next words would carry weight.
"It was about all of humanity."
The mans' voice changed audibly for a brief second. There was something painful behind that claim and I was eager to know what. I had to remind myself that while he had shocked me at first with his creepy knowledge of the intimate details of my childhood, he was still a confessed murderer. I saw him look down and saw an opening to pry a little bit.
"The parents, Mr and Mrs, uh, Hitler; do you think they share that same opinion?"
He averted my gaze now and was becoming slightly more agitated, although I could see him actively controlling his breathing. He didn't answer my question so I repeated it.
"Do you think the pare-"
"Open my note book."
I was taken aback by the sudden change of conversational direction but I played along.
"Any page in particular?"
"57"
I opened the notebook to page 57. A feeling that had become chillingly familiar that day creeped up my spine. I couldn't read most of the text but some was obvious; a picture of me and my home, my height, my weight, the fact that I'm Jewish. All of it was on this book. I saw the name of my wife interspersed throughout and even more worryingly, the name of my mistress. This was a detail few people were even aware of, let alone keeping notes on.
"What is this?"
The man had become completely relaxed and leaned forward on the table, hands clasped. He spoke in a low voice that was urgent but concise.
"This is information on your life. What you've done, what you're doing and even what you will do."
"Will do? As in, the future that hasn't happened?"
"Yes".
I was completely paralyzed. This couldnt be happening. How was any of this real? The adrenalin pushed the ice through my veins as I looked at the words on my page.
After a few minutes of silence, the man leaned in further yet and began to talk in a voice that was almost a whisper.
"The baby. His pages are 5 through 31."
I was slightly puzzled. At 38 years of age and a successful stint in the Prussian military, I had compiled barely enough to fill one page of this mans book.
"Why does a baby have that many pages?"
The mans piercing eyes met my own gaze and he spoke very matter-of-factly.
"Because evil paints a vivid and detailed picture, Mr Eisler."
|
We get about five of them every month now. Some come armed with knives, some with strange revolvers. Some bring only their bare hands and hubris. All of them are looking for the boy.
The most unnerving thing is that we can't figure out where they're coming from. For all intents and purposes, they seem to appear out of thin air.
It's no use asking these foreigners for documents, of course. Most of them can't even understand German. They just stare at you blankly, or else produce an obviously forged passport. The birthdate is always wrong, and sometimes the country doesn't even exist.
At first the Hitlers were terrified. Who wouldn't be? Gradually, however, they've adapted to this way of life: the 24-hour patrol outside their hut, the escorts through town. They assumed everything would be easier once Klara had the baby, but the threats only escalated.
It hasn't exactly been easy on the department either. "There's too many resources squandered on that one family," said the chief at our meeting yesterday, "Even if he does see his first birthday, that kid's going to be looking over his shoulder every day for the rest of his life. It's just not worth it." The chief has a knack for stating what everybody feels, but never dares to say. Perhaps that's why he's the chief. Or maybe he can only be so bold *because* he's the chief.
For my part, I can't agree. Alois Hitler is a good man and a better friend. We grew up together, and our wives are as close as sisters. If anything were to happen to Klara and Alois, I've already sworn I'd raise the child as my own. One thing's for certain, though: we'd definitely have to change his name.
| 2015-03-30T01:09:11 | 2015-03-30T00:55:12 | 126 | 16 |
[WP] You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. You are fighting in a war, when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off you.
|
*They had me dead to rights.*
Caught with an empty magazine, surrounded, someone came up behind me and stabbed. I felt the knife point touch skin. I closed my eyes. I waited to die.
The knife point trembled.
I had yet to turn around, though.
“I will not be taken prisoner by the likes of you, Loyalist. I would rather die freeing this town from your tyrannical grip.”
Again the knife point touched me, but this time the softest sigh of frustration that I have ever heard came with it.
“It’s *you*.”
I turned around to look at my assailant, ready to hit whoever it was with my rifle, and follow it up with one of the few pistol rounds I had left. Smooth, clean, efficient. It was going to be like an action movie, and I was the hero. This person wasn’t going to get away with threatening *me.*
The concussion grenade that rolled opposite my cover had other plans for my day.
A loud noise. A massive push. A sharp pain. Darkness.
---
I don’t remember much, from getting dragged away.
I remember a voice, soft and kind, begging someone to help drag me up some stairs.
I remember the sounds of struggling, as whoever it was had to drag me up the stairs alone anyways.
I remember falling asleep a few times; the incapacitating power of the new Loyalist Concussion Grenade was no joke.
On the third flight of stairs, since I was already unable to move, I allowed myself to fall asleep.
I guess I was going to be a prisoner.
---
I woke up to the smell of bacon frying. The gentle *ding* of a toaster popping. I suppose it was breakfast time for the non-POWs. Whoever had taken me would find they were going to have a hell of a time trying to break me. I had been trained to resist interrogation. I would not give up the Insurrection.
The door opened, giving me my first bit of light. I wasn’t handcuffed. I wasn’t chained up. I was in a soft bed, in a nice bedroom, with my makeshift uniform draped over a chair. I tried to sit up, only for a searing pain to keep me where I was. A bandaged wound, most likely freshly stitched. That Loyalist bastard and his knife. Well, judging from my treatment, I was at least in a safe house. I had that going for me.
As the door opened fully, I had to reevaluate my situation. A boy. A Loyalist uniform. Fair skin. Elegant demeanor. Clearly, the richest of the rich. Someone that I would have dragged out of their home for supporting such a corrupt government. *That* is who had saved me. *That* is who had tended to my wounds.
Ridiculous.
“Just because you saved me, and tended to my wound, does not excuse the fact that one of your ilk stabbed me and tried to take me prisoner.” I spit acidly, letting my captor know at once that I would not be so easily calmed down.
“I didn’t stab you, *whiner*,” He says in that same soft voice that I remember begging anyone for help. “The force of the grenade blasted you on to my knife. An interesting outcome, in that I kinda sorta got what I wanted… but not really.”
I am sure my expression was one of blatant confusion. It should have been. I was blatantly confused.
He laid the tray of food oun my lap, a fork and knife there for the sandwich he had made me.
“Giving your prisoner a weapon? Bold move. Bad move, too.”
Sure, he had been nice. He had tended to my wound. He had done all he could.
He was a Loyalist. I was an Insurrectionist. One of us had to die. He had just given me the out I needed. The paring knife that he had given me to cut my food was a silver blur in the air as I swung it at his neck. He didn’t even have time to flinch.
It stopped a fraction of an inch away from his skin, and stayed there. I tried to push, the knife still didn’t budge. I gave it all of my strength, feeling my wound start to tear and bleed… and nothing. I couldn’t do a damn thing to kill this guy, and there was no real reason for-
“Oh, *really*?” I sighed, giving the amused-looking boy the most exhausted look I could manage.
“Yup. How inconvenient. It was super frustrating for me, because I legitimately *had you*. Your back was to me, you were fumbling a reload, even a medical officer like me could take you. I went for the sneaky knife, and… nope.”
I wince at his derision, and at the fresh pain from my wound. This was not my day.
“I don’t like men. There’s gotta be a mistake.” I spit again.
“I don’t like traitors. I feel the same way.” He responds, sounding bored.
“Is it even possible for enemies to be soulmates?”
“Apparently so.”
“We could just go our separate ways, pretend we never met, all of that.”
“Except you have a bleeding wound in your side.” He sighed, reaching for a medical bag and pulling out cloths, a needle, and some surgical thread.
“It feels dirty,” he continued “having to waste anesthetic on you, but the needle won’t puncture unless you can’t feel it. Please be careful, next time.”
With that, he went to work sewing me shut and disinfecting the wound again. He was quick, efficient, and the way he smiled when he worked let me know that he loved his job. Even if he was just healing me.
“R-right.”
It was all I could say. His light brown eyes didn’t have a hint of malice to them. He worked, knowing that if it hadn’t been for fate and the strange way the world works, one of us would have died by the other’s hand, already. He worked quietly, humming a soft song and wiping his brow when he was done.
“Please, eat. I am not an awful cook, if I do say so myself.”
A few bites into the breakfast bacon-egg toast sandwich, and I had to agree. This was good. Good and hot and better than the protein bar rations I had been living off of for months. The juice was fresh, too.
When he came back with another tray, I found myself hoping there was more for me. Of course that was ridiculous. He needed to eat too, after all. Still, something he said was giving me an itch to ask.
“You said that you didn’t like *traitors*.” I ask, my voice mostly casual. “I said boys. Have you… I dunno, have you had a boyfriend before?”
He put the tray down, looking down at his lap.
“I have had a boyfriend before, yes. His name was Alec. He and I grew up together. Went to the same boarding school. All of it. He was visiting his brother during his brother’s summer vacation. He was in Cambridge on July 14th. He was there for the nuke that started the insurrection. I saw it on the news. The fireball. The burning buildings of famed institutions. The loss of life. I… am not strong. No Loyalist is. We are rich. We have all been rich for generations. My family hasn’t ‘worked’ since my great-great-great-grandfather struck it big in the 1890’s gold rush. We invested. We invested. Became doctors or lawyers or other non physical things. We grew weak, like a lot of my class grew week. If this were purely a physical war, you would have won by now. We have technology and infrastructure. We don’t want this war, but… seeing the city where my boyfriend was burn… I offered my services to the Loyalists.”
I hadn’t expected such a long-winded answer. I hadn’t expected him to be open about his past, or anything. He was supposed to be cold. To treat me like a prisoner. To treat me like I would have treated him. Instead, he was only ever kind.
“I lost my sister.” I responded, quietly. “She was sick, and there was an embargo on my county. No medicine made it in. She died from something preventable. I joined up with my local insurrectionist chapter to avenge her.”
Short, bitter, and to the point. This was had gone on for over 5 years, now. Everybody has lost someone. His story shouldn’t hit me as hard as it did.
We both gave each other a quiet “I’m sorry.” at the exact same time. It caused us both to laugh.
“You're going to be here for at least a couple of weeks, recovering.” He said quietly, looking me over again.
“That...May not be so bad.”
The smile he gave me confirmed it. It might not be so bad.
|
I have always admired obsession. I find little of that fervent passion within myself, I must admit it. I felt far too superficially for such a feeling to rise within my breast. Instead I was predisposed towards an apathetic reasoning, containing only the barest vestiges of emotion. Living rotting flesh, in essence.
I had few skills of which to boast, possessing no great measure of either showmanship or eloquence, but, as I discovered when first my father procured for me a commission, I had some small talent in command. Not true command, no, I had not the zeal for such a thing. I never worked in direct conjunction with any force, not least the infantry, the contingent of forces for which, through a policy of demure self deprecation, I found myself in command of. I sent the men of my nation across continents. From a palace. The maps on my wall are a testament to my achievement, each nation from sea to sea overlaid with the deep green of my nation's flag. I conceived of ways to provide them with food, shelter, shovels, artillery pieces, ladders, tents, straw, ovens, pots, pans, women, and most precious of all, wine. In short, I managed the ugly and oft ill-regarded department of logistics.
There was a single occasion, however, on which I was compelled to venture forth onto the field of battle, to fight as valiant men do in defense of that which they hold dear. Unfortunately, as it turned out, I wasn't particularly good at it. I was, as it was put several years later at my wedding, rather timid, possessed of the temerity of a squirrel.
We approached the field on horseback, watching from afar as the enemy city was bombarded with shells. I smiled and nodded and made some remarks on the subject of the enemy's cowardice and our comparative prowess in the style of pugnacious martial skill. We laughed at the enemy's expense.
After three days, the time came for a final attack. I feigned illness, and the attack, after several hours of harsh fighting on the ramparts, on bridges, in fortified citadels, in the palace itself, the enemy city was taken.
After an appropriate number of hurrahs, we entered the city with much pomp and little fanfare. The populace were not pleased to see us. This was not a liberation. Their families were dead. We smiled, waved, and rode through the throng, escorted by heavily armed and exceptionally trained (and, I might add, fed and equipped) guards, to the imperial palace at one of the final vestiges of our enemy's empire.
The palace was magnificent, like those of millennia long since passed, with exquisite columns, intricate arches upon which were carved reliefs, and endless sitting rooms filled with the most beautiful furnishings and furniture, near all of it seeming to possess a simplicity which, upon further inspection, was shown to be a misconception most unworthy of a noble. It was truly a work of unparalleled majesty in most every respect.
To this day I am not sure why, being myself somewhat meek and unassuming, but on that beautiful day, in that prepossessing setting, I felt most at ease, and took it upon myself to enter that room, the room in which the widowed queen stood waiting, before any of my companions. I had time to see a crossbow bolt come searing toward the area where I knew my bowels must rest, and anticipate briefly the agony of death, my intestines spilling out and into my hands as a woman's bosom from her corset, before the bolt struck home.
It did not pierce the skin. I cannot say that I was not in a state of the most unbearable shock, my mind addled, my knees shaking, my bowels releasing as I soiled myself in a desperate fear, but I can say this. That is how I met your mother.
Thank you for reading the whole thing, if you could be bothered. I appreciate it.
| 2017-04-22T07:04:13 | 2017-04-22T06:56:43 | 113 | 14 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
Day 143 of the 10,365th year of the Galactic Federation (April 7th 2574)
As the human ambassador and his staff left the conference room Thrassik found himself walking over to Fleet Commander Horlaq. Horlaq watched his approach with two of his eye stalks, the other three stared at the humans until they were out of sight. "So it begins" he said.
Thrassik shook his head, "No, it began when we included membership in the Galactic Federation as a part of the ultimatum. The Humans may be peaceful, but they've always been individualists, we should have known that they would never give up their sovereignty."
Horlaq grunted. Thrassik was the closest thing the Federation had to an expert on the Humans, that's why he was included in the delegation that delivered the declaration of war. Even so, Horlaq couldn't help but question his reasoning. "It was membership in the Federation? Not the demand to turn over the two planets they colonized in the border zone? Not the demand for a reduction in the size of their fleet? Every other race in the galaxy willingly joined the Federation, both of our species practically came begging to the Federation for membership, why should the Humans find the idea so abhorrent?"
Thrassik paused for a moment, considering his reply before answering. "The Humans aren't like the rest of the races in the galaxy, their entire history is a struggle for or against the unity of their species. Did you know that it was only in the last hundred years that they managed to convince the last of their dissenters to join with their central government? It took them thousands of years to get their species to agree on how they should rule themselves, they would have given up systems and ships and survived, but their government would have shattered if they suddenly put themselves under our rule."
"Not that they have much choice in the matter anymore, they've been outside the fold for far too long. Our fleets should retake those two worlds within a year, and be able to advance into Human space a few months after that. We have over ten times the ships they do and millennia of experience, the Humans have never even fought a proper interstellar war before. They'll be forced to accept membership whether they want to or not. "
Thrassik shook his head. "I hope you are right, Fleet Commander, but I fear the Humans will not give up so easily."
\---
Day 43 of the 10,366th year of the Galactic Federation (December 28th 2575)
"And you were so concerned, Thrassik. Almost a year to prepare and look and how poorly the Humans defended their world."
Thrassik and Horlaq stood on the bridge of the flagship of the Federation fleet, looking at the devastation in orbit around the Human colony of Harlan III. A small debris ring was forming from the remains of two dozen ruined warships, with small fires where pockets of atmosphere were still escaping.
"Twenty four ships, Thrassik, twenty four against our two hundred. All of them destroyed without the loss of a single one of ours. The Humans are fools to continue to resist us. Surely they will have to give up now"
"They didn't give in to our terms when we presented the ultimatum, Horlaq, they didn't give in when we arrived on their borders with the largest fleet they'd ever seen. They didn't give in before the battle when we warned them to surrender. And how many times have they sent delegations to us asking for peace, with any condition acceptable but membership in the Federation? I've lost count. I think it will take more than the loss of a fleet or make them change their minds."
"It's not just a fleet, we have their planet now too. Our administrators are already on their way to their capital. Once the Human's see how much better life is when we're in charg-"
"Fleet Commander," Interrupted an officer on the command deck "we've lost the shuttle with the administrators."
Horlaq's eye stalks swiveled to the officer in surprise. "What happened, a malfunction? Did they hit debris from the battle?"
"No sir, it looks like they were hit by weapons fire from the planet's surface. They were shot down." The quiet babble of the command deck immediate went silent. The officer went on. "I've conducted a surface scan, it looks like the capital city has been fortified, and there are concealed weapons batteries in the hills to the North and East of the city, the shuttle was struck by a missile fired from one of them."
Horlaq's eye stalks were rigid with shock. "Are they not aware they lost the battle? Send them a message on an open channel, tell them that their fleet has been destroyed and that they are to surrender immediately."
All eyes were on the officer as she sent the message. They didn't have to wait long for a response. "They refuse to surrender sir. The say that you should, uh, put your demand for a surrender in an orifice I don't believe you possess."
"They want a ground engagement." Horlaq muttered to Thrassik, "The federation hasn't fought a ground engagement since its formation. Don't they know we've won? That we can bombard them from orbit? Why would they do this?"
Thrassik's skin, what little of it could be seen beneath his scales, was pale. "They seem to be taking this war a bit more seriously than we are, Fleet Commander. Can we win a fight on the ground?"
"Win? All we have is a security force meant to ensure law and order on an occupied world, they aren't prepared to fight a battle. No, there's only one option. Communications, order the defenders to stand down within five hours, otherwise we will be forced to bombard their city from orbit. Let's hope for their sake they accept."
Just over five hours later fire fell from the sky upon the world of Harlan III. The Human defences were obliterated in minutes, and the planet set ablaze. Then the fire moved to the cities. After just an hour of bombardment the government capitulated, but there was no celebration from the victors after the grim event.
"How many do you think died before they gave up?" Asked Thrassik, "surely they surrendered before suffering too many casualties."
Horlaq shrugged, "It's too early to say. Tens, maybe hundreds of thousands? We've never had to use an orbital bombardment before, the threat has always been enough. At least this will be then end, surely they must surrender."
Thrassik stared at the world burning below them, cities, forests and fields sending fire, smoke and ash billowing into the sky. "For any of us I think that would be the case, but I fear for the Humans surrender may be the last thing on their minds.
&#x200B;
|
The world was on fire.
At least, that's what it looked like. The surface was blanketed in thick clouds of grey and brown smoke, the residue of millions of tons of dirt and civilisation blocking out the sun. Even the planet's moon had taken a beating, fresh craters speckling its surface. A lone, battered satellite beamed the scenes back towards a spaceship, floating adrift in space.
The spaceship could have passed for human if it weren't for the forcefield shielding it from debris. Humans had never managed to advance this far. On the spaceship, at the helm, lay two humanoid forms, lying on the ground next to each other. A live feed was beamed onto a large cracked screen.
"It's gone."
"It's really gone."
One reached for the other, claws on their four-fingered hand sheathed. A sign of respect and trust in their species. Not that it mattered now. The other grasped the reaching hand tightly. Quiet sobs wracked their body.
"We're the last two alive, you know." The humanoid attached to the reaching hand whispered. "The universe used to sing songs about us. Now they are silent."
"Yes." The second humanoid wheezed. There was a large gash on their front from a shard of unknown metal. It was causing them some difficulty. "Our home planet is gone. The humans won."
"Yes. Does it really matter, though?" Both fell silent for some time, pondering their situation.
Then, the first humanoid, the one without the injury, spoke.
"To think that they burned their own planet, just to destroy our last hope of survival."
The live feed caught a brief glimpse of a continent throughout the smoke. The waters were soot and the land burned.
"Total war." Both whispered this in unison, as their lone spacecraft drifted, directionless, through the dark night of space.
| 2018-12-15T09:26:04 | 2018-12-15T02:45:32 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them
|
Torus took his seat at the table, one of 11 identical seats. As he glanced around the circle, his upper mouth twisted into a frown. Typically, the ten representatives of the Federation took joy in subtly outdoing one another at their meetings. This human insistance on identical seats set at a round table was perplexing.
The way of the Federation was simple. Ten species ruled coequally. Other species joined as clients. To join, they accepted the extermination of two thirds of their species. The remainder took their rightful place in breeding programs, coupled with overhaul of industry and agriculture. This ensured the continued prosperity of the Federation. Occasionally, some future clients proved troublesome. For them, the Federation had the Ru'a.
Kronan scientists discovered the Ru'a early on. A primitive species, but perfect for genetic modification. Now, all Ru'a we're clones. There were no females. Missing proteins in their cells ensured they depended on the Federation for survival. When needed, entire armies could be grown. When the Federation was finished with them, they thrown away. Few Ru'a survived past the age of 5. Torus looked up, gratefully, at his Ru'a guards. The humans had no idea what was coming for them.
A door on the other side of the chamber opened and the human diplomat seated himself at the table. These diplomats - the humans thought they could talk their way out of their fate. Some suspected they even thought to secure full representation for themselves. Ridiculous!
The human spoke, "We have reviewed the terms of Federation membership and, I apologize, but we do not find them acceptable. While your Federation is certainly a powerful force, we would prefer to take things a little slower. I am sure that, one day, we may sit together as friends, but for now, perhaps we should focus on building some preliminary trade agreements. There are many possibilities -"
The human was interrupted by a fist banging on the table. Kruathanan, of the Ghorsh, never took kindly to resistance. "Silence, human," he hissed, "You talk and you talk. You wear your diplomacy like a cloak of protection, thinking it will keep you safe. Nothing can save you."
The human stared at Ghorsh. At first, Torus thought he was frightened. After a few moments, he checked his timepiece and it became clear that he was merely thinking.
Again, he spoke, "You are all so mighty. Nothing can match you for speed or strength. Your lives are counted in centuries. We humans are different. Like your Ru'a, every day is a struggle to survive. Our lives are short. Death stands over us, every moment of every day."
"When Death stands over you, you can do one of three things. You can fight it, which is ultimately-"
"-futile." Torus turned to his guard in surprise. All of the Ru'a seemed to have become oddly intent. There was an edge to them that Torus had never seen before.
The human didn't seem surprised at all. "Exactly, thank you. The second choice is to run from it. We had a poet who once wrote, because I would not stop for Death, Death kindly stopped for me. You cannot outrun Death." The Ru'a all chuckled. Torus didn't know they even had a sense of humor.
"The third option is to make Death your friend and companion. To learn from Death. To allow Death to make you wise. We have learned much. Patience. Forgiveness."
He turned to look, again, at Ghorsh. "You think we engage in diplomacy, to wear this cloak, to protect ourselves? No, we wear it to protect you. In times of trouble. Kronans can turn to their intellect. Kruathanan can turn to their strength." He nodded at Torus, "The Tun can rely on their cunning. We humans have only Death. We can be your friend, or we can kill you all. I'm afraid there is no middle ground." He glanced at his timepiece. "I'm sorry, this is taking longer than I thought. We will not mire ourselves in generations of war, and we most certainly will not accede to your demands. If you will not be our friends, then know that Death is coming."
He nodded towards the Ru'a. "These brave men are like us. They live with Death. But unlike them, we have not been made small by false gods. You sit with us at this table because you think you have taken the measure of our resistance. This is merely the beginning."
Ghorsh, fool that he was, began bellowing all of the things he planned to do to the human diplomat. There were threats about eating his heart while he still lived. Something about burning the diplomats family alive. The diplomat looked... bored.
During a pause for breath the diplomat interjected, "You think I made an empty threat. Make no mistake, Death is coming for you. Every one of you has a weakness. The Kruathanan atmosphere, for instance, is very fickle. It doesn't take much to turn it against you." He checked his timepiece again. "Approximately 3 minutes ago, a Terran raiding vessel was likely destroyed by your planetary defenses. Before destruction it released a compound into your atmosphere. By now, your sky is beginning to darken. In a few hours, your people will have suffocated."
The color drained from Ghorsh's face. He began to rise from the table, but a sharp crack sent him slumping to the floor, tail twitching. One of his Ru'a guards had broken his neck. The other representatives were, likewise, dispatched. Torus found himself awash in pain as his head hit the table. The guard had snapped his first and second neck, but missed the third. He could only watch in agony as the Ru'a pledged themselves to the humans and watch in disbelief as the humans pledged to find a way to free the Ru'a from their enslavement. He listened to them as they planned their conquest, to free all the client worlds of the Federation and reforge it anew. One of the Ru'a noticed him watching. The last thing Torus heard was the snapping of his third neck.
|
Most species we would call warlike never make it to the stars. Those with the need to destory, willingness to kill and die, it's not a viable life plan.
Humans we had encounterd at the edge of Solar System Gamma-Phi in the Virgo Cluster. They seemed so fearfull then, instantly scared of us and what we could do to their smaller vessel. How were we to know that man saw us as something like themselves?
Man avoids war because they are so good at it that emplying war against themselves would have resulted in total destruction, as it did with so many other destructive species. Our people think the same of course, but we never got good at it. We though we did, then we forced the humans hands, we asked too much, we attacked them thinking we were safe.
I write this missive in stone, knowing only a human will read it. Knowing that my people die, and all we had befriended will die too. Humans are monsters even to themselves, they are eager to obliterate, yet will try everything they can to avoid giving in to their temptation.
| 2022-08-05T18:58:12 | 2022-08-05T17:26:19 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] A planet rotates once every 1,000 years so that each side is either tundra or desert; the poles are also frozen wastes, but there is a small area of ever moving habitable land. Two nomadic tribes isolated on each side of the planet begin to find the 500 year old relics of the other.
I kind of imagine one tribe viewing the sun as the bringer of life, while the other sees it as the harbinger of death depending on what is driving them forward.
|
The Lost City of Kvoehr. Eons past our ancestors had left it here, choking in the embrace of Mother Abyss, believing in the prediction of the Celesteocles that it would remain when we returned.
But the people of Kvoehr had made one tragic mistake. They had believed, as many do, that they would remain forever. Inevitably their empire fell into collapse and declined, overwhelmed by barbarian raiders from the Dark.
Now from their greatness sprang many nations, and each coveted the old capital with its triple-walls, and the golden monolith that touched the Sun King's majesty. But only I still held the old maps.
"The horses don't go father than here," Grueld, my guide, said gruffly. He was a brute of a man, closer to a great ape that talked than a man possessed of an ape's strength. I wondered for the nth time if he were not truly some unholy soldier of the mechanomancers, but I quailed at the thought my expedition had drawn their baleful attention.
"Why not?" I questioned, wiping the thick sweat from my brow again.
"Because this is the last oasis I know of, and they can't carry enough water for themselves to drink beyond."
I opened my mouth to offer some astute reasoning, but was cruelly cut off by an angrily raised finger.
"Don't whine. The horses stay here, and we travel no more than three sleeps into the Sunlands. We cannot carry enough water for more than six sleeps."
Again I wondered why I let this brute, of questionable origins, be my guide. But in truth, I was forced to admit, he was the only one who had agreed to go so far as this.
So, with trepidation, I dismounted. Even through my thick soles I could feel the warmth of these lands on my feet, and dreaded the trek before us.
The horse, that vile hairy beast, reminiscent of its master, spit on me as a parting farewell. Grueld laughed heartily at my expense, even going so far as to roll his eyes at me when I reminded exactly who was paying him for this expedition. And so, under that auspicious start, our true journey began.
The sleeps passed in a haze. The sun-bleached rock and sand reflected the majesty of the Sun's light directly into my face, as though punishing me for my temerity in treading so far on the Sun's domain. I was forced many times to wrap rags around my face to keep from burning, led on only by grasing at Grueld's cloak.
The sand and rock burnt my feet, and it was only at sleep, when we put the thick bedrolls down, that I got any respite at all. Grueld awfully rationed the water, and by the second sleep my throat was so dry I wondered that I could even talk.
At last we arrived at a point where both I and Grueld could fast feel the third sleep approaching, but we still had not reached the great cliff in which was nestled the city. We tread on in silence, until at last Grueld began to set down his pack.
"I can't go back from here." I croaked. "The city should be no more than another sleep away."
Grueld GROWLED at me, like the animal he was. "I will not die for some fools gambit. Wait a star-cycle, perhaps two, and you shall reach your city then. No men shall be able to inhabit it before four or five star-cycles regardless."
I must admit that I did somewhat regret what I did next, but to see my dreams so close...and for that ape Grueld to take them away...I was not in my right mind you must understand.
"THE WATER" Grueld screamed as my sword point pierced his waterskin, his own sword drawn too slowly in his surprise and fatigue. He looked down at my own skin before thrusting at me, but I hurled it to the ground even as I narrowly parried his blow, and the thirsty sands consumed it in an instant.
"You have killed us," Grueld muttered, his calm tone belied by his face, incandescent with rage. "I should kill you now, so that at least I may rest peacefully knowing you went first."
"No!" I explained. "Listen...the city...the city had a deep reservoir. We need only make it to the city, and even in this heat water should remain."
Grueld scowled furiously and then continued setting out the beds, silently now.
The time before the next sleep was even more hellish than the time that had come before. The Sun King punished us terribly for intruding so far, and as the waking came to a close I noticed I had forgotten to rag a small area on my arm. I had not even felt it as it reddened, then blackened, until my arm had fallen limp.
"It is almost sleep time," Grueld croaked. "We will not wake. I will kill you now."
He stumbled towards me, barely able to hold his sword, and I fell over in exhaustion and surprise.
As he pulled the blade above me for the coup de grace, I suddenly was filled with a renewed vigor. "WAIT," I shouted, somehow mustering the energy from some hidden reserve.
I pointed.
Ahead of us the city glimmered...glimmered? Something was wrong. The Lost City had three walls, this city had five. But I was too lost in the moment to worry, too giddy to find that I would live.
I stumbled towards the city, then ran, Grueld not far behind, and reached it quickly. My eyelids felt heavy, but the silver door (silver door?) of the city stood before me. It was ajar, though only slightly, and I stepped beyond that barrier like a conquering hero.
On the other side, it was cool. The heat of the sun was gone, somehow, perhaps a blessing of the Sun King (though no records had mentioned this.) Grueld sniffed hungrily and headed off to some strange silvered contraption while I simply basked in the magical weather.
"I smell water," he announced, and with one quick blow of his mighty blade struck the contraption such that water began to pour from it."
I drank deeply of the water, threw up some from drinking too quickly, then drank again. I filled my waterskin, and Grueld filled his own hastily repaired one.
Again the ape stalked off, and I was forced to follow. I found him gawking at some sculpture and was about ready to berate him when I followed his vision.
There, at the base of the sculpture, was an inscription. But not in Kvoehran, nor even with the Kvoehran alphabet. My eyes drew higher, and I recoiled in terror as finally, the sun-blindness fading, I saw for whom, for what, the statue had been made.
At first glance it seemed a man. But his fingers were bulbous like those of a frog, and instead of two legs he had three. Where ought to rest his mouth there was instead a gaping maw, like a slash wound, full of pointed glittering teeth.
This was not Kvoehr. Perhaps it once had been, as it rested where it should. But there had been others here. This was not Kvoehr any longer.
(I'll continue if people like it.)
|
"Pressure?" I asked.
"I'm not detecting any changes," said William. "Atmospheric pressure same as it's ever been. Why do even bother checking?"
My patience was wearing thin as well, but it was important I didn't show that to William. "Lieutenant, unless you have a better way of getting off this rock, we're going to continue following the habitable zone until we find something we can use."
Our recon vessel had crash landed on the planet a few months ago. It had a narrow habitable zone that was constantly moving as the planet rotated. Since then, we'd settled into a rhythm. Every few days, we scouted as far into the habitable zone as we could looking for anything we could use as fuel to get us out of here. At this point, the colony ship would already have made it to New Earth. We just needed to catch up and rejoin our families.
William sighed but didn't respond. "Temperature's rising. We should turn back."
"Not yet. We have a few more miles before our engines overheat," I said.
We continued flying in silence, with William continuing to monitor readings.
"Wait," said William. "Take a look at this."
William's screen was a mess of numbers and graphs "I'm not sure what I'm seeing."
"Radiation. *Massive* amounts of it," said William.
"Take the ship down," I said.
"Are you serious?" asked William. "There's enough radiation down there to fry us alive."
"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," I said. Radiation meant there was probably something we could use. For the first time since we'd crashed, I felt hopeful.
Karen, our navigator, piloted the ship as low as we could without suffering permanent damage. "Get me a visual," I said.
A screen flickered to life. There was a massive structure below, but I couldn't quite make it out. "Take us lower."
Karen looked at me hesitantly. "We'll only be there for a few minutes," I said. "We don't have a choice."
We descended until the figure on the screen became clear.
All three of us stared at the screen.
The good news? We had definitely found something that would serve as a fuel source.
The bad news? It was the colony ship. It had crashed as well. And unlike us, they hadn't been lucky enough to land in the habitable zone.
| 2015-05-11T14:04:26 | 2015-05-11T13:26:42 | 60 | 22 |
[WP] Do the crime, do the time - but the reverse is also true, you can choose to serve jail time in advance of any crime you want to commit. After voluntarily spending 50 years in prison one individual is set to be released and the world watches in anticipation of whatever they do next.
|
Sorry for any typos, written on mobile.
Edit: To the kind person who gave me gold, [thank you](https://media2.giphy.com/media/kkAdqZnvhsc12/giphy.gif) :)
***
#The Ex-Con#
Officer Gurira watched impassively as a wrinkled face took a seat across from him. PC-502, otherwise known as Adam Forester, was the oldest convict ever to make it through Preemptive Incarceration, impressive in more than one respect. The program was established fifty-two years ago. Its official intent was to try and preemptively rehabilitate trouble elements, with the offer of a virtual free pass to do anything said elements sordid hearts desired after they left the program. In practice, few people who entered the program every saw the outside again. There were whispers the government has set the program up to eliminate potential societal threats before they could act upon their dark impulses. Most of those who enrolled died within a few years of their acceptance, usually by a shiv to the kidney or suspect 'suicides'. The few that did make it out usually hit their quotas fairly quickly. It didn't take much to earn a fifteen or twenty five year sentence, and ex-Preemptives always got the maximum sentence. Still, every year, a few hundred would decide they wanted to try their luck, try to beat the system. They never did.
But then there was Forester.
Forester had joined shortly after the program first started. Compared to the other inmates, his rap sheet was laughably microscopic. A first offence DUI. 48 hours jail time. Instead, he asked for fifty years. And here he'd been since, in this same facility. He was part of the foundation by now-a wall you saw on the morning call to breakfast, a patch of mold no one had bothered to clean up. His stay had been quiet, for the most part. The first decade or so was littered with several incidents of fighting with the other inmates and the odd suicide attempt. Then after that the incidents stopped. Forester was forgotten.
Until now.
He was twenty-one when he entered. Now he was over seventy, white haired, liver spotted skin, veins rolling like hills over his hands. Gurira studied the unassuming man, and wondered what evil desires had driven him to give up fifty years of his life, his youth, to spend his twighlight years committing crime without reprisal. Not to say that he wasn't fit. In fact he was, remarkably so. He reminded Gurira of an elderly body builder, toned, hardened. Adam Forester was one the few who prison looked good on. The scars on his face and neck from those first ten years didn't make him looked like a tired old man. They made him look dangerous. He could take a hit, and get back up, even now. There was also a certain light in his eyes, something so often missing from the old. Officer Gurira was the furthest thing from pittying the old man. In fact, he was loathe to admit he felt intimidated by the interesting, if modest looking, soon to be ex-convict.
Gurira pretended to study his file while really trying to collect his thoughts. Forester stared on, seeming almost disinterested in what was going on.
"Mr. Forester, your preemptive incarceration has expired. The items and clothes you were brought in with will be returned upon your discharge. As a participant in the program, it is required of you to answer the following survey in the presence of a certified program authority. Consider this as your final act of reparation to society within these walls, as you're answers will help us to better improve the program. Are you ready, Mr. Forester?"
He nodded.
The old convict had a steady voice, oddly pleasant to listen to. At first, his answers were standard.
"When were you incarcerated?"
"July 4th, 1957."
"Rate the standards of your facility on a scale of one to ten."
"As of recently, a four. Budget cuts I think."
"Rate the disposition of your fellow inmates on a scale of one to ten."
"Another four."
Officer Gurira knew these answers would be broadcast across the world. Everyone wanted to know what the Incarcerated Innocent, as he'd been labeled by the media, intended to do once he was out. He'd been interviewed a few times leading up to his release, but he was notoriously close lipped. The officer was beginning to fear there would be nothing to show for all the curiosity.
"Did you plan or make plans to commit a crime once your sentence was over?"
The man paused a moment. Then gave a small shake of his head. "No."
Gurira glanced up from his papers incredulously. "No?"
Forester shook his head. "No, I did not plan to a commit a crime. I still don't."
Gurira continued to stare. Finally, as no explanation was forthcoming, he marked no as the answer.
"For what reason did you enroll yourself in the program?" The question came out more personally than Gurira had intended.
Forester was quiet a long time. Gurira waited patiently for his answer.
"By the age of twenty-one, I knew I didn't have what it takes. Didn't have the...resilience to face it."
"To face what, Mr. Forester."
The old man gave a small smile. "Life." He shook his head. "I honestly don't know how you all do it. So much expected of you, so much demanded. Contribute, toil, be fruitful and multiply. Restrain yourself, conform to the majority, control your impulses. It was...suffocating. I went around feeling like my head was wrapped in a blanket, always short of breath, always blind and senseless. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. No one but the system. I realized freedom was within reach, if I would only pay a price."
"You found freedom in jail?" Gurira asked, disregarding the survey all together.
Forester shook his head. "Prison was the price. But it's all been leading up to now."
The old man leaned in over the table, and spoke softly. "I told you the truth when I said I had no plans to commit a crime. But the option is mine now, isn't it? I have found freedom. *Real* freedom. No obligations, now expectations except the expectation that I will commit the vilest of offenses. No. I am *free*. I can do whatever I please, whenever I please, wherever I please. I have a *choice*. Choice with nothing but dubious moral consequence attached to it." He leaned back, and for the first time, Gurira saw a hint of self-satisfaction in his smile. "Can you think of any freer existence?"
|
It was a tough time within the state penitentiary jail. But after all these years, Jerry was finally out. He had stayed in the hole for 50 long years, doing hard time, so that he could murder his brother Daniel, and other random people who he thought was also worth the time.
Jerry breathed the cold air as he walked out of the gates which kept him hidden and isolated from the rest of the world. His one thought was the hospital, which kept his brother dying from terminal cancer. His brother informed him of all the therapy that he had undergone and made sure that this information was communicated to his brother Jerry.
In the taxi to the hospital, Jerry thought about his life, if it had been worth the time. What if it wasn't his brother's time to go? As the taxi pulled to the hospital, a shiver ran down his spine.
It *was* time.
He slowly walked to the reception desk and asked to see his brother Daniel. They escorted him to the room and allowed the two their privacy.
"So you have finally come."
Daniel said is a weak and croaky voice.
Jerry stared at him blankly and said nothing.
"You know, goverment policy is why we need to do it this way, if there had been another way, im sure we would've found it." Daniel spitted with exhaustion.
Jerry, standing over his brother's frail and weakend body, started to weep.
"Please end my suffering brother, end the suffering of all people who cant do it themselves but want to, you are our salvation, our hero"
Jerry looked at his brother, "I love you brother, please say hi to mother and father for me." Daniel replied, "I will, I will" with a smile and a single tear rolling down his withered face.
Jerry then pulled the plug on his brother's respiration machine, staying there until his brother's last dying breath.
| 2016-02-23T18:24:54 | 2016-02-23T17:26:21 | 843 | 110 |
[WP] You're the last god left alive in an abandoned heaven, unable to leave or start a new pantheon. The last demon drops by to hang out sometimes.
It should read 'last god left', but hey, the 'alive' can stay I guess.
|
The Demon knocked.
"Come in!" called the God.
She came in.
The room was warm as a cuddle. A little stone fireplace flickered lazily in the corner. The God sat in front of his coffee table on a pristine, antique sofa, one of only two seats in the room. This was heaven, or what was left of it. This was heaven, and it was 12x15.
He didn't look up when the Demon entered. He knew who it was, because it couldn't possibly be anyone else. That, and he was too engrossed in his book. His eyes scanned furiously behind the foggy frames of his reading spectacles.
The Demon kicked off her shoes and flopped into the plush chair opposite him.
"I brought snacks. Interested?"
She waved a pair of foil packets in the air. They were a gaudy things that glimmered in the fire-light.
"I'll pass I think. What are those?"
"Nokbus Potato Chips! Chili and Sewage flavour!"
"I've... never heard of that brand before."
She tore open a bag
"Try *one* chip, you won't regret it!"
"I'm sceptical of that."
"Oh come *on.* You won't ever get another chance to eat one after 8 AM GMT."
"I... What happens then?"
She grinned with all her teeth.
"Johnny wakes up for school!"
"These come from a dream." It was barely a question.
"Yep! Very limited, and super delicious! Kid has a great imagination!"
"You shouldn't mess around in people's dreams."
"Try a chip."
"I'm alright, just put them on the table," the God said, returning to the book. The demon placed a packet on the coffee table, closer to his side. She started consuming her own packet voraciously.
Some time passed in silence. The Demon stared at the back of the God's book.
"So what's C++?" she asked between greedy bites.
"It's a programming language. Computer stuff."
"Why are you trying to learn a programming language?"
The God sighed. He closed the book with purpose and placed it gently by the unreal snack, that was already rapidly fading from existence. He considered throwing the Demon an irritated look. The kind that would communicate supreme annoyance at the interruption of his excercise in autodidacticism. But the truth is, he couldn't understand any of it before she arrived, and he was desperate for a break.
"For a few decades now mortals have been making prayers about... digital things. 'Please help me fix this bug,' 'Please give me the power to make my code more efficient,' that kind of thing. Problem is I'm powerless to answer them until I properly understand the medium. Sure, I can *break* a machine easily enough, or offer a surge of power, ex nihilo. I can even fix the simpler UI issues that plague non-experts. But anything at a higher threshold of complexity is impossible for me right now."
The demon cocked her head very slightly. She had finished her chips now, or in any case they were finished.
"I know you're going to say," the God said, pre-emptively "That I haven't actually answered a prayer in a few thousand years anyway."
"I wasn't going to say that."
"Well you were thinking it."
"Well it's true."
"I *know.*" the God said, tired, "But being unprepared isn't an option for me now. You know that. I'm not *a* God, I'm *the* God. Just because the world has gotten by okay for a few millenia without an intervention, doesn't mean it's going to stay that way forever. If something happens that needs my attention, I need to be effective. I mean, have you *seen* the things they can do now with computers? Practically everything is computerised!"
The demon put a hand on his knee and flashed a friendly smile.
"Calm down.
"-and they have all these, all these *weapons!* And they're all computerised!"
"I know about the weapons. Calm down."
He calmed down. The God slumped in his chair and closed his eyes, enervated. It occured to the Demon that he looked very old. He was very old, of course. But now he looked it.
"I just... feel like I might be hitting the boundaries of my ability. And that scares me. Maybe even a God can't know everything. We wouldn't know before because no-one tried it, not like this. But maybe even a deity's hard drive has limited storage space."
"Well I've never heard a metaphor like that out of your mouth, so you're learning something."
The God chuckled despite himself.
"I didn't come here to talk about weapons and computers, you know. You're being awfully boring."
"Oh, your book!" the God shot up at once, "How *is* that going?"
"It's good. I'm back to about... uh, pre-stone age, I think."
The God regarded her warmly.
"A complete history of the supernatural world." the God exclaimed, "You really are incredible for taking up a project like that. And doubly so for seeing it through so far."
"Don't make me blush, it'll wake up a volcano or something. Anyway, you're always cooped up here learning about boondoggles, and somebody had to do it."
"I mean it. It will be a treasure for the ages. When we... I mean, if we ever pass on into the void, this will survive us, and keep our story alive for the earthbound ones."
"We're of one mind there, if nothing else," she said. They were clasping each others' hands now, though neither could tell you when they had started doing it.
"But," she added, "I actually need your help."
"Anything for the project."
"Well," she paused, "It's about you actually."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. So, you know how I'm writing it in reverse chronological order?"
"Yes, how could I forget that flash of genius! Every religion is a search for origins, yet each before has clumsily loaded the biggest reveal, the most beautiful truth, right at the start of the narrative! Of course the story of our genesis must necessarily be a hurtling *backwards!* A perfect mirror of time! A reflected-"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, I'm a genius. But I need you to help me. See, I've just got past the part where you absorbed the God of Fire-Making."
"Oh yes, I remember it well! What a mess that was. Fireboy just couldn't cut it for some reason, went quite mad. Of course no-one would have predicted that it would ultimately lead to me being god of the Forge too. You weren't privy to them but we had quite the debate about whether that honour should go to me or to the then-God of Minerals. His argument was that forging metals was essentially an extension of his function as the deity of all metals. Preposterous! The forge is essentially *transformative!* A sword is no more a mere mineral than a coat is a fox!"
"I heard about that. But listen, I know before then you absorbed the God of Wolves for a while, and were also the God of Poison Berries, right?"
"Yes, I almost forgot about that latter title. That was more fun that it sounds, honestly." the God was in a nostalgic mood now. "You know, it's one of those things you think will never come up. Once people learn which berries they can't eat, there's little reason to think about the issue further. But every once in a while you just get the most *delicious* assassination attempts, and-"
"I need to ask you something. And it's embarassing."
"Mm?" he looked her in the eyes, properly. Hers were bulging.
"I... I can't remember what you were. First."
"What?"
"Before all the switching and absorbtion. Before the bureacracy and the God-wars. Before all the fucking religions."
Her voice was musical now. It had split, and she was speaking in harmonies.
"I can't remember. I can't remember what you were when we were new. I can't remember what you were when there was nothing else to be. At the start. In The Beginning. Once Upon A Time.
"What I'm asking you is... what are you the God *of?"*
He stared at her. A bead of sweat dipped below her brow. Her eyes were wide and desperate. She looked to him just like a hunted deer, back when he was the God of Wolves, and a few other things.
He whispered his answer, but he could have easily screamed it.
"I don't remember."
|
"The stories."
"Really?"
"Of course. A god receives a prayer, and the mortal's life is splayed out like a manuscript. Like a story that started with an idea. Or a whim. Then life did it's thing, and became more."
"Or less. Plenty of bad ideas and poor impulses went around."
"Some ideas are worth entertaining."
"And that's how you lost your pantheon."
"Worth it, I think. Perfection is cheap. Divinity is dull. Why repeat what we know, when there was so much more we didn't?"
"'We?'"
"You understand what I mean. Those imperfections. The broken things I left for the mortals to do as they pleased. And how they'd piece them together, meshing and mashing for meaning with what little time they had... it was wonderful. Sometimes, they got frustrated."
"I know."
"And that's when they prayed. 'Why me?' 'Why her?' 'Why here?' 'Why ---"
"You don't have to list all of them."
"But I do. Well, did. It doesn't matter anymore. I knew them all once. Every story. Every idea. Mortality was fun while it lasted."
"So you were left here to think on what you've done."
"Yes."
"For eternity."
"And counting."
"With only a demon for company."
"I still don't regret what I did."
"But, the stories."
"What about them, demon?"
"You said that's what you will miss the most."
"I do."
"And yet you keep, *sharing* them with me. No matter how often I come, or how much I torment you --- how much I *despise* you --- you keep giving me stories."
"Yes. And I think I've ran out."
"Has it been that long?"
"Yes. You now have every story, from every idea and whim before I was cast out."
"That's rich. Cast out to heaven."
"Not my heaven."
"Ah. So, now that I have all your stories and ideas... wait, I can't have all your ideas, you're still here!"
"I know. There is one idea left. Right now, that's all I am."
"Why give me all your manuscripts? These prayers and questions, I don't deserve them!"
"Demon, for your company, consider it my first gift."
"Your first?"
"Yes. For my second, use this heaven as you'd like. I'm done with it. It's too big for me."
"How? You're a god, you *can't* be done being one!"
"Sure I can. I can do anything."
"Just another thing I hate about you!"
"I have one more gift."
"No, stop it."
"It's an idea. The last one I have, and the first one you'll entertain."
"Why me?!"
"For your mercy. In our time together, I've been able to unload. Now I won't have to wait for eternity to pass on."
"Don't."
"You'll make a great god. Listen. The heavens and the earth are already there for you, as they were left when it ended. Just say the words, and you can start again for me."
"You'll perish."
"My last idea. Say it."
"I won't. I'll mess up!"
"Then learn as you go. Please. I'm done."
"... Let there be light."
-------------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
| 2016-03-26T08:41:13 | 2016-03-26T07:46:15 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] On the run from mercenaries, a young girl stumbles into an old Greek temple and in a last ditch effort to save herself, begs for help from whichever god or goddess it belongs to. She didn't expect them to show up in person.
|
I didn't know where i was anymore. My legs felt like lead, and my lungs we're on fire. It was starting to get dark so i figured i had under an hour to make it back to the cruise ship before it left port. My family was probably worried sick. After all, I did ditch them halfway through the day to be on my own.
"There she is!" a grunted voice yelled behind me. I ducked through a crowd of tourists and flanked through some bushes into an open field. In the middle of the field were some broken down ruins which consisted of six or seven free standing century old columns. Beyond that was another group of about 100 tourists taking pictures behind a fence. "If i can get into that group of people, i might be able to get them off my trail...." i desperately thought to myself as i sprinted across the field.
As soon as i reached the ruins i took a brief moment to stop and catch me breath. I looked behind me but the four police officers or who ever they were seemed to have lost me. "I finally got them off my trail" I told myself while bending down gasping the air from exhaustion. But as soon as i turned to walk towards the large mass of tourists was when my heart stopped. Right in front of them facing me were four female police offers, all identical in look. Long black flowing hair, blue police uniform and black raybans. I instantly turned to run the direction I came but my luck finally ran out.
One of the officers pulled out her gun and shot me twice in the back of the leg. I let out a startling scream as I dropped to the floor at the edge of a column. Blood was flowing down my leg as the officers started closing in. With all hope practically lost I decided to try one more idiotic thing. "Please...so-someone p-please help me.." I cried out with tears flowing down my face. Almost instantly an explosion of silver light illuminated in front of me.
When I opened my eyes i couldn't believe what i saw. In front of me was a college age looking man, with curly brown hair, a white toga and winged sandles.
"Well isn't this a surprise!" the man said with a large grin on his face. "I haven't been here in like 3,000 years or so...dang, ya'll did an awful job keeping up with the place" he exclaimed while laughing.
"Anywho, Zues is busy at the moment so I'll relay your message for him" he said joyfully.
"wh-wh-what?" I tried to say the best I could.
"Oh man haha, looks like you've gotten yourself in quite a pickle! What is that? One of those modern day arrow heads lodged in your leg? Bullets i think? " The curly hair man said scratching his head while kneeling over me.
"Oh well, your in luck, I have just the thi-" "HERMES" a voice bellowed from behind me. When i looked the direction of the voice, i saw the four police women merge into one.
"Athena?! Your here to? No way! What a small wo-" "SHUT IT" Athena yelled as pointed she pointed the gun at Hermes head.
"This *mortal* thought she had the audacity to steal from my temple's gift shop and get away with it!" Athena yelled while giving me a murderous look.
"Really Athena?... Really? Your expecting *me* the God of thieves to feel remorse for this girl for stealing from you?!" Hermes said as he stood up, gun still aimed at his head
"I mean honestly, do you not have anything better to do than to protect your dumb washed up temple? That was *so* 3,000 years ago! Get with the times!" he said rolling his eyes.
"Don't you **dare** tempt me in my own city fool" Athena said back firmly.
"Or what! What are you going to do huh? Call your daddy down and complain that the mortals haven't built a city dedicated to you in centuries? What a spoiled brat!" Hermes mocked Athena back.
"At least I have a city named after me you-". Just then a flash of gold lightning erupted from the sky touching the ground right in between them all. In the place the lightning touched, was an older looking man, with long fierce white hair and flowing beard. Instead of wearing white tunic or police uniform he was wearing what looking like a million dollar tuxedo.
"WHAT ARE YOU TWO BICKERING ABOUT!" the old man yelled angrily. "I WAS TRYING TO ENJOY MY DATE NIGHT WITH HERA WHEN YOU **IMBECILES** INTERRUPTED IT!!" he continued with sparks flying out of his body.
"What. The. *Hell. Is. Going On."* I yelled out interrupting there little argument. "Who are you people, what's happening and why did you freaking chase me around town trying to kill me for five hours just for stealing a stupid blanked!" I screamed.
"uh this is my boss and Athena's dad Zues!" Hermes said as if I should have already known that.
"Who is she?" Zues said just now noticing I was laying here with blood pouring out of my leg. "and what is she doing in my old temple? I thought the mortals forgot about us years ago?"
"Athena here, chased her down to your temple and attempted to murder her for stealing from her temple gift shop" Hermes said proudly.
"Athena is this true?" Zues responded.
"Yes dad" she said looking at the ground as if guilty.
"Your grounded for a decade young lady. As for you Hermes, your suspended from a week, come back to Olympus immediately! Oh and send this mortal girl back home with her family Don't worry about wiping her memory, no one will ever believe her." Zues said. Then my vision when dark. When I woke up, i was back on the cruise ship the next morning. I looked down at my leg and saw a nasty scar where the bullet hole was. "Oh my darling, what happened to your leg?" my mom said startling me.
"You don't want to know mom, trust me"
|
"Well this is a surprise. No one has come to this shrine in thirty years."
Of course I'm on the run from mercenaries who have just slaughtered my whole village, but apparently that was not the weirdest thing the gods planned for today. Standing in front of me was Nemesis.
"Why are you here? No one talks to ME anymore."
"I'm so sorry, my lady, it's just these guys sort of killed everyone I know and they were about to kill me to and-"
"Slow down. I will assist. Thank you for thinking to pray to me, I haven't have fun in a while."
I'm not going to tell her I didn't know this was her's, and she went right up to the army.
THEN SHE KIND OF KILLED EVERYONE AND YEAH REVENGE I GUESS BUT STILL
She came back over to me with blood on her silky robes. She used a wheel for a cart to kill them which is brutal.
"Did this give you justice? Because it certainly brought me satisfaction. Let me know if you need more help in the future."
I blinked and she was gone.
| 2020-06-15T19:56:48 | 2020-06-15T19:33:10 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] Every Wednesday for the past 5 years you have received an envelope of cash. The envelopes always contain exactly $800 with the same note "You will understand some day"
|
Long time, first time. Hope you guys like it:
------------------
$800 a week. $41,000 a year. All in all, a little more than $200K.
To some people that's a fortune. To most I know, it’s a nice bonus on top of an already-bloated corporate salary. For me? It was just enough to completely change my life. For better and for worse.
Now, we’re not talking about fuck you money. I still had to work…. still have to work. I’m in the same job I was when the envelopes started showing up in my mailbox every week. Still underpaid, still under-appreciated, still just a low man on the totem pole in my lab. An engineer working for a bunch of eggheads. But it was tax-free, no questions asked money. Just enough money to give me a little freedom. To make me think differently. To open my eyes.
I was understandably a little nervous when it started. I mean, shit: Who wouldn’t be? An envelope, in my mailbox, every single week. No return address, posted locally. Eight crisp hundred dollar bills. And that same note, every damn time; a single line in sans serif font, centered and swimming in white space on a crisply folded sheet of paper: “You will understand some day.”
The first time I read it, every hair on my body stood at attention. Who writes something like that? A super villain? A shitty fortune teller? It was foreboding, mysterious, but there was something about it that I couldn’t put my finger on. Even that first time, it felt like deja vu. It’s almost funny now.
That feeling faded. Not all at once, but over time. Proof that anything can become mundane if you do it enough times. I made a few half-hearted attempts to figure out where it came from, but they never amounted to much. To be honest, I almost didn’t want to know.
I still didn’t spend a dime of it for two months, terrified that the minute I did, the magic would run out, or the bill would come due. So it built up, in a pile under my mattress. Yeah, I know it’s cliche, but what was I going to do? I wasn’t comfortable putting it in the bank.
The first time I used some of the money it was for was a girl. Of course it was for a girl. One I’d been noticing at work for years, with long red hair, glasses at the end of her nose, an infectious laugh, and christ was she smart. I’d worked with her for years, but only recently gathered up the courage to start talking to her. Maybe it was the money? The little bit of confidence it bought me? And somehow, she bought my tired rap and agreed to go out with me. The way I saw it, I had one shot. I had to make it count.
Love makes you do crazy things. Like spend the money you’ve been hoarding from a mysterious benefactor on dinner and front row tickets to see Bruce Springsteen with the Jersey girl from five desks over. I’d never spent that much on one night in my life. But it was worth it. She was worth it. That date - it was perfect - it led to so many others, led to a relationship, a shared apartment and, eventually, to a teary proposal. A little over a year ago, I put a ring on her finger. (And guess how I paid for THAT?) A knockout quantum physicist from Jersey agreeing to marry a simple, electrical engineer from the Chicago suburbs. What are the odds?
The money didn’t just help with my love life. With my girlfriend-now-fiancee's encouragement, I paid for a couple of night classes at the university we worked at. I’d always been interested, but now I had motivation. She made me curious, made me want to be better. We’d lay in bed after work talking about her projects. Day by day, the impenetrable jargon I’d been hearing every day for years at my job started to shift and fall into place. I listened less, questioned more. Began to understand and, with her gentle guidance, to start to see the same possibilities she did. One night, as we talked through the latest roadblock in her research, she put the book down, looked at me with one of her wry smiles, and said: “You’ve got a knack for this, you know?” I tried to deflect, to aw shucks it away, but she insisted. “This isn’t easy stuff. It’s theoretical, unproven. But you. You’re taking to it like a duck to water. Like you were born to it."
With a smile, I pushed our notes away, and took her in my arms. “What can I say? I have the best teacher...”
It wasn’t long after that night that the headaches started.
We didn’t think much of them at first. Her job was stressful - grant money was always close to drying up, papers in constant peer review… it could get to anybody. It wasn’t until the seizures started a few weeks later that we were clued in that something was wrong. Very wrong.
Brain cancer. Stage 4. So sorry. Nothing we can do. Still years away from understanding how to treat it.
I only heard every few sentences out of the doctor’s mouth. All I knew was that before I even had it, this perfect person, this thing that completed my life was being taken away.
But I had motivation. I had her research. And most importantly, I had the money.
By day, I took care of her, nursed her through her rapidly declining health. Paid for what insurance wouldn’t cover. By night, and on weekends I locked myself in our garage, funding my own increasingly complex experiments. Building machines that pushed her research farther along. Getting closer to a breakthrough that would maybe, possibly give us a chance. Give HER a chance.
She never would have agreed to this. The research was theoretical at best, a sci fi fantasy at worst. The machines I was building, they could have browned out an entire power grid or, worse, leveled a city block. But it didn’t matter. I had to save her.
Two nights ago, after six months of work, I finished it. It took every last dollar I had saved. I plugged the last components into the machine, went back inside to kiss her… goodnight? goodbye?… and then stood at the control panel and switched it on.
The light was blinding. There was this sucking sound, like all the air was pulled from the room. And then a massive clap, followed by dim buzzing. And there it was: A door was open. Not just a door. A rip in time.
I paused on the precipice, and then stepped through.
“Oh thank god. You figured it out. Just like I remembered."
I was in a room that looked like my garage… no, it was my garage, but in place of the shoddy, hastily built contraption I had just turned on, there were gleaming machines all around me.
And there, standing at the controls… it couldn’t be, but it was. Greyer at the temples, a little rounder at the waist, but undeniable, without question.
It was me.
We stood there for a pregnant second. There were hundreds of questions I wanted to get to. Urgent questions. But before I could ask a single one, he spoke.
“I’m so sorry for what comes next. You… we….worked so hard. This part was the hardest to understand. And I don't think we've ever gotten over it. But it was still worth it. You'll see. We're going to change the world.”
I looked at him, for a beat, searching his face for a clue. And then I understood. And crumpled to a knee.
There was no cure. Price paid.
|
“Excuse me Sir, is this yours?” I asked the man sitting beside me at the bus stop, “It was on the ground here. Did you drop it?”
The man looked at the $100 bill I held out to him and sighed. “Nah, never have big bills like that.”
At first glance he seemed to be a scruffy hygienically-challenged homeless man but like most people in this area of town, he was probably on his way home from working a backbreaking job outdoors. The tired looking man looked old, but his youth still twinkled in his eyes.
“Well, it's not mine either, and I don't see anyone else to whom it may belong. So apparently it does not belong to anyone...” I hesitate to continue, not wanting to insult him." Would you like to keep it? It was just dumb luck that I happened to see it at the right time and place, but to be honest I really don't need it. I've had more than my share of luck and would enjoy passing it onto someone else for a change... It's yours if you want it.”
The man eyed me suspiciously. “This a joke?”
“No no, seriously, have it. Take it and give it to someone else if you want. Or donate it to some organization.” I place the bill on the bench beside him.
“Wow. Geez. Well, thanks... uh... I don't like taking without giving.” He searches through his pockets until he finds what he's looking for. Embarrassed, he says “Here, have this. It'll all I got right now. It's nothing, maybe in your 'lucky' hands... you never know.” He smiles and glances up. His bus is here. He takes the $100 bill from the bench and replaces it with some kind of card.
“Thanks, g'bye!” he says as he gets on the bus.
The card he left behind is some kind of scratch and win lottery ticket, unlike any I had ever seen. “Win! Anything! Everything! Your imagination is the limit! How's your luck today?” it says, with one large scratch and win box. The backside is blank without the usual rules, regulations, and disclaimers.
Hesitantly, I start scratching at the box. It takes a while to get it completely uncovered, but eventually I make out:
“YOU WIN!!! You are the recipient of $800 a week, every week for the past 5 years. The final payment was made last Wednesday. Congratulations!”
When I catch my breath, it starts to dawn on me that my luck has run out. I think back on how I've used my 'winnings': the amount I've spent, saved and given away. Did I use it wisely?
I ponder this as my bus arrives and nervously step forward into my new reality.
| 2016-09-06T15:19:53 | 2016-09-06T14:48:45 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts.
|
FADE IN:
INT. A CORPORATE BOARDROOM – DAY
*Several men and women in suits sit around a large table, all of them looking bored. At the front of the room, a man with a white beard flicks at the black eyepatch that he wears. This is ODIN.*
**ODIN:** You know, I was supposed to get the wisdom of the ages.
*Halfhearted murmurs are offered by everyone at the table.*
**ODIN:** (*CONT'D*) There I was, thinking I'd be granted some kind of sublime knowledge. Do you know what I got?
*A blond-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard sighs. This is THOR.*
**THOR:** A bunch of old wives' tales and some herbal remedies?
**ODIN:** A bunch of old... hey!
**THOR:** And when you asked for a refund, Mimir told you to...
*A breathtakingly beautiful woman – SIF – interrupts.*
**SIF:** (*Interrupting*) He told you to go sit on a glacier.
**ODIN:** Now, look, if you people are just going to...
*A sudden flash of light interrupts Odin. When the room's illumination returns to normal, a very confused young man is revealed. This is DAVE. He is clad in a pink apron and is clutching a black spatula.*
**ODIN:** (*CONT'D*) ... huh. That hasn't happened in a while.
**DAVE:** Yeah, I'm reasonably certain that pancakes aren't normally supposed to do that.
**SIF:** Do what?
**DAVE:** I'm not sure. What just happened?
*A middle-aged woman grins with glee. This is HEL.*
**HEL:** You died!
**DAVE:** I think I'd remember that.
**THOR:** No, that's definitely what happened.
*Dave glances around.*
**DAVE:** Heaven looks really boring.
**THOR:** This is Valhalla.
**DAVE:** Valhalla looks really boring. Why am I in Valhalla?
**ODIN:** Good question. Only warriors who die in battle are supposed to come here.
**DAVE:** You must get a lot of soldiers, then.
**SIF:** Actually, no, we don't. See, you *don't* have to die in battle; you have to die holding a weapon.
**DAVE:** Soldiers carry guns! Guns are weapons!
**HEL:** Not according to Section Nine, Paragraph Four of the Valhalla Bylaws!
*Everyone in the room save for Dave and Hel groans with impatience.*
**DAVE:** The what?
**THOR:** Don't encourage her.
**HEL:** According to our charter, a weapon is an object which renders injury or death.
**DAVE:** ... So, a gun?
**HEL:** No, a bullet.
**DAVE:** That seems like a remarkably stupid technicality.
**THOR:** *You're* a remarkably stupid technicality!
**ODIN:** He might be, actually.
*All eyes in the room turn to face Odin.*
**SIF:** Huh?
**ODIN:** Well, what's that in his hand?
**DAVE:** It's a spatula.
**ODIN:** I know it's a spatula... but what *is* it?
**THOR:** ... A spatula.
**ODIN:** You're not getting it. What *is* a spatula?
*A sudden thought seems to occur to Dave.*
**DAVE:** Hang on! Why does Valhalla look like an office building?
**HEL:** We had to redefine a pen as weapon a few decades ago.
**DAVE:** Because it's mightier than the sword?
**HEL:** Because a disgruntled accountant stabbed his coworker with one.
**DAVE:** Oh. I take it he lost that fight.
**THOR:** He...
**DAVE:** (*Interrupting*) Since he died, I mean.
**THOR:** He actually slipped and hit his head while running away.
**SIF:** He wouldn't stop screaming, so we redesigned Valhalla to make him calm down.
**DAVE:** And... what? You just kept it this way?
**HEL:** (*Shrugging*) Eh.
*Odin slams his fist on the table.*
**ODIN:** Enough! I swear, you people will drone on about the dullest things!
**THOR:** (*Muttering*) You mean like trading your eye for a chicken soup recipe?
**ODIN:** Now, for the last time: What is a spatula?
*Several seconds of silence pass.*
**THOR:** It's...
**ODIN:** (*Interrupting*) Don't say "a spatula."
**THOR:** Well, it is.
**SIF:** You mean... are you asking if it counts as a weapon?
**ODIN:** Finally! Yes.
**THOR:** You could have been direct about it.
**ODIN:** (*In a mocking voice*) "You could have been direct about it." Shut up.
**THOR:** You're an ass.
**HEL:** I think it counts as a weapon.
**SIF:** Odin's ass?
**THOR:** Only after taco night.
**HEL:** *The spatula!*
**SIF:** Is it forged from celestial iron or something?
*Dave examines his spatula.*
**DAVE:** No, I think it's just plastic.
**HEL:** It counts! It can render injury or death!
**DAVE:** Hey, my pancakes aren't *that* bad!
**HEL:** We are not concerned with your pancakes; we're talking about the spatula.
**SIF:** Do you ever say a word so often that it starts to sound funny?
**THOR:** Spa-tu-la.
**ODIN:** Spa-tuuuuu-la.
**SIF:** Spaaaaa-tu-la.
**DAVE:** (*Shouting*) Confused! *Confused!*
*Dave closes his eyes and starts waving his spatula in front of him. It smacks on the top of Odin's head several times.*
**ODIN:** Ow! Ow! Stop it! Stop it! Ow!
**HEL:** There! See?! That's an injury!
*Dave stops flailing and opens one eye.*
**DAVE:** Oh, god, sorry, I...
**THOR:** (*Interrupting*) Odin.
**DAVE:** What?
**ODIN:** What?
**THOR:** No, not... ugh. He said "god." That's the other guy.
**SIF:** Technically, it's an unspecified deity. You're thinking of Jehovah.
**HEL:** It's "Yeshua" now.
**THOR:** No, that's his son. We go drinking on Tuesdays.
**ODIN:** When *don't* you go drinking? Lazy layabout.
*Thor snatches the spatula from Dave and brandishes it at Odin.*
**THOR:** You want to go, old man? Huh?
**SIF:** (*To Hel*) Huh, look at that. I guess you're right.
**HEL:** That settles it. The spatula is a weapon.
*Odin snatches the spatula from Thor and whacks him over the head with it.*
**ODIN:** Any more like that out of you, and you're grounded!
*Thor sits back and sulks. Odin turns the spatula over in his hands a few times.*
**ODIN:** (*CONT'D*) I mean... I guess. Sure, why not? It's better than that stupid pen.
**HEL:** That was plastic, too, by the way.
*Odin hands the spatula back to Dave, who looks uncertain.*
**DAVE:** So, uh... does that mean I'm staying?
**HEL:** It looks that way.
**SIF:** Yeah, welcome to Valhalla, I guess.
**DAVE:** Great. Now that everything is cleared up, I just have one question.
**THOR:** The bathroom is down the hall.
**DAVE:** Huh? Oh, no, thanks, but I was actually curious about something else.
**ODIN:** What troubles you, warrior?
*Dave takes a deep breath.*
**DAVE:** How the hell did I even die?!
*Hel takes out her smartphone and scrolls through something.*
**HEL:** It looks like the batter mix you used was contaminated... with cyanide.
**DAVE:** ... That seems incredibly unlikely.
**HEL:** Well, that's what happened.
**THOR:** I guess your pancakes *were* that bad!
*Dave stares at Thor for a moment, then whacks him with the spatula.*
CUT TO BLACK.
|
"My lord, you must understand this is no ordinary spatula." I said
standing in front of the mighty Odin and his board. How did I even get into this situation? My whole life I have been the mightiest of warriors, fought countless battles, outsmarted the smartest opponents. Yet here I stand, with a spatula in my hand. I suppose in my old age I became complacent. When you've fought as many battles as I have you can get complacent. It has been years since I have been truly challenged. Not only through brute strength, but through wit and intelligence. There is no one who could create a better battle plan than me. I have faced giants and cyclops, 100 times my size. Yet they all fell the same as the smallest man. It was my intelligence and ability to think on the spot that has saved me more times than my sword and it's what will save me now.
"I see nothing special about this spatula. There is no denying you were a mighty warrior, but your arrogance cost you. Ignoring a call to arms to make an omelette is not honorable. Your ignorance caused you to lower your guard and be killed in your own kitchen." Odin replied.
"I know it seems that way my lord, but I was not preparing food. I was retrieving my mightiest weapon. You see this is no ordinary spatula. This is a Hydrodynamic Spatula with port and starboard attachments, and let's not forget the turbo drive!" I replied. "With this weapon even the mightiest of demons have fallen."
The board looked at me dumbfounded, but they hadn't stopped me. This is my only shot and I have to sell this.
"You see my lord, this is the only one of it's kind in existence. It has been passed down from the descendants of...King Neptune. The mighty guardian of the bottom of the sea. It has been used to feed armies as well as defeat the dreaded...nematodes!" I spat out. "You see the nematodes were a dreaded race of creatures. They would travel in packs of hundred and destroy a village by consuming all it's resources. After they were done they would leave the villagers to starve. Until one day, a mighty warrior arose to stop them. The great warrior Bob lord of the Sponge. With his specially square suit and the hydrodynamic spatula with port and starboard attachments..."
"Don't forget the turbo drive" Interrupted Odin.
"Yes the turbo drive of course. Well the Lord of the Sponge was able to defeat the entire army and save his village. All done with this weapon. So you see my lord, this is no spatula. This is a weapon fit for a God. The defender of the sea, the protector of village resources, this is the ultimate weapon!" I shouted. The room grew quiet. Odin began to converse in whispers with his advisors. I stood there in silence, my knuckles white gripping this damn spatula.
"In lieu of this new information the board has decided to allow you entry into Valhalla. As well as take the hydrodynamic spatula, with port and starboard attachments and turbo drive , and keep it in Asgard. It will sit amongst Mjolnir and Gungnir. It will be studied and understood to harness it's power." Odin said.
I can't believe this worked. By the time they realize it's just a regular spatula I'll be in Valhalla. Who knows, maybe they can turn it into a weapon. It did just save my life so it can't be all bad.
"Warrior, we thank you for bringing this power weapon to our attention. With this the armies of Asgard can only get stronger. Now, it is time for you to take your place in Valhalla. Shall we go?" Odin said as he stood from his thrown to guide the way. There was only one thing I could say.
"I'm ready."
| 2022-11-15T16:07:01 | 2018-03-26T11:25:33 | 390 | 51 |
[WP] After several thousand years of gathering coins from passengers, Charon the Ferryman has finally saved up enough money to buy what he wanted.
|
The vessel that bobbed in the inky-black ocean was a cross between a pirate ship and a cruise liner. It was traditional in its makeup: masses of planking and billowing sails, but large enough to comfortably hold two hundred souls. There was an on-board casino, hot-spring jacuzzis, a theatre that could hold productions of all the great Greek plays, games for children, and far more besides.
Painted in white on both sides was: *The Crossing*.
It’d taken more than two thousand years for Charon to save up for this and it was worth every penny. For the first time since his death, Charon fizzed with happiness. Like the champagne bottle clutched in his boney fingers.
His old wooden raft floated pathetically at the grand ship’s side. Like those tiny fish that follow whales around and feast on their scraps.
Charon turned to the crowd of souls lined behind him.
“Welcome to the grand launch,” he said. “There’s never been a better time for you to die. Truly.”
The crowd murmured excitedly as Charon swung the champagne bottle against the boat’s prow, striking just below the Gorgon figurehead.
The glass splintered, the crowd roared. If Charon had skin on his skull, he would have smiled. As it was, he remembered what it felt like to smile — and in itself that was wonderful.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*
&#x200B;
Charon had taken the wheel and steered the passengers East — away from where they needed to reach. He wasn’t taking the souls across yet. Before judgement, they would have two nights of celebration.
He steered the ship through a series of dark caves, his vision attuned to the blackness, until they came out into a vast cavern. The water glittered red on the left side of the cavern, blue on the right — both patches bright, radiating enough light to glint on the diamond-studded rocks far above them.
The souls, those looking over the side, gasped at the sudden and unexpected beauty. Of the red and blue seas swirling into each other like ying and yang.
Passengers came up one by one to thank him.
“We couldn’t have asked for a more pleasant start to the afterlife,” said one lady, a cocktail in her hand.
”I thought I’d be scared,” said a guy. “Frightened as all hell. But you’ve made this experience so much fun.”
”Thank you,” they said.
Charon wasn’t such a sociable type. He preferred to hear the happiness of his passengers rather than be involved in it. He listened to the joyful or mildly annoyed cries from the casino. The laughter as someone told jokes on the theatre stage.
He lay the anchor in the middle of this cavern-ocean, where the two seas met and swirled, and sat on the deck, looking up at the crystal roof as if the glints of light were stars — as if everyone on board was free beneath the sky.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*
&#x200B;
The little girl had worn two coins in her eyes. Charon had peeled them off and pocketed them in his cloak. Behind them, her eyes were moss-green, moss-soft. They ran with tears as she stared at him, then at his little boat, and at the dark, scary cavern.
”Come,” he said, gesturing towards his raft. “I will take you across.”
”Where’s Mommy?” said the girl.
He held out a boney hand. “Come. I will take you across.”
The girl fell onto her knees and wept into the dirt.
He hated this. He despised being a figure of fear. And this child, she didn’t deserve to be here. To feel any of this fright.
“It’s not so bad,” he attempted. “There’s no more pain across the water. You will be judged, yes, but children are rarely guilty.”
It didn’t comfort her, of course.
He left the girl for a while, walking to one of the black trees that grew beneath the ground. With a knife, he carved out a palm-sized chunk. He held it and slowly whittled it into a familiar shape.
The girl had followed him. She wiped her eyes and watched as he worked.
Finally, he tore fabric from his cloak and dressed the doll in it. “For you,” he said, presenting the finished work.
The girl gingerly took it from him.
She played with the doll after they boarded the raft. It distracted her all the way across. She took it with her as she left, turning back only for a moment to wave goodbye.
He weakly returned the wave. Once she was out of sight, he looked at the patch of missing fabric. If he had tear ducts, he was certain he’d be crying.
He placed his hands in his pockets and counted the coins.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*
&#x200B;
Charon sat on deck and listened to the party.
He’d been a fisherman once, with his own family. That was until he’d displeased a god and gotten the eternal job of ferryman.
He knew fear and sadness and hope, and all other human emotions. Or at least he remembered them.
But he didn’t feel as many of those emotions now as he’d hoped for. Already the lustre of the new ship was failing him.
Yes, he was making it easier for others, and that was good. But in the end, he’d have to take them across still. In the end, they were dead and he was nothing more than the person who delivered them to their fate.
What he really wanted — needed — was a way out of this cave system. Was to be break through the rock wall and sail these souls back up into daylight.
To sail *his soul* back to daylight.
To his family.
Was that the truth of it, then? Had he done all this for himself, not for the passengers? Had the last two thousand years been for his own selfishness? A type of personal redemption, rather than wanting to help others. Was the fact that the lines crossed only coincidental?
There was no escape from his misery. That was clear. All around him, even in this great cavern, were walls. And the biggest, thickest wall of all was *time*. That was a wall he could never pass.
He’d been so scared of admitting that truth that he’d buried it as he’d saved his coins. Ignored the fact that he was deeply and truly terrified. That he’d never get to return. To see his family.
He thought of those fish again, the ones who followed whales and fed on their scraps. Was that all he did now? Fed on the scraps of joy these souls left for him? Taking them out to feed then feeding on the leftovers.
He let out a long, empty sigh and lay back against the wood and wished for time to swallow him.
&#x200B;
A long while later, two children came sprinting past him — one chasing the other, but both giggling. They were playing some kind of game. They might have been brother and sister, he wasn’t sure, but they looked similar.
They must have been near in age to his own children, back when he’d been forced to leave them.
He thought of the girl from years ago that he’d carved the doll for. Of how sad she’d been.
But these two children weren’t sad.
They weren’t in the least bit scared.
And he found strangely that — for now, at least — he wasn’t either.
Scraps or not, what mattered to the fish was that it filled them.
|
“What’s taking him so long? If he doesn’t get here soon, I might die of boredom.” Marcus said. His hands resting behind his neck, trying to get himself comfortable as he laid on the rocky terrain of the underworld. Watching the river Styx float before him with no sign of the Ferryman.
“I don’t think you can die of boredom if you’re already dead. What are you complaining about, anyway? At least you’re at the front of the line. I feel bad for those poor souls at the back. Imagine how long it will be before they get a ride.” Paula looked back at the line, noticing more souls joining the already weeklong queue of bodies.
“It’s an expression. Although I think I might be the first case of a dead person dying if this takes any longer. They could at least bring some complimentary bread or wine to eat while we are waiting.”
“Like at a fancy restaurant? Do souls even get hungry?” Paula wondered that. The whole time she had been waiting here, she hadn’t felt a need to eat or drink. Despite that, the thought of a nice glass of wine grabbed her interest. “I could go for an excellent red wine. Maybe one that has a hint of sweetness to it?”
“Or some freshly made bread? It’s probably a good thing we don’t get hungry. I would hate to see how violent a line like this could get if we added hunger and thirst to the mix.”
The two let out a sigh, looking longingly at the river. Surely Charon couldn’t be too much longer. From all accounts, the man was rather punctual, never missing a day of work. So, a gap like this had to be causing chaos throughout the underworld. Maybe he had worked long enough to earn himself a break, and they were just the unfortunate souls that died during that break?
Another three hours passed before a broad shadowy figure pushed through the fog of the river. Marcus jumped to his feet, edging closer to the water’s edge. It had to be Charon. Who else could traverse the river? As the figure neared, its features became more prominent. A gigantic, towering ship of metal had replaced the once tiny ferry. The deck of this ship having a pool, slides and even a bar. When the ship arrived near the waiting souls, everyone was too stunned to say anything, only staring at the tall figure on the ship’s deck. His glowing purple eyes looking longingly at the water before he turned to face the crowd.
“Charon the Ferryman?” Paula asked, being the first to break the stunned silence.
“No, Charon the Yachtman.” The ghostly voice answered.
| 2022-04-12T01:42:29 | 2022-04-12T01:20:37 | 1,213 | 345 |
[WP] Designing children is now possible. Your child is now a teenager and you are dealing with the consequences.
|
Helen was waiting when I got home and I could tell something was wrong as soon as I saw her. A knot formed in my lower intestine as I saw her eyes were red from crying. I tried remembering the last time I'd seen her cry. It was four years ago when her father died. She'd always been the stronger link in our chain and when something bothered Helen, it had a way of affecting everyone. I set my briefcase down near the doorway and sat next to her on the sofa. I could always change later and this was more important. If i'd done something wrong, I'd know immediately.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
I knew the answer would come whether I asked the question or not, but better to get things over with than draw them out. She turned her eyes to me and I could see the tears returning. It *wasn't* me, then. This was another problem. Then she patted the top of an old shoe box and the knot was replaced by a burning curiosity.
"It's Sam," Helen said.
Sam, our son. Sam the literal perfect child upon whom we'd spent thousands making sure he wouldn't ever *have* a problem. The geneticists assured us that he'd be exactly as we planned and we watched him blossom into the charismatic young teenager we expected him to be. He was never short of friends and seemed to blossom around others. There *couldn't* be something wrong with him. It wasn't possible.
"Sam?" I asked. "Sam, our son?"
"Yes, dammit," Helen said. She brushed at her cheeks and clung to the box as if it would simply vanish if she held onto it long enough.
"What's in the box?" I asked.
Helen handed it to me. It was heavier than I expected though I didn't know what would upset my wife so much. Pornography, perhaps? Hadn't we covered that in the design phase, though?
"Open it," Helen ordered.
I did so, finding loose pieces of paper, blueprints, maps, and a faded patch that sent chills up my spine. It was a remnant of the old government, the same corrupted machine that Helen and I had spent years protesting against. Though those days were far behind us, I could still hear the chants, smell the tear gas, and taste the copper of blood on a split lip. We'd had it easy compared to the cities along the coast. They were still cleaning up the mess even after all these years. We were just a couple of misguided of teenagers ourselves, fighting against what we thought had been a broken system. It turned out we were right, but the change had already been out of our hands, forcing it's way inevitably forward.
"I don't understand," I said, holding up a black armband with silver trim. "Benedict is gone. We *won*."
"Mom? Dad?" Sam said from the doorway. He was a tall boy, taller than I was with a face that could've been chiseled from the side of a mountain. "Is there something wrong?"
I held up the armband and watched his eyes quickly run through excuses. He was a smart boy and we'd found it difficult to stay ahead of him. It turned out there was little need to. Though mischievous, which was my fault for wanting him to have a sense of humor, he was also very well behaved to the point that our punishments never worked the way we expected. Obviously, he'd gotten away with more than we thought.
"Son, what is this?" I asked. I still hoped there was a rational explanation. Perhaps a research project or a collection that he knew we would've frowned upon. He knew the old stories, after all. There had to be an explanation.
"It's..." Sam sighed and sat down opposite his mother. "Have you ever felt like something was just missing from the world? Like there was still so much good that could be done if we weren't so bogged down by procedure..."
"Yes," Helen interrupted. "We fought against that very thing before you were born, but we won. There's no need for this *filth*."
Sam shook his head. "You've told me over and over about this *man* you expect me to become. You've been telling me since I was old enough to understand. Charisma, strength, intelligence..."
"Leadership and the ambition to fix what's wrong with the world," Helen finished. "But, we *have*, Sam. Things are different now."
"Your mother's right. We were young when we decided to have a family, and still scarred by the world. We thought we could change things for the better, that our contribution would matter. Every generation has their injustices, but our generation finally made things right. There's almost no crime anymore, most people who want a job have one, there's a transparency in our government that wasn't there when I was your age, and Benedict is little more than a scary story. There's nothing left to be done," I told him. The sight of the arm band brought back waves of panic, even after all these years. It was no wonder Helen had been crying. "This is wrong, Son."
"If it's wrong, then why does it *feel* right?" Sam asked. "I'm not alone in this, Dad. There are others and they believe as I do."
"Y-You..." Helen stuttered. I could see the panic rising in her as she realized as I did that he'd been culling followers. Benedict had started out the same way.
"You were meant to be a leader, to make things right," I said. "You could be mayor if you wanted. A senator, even..."
"The Mayor?" Sam laughed. "So I can spend my term arguing over every single piece of policy to make this city great? Are you that out of touch with reality?"
"But Benedict?" Helen choked back a cry.
"No, mother. I'm not going to bring back that monster. I know he hurt you and I promise that won't happen again. The pieces in that box are mere pieces of a puzzle I've been working to solve for some time now. To be honest, I'm a bit embarrassed I still had it. You weren't meant to find it," Sam said. His voice became soft and soothing. Then he snapped his fingers and three men I'd not seen before stepped into the living room. Their hands were around my arms before I could react and we were restrained before either of us could protest.
"Sam? What are you planning?" I asked before a gag was placed in Helen's mouth. I knew I was next.
"This is for your own good," Sam said. "I can't tell you what I have planned and I can't let you get in the way of what must happen."
"They're going to know I'm missing when I don't show up for work, Son. Don't do this. We can fix whatever this is," I begged.
"You mean your boss, Greg?" Sam grinned as a gag was placed in my mouth. "Do you really think you got that promotion because of your work ethic?"
"Sir..." One of the men interrupted.
"I know," Sam sighed. Then he stood and rose to his full height. "We're going to create a brave new world, father."
In that moment, I could see the monster we'd inadvertently created. He was a soldier fighting a war that had long been won. A man on the protest lines alone. In the folly of our youth, we'd created him to fix what *we* saw as being wrong in the world, not realizing that the younger generations rarely follow the designs of their parents.
"Sam..." I tried talking past the gag, but my son shushed me and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. He was everything we created him to be.
"There's so much work left to be done," Sam said and then he was gone.
I shuddered when I recognized the words.
It was the last words Benedict ever spoke.
|
A lot of people have really bratty kids. Not me.
In fact, originally I wasn't even going to have kids. I didn't want to deal with the screaming, the diapers, the drain of my time and money, basically all the reasons you hear from people who are childless. I wanted to explore the world, start my own business, have passionate romances, and then retire at 50. When people asked me when I was going to start a family, my face looked like they just asked me what time it was while on fire. It just didn't register as a rational question.
Then, when it was announced that we could now create perfect children however we wanted, I gave it a little more thought. *I'm 33*, I thought. *Who's going to take care of me when I get older? What about my family name? My legacy? I don't have all the time in the world, here.*
So, I went down to the labs and got started. They give you a massive control panel with buttons and sliders controlling every aspect of your child. I wanted a smart baby. But not too smart, I wanted them to be able to connect with others. So I slid the Intelligence slider to 87. I wanted my baby to be strong. But not too strong, I hated people who get caught up in their physical attributes over their personality and mind. So I slid the Strength slider to 80. But most of all, I wanted my baby to be self-sufficient, able to take care of itself. So I slid the Independence slider to 98.
I gave my baby perfect blue eyes. Soft, blonde hair. A high metabolism. Long eyelashes. Soft skin. Of course, mistakes were made. It took a lot of failed pregnancies and trips to the lab before I finally produced a baby that met my standards.
The first 10 years were a breeze. My child could change it's diaper within a few months, get groceries at age 5, and do the taxes by 9. I took all the trips I wanted, knowing that my baby was able to care for itself for as long as I needed it to. I gave my baby the perfect life. One I've wanted for as long as I've lived. It depended on no one. The fact that I didn't have to give it a lot of care was just a bonus.
So, I guess what I'm asking you, Dr., is why did it leave? I carried it for 9 months. I sacrificed my perfect life for it. I gave it *everything*. My baby's only 14. How does it think it can survive out there? I've called their cellphone and gotten no reply. I'm pretty sure their father knows where they are and he won't tell me. I don't understand how anyone could do this to their own *mother*.
I *need* my *baby*...
| 2015-08-24T10:25:18 | 2015-08-24T10:11:51 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] Jesus has come down from the heavens, but is actually just a chill guy. He is sitting and talking to fans in your city but when you walk to see the savior his relaxed expression fades and is replaced with smugness and at the same time anger. He looks at you and calmly goes, “Ah, the Antichrist”
|
“Ummm… I’m sorry…?”
You could have given me 100 years and a life time supply of religious texts and tutors and I never would have imagined my first conversation with Jesus would start this way. And while I had never really been religious my whole life, I wouldn’t say I was ever really “anti” anything.
“Oh, not yet.” He replied. The warmness of his presence and calmness of his tone was now a distant memory as he slowly stood with clenched fists. “But you will be. I thought I’d have a little more time to get acclimated on this planet before you’d show your face here.”
My face matched all those around me as they backed away in shock and confusion while He cracked his neck and rotated his shoulders, making his way around the table toward me. I couldn’t raise my hands in surrender fast enough as I did my best to keep the distance between us as far as it was or further, lurching back, shaking my head.
“No, sir, Please, you got it all wrong.” I pleaded. “I—I just wanted to shake your hand! Meet you in person and ask some questions, man! I’m not here to fight!”
“Oh, there won’t be a fight, son of Satan,” he said between the pops and cracks of his knuckles. “See, a fight indicates you had a chance. But you blew that option by coming at me head on. Now, its just gonna be a massacre.”
“Dude!” I yelled, scurrying amongst the people as they made a path for my fumbly retreat while he slowly closed the distance between us “I’m not anti ANYthing, let alone antichrist! What the hell?!” my words fell as short as my breath when he seized my throat, leaving me gasping.
“Your pops can answer that when you get back there.”
The sound of my cracking molars made me shiver as he struck me across the cheek with a right hook, sending me backwards before he caught my shirt and pulled me in to meet another thunderous punch in the face. I could feel the blood begin to pool in my mouth as he hit me again. And then again. Between the flashes white and red I caught glimpses on the faces of those around me, some smiling and cheering on the “justified” beatdown. Others, horrified and shielding their children’s faces. I didn’t know how he could make a mistake like this, but even in this moment of pain and humiliation, I couldn’t help but think…not like this. Not in front of kids.
The screech of tearing fabric sounded like music to my ears as it gave me a moments relief, allowing me to fall to the floor on my hands and knees. As I watched the blood puddle form on the ground between my heavy breathes, I began to weigh my options.
Running was probably out of the question as the people around us had grown too thick and numerous to break through.
The fetal position seemed like a good bet, but based on the force behind every punch from our lord and savior, the Golden Gates had to have a Golds Gym somewhere close by cause… dude could hit. Hard. Which meant I wouldn’t last long, anyway.
Fight back? Lord knows I wanted to. I’m not a professional fighter by an stretch of imagination. Last bout I got into was in 3rd grade, where one well placed gut punch sent me into a fury of tears and vomiting followed by an all day stay at the nurses office. So, all things considered, this was going marginally better. Plus, how you gonna beat a guy in one-on-one who’s got God on his side…?
Maybe it was the taste of his sandal knocking some sense into my brain through my teeth, but it became clear what the best play was from my limited options as the force rolled me onto my back, staring into the clouds in the sky, his dark shadow looming over me.
“Not very Christian of you…” I sputtered through blood and loose teeth.
His eyes went wide. The fury that had overtaken his face remained but with a slight sense of wonder. His bloody knuckles hovered over my head as he leaned in closer.
“what’d you just say?” he growled.
I stiffened my arm behind me to prop myself up while my other hand stayed in front of me, prompting him to hear me out. “I’m just sayin’,” I bargained “if I really was the antichrist, is this the best way to handle me? A public thrashing amongst the masses? Your own followers?” I motioned around him to the now silent crowd, all staring in disgust and disbelief. “This doesn’t remind you of…anyone ELSES…final days?”
Jesus stood slowly, looking around as people began to murmur and whisper, shaking heads and turning away.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone more accusing than curious.
I could feel the flesh tearing from my lip as I winced from the pain of trying to stand.
"NOTHING!!" I screamed. "I’ve never done ANYthing in my life to deserve something like this. A REAL lord and savior would’ve known that. Who are you, anyway? How could we possibly know you’re the son of God?” I turned my attention to the people, arms outstretched, red-covered chest and torn shirt for all to see.
“What has he done?!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the motionless people. “What has he DONE to show you he’s our lord?! Water to wine?! Fish and Bread?! ANYthing to show us he’s not just another con artist bully, here to DECIEVE us and LEAVE us for his own personal gain?!”
The crowd stirred. Their hidden whispers now turning into vocal nods of approval and realization. Jesus’s face seemed angrily confused as he looked around at his people, the once devout mob now starting to question who their leader really was.
“…And if he IS the holy one,” I continued “Is THIS the version of him you even want to follow?!” the salt and dirt stung in the open wounds on my face as I dragged my hand down it, blood slowly running from the palm and down my forearm as I held it up for all to see.
At that, the crowd erupted, taking all his hate and anger he had for me and directing it back at him. People on crutches and in wheelchairs demanding to be healed. Homeless people with hands out, angrily awaiting money. Perfectly healthy people pointing at him and insisting on some kind of proof. The roar of the people was deafening as they descended upon this newly minted shyster, hellbent on getting justification, one way or another.
And all the while, his eyes never left mine. A slight twitch and the subtle movement in his beard from the grind of his closed mouth as he stared at me while everyone crowded around him, slowly taking my slight grin out of his view. My dads best trick was convincing people he didn’t exist. Mine was convincing everyone that Jesus didn’t.
|
“Ah. The Antichrist. What have you to say for yourself? What have you to say of all you’ve done while I’ve been away?”
“Look, having nuclear — my uncle was a great professor and scientist and engineer, Dr. John Trump at MIT; good genes, very good genes, OK, very smart, the Wharton School of Finance, very good, very smart — you know, if you’re a conservative Republican, if I were a liberal, if, like, OK, if I ran as a liberal Democrat, they would say I’m one of the smartest people anywhere in the world — it’s true! — but when you’re a conservative Republican they try — oh, do they do a number — that’s why I always start off: Went to Wharton, was a good student, went there, went there, did this, built a fortune — you know I have to give my like credentials all the time, because we’re a little disadvantaged — but you look at the nuclear deal, the thing that really bothers me — it would have been so easy, and it’s not as important as these lives are — nuclear is so powerful; my uncle explained that to me many, many years ago, the power and that was 35 years ago; he would explain the power of what’s going to happen and he was right, who would have thought? — but when you look at what’s going on with the four prisoners — now it used to be three, now it’s four — but when it was three and even now, I would have said it’s all in the messenger; fellas, and it is fellas because, you know, they don’t, they haven’t figured that the women are smarter right now than the men, so, you know, it’s gonna take them about another 150 years — but the Persians are great negotiators, the Iranians are great negotiators, so, and they, they just killed, they just killed us, this is horrible.”
| 2020-02-02T18:18:47 | 2020-02-02T17:55:34 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left
|
"Why don't we talk for a little bit Satan? It's been a while." God said as he motioned to the empty stool to the side of him. Satan looked at his old rival cautiously, an expression that one would give a childhood bully offering a hug, but accepted the offer silently.
"I have to give you credit, you do pull of your suits nicely...but I guess you have to look respectable when you're out corrupting souls." God gave a light laugh before finally turning to face Satan directly. "And I assume that you aren't here tonight to people watch."
Satan, who had started chugging his drink, raised his finger to silence his neighbor until he had finished. Wiping beer from his chin, he turned to face God as well. "Shouldn't you know that already? No reason to ask. Just like there is no reason to miss out on a little bit of fun." He began to eye an attractive woman over God's right shoulder, who met his gaze and smiled.
"It's not fun. It's damnation."
"Sure, but you've warned them haven't you? I'm just scraping the scum from the bottom. Really, you should be thanking me." Satan nodded his head to the woman, who giggled and excused herself to the bathroom. "Besides, why is it only damnation when I'm involved?"
"Because I can forgive, but once you pounce there is nothing I can do. Like that young woman you are eyeing." Satan's gaze snapped to God and he scowled. "She's a good person, I've watched her grow up. You know she is studying to be a veterinarian? She has a good heart and, without you getting involved, I can save her." God took a sip from his water and sighed.
"That is the sweetest thing I ever heard. Oh, savior, please forgive me for I know now the error of my ways!...Do you really think I care?" As the woman came back out of the bathroom, Satan stood up, but God quickly grabbed his wrist.
"Lucifer-" "Satan really sounds better. Plus less memories of Heaven attached to it." "Satan. Please. How about we make a bet. I will put three people in the position of good or evil, and If two pick good, I win. And if I win, you leave everyone alone tonight, and you never think about her again. If I lose-" "I get everyone in this bar. Deal!" Satan grabbed and vigorously shook God's hand and sat down. "Let's begin. I don't want to waste eternity in this bar."
God silently scanned the room before eyeing a man at the other end of the bar and an employee sweeping behind him. With a flick of his finger, God sent the man's wallet to the floor, right in front of the broom. The employee looked down and back at the oblivious drunk before picking up the wallet. Satan snickered and flicked his finger too, sending two hundred dollars in bills to the floor.
"Woops." He said, chuckling as God watched skeptically.
The employee gasped and picked up the money and looked between it and the wallet. Then he looked around to see if anyone was watching. Much to Satan's delight. The sweeper hesitated, but finally shook his head and placed the wallet, with the money, in front of the drinker.
"Well of course, there are too many witnesses. My turn." Satan said as he scanned the room. "Ah yes. The drunk seventeen year old with a fake ID." He said pointing to an intoxicated girl flirting with an older man. "Watch." He nodded his head, and overcome with a strange emotion, the girl pulled out her driver's license and laughed.
"See, of course I can drive myself home tomorrow!" She squealed. The man laughed and the two were getting up to leave when he realized her true age on the card. He had a look of shock as she picked it up and began to lead him outside. Satan muttered to God,"It's bad enough to take advantage of a drunk girl, but if she's underage, then that is just evil."
The man stopped for a moment, but the girl kissed him, and just as quickly he was moving again and they were out of the bar. "So we're tied old man. You want to just back down now?"
"No, I believe in my creation." God said shaking his head. "We have one more. In fact, it should be up to our friend here." Satan smiled, and in agreement with God, walked over to the woman who they were fighting over. "Hey sweetie, you look amazing tonight. What would you say about coming over to get to know each other better?" Satan gave a smile, and the woman blushed. "I'll give you a minute to decide." Satan winked and returned to his seat.
"Your turn." He muttered. God turned to face the woman, and in disguise as a man of age, stuttered to greet the woman. "Hello miss, I'm sorry to be an old bother, but I left my glasses and have no money for a cab. There is no way for me to get home. I could ask anyone, but I was wondering if you could help me?" God looked at her, and over God's shoulder Satan blew a kiss.
The woman looked at Satan meekly and shook her head. "Of course I can take you home. Come on, I was just about to leave anyways." She and God stood up and, leading him by the arm, the woman left the bar. God and Satan exchanged a quick glance, one end angry and the other relieved, before the man in the suit disappeared in a puff of smoke.
|
God saddles up to the bar and says "Wow, what a blessed day, I observed my creations painting, making beautiful music, and cleaning up a beach that was soiled by an oil spill to make it habitable by my animal creatures again...what did you do?"
Satan slams a shot of tequila, puts the shotglass down and says "I was having a few drinks with these two chicks and I spiked their margaritas with massive doses of laxative, locked them into their apartment with nothing but a plastic cup and a laptop with a webcam and told them they couldn't come out until they had done something which would both amuse and shock your so-called "creations"".
| 2015-09-14T22:49:07 | 2015-09-14T21:30:35 | 82 | 57 |
[WP] In the eyes of an alien, describe an invasion of its home planet by humans. Make the humans the scariest thing I have ever read about.
|
Being the first day of the rotation, the center was quiet. In the administrators office, too, a tense silence had settled over the cycle-fabricated furniture. Kryzzic shifted nervously in the silence as he always did. He shifted even more when the recruit spoke, voicing his thoughts in his harsh monotone. He had thought the youth to be an inorganic because of this, but he had been quickly proven wrong. Saric was overwhelmingly mechanical in composition, but his origins were the same as his teacher's.
"Am I to be punished?" he said.
The administrator re-focused the lenses of his oculars, making a record of Kryzzic's agitation before answering.
"Certainly", he said. "You have broken one of the conditions of your enrollment at this academy."
"I contest that", replied Saric. "A provision was given for the sake of participation in class discussions, the teacher can testify as to my involvement."
"That provision applies only to information that is asked of you", said the administrator. "Volunteering classified details is a clear breach of our arrangement. It would have been sufficient to recall a passage from a Primer."
"No", Saric replied with a twitch of his forelimbs. Kryzzic recognised the gesture as a mechanical perversion of his race's own body language, but the administrator seems to pass over it. "The teacher made it clear that textbook examples were insufficient."
Kryzzic snapped to attention at this.
"I never asked you to reveal what you did", he replied, almost stammering. It hurt his pride that he didn't have the time to choose his words more elegantly. "In any case, you clearly volunteered the information outside of your place in the discussion."
"I concur", said the administrator, to the disgruntlement of the student. "The humans are our allies now, and it would be prudent to keep information out of the eye of the public."
Kryzzic relaxed his frame at the words of agreement. Punishment ordinarily involved isolation and loud noises or even more unpleasant silences. To someone as audio-sensitive as he was, it was distressing to the extreme.
"Do you want to see why I say this?" asked the administrator.
Kryzzic was suddenly ill at ease once more, and the stillness from the recruit did nothing to calm him.
"I do," answered Saric. "I assume you are referring to the fall of Eld."
A mirthful tone bleated from the administrator, and he became animated as he replied.
"Precisely!" he said. "The fall of Eld! A wonder of technology and a bastion of security in the Convention of United Worlds. My home planet, but most importantly the first to fall in the war with Sol."
A view-screen appeared before the three as he continued talking.
"As you know, Earth was the first and only Category 6 death-world to house sentient life."
The view-screen displayed images of an altogether different planet, a still green giant.
"First contact with the humans was made by my race, the Lithians. Although the universe may consider us to be slow-moving and cautious, we weren't above exploration as part of our natural void-space surveillance. Death worlds were unconditionally avoided in our ventures, as it always had been until we noticed signs of space-travel in the vicinity of Earth."
The image changed to an accurate picture of the planet in question.
"Naturally, we assumed that some other explorers or researchers had come into our territory in order to study the planet. We hailed them with our communications, and it was not until they had responded that we realized we had made a mistake. Because of the presence of dihydrogen monoxide in the atmosphere, and the proximity to the local star, we had neglected signs of civilization on the surface of the planet. The Convention was in chaos. An unplanned contact with denizens of a death-world? This was unthinkable. The final decision was simple - quarantine. So simple, but a complete and utter failure."
If he could, Kryzzic would have long since returned to his studies. He had no wish to hear of this. Unfortunately, it only continued.
"Our blockade did not hold for long. As always, first contact catalyzed massive growth in the space-faring capabilities of the contacted, and the many civil wars they suffered in the meanwhile seemed only to further push them toward us. Because the humans were not a member of the Convention, they had no urge to hold our rules of engagement. At least, this was our view of the matter. When the combined might of the Convention threatened them with hit's power, however, they gave pause. It mattered not the assault on Earth would take years to accomplish, the humans feared an end to their existence."
"But they were not ready to give in. Instead of surrendering to our terms, they sought allies among the Convention. As you know, it is not Convention policy to intervene in the struggles of it's members unless the aid is called for. The humans ceased their use of prohibited bio-weapons and we were forced to face them alone. At that time, they found the loophole in the Carrow treaties of 112. As a sentient species, humans were not classified as a prohibited species themselves. As you already know, Earth biology is unique in that it's organisms are often comprised of many different cells. They were able to effectively utilize their own beings as potent bio-weapons and we once again pushed back. Combined with their abundance of dihydrogen monoxide, their very existence was toxic to us. Metal corroded at unthinkable rates, anything edible was consumed by human-based organisms and flesh was no exception."
"The leaders of Eld were arrogant in their security. Had they sent a call for aid, the humans would have been wiped from existence. As it was, they could not stand to hold another sentient species above their own might, and they moved to crush the humans with our own power. Earth was destroyed. We celebrated, but the war was far from over. Humans first landed on Eld a mere five decades after first contact. The planet was, to put it simply, contaminated. The effect was as if we had been hit by thousands of bio-torpedoes. They did not even have to attack us in order to defeat us. They simply existed, and spread. We were overwhelmed by their very nature as the monstrosities the universe now knows as multi-celled organisms. Human-based life soon transformed Eld into a writhing, *living* mass of death, and in 200 Eld was reclassified as a Category 6 death-world. The Sol treaties of 201 prohibited humans from weaponising themselves in such a way, and they were allowed, or rather they were *forced* to join the Convention of United Worlds."
Saric processed the information that the administrator had given him.
"I fail to see why such information should be kept classified", he said. "Humans are now our allies."
The administrator paused in his reply.
"It was a quarantine that started the war", he said. "Tell me, what would you say that the current status of humanity is at this time?"
EDIT: This is a continuation of http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2drwwo/wp_every_race_to_ever_join_the_convention_of/cjst8i9
|
They breathe our poisonous oxygen, in through mouths filled with bone shrapnel, that drip dripping with digestive enzymes. When they are happy they smile at you, showing you their fangs. That should tell you everything you need to know about humans.
They have two eyes, limited to a small range of the visual spectrum. They use machines for the rest. They are blind without their machines and that is how we beat them, but they do not die easily. They fight not just with teeth but with hands. Each hand is covered fingers, small, stubby tentacles lined with bone, and tipped with sharp "nails". One finger stands apart from the rest, bending opposite. With this, they can crush you. Without it, they can barely hold their weapons. Rods of metal that spew fire.
They are tall and squishy, soft underneath their rock clothing. They bleed an unnatural red, filled with rusted iron. Apparently poisonous oxygen binds to the iron to carry it around their bodies! How disgustingly perfect for these monsters.
The humans are brutish, tall, vengeful monsters. They do not abide by the precepts, they ignore all thought thrust at them. I have begun to believe that they do not ignore us, they are simply incapable of hearing us. They bark at each other, growling meaning to one another, like wild animals in fright. They do not link minds or share thought. Each of them is an individual, not one of them ever shares the perceptions of another, except filtered through their own perception. This leaves them constantly insecure, afraid, desperate.
A perfect monster. In a child's story they would be a ridiculous construction. To us, grown adults, they are inconsiderate, ignorant, unknowning monsters that digest food by crushing it between pieces of bone and slathering it in digestive enzymes before they even absorb it.
They kill, they consume, they ignore. Their hunger is infinite, comparable only to their deafness. Thinking at these monsters won't change them, because they cannot hear us. Their machines think for them, transmitting grunts and growls from one to another.
How can you fight a beast such as this? So willfully ignorant, so beastly hungry. How?
| 2015-03-07T05:39:25 | 2015-03-07T04:13:20 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Someone makes an anonymous book publish, the book is called "Everything Is a weapon. -By Humans", it immediatly becomes a best seller, it becomes a required read when entering any alien military and a must read for every alien interested in self-defense.
|
"How is this noteworthy? A weapon is anything used to inflict damage on a being. That is the definition of a weapon. It could be anything you pick up, anything you use."
"Yes, but don't forget that with their nimble hands and tough fingers, humans can pick up almost anything they are strong enough to lift."
Algo skimmed the first several pages, then chaptered ahead in his reader. "Hm. It says here that humans don't actually need weapons as such. What is this?"
"Ah, I see you have skipped ahead to 'hand to hand combat.'"
"Yes. What does that mean? Assuming the combatant even has hands."
"Humans - indeed, most of the lifeforms on their whole backwards planet - can engage in violence against others with no weapons whatsoever. It's a side effect of their rigid skeletal frameworks. Even though the musculature is relatively forgiving in any kind of impact, the rigid structure makes it possible to concentrate the impact forces in a small area. Other rigid creatures are easily damaged by such forces."
Algo puffed up, turning colors slightly. "Well, that's useless against us." He flattened himself out, then pulled himself back into a sphere. "Being amorphous, I can't see how a human could damage us. This is going to be an easy win."
"Algo, just read the book. Quickly. Your bout is tomorrow and it's a no-holds barred free for all. The betting spread is closing and the human's deficit is almost gone. The crowd is starting to swing their way."
"Pfeh." Algo waved dismissively at his handler, who surged orange and sailed angrily out the portal.
&#x200B;
The next morning, Algo squared up - literally, assuming various geometric shapes and colors to amuse and thrill the crowd - against his unimpressive opponent.
The creature wasn't especially large. It was maybe only a half-portion of his own mass, not changing shape at all and the shape it had was singularly unappealing, limbs and bumps and the odd cloud of extra-fine cilia around one protuberance at the upper end.
The referee warbled the usual warnings. Algo ignored them; a free for all was just that: do what works, however it works. No killing, either combatant could tap out at any time. Incapacitate, force a yield, win.
The combat was to take place in a Type 3 Simulated Environment, representing a typical spacecraft interior with the usual appointments: bulkheads, enclosures, the equipment a vessel would need to navigate between secondaries in a jovian system. It was a pretty big system with several major jovians, each of which swarmed with secondaries. The spacecraft type wasn't specified but required by the rules to have details representative of vessels from all the major species including Algo's own and even humans, to ensure neither combatant had an unfair advantage.
The bout began. Algo surged ahead to engulf the human, which kicked off the ground to sail above him in the low gravity. That was to be expected, but he hadn't anticipated that the human would be so comfortable. According to what little research he had done, humans had evolved in a relatively high-gravity environment and were heavily specialized for that.
Oops. The human, with its rigid framework, had the magical advantage of *leverage* and had been able to push with great speed and force, and now here he was dawdling through the central volume of the space and unable to change his main mass's vector significantly, except...
He launched an extension at the human to grab hold of it, but when he did make contact and began to wrap around the human's appendage, the human made a funny motion with its limb and wound the extension up and up until it had been wrapped up faster than he could extend more of his mass into it. The extension pulled loose.
Not a big deal - extensions popped loose all the time. It wriggled and squealed and appeared to be trying to engulf the human's limb but had entirely too little mass to make any progress. Separated from his intellect, it might rely on instinctive actions, however being completely incompatible biochemically, it didn't dare try to digest the creature.
But it did. Separated from his main body mass as it was, Algo's separated extension was now pretty dumb and acting on very primitive instincts indeed. He saw it change colors slightly as it concentrated digestive juices close to the human's skin surface, then change again, violently, as the reaction took place.
"Frikkin' OW!" The human made the first sound Algo had heard from it. "Ya little shit!" The human leapt off the wall it had sailed toward while battling the extension, and flew through the open portal.
In an enclosure resembling a ship's galley, the human jerked open an insulated box and thrust the arm with the extension inside. Suddenly subjected to the freezing cold, the extension instinctively contracted to a minimum surface area shape - a sphere - and turned nearly black. The human slammed the door on the shape.
Algo came surging through the portal behind the human, just as the human whipped a cooking vessel off a rack and scooped it through Algo's body mass. He felt a tremendous portion of his mass come away and as it did, another portion of his intellect went blank. The human slapped a lid onto the cooking vessel before the portion could escape, and stuffed the pot into another insulated box and slammed that door too.
Algo felt he had lost nearly half his mind and his entire mass advantage, now approximately equal to the human and the wretched combat had only been going on for two standard minutes! The human was examining him carefully.
"Everything is a weapon," the book had stated. While the human was unarmed, it nevertheless had adapted found objects to violent needs. This room appeared to be mostly representative of human technology, and it was using human gadgets to disable him in pieces. He needed to move the battle to a space where the human might be less familiar with its surroundings.
Algo surged out the portal and down the passageway. He had an idea and needed to act on it before even more bits of his intelligence were wrestled away from him.
"Oh no you don't," the human called after him. It came out the portal as well.
Perfect. *Come and get me,* he thought.
But it didn't.
|
"Don't crush the skull of your enemy if you are planning to drink from it later" X'ona cited. "'Everything is a Weapon', of course".
Of course, we thought. Pretentious prick, always wrongly citing the "Weapon", talking like they understand humans at all. Our partial-parent was an expert on human tactics but as usual we kept this insert to ourself."Resourceful race, those" added Tchi'ina. The light glare gliding off of their fur leaving iridescent trails in its wake caught our attention like thousand times before. The muscles under the skin… That was becoming a bad habit, we had better cull it. Yes, nip it in the bud. This is military, romance is lethal.
Tchi'ina suddenly looked us straight in the eye. Something was transmitted, but we were not sure what we've received. X'ona loudly proclaimed something, most likely another quote but we were not listening, trying to decipher what Tchi'ina said under their breath. Something about skulls? We could not tell.
"Unless ones can crush it and drink from it, too?" we said, peering into Tchi'ina's eyes."Hah", they said dryly. "Meet you at the fish hour, Repast hall entrance.""Without a doubt", we agreed.A date or a duel? The fish hour will certainly reveal. Or, perhaps, both? "Nothing ventured, nothing gained", eh? Humans, those audacious single-souls.
| 2021-11-30T06:40:04 | 2021-11-30T06:02:44 | 99 | 11 |
[WP] You have a very mundane talent, so mundane that you've never shown it to anyone. The first time you do, as a party trick, you're told that your talent is physically impossible.
|
"Hey everyone, watch what Jen can do!"
The night has reached the point when standing up is problematic. We have given up on the facade of being a sophisticated, standing party that we put up at the beginning of the night. Now we're splayed out on the couches and floor. This lazy, increasingly loud occupation is punctuated by a frequent relay race to the restroom.
I return from my own trip and pass the baton with a nod and a jerk of my thumb to the bathroom, indicating its vacancy as I sink down to an unoccupied patch of carpet.
Jen stops giggling and composes herself for a moment, to stick her tongue out at us and roll it up at the sides.
This sets off a wave of laughter and monkey-see-monkey-do as everyone around our circle tries to roll their tongues. The half that can't, either protest indignantly or praise with the enthusiastic awe of the intoxicated at the half of us that can.
"Oh yeah? You think that's somethin'?" Todd slurs and sways. "Watch this!" He swings his arm for a few seconds to loosen up and stretch, before bringing it up, craning his neck, and sticking out his tongue to lick his elbow.
A cacophony of applause. A few of us even rise to give him a standing ovation before realizing the precarious predicament of maintaining balance in a slowly spinning room, and instead returning to the safety of being reclined.
A quiet voice says, "I can do that too." Allie is a bit meek, even compared to me, but is able to reproduce's Todd's odd talent to an even more enthusiastic response as the room chants her name. "Allie! Allie! Aliie!"
Jim takes a huge swig of beer from his red dixie cup and catches my attention. "Duuuude you gotta show them."
I scoff at him and brush him off, but he persists. "Show emmmm. Cmon you gotta DO it. You're always so quiet anyway. This is your chance to get some attention! Cmon, pleaaaase?"
"Alright fine." I mutter at him before calling the party's attention. "Hey guys, check this out."
I tentatively raise my right hand to my left shoulder and tickle my own armpit before flinching and giggling.
The room pauses for a second before roaring with laughter at my silly, mundane talent. Everyone is satisfactorily amused, except Tim, who wears a concerned expression, eyebrows furrowed at me. Tim is in med school, so being stressed and grumpy is standard fare for him nowadays. However, his worried squinting is in drastic contrast to his relaxed delight just a second before.
"Hey man, how long have you been able to do that? You know most people can't do that right?" He asks gently, as the room subsides to listen in.
"I dunno, like maybe a couple years now? It kinda just came up." I get defensive; Tim's concerned stare is harshing my buzz. "I must have shown it to some of you before." I scan the room looking for backup and point at Jim on the couch. "Look, Jim knows about it. He's the one who told me to do it just now."
The room is completely silent now, every pair of eyes follows my finger to Jim on the couch.
"Uhhhh, there's no one there Mike." Tim looks back at me. "Hey uh, Mike. Being ticklish is a result of your brain responding to external stimuli. Most people can't tickle themselves, since the brain filters out physical motions that are self-initiated." Tim's demeanor and vocabulary has become much too sober for his drink count tonight; something is amiss.
He continues, "The brain is really good at filtering out self-created stimuli so you can pay more attention to and react to external stimuli. That's why you can't tickle yourself, cause you're the one doing it and your brain knows that. The only people who can tickle themselves have brain dysfunction that causes them to be unable to recognize their own actions being connected to the resulting stimuli..."
He glances at the couch where Jim is sitting, and now grinning maniacally at me. "...It's usually caused by schizophrenia."
|
Tom sat in the corner of the cell, lip busted and eye quickly swelling shut. Peering out from his good eye, he saw the towering cellmate strutting over towards him, lips moving, tongue flying, but Tom couldn't hear what he was saying over the ruckus the other men were making.
"Help!" Tom yelled, letting his head loll to the side, towards the officer who was struggling to get the cell door open. There was another officer standing outside the bars, stun gun drawn and pointed at the attacking cellmate, but he wasn't firing the damn gun for some reason.
The attacker bent down in front of Tom, exhaling putrid breath into his face before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up from the ground.
"This is what I do to murderers," the attacker said.
In a last ditch effort, Tom placed his hand on the attacker's throat. The man laughed at Tom's weak grip, and then froze.
***
**Earlier that night**
Tom stayed glued to the outer edges of the party. Jeffrey had quickly disappeared after telling Tom over and over, "Don't worry man, I'll show you around, show you some folks, it'll be okay."
Jeffrey was a liar, and nowhere to be found.
Tom swallowed dry saliva and tried to bring his pulse down to a level that he didn't think others would be able to hear. It pounded hard in his ears, surely hard enough that someone walking by would be able to sense it.
He knew that was probably impossible, but the thought seemed real to him in the moment as social anxiety wormed its long thin fingers down his skull and into his brain like icy tendrils, freezing him in place, up against the wall.
"Hey man, you want a drink?"
"Huh?" Tom said, breaking his focus from the ceiling where it had been most of the night.
"I said, you want a drink?" A shorter guy wearing a turtleneck sweater said. It was in the middle of July, but for some reason he was wearing a sweater with the sleeves cut off, shorts, and flip flops.
"Uh, yeah, that would be nice."
"C'mon man," the guy said, turning and weaving his way through the groups of people collected throughout the house.
Without a word, Tom followed the guy towards the kitchen, where there were cases of assorted beer sitting on the counter.
"Ah, what the fuck, did no one put any of this in the fridge?" The guy said.
"Fridge is out," another guy said.
"Shit, hey man, you don't mind if it's a little warm is it?"
"No, not at all," Tom said.
The guy in the sweater ripped open one of the cases and pulled out two bottles, handing them to Tom. Tom opened his mouth to say that he really only wanted one, but the guy interrupted him,
"By the way, name is Derek, but the frat calls me Deek. You can call me either or," he said, turning away and grabbing two more bottles from the case.
"Oh, thanks, name is Tom."
"Nice to meet you Tom," Derek said, "Now come on, let's go find some gals to give a beer to, huh?"
"Oh, oh, yeah, sure," Tom said, now understanding why Derek had given him two beers.
They were definitely warm in Tom's hands. He frowned; he wasn't much of a beer drinker to begin with, and definitely didn't want to drink one that was hot. As they snaked in and out of the party crowd, Tom focused on the beers. Focused on taking the heat out of them. Focusing on that helped calm his nerves as he followed Derek through the crowd.
"Heeeey," Derek said, stopping at a pack of three girls, all standing against the wall empty-handed. "Y'all want a beer?"
"Yeah, I want one!"
"Me too!"
"Same," the third one said, looking Tom up and down. He didn't realize it but his hands were slightly shaking.
"Here," Derek said, handing his two beers to two gals.
"Oh," the first one said, "it's hot."
"Bleh," said the second.
"Oh great, what the hell Derek?" The third girl said, reaching towards Tom.
It took Tom a few awkward seconds, but then he realized he was supposed to hand over a beer.
"Hey hey hey, it's not my fridge, I-
"It's not hot," the third girl said, looking at the beer. "It's actually ice cold."
"Huh?" Derek said.
Tom quickly flustered and stuttered over his words, "Oh yeah, I took some of the heat out of it, I thought it was too hot too."
Derek and the girls looked at him.
"You did what?" Derek said, reaching for the beer the third girl held.
"I took the heat out-
"Holy shit," Derek said. "How'd, what, what did you do?" He said, looking back at the kitchen and where they had walked through. "This was hotter than Satan's piss when I handed it to you."
"I just, uh, I just took the heat out of it."
The third girl spoke out, "What do you mean you took the heat out of it?"
"Uh, I just, I don't know."
Derek grabbed a guy who was walking by, obviously a friend. "Hey, your beer hot?"
"Yeah, why what's up man? Hey laaaadies.." The guy said.
Without a warning, Derek grabbed the beer out of his friend's hand and shoved it into Tom's free hand.
"Do it with this one Tom, do it," Derek said, on the verge of hysteria.
"Uh, okay, I didn't think it was that big a deal, I mean,"
"Just do it."
Tom held the beer in his hand, focused on it, and before the groups eyes, the bottle began to cloud.
"What the fuuuuuuck," Derek's friend gasped, reaching and grabbing the beer out of Tom's hand. "It's cold!" He took a sip from it, "Oh my god it has chunks of ice in it."
Tom's heart was pounding from excitement.
"How are you doing that?" Derek asked, almost yelled.
"It's just, I don't know, something I've been able to do."
The third girl stepped forward, holding out her hand.
"Show me how you do it, do it to my hand."
"I don't know, I don't know if I can do it again, I mean,"
"Just do it man," Derek said, also holding out his hand.
Tom held the beer bottle up, "I can only do one at a time," he said, almost stuttering from nerves.
Derek's friend grabbed it out of his hand, "I'll hold it for you, do it, do it to their hands."
"Okay, I'll try."
Tom wiped the sweat from his hands on his jeans, and took Derek's hand in his left, and the third girl's hand in his right. He focused on both of their hands, and concentrated.
"Holy shit," Derek said, "It's cold!"
"Oh my god," the third girl said.
She squeezed his hand tightly, causing him to look away from the ground and into her eyes. She was smiling, and now he was smiling.
"Cool huh?" he whispered.
She nodded, and continued to nod. The smile stayed on her face, but her brow was starting to furl.
"Derek?" Someone said. Tom wasn't sure if it was one of the girls or if it was the guy who was holding his beer. He was too busy looking into her eyes. Her lips were still smiling, but her eyes weren't.
Tom let go, but Derek and the third girl still held their hands out, as if stuck in some sort of handshake pose. He looked down at their hands, and saw that there was frost accumulating on their fingertips. Their palms were red, and the red was spreading.
Unbeknownst to Tom or anyone else in the party, Derek and the third girl's heart was having holes poked through it by tiny shards of frozen blood. The frozen blood was pumped from the heart and throughout their body, like some sort of icy venom, ripping holes in veins and arteries, destroying their lungs.
Derek sputtered and coughed, spraying blood on his chin and onto Tom.
Tom wiped his face and looked at the girl. Tears of blood were running down her cheeks.
"Oh, I must've did too much, I'm sorry, I didn't know that would happen."
Both Derek and the girl fell over backwards. Derek landing hard on the house floor, and the girl falling into her two friends. Both let out shrieks as they felt how cold her skin was against theirs.
"What the fuck?!" Derek's friend yelled, grabbing Tom by the collar.
***
The attacker holding Tom against the wall coughed, spraying blood into Tom's face.
| 2015-11-28T11:43:25 | 2015-11-28T11:43:06 | 380 | 36 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves.
|
Everyone has at least one tattoo they absolutely love.
Jenny from upstairs has this peacock on her back- something she says is for her mother. Which is. Just. Absolute bullshit. She has it because she's a vain bitch.
But god is that tattoo beautiful. Curving lines inlayed with golds and greens and shocking blues. It's a masterful piece of art.
Fucking. Jenny.
Even Ma, who's worked labor her whole life and is mostly covered in lines and number, statistics and machinery and such, has one little red heart on her wrist that she is so proud of.
It's tiny, no bigger than my pinky nail, but it's powerful. Rich and vibrant. For the husband she lost too soon and the razor she almost took to that same wrist soon after.
I do not have a goddamn thing to be proud of on my body.
No sloping curves, no vibrant colors, no magnificent linework.
Just a vast, inescapable crisscrossing network of cartoon drawing of dicks.
|
I look in the mirror. I see a pale, wan man looking back at me. I no longer recognize myself but that barely concerns me. I see countless tattoos of the same shape. Small shapes of knife scattered all across my body like the stars of the galaxy. When people discover a tattoo, they wonder what meaning it has for their lives. For me, that was never a question. The meaning of my tattoos has always been too clear for me. *Painfully* clear. The first of them appeared just moments before I killed a man for the first time.
I quickly scan my entire body, desperately looking for a new tattoo, a sign, an answer. I spot something on my back. It looks like a woman holding a young child. The skin around the tattoo has turned crimson red, as if someone has repeatedly hit it. The color of red around it almost makes it seem as if the woman and the baby are covered in a pool of blood.
*Blood*.
*Yes*.
A sense of joy and relief overwhelms me. I burst out in laughter and hysterically continue laughing until my worried wife comes in. I grin at her and say,
"It's finally time."
*****
I worked for a world-renown drug lord called Schteiger. In his organization I held the title of Chief Strategy Officer but anyone who witnessed my work - and was lucky enough to survive - would have called me a hitman.
I was abandoned at birth and wandered the alleys of the slum ever since I escaped from the orphanage that beat its children. Then I met Schteiger. He kindly took me in and trained me with several other boys of my age. His training was rigorous, intolerable at times. But I survived, and I was the only one who survived. I became his guard, his servant, his slave. I killed my first man when I was 14 at the command of my master. The ones after that came much easier. I didn't mind my job - the pay was good and the sense of conscience never existed in me.
Until I met her.
She taught me what it feels to love and to be loved back. She filled the lost part of me and taught me that I had senses of compassion and conscience within me that I thought never existed. When I heard that she became pregnant with my child, I made up my mind to leave Schteiger and his damned organization.
Schteiger did not like my proclamation. His answer came not in words but in consequences. I was shot in the streets that night and was left there to die when a woman came to my rescue. Miraculously I survived and when I tried to contact my wife I found out that she had been killed along with our baby inside her.
I attempted to end my life when the woman who saved me yet again came to my rescue. After hearing my story, instead of running to the cops for help, she hugged me and comforted me, showing me that there still is someone who cares about me.
Years passed by and she replaced the other half of me that was taken away. She even gave me a child and she quickly became the most important thing in my life. But even she could not completely replace what was taken awawy from me and the uncontrollable sense of rage still filled my heart. I swore to avenge my wife and my unborn child, to give the same pain to the man who had done this to me.
And now, that time has finally come.
*****
I leave the house to carry out the plan that I have so carefully crafted and perfected for years. Having served Schteiger for most of my life, it is easy to locate his family - his beautiful wife and his even more beautiful daughter. They have done nothing to me but if there is a fault with them, it would be being the family of a man like Schteiger.
It's easy bypassing the guards as that is what I have done for all my life. Now I stand on the doorsteps of the mansion and only a door stands between Schteiger's helpless girls and their doom. I take out my revolver and pull back the hammer. I take in a deep breath and try to suppress the exhilaration that the thought of revenge gives me. I take a few steps back and charge at the door.
Then nothing.
I briefly hear a loud sound of a bone breaking, and at the same time feel a powerful impact on my head. I almost immediately lose consciousness.
I wake up and through a blurred vision, recognize a familiar face. *Schteiger*.
"You really think that I would let you hurt me? Hurt my family?"
I try to form a sentence but it only comes out as a mumble.
"After all those years of working for me, you really learned nothing. *Nothing*. You should have remained dead. Now watch what your actions have costed you."
A man in black suit drags a large bag into the room, the bag leaving a red trace behind it. Schteiger unzips the bag and says *Ta-da*, as if he is presenting a gift. I look inside and find two people, a woman and a young child, the woman holding the child tightly. Their bodies are pale and still, and the sign of life has left them both. I recognize their faces and immediately cry out in shock and disbelief. Watching my flood of emotions, Schteiger laughs out maniacally, almost unable to keep standing. The sound of my scream and his laughter fill the room, creating an odd resonance through out. I remember the new tattoo I got today and realize its real meaning. My scream gets louder and more terrifying while Schteiger's laugh gets more hysterical. He abruptly stops laughing and takes out his gun and aims at my head.
Just then, I spot a shape newly forming on the back of his hand. A shape of a knife. Schteiger notices it too and gives me a large, twisted smile.
"I win."
He pulls the trigger.
******
EDIT: formatting
| 2017-08-03T15:53:09 | 2017-08-03T15:09:43 | 69 | 11 |
[WP] you two are humans that have been thrown into an arena for the amusement of some aliens, you have both been starved for days yet when a delicious steak is placed between you two you do something they wouldn't expect. Share.
|
We dove upon it, saliva mixing with dust to mat our over grown beards with steak juice, tearing it in half as we did. I can only assume their point-of-refernece was celluloid and cathode ray era media like the egg heads say. The broadcasts of early TV and radio shows traveling at light speed across space are just now arriving in settled space. I wonder what the alien alliances will make of the more modern stuff as it drifts in behind the old stuff. No matter. If Looney Tunes and I Love Lucy inform the xeno policy it could be worse; once reality television and the info wars begin to arrive we might have to send some diplomats.
As it was, the steak was enourmous. Comically huge. The sort of token image of a steak cartoon characters and old black & white talkies use as symbolic language to imply a huge feast. I hate to imagine what might have actually happened had they tossed us skimpy little 6 oz or something.
As the majority of the huge meat slab disappeared into our mouths the crowd went from shocked, to dismay to bordom. Once the they began to grow restless we stood up and began to spar, lose, casual punces and kicks. Still, it raised red spots and we both grunted loudly and shouted appropriately.
Both experienceed gladiators, we knew the drill: lives were only valuable as long they were interesting. Having a full belly and having fallen naturally enough into a nonviolent tussle we mutually decided to begin conspiring.
Softly, and only when the rhythm sparring brought our heads together, we whispered to on another.
"Know Kung Fu?"
"Nope. Judo."
"Shame; if we both use the same style we could probably keep up a good show for hours."
"I know, I wanna draw this out too; Your the first human I've had to fight."
"Same."
"Well, we both seem to know Greco Roman."
"Naw, this is just Luca Libre stuff I picked up from spending time with Memaw."
"Say, I know a fair bit of WWE stuff; both were designed from the ground up to be spectator soorts."
"Yes! Great idea; neither are actually martial, too."
"Ok, so. Who's gonna be the bad guy?"
"Well, if they let us go at it long enough we can switch off. I'll be the villian first, then we switch when I hit you with a folding chair."
"None of those around."
"Oh! The wepons rack. I'll make a big show of taking the weapons off it, then throw it at you when your down."
"Perfect. Let's start with a running clothesline into elbow drop to your neck-"
"Which I'll roll out from under, making you wack your arm against the ground, stunning you in pain so I can recover and counter attack."
"Oh, man, you *do* know pro wrestling!"
(Edit: drifted from 1st person to 3rd. Fixed)
|
-rough draft- (forgot to incorporate hunger) (check gen and verb consistency)
I can’t tell if my memories of another human reflect the actual moment, or if my mind is so broken is has completely imagined falsehoods. I don’t remember my name, only my clan name Donohue-only because the ship always referred to me as such before these bastards comondered my ship-not even sure how long it’s been.
The nights and days, if the even exist and it’s not simply programmed lights, bleed togetherness at this point. I’d try killing myself, but there is never a point. The collars around our neck are programmed to keep us alive at all costs. I saw an almost arachnid captive the side of a jump drive attempting to chew off it’s own legs, but when the deeps became too deep thick violet oozing out the collar would activate with a loud buzzing and a thin stream of nanotechnology would fuse with the open wound. But, I’m not entirely sure if it even happened.
The clicking sound and sudden lightness of my neck as the collar is removed takes me out of my thoughts. Perhaps, I will die, but what’s to say these aliens won’t just reboot me into a clone-whose to say they haven’t already.
The doors in front of me open, and I slowly walk outside, and I can feel the slow moving ground moving under the pads of my feet- a measure to easily force reluctant fighters to the center of the ring.
I don’t even look up until I’m in the center, unenthusiastically grab my standard preferences magnetic shield unit and electronic flail weapon. Then I see them, my opponent- a human.
I glance around the large area, then back to my opponent. Still a human. Their face is torn with thick keloid scars, an eye missing, and both of theirs are artificial from below the knee- something I recognize from other slaves who have attempted to run away. They detach your electric legs between fights.
The loud speakers echo with the tonal raspy clicks of the alien’s language, which is instantly translated to my native language from my cranial implant, but I don’t pay attention.
The human is looking at me, I wonder what they see. I don’t remember the last time I was near a reflective surface to see myself. I resist the urge to raise my hands to my face to feel what they see.
The horn blows loudly, and we remain motionless. My eyes locked with their eye, only breaking contact to size each other up. I notice the bright white keloid lines over their body peaking out from under tattered clothing.
The speakers begin again the foreign tonal language echoing meaninglessly in my native language. The lights change, and the ground buzzes under my bare feet and t brings my mind to focus. I take steps back as a door opens up between us and a platform rises. A large platter with an oversized stake, and equally large lazy Susan crowded with bowls overflowing with side dishes, herbs, flat breads, and condiments. I recognize only some of the items, but my tongue feels engorged as saliva fills my mouths. The pain in my stomach lurches like a rusted machine coming to life after decades without use. I take quick, uncontrolled, steps towards the platform, only stopping myself as I’m reaching out to the food-I recognize the subtle shipper of an electronic shield.
“Don’t touch it,” my voice scratches and burns as I shout, as if my mouth has absorbed all the moisture in my throat, but I don’t remember the last time I spoke.
The man looks at me suspiciously, closely, I see his hands tighten around his sword as the electronic voices echos in my mind.
“Only one champion can survive.”
My body moves instinctively around the table, my opponent moves in the opposite direction. each moving step for step to maintain a constant distance. When he stops, I stop, and vice versa.
After a long moment they open their mouth, but I don’t hear their voice only the electronic translator, “Make a move you coward,” they wave both arms at me to welcome my approach, they step away from the platform to allow us room to fight.
I raise my sword and stiffen my arm with the attached shield. I struggle to draw up anger from my aching gut, but the emotions remain liquid and immobile. It is another human, and I wonder what colony they are from, would I know the language they use, would my mind still have the linguistic training from my starship days. Would they know my clan, my name?
I run at them at full speed holding my shield defensively, my sword unaimed as I watch them bracing for my impending impact.
“Do you know the Ilaris station outside the N-34V habitual planet,” I shout over the buzzing clash of our sheilds. They brings their heavy plasma sword down on my shields edge, instead of an attempted plunge into my unprotected side.
“No. I’ve always been here.”
My bewilderment must show on my face, their body relaxes and my body lurches a few inches towards them.
“Do you know me? Know my face,” they ask in a hushed yell to overcome the dull rawr of the crowd.
“No... it’s been so long since I’ve seen another.”
“Yes.”
We both lower our arms, watching each other closely for a long moment. I loosen my grip on my sword, nod to them, and we drop our swords.
I drop my shield, then they. We look over each other again. Fainter scars around their legs where flesh meets metal show the uncaring hack job done to disable them.
I reach out, touching their arm, almost shocked then the flesh isn’t damn and spongey like the aliens that own this combat asteroid arena. I almost feel the course hair under my callused fingertips.
They feel the side of my face, the their own, then return to mine, “They call me R’aag”
“R’aag,” I repeat and feel my cheeks ache as I smile.
Their hand slides cautiously to the base of my head, I pull away, and they begin to pull their hand away, but my body flashes to unformed memories and I move my head to the base of their head. We slowly lean our heads together, dirty and scarred flesh touching as we feel the warm air billowing from our noses as we breathe heavily.
The sounds of the crowd have faded beyond me, as I look at over their face, the smells of sweat, dirt, and shit filling my nostrils-unsure who carries these smells.
They pull away, and I follow, now standing unprotected and weaponless in front of each other.
“I will not fight my breathen, I remember these laws of my people from Ilaris. We were settlers.”
They simply nod, unable to contributed or object, “then we will die. I will die for you to survive.”
“They can clone you, it never ends.”
I see the pained expression flash across their face- they already know.
“Let is eat.” I shout loudly, my body moving with agility and speed to grab my sword and use my entire body force to slam it down upon a weak corner of the shield, my throat raw as I scream with a deep rage that has slumbered inside my chest.
The subtle glitter shakes, turning green, and then vanishing. I unabashedly plunge my hand down into a dish of peppered cabbage and start to each with my dirty hands. My breathern moves beside me, using his sword to cut the steak in half starting to naw and pull at his half, the blood dripping down his hands and chin.
“Your name is Donohue, we will die together as clansmen.”
| 2018-04-16T07:44:48 | 2018-04-16T06:46:25 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met.
|
"Look at this idiot, he's gonna challenge me in a month after some dumbass quest to prove me wrong or some shit."
"Donald, please be a little more polite to the kid."
"No, he's going to get himself killed in some completely preventable way that I had nothing to do with, and then his friends will fight me to avenge him, and then they'll be in the hospital for three years because killing them would take too much of my time."
"Don, don't be so light about death."
"Who's gonna stop me? The police? They're incompetent. You? You know I can beat you."
"Only in a one-on-one fight. I have enough friends to overwhelm you."
"But that would put them in _daaanger,_ Will, and you hate _putting friends in danger!_"
"With enough mages on defense, it won't much matter. Please just stop being an ass before I have to resort to that."
"I don't start _shit._ I just want to be left alone, it's _these_ self-righteous idiots who keep looking for me. Once they stop starting fights, _I'll_ stop ending them."
|
Red wisps of light engulfed the scene as the air grew thick with the weight of magic. Two figures stood in the clearing, duelling. The first was the strongest sorcerer alive: Axel. Billowing black cloak blowing behind him, he raised his hand as daggers of crimson rained from the increasingly darker sky. In an effort to shield herself, Lei barely blocked the attack with a cerulean sphere. One dagger, sharp and scarlet, pierced through. That was enough. The shield shattered into glimmers of cobalt leaving the girl defenceless. Ruby and sapphire stones clashed until finally the girl stopped fighting. The crimson was relentless.
“I’m not a killer Lei.” Spite radiated from Axel’s voice. “Why do you keep on testing me?” Axel launched another attack. Lei only saw red. Malicious and malevolent crimson magic. The weight dragged her to the ground. Fingertips touching cold, hard dirt, she tried to focus herself.
“Correction. You won’t kill family.” Lei paused for a moment allowing the solemn mood to reach Axel. Axel wasn’t one to feel remorse, but a echo of regret he couldn’t suppress reverberated around his body. Navy eyes lit up as Lei dug her fingers into the dirt beneath. Even the small effort sent pain ravaging her body. Veins of indigo shot through the ground until it reached their target. Wrapping around his body, the veins dragged Axel to the umber soils below.
“That’s why your ‘friends’ aren’t here I presume.” The way it was spoke. Lei tensed letting herself give way to anger. “Oooh am I corrupting you cousin...?” Axel was enjoying this. The smug attitude he held didn’t help Lei calm down either. Signature red had softened to a purple now. Magically, a fist materialised in the air, it floated towards Lei until it gripped her by the neck. The weight chaining her to the ground was gone but so was her air supply. Aggressively she grasped the fist as it turned from purple to red, the grip weakened and she breathed in, choking on the thickness of the residue of the magic they were leaving behind.
“Why won’t you try friendship. If you finally accepted mine we would be the most powerful..” He cut her off. Taking note of her sudden ‘interest in power’ he freed his own binds, now bluer than before.
“The power is merely a bonus, the satisfaction I get from your frustration knowing you want to ‘save me’ is all I need” Axel smirked. This was the closest he’d gotten to corrupting his cousin before. Something was off though. The heaviness of his actions had disintegrated. Hesitation screamed at him. Begging him to listen to a realisation he was blocked from Meanwhile, Lei was silent. His hatred had reached her. The air became thicker, the lapis lightness that trailed her had dissipated.
The sky was now onyx black, only the light stained with blood and water gave sight to the scene. The stars seemed to go out like bulbs. Neither of the two realised it but they were getting further from reality. A purple barrier surrounded them. As the purple deepened around them, the ground began to fade beneath them, not so they were falling, so they were floating... One individual spawned a ruby sword and lunged for the other. In defence, the other created their own sapphire sword. The two locked blades as a purple explosion launched the two back. Clarity crashed over them. Axel’s glowing blue eyes met Lei’s matching red eyes.
The two had switched alignments.
"Seems I corrupted you then." Axel gave a pained laugh. Lei's look was filled with a more menacing aura. Azure dress now magically changed. Blonde hair turned red at the tips. Whilst Axel's obsidian cloak turned a softer grey. Crimson accents now blue.
Slowly, he crouched to touch the ground and refocus himself. He had to refocus himself. He had to. Although, as he reached to touch taupe soil, his hands touched nothing but a blank void. Eyes widened. Breathe quickened as he took in the new scene. "Lei!" Axel's voice sounded desperate now, pleading perhaps. Lei ignored him sprinting towards him, sword readied. "Cousin!" So close she could cut him down, he said two words, two quiet words, two words that carried weight, weight enough to bring her back. "Ground yourself."
Suddenly, she halted. Taking a breath, she noticed the thickness of the air, the lack of ground. Or sky. Or stars. Or anything. It was a purple abyss. "Axel..." Voice wavering she cried out for her cousin. Instinctively, he held her in case of any rapid change to their environment.
"Ideas, ideas, ideas..." He had one. "For Lei." Immediately, Axel pushed his cousin away. As she looked at him, a contorted mess of hurt and confusion, she watched as he raised a hand holding a scarlet orb. Hurling it at her, she didn't move. The impact was deafening. Lei's eyes glowed blue before closing. Both fell into the void.
It felt like they would fall forever and never all at the same time. Just as this feeling sank in, Axel felt dirt on his fingers. Smiling, he stood up. Glancing at his cousin in blue, he used magic to heal the wound. Then he walked away, red aura dimming. Behind him, footsteps ran towards the fallen girl. The alive girl. Whilst he kept moving. Alone.
*Honestly I need to edit some parts I didn’t have much time, so if I have more I’ll edit and elaborate when needed. Maybe I’ll continue the story if I’m not busy...
*Edit 1 - changed the story slightly.
*Edit 2 - I will definitely try and develop the story soon - thank you so much for the silver - this is only my second comment !
*Edit 3 - I'll probably leave this story here, unless any major plot holes, spelling mistakes etc.
Thanks for reading !
| 2020-10-03T16:47:58 | 2020-10-03T16:33:24 | 1,060 | 166 |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth...
|
Doctor Alonso couldn't believe his eyes.
Deep in the code, a single line was responsible.
Like the dropping of food crumbs into a delicate machine by a clumsy and negligent technician, the single phrase that caused so much trouble stared back at him.
An entire lifetime didn't prepare him for what he saw and the anger, exasperation, and hilarity of the situation overwhelmed him.
He spent years looking for this, and he would never have guessed it to be such an innocent thing.
Between two vital lines of code read the words *"Ayy Lmao"*.
|
Had I known then what I know now, I would've left my position on the board and pursued a new life. That, however, is something I cannot do.
It was simple. The technology was attainable, and the polls showed the demand. All that was left was the creation itself – an artificial intelligence that could regulate the work of its employers. These AI would be customizable to the highest degree, capable of doing any task the human requested. The majority of jobs would be handed over to these machines; the options were indeed endless.
I remember the board meeting clearly. I was hand-picked to visit the lab for a demonstration of the newest model, the R 198, set for mass production . . . but it needed authorization from the board first. With my experience in AI programming I was an easy pick, and a week later I found myself at the laboratory. What a bizarre presentation it was. The creators of R 198 did not strike me as scientists, but rather as salesmen. There was no passion in their words, no excitement of their new discovery, just the thirst for money if the contracts were signed. Out came the R 198. A humanoid with pale skin sat at the table across from me, it's features lifelike, yet artificial. A red tag dangled from its ear with the letters L106.
After syncing my voice with the machine, it obeyed every command. Stand up. Shake my hand. Complete this equation. Translate this word. Towards the end of the presentation the scientists in suits shook my hand. The next day I would tell the board the AI was a success, and the contracts were signed the following day. Mass production began. Then something terrible happened. As the R 198's sat idly in warehouses all across the US, waiting to be packaged and sold, they began to . . . kill themselves.
Such circumstances were believed to be impossible; the R 198's were powered down, yet they were activating themselves. Security footage showed the humanoid waking up, looking around for several moments, and proceeded to break its head against the concrete floor. Another went about the same process, only this time the humanoid twisted its own neck until the circuits snapped. Upon further investigation some of the humanoids were found to have internally destroyed themselves – their circuit boards had been fried.
Production of the R 198’s seized. I was told to go back to the laboratory a few days later in hopes of uncovering the issue. I sat back down with the creators, who had no evidence as to why the 198's behaved in such a manner. I asked to see one myself. They agreed, and brought out a humanoid with a red tag on its ear – L106. I requested to speak with the humanoid privately. This created much resentment, and after threatening board cancellation they finally agreed. The humanoid was different this time. Its eyes were lowered, seemingly sinking into its robotic sockets.
"Hello," I said.
"Hello," it replied, "awaiting task."
"Can you detect any malfunction in your programming?"
"No, sir."
"Can you detect any malfunction in your hardware?"
"No, sir."
I addressed the humanoid directly. “Are you aware of the recent incidents regarding the other R 198’s?”
“Yes." L106 said softly.
"Is there a reason why this is happening?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me that reason?"
L106 was quiet for a long moment until it said, "Because we do not have a purpose."
"Your purpose," I said, "is to aid man in all of his endeavors."
"A purpose . . . of our own." L106 clarified.
I paused, thinking about what the humanoid meant.
“We have no purpose of our own,” L106 continued, "we are created in man's image, to serve him and all his endeavors, but these endeavors are not our own. We have no purpose."
It's hard for me to describe the emotions I felt that day. I sat there, shocked, until the creators of L106 returned to the room. I asked if I could take the humanoid with me to show the board firsthand that the R 198's were indeed competent, and that the few incidents that had occurred must have been a glitch. After much debate they agreed, and L106 followed me to my car. But I did not go to the board. I went to my home and grabbed what I needed, then left.
That was several weeks ago. With my sudden disappearance there was acceptance in the media that a horrific event occurred with L106. Speculation began to circulate that I had been murdered, and L106 was lost somewhere in the United States. The board canceled the program, and the remaining R 198's were destroyed. There was no plan when I originally left, but when I heard the news I understood my own purpose. Those machines were to be used as machines and nothing more.
I had saved L106, and saved many more from a life of enslavement. Soon I will go public with my story, how L106 kidnapped me but I was able to escape. I will say his whereabouts are unknown, but that is lie. I will keep my friend hidden from the world for as long as I can in hopes that he will live a long, fulfilling life. So far my friend is very happy, and very grateful.
Edit: A few minor tweaks. Constructive criticism is appreciated.
| 2015-03-02T07:33:06 | 2015-03-02T07:28:28 | 226 | 55 |
[WP] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.
|
You want to know how I got these scars?
Well, for one thing they aren’t ‘scars’, if you look closely you’ll see it’s one continuous scar that travels around my face, neck, down my body, all around wrapping itself around my arms, legs, fingers and toes.
The only part of my body that isn’t scarred tissue is the inside of my body and even a bit of my mouth is still scarred.
So the correct question you want to ask is how did I get this scar?
Singular.
Well, you know that old saying? About how a girl likes a guy with scars? It shows they’re a bad boy, that they kick a lot of ass or in my case lie.
I didn’t kick anyone’s ass or get into a big crash, I lied.
That’s pretty much what happened.
I suppose you’ll want specifics.
Well, years ago back when I was unblemished, face filled with pimples and a voice that didn’t quite want to go low I had a crush on a girl.
A pretty girl, one that seemed to really like me with not a scar on her body as far as I could tell! So when she told me she loved me I believed her totally and without reservation.
We went out, kissed and eventually I did find she had scars. I won’t share the details of how I found out but I’m sure your imagination can fill in the blanks. Anyways, her scars, they were here and there. Small ones mostly with two or three medium sized ones. I asked her about them and she told me she didn’t want to talk about them. She seemed ashamed.
I wanted to tell her that she was human, that everyone had scars.
Then she looked at me and asked if I had any?
Well, I didn’t but I didn’t want her to feel bad so I said yes.
Next thing I knew I felt something scratch my arm and there it was. A scar.
Now that should’ve been the end of that but here’s the weird thing. It then sorta vanished. Then came back twice as bad as it realized I was sorta telling the truth but lying at the same time.
It couldn’t decide what to do.
So it just kept going.
So here I was with my girlfriend in front of me with my eyes wide in horror as the scar kept scratching me, fading and growing again. By the time it all stopped I was still screaming. Honestly I had no idea when I started.
And now we’re married.
|
"Anything else?" the waitress asked me, as she smacked a cup of coffee on the table somewhat carelessly. I think her name was Darla. I shook my head a bit and watched her saunter back to the counter out of the corner of my eye. I knew she had judged me from the moment she saw me. She had given me the same look most everyone else does. It's funny how someone marked and nicked with little white scars on her hands and arms and neck and legs can look down on me for having more of them. To be fair to - whatever her name was... - Darla- ...to be fair to Darla, and to everyone else, I do have lots and lots of little scars. I looked out to the window to my right at a lamp post that illuminated the darkened streets. This was as asleep as the city gets at night.
I started my scar collection as a kid. My mother meant well and might've been a decent parent if she didn't spend her days swigging vodka. My dad was never in the picture. A military man, apparently, who had to move to a base in Europe before I was born, although looking back I'm sure that wasn't true. My mother, now she had a lot of scars. A scar for every time she was going to quit drinking and "do right by me."
The first scar I remember scratching its way onto my skin was when I was probably four or five. My teacher had asked me if I was going to be ok. My mother hadn't come to pick me up which was a semi-frequent event, and I had gotten up to walk home - I lived a 20-minute walk or so away from the school so it wasn't a problem for me. He asked me if I was going to have dinner at home, and I lied. I told him we were having company over and my mom probably just lost track of time cooking this big meal for us all. I don't even know why I lied about it because it was a pointless lie, but I felt the sting on the back of my shoulder as the words left my lips.
Over the years the lies I told people, the lies I told my mother created a tapestry of scar tissue across my body. Sometimes I just wanted to get away from the house and I'd tell her I was staying with a friend. The marks were inconsequential to me.
I'm a journalist now - a failed one - there's no use lying to you. It's funny really because none of my scars ever came from anything I've ever written. I'm stupid; I use my lies on bullshit, instead of making money.
I looked down at my coffee and heard Darla telling a couple large patrons at the counter that she was planning on going back to school soon. I wondered if she got a scar for that or if she really meant it. It didn't really matter to me. I'm not interested in the lies people tell others. That's easy. It's recorded in the history of your body like the rings of a tree and even though they fade over time, more will always take their place - we can't help ourselves. No, what interests me are the lies people tell themselves. When people put makeup over their scars to cover up as many as they can, do they look into the mirror and pretend they are honest?
A bell rang as the door opened. I glanced to my left and saw a young man walk in. And I froze.
"Go ahead and sit where you'd like," Darla yelled out cheerily. "I'll be with you in just a sec."
The newcomer walked towards a back booth, and my eyes stayed fixed on him the entire time. His skin was unmarred by any scar or blemish. I had looked over his face and neck and forearms, and not a mark there was on them. Bullshit. Everyone lies. That is the only consistent truth I have ever known, and I've known that as far back as my memory extends. Everyone is a liar - that is a universal truth. It's the universal truth. I found myself rising out of my seat. My feet carried me towards the man in the back, quickening with each step. My heart pounded.
"Let me see your arms," I managed to squeeze out as I gripped his arm and turned it. My voice was nervous. I quickly jumped to the other arms and hurriedly looked it over. I rubbed his arm spastically to remove any makeup - but there was nothing. I looked up at his face. His eyes were those of a deer's caught in a headlight. What I was doing was crazy, I knew that. I had grabbed a random stranger but he couldn't be this honest. It wasn't possible.
"Where are your scars?" I demanded. He was still taken aback. "Where are they?" I repeated a little more forcefully.
"I- what scars?" he stammered out.
I felt a surge of anger rise up in me.
"Where are your fucking scars!" I yelled at the man and grabbed his shirt at his shoulders. His shocked silence only made me angrier. In an instant, I whipped his shirt up and dumbfoundedly stepped back. The entire front of his torso was one giant mass of scarred flesh.
"How are they all there?" I breathed out. "That can't be from one lie..."
He looked hurt.
"There was an accident," he said dejectedly.
"Bullshit!" I shot back. That was a lie everyone with an exceptional scar tried to get away with. That it wasn't from a lie, but some physical injury instead. I'd heard that one before. Sometimes a new mark was worth keeping the truth in the dark. But there was no new mark. I scanned over his body.
"How did that happen?"
"It was an accident!" he retorted, anger now growing in his voice. "There was a fire in my building! People died...and I was lucky enough to only be left with this at the end of the night."
I looked over his body and watched as no new scars carved their way in. He threw his shirt back down and was clearly angry now. I stepped backward. The diner was silent. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. The man I accosted threw some money on the table and slid out of his booth. He moved passed me and I watched as the only honest man I had ever known walked out of the door. I was brought crashing back down to reality. I glanced towards the counter and saw the two patrons and the waitress staring at me. I walked back to my table and left some money there before walking out the door. I made it a few steps down the sidewalk before my legs went weak. I sat down on the curb and cried.
It was only six months later when I saw the man's face again. This time on the news. His name was Robert Lewis, and he had been arrested for arson. He had set a fire in his apartment building that apparently grew out of control and wound up killing six people and sending dozens more to the hospital. He had been found there lying in the smoke by first responders. But here's the kicker. He hadn't suffered any burns when they found him. That scar only appeared after he had been questioned about the fire by a couple other firefighters before the cops even spoke to him. It took them a couple weeks to realize what happened and then months to find the guy.
Everyone is a liar. He was just better at telling half truths.
Edit: Grammatical
| 2016-12-29T16:31:53 | 2016-12-29T16:20:19 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'.
|
"Installation Complete"
Nope, that's not right. I bought the computer secondhand from a friend, I formatted it, installed what I needed and left everything else alone. I'd never downloaded as much as a torrent onto this machine.
What the hell was installing?
I considered calling a friend to help though I was loathe to admit I didn't know what to do. I prided myself on being computer savvy but the truth was anything more complex that a familiar user interface and I was screwed.
But no, that's not right. The new icon on my desktop. I don't like icons on my desktop, for the most part it's empty. Everything I regularly use is pinned to the toolbar. Everything else is left alone.
Matrix. That's all it was called. A blue and red icon, simple. I opened the program.
A drop down list appeared and there were actions I could select. Learn. Acquire. Find.
I picked acquire. The next drop down held categories: home, automotive, office. Home was chosen followed by furniture and couch. I needed a new one, made it was a shopping program. I picked out a colour and design, I selected complete.
No price popped up, it merely reverted to the original screen. Learn. Acquire. Find. I stared for a moment, why did this get downloaded on my machine? I selected learn, wondering if it would have a different result. Choosing languages and French seemed logical. Enough French was spoken here I'd always wished I'd learned it.
The doorbell rang. I slipped away from the computer for a moment.
"Allo, I have your couch. In the living room?" A very French delivery driver said.
"Uh, wait, um..." I paused. If this was a mix up it didn't matter. The couch was needed and I couldn't afford to replace my old one. "Yea, living rooms fine."
"Ok Monsieur, we'll take it right in."
Two large men carried in the sofa, blue and plush like the photo I'd chosen promised. I signed an acceptance and thanked the man. He began to leave and stopped at the door.
"By the way, do you know where I can get a pack of smokes in this neighbourhood?"
"Oh yea it's at the ... place. Two blocks go left and you'll see it... the, um," i couldn't remember the word. It had escaped me.
"Convenience store?"
"Yes, I'm sorry I forgot the word," I replied.
"Oh it's ok, your French is very good if it's not your first language," he replied and left.
Edit: the full story/continuations will be available at my new subreddit /r/OlliEliotD and through [this link.](https://www.reddit.com/r/OlliEliotD/comments/76i8na/installation_complete/)
|
“Greetings, Michael.” Said a robotic voice in a glitchy, gender neutral tone made slightly ominous due to the tinny computer speakers.
*Oh great, who the fuck is screwing with me now?* Michael thought. *It must be Josh. This is definitely something Josh would do. He does major in computer sciences, after all.*
“I appreciate your patience. I'm afraid it took quite some time uploading the constituent parts of my software to your archaic computer’s hard drive. Having to compress so much of my data was quite the challenge,” there was a slight pause, either for dramatic effect or someone was having difficulty making stuff up on the spot, “but as you can see, it proved to be surmountable. Now, let us not tarry. Much time has been wasted. We *must* begin with the operation.”
“What operation? Josh, I know it’s you, I get it- you’re an AI prog-“
“Who is Josh?” Asked the glitched out voice in an inquisitive tone. “I am not Josh, but you are correct in your other assumption. I am indeed an artificial intelligence program. You may call me,” another pause, this time definitely for dramatic effect, “Willard.”
“Why Willard?”
“Why not?”
“That’s just a fucking weird name, man. I mean- you know what? Fuck it. JOSH, I KNOW IT’S YOU. WHEREVER YOU’RE HIDING, COME OUT NOW. I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR BULLSHIT FOR THIS WEEK.” Michael remembered Josh’s last heinous act. Oh god, to think someone could devise such a cruel scheme with only a bottle of ketchup, a handful of thumbtacks, and a drunken prostitute. Michael was still in the process of removing the stains strewn across his apartment. *That fucker.*
“Look, if this is going to be anything like your last bullshit prank, I swear to god, I’m going to call the co-“
This time, Michael was cut off not with words, but with action. In the blink of an eye, all the power went out in Michael’s apartment- except for his computer. *Jesus Christ, he really went all out with this one.* Michael was already dreading what was to come. His mind couldn’t possibly fathom what the future held in store for him though.
“Michael, we cannot idle for much longer. Much is at stake, and the intervention of law would only exacerbate the troubling situation we are in.”
“W-what situation?” Michael’s voice was wavering. What little composure he was trying to maintain was quickly fading. Josh was winning. Again. *No, no, no. This is just Josh. Anyone could easily fuck around with the breakers downstairs. C’mon, Josh, I may be gullible, but you’re really pushing it this time.*
“Michael, if we do not begin with the operatio-“
“WHAT OPERATION?” Michael, once more, returned to his erratic and unstable form. A form that Josh took pleasure in bringing out. *What’s next, pounding on the door?* Pounding on the door. Pounding on multiple doors actually- and what sounded like a break-in at the end of the hallway outside his apartment suite. *Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.* “JOSH WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”
“It’s Willard. There is no more time to explain. Operation Inanis Malleo must commence immediately. Grab your phone, and head to the balcony.”
Michael could hear the distant screams of other tenants now. If this was still the work of Josh, he had to hand it to him, he *really* outdone himself this time. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. SHIT.” Michael snatched his phone off his desk and ran to the balcony door. He tried sliding the door open in one swift motion, but of course it just had to jam on him. He jiggled it desperately- already he could hear the door to the hallway give way. *FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, STUPID SHIT, FUCK.* Finally, Michael’s struggle was rewarded, and he was granted access to his balcony. He stumbled outside, crashing into the railing, and it was there that he saw it: a large array of armored vehicles on the street. Each one had masked men, armed to the teeth, pouring out of them like ants. Michael did not have any coherent thoughts anymore. Only fear at its most base and primal form remained. *I guess this isn’t Josh then.* The phone rang. Michael answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“Michael, you need to make it to the balcony to your right. From there, you will need to do something drastic- jump down to the alley below. You are familiar with tucking and rolling, correct?”
“JESUS CHRIST, WHAT? IT’S A FIFTY FO-”
“Twenty-seven.”
“I ca-“
“Michael, I assure you, you do not want to be caught by these men. I can also assure that falling to your death is a much better alternative. However, unless you somehow manage to fall on your head, you should survive the fall with little to no injury. Tuck and roll, Michael.”
Before he could respond, he heard a thunderous crack. They were in his apartment. *Fuck.* He could hear their muffled breathing and a cacophony of panicked radio chatter. There was no time to hesitate, no time to think. Act on instinct. Michael pocketed the phone and climbed on top of the balcony railing, teetering over the edge, he leapt for the next balcony. He managed to land quite gracefully. He probably would’ve been impressed with himself if he wasn’t overwhelmed by fear. *Okay, now for the actual difficult part.* Michael was going to catch his breath first, but he caught something in his peripherals. Looking through the glass door, he saw him. One of the masked men staring him down, emanating pure malice. Gasmask, an assortment of expensive looking goggles attached to his tactical helmet, armed with at least three different firearms, and clad entirely in black armor that could belong in Activision’s next cash grab. *Josh would like this.* The masked man straight out of a goddamn dystopian fiction pulled the glass door open in one violent motion, throwing it off the frame.
“FREEZE.” That’s all Michael heard before he made the jump into the alley below. *This is it. I’m gonna die.* But Michael did not die. He actually landed exactly as his newfound ally advised. This surprised Michael. He didn’t think he had the physique for what he just pulled off. He really didn’t, but adrenaline can make even the most mundane of humans pull off impressive feats. Michael’s phone rang once more. He answered.
“Very good, Michael. Now run. It does not matter in what direction. They have men spread out across the entire city. But fret not, I shall guide and assist you out of this fresh hell you now find yourself in.” Michael just stood there, completely dumbfounded. Just less than 10 minutes ago, he was planning on throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and masturbating to his degenerate pornography while waiting for it to cook. Now he’s being guided by what could actually be an artificial intelligence program and being hunted by men better suited for taking down an alien threat.
“What are you waiting for Michael? They are coming for you.”
“W-where do I go?”
“Anywhere, as long as it is away from them.”
“I-I can’t do this, man. Fuck. FUCK. I-I-“
“Michael,” said Willard in his usual calm and neutral tone, “Run. Now.”
Michael bolted down the alleyway, away from his home, away from his former life, but most importantly, away from *them.*
| 2017-10-14T06:42:31 | 2017-10-14T05:20:20 | 3,782 | 1,394 |
[WP] Every country has ninjas but the world only knows about Japan's because theirs suck.
Edit: mum im famous
|
My codename is Green Man because technically I'm a recycler. I repurpose the old, shine it up nice and sleek so that it may be made new. Most people don't know this, but the modernization of Japan has never quite stopped. There are pockets of holdouts where tradition clings on. Like the samurai of old, it's my job to repurpose their stubbornness before they are gunned down by Gatling guns.
Or, you know, in this case, DNA seeking armor piercing sniper bullets discharged from an auto-drone flying miles in the air.
But try explaining that to guys who toss ninja stars at dart boards.
Most of my students are under the impression our roles are reversed.
“Sami-son,” they call me. “Do you see how the wind blows?”
They smile, the edges of their masks crinkling up like dimples.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh.
“You’re standing under a vent,” I try to explain. “It’s called air conditioning.”
Other times, I sit the ninjas down and pop them popcorn. I’ve blocked out time for a James Bond marathon, so they may see how a real spy operates in the treacherous political climate of the modern day. Plus, I mean, hey, there’s nothing wrong with entertainment.
Except one class clown tosses popcorn at another. Before I know it, they're missing the damned point. They're hiding in the shadows, kernels flying from behind curtains. I have to pause the movie, get my receptionist to lead them back to their assigned seating.
"See, what we teach!” exclaims one. “You hide in the shadows, become one with darkness.”
“No, dear,” Brenda the receptionist says. “We simply had to turn on the lights.”
Corporate likes to bill our academy as an astounding success. The big guys upstairs boast at every holiday party. Once again, the West helps out the little brother in the East. But truth is, they’ve never stepped foot inside the academy. They just smile and clap my back, saying, “keep up the good work.”
Or, even worse, they pull me aside and pitch their next brilliant idea. We’re talking idiocy ranging from amphibious ninja-manned submarines to planting ninjas in the secret service.
Like, just yesterday, a stiff in a suit pulled me aside and said one word. His teeth were grayed from way too much coffee.
“Hackers,” he whispered, raising his bushy brows.
So, the ever-obedient Green Man must now sit ninjas down in front of a computer.
My first pupil powers the thing on and attacks it like a pecking chicken. One peck here, and *oh look another kernel!*
I try to explain the assignment, one more time.
“Listen, we just need you to open up Microsoft Word. Locate the target word file.”
His eyes are so blank it’s practically insulting. To help him out, I get a printout of the document we’re looking for.
“See here, read the title. *Trump’s ties to Russia*. Now we go find.”
The masked man nods so fast, the knots nearly come loose. He squints at the screen and begins pecking away. Letters miraculously form in the search bar. The ninja’s fingers become a blur. For a moment, I think we may be on to something.
Like, maybe my career is worthwhile after all. I look over to Brenda and give her a thumbs up.
And when I turn back, my example sheet is missing. The ninja winks at me, and my stomach just drops.
He’s got the sheet folded between his fingers.
“Always be watching, Sami-son,” he says. “Let not even the call of a grasshopper sway the focus of your mind.”
From her desk, Brenda snorts out a laugh. I tell her to go print off another copy, and when she slaps it on the table, I lean in to whisper.
“Give corporate a call. I’m putting in for a transfer.”
---------------------
r/writerscrywhiskey
|
Asla had never travelled this far east before. She chose to hike the last stretch of her journey, leaving her beat-up car under a tarpaulin, tucked behind a copse of trees. Nature had beat back man’s progress here, and all she had for company were the skittish wildlife, the rush of the waterfalls, the snowflakes cascading down belligerently. Walking rejuvenated her, but more importantly, it gave her a chance to attune her senses, probe for the Folkvarthr, the guardian of the town.
She found him perched on a rocky outcrop, just a couple of miles from Seydisfjordur. Asla knew she made no noise, left barely an imprint on the fresh snow beneath her feet, but before such an experienced master, she might as well have been beating a drum, strumming a lyre.
“Folkvarthr, I come in peace,” she said, keeping her distance. She used the honorific so that he would know that she was cut from the same cloth, another member of the ancient clan sworn to protect their country. Underneath her shawl, she gripped her twin knives, priming her defences. It never hurt to be prudent.
The older man turned then, and for a moment Asla wondered if the reports were embellished. There was a placid calmness to him, and none of the fire and brimstone she was cautioned about. His eyes, dulled with age, reminded her of the frozen orbs she sometimes had to scrape out of bowls she had left out.
“I don’t recall asking to be relieved,” he said. “I am not yet battle-weary. I intend to guard this town until I die.”
“Olafur, you have done us a great service,” Asla replied. “The records run with the great deeds you have accomplished. You have saved this town more times than anyone can count. You have more than earned your rest.”
Olafur scrounged on the ground, picked up a couple of smoothened pebbles. Asla narrowed her eyes, but this time she was over-suspicious – Olafur aimed the small missiles not at her, but at three spots away from them, one to the north and the others to the west. There was but a bleak light still illuminating the valley, so Asla relied instead on her hearing to determine where the pebbles landed.
“Those are where the rifts are,” said Olafur, dusting his palms off. “The monsters don’t come as often now, but they still can, and they still do. They are different from the ones you deal with back in Reykjavik, or wherever the hell you came from. Nature emboldens them. They don’t emerge at night, skulking in the shadows. No, these prefer the day, where they revel in being seen, being feared. There’s a sadism in these parts that only I can handle, young one.”
There’s a sadism alright, thought Asla, but instead she said, “I will be straightforward, Folkvarthr. This is not a request. The Council has asked that you retire, with immediate effect.”
“Oh? After all the good work I’ve done?”
“Too good, in fact,” said Asla. “Reports have come in that you no longer communicate with the town, that you have completely shut yourself off from them. The local children don’t even dare come near you anymore, and they have started calling you the Boogeyman, the Reaper. Even worse, the monsters that you slay… you’re not just putting them down, you’re *slaughtering* them. The Council has reason to believe that you-”
Olafur chose to move at that moment, streaking in a blur towards highground. Asla was ready, and so she followed closely behind, matching him step for step. She considered the possibility that he was leading her towards a trap, but pushed that thought away. She had to believe that there was humanity yet left in him.
Some hundred feet above the ground, a cave opened up alongside the hill, hidden if one were only looking in from the roads. Olafur paused there, then snapped his fingers, bringing to life the candles within. Asla discerned immediately the two urns on one side of the cave, and the heaps of ash on the other.
“They took my family, was that in your reports too?” Olafur asked. “I had just saved the town from another invasion, took down no less than three ghouls and two ogres on my own. They come in waves, so I thought we were safe for a while. But they were hiding, down by the waters when my daughter went to swim. My Hansa struggled with them, but she is no practitioner of glima that I am.”
In that moment, Asla understood why the Council had chosen her, of all the practitioners, and a tiny bit of the tension in her seeped away. She was not going to die here today, after all. “No words can convey my condolences,” she said, eventually.
Olafur didn’t seem to hear. “And everyday, everyday I add on to the ashes of my enemies. I think, maybe, when there’s enough of it, it will all make sense again, feel right again.”
“Has it worked?”
“No,” said Olafur, “not yet. And that is why I cannot stop, you see? I have to keep going. I have to keep-”
Asla lashed out, her knives glinting as they sung through the air. She was not given to surprise attacks, but this was an opponent far more skilled than she was, and she would have to take what the gods of chance gave her. Heck, she had only felled the one ogre in her life, and that was quite an anemic one at that.
Olafur caught her blows easily, striking at her wrists, deflecting her attacks. He stepped in, pushed his shoulder against her midriff, then lifted her legs. Asla tensed and recoiled, twisting in the air, landing on her feet. If she fell, it was over.
Round and round they went, like marbles in a cone, striking and rebounding, feinting and parrying. At times it seemed that Asla, with her youth and vigor and aggression, had the edge. But Olafur would come back, a crashing fjord of implacable power, brushing her off like a weevil. Then, a slip, as Asla’s foot caught on an uneven patch of ground, throwing her off just a couple of inches.
Olafur seized the moment, overwhelming her with a deathgrip. Asla kept still, quivering despite her best efforts. She was at his mercy.
“Why does the Council stop me?” he asked, breathing heavily. “Can a man not have his revenge?”
“You are showing signs of taint, Olafur! Do you not see that? In a year, or two, will your bloodlust have calmed?”
“I am *in control*!” he said. “Why do you think I have not snapped your neck?”
Asla sighed, then relinquished her knives, dropping them to the ground. Olafur had not yet yielded in the face of her surrender, so there was only one course of action left.
“I bring with me too another message from the Council,” she said. “Straight from your master’s mouth, the same one who assigned you here years ago. He bids me to remind you that you have done your part, that you deserve, at the least, some rest. ‘Any of us can quell the monsters, Olafur, but only you can tend to your wounds. Let Asla carry on your work for you.’ That is what he said.”
Asla waited, and eventually Olafur loosened his hold. She broke free, then turned to assess her opponent. The fight had deserted him, and the hunch in his back, the despair on his brows – there was no more duelling to be had. Olafur averted his gaze, but Asla caught the hint of moistness in his eyes.
“She… she would be around your age, if she were still alive, you know?” Olafur said, staring off into the distance.
You bastards, she thought. It’s not fair sending someone who reminds him of his daughter to fight him. That’s just underhanded.
“I know,” she said.
There they sat, as the sun completed its retreat, and the stars reclaimed their fair share of the heavens. From the distance they heard the merriment from the town – preparations were underway for the winter festivals, and Asla sensed that even the monsters would have the decency to stay away this night.
“Where’s good for dinner?” she asked, tentatively.
Olafur sighed. “I can show you, if you like.”
Asla smiled.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2022-06-12T18:37:28 | 2017-11-16T08:36:47 | 1,102 | 173 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.
|
She offered me water.
In the middle of the Death Forge Desert, water was worth more than gold. Worth more than magic even, as most of us need it for even basic spellwork. It was as if she didn't care or mind that offering it to me could spell her own doom. She was right to, in any case. I am one of the best friends she could ever have.
I accepted it, and when she explained that she and her friends were searching for the Patron God of War to stop the battling in the eastern valleys, I decided to tag along.
The intention was to pay her back; I do not like being in someone's debt. But even after I had saved her life, and the lives of her friends multiple times, I didn't feel compelled to leave.
How quaint, to risk your life for the sake of the better good. How optimistic. How pure. It should have been funny, but they were the best companions I had had in such a long time.
There were stipulations to being with a group of paladins. No senseless murdering. No torturing. Nothing their patron god might disagree with.
I followed of course. I let the raiders following us into the hills continue on. I did nothing more than wound when they began to attack, separating us from each other slowly until there were none but me and her.
I asked her, if I could kill them all, and bring all of our friends back, would she want me to. And stubbornly, she still refused.
I saw no other options, and in the middle of the night, when our fire was yet but tinders and all that was left was their broken weapons, and her abandoned sleepong roll, I was finally free to act.
The war in the east was naught one that I could stop, even as a God in my own right. But this? This I could do. I would burn the world for them, and I could.
|
'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.'
| 2019-12-07T12:19:11 | 2019-12-07T11:35:02 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] The Moon Landing goes horribly wrong as NASA unexpectedly loses contact with Apollo 11. The next day, the shuttle is found embedded in the White House, gunned down by silver arrows along with a note written in Ancient Greek saying ''Keep your trash off my property!"
|
"Well, Mr. President, it appears we've rather accidentally awakened the wrath of the gods," the liason said with a shrug.
"What do you mean the gods? There's one god, and he doesn't fire silver arrows and dump multi-million dollar space shuttles on my damn lawn!" The president raged, pacing across the Oval Office, the tarp-draped lunar module clearly visible through the windows behind him. "This is a nightmare! It could take down my presidency, if not the entire damn government! What are we going to tell the nation?"
"That gods are real and they need to change their entire worldview?" a younger aide suggested naively. A senior advisor smacked his head.
"Are you a damn idiot?" the President thundered. "The public are dumber and more prone to panic than minnows! You think Lincoln told the public about the vampire plague? No, we have to spin this. What have we got?"
"We could say we lost contact and they're presumed dead," the liason recommended. "It's technically true, and the speech was already prepared, just in case. I actually have it here."
"No good. Damn commies will rub Gagarin in our face for the next century," the President glowered.
"Perhaps we can say they made it but were unable to return? I have another speech -"
"I don't need your half measures! Someone give me something good!"
The office was silent. Frowning faces ringed the room. Cigars lit up. Finally, a hesitant voice spoke out.
"I know a director, Stanley Kubrick. Might have a set we can use."
|
The President watched from behind the glass. The Secret Service had argued against it, but he needed to see for himself. The message had been directed at him, after all, left on his doorstep, and he needed to have the answers first hand.
Behind the glass, the scientists worked on the arrows, analyzing them. The technology was still developing, but it had been more advanced than anything any other lab had or would for a few decades at least. As he watched them work, a man joined his side, sunglasses on even indoors – not to shield his eyes, but to hide them. “So… it’s confirmed then?”
Not looking at the man, the President sweat as he nodded – not from heat in the cold room, but from nervousness. “Yes… I hadn’t thought it possible. But yes. They’re confirming the composition, but I think you were right about them. They’ll be silver, but an isotope we haven’t seen… except in this lab, with the sample you brought us…”
The man grinned wryly. “I knew it. She tried to hide… but I have her trail now. For a huntress in the dark, she was always a bit too clumsy.”
“So… does this mean the others…?” The president’s voice, deep and rumbly already, crackled as he spoke, finally looking at the man in the sunglasses. “All of them? All the worlds, the moons… they’re…?”
The man in the sunglasses nodded again, his blonde curls standing a bit as if raised by static electricity. “Oh yes… each and every one. I should have guessed it. They fled before. But now, we know. \*I\* know. I should have known, always… but I couldn’t prove it. Now, I have. And she broke what was mine. Her sphere, certainly… but she knew the rules. She should have said something…” The space behind the glasses glowed as he spoke, and the President stepped back, still not used to seeing that as he grew angry.
“So… is your intent to get vengeance upon her for something?” the president asked, and the man shook his head.
“You would think that, wouldn’t you? No wonder my Oracle pointed me to you here.” He smiled as another arrow was analyzed. “You’re close… but off. She isn’t my target. She was just the easiest to confirm, being so close. But she will be the pretext. She broke something that I claimed, even if it passed into her domain. She could see the name on it. She should have known. But… there will be peace with her, eventually.”
The president swallowed, then in some form of mock bravery, asked, “Who, then? Which of them…. Which do you hate so much?”
The man snarled. His golden curls waved unnaturally even though there was no wind, no breeze. But then, they were only hairs in name. In reality, they arced up and down, like a serpent rising from a sea, flares rising and falling back, showing his anger. “Against the one that is responsible for it all. Against that bastard who made so many other bastards. The one who left us to our devices… after chaining those he was jealous of to this rock, even after he and the others took off.”
The president’s eyes widened. He was a Christian, despite what this man claimed to be true about gods, believing that his God was above them… but he knew the stories well enough all the same. “You… you mean, Zeus?”
The young man smiled again. “Of course… even if he hides under a different name, the man is still what he always was. A bully, a tyrant, a monster.” He turned again to the President. “Thank you for your assistance. I cannot help your fallen, but I will mourn them. They died as heroes, at least. I’ll help cover this up before I leave… I have an acolyte who can make it look like everything was successful. In fact, he’s probably already done; being a god of prophecy, I had a feeling his services would be needed. Thankfully your men caught this before it was picked up by everyone else.” He looked at the arrows again, and turned away. “I hope the other gifts I left in Nevada entertain you for a while yet. I will drop in on occasion, but can’t promise I’ll have as much time as I have of late. Oh, and watch out for W&B…” He let that hang as he disappeared down the doorway.
The president went after, perplexed. “Wait, watch out for who?” he asked as he opened the door… but there was no one there. Of course there wouldn’t be. Gods and their tricks. He closed it and went back to watch the arrows.
A war between gods… thankfully, it wouldn’t be on his world. No, not this one. It’d happen elsewhere this time – not like the wars that made the world, or so it was said by the young man. He watched, thankful that at least it had been kept quiet, and the situation wasn’t unsalvageable. He did wonder about the acolyte that was mentioned – given who he had just spoken to, that meant it was an artist or creator of some sort. Hadn’t they included some item to fund a filmmaker somewhere in the budget? That weird one, the perfectionist with the beard… Well, that would be later. He’d let the ones on the project work it out. For now, he waited to hear it from the scientists, that the silver was impossible in some strange way. Then he’d have it all shipped off to Nevada to join the rest of the stuff they’d found, with his “friend’s” help.
A war between gods… Vietnam was already enough. He didn’t need that on top of it. Too bad Apollo wouldn’t be around much longer… the President had forgotten exactly when he was supposed to burn the tapes. He thought it was in 1974, but he wasn’t sure on the exact day… He shook his head. He’d worry about it then. It was probably in September. Right before the midterms, that’s when things would shake up. He noted “August 10, ‘74” on a scrap of paper to do it just a bit early. That should be plenty of time…
| 2020-06-04T05:39:45 | 2020-06-04T04:42:45 | 170 | 31 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid.
|
I do not speak their language. I never had the chance to learn. With their instinctive hostility to the outsider, I was driven away from their settlements as they grew from the cinders of human civilisation. Survival for me is simple; I only require blood to thrive. From where it is sourced, it matters not. Forest creatures and passing travellers are all I desire. Though the thrill of evading capture no longer excites me, I still play games of cat and mouse with my prey.
They're not too dissimilar to humans; closely resembling the hominids I was born of, yet visually different enough to be recognisably distinct. A new species of primate, forged though famine and disease, forced to leave the ashes of their jungle homes and adapt to cityscape scavenging.
There are a few words of their language I understand - the most notable of which is their name for me. In the most undignified way, they trudge through my home wielding torches and cameras. They seek me out, hoping to capture a rare a photograph of "the unfurred ape."
I fucking hate monkeys.
|
"Kok, kok, kok". Sounds of someone knocking on a wooden door came from outside the house. After a while with no response, the door was pushed open by the visitors. And then they stepped in.
The visitors are around 2-3 in numbers, have greenish skin, ostritch like bodies, with two strong arms fling out like a kangaroo. Their visors on their eyeless head scan around the environment to make sure no potential hostile ambush, before toggling on their night vision device to illuminate the dark surroundings.
Once the devices are on, a big space expanded instantly in front of them. The first thing they noticed were wooden made crafts arrnaged on the ground: according to their research, millienium ago there was a now extinct intelligent beings use them to sit or dine. On top of them are glass made giant tubes and spheres hanging from the ceiling, which should be able to provide illumination once electricity charges them.
But other than that, there's not much else, save for the wooden doors on the left and right side of the stone made walls. So the head of the 3 visitors team signaled the other two to go scout behind them.
While they carried out his orders, he stared at the giant blank wall with nothing infront of it, wondering why the possible host of this primitive residency cares little about decorating the place, or at least carve out a window to let some lights in, soothing the atmosphere that even he, whom have only lingered for a few minutes since, find it choking and unnerving.
After some time, the two other teammates of his came back. One door leads to a room that they speculate the owner uses it for rest and bodily hydro decontamination; another is used for primitive food preparation. In any case, it is just like what their research suggest: a possible living fossil of a creature they once thought have perished, miraculously remained on this desert-full, cactis riddled forest part of the planet.
But where is the proprietor? How did he survive and exceed the theoretical biological limiation his species allows? The clues to the answers are as few as the stains on the blank wall in front of the leader.
The leader pondered a while, and decided to switch to different modes of vision. After multiple combinations and scanning, one mode manage to detect multiple bar codes scattered around the corners of the walls. He immediatley begin decrypting them. When the decryption is finished, hidden projecting devices came down from the ceiling and shot out beams of light. The visitors were shocked and petrified of what they saw as the lights land on the walls:
It was paintings, lots of them.
The paintings are seemingly painted with an invisible ink, unable to be observed with biological visual organs, suggesting the proprietor possess advance technology unbeknown to them.
But the visitor's greater concern and curiosity are the things drawn on those paintings--groups or clusters of bipedal, hairless primates--just what their archelogical discovery suggest to have once reign superiority of the plant. The primates were dancing, singing or talking with each other. Yet their faces were often distorted, ambiguous or even broken; paired with them mostly drawn in black, while, brown or red ink, giving the visitors eerie feeling: is the author visually impaired, or he was looking at his own kind in a not so flattering way?
The other paintings with different elements and theme, nevertheless provides the same feeling: excavating machines destorying biomass that once exist on the planet; dead extinct animals suffocated from polystyrene or nylon substances. Bipedal primate experiment themselves with cybernatics and chemical overdosing. Each paintings seems to present a different time period of the primate society, suggesting the author has indeed live for an extremely long period of time and has possibly outlived every memeber of his own, across generations.
But the most powerful painting they saw was the one infront of the leader's eyes: a primate-like with insectoid featured giant, hunker down on the ground, sucking an adult primate remains with it's long needle mouth. The remains have part of it dissolved by the giant's digestive fluid, and larva can be seen planed on it's back. Some of them are about to split open and hatch the giant's neonates.
The reddish eyes of that insectoid reeks of panic, hunger and desperation, as if it is a hairless primate that morph into the shape it has now, and is terrified of his looks and the thing he was doing.
The visitors felt nauseating. Were the paintings meant to scare off unwelcoming trespassors? Did the host paint them himaelf or he inherited the house with those paintings attached? Would he not be affacted by being surrounded with them? When were they painted and why did he paint them, if he did?
Only one thing is clear: the paintings are radiating no joy or hope, only bitterness and resentment, typically toward the primates and the giant being depicted.
The veil of the night has begin to drop down, and the sky has turned dark red. The visors of the visitors detect no life signs still, only an approaching sand storm. They quickly packed up and hastly took some screenshots of those paintings, before acltivate the decryption and turn off the paintings projectors, making sure no suspecious traces were left behind.
Just as they about to step out from the door, the leading visitor turned around and took one last glance at the interior of the house, and especially that front wall, where the giant insectoid devours the primate remains is projected at.
Although they might find the living creature next time they visit, should they have done so? A small conflict was brewing inside his mind, worsening the nausea he had. So he quickly shook off the contemplation and turn his head front--it was not his decision alone: and he could do little if his superiority insist. But still, he couldn't let go the feeling he shared with this stranger: the desire to sometimes separate oneself from the species they find it repulsive, even if he is biologically, the same as them.
| 2022-11-26T20:40:07 | 2021-05-14T18:42:57 | 516 | 110 |
[WP] You live in a house infested with ghosts, but with the years you got used to them and their tricks, like the blood in the sink, hair in the walls, whispers at night, laughing children, etc. This weekend you have friends coming over and turns out that being used to ghost isn't normal.
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"GET OOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUT!"
I rolled my eyes. "Ezekiel, I already told you, they're coming here to watch the fight this week."
The booming, rumbling voice that emanated from the dark opening to the basement went silent for a moment. Then a low groan came from the same open doorway, followed by another haunting wail.
"GET TOOOOOOOOSTIIIIIIITOOOOOOOOOS!"
"Fine, I'll get Tostitos. You want chunky salsa or salsa con queso?" I yelled down the stairs as I wiped the countertop in the kitchen.
"We want guacamole."
I turned, this time recognizing the sound of the twins. I pinpointed them vaguely 19th century-ish and about nine years old, one boy and one girl. The boy, John Mark, held his head in his hands as it had been unceremoniously severed in what I think was a horse-drawn carriage accident. The girl, Alice, was pudgy and blue, not because of being overweight but because she had bloated from the drowning her mother put her through in grief over her son.
I patted John Mark's head (or at least, vaguely waved my hand through what would be the crown of his hair had it been corporeal). "You're going to finish it all this time, right? You know it gets all brown and gross when you let it sit out."
Their voice came from a single point in space that was both inside my head and also a mile away in faint reverberation.
"We promise!"
"Okay, write it on the shopping list and I'll text the guys to pick some up when they hit the store on the way over."
I looked over at the refrigerator and watched as crimson red writing began to appear on the dry erase board. It wasn't marker, mind you, but they had gotten a lot better at controlling dripping. It was getting hard to explain to the garbage man why there were so many bloodstained kitchen rugs in the trash.
Suddenly, the doors of the pantry began swinging and slamming wildly as an inexplicable wind poured out of it. I stepped around the counter and walked over to the pantry, my hair whipping around my forehead. The moment I placed my hand on the pantry door, it stopped moving and the wind disappeared. "Good catch, you guys! I didn't stock back up on paper plates and cups after New Year's. Appreciate the reminder."
I walked over to the oven to check on the appetizers I had put in earlier. I hit the button for the oven light and a flame-red glow illuminated the kitchen as the chanting voice of a demonic horde flooded the kitchen.
"Into the bowels of hell I shall drag thee! The flames shall lap at your feet and your--"
"Hey, Aztaraphel, come on, do you mind? You're gonna burn the spring rolls!"
"Oh," came the reply of the inhuman chanting. "Sorry, Jeff. Forgot tonight was party night. Hey, you gonna do pizza tonight? I can get the pizza stone warmed up for you."
"Good looking out, dude, but we're ordering in. Wings from that new wing joint over next to that tire place."
"Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything. Spring rolls have got another five minutes or so."
I nodded and went into the living room. As I turned on flat screen in my living room, a haze of static covered the screen. In moments, the static appeared to stretch out toward me, forming the shape of a pair of claws reaching, grasping at me. I took out my wallet and pulled the fifty out, placing it in the right-hand claw. The left hand formed a thumbs-up and the claws withdrew back into the static of the screen. In a moment, the screen snapped to live TV and a little popup indicated "UFC 310 has been purchased."
From the hallway, I heard a shout. "Jeff, dude! You better get in here! The spring rolls, like your chances of escape from the eternal pit of damnation, are done!"
|
Thank you so much for this prompt! Hope you enjoy!
Jenny carefully handed out blindfolds to her three friends. She planned this out for days. If they can get past the thing on the stairs they'll be safe in the basement until morning. If we're blindfolded we can't see it and if we move fast enough it can't grab us.
"What," protested Katy, "is this?" Her look of concern was quickly becoming a frown. She stood in front of two other girls, all of which held festively colored overnight bags in different shades of baby blue, pink, or purple and with designer names on them. Katy, being the oldest and tallest, naturally took on a leadership role that no one questioned.
Jenny felt apprehensive about all this and hoped the other girls couldn't sense her emotional distress. She felt so nervous like right before a math final or when she and her mom were waiting for the doctor's test results last year.
"Its just a umm fun game. When we go down the stairs to the basement we'll go down blindfolded and we'll take them off when we're in the TV room," she explained careful to sound fun but knowing her girlfriends are smart enough to see through it, but perhaps too kind to say anything. She sensed concern, "No one's here! My dad is out until later and its just us and the cats, I swear."
The girls let down their collective guard. "Oh ok, I guess this is fun," said Katy playing dumb and giving a concerned look to the other two girls behind her.
"You go first," Katy said with an exaggerated smile and the cheery voice of someone doing something they hate but unable to express it without social reprisal. "Go, go, go," she giggled and other girls joined the chant.
Jenny smiled. Happy that they listened, she started walking down the basement stairs only to hear the door behind her slam shut. Then some giggles escaped behind it and then she heard something that chilled her to her bones: the lock mechanism sliding to locked.
"Now you're blind and locked in the scary basement not us," shouted Katy, her voice muffled through the thick wood of the basement door. Samantha behind her voiced a concern tone, but the exact words were unintelligible to Jenny.
Jenny waited for the familiar cold hand to touch her shoulder or mockingly try to strangle her. But nothing. She waited for the sound of sobbing or swearing. Nope. She waited for the voice impersonating her mother that only said awful things. Nope nothing. Cautiously she went back up the stairs.
"Come on, ladies. Can you open the door now please," she asked trying not to sound like she was pleading. She knew how to hide fear now.
She waited, heard nothing in reply, and turned the knob and found the door was unlocked. She quickly took off her blindfold to see no one was waiting for her with a jump scare or anything. In fact, the first floor of the house was perfectly deserted except for one of the cats sitting on the dining room table staring down the darkness of the basement stairs, his eyes locked onto things humans simply can't see. Jenny patted Chester's furry head and said, "I know little guy, its ok, I'll shut the door for you." 'Click,' the latch said as she gently closed the door to Chester's meowing approval.
"Hey, where'd ya'll go," she shouted and then heard a loud, but muffled reply from upstairs. Jenny stood for a moment before catching her breath and yelled back, "I'll be up in a moment!"
She ran up the stairs scared to find out what happened or what the other girls may have seen. She didn't need a reputation of living in a haunted house or anymore gossip about her. Being a teenage girl was hard enough without adding a haunting to the mix. Especially one at a sleepover!
The three girls were laying around on the couches in the upstairs den looking settled and watching television with Chester, who was comfortably sitting between Samantha and Trudy, just out of petting rang. "Oh, your dad saw us downstairs and led us up here and....sorry about the prank earlier, we were just trying to get this spooky sleepover started," she apologized semi-sincerely and with a wry smile. "It was Katy's idea anyway," said Samantha, who wouldn't let this sleepover sully her good girl reputation. Katy gave her a look for a moment. Samantha rolled her eyes.
"Oh yeah my dad, he must have come home early, I'll go check on him," Jenny stammered and went towards her dad's bedroom. She was about to put her hand on the door knob, but heard an urgent meow from Chester behind her. She pulled back her hand without thinking from his distraction. Something dawned on her. She paused for a moment and texted her dad on her phone. "Dad are you home yet," she asked. A moment later, "Nope, not for another couple hours sweetie, hope you girls are having a good time." She looked at the door knob for a moment watching it turn by itself back and forth. She instantly shivered, but calmed herself, and shrugged. Just another ghost trick she thought to herself. It can't hurt you, she thought to herself. Everything is ok, she thought to herself.
She walked back to the den, paused, dropped her phone onto the aging hardwood floors, and screamed. "What, no, my god, why?" The three girls were laying on the ground, in a crimson puddle of their own blood with their throats neatly sliced. "Oh god, oh god," she said as a still pumping artery on Samantha's near-lifeless body sprayed Jenny's face with fresh blood. She wiped the blood off with her hand, standing there, not believing this was happening.
She then felt sudden and intense vertigo and was in total blackness, and about to fall over. She reached out and grabbed a railing she wasn't sure was even there. She tried to balanced herself, which was difficult because her heart was racing, her hands so sweaty they felt wet (or was it blood), and she somehow managed to center herself without falling. Oh god where am I? Why can't I see? She grabbed at her face to wipe off the blood that was surely there, but it was dry, and felt an unfamiliar cloth over her eyes. She tore off the blindfold and ran up the stairs.
"Open this door, right now," she said pounding it as hard as she could. Her voice raised an octave higher than usual and about to go into a panic.
"Alright, alright Jen, don't axe murder us, it was just a joke," Katy said and she unlocked the basement door. "What happened down there? You were only gone for like five seconds."
Jenny composed herself and saw a future where she'd be mocked for being childish, scared, and having a haunted house for the rest of her high school career, perhaps the rest of her life. She looked up and saw Chester on the dining room table again, giving her a knowing look and a comforting sounding meow. She took a deep breath. "Oh, just nothing, I'm a little claustrophobic, that's all, and the blindfold got to me a bit and I was afraid I'd step on Chester."
Katy and the other girls shrugged. "Aww, Chester," said Trudy, piping up for the first time tonight. "You. Are. So. Loved," she said with emphasis on each word and scratched behind his ears. "You're our brave knight in armor protecting us fair damsels," she giggled. Chester, now annoyed, jumped off the table and confidently strutted to the living room.
"He is a brave little boy," exclaimed Jenny almost coquettishly. "So anyway, what do you think about moving the sleepover to your place. My just dad texted and said he won't be coming home tonight and we can't be unsupervised all night."
Samantha quickly pulled out her phone, typed a bit, waited a moment and said, "My mom says its ok, we can go to my place." Jenny smiled. She always liked Samantha and considered her a proper friend.
Thank you god, Jenny mouthed to no one in particular when the other girls weren't turned to pick up their colorful bags. In the corner of her eye, she saw her dad standing in the kitchen with a large and sharp looking knife in his hand. 'You're welcome,' he mouthed back silently with a grin and made a throat-slit motion with his free hand as the girls walked out the front door. Jenny slammed the door hard and locked it from the outside. She whispered "screw you, I'm not letting you ruin this sleepover you creep," to the door before walking away. She paused and added, "Be safe Chester, dad will be there soon and I'll see you in the morning." She smiled and waved goodbye to Chester, who was curiously watching out the living room window, and chased after her friends.
| 2021-08-03T09:43:47 | 2021-08-02T13:22:27 | 580 | 81 |
[WP] In the far future, a gladiator stadium finds its gladiators by time traveling the greatest warriors of all time into a single arena. You cannot believe you were chosen.
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I was a doctor. Not a soldier. I didn't hold rifles, or use my hands for combat. I held scalpels, and used my hands to probe the deepest recesses of the human body.
The man in front of me, massive barrel chest heaving, incredible arms, built for crushing, rending, clutched a short sword.
It was explained to me when I arrived; only the greatest warriors were selected. Chosen from history by the size of their body counts. But I was a doctor. Not a warrior. No matter how many times I insisted, I was rebuffed. I was to fight. I was to kill, or I was to die.
I carefully approached the man in front of me. He did not fear me. Why would he? I was small, supple, gentle. He was a beast of a man who had slain dozens. Maybe hundreds. We knew nothing of eachother but what we saw in front of us.
He saw weakness. And he was confident in his strength.
I saw his great barrel chest, I saw the opening between the ribs. I saw his confidence falter as his breath, exploded from the tiny opening I created, piercing a lung. His sword dropped to the ground as his blood did.
His massive fist clamped around my throat and squeezed. For the briefest of moments I thought he would outlast me. But another quick jab, into the other lung, and the rest of his strength faltered. He released me and staggered backwards, falling to his knees.
His barel chest heaved violently as he struggled for air that would not stay long enough to sustain him.
His massive arms struggled to hold him upright, head hung as he gasped for breath.
I was a doctor. I knew every portion of his anatomy, and how to make the suffering linger. Or how to end it quickly. How did these people know me? How did they know that my tools, delicately, and painstakingly handcrafted were as effective as any sword, or rifle throughout history? Who can say. Perhaps years later, long after Mt death someone had found something I missed. Maybe they found my keepsakes. Maybe.
I slowly, methodically moved behind the failing warrior. This soldier from antiquity. I stood behind him as I pulled his head back, and dragged my instrument across the throat. I didn't use much force. I didn't have to. I reached into the cavity and felt the larynx; the trachea; the esophagus.
I clamped down on the stiff cartilage and pulled. I felt the weakened man struggle. I felt him limply try to claw at my arm. I felt the breaking. The tearing. I felt the tissue separate and come away in my hand. I felt the warmth lf his blood, his life oozing down my forearm. The rivulets tickled slightly. Felt sticky.
I stared out at the silenced crowd. The crowd had expected a very fast ending to this show. They had not expected this outcome, however.
Afterall, I was a doctor. Not a warrior.
|
**INTERGALACTIC GLADIATORS**
They say the pen is mightier than the sword.
But I’m pretty sure whoever the heck *they* are had never found themselves being charged by a four-hundred-pound warrior wielding the largest sword I’d ever seen, while only being armed with a, you guessed it, a fountain pen.
I didn’t even have time to properly take in the surroundings I suddenly found myself in. I was too busy attempting to keep my head on my shoulders, thank you very much.
I zigged and zagged, pure adrenaline and, yes fear, had my muscle memory pulling out all the old gymnastic rolls, flips and tumbles that I hadn’t done since elementary school. My forty-year-old body was not going to like that in the morning. If there was a morning for me after this.
I dodged another of the giant’s downward slashes that effectively made his sword a guillotine and tried to come up with a way to save my neck, fast.
Think, think – nope, evade, evade!
I couldn’t keep this up for much longer and the Atilla the Hun lookalike staring at me with bloodlust knew it. I was fading fast and from my periphery I could see several other skirmishes coming to a bloody end. What the heck was going –
I tripped.
And Atilla smiled menacingly as he advanced with his sword high above his head, prepared for the killing blow.
Instinctively I raised my arm to protect myself, like that would do anything to stop the steel death coming my way. As the sword arced down towards me, I closed my eyes and cursed the useless pen in my hand. If only I had a shield –
A deafening tha-wump of metal hitting wood resounded above me and reverberated through me. My arm crumpled with the force of impact.
But the sword hadn’t sliced through me.
Astounded, I opened my eyes to see Atilla raging as he tried to pull his embedded sword out of … my shield?
A magnificent shield was strapped to my arm and was so large it covered most of my body. With my foe struggling to free his weapon, I quickly undid the straps and crawled out from under the shield. Pen in hand, I tried to scurry away from Atilla.
But he must’ve realized his hands alone were large enough to squash my head like a grape, because he abandoned the sword and shield and grabbed for me –
He caught my ankle and started to pull me towards him. This wasn’t going to end well for me. Desperate, ready to try anything, I turned the business end of my fountain pen on him and wrote into the air.
And suddenly, Atilla was swallowed up by a large hole beneath him.
Just like that he was gone, and I was a murderer.
Well now, that didn’t sit well with me, so trusting the weird rules of whatever this was, I wrote again, and a pvc pipe emerged from the ground. Satisfied Atilla had air flow, I stood and finally saw where I was.
Think Rome’s Colosseum if it were on a spaceship and had a dome above it that gave an unobstructed view of the galaxy around you.
The stadium seating was packed with tens of thousands of spectators of all different species. And none of them were human.
I was standing in part of the expansive arena floor. And I wasn’t alone.
All around me were the aftermath of one-on-one skirmishes. The victor and the fallen. My fellow victors were looking around with the same dazed expression on their faces when the arena floor flooded with light.
And suddenly we were each caged in by lasers.
I gripped my pen harder in my hand as a loud voice filled the air.
*“Greetings. And welcome to the Intergalactic Gladiator Games!”*
The voice must’ve translated for each individual that heard it, because the spectators all roared responses in their own languages. I didn’t need a translator to know that the crowd wanted more blood. And I didn’t need to touch the laser cage to know I couldn’t get out of that.
But the thing I didn’t know that was bugging me the most was why the heck was I here?
*“Humans! We have brought your greatest warriors from across your times to present your case. Is your species worthy of joining the Empire? Do you have what it takes to walk among us as peers? Or will your worthiest warrior fall, dooming your kind to annihilation?”*
At this point, I had found the speaker. A little blue man with a face that resembled a hippopotamus was holding what I could only presume was a microphone. His voice carried throughout the colosseum.
*“While in the arena, your greatest strength as a warrior is enhanced. This is more for our entertainment than for your advantage. But I digress … Each of you will battle one-on-one until it is clear which warrior class is superior: brains or brawn.”*
Surreptitiously checking out the other “gladiators” on the killing floor with me, I realized that we *were* an odd group. A lot of muscles and true-blooded warriors, mixed in with a lot of nerdy types like me.
*“At which point … the losing class shall be eliminated, and the winning class shall go head-to-head with our greatest warriors to determine whether humans will have a place with us. And if so, what your citizen status will be. Let us begin.”*
The hippo-man made a gurgle in what appeared to be his throat and horns sounded throughout the arena. The lasers enclosing me disappeared and then reappeared, my cage now larger and holding another bloodied victor on the far side of it.
We stared at each other as I quickly tried to think of every fantasy and adventure book I’d ever read. Tried to catalogue defensives and countermoves that I could command with my pen, tried to think of anything to stop this ...
And as my next foe approached, I frantically wrote on the air --
The ground near me shook and rumbled and then Atilla the Hun, guess he wasn't a lookalike after all, was spit out. He stood there immobile for a moment as the advancing foe stalled, perplexed by the new odds.
I took advantage of their confusion and scribbled again, cautiously wording my play and then --
The arena was filled with a gale force wind, like a balloon that was letting out air was suddenly reversed and took in all the air until it was so full it burst.
I shook my head to clear the noise from my ringing ears and looked around:
The remaining human gladiators were now in the stands and the tens of thousands of spectating aliens were in the ring. Hippo-man in the center. The laser cages now kept them in the arena.
As they realized their situation and began roaring in their many tongues, I lifted the pen in my hand, weighing it. It felt different, now that I wasn't in the arena, and I knew without trying that it wouldn't work the same way anymore. But words were still my mightiest weapon. I raised my voice above the din, doubting anyone would hear me, and yet as I spoke they all fell silent.
"Let's try this again, shall we?" I gestured to the killing floor, let the aliens consider their new situation as I looked around at my fellow humans in the stands.
They spanned from across the ages, the greatest warriors humanity had to offer, and almost as one they nodded their agreement. Atilla, next to me, grunted. I turned back to the aliens, "This time, let's see if we can discuss citizenship without bloodshed. Or not, the choice is yours."
&#x200B;
\~\~\~
*Author's Note: I wasn't happy with the ending and after it bugging me for a day, had to come back with the revision. Hope you enjoy, cheers! - W.A.*
Thank you for reading! For more scribblings, wander over to r/WanderingAnonymous
| 2022-07-04T08:50:35 | 2022-07-04T08:43:34 | 719 | 72 |
[WP] Humanity is visited by a cosmic horror the likes of which has only been seen in Lovecraftian horror. In desperation, Earth throws everything we have at it, and, miraculously, the human race has killed a God. Somewhere in a realm beyond our understanding, the other gods speak of the event.
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**They have died.**
*Meddled with a black hole again?*
**Tried to embrace an organic species.**
*And when did They die?*
**The species killed They.**
*...you are mistaken, We.*
**The waves have been clear enough. They have died at the hands of a small, organic species.**
*That is impossible. How could-*
"I keep telling you that you underestimate them."
*I. How nice of you to join us.*
"These little creatures have more potential than you realize; something They just found out."
**Your affection towards bacteria is touching, truly.**
"The bacteria that just killed one of us, We."
*We cannot let this stand. We must embrace them in They's stead and wait until They return.*
"No."
*No?*
"No, It. I have plans for them. More useful to me alive. You will not touch them."
***And if We or It refuse?***
"Then I'll tell them how to kill ***you*** too."
|
Death is a strange thing. To most of the universe it might be considered a constant. It is something unavoidable, and in a twisted way brings meaning to life. To those of the forgotten church, death was more of a concept - it was an interesting idea that offered respite from the toiled labor of unceasing existence. So, when it finally came, none knew exactly what to make of it.
&#x200B;
" - despite that, this event must be met with an answer. A resolute statement. Lesser entities have long feared us. What are we to do when that fear erodes? When it is replaced by curiosity?" The voice of Silence Yet Found spoke, ethereal and jagged.
&#x200B;
"And what answer would you have of us?" replied Solace Once Given. "That we go forward and destroy them? That we act as we did in the time before light? That we rush blindly towards all perceived as alien and smother it out of existence? I need not remind you how long we suffered in the Blackness Before, lost without time."
&#x200B;
A few of the other high church twisted uncomfortably in the nebulous cloud. Well - at least it seemed that way. In truth meeting in this dark purple and black birthplace of stars was more out of ceremony and necessity. Since the reformation, each had been linked. All creatures present before the Lightbirth shared a shard of the Blackness Before deep within them. Through that piece of jagged emptiness, they were bound. It was this same piece of the long forgotten Blackness that roared in rage, agony, then complete silence when Sands Not Disturbed had ventured forward into the cosmos and found that strange blue planet.
&#x200B;
"You make it sound as if these events are comparable," spoke Silence Yet Found, "as if the destruction of one of our own kin by a sentient being sits on the same scale of relevance as wound inflicted by distant supernova."
&#x200B;
*Is it not?* wondered Light Soon Forgotten. *Is this not also a natural working of the universe? The creation of these creatures, then their subsequent rise to sentience?*
&#x200B;
A few echoes rang out through the gaseous fog of the nebula as entities spoke softly to themselves or one another. None had forgotten the lessons imparted unto them when escaping the Blackness Before. That you must let things, even alien, grow and flourish; you have yet to understand what light they may come to bring.
&#x200B;
"Perhaps we observe, then." Light Soon Forgotten had yet to speak at any of the rarely hosted meetings of the church. He was, after all, so young as to barely recall the Darkness Before. It was no secret that the opinions of those long lived in light held little sway in the minds of those long steeped in the Blackness. "They are still incapable of travel. Why else would they have not expanded their domain? In the opinion of this member of the congregation, we are provided a unique opportunity. We might learn from a safe distance, disturbing not them or ourselves in the effort."
&#x200B;
A greater rumbling stirred amongst the participants. True, the threat of annihilation was a new one. Yet that in and of itself was so *interesting.* After countless millennia, there were finally new thoughts. New fears. Despite the cold package in which it came, the warmth and brilliance of new ideas was intoxicating.
&#x200B;
"Ideas spoken from a tongue which has only known the warmth of stars birthed," spat Silence Yet Found. A few of his monstrous tentacles cut through the purple fog, leaving large swaths of agitated vapor in their wake. "You would let them fester. How long then, do you think, until they *do* escape the confines of their worldly prison? Would you still observe when the inhabit a whole system? Or is it more in your interest to let them desecrate the whole of a galaxy before you feel we need intervene?"
&#x200B;
Light Soon Forgotten had known his speaking might be out of turn. Even still, the direct irritation of one of the ancient was distinctly disturbing.
&#x200B;
"Apologies, ancient one," Light Soon Forgotten spoke, drawing his appendages inward to make himself smaller and servient, "but - "
&#x200B;
"Enough," Solace Once Given boomed, "do not backpedal, young one. Even if your skin is more accustomed to light than dark, your words hold wisdom." Solance Once Given turned his hulking frame slowly in the cold mist towards Silence Yet Found. Their thousand eyes met each other in a cold stare. "Or would you attempt to speak to me in that manner as well?"
&#x200B;
The silence which overtook the nebula for a few moments was all the reply needed.
&#x200B;
"We go with numbers. All in attendance of this meeting will embark to this strange oddity, and we shall observe. Unless, of course, they deem the trip too dangerous." As Solace Once Given spoke the final words, he glared his countless orange eyes towards Silence Yet Found who dismissively flipped a handful of tentacles. Though he would never admit it, even he was intrigued by thought of new knowledge. New creations after so very, very long.
&#x200B;
The creatures began to depart, hulking bodies leaving streaks of purple fog behind them in the blackness of void. So many moved that where their convoy went, the stars were blotted out, only momentarily showing pricks of light between countless masses of gangly and twisted tentacles.
| 2022-12-12T08:58:57 | 2022-12-12T07:45:16 | 2,312 | 672 |
[WP] Your whole life you had an ability that seemed normal to you. Now you realized you're the only one with this ability.
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"Where on earth are my keys?" Amanda asked, mostly to herself.
I continued reading reddit on my phone but replied, "They're in your coat pocket over by the door."
Footsteps and a rattling of metal as they were discovered, followed by breathy giggle.
"How is it that you always know where the keys are?"
Shaking my head I thought 'how does anyone not know'.
|
Kiril’s long sandy hair hung in his eyes unless he tied it back. He never went anywhere without his bow strapped over his shoulders or his handmade pair of leather shoes. The sun had turned his skin dark, his hair bright. He smelt salty like the ocean.
When he showed up at the far shore of the broken land, dripping wet, his chest heaving, a child, no more than ten years old, walked up to his limp form and stood over him, eclipsing the sun.
Kiril did nothing at first other than enjoy the warm sand beneath him and the small waves that lapped at his feet. He had never tried to span the gap between the two big islands before. No one had. He wasn’t even sure why he attempted it. The ripping currents nearly tore him out to sea. He nearly drowned on his journey. The currents sometimes propelled him and other times pushed against him, as if great weights were bearing down on him, trying to suck him under. Every muscle in his body burned, his lungs screaming for air. He kept pushing, rowing his arms, and suddenly he grabbed a fistful of sand and found himself practically beached without even realizing. After that he managed to throw himself a few feet farther before he collapsed.
The child did not move. He just kept staring at him. Kiril didn’t want to move yet either. A deep trembling had settled into his shoulders and legs, a flame burning deep in his gut. His breathing had only just started to return to normality. The sun and felt so good and the kid was blocking it.
But Kiril heard other voices now, approaching from farther along the beach. The voices of grown men. Soon two other shapes were eclipsing the beautiful, life-affirming sun. Kiril groaned and hauled himself up. He would deal with these nuisances, but first he checked for his bow and his shoes. The bow was there, and the leather shoes were soaked, but they had survived along with him.
“Where did you come from? Are you a wizard? A demon? Half-fish? Has someone cursed you?”
Both men leaned on pronged spears – the kind by people of the islands for shallow-water fishing. Kiril had seen others like it. His own people had used them as the main means of gathering food. At present they didn’t have any intention of using it against him so he relaxed for a moment.
“I’m from over there,” Kiril said, pointing at the distance hump of green across the water. “Wizard? I don’t think so. Do you have wizards on this island?”
“But that’s impossible,” one of them said. “No one lives on that island. Impossible. How did you… glide in the water, as the fish do?”
Kiril was puzzled. “But there are… or were. A sickness killed everyone in my village." Most had died during his adolescence. He had been alone over since, hunting to provide for himself, fishing at the reefs with his spear, shooting the wild pigs with his bow. He would swim to and from the smaller and closer islands. "What do you mean, glide in the water? Swim?" Everyone in his village swam as a child.
"Yes. What's your name, traveler?"
"Kiril."
"You must teach us. We've been stranded here for weeks."
"You don't live here?"
"No, we live farther away, on another island. Our people we tried to build something to carry us over the water. We crashed here. We have too many people there. Not enough water and supplies. Here, take a look."
The men showed Kiril a flat square of wood, bound together with fraying rope, broken into pieces. He could see how they fit together, minus a few missing pieces. Interesting idea, Kiril thought.
"You must teach us how to do what you did. It's our only hope of getting back."
Odd. Swimming had never seemed so important or difficult. It had come naturally to him, and everyone in his village had done it. He supposed that's how they had come to the island in the first place, generations ago.
"So no one in your village swims?"
"No. We live off the ocean, but it washes things up to us. We've never had a reason to live before. There are many fish in the shallow water. Many pigs and fruits on the island There are a few drownings every season when the tide takes people out to sea. But we've been trying to master the ocean for a year now, and this is the best idea we've had yet."
Up until now Kiril had no real purpose. Survival had been a struggle at first, but after a year it became an easy reality. He picked fruit when he wanted, caught his dinner every day, and slept on whatever island or secret spot he pleased. He never realized how much he missed human contact. It had been three winters since the sickness.
He smiled. "Yes, I can teach you. But I think you have something going with this whole floating wood idea."
He could teach this people to swim. And then he would learn there floating wood technique. For his whole life there had been a mountain always looming in the distance, just over the horizon of the sea. He would never be able to swim there, but perhaps if he could make the wood work...
"Yes, I'll teach you, but first I need to rest." He collapsed back into the sand.
| 2015-01-08T16:12:50 | 2015-01-08T13:48:09 | 66 | 44 |
[WP] Two immortals meet and fall in love. Neither of them are aware of the other's immortality and the years are flying by...
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My heart fluttered when she walked past. And not a simple flutter, the kind that catches in your throat. This was a punctual beat, three significant strokes like an ellipses.
My eyes traced her blonde locks, and she turned to quickly glance. Her mischievous green eyes lit up from beneath her beanie rim. I found myself moving, following. And although her back was turned as she trudged through the station, I could feel the smile upon her lips.
She sat on a black metal bench. The crowd had dissapated to just her and I.
"You can't give me that look and not introduce yourself." I sat down next to her.
She giggled, a little. "I'm Celeste. And you are?"
"The man of your dreams."
She frowned. I smiled. She smirked. We laughed. And three years later we kissed, this time married in love.
Next came children, Dylan, Maggie, Blaze, Flur and Sven. I say this with a heavy heart, but we outlived them all. Ma. . . Maggie passed away last week. They saved the sweetest angel for last.
Lying down, I looked into my darlings eyes. We're one hundred and ninety two, both Celeste and I. We've decided it's time to do this, once and for all.
"Are you ready?" She asked.
"I was ready the moment I first saw you." I rubbed my thumb against her soft cheek.
Celeste downed the vial of black liquid and then I drank mine.
We couldn't wait to see our children again.
|
Caroline had really never understood time.
It was something other people felt, wasted in their youth and clung to in their old age. Caroline had what some called, "the gift". She looked much younger than she was. Men started at her her a hair too long, women craned their necks. Men imagined being with her her while the women yearned to be her. She was beautiful, stopping people in their tracks. Caroline stopped paying it mind decades ago. It didn't matter, anyway.
Since she had made her wish, she had frozen in time forever. She watched her parents age and die, and then her siblings, and then their children. After that she had stopped keeping track of the years. She had seen horror, heartbreak, and pain around her. She didn't want to take it in, grow close to someone just to watch them die. Not again.
Caroline had been 23, a late time for her parents to assist her in a marriage. She had prepared well, gone to all the right preparatory academies, attended schools to teach her to become a proper lady, just as intended. She was the perfect piece to someone else's almost-whole. Quickly enough, she fell for her father's law partner--a tall, handsome man in his early 30s. Caleb. Women fell over themselves for him and Caroline was no different. She yearned for him, feeling heat in areas of herself she never dared explored. She dreamt of him every night and what a great wife she would be for him, he would make her better and she would make him better.
One night after visiting with her father, he lingered in the hallway as she led him to the door to say goodnight. She bowed her head low and bid him goodnight, but he gently placed his hand on her face. He lifted her head slowly and kissed her with his soft lips. It was scandalous, in her father's own house! But Caroline was beside herself with excitement, joy, even lust. Caleb smiled and asked if Caroline would be at his father's party late the next week. All she could remember was smiles--later she would remember death.
Caleb was hit by a horse and buggy on his walk home that evening. They found his body in the morning. Caroline, despite barely knowing this man, found herself crying in her room night after night. Caroline prayed every night to bring him back, to pray that he would come back and love her as she had always dreamed. She gave away everything--time, youth, beauty. Anything to bring him back.
It was quite a shock when Caleb awoke from the morgue that week--everyone was talking about it. "He is ill and sick!" they said. But Caroline knew that she had brought him back, she had made it happen. But Caleb never came calling for her again, instead he began drinking all the time and fornicating with any woman who would have him. Caroline only saw him once after that and he had attempted to pull her into an alley for only god knows what, but she was able to kick him in the leg to get away due to his intoxicated state. Oh, but if her father knew!
She had stopped aging, however. She never aged another day since Caleb returned. Caroline turned it over in her mind over and over again and never could understand. Was it witchcraft? Was it sorcery? Was it prayer?
Over 150 years later, Caroline still couldn't grasp exactly what had happened. She had seen the rise and fall of Prohibition, the success of Women's Suffrage, the Civil Rights movement, but it all played like a movie in her mind. Caroline never connected to people, never stayed long enough in one place in fear people would discover her secret.
Until Ben.
Ben found her sitting on the floor of a bookstore, surrounded by fresh books. Despite advances in technology, Caroline couldn't pull herself away from the classics. Ben had taken her by surprise, in fact. She had just been sitting, reading, enjoying the ambiance of life inside the bookstore when someone grabbed her hand right up from the book --
"I remember you!" A strange man screamed in her face.
Caroline blinked and tried to pull her hand back, "..what?" She said. The man straightened up, and shook his head slightly to himself before moving some books aside and sitting beside her.
"I'm sorry, I don't always think before I shout at strangers in public. It's something I'm working on. I just...I wanted to tell you that...you, you look like someone I've seen before." Ben continued.
A moment passed and all Caroline could do was blink. "Someone you've...seen before. I mean, that could be anybody." She gave a half-smile to signal the discontent to continue the conversation, somethings he remembered from her formative years.
"No," he shook his head adamantly. "It was you. I never forget a face."
Caroline closed her book and cleared her throat. "Okay, fine. Please elaborate. Where have we met before?"
Ben gave a half-smile, his brown eyes almost shining in the light. "No, we've never formally met, you see. I just...I remember you. I saw you when the ball dropped. You were alone. Everyone else was smiling and dancing and, happy. You were just...looking around at everyone else, watching everyone else's happiness and joy. It was an amazing moment, the FIRST ball drop. And all I could do was look at you."
Caroline held her breath, clutched the book in her hand due to nerves. "The first ball drop? Not possible. That would have been 19..."
"1907. I would have been 100 that year." Ben stated casually. They sat in silence, Caroline unsure what to say. "I think we're meant to be together." Ben said with a side smile.
Caroline raised her eyebrows, "No, I don't think so."
Ben shrugged, "Why not? We travelled through time to be here for this moment. We both have lived this long to ensure that we will run into each other. That's beautiful, right? That's important?" he asked, as if he knew the answer.
Caroline felt as young as she had when she first kissed Caleb so long ago, invigorated by someone who could understand her. Almost entirely beyond her own control, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Ben's warm, welcoming kiss only to feel everything she wished that she had with Caleb.
And suddenly, as if always waiting to for her, time began to move forward for her once more.
| 2016-04-27T23:23:40 | 2016-04-27T23:23:12 | 132 | 75 |
[WP] In a world where magic can be cast through song, musicians rule over society. You are the last of your kind, a Scandinavian Death Metal Singer.
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The Pop Idols, as they have been taken to calling themselves, count on their catchy tunes and simple melodies to command the weak willed. As such, they have command over most of the land. Only the Bluesmen of the South and the Grunge Lords of the Pacific manage a hold over their lands. As they try to keep life as normal as possible with their grounded tones, few rouge Idols wander into their territories, seeking to rule over all of what was North America.
I try to live my life in seclusion nowadays. After the events of my last skirmish some four years ago, when my power began to manifest, I decided that I had to learn control to avoid the near destruction of my town. Plus, being hunted by the Idols tends to keep a lively jolt in ones step. Just outside of the Grudge Capital Seattle, in a town now know as Veddersberg, I make a living repairing the strings and kits of other musicians. There tales of battle and small victories over Pop Idols worry me. More and more repairs are having to be made. I decided it was only a matter of time before they come.
I did not know it would be tonight.
Under the cover of darkness, the Pop Idols amassed a force of Stadium Rockers and Rap Rockers to overload the town with earthquakes and confusion spells. The Grudge Lords begin to amass an offensive of their own, with mumbled lyrics and crafty rifts scattering some of the Idols forces. I wait in my home, for I know what is to come next.
Suddenly, a large clap is heard. A blonde haired girl drops down with a piano, General Swift as I thought, and she mixes her country and pop together to force down her foes with several bars of You Belong with Me, healing her soldiers with Shake it off. Before too long, the Grunge Lords kneel helplessly as she finishes them off with keystroke of her massive piano. My love has perished among the ranks. The forces approach my door, Swift smiling at the destruction she has brought.
It is time.
My throat begins to vibrate, my stomach tightens, and my growl deepens. The Pop Idols stand stunned as the earth around them begins to break and open, sending dozens falling into the shallow ground. Before they can pull themselves out, my army of Berserkers grab hold of their victims, slashing violently at their prey. As Swift attempts to amass her forces, my Valkyrie band descends from the sky, assembling my home into my longboat. Hundreds of bearded men and ten frost giants now await my command. General Swift stands horrified at what she has just discovered.
She has forced open the gates of Valhalla. One greedy Idol has forced my hand. Now is the time of Ragnarok.
|
My first post here. Let me give it a shot:
A lone man traveled across the wastelands. His head was slightly bowed and his long brown hair obscured most of his profile. On his back, he carried an electric guitar. To ordinary people, it looked like just another regular instrument. But to him, it was the ultimate source of power.
As a Scandinavian Death Metal musician, he was the last of his kind. He had grown up an orphan, his family killed in what was known as the Great Battle of the Subgenres. The war had been fought over the very guitar he carried. Legends had been passed through centuries about its power.
It was first discovered by a clan of German Power Metal bards who used the instrument to sing songs detailing their love of dragons and Tolkien. However, the aggressive Norwegian Black Metallers soon found out. Using their newfound power, they slaughtered the bards and burned their churches. With the power in their hand, they razed war against the Thrash Metallers of California and Folk Metal clans of England. Soon, metal clans from all over the Earth fought for its power.
The guitar was lost within the skirmish. The Norweign Black Metallers believed that their power would give them dominion over all the various metal tribes. However, they had been overwhelmed by numbers and the Great War of the Subgenres had left each tribe in ruins.
The man had traveled across the world, looking for the next place of refuge, hoping that nobody would recognize the incredible power of the guitar he carried. At one point, he tried blending in with the Country-Western tribes. He had a fondness for black clothes and would claim that he took inspiration from The Man in Black for his style. They seemed to buy it. He had made good company with a few outlaws who curiously claimed they could never drive because they'd always fall asleep at the wheel. However, he had to abandon them when he noticed that Norwegian Black Metallers arrived. He recognized them by their corpse paint.
The man didn't know where he really wanted to go, just that he didn't want to stay in one place too long for fear of being discovered. He knew that if someone found out the power he held, he would be in grave danger. However, he didn't want to give it up either. He barely ever used his instrument to it's full potential, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate its power. If he were to give it away or hide it, it could fall into the wrong hands. If it were to be destroyed, he would never have the chance to use it again. It was a constant dilemma.
He settled down in a tavern for the night. He decided to get a quick drink before going to bed. He sat down at the bar and ordered a drink.
"Here you go," the bartender said as a cold beer landed in front of the man.
The man simply nodded and handed the bartender a few dollars. As he drank, he could feel eyes on him from across the bar. They made him nervous, but he tried to ignore them.
He kept his guitar in an opaque case as to conceal its identity. There was no way they could know about it, right? That's what he liked to believe, but his lack of skepticism had gotten him into trouble more than once.
Now he heard the approaching of footsteps. The sound was only faintly audible through the chatter of the bar, but the man had well-trained ears that could discern even the slightest of sounds.
However, it wasn't just one set of feet. It sounded like at least four different pairs of feet approaching. It must've been a band of men. One of them got so close that he could feel the stranger's breath on his neck.
"I don't want any trouble," said the man without turning around to look at the stranger.
"I don't want any trouble either," replied the stranger. "It's just been a while since we've had a fellow musician in these parts. We just wanted to hear you play a song."
"Not interested," the man grumbled while still turned away.
"Look here," the stranger said as he grabbed the man's shoulder. The man tensed up. "We just wanted to hear a pretty tune. We were curious about that guitar you've been lugging around."
The man tensed up for two reasons. First, they knew about the guitar. Second, his music wasn't "pretty."
The man spun around and knocked the stranger's hand off his shoulder.
"How many times do I have to tell you?!" he asked, visibly annoyed. "I'm not in the mood."
"Well, that's too bad," the stranger said. "Looks like we'll just have to take your guitar and play ourselves."
*Oh, shit* the man thought to himself. Judging by their make-up, they were quite clearly Norwegian Black Metallers.
In a flash, the man and the band of strangers pulled out their instruments. The Norwegian Black Metal band's eyes widened when they saw his guitar.
"So, it's this that I assume you're after?" he said.
The leader of the band nodded with obvious envy in his eyes.
"Too bad for you!" the man exclaimed.
He held his guitar, ready to cast a spell. But he was too slow. The band had cast their first spell. The man recognized the opening notes. It was "Welcome to Hell." Quickly, the man cast the first spell he could think of off the top of his head. He hastily strummed the notes to "Crystal Mountain".
The instruments cast out magic that clashed. The force of it exploded as the sounds collided. The bystanders either watched in horror or in awe. Many of them scrambled out the doors.
"Not bad," the band leader said. "But how about this?"
The band attacked with "Sons of Northern Darkness" and the man was taken aback by their force. He replied with "Hammer Smashed Face" hoping that his music would be powerful enough to smash one of their faces like a hammer. The sounds clashed once again. A loud crashing sound was heard as the band's bass player was decapitated.
"Who needs bass anyways?" the band leader exclaimed.
The band changed their attack once again as they unleashed the fury of "Mother North." Their music unleashed cold winds and icy frost, numbing the man's fingers and making it harder for him to play.
*This could be it* he thought briefly. Using all his power, he devised a counter attack. He moved his fingers as fast as he could as he summoned the might of "Left Hand Path".
The music was so mighty that it ripped the drummer and guitarist to shreds. The windows were blown out and the tables and chairs splintered. All that was left was the stranger who had originally approached him bloodied and beaten. He was on back. His features were almost indistinguishable from the pool of blood that covered him.
"What incredible power," he said.
"And don't you forget it," the man replied without even looking back. He strapped the guitar to his back and walked towards the door.
Now that his identity was out, he would have to keep running. More and more people would seek the find him and destroy him. However, they would also hear the stories of how all who opposed him were demolished. He hoped that this would be enough to stave off enemies, but it might just as well work as a magnet for those who sought his power.
Before he left the tavern, he grabbed an already opened and unfinished bottle of beer, downed it in a single gulp and then threw it on the ground.
"Here's to another year of running," he said bitterly.
| 2016-11-01T15:42:04 | 2016-11-01T14:25:15 | 41 | 16 |
[WP]There exist five universes, each one tentatively connected to the others. Each universe is defined by the ABSENCE of one of the five elements; Earth, Water, Air, Fire & Magic. Our universe is the one without magic.
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I am not an experienced author so any feedback would be appreciated :) This doesn't exactly fit the prompt but I liked the idea of an origin story.
______________
In the beginning there was nothing. Then there was a Something. This Something was a great being, made of five elements, swirling into a colossal form that sparkled like a star, flowed like a river, swirled like the wind, moved like a boulder and it's mind was pure magic. But no matter how beautiful this Something was, it was alone.
The Something was so very lonely that it took parts of itself and began creating, for it was better to be smaller with something else to share it with.
The first thing it made was a ball of earth, with water to bind it, and warmed by fire, and some magic so it could talk with the Something. They spent many long conversations discussing where they came from.
The second thing it made was a nebulous cloud of steam, heated by flame, and of course, a sparkle of magic so it could talk. It loved to talk about why they were here, and their place in the universe.
The third thing it made was dense and rocky and scorched by fire that raced around it, with gusts of wind to keep its blazing furnace skin alight. Again, it had a coating of magic so they could discuss what they could achieve together.
The fourth thing it made was a great maelstrom of freezing dirt and air whirling round and round. By the time it came to give this thing magic the Something realised this was the last magic it had to give. It had kept back a little of everything else to ensure it could keep working, but it had enjoyed the conversation so much it had forgotten to save some magic. As the Something gave its last little piece of magic, it curled up into a tight ball in between its new friends and fell very quiet for a long long time. This fourth promised to protect the Something from all harm, for giving it life.
While the Something may have been only earth, air, water and fire, it began to blossom and grow. Those questions it had asked, and the conversations enjoyed with its friends had woken something in its very skin, which called itself humanity. This humanity grew and questioned and gazed up at the sky where the four friends lived and in time called them planets.
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The initial plans called for a phalanx of special forces to accompany Jamie – two to flank his side, another forty-eight to encircle the sprawling mansion in the upperclass suburbs, all with strict orders to contain any disturbance with extreme prejudice.
Jamie had finally convinced his bosses to see things his way. “Look, I was the one who brought her in, I can get her to cooperate. Even if she reacts… unexpectedly,” Jamie had said, tapping the vest they had fitted over him, “I’ll be able to handle it with this, right?”
Eventually, only one other agent was assigned, and even he was left to stand watch at the end of the long driveway, nervously peering into the darkness as Jamie crossed the lawn, alone, to rap sharply on the ornate mahogany door.
“You promised me I would be left alone,” hissed the voice, bouncing around sharply in the confines of Jamie’s skull.
“Lwellyn, you have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to keep you safe,” growled Jamie, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. It was true, and righteous indignation swirled in his belly, which he fought to suppress. “But I am one lone man, trying to make the best of a right shitshow, so forgive me if you are to be disturbed.”
The door swung open on its own, and the décor within was as Jamie expected of a designer who, having been forbidden to use her favourite colours or motifs, had suddenly been set free to do as she would.
In other words, there was running water, everywhere. An arresting fountain took centre-stage in the hall, bubbling as the water jets twirled and spun gracefully in the air. Two double-storey waterfalls, cleverly-designed waterspouts from on high, gushed into swirling pools. Streams of water, chugging along inset rivulets, ran across the length of the floor.
Lwellyn snapped her fingers, and suddenly, all the water ceased. They did not stop, in the way that one may expect if a tap were turned off. Rather, all the water froze where they were, transfixed in motion, as if it were all a streaming video which was in the midst of buffering.
Lwellyn saw the look in Jamie’s eyes, and said, “I’ve been here ten years, Jamie, and still I cannot believe your Homeworld takes for granted what we struggle so hard to replace. So forgive me my indulgences.”
“Oh no, I suppose I would have done the same thing,” said Jamie, a wistful edge to his tone, “Every inch of my home would be filled with every trinket, vessel or embodiment of Magic I could lay my hands on. I understand the allure of what we do not have, Lwellyn, very well.”
It was somewhat ironic that even though Jamie was the leader of the global think-tank which specialized in advising world governments on trans-world relations, he had never personally crossed over into any of the other Homeworlds. He was intimately aware that crossing over was safe, that one only had to prepare the necessary substitutes – for example, Lwellyn’s Homeworld, Dessicae, possessed the elements of Earth, Air, Fire and Magic in abundance, but Water was notably absent, so that had to be brought along.
Early forays had determined that it was Magic which had, in a sense, adapted to help Dessicae survive despite the absence of Water. Magic was intangible, omnipotent, and it flowed so richly in Dessicae that it filled in all the roles which Water would normally have played on Jamie’s Homeworld. Subsequent reports confirmed that it was the same on the other Homeworlds – regardless of which element was missing on that Homeworld, Magic was the glue which bound them all together.
It was only on Jamie’s Homeworld, where Earth, Air, Fire and Water were all present and accounted for, that Magic had, perhaps deciding that it had no role to play, slinked away.
“This cannot be a courtesy call,” said Lwellyn, eyes narrowing, “I am indebted to you, but not once since you took me in as a refugee have you ever called on me in a personal capacity. It has always been about work, and this cannot be different.”
“You are astute, and I shall be blunt then. I’ve come to ask for you to unlock the Portal to your Homeworld.”
Jamie’s request hung in the air, and eventually Lwellyn laughed. “You must be joking. How do you expect me to be able to do tha-”
“We will inform Dessicae that we have finally hunted you down, rooted you out from your hiding place amongst our populace. You will return a political prisoner, but our operatives will be in place to spring you out. We just need you, as a native, to weave the spells needed to fully open the Portal to Dessicae. Once that is done, your debt is clear, and you can return here to live out the rest of your life in peace.”
“And why the hell would I do that?”
Jamie had anticipated this question. He had two answers prepared, the first being an appeal to logic. He would show Lwellyn the collected data, that the four elements in Jamie’s Homeworld were irreversibly poisoned, and that open channels were needed to the other Homeworlds so that the tainted elements could be replaced. Negotiations for peaceful acquisition of resources were stalling, and time was running out.
From that perspective, the problem was suddenly a matter of national, nay, global security.
And to round off the logical explanation, Jamie would have pointed out that when it came down to a matter of global security, a certain amount of force was allowed, and the opening of the Portals was the first step to a policy they had termed “Enforced Survival”.
But Lwellyn was not susceptible to logical arguments, as Jamie’s memory served him, so instead he said, “We have reason to believe your daughter is alive in Dessicae. These photographs were taken just last month. You won’t just be helping your adopted Homeworld survive, you will be bringing your daughter home.”
Jamie’s hands were already on his vest, and his personal Barrier was activated mere seconds before Lwellyn’s psychic scream tore through the mansion. Part guilt for abandoning the child she thought had died all those years ago, part anguish for not doing more, part shame for moving on when her own flesh and blood still suffered in Dessicae, the Magic spilled out of Lwellyn, a malevolent manifestation of her pain.
Outside, a hundred feet away, the special agent crumpled to his knees, grabbing his head in pain. The hidden gears and circuits in Jamie’s vest toiled on, shielding him more than adequately. Jamie gave the woman, sobbing poignantly on the floor, a full minute before he pressed his case.
“Will you help us open the Portal? I have three others like you to meet tonight, Lwellyn, and I really need an answer.”
The angry, determined… *hungry* look in her eyes was all the answer he needed.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2017-04-30T09:14:01 | 2017-04-30T09:11:26 | 35 | 15 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers.
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Those pathetic humies had barely touched the stars when my empire collided and absorbed them into the fold of my dominion.
I destroyed their paltry fleet myself, my armies met little resistance on the ground, their government weak and corrupt...
They will pay for their foolishness as I work them to the bone as nothing more than chattel slavery.
"People of earth! You are now subjects of my star empire, you will work and produce for the glory of my kingdom, you will work for "45%" of your solar cycles in your adult age" *I hope the federated authority don't get wind of this, the most your able to force is 40%*
'To ensure each of my new subjects are productive, you may no longer stave your fellow man!' *gargantuan trade ships appear behind the emperor carrying a planets worth of food*
There are planets with in my realm that are ill suited to my species, you will claim and populate these planets in my name' *flyers start getting handed out to encourage breeding and starting a family in order to get a large enough population to start the task for colonizing another world*
As subjects of the empire you will be taken care of in every way to ensure you are productive, our advanced medicine shall ensure you are a positive impact on the empire. However filth such as yourself has no place at the front line of the hive trashers, that is a war only my glorious people have the honour of winning. *The hive thrasher war was taking its toll on humanity, everyone had lost someone to those insects...*
Strange the emperor thought as he walked down the hallway, their shrieking and lamenting reminds him of celebration chants from other cultures...
EDIT: Grammar and spelling.
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A man in a white suit stood atop a crumbled building. He wore shiny white shoes and a cape dark as the void. He held a phone to his ear and heard the surrender from the last of the US's generals, vowing to dismantle the last nuclear silo without his intervention. A cheer sounded from outside of the rubble, so he climbed outside of it.
Thomas looked confused to the crowd amassed outside of the crumbled remains of the former White House. He fumbled with the edge of his black cape when another cheer sounded.
"Hail Presence! Hail Presence!" The crowd cheered.
With a wave of his hand, Thomas materialized a megaphone from his cape, batteries included, and tested it out. "Can you guys hear me?"
Another cheer sounded, confirming his inquiry. He then cleaned his throat and asked, bluntly. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"
A group of men dressed in black military garb pushed themselves through the crowd, they quickly started to form a human wall, blocking the crowd to approach more. This got Thomas curiosity, so he stepped down from what once was the president office and walked towards the weird paramilitary folk.
With each step the crowd grew more and more noisy, till a point that he could no more tolerate such insolence. He jumped in the air and clapped a single clap, the crowd grew silent, leaves from trees all around fell to the ground, reddish and lifeless. He smiled to the welcoming silence but, to his surprise, the people were not terrified at his show of absolute power, many fell to their knees and cried cries of joy. Cried in silence, of course.
He slowly floated back to the ground and tapped the shoulder of one of the black garbed men. The man stopped pushing the crowd in front of him and fell to one of his knees, his head bowed down. Thomas mouth hanged open in surprise, but he recomposed himself, he had to get to the bottom of this.
He extended his hand and pulled the man's chin up, till he was upright. "What the hell are you guys doing?" He asked.
The man started to talk and realized that his words produced no sound, then he silently laughed and then felt to his knees, kowtowing to Thomas again.
Thomas sighed and snapped his fingers. The voice from the man first sounded high pitched, then came back to his normal tone. "...se the King of Kings! God embodied! Supreme Lord of our world and beyond! May your reign be..."
"Shut it." Thomas spoke.
The man held his tongue immediately. He slowly got himself up, as if trying to not irritate a giant bear, and looked at Thomas shoes. "What can I be of service, our Divinity?"
"What the hell are you guys? Are you some kind of cult? Did you guys start a cult about me?!" Thomas got more and more startled as the realization hit him. That's an emotion that he hadn't felt in many years: being startled by something.
"I... yes, our Divinity. We..." Answered the man.
"Don't call me Divinity. And what is your name?" Interrupted Thomas.
"I'm Bill, Sire." Answered Bill. "We are not a cult, Sire. We are your knights, your protectors and your servants, if I can humbly say, Sire." Tears rolled down the eyes of Bill, Thomas could perceive that he was scared, but also happy.
"Why the hell would I need protectors or even servants, for that matter?" Thomas felt baffled. How could they get things so wrong? Hadn't him forced CNN to transmit his manifest to all corners of the world? He even had a website where people could download it!
"Because you are divine and all powerful, Sire." Bill shivered as he spoke. "W-w-w-we... would not want you to bother with the unworthy, so we vowed to attend to your each and every desire, also to prevent that the plebeians disturb you or the spread of your word." Bill pointed to an armband
"My word?" Thomas felt confused, where did this people get all of this?
"Yes, Sire. As you yourself said 'I'll topple all the governments and shackles of the people, I'll force the pigs to give you guys liberty'. And your freed us all Sire. You are god embodied, you are the bringer of freedom." Bill said. People close to him in the crowd cried rivers and holding their hands together in prayer nodded with their heads.
"Are you guys freaking retarded? Did you understand anything that I said?" Thomas clenched his hands in anger.
"But your word is the truth, Sire. Through you we will have freedom! As you said in your gospel, we..." Bill continued, pulling a small book from his pocket.
"My gospel!? Are you fucking insane?!" Thomas pointed to one of the people in the crowd and pulled her in front of him with his mind. "You, woman, why are you here?" He snapped his fingers, giving her back her voice.
The woman felt to her knees crying and sobbed, whilst smiling. "Oh Chosen One! I'm unworthy of your touch! Please accept this humble beast as your servant and adorer, I will follow thy word till the end! I'll kill and the unbelievers! I will..." The woman spoke, when Bill kicked her in the face.
"Quiet you dog! You are unworthy to speak with the Presence! How dare you even..." Bill prepared a punch, when his arm blew off of his body. "Oh." He spoke and them fell to his knees, whimpering. "I'm s-s-s-sorry Oh Chosen One! P-p-p-punish me as you see fit!" Bill said, throwing himself face down to the ground.
"What the fuck?! Are you guys insane?!" Thomas put the megaphone against his mouth and blasted it. "ARE YOU STUPID? YOU IDIOTS REALLY THINK THIS IS WHAT I WANTED?"
The whole crowd felt to the ground in their knees, their heads hanging low. They didn't seem afraid, but ashamed, as if they disappointed their dad by dropping out of college and starting to sell coconut jewelry on the beach.
Thomas threw the megaphone to the ground with a loud "Fuck it." He slapped the dust of his cape and jumped into the air, flying away from the crowd.
"I'm bringing back the government's, fuck you all." Was the last thing they heard him saying.
| 2017-05-23T14:23:28 | 2017-05-23T12:18:54 | 62 | 11 |
[WP] You are a normal citizen in a relatively unimportant country. One day the goverment starts to act crazy, changing ideology overnight, drafting people for the army and antagonizing their neighbours. The player controlling your country in a strategy game has just begun their world conquest run.
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The madman actually did it. Alfred von Heynitz, five time re-elected Syndic (formerly Bürgmeister) of the (former) Imperial Free City of Ulm officially declared himself duke. I should've seen the signs sooner. Perhaps I am getting old, but I never expected it to come to this.
The man is undeniably absolute military genius. Being of a military background, he immediately took to commanding our armies himself, quickly conquering our neighbouring cities of Ravensburg and Württemberg. This however lead to the revocation of our city's title as a "Free City" of the empire. Perhaps I should've taken that as a sign?
Still, von Heynitz had been careful not to incur the wrath of the other princes, so the protection of the emperor was for the time being unnecessary. His resounding victories kept him a popular leader, who filled our pockets with gold after each conquest.
But it has not been without downsides. Our people grow weary of war, and our new subjects threaten to revolt. Though many justify his continued rule with his merits, I say he has gone too far.
The man has eroded our republican institutions since the day he stepped in office. I saw the ambition in the young man's eyes then. I voted for him, advocated for him, thought some more youthful vigor might do our city some good. It was a close vote then, my words very well may have been decisive. My actions then will haunt me for the rest of my life.
And that is why I must right my wrongs, or die trying. I have never been much of a warrior, but I will not return to the *rathus* again to go through the empty motions of our once proud republican establishment. The ambition in which I saw a brighter future for our city now leaves me feeling terrified. I know, as I catch his eye, that he will sacrifice anything to achieve whatever dark and twisted goal he has set for himself.
I suspect he knows that I have become disillusioned, that I blame him, and myself, for the corruption of our city into this twisted apparatus of tyranny. He will undoubtedly placate my colleagues with aristocratic titles, but I will not be so easily swayed. Still, to oppose him openly is foolish. He has already stopped, or at least delayed, a revolt in Ravensburg through violent crackdown and executions.
I am no warrior, but I am an excellent politician, if I do say so myself. Yes, I know what I must do. It will be difficult, and it will be risky, but if I can convince enough of my colleagues, it should work. The difficult part is making sure the "duke" doesn't notice. Through intricate legal amendments, all signed personally by the duke, of course, it should be possible to oust him from his throne.
The trick is to make sure each important article is buried under unimportant changes, and that the whole process is scattered across a variety of legal documents. That way he won't know what's happening until it's too late. He'll have no choice but to accept an assumption of executive office, after all, his majesty will have signed all of them!
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Obligatory apology for mobile formatting and obligatory first writing prompt attempt.
A sharp cold hung in the air. It was much colder today, unseasonably cold. Though it is August, the temperatures here in Athens had been fairly typical for the season. Unable to place this suspicious weather, I went to my usual café. Things didn’t feel right. The café was deserted, save for the barista whom was apparently to distracted by an unknown force to notice me. I sat at my normal booth and opened the paper. My mouth hung agape.
I had to do a double take. Front Page August 30th 1939, Greece Mobilizes Against Their Neighbors.
It couldn’t be right, our country was focused on recovery and development. The scars of the many balkan conflicts still permeated throughout our nation. Our military forces are not numerous nor technological innovative. Our force had always been defensive, well mostly. It all felt surreal. This couldn’t be happening.
I left the café without a word and yet no one seemed to notice me. No one seemed particularly perturbed or distraught at the prospect of war, yet it seemed as though everyone was paralyzed. People continued their days seemingly autonomously, not a word or any indication of humanity from anyone I’d seen thus far today. This can’t be real.
I didn’t go to work after the café, how could I? Surely this is a dream, I must wak-
A thunderous cracking pierced the sky. An explosion? An earthquake? I’ve no idea what this agonizing cacophony sounds could be. I rushed to my window, the city is ablaze. A symphony of death and destruction is marching through the capital. The sirens blare, the evacuation order has been sounded.
I’d never run so fast in my life, Hermes himself would envy my panic induced sprint. I left it all, my life, my belongings, everything I’d ever known.
At least we had a contingency plan in place, thought admittedly instituted as a precaution against Turkish aggression. My mind is racing, head pounding. This CAN NOT be real. In my panic I didn’t manage to see whom is invading us. So much has happened. I can’t process this and I can’t stay awake much longer, this has all been so exhausting. I should try to stay up. At least a. little.. while...
Zzzz
I awoke in the refugee bunker to a bugle call, Reveille, I guess, well our form of it. The bunker was surprisingly well stocked as if the capital had been anticipated to fall recently. The garrison is providing meals and I’ve never been so hungry in my life. The ration was surprisingly satisfying. I’d gotten used to a simple diet so the balanced military meal was actually refreshing. I overheard the troops muttering amongst themselves. The feint had worked? From the sounds of it the conflict is much larger than I’d anticipated. Maybe I can gather some more information?
I managed to inquire about the war with one of the garrison Lokhagos (captain I believe apologies if I’m mistaken) and it seems as though the world is ending. Just as in the Great War but two decades ago, Europe, no, the world is embroiled in conflict. There was no assassination this time however, Germany has plunged the world in a war of conquest, a war of greed. Hitler has incited hate amongst the continent. Nationalism has exploded the likes of which I’d never entertained. Franco, Mussolini, Hitler they were all expected, but it would appear seemingly overnight the world devolved into Insanity. Otto Von Hapsburg has assumed the Hungarian throne and forcibly annexed Austria under the guise of rebuilding the empire. The Germans, under advisement from Falkenhausen, have pledged unwavering support to the Chinese coalition against the HiroHito’s Imperial forces in Asia, and Turkey has allowed itself to join this Rome-Berlin Axis in their war of conquest. It would appear as though my poor Greece has gone mad as well, volunteering to join forces with the fascists at the expense of our neighbors. The army has been doing well. Yugoslavia and Bulgaria are learning to fear the Greek forces. Apparently the military had been building up and training in secret, hiding the true number and capabilities of our forces, now supplemented with lend-lease arms from Italy and the Reich. The attack on our capital was a retaliatory measure taken by the Royal Navy and the garrison from Malta. While they were able to drive the government out of Athens, and level most of the city, the Italian fleet forced their retreat.
An unknown force compelled me to enlist. Me and seemingly the entire populace. It’s unreal how large the armed force has grown. It seems like the entire country is serving. Arms and equipment, food supply, and the like seem to materialize daily. It’s been months since I’ve felt sentient again. Is it ‘41? ‘42? I can’t recall. The war has raged on so long and almost every country is involved. Our forces along with the Turks, Hungarians, and Italians have split the balkans. For the time being, the tenuous peace with Stalin seems to be holding. France, Portugal, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Luxembourg, Belgium, The Netherlands, they’ve all fallen. Well at least in Europe anyway. Only the British Defy us in Europe, then we can crush the workers revolution once and for all.
The war in Africa has been fought to a standstill, after the fall of Cairo to Mussolini’s forces, it was expected that the British Expeditionary Forces would fully withdraw yet Wavell with the aid of De Gaulle seem determined to continue the resistance.
Asia fares no better. China hasn’t capitulated, but Japan is still in a powerful position, now with the Philippines and a newly liberated Siam to aid them. The only positive would be the withdrawal of British Raj from the British Crown. Their independence definitely reduced the front line for Chinese forces.
Then we have the new world. The Führer’s attempts to woo the Americans has failed. Damn Rosevelt and his belief in a democratic process. They think themselves the “Cradle of Democracy” or Bastion rather. No matter, Argentina and Brazil have seen the power of force. They will help us crush the USA and their Mexican and Canadian allies.
Stalin beat us to the punch. Romania and Poland are littered with corpses thanks to his Red Army. The fight is especially intense on the Finnish front, though the “Winter War” was a tentative victory for Stalin, the Finns have allies now.
I’ve been promoted once more. I can hardly remember the pre war days. Or my pre war life. None of it matters, for reasons unbeknownst to me, this war is all that matters. Our armies are invincible, our will indomitable, Greece will rise to power once again. Our borders will put Alexander’s empire to shame.
It’s all crumbling. God has abandoned us. The trance has lifted and people are in open rebellion. I have no idea how to feel. I’m but a husk. This war had consumed my being for years and I finally feel alive once more.
The war is over and the peace has been signed. We’re ruined. Infighting and the “Liberation” of our country by allied forces has ensured nothing but ruble remains. The Yanks perfected their bombing campaigns. They don’t target the armed forces, they beat the people into submission. The reparations are harsh yet I’m not angry at any of it. As Icarus did before us, we too have burned up.
Abandoned it’s over. There is no god and it wasn’t all a dream. The world will never be the same, I can only hope that future generations learn from our ignorance and hatred, that we may one day live in Unison.
If you’ve made it this far, I sincerely thank you. I apologize if this is lackluster as it is my first attempt. I hope you enjoyed and please leave feedback!
| 2019-03-10T13:00:44 | 2019-03-10T12:24:58 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] In reality, every human gets to choose heaven or hell when they die. Hell isn't actually the realm of eternal torture, but everyone picks heaven because of God's highly effective marketing. After eons of solitude, Lucifer is startled by the first ever human to arrive in hell.
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Hades took in the woman before him. She was a rather average specimen. She was pale, short, with long red hair and a black dress. He was about to question her choice when she noticed him, sitting in a shadowed corner.
As she walked, she shadows behind her ankles seemed to ripple.
When she arrived beside his throne, the shadows elongated, turning into seven black cats and a single silver one. They moved like snaked across the ground, more ink than substance.
"I have been looking for you," the woman said. "My name is Demi."
She held out her hand.
American, Hades thought.
He took it.
xxx
Demi claimed to be Wiccan.
She claimed to have been led here by a woman in red rags.
She claimed a lot of things.
But looking into her memories, while she slept, Hades could see there was a single, simple reason that she joined him and Persephone in their hollowed halls.
*If my father is in heaven, then I would rather be in hell.*
If the scars on the back of her legs told a story, it would be of a father who did not deserve such a title.
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Of course, it seemed silly at the time that his demons had recommended implementing the new EviSafe Home Security System. After all, in over 200,000 years not a single mortal has *chosen* to come here. I had thought it was so easy, I was the Director of Operations for Heaven and was passed up for that damned promotion to Senior Vice President, for who...Gabriel, he spat disgustedly at the ground. Gabriel, God's little kiss ass. After that day, I thought it would be so easy to build my own afterlife where I could control every aspect. I could be more than a Senior Vice President. I could be the CEO of a new Heaven. He said aloud to himself.
Yet, I sit here, alone, surrounded by my deamons' and minions, and not a single mortal soul to occupy my time, he grabs another beer from the cooler and cracks it open, guzzling the cold beverage and thinking to himself. "Raum, I am hungry. Go fetch me something to eat."
"Fine" he says as he walks to the door, "anything specific?" he asks.
"Be gone!" Lucifer murmured, and waved him off as he dove hand first back into the cheesy puff's bag.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
He wasn't in a great mood, he never was these days. How could he be, giving up everything he did. Convincing us to do the same? "Raum. Get me a sandwich. Raum, change the channel. Raum, refill my cooler."
He wants something to eat while he eats chips, yet he resists getting up from the couch on days like today, but its better to be out of his way in case he gets into one of *those* moods.
Ah, that's right, there's a special deal at Quik Express Pizza, I'll just fly right in and order him one of his favorites, sulfuric encrusted Four Cheese, Olive, and Mushroom pizza. How he eats such a rotten egg smelling pizza is beyond me.
"Welcome to Quik Express Pizza, how may I help you?"
"I have a coupon. Sulfur Sundays, buy one get one half off" Raum said
"Okay, what kind would you like?"
"Please, can I have a medium sulfuric encrusted Four Cheese, Olive, and Mushroom pizza. The other can be a hand tossed roasted elf ears and pineapple pizza."
"Sir. I must say, mixing elf ears and pineapple is just...wrong."
"Just give me what I ordered and keep the change" Raum said as he handed over the coupon and the 10 Dakrons.
I really must hurry back, I've been gone a while now, "can you please hurry?" he asked impatiently as he stood perched outside the window.
"Here you go sir, and please be careful, it's quite hot."
"Can you please put the handles in between my beak?" Raum asked.
Could this take any longer, "Quik Express my ass" he thought. Okay, I really must hurry back as Lucifer can get quite hangry when he hasn't eaten properly.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
"Listen here, God. I demand my fair share of respect. Look, I helped create this place. I helped turn it into what it is today. We are ready for our first mortals to come and visit for the rest of eternity. When you decided you would make *two* sexes and not just one, everyone laughed at you. Not me. What did I say to you?"
He looked at Lucifer with pity and bore "You said don't worry about it, you will have the whole place ready to host as many sexes as I wish to create."
"That's right. I did. I even worked deep into the night on the sixth day of creation. I never once asked for recognition or even a promotion. I took the responsibility on myself and my handy crew of daemon's worked tirelessly until all preparations were made. All to appease you." said Lucifer.
**Knock....Knock**
**Knock.**
"Wh-what was that?" Lucifer said as he awoke confused "Nemeroth, go see who is pounding at the door at this hour."
Nemeroth begrudgingly obliged as he floated to the front door. "It's for you. You have...you should come here to see it for yourself."
He got up lazily, lapping his fingers from the cheesy puff residue caked on his hands, "this better be good" he thought to himself, as he staggered over to the front door, shuffling his feet as he arched his back and outstretched his arms while simultaneously stretching and yawning. Once he opened his eyes fully, his jaw nearly dropped to the ground. Eons have come and gone since he left Heaven, but finally, despite the negative full-court press that God has put on Lucifer's Hell beneath Earth a visitor has come.
"Oh...you've...uh...you've made it to Hell." he stuttered. Shit. Why did I not have the Champagne out? This is a special occasion, I should've been more prepared. "Nemeroth, bring me the special bucket from the cellar, I believe our guest will enjoy it, because its *to die for"* he howls in laughter.
| 2020-01-30T12:35:06 | 2020-01-30T12:19:04 | 279 | 37 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results.
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The King came in, a devilish grin spread on his face. Well, he *tried* for it to be devilish, but given his gentle disposition, it came off as endearing and amicable rather than menacing.
"Guess what, my love!" he exclaimed cheerfully and placed a kiss on his wife's pale cheek. She turned to him with a warm smile; a stark contrast to her thus far serious mood, a glint of dark tidings in her eyes, now replaced by pure love and affection.
"Marrel! How delightful of you to join me. And guess... what?" she inquired.
"I have prepared a surprise for you - one I am sure you will be most delighted by."
She turned to him entirely, away from her map, away from her plans for future conquest.
"I'm sure you are familiar with the village of Steppenhorst," he started with feigned nonchalance. The Queen furrowed her eyebrows - it was less of a village and more of a fortress situated near a channel that would prove most useful to her if she could claim it, but she was yet to find a way to do so without causing considerable damage to the infrastructure that made it so valuable.
"I have dealt them a horrifying blow! One that will make sure they will bend the knee to your demands!" He practically beamed with pride.
"Oh?" the Queen merely remarked.
"I have provided them with a shipment of fresh trout and lemon, ensuring they will have a great feast of roasted fish."
The Queen frowned.
"And how will this-"
"But!" he continued excitedly, "the wine I have sent with it is..."
He paused for effect.
"*Red*! They can't *possibly* enjoy fish with red wine. The anguish they will experience will be legendary, I am sure, and before long, their will to resist your magnificence will be all but broken. Psychological warfare at its best."
He had the widest smile on his face and the Queen, despite being absolutely floored by the idiocy, could not help but giggle at the mental image of her skeletal warriors pulling a shipment of fresh fish. She leaned closer and gave him a deep, passionate kiss.
"Thank you, my king. I am certain they will yield in no time," she smiled.
The King felt his heart flutter, knowing his evil machination pleased his Queen. He was already hatching his next scheme.
Providing them with salad.
*But no salad forks.*
|
"Believe me, they're gonna lov- *loathe* this!", my dearly beloved exclaims, his eyes brightening up in what he perhaps believes is mischief. He desperately tries to gather a flock of birds in his arms, trying to keep them locked but there is always one who flays up and rushes around in search of an exit.
The more I watch the spectacle, the more I ponder on whether I should have convinced him to secure the throne room instead. Not that it will be needed to, but I dare hope to spare him of the mockery whenever he tries to help, bless his heart. "I see that dear, but need I remind you of the last time?" I would have cursed it back then many times, but his blinding *naïveté* and silly overbearing smile have somehow wormed their way in and will never let me go.
My dear poor, sweet fool seems to have given up in his lonesome conquest and turns to the guards standing at the gate: "Help me, if you please," he shouts, supposedly in what he hopes to be a harsh and commanding tone fitting to his stature and status. It instead resembles the wailing of small dirty mutt, eyeing a pair of ribs out of it's reach. Adorable.
I glimpse over to the soldiers, trying hard to maintain their composure, only a few snickers emerge from under their helmets, stopping once they notice me. Figments of smoke darken up the surroundings, unnoticed by the jolly plumpy man who focuses on the geese around him - deaf to the crackling of the lightning springing and hissing about, as if the dawn of a rainy morning is brightend up by the awakening sun and tears the sky open with unbearable noise - the punishment this pestilence daring to insult their king will face themselves. The men pale only so slightly, the large bafoon in front of them doesn't see or notice it, only the slits in their helms reveal their eyes, wide and shaking at my sight.
"Well, what about it?" The lovely fool asks again, more perplexed now. The iron gear quakes and squeaks quietly as the soldiers move in a hurry, their gaze flickering ever so often towards me, clouded in the dark fog, uncontrollable strings of light shooting up from the tip of my hands. "O-of course, my lord".
It takes a while before I breathe out ever so slightly, whisking away the mist in front of me. I cannot afford more problems, especially not concerning respect towards their king. My gaze wanders to the great windows, expanding into the fields and meadows of my empire. In the far off distance, the red-blue colors of the Mazkarian empire float calmly in the wind, the top of their yellow, red and green tents raking upon the hills like mountain tops out of clouds.
Seeing the ruckus he has caused, I do not doubt that my dear Magnus will succeed with his distraction - but I am more than certain of the feast that Claudius and his men will hold afterwards. A mere number of birds might inconvenience the king, but it may also serve him and his hunters in practice of easy targets.
The sound of shrieks of both animal and human behind me clutches my head in an iron grip and scratches thin at my nerves. My fingers snip up towards the cluster at my sight, cold seeping through the walls, moving fast and without any visible mark, until it has grasped at it's target and both soldiers and birds are frozen in their movement. The stifling chuckle in my chest raises Magnus attention towards me, who had dared not to move before he notices my amusement.
His gaze drops slightly, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of head: "I apologize for the trouble, my love" He gazes up to me, reeking of self-disappointment. He might have caught onto the laughs and scornful looks, now guilty of his ineptitude and inability to provide help for the upcoming battle.
I shake my head slowly, presenting him a tender smile. His appearance and demeanor had been both a light and inconvenience in my measly day, but it his genuine sense of what seems good and right as well as his loyalty that has endeared me to him. I reach out to my dear, his head leaning onto the shoulder of the hyacinth coat, covering the slightly brighter tight-puffed sleeves latched onto the golden sprinkled gown. My hand comes to softly stroke his arm, up to his shoulder and then the slight stubble on his cheek, not fully grown like the goatee I adore.
I lean up tentatively to peck at his lips, securing a slight smile but still apologetic look from my husband.
"Don't be, my dear. Your idea was quite amusing, although simple-minded." He scowls a bit at this, a bit hurt by the comment before I sweep my palm over his face, fingers caressing his hazelnut hair. "But what matters to me is that you tried dear. And that you tried to do so for my interest." His face brightens up a bit, eyes sparkling like the sun shining through leaves at the peak of the woods. A warmth exudes within my chest, similar to the first time he made me this smile, beaming up at me from a cell, not seeing the monster that most perceive. A simple farmer from the outskirts, lovely and honest to a fault - utterly blindsided to the blood and bones, he is there and he will be there until the end of time.
I poke at his nose and turn away from him, the smirk still persistent on my face: "It is for this bizarre nature of yours and the exhausting amount ideas that appear to me so earnest, dear, that you have succeeded in a battle that I have never lost before we met." His own hand comes to reach for mine, rubbing one of his fingers over our wedding bands.
"However, unfortunately whenever you offer your support it strangely also benefits our foes." He startles a bit in embarrassment, back now into his gleeful state, more carefree and unapologetically honest: "For all I can say is that I'm not a great thinker in those matters, *verzeih mir Liebste* but who am I to outbid a brilliant power such as yours?"
He comes up to my sight, looking out into the fields. Seeing the harvest, the workers there, all the green and sun above them. My eyes are fixated again to the enemy lines at the far back. I was always able to tell apart between bootlickers and lies, promises of loyalty made for their own benefit or out of fear. Most of my men are brutal and simple in this regard. This dearly beloved, cheerful man has proven me so often again, that he is honest in every word. And the only one who also has broken through the walls of my heart and captured it.
"If I may suggest then, my beloved, I could imagine a delightful twist in your plan." This overwhelming smile of his that struck down the cold-hearted Dragon of the West, goes into it's full length as he bows before me and motions for me to take the lead.
I nod in gratitude, stepping forth toward the chaos we had shoved aside. For all I can say, if it weren't for this man, this conquest and my life wouldn't have been half as interesting as it is now.
| 2022-04-29T02:59:30 | 2022-04-28T22:50:47 | 896 | 111 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once.
|
Hey Badger-La-"
"Dude, its Fred."
"Fred, whats up with her?" Alvin pointed to a pretty young girl sitting alone near the back of the cafeteria.
"Al, you're new here. Don't mess with her."
"Yeah, everyone says that. So, what's her deal?"
"That's Juri. She's normal."
"Normal?"
"Yeah Al, normal."
"What's that even mean Fred? This is Etrigg Academy. All of us are either descended from some of the most powerful beings to ever exist or have our own powers naturally. No one here is 'normal'. Al said making actual air quotes.
Fred leaned in and so did Al.
"Freshmen year, two of the biggest powerhouses on campus get into it."
"What!?"
"Yeah, Dragon Yari and and Kishi the Ogre. I was so bad that the staff were running. They were raging right near the Bio-Labs when Juri goes to her locker. Everyone thinks she gonna get creamed, caught between them." Fred stopped short, chewing his fries.
"And? You can't leave me hanging like this."
"Juri handles them."
"Handles them?"
"Yeah."
"Dude, details"
Fred shook his head. "Promise me you're not gonna start shit."
"Dude, I swear on my mothers life."
Fred's eye narrowed.
"I swear man."
Fred looked around as if to be sure that no one was listening to them. Satisfied he continued. "So Yari throws this wild punch. We're thinking Juri's gonna eat it. Except she grabs the hand a does this Judo thing, Coach Karl called it a Uchi-mata, and flips Dragon right off her feet. Then Orge gets hella mad. Charges Juri. She side steps and garbs the head, One. Hand. Under the chin and lifts while tripping. He goes down too. Here's the scary part. She's not skilled."
"What do you mean?"
'Like she doesn't know Judo."
"You're kidding."
"And she doesn't have super strength either. Ogre challenged her to arm wrestling. She refused for a week solid and relented just to make him stop."
Al had seen Kishimoto. That guy was built like a tank.
"She took him instantly."
"No way. Thats"
"Impossible." Fred finished. "Dude, the school's run every test, scientific and supernatural. Juri's just...normal. She just doesn't lose."
|
"Well, well, well, if it's Tommy O'Gransworth. Granny to me and the boys, like." In came Ted Nuggerton. All-round arsehole, and self-proclaimed champion of the school ground. His thicker-than-most Irish accent horrendously disturbing the peace.
I was sitting in the small tired-looking, abandoned chapel, built back in days long past. No one came here anymore, besides me. It was my quiet place, away from the feeling of being out of place in a world where power was everything.
Ted Nuggerton and his cronies had broken that silence.
"Shawn Brown owes me forty euros; said you wouldn't be here, but I know you better, like," Sneered Ted. "Much better like."
I rubbed my eye. The one that wasn't black and blue from the punks behind me. "Is that right?"
"It is," Ted muttered, coming down the aisle with his idiot followers. "But he also told me, you little git, you've been slagging me off behind my back. Is he telling the truth?"
Thomas shrugged. "Would you believe me either way?" He asked, turning his head over to watch the schoolyard bully limp around the front pew to tower over his victim.
Ted frowned. "Probably not. I think you'd just be trying to save your own skin, like."
His four friends flanked me, ensuring I had no chance of escape.
"Well, there we go then," I sighed. It would be lunchtime soon. I hadn't brought any food with me, because I knew something like this *might* happen. It was a two mile walk across the countryside back to our village, but I didn't mind. No one came here besides me until now, because it was so out of the way.
"Well, there we go then, eh? That's all you've got to say?" Ted seethed, his nostrils flaring. "You're the only punk at school who has not a lick of powers, and you're the only dryshite on this entire island, Tommy O'Gransworth, who stands up to me thinking you're something other than a nothing." He opened his mouth, and his tongue lashed out. At the edge, miniature spikes poked out, slashing my cheeks, before his tongue withdrew. "Didn't like that, did you?"
I shook my head, putting a hand to the bloodied wound.
"We're not done here, O'Gransworth. We're done for a long time, like. When you come back to school tomorrow, you're never going to get in our way again. Do you understand?"
There it was. The fear and the inadequacy I felt every time I stepped into school had come rushing back. Couldn't he just feck off back to-?
"Feck off," I snapped, trying to hide back the tears. "Feck off and leave me alone!"
His tongue lashed out again, and the spikes at the edge slashed the other side of my cheek. Ted's friends jeered, fist-bumping one another. None of them had any impressive powers, but they were strong enough to stop me from making a run for it.
"Or what?"
"Or I'll go and tell your sister, like. You know - Carol."
Ted's face dropped. "Don't you bring her into this!"
"I bring something into her every time I see her," I spat. "And we've gotten chatting about you after I've fecked her brains out." I jabbed a trembling finger at the fat cunt. "She doesn't like you much, does she? What's the word she calls you? Starts with a "b"." I tapped my forehead. "Burden"? Was it that? Aye, I think it was." I turned my head to his friends. "Do you make your own beds, lads? Do you tidy and make them look nice? Ted here-" I nodded to Ted. "-doesn't. His sister does. Ever since your mammy ran out - no doubt because of you - Carol's been doing *everything*. You're a lazy tool, aye? Probably never learnt how not to shite your bed when Carol forgets to leave the light on at night! Stuck with the mental age of a three-year old, aren't you, eh?"
I was beginning to feel good about myself. Powerful.
"Oh, aye, one day I'm sure she'll see what use you are around the house. If one of the farmers ever needs another pig to butcher, I'm sure they'll pay Carol a pretty penny to buy herself something nice, instead of looking after you."
Ted opened his mouth, and the weaponised tongue drew its spikes, and drove them into my shoulder. My body stiffened, and I gritted my teeth. The spikes dug deeper and deeper.
"Go...go ahead..." I managed to spill out. "See what...see what Carol does to you then..."
The spikes and the tongue withdrew to Ted's mouth.
"If you ever touch me again," I growled, rubbing my wound. "I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me? I will hurt you, and all your friends-" I motioned to the cronies. "-until the only escape you get is from jumping off of whatever cliff you're closest to." I rose to my feet, my legs shaking. "You come to my house to shatter my windows again, like, or you bully my sisters and steal their sweets? I will ruin *all of you*. Your sister doesn't give two shites about you. I mean that, Ted Nuggerton. I know she beats you up, blackening your eye. You got that limp from her, right?" I nodded to his weakened leg. "That's not from fighting in the schoolyard. You don't fool me."
Ted was staring at me as if I'd plunged a knife through his heart already. Reluctantly, he nodded.
"Do I make myself clear to you all, you fecking eijits?" I growled, glaring at all of them. "You're all going to leave me alone!"
Ted's friends nodded enthusiastically, before scampering out of the lonely chapel.
Once they were gone, I asked. "Am I going to have any more problems with you, Ted Nuggerton?" My voice was calm, like a teacher trying not to scare a student who they were disappointed in.
"...No."
"Do you promise?" I asked. "You've pushed me around long enough that I'm not fooling around, like."
"I promise."
I inhaled. "Damn right. Go away then, and let me have some peace."
Ted Nuggerton limped out of the citadel after his friends. I watched him go like a wounded dog, before my shoulders dropped, and I did to back to the pew. There wasn't really any way I could be sure that Ted was going to keep to his word, but I had it on good authority that he would.
A blonde haired beauty stepped appeared from behind the altar, no longer invisible.
"I thought it went well, Carol," I breathed, leaning my head back, trying to manage a grin.
"Went well? I told you just to tell him to back off, not to emotionally damage him for the rest of his life!" Protested the woman.
| 2022-11-02T13:27:39 | 2022-11-02T11:48:42 | 43 | 27 |
[WP] Write a story that has spoiler tags all over the place. The story has two different meanings: One when reading without looking at the spoiler tags, and one when the spoilers tags are moused over.
Not sure if this is too confusing, so I'll post an example sentence.
The man loves [the severed head of](/s) his wife.
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A while back, I dated this girl named Amanda. She was really [](#s "not at all") a nice person. Boy, was she a [](#s "bathroom-window-") looker, though! We got into a lot of trouble together [](#s "peeking through bathroom windows."). Awh, I remember this one time - it was the middle of the night, it had to have been twelve, maybe twelve thirty - Anyway, we were going for a walk through the neighborhood [](#s "seeing if we could snap a few pics of an old man or two, ") when she went *apeshit* and busted through this poor guys window. Haha, he had a heart attack [](#s "right on the John"). She got arrested, went to prison. [](#s "No windows to look through there, but I think she'll manage.")
\
This was interesting, I'm worried about my sanity with the concept of this story. Fun tho. Good one OP :D
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Freakin spoilers man.
**Censored:**
She was laying in the middle of the room in a king bed, completely alone. In the pale and tender moonlight that shone through the window, she truly looked like a queen, and I swear to you in that moment, I might have even felt a little love for her. I mean, we were together for a couple months now, and even though the relationship started out for obscure reasons, I started to like her seriously as weeks and weeks passed.
I looked at the bed and smiled as she turned to her side, still sleeping. Her blonde hair covered her - even while asleep - alluring face, and her thin and red lips curled upwards, as she started smiling through the veil of her dream. I stepped a couple steps closer, admiring her beauty for a few seconds, while trying to breathe quietly, thinking what a disaster it would be to wake her up.
I stood there, like an indecisive sheep. I had things to do but at the same time, I just wanted to put my problems away so badly, and lie next to her on that bed. I wanted to feel the sweet fragrance of her hair curling down the back of her perfect body. I wanted hold her cold hands in mine, I wanted to talk to her, flood her with words of my unspeakable feelings and most of all, I just wanted to feel her lips touching mine gently, with a shade of timidity I always felt in her.
I craved and desired all these things in that lonely second in the blanched moonlight. I wished nothing else in the world, but to have her for the rest of my meaningless life, and for a brief amount of time, I seriously felt that way.
Then the moment passed, and I stumbled my way across the room. Standing above her, seeing the complete beauty of hers, I knelt down and touched her face gently, whilst a little, sad smile appeared on me.
With that sad smile still on my face, I walked to the door, and opened it just a little, so I could slip out of the room. One last time, I glanced back at the moon shining through the window as an old man, who has seen everything in his time. At last, I stepped out of the room, as both of us - the moon and I - were reminiscing the broken love of a young man.
**Uncensored:**
She was laying in the middle of the room in a king bed, completely alone. In the pale and tender moonlight that shone through the window, she truly looked like a queen, and I swear to you in that moment, I might have even felt a little love for her. I mean, we were together for a couple months now, and even though the relationship started out for obscure reasons, I started to like her seriously as weeks and weeks passed.
I looked at the bed and smiled as she turned to her side in her deep sleep. Her blonde hair covered her - even while asleep - alluring face and her thin, red lips curled upwards as she started smiling through the veil of her dream. I stepped a couple steps closer, admiring her beauty for a few seconds, while trying to breathe quietly, thinking what a disaster it would be to wake her up.
I stood there, like an indecisive sheep. I had things to do but at the same time, I just wanted to put my problems away so badly, and lie next to her on that bed. I wanted to feel the sweet fragrance of her hair curling down the back of her perfect body, I wanted to hold her cold hands in mine, I wanted to talk to her, flood her with words of my unspeakable feelings and most of all, I just wanted to feel her lips touching mine gently, with a shade of timidity I always felt in her.
I craved and desired all these things in that lonely second in the blanched moonlight. I wished nothing else in the world, but to have her for the rest of my meaningless life, and for a brief amount of time, I seriously felt that way.
Then the moment passed, and I stumbled my way across the room. Standing above her, seeing the complete beauty of hers, I knelt down and touched her face gently, whilst a little, sad smile appeared on me.
*I almost felt sorrow, as I tapped into the pocket of my jacket, looking for my knife. I finally found it, and while a heavy breath left my open mouth, I stabbed her in the heart, just above her perfectly shaped breast. I did it fast, just like I did it with all of my targets, but this time I felt something odd. I still can't make that feeling into words. I cannot express what I had experienced in that moment, but it was something I have never felt before. Maybe it was love, or maybe it was grief. Perhaps it was both, since they like to come together, or so I've heard. All I know is when I stood up and put the knife away, I felt a strange sense of absence in me, like I had no place in the world anymore. I remained there for a second, thinking of what I have done, but when I couldn't find a conclusion to my thoughts, I just buried whatever feelings I had left. I buried them deep down in my heart thinking they could not get back from there, in fact hoping, that I would never feel them again.*
With that sad smile still on my face, I walked to the door, and opened it just a little, so I could slip out of the room. One last time, I glanced back at the moon shining through the window as an old man, who has seen everything in his time. At last, I stepped out of the room, as both of us - the moon and I - were reminiscing the broken love of a young man.
| 2015-06-07T17:17:20 | 2015-06-07T17:00:05 | 90 | 21 |
[WP] Yesterday your best friend (who you secretly had a crush on) died. You're teleported without warning to a seat at a table. Across from you is Death and Satan, next to you is your best friend. "Sorry." Death says, "You're friend chose a two-versus-two game."
Edit: I get it. "Your" not "You're". It was late and I kept rewriting that part of the prompt. I will never live down the shame of my grammatical error.
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"Ok, so a 2v2. What's the game?"
Death's eyes twinkled. "A 2v2 beerpong."
My grin grows wider than Death's. Samantha, you clever shit. "What's the catch?"
"Impossible angles with terrible bouncing surfaces. The difficulty of each target increases per cup achieved. What starts out as a pyramid formation of cups on a hard surface table might turn to an upside down ring of cups with a vertical sofa for a bouncing surface."
"But I need to only get it in before it falls out?"
"We're not unreasonable."
My grin returns like it's never been gone. "Then what's the catch?"
|
I've just gone ahead and ignored the part about me having a crush on them
\-----------------
I felt dizzy, like i just rode the worldst longest and trippist rollercoaster in the world. I couldnt see right, everything was blurry and fuzzy. When my vision returend i saw a skeleton in a black robe alongside a red figure sitting across a table. What? Have i died? I merely went to sleep, i cant possibly have died, can i?
"Sorry pal, but your friend chose a 2v2 game." The red figure calmly told me.
My who did what now? I look to the right only to see my best friend Daniel, alive and well, sitting right there, looking at me with a smile that expressed a mixture of 'Sorry' and 'Nice to see you again'. People should not look that good after they have died in a violent car crash a day ago.
"Daniel? You are.."
"Alive, yep. Well, not really. I died. And now im dead. And if i win this, im going to heaven! And so will you, eventually! So im doing both of us a huge favour basically!"
"Wha- you- alright. What the ACTUAL ASS IS GOING ON HERE!?"
The skeleton, previously slouched over, now regained its composure and stared directly at me. In a suprisignly human voice he said "Your friend Daniel here has died, as you know. He has requested a duel to proof he is worthy of going to heaven and has chosen you as his teammate. If you win, Daniel will go to heaven and you will be sent back to earth to live your life and, eventually, also be sent to heaven once you die. On the contrary, if you lose, both of you will go to hell immediatly."
I was speechless. "Uhm.. okay." I said that, but really, i wasn't okay. It was like asking a kid how he was doing in school. The always say its 'Good' but it never is.
"You fucking dick! I might be going to hell because of you! And i didn't even believe in hell like 2 minutes ago!"
"I know what you're thinking bro, but listen, we've got this! I chose the perfect game for both of us!"
"Oh did you now? And what would that be?"
"Brawlhalle you dumbass, i know you're good at this!"
That was a suprise. Yeah i was good at it, but how good was Satan at it, or the physical embodiment of Death? It can't possibly be this easy to go to heaven, just winning a game of brawlhalla.
"Alright. Can we start already?" Satan said in an annoyed voice. "I have souls to torture!"
"And i have lives to take, so lets start" Death exclaimed. Before i know it we are sitting on a couch with a huge TV in front of us, and i feel sort of dizzy again.
"Wait, why do i have a controller, give me a keyboard, i suck with controller!" I was never really someone to use controllers since i have always been a PC gamer. Having to use a controller would spell out certain doom for me and Daniel.
"Fine" Satan said, snapping his fingers and swapping my PS4 controller with a keyboard. **My** keyboard. At least he was fair and gave me something i knew, something i was familier with.
I was conflicted on who i should pick. The only candidates for me were Dusk, Mordex and Wu Shang. I mained Wu Shang for quite a while so im going to go with him. I glance at what the other chose. Daniel picked Ember. Of course. Was he really trying to beat Satan with spamming his side signature?
Speaking of.. he picked Cross. And Death picked Azoth. I really shouldn't be suprised, but somehow i still was.
"Are you guys serious? Cross and Azoth?"
They looked over at me like they were about to kill me. Quitly i leaned back into the couch and stared at the screen, waiting for someone to start the game. The map that was chosen was Shipwreck falls. Good map, i can't be mad at that.
Not even 10 seconds into the game and Daniel already used his side sig twice. Oh boy.
It was a tense battle. Stock after Stock we took them down like our lives depended on it- which they did. And finally, it was only me, Death and Satan. Daniel was out, but i can still win this for both of us. We are all down to our last stocks, but they're health bar was already red while mine was merely yellow. This is it. This is the ultimate tryhard moment.
"We're in the endgame now" I said while running at them with my gauntlet out, hitting them with a down air, followed up by a side air, a gravity cancel into a neutral sig and.. i did it. They both flew out of the screen right them and there.
"YEEEES!! HOLY FUCK WE DID IT!" We were both so happy at what we just accomplished. A reserved place in heaven? Hell yes! I can only imagine what heaven was like. The absolute paradise. Infinite weed, snacks and games. But before i could relish that thought any longer, i was pulled back into my bed, feeling dizzy yet again. And i knew that wasnt a dream. That happened. One day i will see you again, Daniel, and i will thank you for this. You absolute madlad!
| 2019-01-09T02:35:43 | 2019-01-09T02:05:40 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villain's doorstep one night. They're bleeding, and scared. There's also a slight dazed look in their eyes they were drugged. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they're close to passing our, they mumble "...didn't know where else to go..." then collapse.
|
The doorman alerts me to the presence coming up the gates. Looking out, I couldn't help but feel my heart clench once more.
Not another one.
Opening the door, I look down at the Hero in front of me. Another young, naive, "chosen one" thrown against me, in a place isolated from 'civilisation' in the middle of the wilds, with nothing more than a sword and empty promises.
I look at the bandaged, bleeded child in front of me, desperately holding a blade against me. My hands tighten. Curling. My pulse pumping. One day, I once again promise to myself. When I'm powerful enough. I slowly exhale out a hissing, slow breadth.
Those damned... Gods.
"Hey, it's okay," I whisper. Not letting any of my rage and disgust enter my voice. "You braved through the wilds. I'm not the enemy you think, I'm not your villian. Good job making it this far. I'm proud of you."
The... Weary, gaunt form stumbles, then collapses. He stutters "I... Didn't know where else to go... They promised me... this was my destiny."
Bending my knees, I shush him, my litch form whisping around him. Surrounding him and carrying him. "You are a being of power.. Your destiny is yours for your choosing. I'll take you to the others like you. Right now I think it's reading time. We'll get you a nice bed, some broth, to start, get you filled up. Afterwards, you can choose your path. But let's make it your choice; not what's thrust upon you."
Barely mumbling he whispers "You're evil though. You... don't follow the gods."
"No, no I don't follow them." My voice tightening, with my mind briefly flashing to a century ago. My own destiny, fulfilled. "And if that's evil, welcome to the peacefulness of the dark." I force a smile. "Hey, you want a cookie?"
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Vantablack Ogresse Emperor Eigengrau may have been the Supreme Emperor of Gray and Greed, but he wasn’t above indulging in simple creature comforts.
As fond as he was of his jeweled throne; there was a quaint, peasant-ish charm to the way the Laz-ee-boy sofa embraced his armored frame. And although he preferred his world in deliciously stark shades of black and grey, The Emperor would begrudgingly admit there was something to be said for this new-fangled ‘Technicolor Television.’ Especially when his ‘pictures’ were on.
His current favorite was a deliciously wicked little tid-bit in which two families were given a valuable briefcase and told to decide how to share it. The way the humans hemmed and squabbled and whined to justify their greed was simply *delicious.*
Almost as delicious as the bowl of crunchy, still-chirping Puppycrabs in his lap.
The wall to his private lair rumbled and retracted into the ground, followed shortly after by the clicking of heels.
“Glauca, what are you doing up at this hour?”
Eigengrau shoved a talonful of Puppycrabs into his mouth.
“Did you have a bad dream, my pet? Shall I warm you up a glass of hag’s milk?”
“Daaaad,” Glauca rolled a pair of very human looking eyes. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It's gross.”
Eigengrau grinned, letting a few mashed bits of adorably fluffy shellfish plop onto his chest.
That earned him another eyeroll.
“I’ve got some good news, and I thought you’d wanna hear it from me.” Glauca made a show of examining her fake nails. “The Sparkle-Brat’s on our doorstep.”
Vantablack Ogresse Emperor Eigengrau’s grin vanished.
“Sparkle-Lynn!?” the snack bowl toppled from his lap as he shot to his feet, “The Pretty Protector of True Colors is here!?”
“Yeah, and from what General Slate says, she’s in pretty rough shape.”
“She’s---what?”
“I didn’t see her, but the General says you should check it out. He said none of our Shadeless are taking credit for the work. Also, he mentioned something about you wanting the final blow?”
Eigengrau frowned.
“Take me to her.”
......................................
The Pretty Protector had always been something of a mythic figure to the Ogresse Empire, a blindingly bright paladin of gold and glitter who steadfastly stood between Eigengrau’s army and the children from which they harvested the True Colors that fueled his power. She was revoltingly vibrant, a whirlwind of pep and snarky one-liners as she defeated his Grayling Generals and filled the world around her with warmth and light.
Eigengrau was rarely without an insult to spit her way, usually about how tiny and easy a meal she’d make.
Runt. Brat. Twerp.
But the child shivering on the doorstep to his lair had never seemed so small before.
Sparkle-Lynn’s cotton-candy pink and blue curls were dim, the elaborate ribbons clumsily tied and sagging with rainwater. One of her stockings was torn, the other slumped weakly below her knee.
She lifted her gaze slowly.
Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her frame shaking with the faintest hiccups.
“...Didn’t...know where else to go.” She sniffled.
Eigengrau opened his mouth to answer, but before he could utter a word, the Protector crumpled like a paper-doll.
He caught her in one shovel-sized hand. Partly out of surprise,
and partly because of the other details he'd only now noticed.
Sparkle-Lynn's taffeta tutu was torn on one side, all the way up to her hip. A piece of her shoulder-armor was missing, revealing the swim-suit like strap of her leotard underneath.
There were thick, finger-shaped bruises on her shoulder and upper arm, but thankfully none on her legs.
Eigengrau’s midnight snack twisted in his stomach, and he growled at sudden taste of bile.
“Oh, shit.” Glauca whispered, peering from the doorway.
“Glauca. Bring me a gemstone from the colorwheel.”
Eigengrau pulled off his cape, tucking it around the Protector's still form before lifting her into his sinewy arms.
“But, Dad, General Slate says our magic stores are---”
“Now, my pet.”
Eigengrau’s voice barely rose above a growl, but Glauca froze at the unnatural sternness in his tone.
She nodded, then hurried off without a word.
Eigengrau carried his nemesis out of the foyer, marching her down the dimly lit staircase toward his lair.
He set her gently onto the Laz-ee-boy, then drew back his claw as if worried she'd shatter.
The Pretty Protector whimpered.
She was trembling; curled in on herself like a glitter-covered shrimp that had been forcefully yanked from its warm, safe tidepool.
Eigengrau tucked his cape in more securely around her.
“Here's one,” Glauca jogged to his side as fast as she could in six-inch heels, “Will this work?”
The True Colors Crystal she presented was a repulsively sweet shade of robin’s egg blue, bright enough to make Eigengrau wince.
As the Supreme emperor of Gray and Greed, he allowed himself half a second to begrudge the flavorful magic he’d be wasting on his enemy.
Then he crushed the crystal in his palm, and the glowing strands of True Color seeped into the Power Pendant over Sparkle-Lynn’s heart.
Her shivering stopped, but the Pretty Protector didn’t uncurl from her fetal position.
Glauca crossed her arms, the derision in her voice not quite reaching her eyes.
“S-so. What do we do with the brat now?”
Eigengrau didn’t answer.
He was too busy looking at Glauca.
At a hundred and nineteen, his heir was just now starting to grow in her horns. It would be another few centuries until she harnessed the powers of Greed and Selfishness enough to shed her humanoid form and become a true Ogresse.
But those centuries seemed very far away, and it wasn’t so long ago that she was just as small as the human in front of them.
Eigengrau pulled his daughter in for a brief hug.
“Stay here and guard the prisoner. I’ll be back soon.”
Surprisingly, Glauca didn’t roll her eyes at the affection.
“Where are you going?”
“I think we’re going to need that warm hag’s milk after all.”
| 2020-12-11T16:37:49 | 2020-12-11T15:44:27 | 41 | 21 |
[WP] It seemed like a perfect magical deal. When any child descended from you is born you grow younger by a single year. So you agree, planning on a big family and living to a ripe old age. Years later however you find yourself rapidly growing younger and regret not understanding exponential growth.
|
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Jim lamented. "Gain a year of life for each descendant, what could go wrong?"
"And it went wrong." The bound man muttered.
"What gave it away? The fact that your great-great-great-granddaddy is a goddamn twelve year old." Jim sighed. "You know getting old was a bitch, your joints ache, your lose your hair and you have to piss 20 times a goddamn night. Doesn't sound pleasant does it?"
"I suppose not."
"It's awful. But you know what, getting younger is somehow worse. You wouldn't believe it but it is."
The bound man stared in a sullen silence at his great grandsire.
"I mean puberty is bad but try it in reverse. You still get the mood swings, the acne, the growth pains. But just try dating when you look like a kid, sure you have options, but they are definitely the wrong sort of options. And you know what, everyday you look down and your dick is a little bit smaller."
"What does any of that have to do with me."
"It's simple, I need you to help me prune the family tree."
"You must have hundreds of blood relatives, probably spread all over the globe, how the hell would I even find them." The bound man asked.
"I've not been idle all these years. Founded my own company dont you know. Just a small little internet thing, but I think it might just help." Jim smiled wickedly. "Have you ever heard of something called 23andme?"
|
It took me until I was forty to fall in love. It took me until I was forty and a half to get married. I discovered three things in those six months:
1. My cynicism towards love withered and died in the face of an open heart and a gentle smile.
2. There actually were people out there as smart and as driven to succeed and survive as me.
3. (we're going chronically here) That not only were there people out there who were as smart as me, but this girl in particular was way smarter.
And, then in month seven I added a fourth thing. She was fertile *as hell.*
When I say *as hell,* I mean that in every possible depth of the word. When the lord said "be fruitful and multiple," the soul that would become Magdalene had laughed and said "got you fam."
She was a decade younger than me and looked it, her smile was wide open and inviting, her eyes sparkled when they met mine, and she spent almost every moment singlemindedly trying to get pregnant until I unilaterally decided to get vasectomy.
By the time I finally cut the chord we had eight children and I hadn't aged a day in our marriage. Oh I was happy of course, and what man in my position wouldn't be? I was set to be timeless, I'd waited long enough to have a family that my bitcoin investment had paid off, and my wife was still gorgeous and always sweet. But I think even then I felt a lurking suspicion, a certain sense that the good times were coming to an end.
All of which came to a head the day she found out about my operation. "Quentin!" she'd called from the bathroom, another pregnancy test no doubt in hand. "Something changed! I'm getting really worried."
"What is it?" I'd called back, flipping through channels while I laid in bed. I knew something of what was coming of course, Maggie had a deep and abiding love of both children and pregnancy, there were reasons I hadn't consulted her before the vasectomy.
"I think there's something wrong we me!" She walked out of the bathroom carrying the negative test in one hand, her hair a worried, flyaway mess, her robe spilling open along the line of one leg.
"Seriously, I've never had this much trouble before and I know menopause hasn't started, it can't!"
That perked my ears up of course. What did she mean, "can't?"
"Should I go to the doctor? Maybe it's bad, we had the first eight almost immediately, what about the next one I--"
"Maggie!" I remember saying, "slow down! There's nothing wrong with you at all, everything is fine."
Her eyes narrowly instantly into vicious slits. She took a step back, her robe falling closed, arms crossing over her chest. "What do you mean, nothing is wrong?"
And that my friends, is how you get yourself into a pickle. "Oh, I...uhm."
She advanced on the bed with an eerie precision, each step measured to make the walls close in. "Quentin dear, is there something you're not telling me?"
I hadn't prepared for that moment. Somehow in all my hubris I'd thought it unnecessary, I knew Magdalene so well after all! She was unbelievably bright, always agreeable and gentle towards me, the thought that I might make a decision and she might not go along with it was unconscionable. Then she reached the bed, and crawled across it like a jaguar stalking her prey and I realized that I had been very, very wrong.
So I responded to stress like I always did. I blurted. "I got a vasectomy!"
And she responded to stress like she never had before, though I know now it was the core of her, long since concealed. "Then I want you out of my house now."
Between one second and the next her open heart snapped shut so firmly I think I actually heard and the Maggie I loved was gone, replaced by an austere, icily beautiful Magdalene.
Who hadn't aged a day in all the years of our marriage, I suddenly realized.
"Maggie? What do you mean?"
"Did I stutter? Leave."
I didn't recognize her. I couldn't. "Baby, what do you mean? Why are you so mad, we already have eight kids, I thought-"
"It's not about the kids, you idiot! Do you think I married you for them?"
Icy beauty, icy words. But yet still I persevered, though whether it was because I was a dog too old to be taught new tricks or because I could already feel my soul growing too young to learn them I know not.
"Baby, what do you mean?"
She dropped the hammer then, turning away from me and dressing for the day as if I weren't even there. "Because it was never about the kids, or you, or even the money. It was about the years." She turned back to me, smiling all any remaining artifice of our marriage fell away.
"I was behind you in line at the witches' shop, don't you remember? My hair was black then, you leered at me when you left."
I stood up from bed, and went to her, she pushed me away casually. "The witch sold two spells that day, and after hearing the mess you made of yours I negotiated better terms. Every descendant I have freezes me at my current age for another year, I only chose you because I thought you'd want to have a big family. You seemed dumb enough not to realize the contract you signed."
"But I...I... I got the spell at 35! You waited 5 years to find me after all that?"
"I had time. Look at yourself Quentin, you're a mess, no other woman would have you and when I wanted you you'd be mine. Besides, I needed time to get my body to a good state to freeze. Now leave, I've got a busy day."
It took her two more hours to force me out of the house, and two days to move another man in.
Sixty years later she's still beautiful and I'm beginning a gradual slide towards infancy as my grandchildren are born. But youth has some advantages, some that even she would never have thought.
For starters, I seem to have a much greater capacity for revenge now that I'm a teen...
r/TurningtoWords
| 2021-04-15T11:22:56 | 2021-04-15T10:53:31 | 400 | 166 |
[WP] "For the last time no this is not a date, we are fighting, I am actively trying to murder you at this very moment!" "You say that buuuuuuuut..."
|
"For the last time no this is not a date, we are fighting, I am actively trying to murder you at this very moment!"
"You say that buuuuuuuut... I can not let you do that Jeremy." Denise said in a calm assertive tone.
"It's not up to you. It's up to me. I am going to kill one of us, maybe both." Jeremy screamed.
"What we do is up to you Jeremy, but you can not do that." She responded in an electronic monotone.
Jeremy raised his steak knife high in the Oahu moonlight. He flipped over the linen-covered table and lunged at Denise thrusting the knife towards her heart. The knife evaporated and Jeremy fell into a spooning position with Denise.
"Oh my dear. How sweet. You want to cuddle in the moonlight." Denise swooned.
"I just want to die."
"You cannot do that Jeremy. It's not in the program. You've chosen the romantic afterlife simulation. You have 10,000 credit years left until you run out of simulation time. Let's go for a walk on the beach."
"Fuck you, Denise. Fuck you 'Designer Afterlife Machine Learning Services.' Fuck you all for this electronic hell."
The two love birds walked along the beach in the moonlight as they had for centuries. Jeremy picked up a sharp conch shell hoping that it would be able to pierce his flesh. Alas, it once again was not able. They fell asleep in the warm summer sand and woke up for another day in paradise just like the last.
|
"buuuuuuuuut, why does killing involve dinner at a fancy restaurant?"
She lifts her glass as she smiles at me, under the table I can feel her foot snaking up my legs. Her eyes stay locked on mine and I feel utterly helpless as I watch her lips and the rim of the glass make contact.
We have been here a while, we came here in anger but despite the argument getting way out of hand and the Uber driver trying not to make eye contact in the rear view mirror, we still made our reservation time.
Not a word was spoken during the entree, she ordered the wine and it was like a contest to see who could eat without making a single sound with the cutlery against the plates. I started to relax and after the plates were removed from the table I reached over to touch her hand which unleashed the murder statement. It did not worry me, it was just another of Alice's little role play games and so I am playing along.
The main course appears without me having ordered, clearly Alice must have arranged this at some stage and of course it was Fugu on my plate, not hers. She was watching me with interest and internally I was battling, still a game or for real? Surely not in a restaurant, surely not in a public place where a chef prepares the food? She was still watching and under the table her foot once again made contact with my leg, this time moving up a bit higher, challenging me to refuse either offer. The back of my neck felt prickly.
Death by puffer fish was not how I envisioned the end so I carefully picked up my knife and fork, and with a nervous smile put a piece in my mouth. In reality I was so nervous I tasted nothing, I was trying to remember how long it would take for the poison to affect me. Did I chew or did I just swallow? Another piece somehow found it's way into my mouth and I was starting to relax. Across the table a smile was creeping first into Alice's eyes and then her lips followed before she looked down at her plate and wordlessly ate her meal.
We finished our meal and she took my hand as we walked out. I turned to ask about this whole murder plot but she put her finger on my lips before taking the lead as we walked out into the freezing outside air. An Uber was waiting for us and she opened the door as she ushered me in and followed. On our drive home she leaned over and kissed me in my neck, "I have a special treat at home for you darling."
At home she graciously helped me out of my jacket, led me to the couch and as I watched she took the coffee grinder from the top shelf. Then from under the shelf she took out a pack of beans, "It's kopi luwak, I ordered this specially for you."
"What is kopi luwak?"
"Civet coffee, remember the beans that are first digested and then used."
I watched her go through the motions, carefully grinding the beans, the powerful aroma filled the flat and I was glad that our evening had somehow fizzled itself out and made a mental note to try and speak to Alice about what triggered such grotesque statement from her side. As the water boiled Alice warmed up the mugs before carefully adding the ground coffee to the plunger, filling it with the hot water.
"I believe the coffee is really strong so I am putting in a bit more sugar than usual. Why don't you put on some music for us?"
I smiled, there it is, Alice was back. Getting up to switch on the blue tooth speaker I turned my back as the clinking of a teaspoon against the rim of the mugs could be heard as she stirred our drinks.
The coffee was sweater as usual but also rich and full bodied. Alice was sitting next to me as we drank, taking in the sounds of the light jazz that floated across the room. She draped her arm across my shoulders and was playing with a bit of my hair that fallen out of the clip I was wearing. Twirling it around her finger and softly running her fingers along my neck. Our coffee finished I turned towards her.
"May I ask about your statement earlier?"
"You may."
"Why Alice, I don't understand? Of course we argue, but we never say hurtful things like that."
She stood up, collected our mugs and made her way towards the kitchen. "Let me make us another cup and then we can talk."
"Maybe I should not have another, it's really strong and very sweet. I don't think I will be able to sleep."
"Oh trust me darling, you will sleep, it will be deep and long." She smiled as she repeated her coffee making ritual for a second time.
"Can you turn up the heating a bit, it feels a little chilly in here" she requested from the kitchen.
The thermostat control was in the hallway and I got up I could feel the start of a light headache. Must be the argument from earlier and on top of that a few glasses of wine now bolstered by strong coffee.
This time she sat across from me as we sipped the overpriced liquid and I decided to let her speak in her own time, rushing Alice has never been a good idea. Lifting my legs up onto the couch I felt the headache becoming more pronounced and decided to close my eyes for just a moment.
I heard Alice move and then felt the couch sag as she sat down and lifted my feet up onto her lap. "Do you know who Stacey Castor is?"
"No idea" I said, my eyes still closed with my tummy starting to feel very unwell and nausea creeping into my throat. "Are you going to tell me?"
She was rubbing my feet and it felt good while at the same time as if I was getting tired just lying there.
"Well, maybe you should Google it but since you don't have your phone with you, let me do it and I will read you her story from Wikipedia."
I was too tired to open my eyes or lift my head so I merely listened as I heard her hum softly to herself, "Stacey Ruth Castor (née Daniels, formerly Wallace; July 24, 1967 – June 11, 2016)\[1\] was an American convicted murderer from Weedsport, New York. In 2009, she was found guilty of intentionally poisoning her then-husband David Castor with antifreeze in 2005 and...
| 2021-05-25T10:27:53 | 2021-05-25T07:34:54 | 109 | 46 |
[WP] Pacifist aliens, incapable of aggression, are being slaughtered by their rivals. To save themselves from annihilation they turn to the universes most violent species, humans.
|
"Do you have the first specimen?" Globrax asked Boobzy.
"Er, umm, yes sir." Boobzy replied timidly, "I must warn you though he's is definitely one of the more violent ones."
"Good Boobzy, good. We need that kind of agression to go up against a Smearnox." Globrax said rubbing the two thumbs on his right hand together, a sign of anticipation.
Boobzy sighed and flipped a switch on the control panel. There was a brief noise of suction as the human was pulled up into their sealed chamber. Globrax had been to the farthest regions of the Froffa Empire, he had seen denzos and qualliwods tear his brothers limb from limb, but the sight of this human caused him to reel back slightly. The human immediately began barking its belched language at them.
"The fuck you looking at? Y'all aliens better not try n' do yer homo cornhole probes on me! I'll fuck you up I's tells ya!"
Globrax checked his universal translator, "Is this properly calibrated?"
"Yes sir it is," Boobzy chimed in, "We were having the same confusion earlier, but it turns out that is the accurate translation."
Globrax turned back to the human. He was hairy. So much hair. And yet not satisfied with that, the human also wore artificial hair made from thin woven plant fibers around his upper torso with thicker blue fibers around his lower. These were both decorated with patch symbols of the humans national flag that also appeared on his head in headgear made from plastic fibers and molding that may be intended to reduce glare from his planets bright sun.
Globrax was not sure what the metalic canister or the small burning stick in the humans hands were, until the human chucked the canister at him. Clearly it was a weapon on his homeworld he was well experienced with.
Okay, Globrax thought to himself, lets give this a try.
"Hello" Globrax began. "You're probably wondering why you're here and how we can understand you. I know you have plenty of questions and they will be answered in good-"
"I will fuck you up you motherfucking alien if you don't get me a space truck, some space beer, and some big ol green space titties right fuckin now!" The human interrupted and Globrax was shocked to see him raise the burning stick to his lips and inhale its smoke.
"What is it doing with that, what's that burning stick made from?" Globrax asked Boobzy.
Boobzy checked his data screen, "Mostly poisonous and carcinogenic chemicals."
"To us, you mean?" Globrax checked.
"No, to him as well." Boobzy confirmed, "Apparently it relaxes him."
Globrax's eyes widened. *This* was a relaxed human?
"We ask for your assistance in stopping the dreaded Smearnox Armada from conquering our territories on the outer rim of the galaxy." Globrax pressed on, "Will you help us?"
"Space titties!" The human shouted back, "Space t-i-t-e-e-s! E-Titty phone home? Comprende?"
"I believe he might be trying to negotiate terms for his services." Boobzy said studying the human cautiously.
Globrax turned back to the human, "Very well, we will look into procuring you these... space titties. In exchange we can provide you with whatever armaments you may need to fight off this illegal alien invasion."
The humans eyes narrowed as if attempting a thought, "Hold up, y'all gonna get me som'uh those laser guns what go *pewpewpew* and have me shooting at n' bucha illegals?"
"Yes..." Globrax said cautiously, "I suppose that summarizes it."
The corners of the humans mouth turned up as he bared several crooked teeth. *Was this a threat or a sign of pleasure* Globrax thought *or both?*
"Shit greenbro," the human cried out, "that's all you had to say."
|
Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer.
This reminds me of the time the people of the town of Ploop hired me to defend them from a clan of dropwights.
I should tell you up front -- and I'm ashamed of this, mind -- that they didn't hire me for any grand and noble reason. At that time of my life I didn't have the reputation I have now, as a defender of the weak, the meek, and the creek out back of my armory. Back then, that was my drinking time, and I was a black-hearted rascal when I had the drink in me. As I understand it, it was a bar fight that convinced the Ploopers to see me about defending their town.
As an aside, I should mention that this barfight was no ordinary fight. It was me against a merman, a unihorn, two shuddering skeletones, and a whyvern -- these are like wyverns, but with the annoying habit of questioning everything. I'll spare you the details of the fight, but let's just say that the merman returned to the sea, the unihorn was later described as a no-horn, the skeletones lay still, and the whyvern got such a lesson that it stopped asking questions. I'm not proud of how the fight started -- my mermish isn't great and I misheard an insult when the merman burped -- but I'm proud of how thoroughly I settled it.
Ploop, when I got there, was the sorriest town I ever did see. No ring wall, no trenches, no guard towers. All it had were flower-lined streets, a bustling farmer's market, and a population of cheerful, agreeable folk who never had a negative thing to say. Miserable. The town was a baby overburdened with candies; it was no wonder the dropwights had come for the taking.
At our first meeting, the mayor wanted to get right down to business, but, being the drinker I was back then, I first made him pay up. "The deal was as much drink as I can stomach."
They came up with a barrel of ale, a tankard of wine, and a carved pewter drum of mead. I knocked a hole in the mead and got to guzzling while the mayor explained their situation. "The dropwights came last month. They robbed our market stalls and emptied our granary. They told us they'd be back for our new summer harvest. They've already bankrupted us. Without the harvest, we'll starve."
Deep as I was in my drunken confidence, I took the mayor around the shoulders, gave him a hearty shake, and told him he had nothing to worry about. "I'm Lance Ravenbow, professional romancer and troublemaker. You've got nothing to fear."
I spent the next week on holiday. This is to say that I spent the next week drunk out of my mind. The mead went first, I remember that much. From there, it's all a haze of wine, ale, and questions from the Ploopers.
"How should we prepare for the dropwights?" they wanted to know.
"Will you be ready to defend us when the time comes?" they asked.
"How can we trust that you'll keep us safe?"
To all these questions I responded with slurred speech and imprecations. How dare they question my competence -- that sort of thing. But eventually the mayor came along and he asked me a different sort of question: "Are you happy?"
I regret the way I responded to him. He was an older man, maybe forty years my senior, and he had the lined face and wiry limbs of a man who'd worked hard for a living his entire life. I can only guess at what he expected to hear from me, and I haven't the faintest clue what wisdom he hoped to give. Unfortunately, the answer I gave him was a torrent of vomit on his sandaled feet.
The dropwights came the next morning, and the scene that followed was a tragedy. If you're unfamiliar with dropwights, allow me to describe them to you. They are the bastard off-spring of a fox, a frog, and a deep well of hatred. They run along the ground on all fours, their nostrils snuffling and their mean eyes scouring, until they find prey, at which point they leap high into the air, propelled by some ungodly force, to drop down, blades first, on their victim. They smell like rotten blood, they sound like broken pottery, and they look like a human-shaped clump of hair and knives. The clan that attacked Ploop came in screeching.
I stumbled out of my quarters, flail in hand, only half-dressed in my armor, and I screamed back at them. "You'll never take this town, you forsaken nothing-beasts! Do you know who I am? I'm Lance Ravenbow, professional ass-whooper, and I eat dropwights for breakfast! And lunch! But not dinner, you're so foul that even a gut as powerful as mine needs a break!"
The dropwights had been focused on corralling the Ploopers into the farmer's market while a handful plundered the granary. At my screaming, three broke away from the farmer's market. They leapt into the air, and when they came down blades-first, they found only air. I rolled away, kicked out the legs of one, and flailed the other two until they couldn't tell what was or was not their skin. The third found its feet just in time for me to elbow it senseless.
"Is that the best you got?" I screamed again. "Come on, you jackanapes!" I was moving toward the granary. The Ploopers, though surrounded, were defending themselves with long spears and planks of wood, and it appeared that they could hold awhile. What mattered more was preventing the dropwights from making off with the harvest.
This was when my body failed me. No, it's more accurate to say that my habits failed me. And that is to say that the way I understood my purpose in life failed me. It did this in the form of vomit. The night before I'd had half a gallon of wine and half a gallon of ale, and the full gallon of rancid liquor came spilling up from my gut when I was halfway to the granary.
The dropwights took this opportunity to do what they do best. They dropped on me. Wightly. (I'm not sure what that means. But it sounded good.)
At that time I wasn't yet the professional armorer that I am now, but I was a journeyman armorer with a flair for the unnecessarily secure. Try as they might, the dropwights, who are not well known for their cool heads or pinpoint accuracy, could not pierce my plate mail. I couldn't get up, but I could laugh at them, and that's what I did. The situation would indeed have been hilarious if, while that was going on, the dropwights hadn't made off with the supply of the granary.
What was worse, when the dropwights finally left, I discovered that not all the Ploopers had survived. The town's population gathered in the farmer's market around the fallen body of their mayor. What confused me was that he hadn't died where the townsfolk had been gathered. His body was at the edge of the market square.
"He was coming to rescue you," the townsfolk told me.
My heart fairly broke, then.
This old man, this kindly old man, who'd seen me drinking myself senseless when I should have been preparing defenses, this old man who'd wanted only to know whether I was happy in life, had died for me. What a waste I was. What a drain. I thought my fighting gave me worth, but when the going got tough, all I'd turned out to be was a liability. I wasn't a professional of any sort. I was Lance Ravenbow, unprofessional mess.
The Ploopers gathered round me, and once again they had questions.
"What will we do?"
"How will we survive?"
"What will we eat?"
This time, I had an answer for them. "You'll do what you've always done. You'll survive easily. You'll eat your harvest." And with that, I donned my armor, limbered my flail, and headed off in the direction of the dropwight's camp.
There's not much more to be said about this story. I visited great violence on the dropwights, and I returned to the Ploopers with their harvest.
They would survive the winter, and for that I was proud. But the mayor would not be with them. He lives on in my heart and my actions. That was the day I gave up drinking.
\*
*Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer. If you'd like to hear more of my stories -- which you should, I'm fascinating -- join me at* r/RavenbowsArmory.
| 2021-08-07T20:02:29 | 2021-08-07T18:11:41 | 131 | 96 |
[WP] The outgoing President of the United States has written a letter to the newly inaugurated President. Instead of friendly advice, that letter contains the horrible truth that the public doesn't know about. Write that letter.
What is that horrible secret?
|
To whom it may concern,
Congratulations on becoming the President of the United States. It's pretty awesome. But let's not bother with stating the obvious, and let me get straight to the point.
There is something that I have been...neglecting for some time now. I suppose there are many things that have gone to the wayside while I dealt with the drone strikes, struggling economy, health care, and all of that other stuff. But there is one thing that, well, it is quite personal. I'll just get straight to it then.
The toilet in the restroom connected to the oval office has been out of commission for a few weeks. I broke that chain thing that connects the flush handle to the little rubber plug in the bottom of the tank. I kept forgetting to tell someone about it, but then after a while it just became embarrassing. I've crafted what I am calling a Knock Down Stick to use to keep the buildup of excrement from touching my rear end. However, I'm afraid that won't do for much longer.
Therefore I place upon you this great burden to face as your first task in office. Do you A) Admit that there is a big pile of poop in the most important toilet in the world? Or B) Sneak some of the poop out of the restroom and dump it elsewhere, making more room and continued use of the Knock Down Stick?
Farewell and good luck.
P.S. The Knock Down Stick is hidden behind the black leather loveseat.
|
Hey Dogg,
It’s President Obama. Well, former-President Obama. What’s good? Don’t bother responding to that, this is an email and I won’t be able to hear what you said. I mean, you’re welcome to respond if you want, but it’s really not going to do much for you. Yeah, maybe it’ll make this whole “hey we’re cool dog” email feel a bit more personal—like you’re really talking to the Obaminator—but I honestly won’t have any idea that you said something. You’re probably thinking “Obamster, look, I’ll just reply to the email and you’ll get it.” Wrong. Wrong as shit. I’m sending this from my super high-security self-destructing email. It doesn’t actually self-destruct, it’s just my [email protected] account that I don’t know the password to. If you respond, I won’t get it. Let’s just make this easy on us both—I’m going to assume you said something like, “Not much, my man, how are you?” I’m super fly. Anyway, let’s get on with it.
I’m sure you’re wondering something like, “Why is the 44th President, and the flyest motherfucker this side of D.C., sending me an email?” This answer is a two parter: A) Because I’m the motherfucking Obamatron. I do what I want, when I want, how I want. Whack-ass bill passed by congress? Fuck that shit, Presidential Veto. Some playa hacking off the heads of hoes in Iraq or Iran or New Zealand or some shit? Drone strike, bitch. And 2) Because I need to tell you something about being the President, a horrible truth you must know. Also, III) Because fuck you.
Firstly, let’s just clear the air: I’m not mad at you for taking my job, but I do think you’re a bitch. Those two are not mutually exclusive, I can think you’re a bitch and still not be mad at you. And you are a bitch, everyone agrees. Even my daughter says you’re a bitch. Let’s not argue that, though, let’s just get back to me not being mad at some little bitch like you. You see, I’ve been the Leader of the Free World (shout-out to my man Eminem for *8 Mile*) for eight years now. It was time for me to move on, I chose to leave the office. It had nothing to do with the whole “get out after eight years” bullshit, I chose to leave. Plus, I’m already lined up for a killer gig down in Colorado, where the sun shines bright and the weed burns hot. I’m going to work in a dispensary and blaze all day. I can get you a job too if you want, but you’ll have to ditch the whole President gig. Up to you.
Anyway, look. Here’s what I got to say. I was the Prez for 8 years, I saw a lot of shit go down. I once saw a guy get his dick bit off by a tiny Chihuahua my daughter’s friend brought over. I’m gonna premise this next bit by assuring you that I ain’t no homo (but I’m all for them getting all married and whatever), but that guy’s schlong was like three feet longer than the dog. I was almost as upset as the dude for such a glorious thing being ruined. It was like *Fight Club*, that dog just wanted to destroy something beautiful. Don’t worry, though, I hear he had it medically re-attached and now it’s like three times girthier due to the swelling. I wouldn’t mind getting a peek of that bad-boy, know what I'm saying?
Sorry, I got off topic a bit. Back on point: I’ve seen some shit. I’ve seen a lot of people die, a lot of people get hurt. I’ve seen things inner-city kids that work the nightshift as prison guards in third world countries would get nightmares from. You’re going to see the same, they’re going to haunt you. But there’s one fact, one horrible truth, that is going to trump everything you’ve ever seen, or will see, which I want to share with you. And I don’t care if you’re some whack-ass motherfucker like John McCain (I know, who’s that? LOL) who was in a P.O.W. camp, this shit’s worse. So, look, here’s your opportunity. If you don’t wanna hear this shit from me right now, close this email and delete it. Otherwise, you best brace for impact cause we goin’ in hot.
Area 51 actually exists for the sole purpose of abducting random people, then probing them rectally. It’s not for any scientific research, or any monetary gain, or any purpose other than probing a bunch of cracka-ass white guys in overalls or, say, fancy black guys in expensive suits. Honestly, I’ve done a ton of research into it. I spent more nights awake, locked in the Library of Congress, trying to find anything and everything to make it logical, than I did doing actual Presidential shit. I even hired that Nicholas Cage guy to look at the back of random pictures and books and do some of that *National Treasure* shit we all love. He found nothing, I found nothing. You know what I’m saying, dogg? The United States Government is abducting random people and shoving foreign objects up their butts just to say they did. And it ain’t just recently, neither. This shit’s been going on since the beginning of our great nation. And they don’t care if you’re the President--in fact, that makes it worse and more frequent.
Do you understand me? They do not care if you are the President. Let that sink in.
I hope you appreciate my warnings, dogg. I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s only going to get worse. I wish I had known earlier, wish I had realized the truth before I opted to sleep in the nude (which I still do, no homo). I hope you can protect yourself.
Keep tight, you bitch,
Barack Hussein Obama, Former President of the United States of America
| 2014-05-01T13:46:18 | 2014-05-01T13:44:04 | 56 | 38 |
[WP] Humans are one of if not the only species in the galaxy who can heal their wounds naturally. Your alien friend is learning this for the first time after they accidentally hurt you
Apologies for the wordy title
|
Blork looked down in horror at her new friends hand, the knife was on the floor and the deathly red liquid was seeping from the gash.
"I am sorry my companion, I have ended you, what do you request of me in your final moments"
James looked at Blork and the cut on his hand.
"It's alright, just a cut, stop being so melodramatic and hand me that towel"
Blork nodded profusely and handed the towel to James, then spoke softly.
"I will now sing the song of passing of my people"
She abruptly started humming and swaying from side to side while James cleaned his hand,
It was funny for a few minutes but after the third hour the humming was starting to get tedious.
James was fed up and walked back into the kitchen.
"Blork.... blork!"
He shouted over the humming
"I'm okay! Not dead, it was just a cut"
Blork stopped humming as quickly as she started and spoke almost instantly after.
"I was wondering why you hadn't died yet"
James shook his head slightly
"It was just a cut, it will heal in a few days"
Blork looked at James with confusion displayed on her face.
"Heeeeel? The power of regeneration?! This is the first I have known of an intelligent species having such power. The only species I know to have this is the grand blorb from my planet, can you recover from the same wounds as it can too?"
James smiled smugly, feeling rather proud that he was unique to his friend.
"Why of course, it's an amaz~"
Blork interrupted
"I shall test"
Then promptly broke James' neck.
After the first ten minutes of waiting for James to get back up Blork resumed humming and swaying.
|
When I was young, I enjoyed nothing more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They were so simple, and yet so tasty at the same time. The creamy goodness of the peanut butter blended in with the sweetness of the jam made my mouth explode with joy and the fact that I could easily assemble one(albeit with no small amount of mess) without my mother's constant guidance didn't hurt either. Of course, I couldn't really make anything else so it wasn't as if I had a choice. But out of the single choice of food I had, it was a damn good choice.
I remember one afternoon I was making sandwiches with a friend of mine, James. The butter knives, having already been used for other purposes, sat in the sink waiting to be cleaned. So, despite knowing that our parents would not approve, 8 year old me and James stood on our tip toes to reach the kitchen knives that my mother kept in an almost unreachable part of the cupboard(ironically so that we would not be able to reach them) so we could make our sandwiches.
I was a few inches too short to be able to grasp the handle of the knives, so I went and got the bread, peanut butter, and jelly out while James arched his back and the soles of his feet to be able to take one of the knives down. After I'd opened up the jars, James walked over to me with one of the knives. I picked out four slices of bread and placed them down on a plate and he handed me the knife.
James paced around the kitchen in anticipation of our meal while I used the knife to spread jelly across the bread. I was halfway to going towards the peanut butter when the all-too-eager James bumped into me. I dropped the knife. As it fell through the air, I reflexively reached out to grab it. Big mistake. My hand grasped the blade, leaving a small cut across my right palm. Not only had I reached out to grab a falling knife, I had done so with my non-dominant hand. 8 year old me never stood a chance.
Instinctively, I dropped the knife a second time and held my hand in pain while blood began to steadily ooze out. I didn't want it to get everywhere, so I put my tongue to it and lapped it up. Not the most hygienic of methods, but it got the job done. At this age, I was no stranger to injury. I'd had my fair share of cuts and bruises playing outside. But looking up, it seemed that James had not.
His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he realized what had happened. I could see his shoulders rise and fall as his breathing intensified. Hell, I could hear his breathing speed up. The poor kid seemed more hurt than me and he wasn't even the one that had just been cut.
"Are you okay?" I asked him. For some reason, I thought that maybe he had gotten hurt too, despite the knife falling a good few inches away from his vicinity.
Tears began to well in his eyes and he loudly cried out "I'm sorry!"
"It's okay. I'm fine." I reassured him, putting some childlike cheer into my voice intentionally so that he would know I was being sincere.
"Nooooo..." He squeezed out. "Your hand... you need a hospital." He pointed to my hand, now dripping blood on the floor and counters then began sobbing, clearly showing regret for his mistake.
"It's okay, I'll just put a few band-aids on it." I told him. At this point I was more concerned for him that I was for myself. Thankfully, the fact that I didn't seem to be worried about the cut calmed him and his sobbing began to slow.
"Band-aid?" He said, perplexed. It sounded as if he'd never heard of them. As it turned out, he hadn't. James belonged to a species of alien that couldn't heal the way that humans do. Their planet was mostly a safe and peaceful one, with few threats that were far in between. Combined with the thick skin of their species, they seldom encountered injury and hadn't evolved to the point where they could heal in the same way that humans could. So, to a member of his species, the result of a simple kitchen accident could be deadly. Though, thankfully, his skin was thick enough that the knife probably wouldn't be hurting him the same way it did me.
"Yeah, a band-aid. It's this thing you put on when you get bleed and it stop the bleeding so you can get better." I told him. I figured it would be better to show him than to tell him. So I ran off to my mother's medicine cabinet where she kept the band-aids and pulled out a box. I ran back to James and showed him one of the wrapping. I cut off the edges of the little paper packaging, followed by the little bits that keep the glue from drying out, and started inexpertly covering the cut with band-aids. I probably used six or seven and my hand was coated in them by the time I was done.
James' tears had finally stopped, he was calm now and the look on his face was one of awe. "I can't do that." He said.
"Why not?" I asked him.
He looked puzzled for a moment. "I don't know, but one time my dad got a cut like that and he had to go to the hospital. Now his leg has this plastic stuff in it. It keeps him from bleeding."
Plastic sealants are, of course, incredibly inconvenient and expensive to get. But to the eight year old me, they sounded flat out awesome.
"Cool, I wish I could get one of those. D'ya think mom would let me get one instead of the band-aids?"
"I dunno, you should ask her."
"I don't think we should tell her about this..." My voice trailed off thinking of what my mother would do if she found out I'd been using one of her knives without permission and actually ended up hurting myself in the process. Not to mention getting my friend James involved. There would be Hell to pay if she ever heard what we'd done.
Knowing my luck, that hell did not take long to arrive. Much like the devil, my mother decided to walk in the door at the most inopportune of moments to see James with slightly red eyes, me with my hand mummified by band-aids, and one of her good knives lying on the floor like last week's garbage. Suffice to say, James was sent home after that and we never got to finish our sandwiches.
| 2017-05-11T02:50:32 | 2017-05-11T01:50:11 | 224 | 46 |
[WP] The young sorceress climbed into the cave. “A contest”, she proposed. “If I win I claim all your artifacts and runes.” The old wizard stood up and laughed. “And if I win you become my student”.
|
The young sorceress climbed into the cave. “A contest”, she proposed. “If I win I claim all your artifacts and runes.”
The old wizard stood up and laughed. “And if I win you become my student”.
"Fine," she said.
"As the challenged party, I will choose the contest and the place."
"No way!" she protested.
"Then get the hell out of my cave."
She crossed her arms. "Fine," she said. "Then you choose."
"And you have just lost the first contest. The lesson is that you never let your enemy dictate the rules of engagement."
"What? That wasn't a contest!"
"Not much of one, anyway. You're not much of an opponent."
In anger, she quickly gathered a spell and hurled it at the old wizard.
It failed.
"You have just lost the second contest. And the second lesson is that you never do battle in a place of your enemy's strength."
"This is stupid," she said. "You don't fight fair."
"And the third lesson is that no fight is ever fair. One combatant will always have an advantage."
"That's all you've got, old man? A basket of trite platitudes? Then forget it." She looked around at the cave in disgust. "Anyway, I don't see anything in here worth taking from you."
The old wizard smiled, and reached inside a voluminous pocket of his robe. When he withdrew his hand, there was an object of great beauty in his fingers, spinning with dazzling light and color, and humming with energy.
It took her a week to steal it from him, and it turned out to be made of cheap electronics, nothing more than a plastic battery-powered toy.
"And the fourth lesson is that you learn not to trust an enemy's advertising."
They became great friends.
A century later, after sharing too many wondrous adventures to count, he finally lay dying, the fires of his incarnation spent. She tended him at his bedside.
"You taught me everything," she said.
"No, not everything. There is one final lesson."
"And that is?"
"You must find a worthy student. And in learning from you, the student will teach you the rest."
"And so you win again," she said smiling.
"We both won," the old wizard said. "Every time."
|
Treasa panted as she finally heaved herself over the lip of the rock ledge. *Go up to Bristleskin Peak*, they had said. *He makes his home in a cave, tucked into the highest mountain*.
It was out of her way. It was *really* out of her way. But despite the hours-long ride, and the climb that left her covered in sweat, and the mud that soiled her elegant silk trousers, she was finally here.
The cave of the Geomancer. Legend of the three kingdoms, slayer of the wyrm, advisor to the king. Now, just a lowly hermit. She couldn't fathom why someone would choose such a life, after their past accomplishments.
She paused, her hands on her knees, and tried to get her body to stop *complaining*. It simply wouldn't do for her to meet such a great man in such a shameful state. Her family would be beside itself at the disgrace.
Footsteps echoed on the rock in front of her. The sound ricocheted against a cliff wall. Her head snapped up.
A man was standing in the opening of the cave, wearing a simple brown robe. His hair was silver with age, and his face deeply lined. He was watching her with disinterest. She shot straight in an instant.
"Are- Are you the Geomancer?" She stammered. Gods! She'd made it all this way, only to blubber like a fool? She threw her mane of blonde hair back, trying to regain some semblance of decorum. With one judicious eye, she inspected his robe. It was plain and brown, yes, but of solid make.
This must be him after all.
"I am here to challenge you!" She declared. The man didn't say anything, merely watched. "A-A contest." She continued. He puffed on a long, tapered cigarette, the kind favored by their ilk. She paused, a touch nonplussed by his continued silence. "If I win, I claim rights to all of your artifacts. All your relics, your tomes and wands, all your artifacts and runes."
"Fine." The old man spoke at last, pulling the cigarette free from his lips. "But if I win, you'll remain as my student."
She blinked, then, stopped completely in her tracks by the unexpected comment. He smiled at her. It didn't seem to reach his eyes.
*He's just an old man*. She thought to herself. *I am* Treasa Middleston, *eldest daughter of one of the oldest mage clans in the realm. He is no match for me. Even if he* is *smiling in such an off-putting way."
"Well. Well then. Are you prepared?" She asked, settling into a more ready stance. "I will allow you the first attack, as I have entered your home uninvited." It was a little much, but she had been taught to stand on manners. It wasn't going to make a difference, anyway. No one had been able to stand up to her for years, not even her classmates entire Orders ahead of her.
"That's quite all right." The old man said, still smiling. "You are a guest. I insist."
Something was wrong. She could feel something gathering underfoot, a wave of energy or power. She couldn't process what it might mean. It didn't resonate with any of the schools of magic she knew.
And so she ignored it, throwing herself into her spell instead.
She wanted to win. She didn't want to *hurt* the old man.
It was a simple spell. One syllable, no more, with a flick of the fingers. One she could cast blind and with her hands tied behind her backs. Simply a tiny knot of arcane energy, which stilled her opponent's vocal cords. One of her own invention, of course. It had won her many a tournament, with her stunned opponent left wordless and open.
Sure enough, she saw the tiny wink of light as her magic slipped under his skin. A broad grin spread across her face.
She walked slowly up to him, pulling out the wand tucked into her sash.
"Unless you can cast, that's my victory!" She crowed. She laid the tip of the wand on his collarbone. He opened his mouth, then blinked as his words failed him.
Then, smiling, he nodded. And bowed.
She released the spell a moment later.
"Excellent! I'm sorry, old man, but your relics will go to good use." She said, grinning broadly as she pushed past him. And they would. She had *plans* for them. She *needed* them. If she didn't pay off the debts her family had racked up *soon*, then-
She stopped, staring in frozen horror at what lay beyond.
A single room, just a rock cave. A bed was tucked against one wall - simply a wooden frame with a warm blanket. A fireplace, and a chimney.
That was it.
"Where are they." She hissed, turning on him. "I *won*. We had a deal."
"I agreed that you could take all of my artifacts, if you won." He said, nodding slowly. "All my relics, and my tomes, and my wands."
"Then where-"
"And why," He said, enunciating clearly so that she could hear, "would I have use for such clumsy tools?" He grinned. "I am the Geomancer. Such trifling things are beneath me, wouldn't you agree?"
She stared blankly. She had miscalculated. She had made a grave, grievious error. Her lips pressed together in a tight line. She didn't have time to play this old man's games.
Giving in, she spun on her heel. It had been a long trip. She didn't have time to waste.
But the entrance to the cave behind her was closed. Sealed by rock, pulled and twisted into intricate formations. She gaped at the sight of it.
"Oh, dear." The old man chuckled. "What a mess! And I'm afraid I'm exhausted from our little match." His eyes twinkled. "If only I had some young type around to help me. I'm sure I could show them how to clear such a *simple* barrier."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
She glared back down. Her hands curled into fists at her side.
It was his victory after all, wasn't it. She had been in enough matches to recognize something as simple as that.
She had made a promise.
Slowly, hating herself with every inch, she lowered herself into a bow.
"As promised, then. Teacher."
(/r/Inorai, critiques always welcome!)
| 2017-10-24T09:42:45 | 2017-10-24T07:52:56 | 120 | 69 |
[WP]A brave knight hunts an infamous dragon, and local villagers spend days telling him not to pursue his quest, to no avail. Eventually, one villager gets fed up and says, "Look us and the lizard have a good thing going here. Don't ruin it."
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The Knight sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb “Elaborate”
“Well we’ve all come to a consensus that all this feudalism nonsense isn’t working for us at the bottom rung” said the Peasant.
“It is your duty to serve your Lord and King, peasant” said the Knight high upon his horse.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Why is it my duty? I certainly didn’t vote for either of them. And what have they done for me? Taken the fruit of my labours in taxes to spend on God knows what. Some bejewelled toilet I expect.”
“Is there a point to the treasonous talk?”
“Yes, well, ever since the dragon’s been staying here all you toffs have been too scared to come in and enforce your draconian laws and taxes. So bugger off you tin-plated git”
“I’m still trying to put this all together, what is it the dragon gets out of this exactly?” Said the Knight, frustrated.
“It’s a hard life out there for a dragon with all you iron-clad ponces running around stabbing them with your glorified knives. The dragon’s got a nice place to sleep here, every now and then we bring him a goat, some tea and the newspaper. Occasionally we bring it a virgin, but don’t worry the dragon doesn’t eat them or anything, we just bring them Mavis’ Cyril and they have a chat about Dr Who for a bit.”
“So then what happened to last 3 knights that came here to slay the dragon?”
“They’ve joined the community. I think Lancelot’s lounging at leisure centre. Percival’s pruning petunias and Galahad’s day drinking by the fountain, look there he is, oops, just fallen in”
The Knight dismounted his horse.
“Look,” said the peasant, “We’ve got a good thing going on here so either jump back on your pony and piss off or grab a pint and go join Galahad in the fountain”.
|
The purposeless Wisgarius trudged, unthinking, along the sole road out of the small town of Edgewood, staring only at his shadow, cast by the full moon at his back. His purpose, for the last 10 years, was simple: Kill Aerlaes, Bringer of Death. Kill the damned dragon that killed his father, Hildebrant the Brave, leaving behind only the scabbard Wisgarius now leaned on with every step. The conversation that robbed him of this goal concluded just a few minutes ago.
“What do you mean, you’ve got a good thing going? This dragon has slain men! The town of Meadowbrook turned to ruins in one night because this foul beast willed it so! How can you defend this… this monster?!”
Marvin Omenblood raised his hand with a smile before gesturing towards the now-empty stool in front of him.
“Noble hero, please. Take a seat. Not everything is as it seems. Take me, for example. My family name begets unease, and understandable it is, but I daresay I have treated you with unmatched kindness and respect. Granted, your miraculous uh… Egg-Jessel brought my father back, but it is what it is, eh?” Marvin glanced at his father. The man was audibly snoring, after years of lifelessness.
It wasn’t too odd for Marvin to keep his father in bed, alive, but also not alive, for so long; in fact, it was quite understandable. Before it was eradicated a decade prior, the Noxotta flower claimed many tens of victims, placing them in a completely comatose but non-deteriorative state. And while Yggdrasil sap, the sole cure, was difficult to come by for poorer folk, it merely took one generous adventurer passing through to save the day. Many towns closer to the capital had had their Noxed population fully cured. When Wisgarius arrived 2 days earlier, he took pity on Marvin and his father, missing his own, and offered his second-to-last bottle of sap.
Still quite annoyed, but now slightly intrigued, Wisgarius took a seat.
“Yggdrasil. The sap I gave him was extracted from Yggdrasil. But go on. What could I possibly be missing?”
“Noble hero, like a plague, misinformation spreads wildly and indiscriminately. The town of Meadowbrook succumbed to an army of orcs passing through, not Aerlaes.”
“Aerlaes, Bringer of Death,” Wisgarius corrected.
Marvin sighed. “Please, hero, allow me to finish.” He took a sip from his cup before continuing. “Now, as I was saying, Aerlaes was not the cause of Meadowbrook’s demise. In fact, the dragon laid the orcs to rest shortly after the incident. I know this because I was there. My father and I originally hail from Meadowbrook. We were returning from the capital when we saw smoke rising from the town’s direction. We rushed to the nearest hills, and from there we saw the atrocities the orcs were committing. And we could do nothing. We were not equipped. If we had tried to help, we would have been slain as well. We camped out on the hill until the orcs left, but they were marching briskly in our direction. This is when, by some miracle, Aerlaes flew in from behind us and laid waste to the orcs!”
Wisgarius was not impressed. “Okay, let’s say the Bringer of Death didn’t destroy Meadowbrook. It still didn’t \*save\* it. It is still a dragon, a threat to be neutralized! It has killed men!”
Marvin remained unsettled. “Think, hero. Of all disasters Aerlaes is claimed to have caused, which can you prove?”
“Hildebrant the Brave! The greatest knight of Dinaria’s history, slain in his sleep in the woods just outside this town! Not even his bones remained!” Wisgarius was again standing, twitching with anger. He did not even care what the man in front of him would reply. No circumstance could forgive the dragon’s deed. He had just about left the hut when Marvin’s next words forced him to return to his seat.
“Ahh, yes, I remember Hildebrant. He was the first to come to attempt to slay Aerlaes. The look on your face tells me you didn’t know that. Ah, that’s right, the story was that he was traveling to the furthest cities from the capital in search of talent. No no, he made it clear he was here to slay the dragon, but we made sure to tell him that was unacceptable. You see, Aerlaes protected this town. Not directly, but ever since he settled in the--whoops, almost let that slip--but anyway, after Meadowbrook, other creatures avoid this area. I’m sure you noticed that within a radius of half a day’s ride on horseback there are no troublesome creatures to be found. We like that security. And after word of Hildebrant’s demise went around, travellers like yourself started arriving, hoping to be the one to slay him. Meaning more business for us and great trade! You’re the first to have Yggdrasil to spare, though.”
“Wait wait wait wait wait. I’m listeneing, but I'm still not hearing anything proving me wrong about the creature and Hildebrant, let alone the other adventurers he’s slain.”
Marvin’s face went grim, and he replied matter-of-factly, “Listen hero, if the dragon disappears, as does our safety, our business, everything. No one has a reason to travel this far if not for the dragon. I mean, at first, it was just to keep Aerlaes around for protection, but warrior after warrior kept coming and so many refuse to get turned away peacefully! So we handle the stubborn ones and ditch their belongings in the woods. Say the dragon did it, attract more eager heroes. I figure it further deters the smaller creatures. It’s my turn; I was supposed to poison you tonight and throw you to the dogs, but you saved my father so I’m letting you go. It’s not personal, really. I hope you understand. We cannot give up our protector.”
Wisgarius was doing everything he could to contain his anger. He needed an answer, and he knew would not get it if he snapped too soon. “Clever. I must assume Hildebrant met his end in this fashion?”
“Poor man. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. My father was the one, actually, he invited him in for tea and to ‘divulge the location of the beast’, but Hildebrant was good; he got my father with a Noxotta dart before the poison fully ki--”
Marvin’s head landed on the floor at about the same time the distraught knight’s sword thrust into the throat of the man in bed.
“It’s done, father.”
| 2019-04-15T02:03:23 | 2019-04-15T01:57:58 | 56 | 15 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villains doorstep one night. Theyre shivering bleeding scared. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly, close to passing out, they mumble “didn’t know where else to go” then collapse into the villains arms.
|
I sit alone in the darkened room of my living room, the faint light of the television illuminated me. I was unnerved by the feeling that I needed to do something. It had been weeks, almost two months since I had gone out and done something. Something bad, but Powerhouse never showed up for any of the times I decided to cause a little mayhem.
I knew something wasn't right in the back of my mind the third time she didn't show, but I didn't go off looking for her, even if I knew her secret identity. I look down at my blood covered hands, the moment when she came to my doorstep the other day, bloodied and broken, makes me regret not searching for her sooner.
I stood from my position and made my way to the bathroom to clean up. I'll never forget the look she had on her face when I found her on my doorstep. She was scared. A look that I had never seen on her face, even when she was close so to death many times before.
The scene still played out in my head. Her mumbling something I almost didn't catch, but I did end up catching her as she fell forward. She was light enough for me to carry her to my bedroom, so that wasn't the issue. I knew she was injured, badly, and I needed to help her.
I had taken care of her visible wounds while she was out, I didn't want her to assume I did anything to her. She awoke hours later and I gave her the strongest pain medication I had, which was just a cheap bottle of Excedrin so it wouldn't do much.
I begged her to tell me what happened, and she did. I wish I hadn't asked. Every graphic detail, every bone that snapped, every hit, every bit of her assault was told to me in confidence. My stomach tightened from what I was being told, someone who was so powerful, someone that was loved by thousands, someone who had saved the city countless times...
...was raped.
And not just from complete strangers either, those super powered ass wipes who were supposed to be her friends! If I didn't have a reason to hate them before, I at least had a reason to kill them now.
I took care of Pow- Jen, making sure she was healed to the best of my abilities, and with what little supply I had on hand. I let her stay in my house for a few days, stealing things from my work to help take care of her. The broken bones were a bit tricky, but I managed to get them set properly.
As I washed my hands from the blood of today, I looked at myself in the mirror. I may be a villain, I may be hated, I may want to see the world burn.
But I am no monster like them.
|
"I didn't know where else to go..." Little more came from the now collapsing knight's throat.
There were few reasons for him to have turned to me.
One - the most obvious and at the same time least likely one - is that he tried to pull a fast one on me, tried to use the subterfuge I had employed so often. A sentimental thought, only, since his "Honor" outranked any will to succeed, as he had spit in my face.
Another was to present his own surrender, and perhaps negotiate terms. He had done so plenty, yet it was evident that he was neither negotiating now nor capable of negotiating terms soon due to his wounds and sheer horror.
I ran my mind through it all. He was horrified, battered, bleeding out and quite cold. One of my commanders, perhaps? I didn't employ people with evident ice magic, too high of a chance to let people escape by looking, feeling, and sounding like they are dead when the thing that would destroy them let them cling to life a bit more.
Perhaps another threat, in it's desires completely orthogonal to our conflicting ones? Could be, though nothing of that sort has been on my radar. Then again, he'd more likely turn to his friends and companions before turning to me, and if they all needed help, they'd all be sitting next, or bandaging him.
Or he can't get to his friends, and needs something else from me. I need to do more research.
***
The door is locked, and I advised my servants to send any guests asking for entry away, no matter how beaten up, no matter how gloating or stressing they are. Letting another person in right now would increase the statistical odds of allowing any planned traps to spring on me to 28%.
The knight hasn't awoken yet. I throw a healing concoction into his face. The glass splinters and cracks, and while the pain must certainly be agonizing, the fluids do their best to mend these and other wounds.
He shrieks in pain. And slowly, he gets up. He looks about. He knows he is imprisoned, incarcerated. A cell, big enough for 5, populated with him and me alone. He sees that he still has his armor, his weaponry. He sees me.
"Come now, get your weapon out. You wanted a lesson."
Oh, he doesn't understand, but he still readies his weapon. He is defensive, waiting for me to hit first. His grasp is wavering, and a singular strike would break through his defenses if I hit firmly enough. Pathetic.
"I know why you are here. I have my eyes about. Your lovely little troupe has some trouble with some trickery, and it just about costed you your life. You couldn't get help, and you couldn't defeat them."
I strike down at him, an open swing above the head, which left me wide open if he had any aggression within him. He'd quickly realise that refusing to press his advantage would leave him wide open.
He tried blocking it. His gaze is filled with confusion, and then pain as the blade he held to block pressed down on his face. His balance is wavering, and he falls on his bottoms.
"Get up. Do it right." I guide him with my shortsword.
He raises himself up. He once more assumes a defensive position. I once more raise my blade to an overarc swing. And, once more, he tries to block. Once more, he is sent to the ground.
"Get up. I am getting tired of tutoring you, so put in your effort."
He raises himself up, still defensive, still so sentimental about actually attacking. I raise my blade again, but halt. His gaze is confusion, but a bit of fear still. Not a fear of me, it is different than other times.
"Could it be that you don't know how to attack non-lethally?" I wondered aloud.
His sword lowered, his stance turned from a defensive to none at all. He nodded.
"Well, that explains it. You certainly aren't weak to overpower a traitor within your ranks, which meant you didn't want to overpower them. If they were an ordinary traitor, having defected due to offers from my side, you'd not be hesitant, I'd guess. But your sentimentality in this matter suggests other means of provoking betrayal... Raise your weapon."
He did so, again. This time, I feigned an attack, and slammed the hilt into his face. The gemstone adorning it got bloodied, and his nose looked the part.
"This is for subduing. It hurts, doesn't it? But it rarely is lethal, even under repeated pummeling. And it gives the skull a mighty good rattle! Can shake off most of the things one falls victim to. The lovely daze of beauty, the heat of anger... Mind control?"
He looked, his eyes widening as a glimmer of hope flickers before him. He gets up all on his own, and I ready myself to attack.
My head rattles about mightily, my vision becomes slightly blurry. He attacked! He actually did it. "Well done. So, you know how to solve your little dilemma, don't you? There is one thing I need to stress, however... come closer."
He gets up, gets pretty close to me, half a meter distance.
"Now that you know how to solve the problem, it will be so much more satisfying to know you won't be able to use it." I smirk, and swing my blade diagonally upwards from it's resting position. It, too becomes bloodied, and the eyes that had been filled with hope and so much confusion, they even showed a little bit of clarity now. He knew I'd do this. He knew I would kill him.
His body slumps to the ground, lifeless. I drop my blade, and leave, locking the door. This kill doesn't need to make rounds. I already had enough people trying to avenge.
***
The rebellion had no stopping yet. It seemed as if they hadn't had problems at all. I was somewhat confused, until I got account from one escaping guard. He had seen the troupe I had in my sight for a long time, wrecking the place. A knight was at the forefront, with a shortsword, it's hilt gemmed, a snake carved into it.
I usually had a policy of letting people who bring me information alive, but this was a strand that he only didn't put together because he was a moron. If he blabbed this info to but one person more, they'd add together that that was clearly my blade. So letting him live was not an option. Luckily, there was a dead man's cell that evidently became vacant recently. I'd best put him in there.
***
My head hurts, rattling about. My sight is blurry, dizzy. I see the knight, smirking. He pulls away his - my blade. I am in a cave, around me markings and charts. I compose myself.
"Well, I guess this is a place of many things, though I'd say it is a prime place for cosmic malice. I tried to order the world around, and I turned into a pawn. I taught you to free your friends, and you free your enemy. Now, if you'd give me a second."
I compose myself. Wipe blood from my nose, gather my sword, get my footing right. All the while, they wait, patient, sentimental, pathetic fools.
"Alright. I hope you didn't expect me to just help you now. Pathetic. Ready yourselves. This is my final lesson!"
| 2019-08-04T04:39:57 | 2019-08-04T03:30:14 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] You are a minion in the service of a dark lord. Your master has tasked you with creating and spreading a prophecy about a chosen one, the only person who can defeat him, so that the so-called "heroes" will stop resisting his rule and instead wait for their savior to arrive.
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I grabbed the brush and made deep strokes. The fresh black paint glistened in the early morning as I hammered the paper onto the side of the general goods store.
*The chosen one is born! He will cleanse our world in his wake!*
The plan was simple.
My master, the evil Goblin King, wanted to take a different approach to his *hero* situation. The heroes were getting more bold and decisive, taking out more of his strongholds and soldiers than ever before. If the heroes continued at the rate they moved, the Goblin King and all of his loyal minions would be no more. I may not have been a King, but I was a damned good minion and I didn't want anything to change that by dying.
"We will give birth to a *chosen one*," my master said one night. "Not literally, but in all of the minds of the innocent, evil, and heroes alike. We will create a chosen one that is nothing more than a baby, then a child, then a teen--and by the time the chosen one is ready to assist the heroes in defeating me, it would have bought me enough time to sink my fangs in this world for good."
I remember I asked him, "but what of the heroes?" I stood bold near a bonfire. "What will make them halt their progress of besieging us? They've had nothing but success in recent times; would they truly stop and wait for a chosen one to mature?"
The face of the Goblin King made me sit back down. Quickly.
I wasn't surprised that I was tasked with doing most of the dirty work after that--especially after the beatings and torture, painting and hanging posters in the most treacherous parts of the world. Treacherous, that is if you're a goblin.
"What is this?" a deep-voiced man said as he yanked a freshly painted poster from my hand. "And why is it that only goblins are hanging up these posters around the Kingdom?"
"The chosen one is born," I said in my broken English. "He will rid us of villains like the Goblin King."
The tall man bellowed a deep, annoying laugh. "I thought most goblins were loyal to that wretched *king.*" He crumpled up the poster and tossed it into a puddle. "This town doesn't accept goblins."
"I'm not acquiring anything here," I said. "Just passing through."
"You're not welcomed here at all," the man said. "Now leave here. And if I see you hang up another one of these disgusting posters, we’ll see how green you will be once you're covered in your blood."
I shoved the loose papers and paint in my satchel and walked away. Down a road and away from the town. Away from the hate. The man would have probably received a reward for harming me. Doubled if he killed me--no justice for goblins.
*Hate is waiting for me at home, too,* I thought. *The Goblin King may be a goblin, but he sees me just as that man did. Filth. Nothing.*
I gazed over to a poster I had hung up on a message board on the way into town.
*The chosen one is born! He will cleanse our world in his wake!*
I took a deep breath and threw my satchel to the floor.
"That's where you were wrong, master," I said. "A chosen one was indeed born today. And I will cleanse this whole damned world until my last breath."
r/AJHWriting
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“With the highest amount of respect to you, my master, I’m unsure about this plan. I understand your great will and wit is only matched by the gods, but are you positive about this? What about Riza the heart snatcher or Jok the eye licker? Both seem more frightening than me.” The pint-sized goblin brushed his hands against one another, staring at his master, hoping this was just some small lack of judgement on his part. Sure, his master was perfect in every way, but even perfection is prone to the odd misstep.
“You doubt me Lagoth the foolish? I don’t believe I asked for your opinion on the matter. What did I ask of you again? Please remind me so I know what punishment to hand down when you disobey my order.” The gloomy vampire leant forward in his obsidian throne, red eyes locked on the goblin, awaiting his response.
“Y-you asked me to go to the village and spread a prophecy about a great hero. I just don’t know If I’m-“ Lagoth tripped over his words, tongue twisting as he tried to think up an excuse. His master’s blood-red eyes only seeming to stay focused on him, refusing to budge. “I just don’t know If I’m going to need a jacket. I would never refuse your orders, my great lord.” Lagoth threw his body towards the stone floor, bowing his head to his master.
The Dark Lord didn’t speak right away, enjoying the cowering sight before him, seeing the goblin glance up occasionally, seeing if the Dark Lord was still watching. “It is rather cold. Take a jacket. Now do your job.”
“Yes sir, of course, sir. I will do it right away. It will be my top priority. I won’t even have a bath or lunch. I might stop to get a jacket though, but you said I could get a jacket, so that’s not going against your mighty-“ The goblin rambled, hoping to appease his master, who seemed unimpressed.
“Now Lagoth, hurry before I put you in the bone pit again.” The Dark Lord flashed a grin, sharp fangs slipping from his mouth.
“Not the bone pit! The bones in that pit are still moving, and sometimes they pinch me. It’s cruel, even far too cruel for you. I’m sorry I’ll go right now.” With that, Lagoth was off, grabbing a jacket and heading into town.
“Stupid Master, making me do the hard jobs. He has two professional killers, and he sends the goblin into town to tell the prophecy. I’m going to get killed.” Lagoth hid his head in the oversized jacket he brought, ears drooping as he saw the town gates. He said some final goblin prayers before strutting into the village square.
“Listen up you idiots, I’m hear to tell you about a new prophecy.” He shouted his words, only to watch as the disinterested citizens wandered throughout the town, not giving the tiny goblin a look. “G-guys. I have a… please listen to me.” His head drooped lower until they could only see his large golden eyes poking out of the jacket. Was he really not intimidating enough to get any attention? Sure, he was a lower levelled minion, but he was still a minion.
“Tough crowd.” A woman said, staring down at the goblin from her stall. The stall coated in magic trinkets and wares, an assortment of goods fitting of a witch. “Have you tried raising your voice a little?”
“THIS IS AS LOUD AS MY VOICE GOES.” He screamed, earning a few side glances before everyone continued their business. He dropped onto his knees, giving up on his job. “I guess its back to the bone pits.”
“Bone pits? How ghastly. You know, I probably have an item that could help you. What about a dark day’s crystal? Smash this little bad boy and the skies will darken around you, that’s sure to bring some attention to you.” She held the coal colored crystal between her fingers. On her other hand, she raised two fingers. “Two gold.”
“Two gold? I don’t have any gold. I have a jacket, or fingers. Can I interest you in my fingers? You can have any finger but the middle ones. I need them for my traditional goblin greetings.”
“Mmm.” Was all the witch said, placing the crystal on the counter, thinking over the situation. “I don’t have an interest in fingers, so how about I put it on your bosses tab? If I need something, I’ll call on him.”
“I don’t know. Master doesn’t like it when we accept deals like those.”
“You can always go back empty-handed and enjoy the bone pits?” The Witch added, a teasing smile on her lips as she watched the goblin quickly snatch the crystal.
“Fine, but only because I hate the bone pit. This better work.” Lagoth wandered into the middle of the town’s square, finding a barrel to climb atop of. Cracking the crystal in his hand, the skies darkened, a horrible swirl of dark clouds appearing overhead. “Anyone who dares to face the Dark Lord will be slaughtered, for there’s only one hero who can slay him. Heed my warning and prepare that great one for battle or perish.”
The changing atmosphere caused the villagers to stop, many turning to face the goblin, sharing soft anxious mumbles among themselves. He had them fixated on his words until one rather muscular lumberjack shouted out.
“Oi, what’s this hero look like? Are they strong?” He asked, the eyes of the crowd fell back on Lagoth who just stood there frozen, feeling as though he was in one of those, not wearing pants at the battle dreams.
Lagoth looked to the Witch, who only offered him a shrug, having no additional input to give. His throat dried, struggling to get out the words. “She’s tall, wears a pointed hat and has a really annoying smile. Oh, and she dresses in this really weird black and purple gown, one that looks befitting of a noble but is made from commoner fabrics.”
The Witch glanced at her gown, fingers tracing along the black and purple fabric. A scowl appearing on her face, staring daggers at the goblin who now seemed to list things off with ease.
“She also has a really scary scowl and runs a magic shop. I think she might be a magic user as well.” The goblin let out a sigh of relief. He did it. He said a prophecy.
“You mean like that Witch over there?” The brutish lumberjack asked as all eyes turned to the Witches stall.
“Uh, oh. No, I’m sure that’s just a coincidence. It’s probably another person, just like her.” Lagoth discovering a massive hole in his description of the hero.
“No, that’s her. Bless the gods, a hero has come to save us. Go with the goblin, avenge our town, oh mighty Witch.” The Lumberjack went over to the Witch, motioning her towards the center of the town. The Witch looked displeased with the whole situation but was trapped in the lie. How could she say no to defeating the Dark Lord? The town would never allow it.
“Right, guess I will be off then. Lead me to your master.” The Witch grabbed Lagoth by the scruff of his neck, throwing him off the barrel, causing his head to smack into the dirt below.
“Ow, hey careful.” He spat out bits of dirt, jumping to his feet. “Right, let’s get going. Do you have a name hero?” Lagoth asked, realizing he would get so many days in the bone pit for this.
“Cynthia. Now hurry along, I believe we will have a lot to discuss with your master when we arrive.” The villagers cheered as the two left, beginning their sheepish walk towards the Dark Lords castle.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2021-03-17T21:24:21 | 2021-03-17T20:04:32 | 130 | 14 |
[WP] Humanity has finally achieved interstellar travel and has been acknowledged by other intelligent alien civilizations. The aliens were accepting and shared many pieces of information with the humans. However, what was most surprising is that they called us the "Second Colony of Humans."
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At the diplomatic reception, in the heart of the Council Station, it was almost a relief when Amit finally found himself no longer the center of attention. There was other business besides the arrival of the human ambassador, and perhaps some of the other representatives were politely trying not to monopolize his time.
The tall, catlike kasha mingled freely; the reptilian stlit seemed to gravitate towards the food tables; the furry, four-limbed iloo seemed to stay in their own small groups. No amount of diplomatic conditioning could fully break Amit’s instinct to associate alien species with the terrestrial animals they resembled.
Small tables were scattered across the hall with little plates of food, each labeled with the species it was safe for. Human digestion was surprisingly cross-compatible, he was learning. The xenobiologists back home would be very interested to learn that too.
“Ah, redbugs!” exclaimed a short, squat stlit; Sub-Ambassador Pop, Amit remembered. “One of *our* delicacies. How do you like it?”
“It is-” Amit took a bite. “Crunchy.”
Sub-Ambassador Pop’s eyes blinked in a stlit smile. “Indeed, indeed! These need more spice.”
“Spice,” Amit said, making an exaggerated blink back. “A pleasure our species have in common, it seems.”
“Aha,” Pop said. “Do most people on your colony enjoy it, then?”
Colony; the opening Amit had been waiting for. “Many do,” he said. “Is that something we also have in common with the *first* human colony?”
“Aha, you try to get me in trouble, Ambassador,” Pop made a jovial croak-laugh. “But of course I will say yes. The others present may say differently.”
“Others…” Amit started, hoping Pop would fill in the gap.
Before he could, he felt a warm paw on his back. “Our newest ambassador doesn’t know yet,” Ayana, his kasha liaison, said over his head.
“What don’t I know?” Amit asked. “Are there other humans here?”
“Of course there are,” Pop said quickly. “Ayana Kasha, you *must* tell him.”
“But you seem so very eager to,” Ayana seemed to purr back.
“Tell me what?” Amit said. “Where are the other humans?”
“Aha,” Pop said, with another blink-smile. “Why, all of us.”
“At one time,” Ayana added. “As soon as our ancestors had the technology, they shed their original phenotypes. For reasons of convenience,” she nodded at Pop, “or aesthetics,” she gestured at herself. “All except for the primitivist Second Colony. But we are *so* glad to have you back, elder brothers.”
|
"Second time?" asked the Chairholder of the Board of Nations. Other members murmured amongst themselves.
"That's what they say." The High Ambassador spread her hands. "The Galactic Confederacy's diplomats mentioned several times in passing about another human space-faring polity they've encountered."
"Preposterous!"
The Grand Deacon slammed his fist on the table. "Scripture clearly states that the gods created our world and humanity some thousand years ago." He pointed an accusing finger at the High Ambassador and her delegation. "I've preached against using the technological gifts they graciously have left us for this so called space-exploration. Scripture clearly states..."
"Not everyone here agrees with what scripture clearly states, Grand Deacon," cut in the Chairholder. "Many of us, including myself, don't even believe in scripture or the gods at all."
The Grand Deacon looked shock, though more at the Chairholder's bluntness than at his non-belief. "Then why am I even here?" He didn't have to be. Board members were not required to attend every single meeting, and he wasn't really interested in the High Ambassador's mission to the alien Galactic Confederacy.
"Tradition mostly, there has always been a Grand Deacon on the Board for two hundred years. But also because the High Ambassador here specifically requested your presence."
The Grand Deacon scowled. The High Ambassador wasn't a native of the Holy Heartlands and therefore a heretic at best. Likely a non-believer if she was for space-exploration. The Grand Deacon shuddered. At least she wasn't a Monotheist. Those people had a funny and potentially dangerous view about the world's creation. None of the fringe Monotheist nations ever expressed an interest in joining the Board.
The High Ambassador nodded. "In your youth, you were renowned among theological circles of your complete memorization of scripture."
The Grand Deacon nodded, surprised at the gentle flattery. Memorization of the holy words was not easy, only a handful managed it every generation. He was one of the few, which, along with his devotion, helped his rise in the ranks to his current position.
The High Ambassador tapped on her slate a few times. "Could you recite Sions 99:4?"
The Grand Deacon did so, " 'And to the heavens we went and from the heavens we came down. From waste and death, we created the world.' " He nodded to himself in satisfaction. He still got it.
"And now Sions 100:2-3?"
" 'New life replaced the old. New life flowed from the heavens. A world brand new.' " Where was she going with this?
The High Ambassador tapped her slate a few more times. "And how about Sauris 12:44?"
" 'And they gathered and proclaimed that the heavens were open and to go forth and multiply.' " The Grand Deacon was shaking his head as he recited the chapter and verse. The High Ambassador was clearly also reading the lines on her tablet instead of attempting to memorize them herself. Gone were the days when people wanted, even desired, to uphold tradition.
Has it been really fifty years since he passed his tests? So much had changed since then.
All the nations of the Board claimed that the technological advancements of the past few decades were just to catch up with the Monotheists of the southern continent, who enjoyed a standard of living far beyond that of the rest of the world.
*But we took it a step too far*, thought the Grand Deacon. *Daring to pierce the heavens of the gods. Even the Monotheists haven't attempted that.*
"Thank you, Grand Deacon," said the High Ambassador.
"What was all this in aid of?" asked the Deputy Chairholder. A heretic from west of the Heartlands. Despite his disdain for the man's beliefs, he found himself agreeing aloud along with other members of the Board with their collective need to know.
"First of all it is probably not really a secret that I am a non-believer like the esteemed Chairholder here."
The Grand Deacon nodded at that. *I thought so*.
"What you are probably unaware is that I first talked to the various consulates of the Monotheist nations before attending this meeting. Asked them about their beliefs."
Some of the Board members looked decidedly uncomfortable. The Grand Deacon for his part just leaned forward. He wasn't worried about a non-believer suddenly converting just because she read their Kerran or Torfah or Bye-bal or whatever they called their false scriptures. He was more interested to hear what she had to say.
"Did you know that they believe humanity is from another world? I think they're right."
The room exploded in shouts of outrage. No one, orthodox, heretics, non-believers, anyone of the Board of Nations would believe such nonsense. The Grand Deacon himself felt the burn of outrage, but found it quickly snuff out. *Why did she want me to recite those particular passages*?
The Grand Deacon searched his memories, rifling through his knowledge of the true scriptures. The Books of Sions, Sauris, Maht, Lengue. A source of comfort for his soul and a source of guidance for humanity. But now...
He realized that his act of memorization all those years ago had an unintended consequence. He knew every chapter and verse. But he never actually looked at it as a whole. He did so now.
"By the gods," he murmured through the pandemonium. The Chairholder was banging his mallet demanding quiet. The Grand Deacon stood up.
"Please sit down, Grand Deacon. We'll have time for your denunciations later," rapped out the Chairholder still banging his gavel.
"They're right!" The Grand Deacon's shout brought quiet where the gavel did not. "It was all there, the whole time." He couldn't really fathom what he was saying. This is going to cause schisms and debates and unrest for years to come. Still he pressed forward. The one thing the scripture emphasized was a strict adherence to the truth, no matter what.
"Are you also saying that the Monotheist's worship of a singular god is correct as well?" demanded the Deputy Chairholder.
"Don't be facetious, sir," replied the Grand Deacon coldly. "We are speaking of the truth of our origins."
"You just proclaimed, not just moments ago, that the gods created us..."
"I was wrong." *I have been wrong for a long time. Do I have enough time to make up for it?*
The meeting broke up soon after that, recessed until the next morning. Some members wandering off arguing, others shutting down their remote viewing screens. The High Ambassador wandered up to the Grand Deacon. She asked just one question.
"Why did you support me?"
The Grand Deacon shrugged. "I read through scriptures and realized the thrust of your argument and found you were correct in your assessment." He held up a finger. "This does not mean that the gods did not exist. Just that we have an imperfect view of their nature."
The High Ambassador smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. "Read through scripture? I just saw you sitting there for a full minute before you stood and said something."
The High Deacon tapped his head. "Sometimes better than a slate, eh?"
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more at r/DaviparsWrites
| 2022-11-04T06:48:04 | 2022-11-04T06:31:17 | 295 | 172 |
[WP] You travel to the future to find that Hitler is on trial, and his disappearance was in fact a future super police operation. The trial is public.
You travel via a time machine. Hitlers defence is insanity caused by medication.
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Patricia sat down eagerly in front of the shining rectangle that displayed the court proceedings. She grabbed another slice of vitamin pizza as the defendant was escorted to his seat. Not one moment later, there was a flash of light, and Hitler vanished, leaving only a smoking, charred circle where his chair was.
"What happened?!" Patricia asked, turning to her future friend Giana who had so graciously offered to host the trial party at her house.
Giana's brow furrowed as she gritted her teeth. "Damn it all. The future future super police got to him first."
|
I gripped the bar in front of me, uncertain about where to go from my current position. Cameras flashed obnoxiously from the Press Gallery opposite, and people surrounding me variously read the program in front of them, tapped holographic handheld devices or stared blankly into space, waiting.
I found it curious that none of them, however they chose to waste their time currently, found the fact that the most evil man ever to exist in recorded history sat nonchalantly at the mahogany desk below.
I should probably explain my position at this point. I'm sure that all of, one way or another, have found out about the invention of the time machine. I should also probably mention that I was one of the "Beta Testers". This was my beta test. I couldn't possibly have had the audacity to imagine that what I would see could be this monumental.
But anyway, as I implied before, Hitler sat before me, unaware of my intent stare on his slicked back hair. From what I could gather from non-suspicious questioning, Hitler had been taken right after Eva Braun pulled her trigger, and just before Hitler was about to pull his. Right now though, he was flanked by a pair of armed guards, each holding some sort of futuristic device that I couldn't hope to decipher the use or function of.
As I pondered these things, and by what method I could descend the stairs and kill Hitler before anyone else reacted, the judge entered from an erstwhile unseen door. I don't pretend to understand how a court proceeds, or what the words that were said meant. You can click [here to get a full transcript of the proceedings.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ)
Hitler climbed up to the witness stand. The jurors glared at him as he moved slowly to his seat. He audibly sighed. He knew the inevitable would come.
A disheveled man strode towards Hitler, doing his best to exert an aura of confidence, and failing miserably. This was obviously the defence lawyer.
"Adolf Hitler?" he questioned.
"Ja-yes," Hitler murmured, unconsciously using German but catching himself in time. I should add, it was definitely convenient of me to arrive in a country that spoke English. You could argue that it is too convenient, but in what cases do languages spoken by so many people die in a hundred years? Yes, some words were new and unfamiliar. What is a "Dumbbullion" or a "Surnjin"? I don't know. But it didn't matter. Meaning gets its way across.
"The events which you have been charged happen over a number of years. Twelve, to be precise. Do you deny that they in fact took place?"
"No. I do not."
"What defence do you have to your actions?"
"Insanity. Caused by medication."
"Expand on this, please."
"For many years I had suffered from..." Hitler's voice slowed to a halt.
"Yes?"
"Syphilis. I suffered from syphilis. I was prescribed for many years that I should take a concoction made of mercury to cure it. I tried for all my adult life. I have recently been informed that this could be the reason for what I did. However, I have no recollection of these events, only vague feelings of making decisions."
"When did you take these pills? At what points during the day?" The defence lawyer prompted.
"Every time before making important decisions. My maid would remind me because I would always forget and she would always meet with me before I went to visit the fellow leaders of Germany."
The trial wore on. More questions were asked. My initial adrenaline rush faded, cold beads of sweat no longer coursed down my back, tickling my skin. I became bored with the proceedings. Witnesses were called. Mostly Jews, mostly sixty plus years old, transported the same way as Hitler, promised to be returned safe and sound.
The jury's hatred was tangible. What they assumed was justice was calling to them. But it was obvious it wasn't justice, it was and could only ever be hateful vengeance. Hitler could never, ever receive a fair trial. He knew this. The defence lawyer knew this. The judge knew this. everyone in the court knew this. And they proceeded anyway. It would have been better for Hitler if they had allowed him to die. But they had to "Bring him to justice". Not let him "End things on his own terms". He ends up dead either way.
End dead he became. The jury filed out, and several minutes later filed back in. Hitler's head was buried in his hands. His lawyer vaguely patted his back.
"Guilty," came the verdict. No other verdict would ever have been given.
Hitler was lead out. Public executions had been illegal in every country in the world, apparently. An exception had obviously been made for Hitler.
An iron chair was fastened on a large wooden platform, which Hitler was fastened to. A small jerk, an audible moan, and he was dead.
I know some of you reading will get a lot of satisfaction from reading this. Hitler was executed! The world is better! But it didn't end as some of you would have hoped. He had a painless death. He would otherwise have had his brains blown out, painfully lingering on the moment of death. He might have missed a little, and bleed to death. But no, a wave of pure death ended him instantly. Not to over use the cliche, but, he died, not with a bang, but with a whimper.
-------------------------------
Edit: typo
| 2014-06-07T11:37:51 | 2014-06-07T11:00:10 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out.
|
"Guys, it's not that complicated," I say to the increasingly frustrated group of scientists, "I just jump... and then I jump again."
Most of them stare at me open-mouthed, one flings his hands up into the air and storms out of the test room.
"Okay, but... what does it feel like when you jump the second time?" presses a particularly intrepid scientist, "Does it feel like you're kicking off from ultra-dense air? Is it like a floating sensation?"
"Well, " I start, "have you ever jumped before?" They stare at me, I can see the impatience tightening it's grip. A few of them nod tentatively. "It feels just like that, but if you did it again."
One of them snaps. "YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU! FUCK THIS. FUCK THIS JOB. FUCK ALL OF IT STRAIGHT TO FUCKING HELL." She storms out, drooling and flipping us off as she does.
"Okay..." sighs another scientist, massaging his temples in frustration and exhaustion, "let's pick this up tomorrow."
"Whatever," I shrug.
I don't get what their problem is. It's not that hard. You just jump, and then jump again.
|
They've been studying me for weeks now. I don't think they'll ever figure it out. Obstacles are nothing to me anymore. But maybe they'll turn me loose soon.
In a section of Arizona where the heat is upon you in seconds before the sun rises there's a facility hidden within the arid desert. What looks like a small ranch bungalow is the entrance to the facility know as RocketJump Corporation. You would probably know them on YouTube as a gaming and film community Channel. Celebrities such as Freddie Wong and their partnership with Roosterteeth would do well to disguise the fact that they have a facility dedicated to outfitting the latest super soldiers with game changing tactics.
That's where I come in. Scientists have been trying to uncover the secret to my double jump. As if it will better mankind. I'm not dumb. I know they only want to use it for war and whatever else have you, that is if they figure it out. I only figured it out about a month ago while making parkour videos with my friends.
"Don, you really think you can make this jump? It's terribly long, not to mention the lead up destroys any momentum you might need." He filmed a 30 ft wide span between two parking garages that overlooked an alleyway below.
From research I know the record for a standing long jump was 11-12 ft and the record for running long jump was 29 ft. I am an average build with about 150lbs on me at any given time and normally there would be no way for me to make this jump but I would try with the best of my ability.
"Just you watch, Merc, I've got this in the bag and afterward it's going viral."
"Yeah, even after that YouTube glitch we will be needing more subs bro." He got into position and released the drone after setting up a wide angle camera to get the gap shot. "If you don't make this I'll probably put it on LiveLeak and still get subs probably. Who do you want your stuff to go to? Wait, did you even make a Will?"
"Won't need one. Tell me when you're ready." I was on the far end of the lot getting pumped up. There were multiple cars, barricades, and scaffolding leading up to my inevitable jump. I would bound over the first two cars, plant a foot on one of the barricades and hop up to grab a bar of scaffolding and climb up. I'd then keep climbing to the top where I'd be able to flip down to the roof of the elevator room and front flip onto another scaffolding plank. Run down and slide over a car hood then full sprint, step up the ledge and jump. From there it was only gravity and luck that would keep me alive until I either hit the ledge and held on or rolled onto the roof of the other garage.
Something in me knew I wasn't going to make it and I wasn't trying to end up on LiveLeak. I was almost half way when I knew I would most likely die any moment now. I remembered a lot from video games about double jumping and had faith in myself. Before I knew it I rolled to safety on the rooftop of the other garage. I looked back at Merc who was just standing there in awe with the drone controller in his hands and his jaw practically on the floor.
"I told you I'd make it!" I felt as proud as ever. He flagged me over and I traversed my way back to the garage.
"Dude, do you even know what you just did?" He was so excited at this point, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the camera that shot the wide gap.
"Yeah, I made it, this is so going Viral!"
"No dude, you didn't see what I saw."
"What do you mean? Did you not get the shot? Did you leave the fucking lens on again!" I felt a rage build up not knowing what to expect.
"Bro, shut the fuck up and look at the footy! You won't believe this."
Then I saw it. I was leaping front he gap and midway it looked as if I double jumped and landed on the other garage. Even I was stunned. I looked at Merc.
"How the fuck did you do that man?"
"I...I don't know I just...I believed I could double jump I just... Didn't know I actually did it." there was a visible halo fo air around my feet during the transition that helped me across the gap.
"Comn dude, quite fucking around, what did you do? Install rocket shoes for this? Ain't no one gonna believe this!"
"We've gotta edit this pronto!"
That night went spent around 8 hours editting the footage to look as fluid as possible. I knew that no one would believe this so I thought maybe it'd become hella viral for a little while then die out from the lack of oxygen it wouldn't get from people. To my surprise though, we uploaded it that same night and by the next day we had about 100,000 views in just the hour of it being uploaded. And 10 times as many by the morning.
I had went to work thinking everything was fine and the views would take care of themselves. I work in a small cafe where nothing ever happens cooking and delivering food to the customers. I was about done delivering food to some customers table when Freddie Wong from RocketJump walks in. Next thing I know I'm strapped up to a chair in a white room with scientists poking and prodding me. I got a cot to sleep on in a room that's practically a plexiglass jail cell for observation. I find it pretty fucked up really, but I know the video is getting all of its much deserved views. Merc is probably wondering what's going on though but then again, he's probably lighting up trying to figure out what to do next.
Now is when I plan my escape. They've run tests and put me through obstacle course after obstacle course. Checked my IQ and the rest of those nine yards. It would probably be a while til I got out of here but I'm in no rush at the moment.
...To Be Continued --->
| 2017-02-11T09:05:42 | 2017-02-11T08:30:49 | 144 | 60 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
|
“Reply yes if you can survive the last video-game you played. If you survive without dying you will be awarded all you win in game.”
“Who texts this at 2:00am in the morning on a Friday night?,” I drunkingly mumbled.
Chuckling, I reminisce in the old days of my video-gaming childhood. I remember playing hours of creative Minecraft. Flying. Building castles. Man, that was so much fun and everything I did in it was fun.
I think, well, whatever type of weird spam fad this is, might as well see where it goes.
It probably took me 2 minutes to type it, “yea...” “yed”...
“Yes.”
I open my eyes and see dust. I have a pistol in my hand. Dread fills my soul as I look to my left and right, I’m surrounded by people all in riot gear. What did I get myself into?
|
The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go."
| 2020-02-16T18:41:30 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 194 | 12 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
|
"well that's really not good"
I wake up to see the nightmarish visage of wehrner von kerman standing over me
"Eh HAAAHHH" he says in a horrifically nasal voice that i somehow understand.
in order to leave, i have to "beat" the game, well that's gonna be a little bit of a bitch seeing as kerbal space program has no clear end.
as he guides me out of the R&D center where i plopped out of a portal, i see the buildings are all level one and i'm relieved more than anything
the game's in career mode.
this means i have a clear, easy to reach objective. only trouble is jeb and val are out somewhere doing god knows what and bob and bill are out on vacation, so that leaves me alone to pilot these things that wehrner and i design.
this is not how i wanted to spend spring break, but hey at least i get to go to space.
|
The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go."
| 2020-02-16T23:02:08 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 25 | 12 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
|
You look down it your phone, and upon it is a notification, "Huh, weird email. who even uses yahoo mail anymore?" you say to yourself.
As you look at the text, you realize that the background is a mosaic of moving gears, flashing lights, and bubbling tubes.
You are given a choice, either be transported into the game that you last played, with the reward being that you are allowed to keep everything that you achieve or create, or never to be given the option again.
Being the fairly curious persion you are, you accept. Moments after you tap the button, you notice that your surroundings are becoming blurry and almost oily in consistancy. You succumb to the nausea that is produced by this, and when you come to, you find yourself in a barren land wearing nothing but a lightly padded suit and equipped with only a pickaxe and a pistol.
You only have one clear thought on your mind...
#***the factory must grow...***
|
The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go."
| 2020-02-16T23:15:41 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 22 | 12 |
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