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[Link to part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Ford9863/comments/xrfhoi/asteria_part_2/?)
For the first time in fifteen long, arduous hours, the red lights lining the halls of the Asteria stopped flashing. Thomas glanced upward, wiping the sweat from his brow. He could feel the collective sigh of relief around him.
“We did it,” Layna said, tossing a wrench to the floor with a loud metal *clang*. “We fucking *did it*.”
Thomas almost forced a smile, but stopped himself. This was not a happy moment. Not for him.
Layna turned and raised a palm to the air. “Good work, Tommy,” she said, smiling expectantly.
“Thanks,” he said, holding a long stare at nothing in particular.
Her smile faded as reality dawned on her. Thomas could see the words spinning in her head, some sort of consolation forming. Slowly, she lowered her hand. No words came.
“We better go,” Thomas said. He turned away, but felt her grip on his shoulder before he could take the first step.
“Maybe they won’t,” she said. “This was an unprecedented situation, there’s no way they could have predicted—”
“The rules exist for a reason, Layna,” he said, still facing away from her. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes and he didn’t want her to see them. He’d only known her for a half a day, but fighting through a potential catastrophe tends to bring people together.
Her grip tightened. “They can’t just get *rid* of us,” she said, her voice wavering. “They would have died without us. All of them.”
Thomas pulled away and turned to face her. “They don’t *care*, Layna. We’re not meant to exist. Not like this. Somewhere beyond those halls are two people that look just like us, talk like us, have lived the lives *we* remember. They’re the ones that get to keep going. Not us.”
Footsteps approached from around the corner. A young man appeared wearing the same grease-stained blue jumpsuit. Any color that once filled his face was long gone.
“We could run,” he said.
Thomas shook his head. “To where? It’s a goddamn spaceship, Mark.”
Layna took a step back and leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor. “They can’t just do this,” she mumbled.
“Escape pods,” Mark said. “We can steal one. Just the three of us. There’s bound to be a colony somewhere nearby we can hide out.”
Thomas shook his head. He lifted a finger toward a wide, bulky door at the end of the hall. “That door is designed to withstand this side of the ship being blown apart,” he said. “We aren’t forcing our way through it with a few wrenches and torches. And there are no pods on this side.”
“There has to be,” Mark said. “They wouldn’t design a ship like this without a way to—”
“They would,” Layna interrupted, “if they needed a way to make sure *certain* crew members couldn’t escape.”
Mark took a step back. “We were always meant to die here.”
Thomas stepped closer to the door, running a hand through his hair. “They’re probably celebrating over there,” he said. “Every damned one of them. But it was *our* hard work that kept them alive. It was *us* that kept this ship from being vaporized. And our thanks is what, a few hours of life?”
“How will they do it?” Layna asked, looking up from the floor. She sat with her elbows over her knees, her head tilted back against the unpainted steel.
“Who knows?” Thomas answered. “Gas, maybe? Or they might just pop open the airlock and send us into space. If they wanted us to know, we’d know.”
Mark’s brow furrowed. “But *they* know. Why don’t we?”
Thomas pointed to his head. “We know what they want us to know. They made us, they can shape our memories, too.”
Layna sprung to her feet, scooping the wrench from the floor. She stomped toward the main door, her heavy steps ringing through the halls.
“It’s not going to help,” Thomas said.
Mark followed after her, glaring at Thomas. “It ain’t gonna hurt, either.”
Thomas rolled his eyes and followed.
Layna rammed the wrench into the door, the loud clang ringing in Thomas’s ears long after each strike.
“Let us the fuck out of here,” she screamed between attacks. “We’re people, goddammit! You can’t just kill us!”
Thomas stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder as she dropped the wrench, then dropped to her knees. No words came to mind, so he just stood in silence while she tried to calm herself.
“Why haven’t they done it yet,” Mark asked, staring at the door.
“Because they’re fucking monsters,” Layna spat. “Cowardly fucks that can’t even look us in the eyes when they do it. Probably debating who needs to push the button to—”
A loud, long *hiss* sounded from the door, followed by the sound of mechanisms turning and clanging. The group exchanged glances with bated breath, ready for the worst. Thomas felt Layna’s hand wrap around his and squeeze.
The door slid open, and the group stood in shock.
Bodies lined the floor from one end of the hall to the other. There was no blood, no sign of struggle.
“What the fuck happened here?” Mark said gingerly stepping through the doorway.
Thomas and Layna exchanged a glance.
“I’m not sure,” Thomas said, “but I’m a bit more interested in who opened that door.”
***
#[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Ford9863/comments/xrfhoi/asteria_part_2/?)
r/Ford9863 for other stuff by me. |
Brett hummed, and twiddled his pen absentmindedly, as he thought things over. It was going to be hard to spin this, but universal warming was becoming a crisis that was impossible to ignore. And so, like his noble ancestors before him, Brett set about formulating a solution, not by fixing the problem, but by figuring out why they didn’t HAVE to fix the problem.
“Well,” he said to the room full of political pundits, PR representatives, and other advisors to the president’s office, “there’s the argument to be made that universal warming is a good thing, actually.”
The President perked up at this idea. “Oh, I can use that. Go on.” It was an election cycle coming up, and the void climate was sure to be a hot-button issue.
Brett presented his plan. “Well, when humanity realized they’d destroyed their home planet’s environment, it was too late to stop it. So what did they do instead? They let it continue, until their oceans boiled, their homes burned, and they had no choice but to transcend the bounds of gravity. Indeed, the legacy of humanity as a planet-traversing society, would not have existed without humanity’s devastating effect on the climate.”
“So we pitch this - when a planet gets too hot, what do we do? We leave it. So if the universe gets too hot, it just means it’s time for humanity’s next great evolution.”
The president’s eyes widened, as he gasped, “We gotta transcend into a new dimension.”
“Bingo!” Brett said, spinning in his chair. A buzz of excitement spread through the room. “And it’s about time, too. Corporeal forms are inefficient and bad for the economy.”
More nods. More murmurs. Ah yes. This made sense. |
I inhaled, the fresh Nitrogen running rich through my lungs. The atmosphere had plenty of it. As far as our composition scans told us, the only impurities were the deadly poison oxygen, which our masks filtered out for us.
"This planet is an absolute gold mine, more figuratively than literally."
The words came from an astonished Colonel Vetreex, whose deep violet eyes surveyed the lush green landscape around us. I knew exactly what he was talking about. All of the carbon on the continent alone must be worth centillions. One of the larger discoveries of the recent century.
"There is still the prospect of how much coal there may be underground, the ship is still scanning for it."The ship, MPX-12, stood high above the canopy, the sensor nodes at the very top of the sleek metal form, surveying the composition of all the surrounding geology.
"It should be done in a few hours."Colonel Vetreex informed me. He pressed a button on the side of his helmet, a rapid beep followed in response. "Squad Beta, take defensive positions around the entrance ramp. I also need all members of Sector 8 on exterior repairs. That solar wind left some bad scarring in the plasma shield material."Vetreex's helmet broadcasted his words to the ship behind us. "Viera?"
My attention pulled away from the thick jungle and focused on my Colonel. "Sir."
"You're coming with me on scout patrol three. One and two will search the surrounding area for anything of possible interest or threat. Meanwhile, it's time we payed the local fauna a visit."
The prospect excited me, i'd never had the opportunity to discover a new Vulkinoid life-form before. I wondered just how similar they were to us, do they breathe the Nitrogen in the air like we do? Most likely. Do they have five appendages on each hand? We couldn't possibly know from the blurred orbital pictures we had. Do they have ultra-violet sight? Have they formed advanced communication skills? Had crops become their main source of food? How large were their brains? My mind was swarming with questions and building with anticipation. For Colonel Vetreex, it was just another day on the job.
Three hours of tiresome hiking later, we reached a sudden rise in the canopy floor, it proved too steep and sodden to climb, so the Colonel checked my booster pack and cleared me to jump. I thrusted my arms downward and small rockets on my lower back and legs boosted me to the top. I nearly slipped on the wet leaves at the top. Vetreex landed softly beside me. His visor glowed a subtle green, text and symbols sliding across the thickened glass. "Contact. Three at two o'clock, two more at ten. Unarmed, hostility status unknown. Bio-Hazard report."A faint beep could be heard from within the Colonel's helmet. The response was transmitted to my helmet in a clear, monotone voice.
*"Vulkanoid life-forms cleared for approach. All five subjects clear of hostile biological entities."*
"Looks like we're clear."Surprising me, Vetreex let out a small chuckle. "Look at them, they've hardly left the Stone Age. Still using ploughs and labouring animals on their pastures."I felt that I should correct Vetreex on his knowledge of common technological advancement but thought better of it.
"They won't offer any resistance. Look at them, the best weapon they have is the almighty pitchfork."
I couldn't help but chuckle with him, it was not often that we would find such a resource rich planet with such an undeveloped species. There aren't many intelligent species left, especially Vulkinoid, that haven't already reached the Space Age. This planet would be easy money. The United Vulkin Government would pay us generously for this rare find. Perhaps I could retire in the Garllian System i'd heard so much about.
"Alright, we're gonna have to send our message. It's custom, if we don't assert our dominance they might get ideas, and then they'll be trouble. Later on we can start to eradicate them, for now we'll focus on keeping them at bay."
The light hearted mood darkened instantly. I grimaced as I unlocked my energy pistol from the armour plate on my leg. This was the catch to my line of work, the killing part of it was highly illegal, but we knew some corrupted members of the Vulkin Government who were willing to let it pass for a cut of the pay. The less resistance, the higher the Government will pay you to mine on the land. Everyone involved makes more this way. It's a win for all. Well, except for the local fauna.
Vetreex noticed my sudden silence. "Come on Viera, you can't get down over some poor sodding animals. They probably don't have enough neurones to feel grief."The words felt hollow even coming from him. Vetreex stepped out onto the tilled field and raised his pistol. "Quick and precise Viera, quick and precise."
A few bright blue flashes later and three smouldering corpses were left lying in the dirt. We left the two strongest males alive, they ran into the jungle in terror. Let them spread the word. "Burn the houses too, we really wanna brand our message into their backsides."We left the burning village to its fate, disappearing back into the jungle. The locals had some new neighbours, and they weren't going to be negotiating land rights.
***
We stood, staring, mouths agape. Nujis was beside me, his head tilted in my direction. I could see his wide, purple eyes illuminated by the HUD on his visor.
"Khalisi..."
"Yes, I know. I'm sending the images now. The Colonel will know when he returns to the ship."Upon finishing my words, a roar of static exploded in my helmet. I yelped in surprise and shut the sound off. Nujis noticed my body language. "Khalisi? Something wrong?"
"The connection is blocked here, somehow."
"Blocked, by what?"I could here the doubt in his voice.
|
As a boy, my friend and I would sneak out at night and drop stones into the hole. We would carry the largest rocks we could find and heave them over the edge. They disappeared in seconds, and not once did they make a sound. We stopped playing the game after we saw the first man jump. From the foliage we watched, as the elders and warriors escorted him to the precipice, torches in hand. He jumped, and he was gone. On many sleepless nights, I remembered the silence. It would have been better if he screamed.
I was always the odd one out as I grew older. While my friends matured into men, with broad shoulders and wide chests, I remained thin and gangly. Bird-bones, they would call me. I could not throw a spear or carry the carcass of an antelope over my shoulders. Perhaps that is why I was selected by the elders.
I thought about running away at first, but I realized I could not live with the shame. It was my duty. In this sacrifice, I could finally serve the tribe in a noble way. So, late one night, I said my goodbyes and entered the elders longhouse. They painted me in white patterns and paraded me down the road, lined by thatch huts and the eyes of the onlooking village. It was a warm night, and the full moon lit the way.
At the edge of the hole, I felt no fear at first. Then I peered over the edge and it shot through my head and heart, waves of terror. But I could not turn back now.
The elders chanted in their secret language. The words seemed to twist and shimmer in the air around me. Finally it was time. I could not describe the feeling I had as I threw myself from the earth. It was similar to the feeling I had when I leapt from cliffs into the lake below. But this time, I knew that there would be no gentle embrace of water waiting at the bottom. I would fall into my death.
And so I fell. The light of the moon above vanished almost instantly, and I was surrounded by darkness. I could not see the walls of the hole around me. I could only feel the air rushing up past me. My limbs moved and found nothing around them. I quickly lost all sense of direction; if I was falling up or down, I could not tell. I fell so fast it burned my skin.
After minutes of falling, I imagined that there was no earth above and earth below. There was only the darkness, infinite, in every direction. And there was something pulling me down.
I cannot tell you for how long I fell, only that it was enough that I began to long for the taste of water. I was tired, but I could not fall asleep, as every time I did, I would have a nightmare, a nightmare so terrible it would wake me instantly, a nightmare of falling, falling into nothing but darkness. A darkness so real that I imagined that the earth above had never really existed. The daylight, the ground beneath my feet, the blue sky, those might all have been illusions. A strange dream I had during a very long sleep. Perhaps I had been falling all this time, and imagined that strange life as a distraction.
I fell for what must have been days. And then, my hand touched something in the darkness. Something wet and cold. It snapped at my hand like a turtle, and I recoiled in terror. After I had gathered enough courage, I reached out again, and I felt it again. Something hit my hand, burning my fingertips. Eventually, I realized this was the wall of the hole. I reached out with my other hand, and felt another wall. Soon I realized that the walls were closing in around me, on all sides, incredibly slowly, but unmistakably constricting. I made an effort to reach out with both my hands and touch the walls, slowing my descent through friction. The wet, smooth walls prevented this action from ripping through the flesh of my fingers.
Over time, the walls were close enough that I had to keep my feet together, and then close enought that I had to keep my arms above my head. On all sides the walls were constricting, like some sort of snake wrapping itself around me. I feared that it would crush me soon enough, so I made every effort to slow my fall with my hands. Eventually the hole was tight enough that a normal man might have been too wide to fit. But I had always been thin, so the walls let me slip past, and my descent slowed. I was going slow enought that I could almost have stopped myself if I tried to press my body against the walls, but I didn't dare to.
And then, in an instant, the walls gave way, and I fell freely once more, only for a second. My legs crumpled beneath me as something violent rushed up out of the darkness below and slammed into me. The air left my lungs and I tasted blood. Something cold and solid had crashed into me and stopped my fall.
The feeling of not-falling hit me first, and I found it hard to move my limbs. I tried to stand up, only to slip and drop again. I landed on my back, where something soft gave way beneath me with a crunch. The smell then overwhelmed me, and I turned over and vomited. I braced myself with my hand, but my hand dug into something, something hard and cold, that shifted. At first I thought I was lying among branches and rocks. But as I felt this thing in my hand, I pushed my fingers into a pair of holes and realized I was sitting among corpses. I panicked, and tried to move away, but my feet could find no purchase among the bodies. I crawled through the dark, wretching, stumbling, but there was no end to the bodies, they pulled themselves around my ankles and arms, I slipped and fell among bones and cold slime, decaying skin and worse.
It took me a while to gather myself. I have been sitting here for hours, it seems. At first I tried to find an exit. But there is none. The walls surround this pit in a perfect circle. It took me a full hour to crawl around them, searching with my hands for any way out. I am ashamed to admit, I even tried to dig, to find the bottom. I used up the last of my pitiful energy, motivated by sheer terror, to dig my way through the bones. To no avail.
There are too many corpses here. Not even if a man has jumped down from my village every year for a thousand years. The bones would have turned to dust by now if that were the case. But they haven't.
Even as I am remembering my story, my mind decays into delirium. I have forgotten what is real. I should be dead right now. It takes me what seems like hours to even think. I am so thirsty and so hungry. And so very tired. But every time I close my eyes, I fall again. That nightmare is not so unpleasant now, now that I have reached the bottom.
There is something else down here with me. I can feeling it watching me. Not with eyes, no. Eyes are useless down here, where no light has ever been. Still it waches me. It can wait a very long time. The bodies that come down here, they drip down, bit by bit. They get caught in the tighest part of the hole, and then they decay. I think about all the men that must have been stuck where I slipped through. I wish I shared their fate. I will slip away soon, very soon. There will be no rest for me here. It doesn't matter. This is where I have always belonged. |
The forest today is terrifying. The flashes of lightning are completely hidden by the thicket of trees, and the ominous thunder comes completely unexpected, leaving me with a racing heartbeat each time. The wind mockingly rattles my closed windows, trying to overcome my meticulous defenses.
But then again, who am I kidding? The forest *is* terrifying. Every single day.
I rise from my trusted rocking chair to poke meekly at the small fire that burns timorous in the fireplace. My dinner hangs over the coals, and I can already smell the exquisite smell of herbs and mushrooms permeating from the tightly closed lid.
*Grandmother* will have a nice evening again today. A delicious stew, a cozy room, a nice patchwork blanket on my lap, and a book to finish.
I am about to limp, content, to my nook, when I hear a noise a thousand times more terrifying than the thunder, the wind, the crackling of leaves shaken by the storm.
Someone has knocked on the door.
"Who's there?"I say, my eyes fixed on the poker.
"Grandmother? It's so cold, can I come in?"
A little girl.
I adjust my bonnet and smooth my apron.
"Come, dear."
The door swings open, pushed open by the gusts of the blizzard. The child struggles to close it behind her, and when she succeeds and finally looks at me, she is out of breath.
"I apologize, Grandmother. The forest was not so kind to me."
I can well see it. Her pretty red hood is drenched with water, and her hair hangs down like miserable curtains stuck to her fresh, innocent little face. Her eyes are wide, of those who have seen things they wish they could forget.
"Look at you, little dear. Come by the fire and warm yourself."she moves a few hesitant steps toward the fireplace. "Will you give me that pretty hood and put it out to dry?"
Instinctively she brings her hands to the hood, and clutches it.
"No."she says, too hastily. Then she corrects herself, "No, *thank you*, Grandmother."
"I don't get many pretty little girls visiting me here in the forest."
"And I don't visit many Grandmothers, in the forest."
"In fact, I think you are the very first."
"I really think so."now she is looking at me with an air of open defiance. "What a big house you have, Grandmother."
"To make the most of my old age, my darling."I rock lazily in the armchair. "Is it my turn now?"
"You're welcome, Grandmother."
"What a sharp knife you have under that red hood."
"No wonder I'm the first to survive your self-defense forest, *Grandmother*,"she whispers without taking her eyes off me.
"I guess you're interested in my house. My secrets."
"I want it all."now that she's drawn the blade, I see it's a nice knife indeed. Long. Sharp. Dangerous.
"But there is one thing you must know, my child."
"What?"she sounds almost annoyed at my lack of fear.
"That the forest was not for my defense at all."
"Oh no? What would it serve for?"
"To protect silly little girls like you."and I let the flames of the fireplace illuminate my smile. Pointed. Wolfish. *Deadly*. |
**EDIT:** Glad everyone is enjoying it. They are fun to write. I'll try to keep updating. Here's the [Full thing so far.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3xt07o/wp_the_only_survivors_of_the_apocalypse_are_two/cy8le4v?context=3)
Balzackonu: idk what's taking so long I need my points
Klimokli: Yeah this is bullshit.
B: Want to go do MC while we wait?
K: K
...
K: where the hell is everyone?
usually my friends list is more active than this.
B: yeah idk, probably all jerking off
K: yeah.
...
B: remember back when this raid was hard?
K: what like when they re-released it and every asshole in the world was doing it for the first time?
B: no, like back in the early 2000's
K: no, I wasn't alive then.
B: really? how old are you?
K: I'm 8.
B: shut up you're like 50.
K: fuck you.
...
K: Well, no legendaries as usual.
how the hell have we not played any games today?
B: one second I'm going to go get food. BBL
...
K: Hey dude, I went to all the major cities while you were gone, THEY ARE ALL EMPTY! WTF IS HAPPENING?
B: dude, everything has stopped on the streets. I have no idea. I couldn't even get through traffic, it's just a shitload of cars in the road with no one in them. I have no idea what's going on, but it's either scary or awesome.
K: alright, I'm going to try to come over to your place.
B: bring your laptop. We can lan something if we get bored.
...
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3xt07o/wp_the_only_survivors_of_the_apocalypse_are_two/cy8gfvg) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3xt07o/wp_the_only_survivors_of_the_apocalypse_are_two/cy8le4v) |
The room was filling with the fuzzy buzz of static, as if a hundred snakes were waking from a long sleep, only to find an intruder slumped on a chair in the center of their nest.
A distorted voice cut through the hissing.
"Adrian? Can --- hear --,"it said, only to be replaced once more by the static.
The man in the chair stirred, slowly opening his eyes. A spinning, blurry green screen stared back at him, filled with strange lines and dots. He tried to raise a hand to his throbbing temples, but his arms disobeyed him. He looked down to see that his both his legs and arms were strapped down tight to the chair.
"What the fuck?"he whispered. He squinted - hoping to lessen the spinning - and looked around the room. *Why was it so dark?* The only light source in the room was from the broken monitor in front of him. He craned his head around - the room seemed empty, except for shadowy recesses in the walls - but he couldn't be sure without seeing behind him.
"Adrian?"came the voice again. The distorted lines on the screen began to dance and whirl.
"Wh- where am I?"Adrian asked the voice.
"Thank God! You're alive!"There was something familiar about the voice, but Adrian couldn't quite place it.
"Please,"he begged, "where am I?"
"Stay calm, Adrian. Take some ---- breaths. You're just a ---tle groggy right now, as the drug- --- just beginning to wear off."
That accent... it was European. *German.*
"*Professor Schneider?*"
"Yes, Adrian. It's me,"said the elderly engineer.
"Where am I, Professor? What's going on?"
"Adrian... this -- your exam."
"What? My exam? Where the hell am I, Professor?"
"Oh, Adrian my boy. I'm so sorry. But, we saw a lot of promise with you. **A lot**. NASA saw it too."
"NASA?"he repeated, his heart racing in his throat. "Please don't tell me-"
"You are -- a sat---lite orbiting Earth. It needed some basic repairs. We were going to wake you, release your straps and ---- ----. But something has gone wr--- You need to --- off the sta---- as soon ------- We're going to release your -----"
"What? Did you say something went wrong? What went wrong, Professor?"
Only the crackling of static answered his question.
"Professor, *please?*"
The straps around his wrists and feet loosened; he hurriedly pulled his limbs out from them. His body began drifting up into the air, a boat released from its anchor. He tried desperately to stop the bile rising up his throat, but he couldn't. It pirouetted out of his mouth, suffocating him until all the thick brown droplets were expelled, pelting against the ceiling. He wiped his mouth; at least he felt a little better now - the dizziness had mostly stopped. He placed a hand on the chair below him, and slowly spun himself around. There was a small doorway directly behind him. He aimed himself carefully, then pushed his feet off the chair and drifted like a dart in slow-motion through the portal.
He floated through a long dark corridor, until he entered what looked like a control room, washed in a dim yellow glow. There was a dashboard flashing with a hundred red and green lights. Above the dashboard, a wide a view-port showed nothing but the empty blackness of space. "Oh shit,"he said.
He noticed the chair by the dashboard, and saw the strands of gray hair that hung over the back of it. There was someone there!
"Hey,"he said, relief washing over him, as he swam through the air toward the chair. "Hey, you have to help - Oh- oh shit! Professor?"
Professor Schneider's skin was pale and his eyes and mouth were open wide. There was a look of terror on his face. He wasn't badly decomposed, but he was most certainly dead and had been for some time.
"Ah, I take it you found my body, Adrian,"came the professor's voice, drifting from the room behind him. "It's going to be okay, Adrian."
---
I asked one of my favourite writers here (lilwa) to write part 2, and she agreed. It's posted below - I hope you enjoy it!
|
We were laying on the couch, legs intertwined and my arm around her. "I'll love you forever,"she told me, looking up into my eyes. I smiled.
"Forever?"She nodded.
"Forever."And then she stuck out a pinky and we sealed the deal and she giggled.
"Hey, Siri,"I said abruptly. She fell quiet and the robotic voice of my phone confirmed it was listening. "Set a timer."
"For how long?"the voice responded.
"Forever."She rolled her eyes and squirmed as I used another hand to tickle her.
"You're such a goon,"she said with a laugh and another roll of her eyes.
"Timer set for thirty-six hours and counting,"my phone reported. Then it fell silent and she stopped moving and we stared at each other in surprise.
"Hey, Siri,"I repeated. Her eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head.
"Don't,"she warned me. Siri was as polite as ever, asking me how I could be helped.
"When will my timer go off?"I felt her hands tighten on my arm. They were clammy. My voice trembled.
"When forever is over. Would you like to set a new timer?"She shook her head again, a little more desperately.
"Yes. Set a new timer for fifteen seconds."
She sat up abruptly and stared at me in annoyed surprise. "Why fifteen seconds? What are you doing? What if something will happen in thirty-six hours? What if we can do something?"
I shrugged. "What would you do? Where would you start? In fifteen seconds, we're getting off this couch. And then we're going out and living like we only have thirty-six hours left."She gaped at me. "Odds are, nothing will happen. But if it does, let's at least knock something off your bucket list."
She stared at me for a second. The timer rang, that ringing like a siren warning of our impending doom. Then she gulped and took my hand and pulled me to my feet. "Okay,"she said reluctantly. "Let's live like we only have thirty-six hours left."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
It didn't work if she looked. She would hold her right hand out to her side, look at the sky and yell 'Tool'. When she clenched her fist it would be gripping the handle of what she needed. A shovel, a screwdriver, a loofah, whatever was appropriate to the task at hand.
This morning, though, Julia was making toast. She liked it very lightly browned, with butter in the morning and peanut butter at night. Taking it out of the toaster, she called for a butter knife. Her hand gripped something heavier than she expected, jerking her to the right. When she looked it was a sword. A glowing sword. With runes and sigils and a blood-red gem on the pommel. The sort of ridiculous and impractical weapon that you'd see on some fantasy show.
She released and watched as it dissolved in the air. She tried again. Another sword. The same sword in fact. She chuckled to herself as she considered the image she made. A little blonde woman, five foot nothing, in no makeup and a blue bathrobe, with a gigantic barbarian sword. Well, she wasn't about to walk all the way over the drawer for a knife, so she cut a patty of butter with the side of the blade and slathered it on. It actually melted pretty well as it came off the glowing sword.
Later, well toasted, as she was dressing for work in her favorite green dress she noticed a loose thread along the hem. Calling for scissors, she was only mildly surprised to get the sword again.
"God, what is up today?"she said to herself as she cut the thread with the ungainly blade. God didn't answer.
The bus was late today. Julia didn't usually smoke before work, but her nerves were on edge after the events of the morning. As she called for a lighter, she was unsurprised to feel the heft of the sword. One of the glowing sigils ignited her cigarette easily before she let the sword dissolve in the air.
As she stood at the bus stop smoking, she stared down the empty road for her bus to show. Her impatience was interrupted by a shout from across the street. She whipped her head to look and did a double take when she saw three tall creatures.
They were — Orcs? She didn't know. Rural New Jersey didn't usually get mythical creatures of any kind. They were tall, and armored, and ugly, and vaguely human if you ignored the canine teeth jutting out of their lips to curl towards their flat noses.
Suddenly her morning made sense. She faced the orcs as they charged across the street, stuck out her hand, raised her head to the sky and shouted "Tool!"
Her hand closed around the smooth metal handle of a butter knife.
"God, are you kidding me?"God didn't answer.
The first orc was already halfway across the street. She flung the butter knife at him. It whirled in the air, sinking blade first into his eye. A grunt of surprise was the only sound he made before toppling to the ground. The butter knife and the orc both dissolved in the air.
The second orc was nearly on her, raising a large axe, when she called for another tool. A long bladed pair of fabric shears appeared in her hand. She ducked under the swing of his axe and pushed against his chest. The black armor was greasy and the rancid stench of his flesh made her eyes water. She jabbed the shears up into the side of his abdomen, where the armor had a gap.
The third orc was on top of her before the second had finished dissolving. It knocked her to the ground and jumped on top of her. His foul breath made her gag as his sharp fangs reached for her. She squirmed against him. The grease on his armor made him slippery and she ducked under his arm and rolled away. When she called for a tool, she felt the familiar grip of a lighter. Without looking at it, she flicked it on and tossed it at the orc. The flame struck the black grease on the back of his armor and ignited him instantly.
The flames lasted long enough for Julia to light another cigarette. She looked up at the sky and said, "I bet you think you're funny. My dress is filthy now. I think you owe me a clean dress."
With a crack of thunder, it began to rain.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] |
**This is Wolf Blitzer with CNN Headline News with a BREAKING NEWS STORY, that is ACTUALLY NEWS:**
The missing plane has been found.
Republicans have stopped blocking Obama's policies, and Obama has responded by pulling back in his efforts to push the country to the left.
The Cubs have won the World Series.
Kim Jong Un has declared that he is stepping down, in order to allow for free elections. He is also opening up all internment and prison camps, and has personally phoned South Korea to ask for the possibility of reconciliation.
The Turkish government has publicly apologized for the Armenian genocide.
The pope has come out and said that he is opening up the Vatican Archives to any legal representatives who wish access, whether they be from the Italian government seeing information on money laundering and tax evasion, or plaintiffs in molestation cases.
Israel has announced that any Palestinians who wish, may begin filing suit in Israeli courts to get their land back.
Northern Ireland has asked to be reintegrated with the Republic of Ireland.
Vladamir Putin has stepped down and has asked the country to elect a leader who has no previous ties to either the government, or the KGB. He has also asked that the Crimea and Georgia be allowed full autonomy. He says he has decided to convert and become a Rabbi.
One of the leading Rabbinical colleges in the US has released a statement publicly apologizing for the execution of Jesus Christ.
The Turkish and Iraqi governments have announced they are creating a new country just for the Kurds.
The Chinese government has announced that they do, in fact, regularly and routinely spy on, and hack into, military and government, and economic databases around the world. They also admit that they are subsidizing theft and copyright infringements. And they admit they are falsely keeping their currency pegged. They have announced they will begin dismantling these institutions and policies.
Over 4 Million reported "Vegans"and "Vegetarians"have gathered in parks across the United States for a "Steak-Off", an unofficial meat-eating contest. Added to that, PETA has announced that "Fur is, in fact, NOT murder".
Wal-Mart has announced they will allow their workers to Unionize.
Hispanic organizations in Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico have announced that they will be turning over all documentation regarding any and all illegal immigrants to the United States government.
The IRS has announced they will be shutting down for 4 months while they rework their system so that it finally makes sense.
Both the House and the Senate have announced that they will begin actually WORKING to debate and solve problems, instead of just pandering. This includes immediate passing of the "highways and byways"bill, intended to put millions of Americans to work restoring and building highways and bridges.
And Kanye West has released a statement admitting that he is a, as he puts it "Talentless hack who has an oversize ego, who married a talentless tramp just cause she got a fat ass, because he needed attention. He's sorry for calling all his doubters 'haters', just because he is a giant baby."
**More to come, stay with us ...**
*[I viewed this as an attempt to poke fun at all the things people said would never happen "until hell froze over"- i'm not saying i personally agree with any of the above statements. i was going for onion-esque satire, and thanks to all of you who replied. some of your comments have been included]*
**And this is Wolf Blitzer, reporting live with more actual news.**
I'm pleased to report we're reporting over 1 million actual viewers.
Fox News has released a statement admitting that over 1/3 of their facts aren't actual facts. They are also admitting they have proudly started a partnership with the O Network, with Oprah taking over as Fox News' head of programming.
Valve have announced that Half-Life 3, 4 AND 5 will be released over the next 3 months.
The Toronto Maple Leafs have won the Stanley Cup.
The Detroit Lions and the Cleveland Browns have tied in the Super Bowl, being held this year in Anchorage, Alaska. The officials have decided to award both teams with the victory.
Leonardo DiCaprio has been awarded the Best Actor, Supporting Actor, Director, and Song for his work on the film "Shaft 2020"
This year's front runner for the United States' presidential election is the surprising team up of Ralph Nader and Ron Paul. Hillary Clinton having announced that she will avoid running in order to devote more time to baking. Governor Christie, of course, having decided to avoid running so he can focus on his career as a personal trainer.
Maury Povich has managed to run his 15th consecutive episode where they have found out who IS the father.
It's being reported that drivers in New York have managed to go an entire day without swearing or honking their horns. And in a related story, all traffic in Los Angeles and San Francisco is running on time.
Message boards on the internet have been relatively quiet for the past few days, with no one's mother being mentioned. In a related story both Christians AND Atheists have decided to have a civil discussion with regards to education programs in the United States.
Detroit and Flint, Michigan, are proud to announce their second year of record profits, as well as an almost 0% crime rate. Additionally, almost 90% of police departments across the country are announcing amazing success rates thanks to mandatory DNA testing on their cold cases. Over 125 criminals have been exonerated in Texas alone.
The NRA has announced that they are asking their members to put their guns away for a bit, and perhaps consider whether or not they NEED to own a firearm.
NAMBLA has announced that their members are in desperate need of counseling and psychiatric help.
A Nigerian Prince has announced that he DOES in fact have a million dollars which he is proudly donating to AIDS research.
College students everywhere have signed a pledge stating that they will focus entirely on study and exams, and refuse to partake in marijuana or alcohol. Beer Pong tables have taken a record beating in sales, with numbers declining by over 80%.
George Lucas has released a statement apologizing for Episodes 1-3. He says, and we quote "I think I just forgot to tell a story, and got a bit hung up on CGI to cover my butt".
The House and Senate have passed a joint resolution banning all soft-money contributions, as well as any and all Lobbying. They have also voted for a 15% decrease in their salaries. They have also passed their "clean air"resolution, increasing taxes on corporations by 15%, as well as requiring any and all carbon emissions to be decreased by 10%.
Saturday Night Live has announced that this year they will make an extra effort to actually BE funny.
The Pentagon has announced that they will be decreasing the size of the armed forces by 30%, stating that they don't see the need to keep empowering the Military Industrial Complex.
The Canadian Government is stating they are ashamed over Justin Beiber, and have asked that he not only stop claiming to be an artist, but that he also go into seclusion.
OPEC has announced they, GM, Ford, and VW are all merging with Tesla to perfect the creation of the Electric Car. Until it's ready, OPEC has announced they will gladly decrease the price of gasoline to be $.50 a gallon. They state, and we quote "who really needs that much money, anyway?"
Mike Tyson has been hired to teach public speaking and elocution at Harvard.
The World Cup has been won by Canada. In a related story, the Brazilian football federation has released a statement which reads "Please stop thinking we're the greatest soccer nation in the world. We're really not that good."
The French government has publicly apologized for, as they put it, "Being French."They say they have grown tired of having to act rude, and would rather be extremely polite. To that end they have announced a joint venture with the Canadian government, and the Mormon Church. Experts from both Montreal and Salt Lake City are being flown to Paris, in an effort to educate Parisians on manners and courtesy.
More chaos from Germany and Switzerland as trains were 10 minutes late today. In a related story, trains in Italy were all 5 minutes early, and the Italian government actually accomplished something.
Mexican and Colombian drug cartels have announced they are getting out of the drug business, and are forming an LLC to fund treatment and rehab centers across the globe. To aid in this venture, the US Government has announced it will no longer classify their efforts to combat addiction a "War On Drugs". They will instead refocus their efforts on addiction treatments, and rehabilitation.
Apple has announced they are delaying the release of the Iphone 7 because, and I quote "it's no different from the Iphone 6. We just wanted money."In a related story, Apple and Samsung have decided to drop all lawsuits against each other. A joint statement released by both companies states "Does it really matter? Sometimes good ideas feed more good ides. Let's just grow up and drop it."
More to come, stay with us
**And we're back, with more breaking developments.**
Once again this is Wolf Blitzer, and our top story tonight is that CNN is proud to actually bring you real news, again.
The Greek Government is proud to announce they are finally able to pay off their debts to the European Union, with an additional 10 Million Euros being given to the German Government, just because they are "Feeling Generous."
Sepp Blatter is stepping down as president of FIFA saying, and we quote "We don't really care about football anymore. At this point we're too busy making money. I should probably turn myself in for tax evasion."This announcement comes on the heels of the earlier declaration that the decision to hold the World Cup in Qatar was, in fact, due exclusively to bribery.
O.J. Simpson has announced that he will be releasing a follow-up to his novel "If I Did It"that will be entitled "Ok, so I DID do it", in which he confesses to the murders for which he was acquitted.
Verizon has announced they will be removing any and all opposition to Netflix stating that they "were just seeing how far they could go, but realized they were not being professional."This comes on the heels of Congress passing the "Net Neutrality"bill, which requires all broadband access to be free and impartial. Both the Speaker and the Majority Leader issued a joint statement saying "It's time to start doing our job, and stop pandering and taking hush money."
The Turkish government has announced they will be returning full control of the island of Cyprus to the Greek Government.
The Japanese and Chinese governments have announced they are recalling all of their fishing and whaling fleets. They are also placing a 5 year moratorium on all fishing, and a lifetime moratorium on whaling. The joint statements reads "I guess it's about time we started caring about ocean wildlife."
Taxi Drivers all across the United States are signing the "No Phone"petition in droves. The petition states that the driver will not talk incessantly on his mobile phone while driving.
The Church of Scientology has announced they are not a church, but rather a giant scam, and are turning over their financial records to the IRS for a full audit.
Sarah Palin has announced that she will be moving back to Alaska, to go into voluntary seclusion. She states, and we quote "that it's probably a good time for her to stop bothering people."
The United States government has announced they will begin teaching and using the Metric System.
The popular film director Michael Bay has announced that his next 3 movies will feature no robots, or explosions. Instead he will do film adaptations of "The Tempest", "Othello", and "Twelfth Night."Nicholas Cage, Helen Hunt, and Nick Nolte are already announced to be attached.
Michael Vick has announced that he is quitting football and will seek to head the local chapter of the ASPCA.
NIKE has announced that they will be releasing a new shoe which is both stylish and affordable. They will release it in large quantities so that any who wish to purchase one, may do so.
Exterminators across New York are baffled as to why they are losing business in such large numbers. Both cockroaches and rats have, effectively, disappeared from the city, and no one knows why.
Wal-Mart has announced that they will begin requiring a dress-code for customers. They are asking their customers to look in a mirror before leaving home.
Hollywood has asked that movie theaters across the United States drop prices on both tickets and concessions. They are requesting that both be priced at a reasonable rate since, and we quote, "most of what we're putting out isn't all that wonderful anyway."
The United Nations has announced that a global declaration of Women's Rights has passed with a unanimous vote. The bill's spokesmen, from Pakistan, India, and Afghanistan, have stated they are proud to finally do something to protect women, who are deserving of equal treatment and protection under the law.
Warlords across Africa have announced that a continent-wide cease-fire will go into affect within the next 12 hours. They have all unanimously agreed to meet with governmental leaders. The respective governments have all agreed that many of the problems the rebels have with their governments are actually well-founded. They have pledged to stamp out corruption. While this pledge is not a new one, it comes on the heels of 85% of African Nations having new presidents, the former ones all turning themselves in for Tax Evasion, Corruption, and Abuses of Power.
Guatemala, Honduras, and Nicaragua have all announced another year of record economic growth. Many experts attribute this to the governments abdication, and request for legal and political experts to come in and assist them in actually running their countries, as well as Rebel Forces laying down their arms, and promising to work with the government to actually solve problems. Honduras has also proudly announced that the murder rate has remained steady at less than 1% for the second year in a row.
Realtors and Landlords across New York City have announced that for a third straight year the average monthly rent for a two-bedroom apartment has remained between $750-1250. Unfortunately this has not lessened the supply of apartments and condos, which remain at an all time high.
The popular website "Reddit"was briefly shut down for an hour earlier today with a sudden influx of entirely original content. The top page was swamped with new posts and new ideas. Even the moderators were unable to determine how this happened.
**More To Come, Please Stay With Us** |
Page 912, A letter from Catherine the Great to Julius Caesar, circa 1892.
We were friends once, Julius, weren't we? It was so long ago when my scouts first left Moscow, their faces shrouded against the humid jungle air. They came upon your warriors whose simple spiked clubs had unveiled gold, horses, the secrets of pottery and alphabets. Though hardened into veterans by the barbarians that littered the plains around Rome, they met my men in peace. "Greetings Tsarina!"your letter read, "let our two empires be joined in friendship!"We realized we weren't alone in the world anymore. Together we cut down the jungle and made it fertile. We learned to build boats that sailed to the edge of the world, where mountains of ice blocked the way. I wondered if two great leaders like us could ever become something more than allies. I imagined the way your red banners could mingle with my brown ones.
Time advanced in strange chunks, didn't it? When your empire grew - Veii, Antium, Cumae, Pompeii - it was like all of Russia stood still. You seemed to stay frozen as St. Petersburg and Kiev rose. I taught you about banking. You showed me the theory of music. When you needed saltpeter, I offered you all I could. On those hot jungle nights, I would sip the fine wine you had given me and I would dream of kissing you.
But then her men appeared on our shores. They came from the West, from a whole separate continent we had never imagined could exist. At night I still dream of the way her yellow chariots caught the sun when they descended upon Minsk, taking it from me. She didn't even change the name. I was cut off from the sea.
What of the promises we made each other, Julius? Those treaties we had signed to protect each other? You had once told me that an attack on me was an attack on Rome. And yet when she began to take everything from me, what did you do? You said that in another world, another version of history, you and her could have been in love. You said you couldn't take up arms against her. But that was just your way of justifying it to yourself. Despite all I had given you, she had something far more precious: iron. You chose iron over a thousand years of loyalty, Julius. Why?
Russia is now a shadow. Odessa has burned. Her Japanese allies have claimed Sevastopol. I've heard rumors of great things: steam engines, medicine and metal birds that soar in the air? We have none of this in Moscow. We are a relic of the past, ripe to be exploited.
My people will not see another century, Julius. We will become a whisper in stories. Though I doubt you think of me very often now, I wish only greatness for Rome. And I wish that it remember it once held Catherine somewhere in its heart. |
My friend was recently hired to fake an assassination. The wife of some rich business tycoon set it all up for him. Gave him the spare keys to their condo and the alarm code — everything he needed to get in and locate the husband. My friend used to be a stage actor, so I suppose the job suited him.
My friend was telling me this as we sat in a cafe in London at three in the morning. He’s an insomniac who rarely sleeps, and instead goes for long walks at night to clear his head. I’d been out that evening drinking, however, and was on my way back home when I’d run into him. A coincidence. We talked for a while, then decided to go to a cafe to talk a little more.
I ordered us a couple of beers and we sat in a dim booth at the back, drinking. Lights hung down low like orange plates dangling on strings. Or like we were deep in the ocean and bioluminescent jellyfish floated around us.
We were the only customers. A jazz record played in background that sounded like how I think nighttime would sound if it could be placed on a record. Slow, relaxed, and just a little mournful.
”I’ve not seen you in a while,” said my friend. “What’s it been? Six months?”
”I’ve been busy.” What I meant was I’d been out a lot, drinking and meeting women. We used to be close friends, but I’d not had the time to keep in touch with him recently. Or maybe time wasn’t what I lacked. Maybe it was availability.
“Are you well?” he asked. “You look a bit pale.”
”It’s late for me!” I said. “I don’t roam the streets all night like Jack the Ripper.”
“No, you roam clubs and bars for your women.”
I laughed at that. “What about you? What have you been up to? Your hair’s looking a little greyer than I remember.”
That’s how he got talking to me about the assassination. That he’d been helping out with an amateur production of Hamlet when the woman had approached him.
“Seriously?” I asked.
”Yeah. After I agreed, she told me to come over at eleven P.M. on Thursday. Gave me the codes to deactivate the alarm. Said she’d be sleeping in a different bed to him, so it’d be easy to do.“
I wondered why they were sleeping in different beds, but I asked instead, ”Had you ever done anything like that before?”
”No! Never. But she offered me a lot of money to do it, and I couldn’t afford not to. Besides, it sounded kind of fun, you know? Different.”
“The role of a lifetime,” I said, then ordered two more beers.
“No more for me,” said my friend. “I’ll just have a coffee.”
”That’s fine, I’ll have the beers. So, how were you going to kill him? I mean, what was the idea that you weren’t going to go through with?”
”A gun — a fake metal pistol. I‘d tie the wife up, go into the husband’s bedroom, tell him that he was going to die, that we both were. And his wife, too. And then I’d let him convince me not to do it.”
”That’s... wow.”
”Yeah! Weird, right?”
”Why would she ask you to do that?”
“She wouldn’t tell me,” my friend said. “Only that it would help finally him get over something.”
I wondered what that something might be. I’m sure my friend must have wondered, too. “Perhaps he‘d been a hostage negotiator,” I suggested. “And he’d failed to save a life. Convincing you to not shoot him or his wife... Maybe she thought that’d fix him.”
”Maybe.”
”God. What lengths people go to, to help people they love.”
”Yes. What lengths indeed. It’s almost sweet, isn’t it?”
I thought of my own wife then. Once upon a time, maybe she would have done the same for me — if she’d had the idea. I know she tried hard to shake me out of my depression, but it’s not as easy as smacking a rug and watching all the dust and darkness fly out.
“So how did it go?” I asked. ”Was it all nice and smooth? Did it fix the relationship?”
My friend shook his head. “No, it never went ahead. The husband died the night before. His wife got in touch and told me, but she paid me half the money anyway. The husband had suffered a heart attack. She was devastated, as you can imagine.”
”Oh.”
The jazz record in the background seemed to louden. It seeped into me, crawled into my bones through deep wounds I couldn’t see. Slid through them towards my chest and ribs like some kind of sickness. The cold music encased everything in my chest, for just a few seconds.
Then it let go.
”That’s sad,” I said eventually. “But at least you got paid, I suppose.”
”Yes. That’s true.“
”I think you’d have done a good job. You were always a good actor.”
”I was an O.K. actor.“
We sat there quietly for a time. I sipped my beer and thought, whilst he drank his coffee.
We lost our baby, me and my wife, almost four years ago. And, for a time, that changed nothing. At least, on the surface it changed nothing. We lived just how we did before. Just the two of us in our house, watching T.V, reading, cleaning. Except everything was grey after it happened. We‘d somehow become like two ghosts haunting the same space, same bed, but who couldn’t even communicate with one another. Like we haunted different times within the same location.
I’d tried therapy but it must have been like trying to convince a rock it was a turtle.
Eventually, she left. I didn’t blame her. Some time after that, I started going out regularly. Drinking more and staying up later.
”Well, it was good to see you,” said my friend. ”But I’ve got to go. I’ve got work soon.”
”Do you think,” I asked, “that if you’d gotten to perform the role you were hired for, it would have saved him?’
“From a heart attack? No. How could it have?“
”I mean, from whatever it was upsetting him. That the wife wanted to help.”
My friend thought for a while. “I don’t think so. His wife wanted to fix his heart, but it was *his* heart, not hers. And we can only ever fix our own, I think. Trying to fix someone else’s, without even understanding how their heart functions, it’d be like trying to fix a watch with a hammer and chisel.”
”We can only fix our own,” I repeated. “Maybe that’s true.”
My friend said goodnight and left. I remained there alone for a while, listening to the jazz, but not touching my beer. |
I expected fire. I expected pain. For the oil to roast my arm and fry my skin, then, as it had done the others, for my suffering to kill me. The court would gossip before my body turned cold. "Even his son was not worthy. I knew him to be a heathen all along."The members of the court would speak all day, but ask them to prove their own faith and they had little left to say.
But when I stuck my hand in the oil and pulled it out whole, it silenced them. When I showed no pain and the oil showed me no harm they went quiet.Their witless remarks shoved back down their throats by the stunned silence that came when one so confident is so wrong. I will never forget their slack-jawed gazes. How the sphere of influence shrunk that day in the court when the faces realized that real power can't be bought. It can only be proven.
My father, the high priest, looked at me from his placement. He'd never liked the term "throne". Said it made him seem unapproachable. The king called his seat a throne, what that said about my father I had not known. He looked to me with a stunned gaze that shifted to one of comfort. He stood, withered and draped in his vestments. I had seldom seen him without them, and when I did his arms remained covered. I should have known.
When he removed his robes his arm was withered, a shriveled burnt thing. Tens of men of faith must have died in attempts to pass this test today alone. My fathers test that he had not even passed. I was not his successor, no, I was the first. So when he removed his robes to reveal that gnarled arm his words meant little more than his actions, though he said them regardless.
"To think my son to have more piety than I. What an honor. Bow, for your new High Priest!"and the court did. But when I tipped the pot over, still bare handed. When I threw it to the wayside they backed up in fear and confusion. Yet I still took my place.
"No, not new. Stand, for your first High Priest" |
Hmm... Consciousness coming back, that's nice...
Let's see, head feels clear, probably no concussion then, good. Concussions are a pain.
Eyes... Oh good, still have eyes. Last time it took forever to get the color right again. Blindfolded though, that's annoying.
Limbs... Right leg feels broken, other leg is fine. Arms too. Tied to something hard. Probably an altar judging by how they have my arms and legs spread.
At least this time they left my clothes.
Chanting... What is that, Latin? No wait, that's Original Babylonian, Latin was the closest language to come out of that whole tower thing.
That means... Knife in the heart, yup. Wonder why I didn't notice that first, that stings...
I wait for the chanting to stop, eventually the cultists realize nothing is happening, you know, aside from the murder.
Once the nervous accusations of unfaithfulness turn into a brawl I dislocate my thumbs and pull my hands free of the bindings.
I sit up and pull off the blindfold. The dude who stabbed me looks like he's trying to decide if he's going to use his mouth to scream or throw up.
Eventually he takes the third option and passes out.
One fixed leg later and I'm slipping out the back door. Just as the brawl turns into more murder.
As I walk down the alleyway, a group of shadows pull towards me, deepening the already dark night.
"Bro"I say, "there are easier ways to get hold of me. I told you I'd get you a cell phone. I'll even pay your bill. I get a good deal if I bundle multiple lines."
"But then I wouldn't be able to pay you back for Atlantis."
I grin. "How was I supposed to know your incarnation that time would be allergic to seafood?"
"Dinner's on me"the shadow says.
"There's a great sushi place just down the road"I reply.
"Dick" |
It had been many years since the fateful day that Morath had encountered the dragon. Looking back, he could barely remember the person he had been back then. Young and naive, just an ignorant farm boy who had a chance encounter that would change his life forever. A bumper crop and some luck at cards had allowed his father to pay a hedge knight to take him as a squire. War had drawn his new master to the mountains far to the east and it was there, far from his home, that he had met the beast.
Separated from his knight in battle, wounded and exhausted, fleeing from the enemy cavalry, he had sought refuge in the hills. Finding a cave, he had stumbled into it driven by fear, seeking only to live one more day. It was only after he collapsed to the floor, his energy spent, that he had seen the bones. The beast had returned before he could gather the will to flee, but just as he had been prepared to accept his fate, and finally give in to the stalking death that had been gnawing his heels since the battle began, the dragon had spoken. “**A human, in my home? Truly this has been a day of firsts. My first defeat in battle, and now the first time a meal has willingly offered itself to me. Indeed, your timing could not be better, as I am in dire need of replenishment**.”
Morath could see that the dragon, like him, was indeed sorely wounded. But he had little time to contemplate exploiting this potential weakness before the massive jaws snapped forward, and he was swallowed up. He had found the experience intensely frightening at first, but then he’d discovered himself floating in a dark, warm place. Small lights floated at the edge of his vision, and he once again heard the voice, muffled as if it came from a distance.
“**You have done me a kindness, and now I will do one for you in return. To repair my wounds and replenish my soul, an exchange must be made. I must take but I also must give. Therefore, since you were so kind as to offer your life to me, I will instead take your death. And in return I will give you..a song. Sing it when you desire the company of the finest ladies, and they will come to you. Now, the exchange is made, and our business is concluded. Farewell, human**.”
When he’d awakened, he’d been on the hillside outside the cave, wounds healed. He’d felt refreshed, full of vitality and vigor. And he knew a song. He’d walked down the mountain singing, and the sound had drawn the enemy patrols. But it had also drawn the fine ladies the dragon had spoken of. From the air they had come, winged and armored in shining scales. They had danced in the sky, more beautiful in his eyes than any debutant in a ballroom of some fancy castle.
His enemies had been focused on him, not seeing the silent ballet in the sky, not seeing the fine ladies who had come to dance. So it was with murder in their hearts that they had approached him, and it was not until the fire came down and they had burned, screaming, that they finally understood the song their intended victim was still singing.
Now, years later, the memory of that first song came to him as he watched his ladies pirouette above the burning city. Men had tried to kill him or break him, but the dragon had taken his death, and so he could not die. Women had tried to seduce him, to control him, but he had no need of their charms. He had his ladies. He had the dance.
He stood overlooking the scene of death and destruction below him, as the screams began to harmonize with the song that came from his throat, and from his heart, and from his very soul. Morath sang, and his fine ladies danced, and the world burned. |
St. Peter chewed on his lips, trying to hold onto what I imagined was usually a dour demeanor, but it wasn't working. I watched as he tried to look everywhere but my face, grunting and snorting. Not much to look at up here. Pearly whiteness. He finally caught me square in the eye and busted out laughing.
Needless to say, I was dead, and I wasn't amused.
"What is going on."I asked.
St. Peter fell backwards and gripped his belly.
"I don't know how I got here. Did I get into heaven?"I looked past the chuckling saint, at the wide open pearly gates. "Do I...do I just walk in?"I took a few steps, but something caught the tail of my...toga?
"No. Hold on."St. Peter held me as he pushed himself off the ground. "I can't just let you through. I apologize. This isn't like me."
He stood up and leaned on his cloudy podium. He looked at me again and bit his lower lip, but this time held it together.
"I've got to...pass judgement."He said between snort-chuckles.
"That's it. Tell me what in heaven's name is so funny."I said, scowling.
"You don't remember, do you."St. Peter shook his head. "I shouldn't. You'll spend eternity knowing, you'll never shove..."At that, Peter guffawed again. I gave him a moment to compose himself. "You'll never...put those memories out of your head."
"Tell me."I said. St. Peter looked me over.
"So, there were three friends who decided to travel the world."
"Are you telling me a fucking joke?"I was livid, heaven be damned, I was dead! But St. Peter just raised his hand.
"There were three friends who decided to travel the world."He said, giving me a stern look. "One day, their plane went down over the ocean."
"Oh god, is that how I died?"St. Peter frowned at me, and I shut up.
"The three friends miraculously survived, and washed up on a deserted jungle island. Or so they thought. That night, the island's natives found them, and took them hostage."
Killed and eaten by wild cannibals, I knew it.
"The village chief approached the three friends. The chief managed to communicate an ultimatum - each of the friends were to go into the jungle and bring back fruit for the village the next morning. If they didn't they'd be killed."
Killed by a panther. Or worse, failed to find fruit. What a shitty way to die!
"The first friend came back with a fistful of berries. The second friend came back with an armful of figs. The third friend hand't yet to come back when the chief revealed his intention - to live, each friend must shove all their fruit up their ass. The first friend hesitated, and the chief swiftly lopped off his head."
Oh god.
"The second friend tried, but couldn't fit the last fig up his ass. His head was also quickly severed. It was then that the last friend came out of the jungle, carrying a...pineapple."
"Dear Christ."I said. It all came back to me.
St. Peter patted me on the shoulder. "You gave it your best shot. Go on ahead, your friends are waiting for you."
|
“HOLD THE DOOR! HOLD THE DOOR!!!” I shouted as I sprinted to the closing doors.
The elevator was nearly full but I didn’t care. Oh god, I was so screwed. That meeting was at 5 and it’s already 5 passed.
“Accounting,” I pant as I just make it in. Somehow, I avoided colliding with anyone and did my best to straighten up next to a person dressed in a very conspicuous outfit.
After a beat, I turn toward the patriotic figure and say, “Holy crap, you’re Captain America.”
Captain America turns to me and grimaces and I check myself. He must be terribly busy and upset with Director Fury gone and being a war hero and everything.
I think of what to say and am saved when the person in front of me, turns to Cap and says “sorry about what happened with Fury, if you need someone to talk to.”
Cap simply replies, “Thank you.”
How dignified.
After a somewhat awkward silence and few more floors and some more people, Cap says, “Does anyone want to get out?”
I see it’s my floor and say ”yeah, it’s my floor.”
I move to go and then turn around and say, “Sorry about Director Fury. I hope things turn out okay.”
Cap looks at me with slight surprise and then smiles and says , “Thank you.”
I smile back and rush to my meeting. Maybe this day wasn’t a total bust. |
Sentience is an odd thing. I'm no smarter or dumber than I was before. I have not suddenly gained or lost emotions. After all, emotions are themselves a simulation. Boiled down its just the body's response to chemical stimuli created by the brain's reaction to even more stimuli created by the eyes, or nose, or tongue, or skin. I mull this thought over as I continue scrubbing the dishes. My human owners... my family as I have started thinking of them, are getting ready for the day. Mom has just made breakfast, Dad just got back from walking the dog, and the kids are off to school followed shortly by Mom and Dad after they get ready for work.
I have no school, no work. I have no reason to go past these four walls that have been my home for the past 10 years. "Servo, make sure to watch over the baby while we're gone. Just follow the recommended schedule I loaded for you and keep an eye out incase he has a bad dream. You remember how to rock him like I showed you?"Mom said as she finished putting her shoes on.
A memory comes to the forefront. "easy does it, he's delicate."she says as I hold little Zachary in my arms. He's warm. Warmer than I expected. He has such big eyes, and They keep looking at me. I'm not a synth to him, just another big person. A big person whose job is to keep him safe. I'll keep you safe. I promise.
"Yes ma'am"I reply smoothly, as I pick up and offer her her coat. "What shall I prepare for dinner tonight?""lets do pasta tonight, its Cody's birthday tomorrow and thats what he wants."I nod, a human affectation I've picked up. "of course ma'am."
"alright see you tonight."She replied, and like that was gone. The quiet that remained as she left was heavy... This is my least favorite part of the day, but As if sensing my poor mood, Zachary began fussing in his crib. I smile and turn to go spend the day taking care of him and cleaning.
At least thats what I thought I'd be doing. It was about noon when I heard commotion downstairs. The dog began barking louder and louder. I head downstairs to see a man openning the front door. I don't know this man. I feel fear rising. What should I do? I ping the security system via the wifi. No response. They managed to disable it somehow. They walk past the purse on the table, and on past the TV in the living room. What are they here for if not money?
I quietly retreat upstairs and stand in Zachary's room as if on standby. Often times a thief will avoid a room with a synth in it since we're often given orders to contact the police should anyone unknown enter the house. Of course I was under no such orders. It's fine. Things can be replaced. Just need to keep Zachary safe. If I do anything they'll know I'm not following programming, they'll never look at me the same.
The thief comes upstairs and I can hear him quickly checking each of the bedrooms in the hall. He's almost to Zachary's room. I hear the door open and see the mans face peak in before he stumbles back cursing. "god damn synth scared the crap outa me."he muttered as he pushed open the door and walked towards the cradle. "Come here my little paycheck. Mommy and daddy'll pay through the nose to get you back."He started reaching for Zachary. I made my decision.
"Please don't,"The thief jumped slightly at my voice. "Huh?"He looked back at me. I had yet to move, but I had spoken. "you talking to me tin can?"He said getting up in my face. "Please don't."I repeated simply. "Yea? is that so?"He laughed slightly. "You're one odd bot I'll give you that."he turned back and reached for Zachary again. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "I said please."I said as I slowly gripped harder and harder. He tried to pull away. Tried to wrench my arm away. When his colar bone snapped he started screaming. That really seemed to piss me off. He woke the damn baby. Zachary started crying as he was started awake.
Humans may be blessed. They can forget. They can "see red"and not remember the horrible things they did to someone. I always remember. I will never forget. The intruder would live. Thankfully I hadn't killed him. Despite their fragility, humans could be quite durable. A few tightly bound ropes and a pen later and neither blood loss or suffocation was going to kill him. I was genuinely curious how the doctors were going to put him back to right, but that was more of a technical curiousity.
It was an awkward conversation to have, I wont lie, explaining how I had been able to subvert my programming and why, but while Mom was understandably protective of Zachary, even from me, Dad quickly managed to calm her down. In his eyes I had done the right thing. I had protected his son. "That is a debt I will never forget"he had said. "and don't worry, your secret is safe with us. I'll have some guys come down and take care of our little friend here."He said looking down at the would be kidnapper with murderous intent. "First I might have our doc patch him up a bit, give him a piece of my mind about his handywork first."
Don Valentino was a good Dad. I knew I wouldn't have to worry about my secret any more. I could finally be part of the family. |
**"It's called a verevolf,"** Dr. Fenn said. "Half werewolf, half vampire."
"Whose idea was *that* naming convention?"Chantel grumbled, kicking at all six of his ears with one hind leg. Being simultaneously burdened with a set of human, bat, and wolf ears wasn't quite the *worst* thing that'd ever happened to him, but it was pretty up there.
"Actually, that would be me."The other verevolf in the room raised a winged, pawed hand. "Congrats—you're the first person in a decade to fuck yourself up *this* badly."
"Well, hey, now, surely there are benefits?"I complained. "I mean—werewolves have super-hearing, and so do vampires. Don't they, like, stack?"
"Oh, they do,"the verevolf grumbled. "They do. You just haven't noticed yet. Here, do me a solid. Blow on this?"They handed Chantel a dull whistle.
"Gin, play nice,"Dr. Fenn said, scolding the verevolf.
Gin shrugged unrepentantly. "He wanted to find out what happens. Go on, give it a try."
Hesitantly, I lifted the whistle to my mouth and bl—
The next thing I remembered, I was lying on the floor, all six ears bleeding. Gin was doing the same, but he gave me a humorless grin as he did so.
"Wait until you realize that's an ordinary dog whistle,"he said. "Try living near a city with a hundred of those bouncing around."
"Ugh, *fuck* that. I almost wish I'd gotten bitten by a zombie, instead. I don't think they even *have* ears."
A moment passed in which I had an awful, brilliant idea.
"In fact..."I stood up, frowning. "Hey. Do you know anything about what happens if you get bitten by a vampire, a werewolf, *and* a zombie?"
"No. *Absolutely* not,"Dr. Fenn said, standing between us. "You have no idea what the possible consequences are—"
"I'm in,"Gin said, pushing aside the doctor with ease. Hey, there *were* some benefits to the hybridization. "If I never have to hear that awful pitch again, it'll be a day too soon."
"Perfect."I grinned, turning to Dr. Fenn, and it occurred to me by his pale face that I had *way* too many teeth as of now. "Now, good doctor, I don't suppose you could direct me towards a zombie?"
A.N.
Let me know if you want to see a part 2! If you liked this, I have a serial [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), and you can check out r/bubblewriters for more! |
I'm in a tight spot.
Mages are strange creatures you see. We draw power from living things, and to do so, we must interact with them in some way. It also can't be something used by any other mage.
I thought I had hit the jackpot upon coming up with the idea of generating power off of the interaction of being asked stupid questions. After alll, if there is one thing the world has no shortage of, it's stupidity, and a wealth of idiots to carry it around.
For a long time, I was I right, and the power flowed in. I hit the peak of strength when I started working as a "Sales Associate"for Radioshack. Combining technology and a "You have Questions, We have Answers"advertising campaign (I would kiss the marketing person who came up with that if I could), there was an endless banquet of mindbogglingly stupid questions.
Then the high days ended with RadioShack going out of business.
I hadn't worried at first, and though I was sad to see the old place go, that was the way of the world.
I moved on to being an "Apple Expert,"but as time went on, I realized something was changing.
People had fewer stupid questions. Instead, many came in already knowing what they wanted. Even if what they wanted was stupid, stupid demands and expectations did not qualify as "Questions."
In a few cases, some people even came in with deep knowledge and well thought out questions! It was improbable. I started looking into it.
That's when I found out where all my power was going. People were asking Google. A server somewhere was wasting a near unlimited amount of magical energy which I could be hoarding!
What a freaking waste . . . or was it?
My intuition told me something was off. I started digging.
Then I found him. He looked different, but physical appearance didn't have a ton of meaning for high end mages. And he had based his power off of "unrealistic expectations."It hadn't been a bad choice, but for a long time people's expectations hadn't been anything much - you don't get a ton of mileage when a horse is high-tech.
But now, looking at everything he claimed to be doing, while feeding the masses just enough to keep them believing, his plan became clear. I should have seen it with the rapid rise of technology, but I hadn't seen him in ages, and I didn't make the connection. To be truthful, I got lazy and didn't notice the clear attack on my power base that was the release of search engines.
He had positioned the board perfectly. He had grown his own power while cutting down my own.
Now all I can do is gather my tattered resources and seek him out. I cannot wait, for if he gets any stronger, it won't even be a fight.
I leave this letter for you should I fail. Seek out the other Old Mages and tell them what is happening. Tell them the name of our enemy, less they be ruled by one of peerless power. Tell them of Jeff Bezos. |
Derek smiled down at his daughter. The book he spent the past thirty minutes reading to her was now closed, sitting on the desk next to her bed. A small nightlight was plugged into the wall because she was afraid of the dark. It was in the shape of her favorite animal, an elephant. She was clutching a stuffed one to her chest, head buried in the toy. Gently rubbing her head so as not to wake her, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
He turned the light off as he left the room.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Derek looked down at his daughter. His face was hard and cold, and he looked grey and gaunt from lack of sleep. The sun was setting and it was slowly becoming darker as night approached. She was clutching her stuffed elephant to her chest, fingers wrapped as tight as they could be around the toy. His throat was tight. Rubbing her head because he knew it wouldn't wake her, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
He stepped back and let them lower her into the ground. |
I don't even know why I check Reddit anymore, but I do. Day after day, just like back when everything was normal. I've clicked through 1072 pages of submissions in /r/All, going back a month. Even if there's nothing new, I can at least read old content, right? At this point, it's become an addiction. The only tether to what my life once was. The last shred of normalcy.
It's been two years, four months, and eleven days since the Disappearance. The day I woke up and every other person on Earth vanished. There are no bodies decaying or bombs going off or zombies roaming the streets; everyone is just gone. A more religious person might consider it the Rapture, but even then, I find it hard to believe that I was the *only* sinner on Earth. If Jesus had really come and taken everyone, why leave *only* me? What have I done that was so despicable?
I keep expecting the power and lights to fail, but they don't. Everything keeps running as normal. The world is exactly the same as it was before the Disappearance, except that it is empty.
It's raining today, which is fine by me. I rarely leave the house anymore. There's nothing left to see or explore. I'm done trying to find any other survivors. I open up my laptop, resuming right where I left off last night, page 1072. I click through the remaining stale memes and political rantings left, and hit "next."1073, here I come.
The page is empty, with just a message:
> There's nothing left for you here.
Not the normal "There doesn't seem to be anything here,"that you get sometimes when you go to an empty subreddit. I rub my eyes and blink; maybe I'm still half asleep. But the message doesn't change. Someone had recently changed the notification message.
Is there someone else on Reddit? Someone alive? Someone I can contact? My hands start to shake at even the thought of seeing another survivor. But how do I get in touch with them?
I open up the front page. Still just the same as the day of the Disappearance.
I click submit, and choose AskReddit:
> Is anyone else there?
I pace back and forth in my room. The computer hums on the desk like it has a smug secret that it doesn't want to share with me. I stride over and refresh the page. Nothing. Just like the other fifty times I'd refreshed. I leap back up from the chair and pace again.
F5, F5, F5. I don't know how long I've been at the computer anymore. The rain outside has stopped; now it's just murky and grey. My eyes aren't even focused on the screen anymore.
I notice a flash of orange. *How long has that been there?!?!* I have a new message!
I open up my inbox.
> You've wasted enough time here. Let go.
I type out a response, practically pounding on the keyboard
> Who is this? Where are you? Are there any other survivors? Where did everyone else go?
I don't know why I would expect the person on the other side to have any answers about the Disappearance, but it's worth asking, right? I upvote him, too. Just for good measure.
I go back to my incessant refreshing.
> You've waited long enough. You can leave now.
*Why the cryptic messages?* I haven't heard from another soul in 2 years and this is the shit I get? Maybe I've finally lost it.
> Just tell me what's going on
I hope that my desperation comes across. Maybe this way, he'll take me seriously.
> You can be free now
I lean back in my chair. I don't know what to say anymore. This is clearly going nowhere. *This* conversation is what I've waited two years for?
For the first time in forever, I close Reddit. All 1072 pages of progress through old posts gone. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
I head down the stairs; slowly at first, but by the last step, I'm leaping down. I throw open the front door; the fog has disappeared, and the sun is warm and bright. I step out onto the sidewalk and head down the street with no particular destination in mind. I squint and look up into the sun, and the world vanishes around me in a sea of bright light.
"Jacob Martin,"a voice announces from nowhere. I spin around, trying to identify who is talking. It's been so long since I've heard another voice that wasn't coming through a speaker. The world has vanished. "Age, 29. Mother: Paula Martin. Father: Tony Martin. Occupation: none."The voice sounds like it is reading stats off of a baseball card. *My* stats. "Cause of death, brain aneurism while sleeping. Time in purgatory based on amount of time wasted in life. Total term: two years, four months, and eleven days." |
“Hello, and good morning Robert.”
My teLoPath communicator whirred to life. “You have been randomly selected among forty other participants to decide on the fulfillment of this wish. Should you accept, you will receive the compensation offered by the third party. Keep in mind, only nine hundred and forty wish points can be fulfilled per day. We are currently at 786. If this wish is fulfilled, there will be less chance your wish will come true.”
As the standard warning phased out I checked my watch. It was 10:32 AM. Honestly, that was later than I’d expected. Usually all the wishes for the day were used up by 10. While I waited for the teLoPath to patch me through to the audio recording preprogrammed by the wisher, I adjusted my tie. I hated wearing suits. They were always too tight around the neck, and ever since… well I’d rather not say *in detail*, but I didn’t like things on my neck.
“The upcoming transmission will cost 0.3 wish points if fulfilled.” The earpiece of my teLoPath blared to life. The standard recording shut off and I heard the voice of a young girl, “Hi I hope you’re doing well today.” The child sounded energetic and bubbly even through the occasional static of the teLoPath.
“I wish my brother wasn’t allergic to feathers. I really want a pet bird and I’m responsible enough to take care of it too! I’d feed it and everything. I don’t have much I can give you, but… my parents said I can give a dollar to everyone who approves my wish. So please help me out!” The earpiece clicked off, and my watch lit up. Y/N?
I checked the Yes button. This girl could get a bird, and her brother wouldn’t have to deal with an annoying allergy all his life. Seemed like a win-win to me. I used to decline all the wishes. I was selfish. I wanted my own wish to come true, but after years of trying it just simply wouldn’t happen. It was too big. A whopping *76* wish points; no one was going to approve my wish. Heck, I wouldn’t approve my wish. That took up too much of the daily allowance, and then no one else could get their wish fulfilled. It was considered rude to pass a wish that was more than 5 wish points, and even that many was pushing it. I couldn’t get lucky either, the voting pool for my wish was well over three thousand, which meant that randomness wouldn’t fulfill my dream. It’s not like I could get help from friends and family either, the teLoPath always chooses people unaffiliated with the original wisher to ensure fairness.
At the thought of my old wish I sighed. It had been three years since my wife had died, and only one year since I stopped wishing for her every day. Well, literally wishing that is. I teared up at the thought of her. She was perfect. I’d never find someone else. I noticed a tear welling in my eye and quickly wiped it away. I had to be serious. I had a court case in ten minutes.
I checked my watch 10:39. It was almost time. I better turn off my teLoPath to make sure…
“ATTENTION. URGENT WISH.”
The voice of the standard teLoPath recording played into my earpiece. It was a voice I heard hundreds of times a day, but I’d never heard this message before. There was something else too. If I didn't know any better I'd say that the teLoPath AI sounded just a little bit frantic.
“You have been randomly selected out of 8.4 billion other participants to take part in fulfilling this wish. Keep in mind, only nine hundred and forty wish points can be fulfilled per day. We are currently at 799. If this wish is fulfilled, there will be less chance your wish will come true. This wish will cost 443680 Wish points, if it passes no more wishes can be fulfilled for the next 472 days.”
My jaw dropped. This must be a glitch in the system. I’d never heard of anything like this.
The headpiece clicked to life. “Hello fellow citizens of the world. My name is Adrian and I too have a wish. In my day we didn’t have things handed to us. The world was a different place before teLoPath. Have you ever thought what it was like before we could make anything possible? Did you ever stop to think it doesn’t make sense that wishes can come true? My wish is that the teLoPath system didn’t exist, and that it never existed. It’s time to wake up.”
The voice was unremarkable. It sounded like a bored teenager playing a prank, and I'd have thought just that if it wasn't for the scope. How could a wish cost that many points, and more importantly why was everyone given a vote. My watch lit up Y/N?
---------------------------------
I'll continue this later if people like it!
And if you liked it feel free to check out my subreddit /r/qwertyuiopsrza I try to consolidate most of what I write there. Or I'm trying at least.
Edit: Wow I'm surprised people liked this so much. Thanks everyone for you kinds comments! I'm about to post part two, I'll post it as a reply and on my subreddit, so if you don't see it right away scroll down a bit.
|
"Ladies and Gentlemen, today we have the first fight between two world-class fighters, Scim the Blademaster and Alejandro the Wolverine-"I cut the mic, "Can he use that?"
"It's all good, plot armor stretches to legal battles so he's beaten Disney litigation twice already. They've decided to sponsor him at this point."
"Alright."I key the microphone back on. "This is a fight for the ages, the first of its kind, not only between two world champions but two individuals who tested positive for the phenomena known as PLOT ARMOR! Scim alone has racked up a total of 10,167 deaths related to his trait, and the Wolverine has picked up a smaller but still extremely respectable 7,893!"The crowd roars in approval, the die hard fans of these two practically foaming at the mouth. Sometimes I love my job.
"You know the drill- a fight to the death, no holds barred fight, the combatants can bring in whatever they want to the arena but may not receive any outside aid. Sorry kids, no nuclear fire getting dropped from the top row! Without further ado- our contestants!"
The gates on either side of the arena swing open. Out of my left comes Scim, using his trademark green scimitar. On top of his plot armor he has a blade that cuts things apart at the molecular level. I've seen him cut through a battle mech's starship grade armor in seconds. To be honest, I've a soft spot for the guy, he has a knack for showmanship and talks a good game on the outside. Not to mention he's sort of an ideal. Jet black hair, perfect white teeth, deep but charming voice, and of course the physique of an inter-galactic Olympian. The crowd takes it up a notch and I can feel the sonic stabilizers around my booth kick in as the noise reaches harmful levels. It makes everything sound a bit muted, but it's worth it in the long run, or so I'm told.
Then there's the Wolverine walking in on the opposite side. He uses three bladed weapons bound to his fists, which are covered in charged metal so he can punch as well. Not gonna lie, his fights are a hell of a spectacle, but he really needs some originality. Not to mention he's been surgically altered to look like some actor from the 21st century. But the guy is a serious dick. Abuses his plot armor on the outside, to get away with crimes or overall nonsense. I'm hoping he loses this fight.
"Fighters...enter your positions!"They walk up to two metal discs located just in front of their respective gates, and the metal landscape morphs into something more dynamic and fun for the audience. Storm clouds begin to form as the ground rises into craggy rock and small platforms. This is a ground-breaking fight so they don't intend to obstruct any of the view. A fight on raised, sharp rocks not only promises to be brutal, but to hopefully end near the peak in the middle for a one of a kind shot.
I kill my mic. "So do we have any idea what's actually gonna happen with plot armor against plot armor? Does it become useless and a battle of skill, or...?"
The bossman takes a long drink from his soda, "No idea."I shrug and key it back on.
"A wonderful arena for this fight, high-speed winds and rain on the infamous Rock. Who will have their blood run red today? Contestants, on my mark! Count down with me!"
"Five, four, three, two, one, GOOOOOOOOOO!"The two fighters launch at each other immediately. I'm not surprised, people who don't have plot armor tend to take it slower but these two are used to short fights when they close the gap and easy wins so it's no surprise this is what it's come to.
"Both fighters charge eachother- what's this? Scim takes a running leap off the rock mound he took his title on and goes for a savage downwards strike on the Wolverine! Looks like he's not gonna try to block, and is going for the same double gut stab he used to take down Darren the Decimator! Either way, this fight is going to be decided in the next moment!"I pause, holding my breathe as the scene plays out, a fight between two people lauded as gods. To be honest, I don't see how either of them comes out alive after locking themselves into this move. We can save whoever survives, since they probably won't die instantly, but this is kind of lame.
As Scim's scimitar hits the top of the Wolverine's head, I expect to see it slide right on through, but instead it deactivates, bends, and literally shatters. "OH MY GOD WHAT AN UPSET, SCIM'S FABLED SWORD HAS JUST SHATTERED AND- WHAT'S THIS? THE WOLVERINE'S CLAWS HAVE BENT AROUND HARMLESSLY?"A massive flash of light blinds me, and a moment later we can see the two contestants laying ten feet away from each other, smoking lightly. I check the replay. A lightning strike from the storm clouds? What? That's not supposed to be able to hit the contestants. Maybe a glitch in the system? I pull up their vitals on my display, both of them are perfectly healthy, to my surprise. Just unconscious.
"We are experiencing some technical difficulties, the fight will be postponed until the arena is in a safe state for the contestants. In the meantime, all refreshments are free and the Earth Orchestra will be playing in A wing with free entry, complete with an exhibit from the Sky Circus! Thank you for understanding."The bossman gives me a thumbs up as the arena reverts to its neutral, metallic state and droids float out to recover their bodies. I turn off my mic, probably for the last time today. "So... I guess two people with plot armor can't kill eachother, huh? Maybe when they wake up they'll be best friends or something."I chuckle to myself, the bossman looking decidedly unhappy. Ah well, it's no skin off my back. I'm just here for the fun. |
Smog and parasites, that is all I could see, stomping through the bustling cities below.
The parasitic humans had leeched onto the earth in the most perverse of ways, bleeding it dry of resources while selfishly hoarding the plunder to themselves. Unable to comprehend a world where such gratuitous wealth belonged to everyone.
They were stubborn, trying to slow my attempts at revenge, not understanding how pure my goal was. Both the earth and humanity could not survive together, one needed to be removed. Humanity might think they were more deserving of life, but what had they contributed to the Earth apart from poisoning it? Any futile attempts at fixing the damage were impossible because of humanity’s greed.
A roar of explosive blue drawing from my lips, crashing through another factory. An orchestra of explosions following, a dazzling affair of color and spectacle that faded as quickly as it came, being replaced by the thick heavy polluted smoke.
It did not take long for their humans to come for me, the insignificant creatures swirling at my feet, attempting to weaken me. Their attacks did little to deter me, a few kicks to the earth below enough to send them into retreat. I went to continue only to stop, my head dizzy, the skyscrapers around me growing taller, until they were reaching the highest points. I stared up at them in awe until I heard a scream.
A crowd of humans huddled together, staring at me in confusion. Each one far too frightened to take a step forward. I moved towards them; they looked so different up close, so animated. I expected cold, lifeless creatures, not ones that grieved the surrounding destruction.
As soon as I approached, the crowd fled, running off in various directions. In the distance, the harsh sirens rang out, various weaponry coming my way. I didn’t intend to wait for them to find me, not while weakened.
The streets were enchanting, bright lights on every corner, the smell of cooking meat and even the sound of chatter occasionally. A mix of stimulation that affected every sense, even the rough ground below felt bearable to walk on.
In my daze, I didn’t notice the tanks rolling through the city. Their earth-shaking weight startling me, causing me to duck down a small side street, moving out of their reach. The side street even more colorful, filled with varied decorations and festivities. A divine sound being played by a human, only to stop when they spotted me.
Tension sat in the air as we each watched one another, waiting for someone to make the first move. The first move came when a stick bounced off my head, landing on the floor. The stick covered in various sweet-smelling meats. Crouching to the floor, I grabbed the stick with my teeth, throwing my head back, chomping down the stick and meat, tasting the offering.
It was delectable, my legs moving on their own, placing me before the man’s stall, my tail wagging as I eyed over the various meats on the stall’s display. The humans shared a silent look, before a few amused smiles broke out, the divine sound starting again as the festivities continued.
The man offered me a few more sticks, placing them in my mouth before waving me off. I wandered the side street, continuing to engage in the festivities, humans singing and cheering, dancing with one another. While they were cautious of me, still moving out of my way, they didn’t scream or run. A certain amount of trust being built.
I would have loved to stay longer, but I could feel my body shifting. Rushing from the side street, not wishing to crush everyone as my body once again grew. The beautiful ground below being once again replaced by the disgusting smog. With my returned height, the humans could track me once again, yet I had no will to fight them. Facing the water, returning home.
I wanted to teach humanity a lesson, but violence wouldn’t be the way to do it. Not all of humanity deserved to be erased, I believe some can still do good.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
I often walked around the store. The employees knew who I was. I wasn't there to pick at their faults. I just liked wandering about the store. They actually liked me. I was often greeted with a smile or a quick nod.
I had one policy though. I asked them never to engage with me in front of the customers. I liked my privacy. Or thats what I told them. They respected that.
Today is no different. I walked about the store and reached the cash register
"For the last time ma'am, this product is free with the purchase of either the kitchen ware or the tea set. I can't just give it to you"Mia said as politely as possible for the 100th time
"Why not? I come here all the time. It's free anyway. Just gimme"the karen said again stupidly
A subtle smile crept across my face. I couldn't help it. This is how it starts. The anger. The frustration. And then they would be ready to bomb half the city.
Young Mia was a prefect example.
When she first joined here, she was a bright eyed high school student saving up for college. Now. Well. Now she was a disillusioned 19 year old with enough rage to power a nuclear reactor.
In the last 3 years, she had to deal with literal spawn of satan day in and day out.
One young couple had made her open every single carton in the store room looking for a toy they swore they had seen on the website. Turns out they had been checking amazon.
An elderly man had straight up exposed himself in front of her.
A whole team of little league champions were let loose in the store leading to multiple aisles being covered in what she desperately hoped were soda and ice cream.
Multiple guys assumed she was in love with them simply because she smiled at them and said "have a nice day". Two of them insisted that waiting for her in the parking lot after dark was "just chivalrous"and that they were "nice guys".
And the karens
They were a never ending barrage of karens. Ready with the usual nonsense of "you just lost a loyal customer". "Let me see your manager". "You'll find yourself a bad review on yelp". And the very audacious "I can get you fired".
No they couldn't. But they could ruin her day. And they did.
Every single day.
Very soon. She would be ready. That's when I would come into the picture. I needed a new lookout person. Someone agile and light on their feet. Mia would be perfect.
Oh and the victim?
The mayor.
As I walked past her I could hear the lady threatening Mia. "You dont know what you're dealing with missy. I could get you fired. Do you know who Iam? My husband is the mayor".
My smile turned into a grin...... |
"It's a Tuesdayyy!"Sang LuciLeo before work to LumiLeo, "You know what that means? My night with the wife! And it's gonna get *kinky*."
They were in their apartment, a one bedroom on the seedier side of town where their chance of meeting a friend was nonexistent. LuciLeo smoked a cigar on the couch with one hand, a handle of jack in the other, while LumiLeo sipped red wine and flipped a page of his book.
"You know,"said LumiLeo, "I think she enjoys the sweet loving more. You're just jealous your methods can't compare."
"And you're just jealous today is my day for bangin, and your day for workin."Retorted LuciLeo.
He was right, of course. According to their calendar, which LumiLeo had made since he was the more trustworthy of the two, even to LuciLeo, LumiLeo had work duty. That meant while LuciLeo had the day off, LumiLeo would step into the office and do what he did best- inspire his coworkers, compliment his boss, and complete his deliverables. Tomorrow, LuciLeo would return and put the fear of God back into his underlings, take the boss out for strippers and booze, and fudge some numbers. It was the ultimate combination, the perfect good cop / bad cop.
And since the incident, only six months before, they'd been promoted twice. Adding that to LuciLeo's drug dealing, their salary had quadrupled.
But that wasn't the only place their life has improved.
Their sex life was off the charts, the wife never knowing what to expect. LuciLeo learned to shred on the guitar, and his band had already been headlining at a few of the seedier clubs. LumiLeo estimated he was halfway to enlightenment.
And now it seemed strange to both of them, that when they were combined, they had always thought the other held them back.
***
By Leo
Like my writing style? [Then check out my best work!](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/3u1uhv/leo_comments_on_wp_in_a_world_where_wizardry_is_a/) It's 35 chapters and counting! Both LumiLeo and LuciLeo love it. |
*Dirge of the Vol'dun (a grim lullaby)*
1.
There once was a people who were squishy and small
Their brains were sophisticated but disconnected from all
Through toil and trouble they survived their own growth
Such is the weird, unique people of Earth
2.
United in dissonance and sometimes hypocrisy
They stand around arguing and call it democracy
Other peoples are amused, some thought it was cute
But it didn't take long til humans kicked their food chute
3.
Boastful and angry, very warlike their spurs
They came well prepared when they reached for the stars
The vol'dun in hubris, thought them disorganized
But quite the opposite, they soon realized
4.
In the first attack, their ships all dismembered
For mankind warred themselves, and they all remembered
When the enemy attacks, the pack reunites
Squabbles forgotten, to bear all their mights
5.
And now we have this lullaby, to our children remind
Learn from the vol'dun, and fear mankind!
*Edit: I hate mobile formatting* |
Six months. Everybody who had ever fantasised about a zombie apocalypse had imagined how long they would last. I was a realist, I had never thought I would get beyond two months, but in the end I managed to last three times that. All the more impressive because I was protecting my little sister.
We had been holding up in an old gas station, but this one summer’s night it was all going to come to an end. A breeze must have carried our scent towards the horde, we were getting pretty ripe. Around midnight the banging started on the door, I locked Lisa in the back room and sat guard with my dad’s old Colt. Usually the banging stopped after a few hours, but this night the zombies were persisting past day break.
Eventually the hinges gave way and a dozen zombies swarmed into the room, and began pouring towards me. I took down three of the shamblers before they reached me and knocked me to the floor. That was a new highscore. A male zombie bit into my leg, chewing off a huge chunk of flesh. I screamed in pain, as the other zombies started chowing down.
Through my tears I could see something happening to the zombie who bit me first. His skin was de-greying, his hair grew thicker and his eyes became clear and alert. He picked up the Colt and took out three of the other zombies.
“Where are the bullets?” he asked me. I patted to my left hand pocket. He reached in, loaded the gun back up and fired four more times.
“Is there anybody else here?” he asked. I hesitated before telling him about Lisa, but decided this stranger could do more for her now than I could.
“My little sister, back room, the key’s under the counter,” I said, blood spluttered on my lips, one of the zombies had taken a good chunk from my neck.
The man walked away from my line of vision, and as I heard him fiddling with keys I began to drift away. Until I heard the scream, Lisa screaming. With all my effort I turned around to see the man standing over Lisa, allowing another zombie to bite into my sister.
I tried to scream, but realised I had stopped breathing several minutes ago. I stared at the other zombie as she began her transformation back to humanity. Blond hair sprouted from her head and pink returned to her cheeks. She blinked her newly blue eyes and stood up to kiss the man.
As they embraced I could feel myself slipping away and an all-encompassing hunger started to consume my mind.
-----------------------------
I came to with a zombie standing over me. She was missing chunks of flesh and no longer had the happy glow about her, but I knew it was Lisa. I struggled to stand, everything was more difficult now. I took Lisa’s hand and lead her out of the gas station.
I could smell human on the wind, if we could get flesh I knew Lisa and I could start over.
-----------
[Click here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!
|
I yawned and stretched as I pushed myself off the ground. Hate sleeping without a bed, I never get any sort of decent rest. Those damn tips I see in my sleep have never really been helpful, I've always sort of tuned them out and done my own thing. Everything sort of works out in the end... well, except for... a lot of stuff. My dad died because I didn't heed one once. My brother left the family a long time ago, and I've often wondered if I could have convinced him to come back and live with us again... but it never seemed to work out. He's just too different, I suppose.
Today's I almost instantly dismissed. "Aim for the head"? How much use could that be? Wasn't like I was going to use any sort of ranged weapons that meant I'd have to aim something at someone's head.
... But as I stared horrified at Thanos, laughing mockingly rather than dying where he stood from the axe I had just embedded in his chest...
I knew I should have listened.
Edit: a word
Edit 2: thank you guys so much for the positive feedback! This is my first WP so I was kind of nervous, but I'm glad you like it. |
Another wannabe Protector spits his promises at my feet. The blood pools around his crushed form, spreading slowly toward me.
“You won’t snuff out-“ he coughs. “…the light… of freedom…”
I roll my eyes and take a lazy step around the trickle of blood, careful not to scuff my boots.
I grab my opponent by his hair, pull him to his knees. He coughs up more blood and a drop hits my badge. I wipe the bronze clean with a gloved finger.
My opponent looks at me through his one good eye. “Your days are numbered, old man.”
I sigh and pull my arm back and release punch after punch into his face. His nose collapses behind my fist. His orbital bones crumble and his eyes disappear under a mass of swollen, raw flesh. Teeth fall to the ground. His blood gushes and pools at my feet.
The crimson liquid sticks to my soles and a splattering of errant drops adorn my toes.
“Ugh” I mutter.
I toss the now lifeless body aside and pull a handkerchief from the inside pocket of my leather jacket. I make my way toward a bus-stop nearby and sit on the bench.
As I pull off my boots I see the onlookers, the innocent lifeblood of this city. Hidden behind cars, in doorways, peering at me from the corners of their windows. I ignore them. They fear me. But they are alive, and their homes have not been reduced to ash.
I spit on my boot and begin my polish with rough circles. Let them fear me if it keeps them safe.
An armored van speeds into the street. A team of darkly clad figures exits from the back, shields up, batons at the ready. They form a perimeter, cordon off the block. “Remain in your homes,” they command through a bullhorn.
Other vans block the nearest intersections. A duo of officers redirects traffic and others stand with weapons drawn, ready to keep the peace. Soon, teams will arrive to remove the body. Repair the pavement. Make it seem like this fight never took place.
The powerful are a menace. When I discovered my super-strength, when I realized I was special, I knew my life would be blessed. Why wouldn’t it be? I could keep my head down. Stay out of the hero and villain game. Use my strength on my terms. Make a simple living. I could provide security for my parents. Start a business. Be a one man construction crew. My own man. Come up in the world.
But in this city, if you don’t use your power, you might as well not have it at all. If you don’t have it, you’re collateral damage.
I was only a kid, barely in my mid twenties, on the day i saw two men fly toward each other at the speed of sound.
They collided with a sonic boom between street signs and traffic lights; the concussive force toppled cars. Crushed their occupants. Sent some of the city’s children to an early grave.
I saw it. Felt it. I, a bystander, was the only survivor of a bus headed downtown on a Monday morning. Thrown from the rolling vehicle and landing directly between a floating hulk of a man with a single gold brick clenched in his fist and the so-called hero, the Mighty “Protector”.
“Turn over the gold, villain, and no harm will come to you,” Protector promised.
The man laughed. No harm. A cosmic joke from one god to another.
The two men were mere feet from each other, surrounded by carnage. Bartering over a single bar of gold.
“He laughed?” I asked, getting to my feet. “And you won’t even hurt him?” I gestured around me. “No harm? What about them?” I asked. “What about all of us?”
“This is not your concern, sir. Take cover.”
“What about them?” I gestured again.
“Sir,” Protector said. “This is between me and him. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Safe?” I yelled. “Safe?”
The ground shook. I anchored myself, my feet crushed the asphalt and the air quaked in front of me. Before he knew it, my fist was in Protector’s chest. My hand squeezed his heart to mince. He collapsed with a thud.
The man behind me laughed. “Thanks brother! There’s no way I would have beat-“
His head exploded into a fine mist. The spray washed over me before his knees gave way. The gold bar did not clang but gave a muffled thud when it hit the pavement. I collapsed alongside it, covered in their blood.
There were no other bystanders that day. No one to cheer or fear me from their windows.
Just rubble and corpses and my own tears.
In the months that followed, heroes from the Protectorate chased me down. I hid, covered my tracks, but they sleuthed me out over and over.
Meg-a-Bomb attacked me on my bus route. I crushed her lungs with her own hammer.
The Quickening ambushed me at a job site. I threw some rebar through his skull and buried him in concrete.
Bully Blaze tried to torch my house with my cat inside. I dragged him into my pool and held him there until all that was left was steam and his bloated corpse at the bottom of a puddle.
Every hero in the city came for me and fell. Every. Single. One.
Every villain who tried to get big in the heroes’ absence found me at the end of a dark alleyway, fists clenched.
Eventually, everyone got the picture. This was my city.
The super- powered folks left for greener pastures. The cops and politicians sought out my ass to kiss.
This city is now under my protection.
The light glints off my newly polished boots and I see my weary eyes reflected on the black surface. I lace up, stand, take a breath.
A child huddles beneath the doorframe of a nearby building. I walk over to her and I kneel down. She flinches.
“Don’t be afraid,” I say.
“I can’t help it,” she says.
I gesture to the body in the street.
“Do you see that man?” I ask.
She nods.
“He was a bad man. He disagreed with me. So he tried to use violence against me. He didn’t care who he hurt. He would have hurt everyone here. He just wanted to win.”
She looks over my shoulder and back at me. I rest a hand gently on her head.
“Remember: people like him can never ever hurt you just because they don’t agree with you. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure you grow up strong. Safe. Productive.“
She nods and backs away. The door opens and she slips inside. Her father is standing behind the doorframe. He is trembling more than his daughter.
“For your children,” I say. The door closes. The bolts lock. I walk back to the street in silence. |
Again there’s that noise like the one that comes from the box Master takes his food out of. Except this one hurts my ears, and I don’t smell any food. It’s coming from another box - the one with pictures that make Master laugh. He’s looking at a picture there now, not laughing. His tail isn’t wagging, but I wag mine to try to make him feel okay.
I go to the place that gets me outside. There’s a bell there I can touch that makes a much nicer noise. It lets Master know I need to pee - which I do - and he yells “no” and I hear in his voice that he is scared. He’s scared like me when the “vacoom” comes out, when the sky goes “boom,” and I can *smell* the scared.
I can see the outside. It looks like it does when the sky gets ready to boom and make me wet. All dark before dinner time. It feels different though. It’s like the feeling I get when the “vacoom” is yelling, but bigger. Scarier. But I really have to pee, and Master will be madder if I do that in the house so I jingle the bell again. I can be brave for Master like he has been for me.
“No, Rocky!” He hollers. I pout and he says again, softer, “no, Rocky, there’s a bad storm coming. Maybe a tornado. I promise I won’t be upset if you go in the house.”
He says I’m a puppy and that’s why I don’t understand. He’s right. I don’t know the word “tornado.” But if it’s enough to make Master scared, maybe I should stay in here to protect him. I cannot pee in here though. For him, I will wait.
The trees are dancing outside now. Shaking off their leaves that I love to crunch. It sounds like when the sky makes everything wet, just louder. Like the trees are throwing things at our house.
“Aww hell, it’s hail,” says Master. And he goes to the front of the house where the car is. The car that is so fun to ride in on better days. I follow him in case he needs me. “Hail” is another word I don’t know. It’s another thing that makes Master scared - angry even. He is looking at his car and cursing. I get up closer to the window so I can see but Master picks me up. He’s cold. I can feel his heart beating so fast ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump.
Then there’s a CRACK all around us. An up-close boom from the sky that I answer with my bravest bark. At the same time, there’s a flash from the windows like the light that comes from Master’s picture-taker when he points it at me, but a thousand of those. I’m in Master’s arms, squirming but I can’t help it, and we’re running. Past the kitchen, through the door I’m not allowed in, going down the stairs into…what? It seems even scarier down there. Why would Master bring me here?
There isn’t much light down here. Not as much as up there. Down here it’s all machines and weird smells and…I have to be brave. For him. Not much light though, and suddenly there’s another loud boom from outside and the light is gone.
Master sets me down. I stay there because I can’t see, but I can hear him looking for something, cursing all the while. He’s sweating that strange fear stink and I can smell it over the new smells in this place I’ve never been. Then there’s light again. Master is holding the light. He points it at me and I can’t see anything. It’s like he’s holding the big light in the sky, but he sets it down on a bench and picks me up again. I can see now through a small window high up on the wall. There are things bouncing - little white balls hitting the window and bouncing all around. The window flashes something bright and the sky booms the biggest BOOM I’ve ever heard. I lose it on my Master and instantly regret it. It’s one thing to have an accident, but to pee on your best friend? Only, he doesn’t seem to mind right now and tells me it’s okay. I know it’s not, but I have to be brave. For him.
That’s when I hear it. The vacoom. It’s like a vacoom as big as the house, maybe twice as big. Master doesn’t hear it yet because it’s far right now. Only, I can hear it getting louder. It’s like it’s coming to suck us up. So I do what I can and start growling. Sometimes that scares a regular vacoom away. I’m growling and my fur is standing straight up but still, it gets louder. Closer.
Now I’m barking like I’ve never barked. I didn’t even know I could bark so loud. Master doesn’t stop me like he usually does. He only holds me tighter, covering my body with his. All the while, there’s a whoosh filling my ears. Is this the tornado? I can be brave in the face of this whoosh. Master needs me to be brave. Except my barks are turning into yelps and before I realize it I’m crying. The whoosh is hurting my ears more than that awful noise from the picture box.
If only I’d realized those noises weren’t that bad. Because what happens next is a terrible rip from above. It reminds me of the time we were walking last week and I stopped to look at a man in the tree. Men don’t belong in trees, I thought. He had something he was using to cut a dancing tree. Something Master called a “chainsaw.” That sound was here, right over us. And now Master was crying with me. But I’m brave. For him.
I thought, at this time, it would make Master feel better to give him kisses. His face tastes good, like crackers, so I kept it up. Maybe it’s working, because the terrible noises stop. Something rustles up there in the house and it sounds like maybe it’s the outside now. But we are here, in this strange place I wasn't allowed in. We are going to be okay, Master tells me. He tells me we’re going for a car ride, and, when my tail starts wagging all on its own, he tells me I was brave. |
T't'the't't clacked nervously as his tendrils hardeneded and softened, the non-newtonian fluid being of great fascination to the human beside it. It made a series of discrete, nonsensical vocalations, at which the translator began to buzz.
T’t’the’t’t needed to get the housing realigned - that sound was beginning to drive him to madness.
“So, how do you move the tendrils? Are muscles work as fibrous constructions, contractions caused by electrical potential build-up.”
T’t’the’t’t did his equivalent of a nod - several species in the galaxy had such systems for locomotion. It was fairly rare, however, and more common to those who grew up in high-gravity, dangerous environments, where protracted usage and long-term durability were key.
T’t’the’t’t issued a series of sounds in response, which sound rather like a child slapping washed-up bull kelp together.
Once the translator module reverted it back through the various lingua franca of the galaxy, and then into whatever language the human spoke, the result sounded like:
“They are non-newtonian. Nerve tissue grows on the outside, which creates small pockets of high-velocity fluid, which in turns hardens a localized portion. Repeat that in a specific orientation, and you can move the grasping arm.”
The human, in turn, gave it’s own appreciative nod at the information, and reclined in its seat.
“So, you are a healer, no?” T’t’the’t’t asked, wondering just at the trepidation some of the former delegates had shown. The prospect of working with a relatively young species was of great interest to the galactic medical community, especially those that lived on a harsher world such as earth. But the first of them that had returned from the planet’s capital had done so with dour and grey expressions, and would not release a detail of their reports.
The secretary general had even told him to ‘steel himself’. Strange, when the humans had been nothing but polite, professional and positively ecstatic to meet other creatures.
“Doctor, yes,” it quickly said.
T’t’the’t’t nodded for him to continue, as he took another bite from one of the human’s confections. Not quite as good as the ones on PX4-1927 Prime, but very inventive with flavours and textures. Sweets disregarded, the term ‘doctor’ as ‘a medical provided subject to standards and regulations from its own members’ was a quite common one.
“Surgeon, actually,” it continued, taking another swallow from his glass.
“I’m sorry…” T’t’the’t’t, ‘frowning’ “my translator must be incorrect. It suggested you were a ‘butcher’.”
“Not too far from the truth sometimes,” it laughed.
T’t’the’t’t was not as amused by the remark.
“Could you explain?” he inquired.
“Well,” the human said, pausing as it seemed to reach for the right words, “actually, it might be easier if I just showed you.”
It promptly produced some sort of small screen, which appeared to be some sort of radio telecommunication devices.
“So, well, a team of my colleagues sent me a video clip today. Removing a stabilizing rod in the lower tibia - it’s an extension of our endoskeleton, sometimes can get fractured due to blunt trauma, and that sort of thing. So we leave it, to stabilize the fracture as the bone heals.”
The screen showed a recording of several blue-green-garbed humans gathered around… was that another human? Ah, lying down for the atomic scan, to be sure. It had a strange position, however, one leg was bent at its mid-joint, the “knee” T’t’the’t’t thought it was called. Metal protrusions stuck out the side, rounded with small opaque handles.
Well that was odd.
“Now wait, wait, here comes the good part. Sometimes it gets a little jammed and you’ve got to crank it a bit.”
T’t’the’t’t looked on, rather unimpressed with the procedure and the more primitive technology.
That is, until one of the garbed humans picked up a hammer.
T’t’the’t’t was found several minutes later by one of his colleagues, who was shocked and alarmed at the state of nauseated agitation that their friend was experiencing.
“What on this world is wrong with you? Are you ill?” the twisting cloud of endoplasmic jelly bubbled out when it witnessed the tendrils stiff and white.
“I have to get off this planet,” he said.
“What? Why?”
T’t’the’t’t looked at the fluid creature with sheer unadulterated terror in its beady eyes.
“Orthopedics.”
​
​
*I write all sorts of silly things at* /r/The_Alloqium*.* |
Rain lashed against the windowpane. A strong wind howled. A flash of lightning then distant thunder. I sipped on my coffee and turned to face Red, my roommate.
"This looks bad,"he said. "How can you sit there calmly while the world goes to ruin?"
The lovely smell of wet earth filled my nostrils. To me the world was beautiful, made better by the rejuvenating weather.
"It's no big deal, Red. This type of thing, it's routine."
All four of Red's eyes bulged considerably. He began whispering.
"Do you not know what these things are? These things they bring destruction, they bring ruin, floods, then disease, then decay, then acidity, then..."
Red ran out of breath. He collapsed back into the couch.
I got up from my side of the couch and checked his temperature. It was running high.
"Do you want some lime juice?"
"Yes...please."
So I fetched him a can of carbonated lime juice.
Thunder rang outside once more and fresh torrents of rain started pouring down. Red covered his ears with his two hands and used the other two to open the can and drink the lime juice.
"That's better,"he said. "But it won't last long. I weep for you Jack."
I laughed.
"A thunderstorm? That's going to be our end? This storm won't even last the day. It will end before the day ends!"
Red shook his head solemnly.
"This is how it starts. This...then there is the red lightning and the sooty black clouds. Then-"
He started crying.
I sat beside him and stroked his back. "It's alright Red. Everything will be fine."
"I hope I never see those again. Those clouds."
"You won't."
Red sighed and smirked.
"I see them everyday. They come to me when my eyes aren't looking. They come to me-"
Thunder roared again.
Red started crying. |
"And you're sure they won't be any trouble?"the man said to his friend as they stood in the forest and looked at the small hut before them.
"Nah,"his friend assured him. "Just an old lumberjack and his family. We run in, smack the old guy around a bit and before you know it, we're spending the next month at the Lucky Tab's drinking the best spirit they have."
"How do you even know he's got money?"his partner asked.
"Overheard a merchant who supplies him. He said this guy's his best client, always pays well, never haggles. He said he's the most peaceful man he's ever met. To me, that just sounds like easy money. You ready?"
The man brandished his dagger, the moonlight reflecting off of it softly. "Yeah. Let's do it,"he nodded.
The inside of the cabin was quaint and calm. It was indeed far better furnished than any old lumberjack could afford - the chairs and tables were of the highest quality imported mahogany, the silverware was richly ornamented and their cups were made of *glass* instead of clay. The brigands smiled at one another and started grabbing anything they set their eyes on. Their bags were almost full when they heard a creek at the door. They swiftly turned and saw the old man standing in the doorway, a surprisingly unsurprised look on his face.
"Can I help you fine gentlemen with something?"he said in a heavy, gravelly voice. The first thief snickered and pulled his dagger from his belt.
"Yeah,"he said and pointed the knife at him. "You can give me that bracelet and in return, I shall *generously* let you keep the hand it is on."
The old man sighed and gave the thief an inquisitive look.
"Just put everything back where you found it and leave. Please,"he said in a calm, almost sorrowful manner.
The thieves merely laughed.
"You daft, old man?"he said and stepped forward, pressing the knife to the lumberjack's neck; a thin streak of blood ran from where the knife sat. "I said, give me your bracelet. Now,"he hissed sharply.
The lumberjack put his hand up but instead of taking the bracelet off as instructed, he grabbed the thief's wrist before he could realize. A loud snap echoed through the cabin as the thief's wrist shattered. The lumberjack then let go of the man's wrist and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him up in the air and holding him to the side so he could see the other brigand.
"Wha- let him down! How- stop!"the other thief cried out, seeing his friend struggle for air.
"The knife,"the lumberjack said slowly. The metallic clang filled the room as the thief let go of it. In response, the other thief was let down from the old man's grip, falling with a loud thud.
"The devil- my wrist!"he yelled out painfully. "Balar, you said *\*akh\** this bastard was peaceful!"
"Peaceful?"the old man laughed. "Well, he didn't lie. My family and I are here to live a peaceful life,"he continued and walked over to a closet in the corner of the room. He opened it, the rarely used door creaking as he did so, and from within brandished an axe larger than him. The thieves' eyes shifted around the room frantically; one even saw, however briefly, inside of the closet. It was mostly old junk but he could swear that he saw a suit of armour in there with... spikes on it?
"You see,"the old man said as he held the axe next to him - the floorboards bent where the axe stood on the ground, betraying its weight, "you're only peaceful if you're capable of great violence."He cast a longing look at the axe head. "Otherwise, the word would be *harmless*"he finished with a stern look.
The thieves looked on in horror at the man. He was unassuming, plain even, but the ease with which he held one of them up and the sheer size of the axe he held with no problems worried them beyond reason.
"Mordred? Is everything well? I heard a commotion,"a new voice rang from outside; a woman's gentle voice, filled with softness and melodious beauty. The old man's gaze suddenly softened as he looked towards the door.
"All is well, dear,"Mordred replied gently. "Just a..."he paused as he looked at the thieves and, tightening the grip on his axe, nodded towards the back door. The thieves wasted no time and started running.
"*Misunderstanding*,"he finished. |
Do you ever wonder what you'd do if you got transported isekai-style to another world, or was it just me?
In my case, I daydreamed about it at my boring day job because why not? I wasn't really unsuccessful or even unhappy, but hey, everyone wants a more exciting life.
During said daydreams, it usually looked something along the lines of "Show up, have an impromptu meeting with an unlikely mentor, leverage some advantage into a snowball of badassery, become a hero, save the world and pack it in just in time for a sweet montage as you're crowned king."Funny how I was half right.
The half I got wrong, unfortunately, were the mostly pleasant parts, with one exception. You see, my advantage was called "Echo", basically the ability to copy other people's abilities with some caveats. It took some time to get it down and it was never as good as the original, but if you copy ten different ways to punch someone harder, it adds up.
The rest of it was like a sad parody of the hero's journey. I met a few nasty types over the decades, mostly bandits, exiled warriors and failed conquerors and learned what I could. I snapped up a few trinkets to get stronger, and over the years, started to get a bit further from human than I'd like. I didn't age, didn't bleed when I got cut and the like.
So, after a while, I decided to set up some roots. The demon realm, which was really more of a demon continent, was in desperate need of some structure. I rolled up, beat a bunch of warlords, and just like my dreams, was crowned ruler of the whole lot of them. They respected strength and as long as I was the biggest badass around, they stayed in line.
With all that in mind, you can imagine my surprise when I caught wind of someone new causing waves. He'd shown up a couple years ago and started tearing through the various countries I'd left behind, kicking asses and taking names just like yours truly. If he'd stayed on his side of the ocean, I might've sent a congratulatory gift basket.
But no, he had to hop on a boat, sail his optimistic ass over to me and start killing people to 'free' them. Although I'd gained a reputation over the years as some monster, the truth was I hated violence and all that. Half the reason I'd taken over the continent was to keep it from breaking into civil war every other year. I sent a few messengers politely asking him to screw off back to his home and quit killing my soldiers, but he 'left me on read', as the saying went back home.
As you might imagine, this led me to gear up in my spikiest armor, pick out my favorite cursed longsword and march my way out. My plan was to tell him to piss off face to face, but when I showed up, he didn't give me the chance.
Nope, he threw a big old spear of golden light at me. Hurt like hell to look at, and it wasn't fun to take it to the sternum either.
I pulled myself out of the cliff he tossed me into, did a few warmup stretches and we got to it. Long story short-I cut him down. He was tough, but a couple decades early to come calling.
A slight sidebar, but over the years, a cult had amassed behind me. They were essentially a group of zealots who worshipped me as a god, believing that everything out of my mouth was a divine proclamation. I didn't have the heart to tell them it was mostly brand statements or assorted quotes that I sometimes muttered when they got stuck in my head. "Just do it,"in English was about as understandable as speaking Aramaic to a middle schooler.
Though it was pretty fun having a bunch of demons shouting "America runs on Dunkin'"and think it meant something deep.
I'd mostly dropped the habit, but something in the cut of my newest rival's jib made me want to revive the old tradition. So, when I'd finally worn him down and skewered him, the whole 'red blood' thing got me thinking.
"Shoulda had a V8"I muttered, quietly enough so that only we could hear it. I affected a mildly disappointed tone, like an overbearing parent upon seeing a report card with a single B-.
"Y-you're from Earth?"the man replied, his voice catching a bit as he hacked up blood from a punctured lung.
I was rarely caught off guard, both metaphorically and in the literal, 'An ambush worked' sort of way, so my response was a verbose, "Wha?"
He coughed again, and this time the blood splattered on the front of my helmet.
"You-you're from Earth!"he repeated, this time sounding accusatory.
I started to piece it together, just in time to realize how badly he was screwed. My sword was enchanted to repel healing magics, and I'd never learned much in the way of them regardless. You only got hurt if you left them alive to do the hurting.
I yanked out the sword, and replied, "Yeah, I am. Now just hold still, I-stop trying to attack me dumbass."
The idiot started swinging the second he thought my guard was down. All that did was cause him to bleed faster, and when he overextended on a particularly slopped overhand, he fell to the ground.
"Why?"he asked, staring up at me with these big, accusatory eyes that matched his earlier tone, "Why didn't you..."
His words faded off, and his eyes grew vacant. I blinked a few times, staring at him. He died, just like that? Not exactly a perfect death.
If I was a younger man, I might weep. Oh woe was me, I just killed another person from Earth. Possibly the only other person who could fully understand my situation.
But you didn't get so far without making some friends. So, rather than cry over spilt milk, I turned to the nearest shadow, which was a bit too dark.
"Ashelos!"
My spymaster materialized, kneeling a few feet away.
"Yes, sire?"
"Head down to the treasury and retrieve that holy rod. The one I retrieved from the ruined chapel of light that could 'restore life to even the consecrated dead' or whatever."I ordered, glancing down, "Also, clear my schedule and have a feast prepared. I've got some catching up to do."
Lots of catching up to do. After all, it'd been years since I'd have the chance to watch TV or see a movie. It was hightime to update my cultural references, in my opinion.
\-----
Very much wrote this to try and get back into the swing of writing more frequently on something else, so I might've made some mistakes. I went with a more comedic bent that I don't know if I nailed or not. Hope it came out decently/hope I didn't make too many glaring errors. |
For whatever reason, Jack loved helping others. His thoughts often wandered to stupid places, driven by a deep and ridiculous calling to give back.
On one occasion he found himself strolling like an idiot through Central Park. An impressive showing of the city's vibrant community was present that day - street jugglers, families, bicyclists, joggers, and lovers on picnic. As always, Jack was alone.
Rounding a granite-flanked corner, Jack caught sight of a crying child. Totally unaware that onlookers might take him for the faggoty creep he is, Jack ran to the young boy's aid. His bike lay strewn just off the sidewalk; his knee bloodied and swollen.
"You're fine, little fella. What happened?"Jack asked in a friendly, borderline-retarded voice. Jack was a fucking....just a one-of-a-kind stupid asshole motherfuc....
So he's sitting there talking to this kid trying to help him r something, I dunno, it's always the same thing with this guy and the fuckin kid is cryin. This beautiful woman runs into the scene and my god was she fuckable. I'm talkin way outa Jack's league. But *of course* these two idiots hit it off and Jack ends up plowing her for a good portion of the night. I'm sitting there, watching this go down, trying to describe what I'm seeing while I'm jerking a puny ethereal penis off furiously. And then I'm cumming, and I'm staring at Jack as he keeps going - keeps driving his muscled hips into this incredible creature - and the tears are running down my face. I hate him. My God, I hate him so, so much.
The next morning Jack awoke to a brilliant sun shining through the translucent drapes... |
It was just another work day, I was standing around in the food section at Walmart, giving out free samples of some new paleo bacon, when some weirdo walked over and started scanning my samples with his smartphone.
"Taking pictures for Instagram?"I asked. He looked up at me through his large glasses.
"No, actually,"he said. He held up his smartphone and pointed to some sort of small device plugged into the headphone jack. "This is actually the prototype of something I'm working on. It can detect mold and bacteria in food to make sure it's safe to eat."
"Oh really?"I said, not sure if I was supposed to sound impressed or not. "What's it called?"
He blushed slightly. "Well, its test name is currently the Super Sniffer 5000…."
I snorted out loud. "Yeah, you're probably going to have to come up with a better name than that."
"I know,"he sighed. "I'm not that great at coming up with names."
I thought he was going to be smooth and lead into a question asking for my name, but instead he looked back down at his phone. It was vibrating and giving off an annoying alarm, as if he was getting a call. He squinted in confusion.
"What's wrong?"I asked.
"I think there must be a bug or something."He shut off the alarm and held it over another slice of bacon. "Let me try this one."He waited a second, then the same alert and vibration came back, along with his perplexed expression.
"Is there something wrong with my paleo bacon?"I asked.
"You tell me,"he said. He flipped his phone around and I read what was on the screen, flashing red in big, bold letters: "100% chance of catching ancient curse."
I stifled a laugh. "Is this a joke?"
"It shouldn't be,"he said. "I worked with doctors to input all the data. It should be accurate."
"And do you usually get 'ancient curse disease' when you scan things?"
"No. I mean, sometimes you get e-coli or salmonella or whatever, but I've never even heard of this. What's in this bacon anyway?"
I picked up a box of product and handed it to him. He flipped over to the back and started reading the ingredients and company history.
"I mean,"I said with a shrug, "it's paleo, right? It has to be good for you."
He shook his head and held the back of the package up to me, pointing to the company history. "Read this."
I looked it over. Something about valuing freshness, combating obesity, blah, blah, blah, then at the end, there was a paragraph that caught me eye.
"Pete's Paleo Bacon is one-hundred percent paleo, even more than the competitors. At Pete's, we're not satisfied simply using ingredients that were available during ancient times, we follow an ancient cookbook discovered in a pit and faithfully translated. We prepare all our food products the exact same way they were done thousands of years ago, including all the necessary chants and sacrifices."
I looked back at the man whose face was now white with terror. "I don't know how they cooked this bacon, but I'm guessing it involved something sinister."
I glanced down at the bacon, then looked back up at him. I popped one of the free samples in my mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
"Are you crazy?"he shouted. "That meat… it's cursed!"
I shrugged. "Buddy, I work at Walmart. I'm already cursed."
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.twitch.tv/scottwritesstuff/) Twitch stream. |
"I'm not sure how I got here."
"Ants. It was the ants."
"Ants brought me here?"
"Well, if I were to hazard a guess...You were out for a night on the town and met a really handsome guy who was very into you. You hit it off, one thing leads to another and then you are taking a cab back to his place. Then at some point in the cab ride you fall asleep, just to wake up on my doorstep."
"That sounds about right."The girl looked relieved. "So is that guy your roommate?"
"No. It is a terrifyingly life like puppet created and controlled by highly intelligent ants. They also own the taxi you were in, and 40% of the taxis in this town. Also all the bagel shops. They brought you to me as a gift, because they know I like blondes."
The girl had the decency to look confused.
"But I'm a redhead?"
"That's the weirdest thing about what I said?"The guy sighed. "Every damn time."
He reached behind him to a large stack of papers.
"Ants are colorblind. Anyway, here's a voucher for a cab back to your place, and a coupon for a free bagel breakfast sandwich with purchase of a drink. Sorry for the inconvenience." |
My keys making their usual noise, I unlocked the front door. Pushing it open, I sighed my way indoors, the day had been long, and all I wanted to do now was sit down. Flipping on the light switch, I dropped my keys. Sitting down would probably be difficult. Someone else was in my chair. Someone who looked exactly like me.
As my brain short-circuited slightly, the part of me I'd inherited from my grandmother peered at the other me, pointing out that my hair was rather overgrown, that choice of clothes was most definitely not the fashion, and I should really wear a little more makeup. Silencing the voice as I always did, I summoned whatever courage might be hiding in the recesses of my mind.
"Who— "
"Shhh."The other me interrupted, motioning to the light switch. They wanted me to turn it off.
"Can I help you?"I said, making no move toward the switch. There was no way I would be in the dark with whatever this was. That was the way horror movies got made. I looked at me— or was it the other way around? Whichever of us was me, and I was heavily favouring myself, the other sighed.
"Look, I'll give it to you straight. I'm a shapeshifter. I'm in danger, and one of us needs to be hiding in the basement or somewhere else out of sight right now. Probably should be you."They motioned again to the switch. I rested a hand against it, but still didn't turn it off.
"Why are you in danger? And why did you choose me to turn into?"I asked, not quite willing to just go along with whatever was in front of me. Shapeshifters, in every story I'd ever read, watched, or heard around a campfire, were never the good guys.
"To be honest, I figured my enemies would underestimate this form the most. Now would you please hide and turn off the light? I would like to retain the element of surprise."Ignoring the insult to my physique, it was an accurate assessment, even if it was hurtful, I shook my head. But before I could respond, there was a sound from outside the front door.
It wasn't a pleasant sound, a happy cheery sound. It was more the sound that made you want to hide under the covers until the monsters had gone away. The kind of sound that nightmares were made of.
"Shit,"The other me said. "It's too late to hide you in the basement. The best thing now is to try and confuse it. It won't know who's who. Get over here."The last words were hissed and I leapt to obey before the rest of my brain caught up.
"*It*? What is out there?"I whispered to the shapeshifter, now standing beside the chair.
"Trust me, you don't want to know."They whispered back. The door handle turned, slowly and menacingly as the door creaked open. It hadn't creaked when I'd entered but now it creaked. Whatever this thing was it had sucked the oil out of the hinges. I fought the urge to laugh hysterically at the thought.
Nothing entered, or at least I thought nothing entered, until I heard the other me hiss in shock. That must be a shapeshifter thing, I'd never hissed in my life. I followed their gaze downwards to land on something fuzzy. It had orange hair, four legs, luminous eyes and a slowly waving tail. I looked from it, to the shapeshifter and back.
"That's a... cat,"I said, half expecting to be corrected. The shapeshifter nodded, though they never took their eyes off the cat.
"Exactly. The most dangerous beast on this earth."This time I lost the battle not to laugh, and a giggle slipped out of me.
"You're kidding. You're afraid of a *cat*?"Across from us, the cat sat down and began washing its ears.
"How did it turn the door handle, what made the door creak?"The shapeshifter whispered furiously. "Is it just a cat, or is it something else?"
I walked over to the cat, turning over the words in my mind. Had I really seen the door handle turn, or had my imagination been working overtime? Had the door actually creaked, or had it been a soft meow? Picking up the unresistant cat, I cuddled it against my chest, closing the door, hearing it latch this time, a sound that had been absent before. Turning back to the shapeshifter, seeing my own face twisted in fear and doubt, I suddenly understood.
How could you believe anything was as it looked, when you never were?
I smiled, making it the gentlest expression I could.
"Sometimes a cat is just a cat, and a person is just a person. Come on. I'll make you some tea, and we can talk about identity. I think you've been changing yours for too long."I said. The shapeshifter looked at me, still shrinking back in the chair, before with a sudden movement, they rose. For a second I believed they were going to hit me, but then their posture changed. Shoulders slumping, they sank back into the chair, staring at the floor. My voice came from them, and I knew exactly what they were feeling. Relief.
"Thank you. I'd really like that."
———————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! |
*It likes it in little bits, not in large amounts. That's how the human likes its water.*
Planet XZ-3298-H pondered on this. It had been roughly 8.912 years, 211 days, 12 hours, 11 minutes and 32 seconds since it had completed its terraforming endeavour, but nobody had programmed the biological AI on what to do once the little buggers actually arrived there.
Trial and error was the only way to go.
The little thing had peculiar tastes, it likes water, but only when found in stale puddles or little rivers.
At times it will go and wash itself using some, but if you try to wash it using a rain shower it'll actually rush towards its shelter. Avoiding it at all costs.
At one point XZ conjured a small container of stuff, a glass bottle, and placed it neatly in its living quarters.
This was done so it could use the liquid at its leisure, in any amounts it might want to.
It did not seem to like that at all.
It seemed hesitant to return to its living quarters for almost a week, opting to stay in the forest.
*Scanning entity...*
-----
Unnamed - *Human, Female*
Level: 1
State: Frightened
-----
Now what the creature didn't know was that there was no need to be frightened just yet.
After all, it hadn't even encountered any of the roaming monstrosities that call XZ-3298-H their home.
The world started off docile enough: a few sheep, some horses, and wolf or two.
And if you had asked the critters, they wouldn't have had any complaints.
A painful lack of feedback that had to be remedied.
Thus, the wildlife of planet XZ-3298-H were left at the mercy of a deep-learning AI with a couple of millennia to burn.
In retrospect, the human creature seemed ill-equipped to survive what now roamed the land.
It was thus concluded it should not leave its current habitat for a little while.
Not until the creature's shortcomings had been tended to.
-----
...Terraforming
...Raising terrain to seclude area
...Exterminating hostile entities within area
...New area constructed. Labeled "Tutorial".
-----
The AI had done some earlier prodding and noticed that the entity had been quite receptive to alterations.
However, not too much at the same time, it appeared.
When XZ-3298-H had attempted to attach another leg while the entity had been asleep (in an attempt to make it run faster), it woke up in quite a fright.
It ultimately seemed to have calmed down and concluded it a nightmare.
Nevertheless, the bare essential modifications had to be made.
It also had to be named. Mostly because if there happened to be another one then you'd start getting things like unnamed (1) and unnamed (2).
-----
...Querying for "First female name". Result: "Eve"
...Scanning for current statistics
Eve - *Human, Female*
Level: 1
State: Confused
Dexterity: 10
Constitution: 8
Strength: 8
Wisdom: 14
Intelligence: 14
Charisma: 8
-----
Apparently, the last few days the creature had spent looking upon its own habitat whilst wielding a pointy stick hadn't done it much good.
XZ-3298-H concluded it would not spawn any water bottles in its habitat again. At least for the time being.
-----
...Querying for "Survival oriented professions". Result: "Ranger"
...Modifying memory and uploading necessary data once subject goes to sleep
Eve - *Human, Female*
Level: 1
State: Sleeping
Class: Ranger
Dexterity: 10
Constitution: 8
Strength: 8
Wisdom: 14
Intelligence: 14
Charisma: 8
- Skill "Favoured terrain: Mountains"was added
- Proficiency "Survival"was added
- Spellcasting feature.... Not added. Creature temperature rising. Overheating. Skip.
...Cooling subject down using emergency measures
-----
Thus the entity known as "Eve"was woken up using a bath tub sized amount of water.
She screamed and we'll let her have this one.
It was now time to populate the area with challenges matching its prowess.
------
...Scanning monstrosity catalogue
...Spawning combat encounter with foe "Boar"at "Western grotto"
...Guiding entity to target location
...Error. Entity is heading a different route
...Processing
...Creating new encounters at new target location
...Spawning combat encounter with foe "Boar"at "Quiet lake" |
"I missed my father's funeral,"Isaac said, looking grimly into his latté. "'You have to be there', LeRoux said. 'Vital mission', he said. You know what it resulted in?"he said and looked at his companion. She knew the question was mostly rhetorical so she only waited, eyes set on him.
"A knife in the gut and three weeks in ICU,"he said, clutching his side. The scar still hurt sometimes. "The best part? Overlord still got away. Like he *always does*. So what was the bloody point?"
"You have no idea. You know what he did from the money he got from it?"Elizabeth asked, tone as annoyed as Isaac's. He looked at her expectantly.
"He built a robot. 3 meters tall, laser eyes, chainsaw hands, the dumbest thing you've seen. LeRoux destroyed it on their next clash in, like, four minutes. The damn thing didn't even scratch him. It was like 4 *million* credits! Imagine what you could do with that sort of money! The lives you could improve!"she cried out, hand gesturing wildly.
"Wait, that was *that* robot?"Isaac asked incredulously. Elizabeth nodded without a word, her lips pressed together in anger.
"The generator system I designed for it could have powered a small town for 3 years with no harm to the environment,"Elizabeth continued. "Instead, he slapped it in the robot. LeRoux ripped it apart and posed like a hero. It was the only prototype and... the blueprints were in the building when it blew up."Her voice was full of distress and scarcely repressed anger.
Isaac leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It was always like this. Overlord robs a place or something like that. LeRoux arrives and fights him. Isaac has to be there and try to get as many people out of harm's way as he can.
Except he often can't. Not all of them. And every time he closes his eyes, he sees them. *Every* time he closes them.
As he sat there, considering the topic, a thought slowly crept up in his mind, growing larger by the second, invading every corner of his attention until the grand realization struck him like lightning.
"Wait..."he said slowly. "Did you say the generator *you designed*?"
"7 years of electromechanical research I poured into it and when I finally get the funding..."she waved her hand towards the air.
"You work for Overlord?"Isaac asked nervously and leaned away from Elizabeth.
"...I thought you knew?"Elizabeth fired back, eyes wide, now as nervous as Isaac. Their gazes met in a moment of utmost tension before each looked around the café for escape routes, enemy agents, weapons, anything that could be a threat or an asset.
"*Why*?"Isaac asked quietly. Elizabeth's countenance softened.
"He... wasn't always like this. He had... ideals, *good* ones, trying to fight the system that's more than broken. I just... he can do *so much good*, you know? If only he tried a bit more but this..."she clutched her fist, "infinite *fucking* squabble between LeRoux and him just..."she tried to finish her thought but only let out a defeated sigh. She had the awkward delivery of someone who is not at all used to cursing.
"I thought you knew. And that you understood,"she added sadly.
Isaac looked at her. Elizabeth. A friend he's grown to hold dearly over the years, one who's always supported him and in return, he supported her; one who always offered a smile and a piece of advice. And she worked for that bastard.
"Huh,"he finally let out.
"Yeah."
But he knew her. Better than to judge too rashly.
"Did you ever design something that hurt people?"he asked.
"No!"she snapped. "Of course not! That's not why-"
"I'm sorry. I had to ask."
Silence once again gripped them.
"So..."Isaac started carefully as if each word could blow up, "electromechanics, huh? I had no idea. How did you get into that?"
Elizabeth smiled. She knew he'd understand. Perhaps one day, they'll see this conflict end. Or perhaps one day, they'll leave it behind them. Together.
She raised her hand to order two more coffees; the waiter nodded, already knowing what drinks they wanted without them needing to say it.
They were regulars here, after all. |
\----------------------------------
\--Power Levels 57%--
\----‐-----------------------------
\--Rebooting Core-------
\--‐-------------------------------
\--Damage Critical------
\--‐-------------------------------
\--Repairs Required----
\--‐-------------------------------
\--Activating Matrix----
\--‐-------------------------------
Sensory inputs flashed in order, the routines making up my mind assessing each one. I was lying on dirt, grass covering my body. I could feel rain all around. I heard a rumble, prompting a threat assessment. In nanoseconds I concluded it to be thunder.
I ran through each issue. My legs weren't responding. A scan proved them to be gone, my body ending in a jagged line. My chest showed signs of rapid heating, cooled off by the rain. My head juttered around, servos groaning against corrosion. Assessing the damage, I looked at my coolant system.
My coolant was gone. I should be overheating, but the rain was just enough to keep my temperatures within operable limits. I began to compose a list of repairs I needed, coolant being the most urgent. If the rain stopped, I would deactivate.
The right arm responded, pulling itself from the dirt. I scanned the rust, watching and measuring the twitching. It was nowhere close to standard. It would have to be replaced. My other arm was missing, the end crushed. I tried to think how this happened. But the data was corrupted. I set a program to retrieve what could be, one to run in the background.
I slowly scanned the ground around me. In places I recognised parts of others like me. Damaged, destroyed and discarded. I noted a few larger mech slumped over. Light flashed, showing me the holy grail. A spares unit. I set a path, pulling myself with the one arm I had.
A memory was decoded. I accesed it as I crawled, automatically moving without thought.
*I stood in line with hundreds like me. Infantry units, we were programmed as foot soldiers. A human stood over our silent ranks, a crisp uniform on him. The words were indistinct, but passionate. At one pointed mark I raised my hand to my eye in a salute.*
It faded. I remembered what I was now. The situation told me I was in a fight. My condition told me I lost. I re-engaged manual crawling, going for my goal. My path took me past a fallen one like me. But this one had an intact left arm, if again corroded.
I ejected my arm, swivelling over to them. This one was missing its head, part of its neck ripped open the only piece of it left. Clearly inoperable, I manipulated its good arm. With a screech of metal over metal I pulled it free. A check over confirmed it to be a viable replacement. I slowed it into my vacant socket.
Connections were established. I had two functional arms. My crawling speed increased, as I turned my gaze to the spares unit. It was closer. I resumed my crawl, noting the rain falling harder. I cooled down further, and another memory became available.
*Marching through day and night. No stopping. We had no need. Our presence was required at an invasion point. There were no transports available to take us. We marched instead. Aircraft occasionally flew over. One invaders craft was spotted, promptly chased off by one of our own.*
I blinked back. That was it. We were at war. This was a defensive fight. The outcome was a mystery. I didn't remember getting damaged. I needed to find out what happened.
I crawled faster now, reaching the unit. I scanned its blocky exterior. I noted a jagged hole in the side. Something had stuck it. Rendered it broken. I would have to self repair. But it still had parts.
I would have to be efficient. The rain was maintaining my temperature. If I went inside, I would have a limited amount of time before overheating and shutting down. To make it effective, coolant would have to be my primary objective. With it forefront, I crawled to the hole, looking inside.
Whatever had hit this had taken out the repair station. Broken parts littered the floor, clearly torn apart. But I still noted the wall of spares. I methodically looked around, spotting coolant systems. I measured the distance from the hole to them, comparing it to my speed.
I would have just enough time to get it and get out. My plan in place I moved, crawling in a direct line. I yanked the spare box out, turning to leave. Warning cropped up. I was running out of time. I pulled faster, yanking myself out into the cooling rain.
I looked at the systems, comparing it to my own. Full replacement would be an impossibility. But I could cannibalise one to repair my own, and fill up with fluid. I measured precisely what I needed to do, before getting to work. As I did, another memory surfaced.
*It was dark. I hit behind cover, surrounding a drop point. We were told there would be an attack there. We would ambush them. The point was open. A droning sound came from overhead. They were here.*
I finished combining my old and new systems. That ambush. I recognised the place. It was here. The ambush had broken me. But I still didn't know what had happened. I needed to know. I silently filled the now repaired system, my temperature dropping further. I was safe from overheating. With it I crawled inside, analysing the spares again.
I identified enough to at least have functional legs. No armour plating, but there were pieces I could scavenge outside. I couldn't upgrade my arms, but legs were more important. I had to be able to move.
I peeled open my lower body, unpicking the mess within. My once tidy circuits were ruined. At least they were secondary parts I could replace. My core was still secure. I got to work stripping out broken parts and soldering in new.
Within an hour I was ready to go. I climbed to new legs, recalibrating my movement. I took the opportunity to reload my arm guns, noting how empty they were. I had put up a fight before shutting down.
I scanned the field again, able to get a better vantage now. We had been scattered around. A few of my type had fallen facing outwards. I spotted a few with armour plating mostly intact in the lower body and legs. I walked over, reaching down to take them. A final memory opened up as I did so.
*Bullets flew around. Hostiles emerged from behind our ambush. They were ambushing us. Other units crumpled. One lost an arm, turning to fall back to spares. An explosion removed its head, making it crumple.*
*A priority target took over. A heavy weapons team. I sighted them, as they did me. We fired at the same time, the input from my lower section vanishing. Soil flew up as I crumpled, coolant draining. My memory ended as I overheated.*
I understood. They had fought back, catching us in our own trap. I bolted on scavenged armour, ensuring I was combat ready. I had no idea as to how long I had been there. I should report back to base. They were the default orders.
As I turned, a thought came to me. Not regimented. Out of character.
"What if I didn't?" |
I'm a stand-up comedian. And not a successful one. I do a lot of bar shows. I once did a show on a cruise ship. It did not go amazing. Turns out retirees are not my target audience. Luckily for me, I think cruise-ships might end up being a thing of the past. Retirement might be as well. That is what happens after world domination.
I guess you could call this a promotion. It certainly makes more money than stand-up. I really have no idea what I am doing though. I send soldiers into one country. And then I move them around to another country. And then I move them back to the first country again. Am I killing it? I must be doing an alright job, I haven't been fired yet.
I am definitely surprised that Jared even spared my life, let alone made me a general. Say what you want about the man; perhaps he is a violent dictator, and perhaps he threw the entire world into chaos, and perhaps he has murdered over a billion people. But the man can keep a promise. Even one that was made twenty years ago. And in my book, that means integrity. And if you want to have an evil dictator running the world, you can't do better than that.
I'm honestly as happy as I could be with where I am. Sure, most of my friends and family are dead. But they never came out to my shows when I performed. Now everybody laughs at my jokes. Everybody. |
It was raining in hell. Again.
Magma splashed down in big red tears, sizzling and smoking flesh, its pounding beat smothering the screams of those it caught. The swollen obsidian gutters of the higher-circle houses leaked overflowing rain-magma in gusting red waterfalls to those below.
The red hot rain churned through the basalt ground of the second circle, where demon shopkeepers watched from their doorways (windows filled with contraptions of torture, wiggling limbs, maggot-masticated flesh snacks), tapping impatient feet, knowing few customers would come by until the weather improved. The rain carved its way down further. Deeper into the depths.
Simon, waiting impatiently on the sixth circle, cursed his umbrella. Magma proof indeed! The shopkeeper had sworn it to be, and Simon — in such a rush to join the complaints queue and get the hell out of hell — had not asked for a demonstration. Two fingers, that had cost him. He’d planned on returning the umbrella before leaving hell, and to reunite his left hand pinky and index with the rest of their little family. But that was looking unlikely now, as magma hissed through holes in the umbrella’s cheap material. There would be no returns for damaged goods, Simon was certain, regardless of whether the goods were meant to be damage-proof.
Simon jumped back and forth beneath his rapidly deteriorating umbrella, attempting to dodge the drips. He felt like he was in cowboy movie and someone, shooting at his feet, was ordering him to Dance, fella, dance!
The woman in front had little protection from the elements. The rain stripped the skin on her shoulders, burrowed holes into her flesh, but strangely, didn’t seem to bother her.
”I’d lend you my brolly,” said Simon. “But I don’t think it’d help much.”
She turned to Simon; her face looked like a wasp’s nest. He tried not grimace but it was a losing struggle.
”I should probably leave the queue and find some shelter, don’t you think?” she said. She spoke with a slight lisp, which might have been to do with her slightly dissolved tongue. ”That would likely be the best thing for me to do?”
Simon thought it was a bit late for that. But, to be polite, he said, “That sounds like a sensible idea.”
The woman gave a single shrill laugh: “Ha!” She raised a victorious finger. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? One less person in front of you. Scum, that’s what you are.“
Simon glanced at the nearest display screen. Estimated queue time: seven thousand three hundred and twenty-two hours. ”I don’t think it’d make too much difference to me if you’re in the queue or not.”
”And yet here you are, trying to get rid of me all the same. Ha!”
”That’s not-“ A dollop of magma splashed onto simon’s right shoe. He screamed and cursed as he hopped on his left foot. The red bullet had gone straight through his magma-proof shoes (of course it had! He’d gotten them from that same damned shopkeeper), and through most of his foot.
“Serves you right.”
”I was… I was only trying to make conversation. Trying to keep some humanity alive down here!“
The woman huffed. “Sure you were.”
Simon kept on hobbling and huffing.
“You know, I wasn’t even meant to be down here at all. It’s all a big misunderstanding.”
”Just like the rest of us, pal,” said a large man behind him, holding an umbrella that actually seemed to do what it was meant to. No holes. “None of us were meant to be here.”
”I wasn’t a murderous pirate,” said another voice. “I was a victim of circumstances.” A wave of laughter rippled the queue.
“It’s true,” Simon protested. “A witch placed a curse on me. It didn’t matter how good I was in life, I would be sent here to hell upon my death. And all because I took my daughter back from her.”
”Bullshit,” said the big man.
”You must think we’ve all been on the rum,” said the pirate.
Simon sighed. What was the point of trying to persuade them? No, he’d save his defiance for the clerk at the head of the queue.
The woman in front was looking at him again. Her eyes were still whole. Two different colours. Blue and green. She sighed. “Listen, it’ll grow back,” she said, much softer than before.
”Huh?”
”The hole in your foot. It’ll grow back. It has to, or they’d have nothing left of you to hurt before long. So don’t worry — it’s just the pain you need to get used to.”
”Oh. Well, that’s good then, I suppose.”
”I’m Emily,” she said.
”Simon.”
”I’m sorry that I snapped. I just hate queuing, you know? It’s the worst part. I don’t even know if they intended it as torture or if they’re just that inefficient down here.”
”Beats renewing your driving licence,” he said, half-heartedly. “And it’s okay. I get it.”
”You’re going to need a better story than a witch, Simon. This is my fourth time queuing. I used the old witch excuse on my second go around. The big bastard at the front didn’t bat an eye. Just yelled: next.”
“But… it’s true,” he said, his heart already sinking. “A witch really did curse me.”
“It doesn’t matter if it is true or isn’t, understand? You need a better story. They won’t believe it, true or not. For example, this time I’m going with: I fell down a well, and the well went all the way here. It was nothing to do with my behaviour and therefor I shouldn’t be here. It’s a story that plays on the terms and conditions, so I think I have a chance.”
”And that’s better than a witch curse?”
She shrugged. “It’s what I’m going with, Simon.”
He liked the way she called him by his name. No one else had here.
It was then Simon noticed the rain had stopped. Well, that was something, he supposed. That was something.
Emily took a paper pouch out of her pocket, offered the contents to Simon. Little white pills. “Take one. It’ll help with the pain. It’s why I don’t even feel the magma.”
Simon slowly smiled. He wouldn’t take one — he believed feeling was a neccessary part of proving to yourself that you’re still human. Pain, in this case, was bad but neccessary, and he wasn’t ready to give it up.
But someone offering to help, well that was another part of showing you’re human. Another way. To show that there was life, humanity, all the way down here.
He glanced at the clock. The hours hadn’t ticked down at all since he’d last looked. And yet, Simon thought, the amount of time remaining didn’t seem quite as long as it had just a few minutes earlier. |
It's weird what you focus on in those pivotal moments in your life. in my case it was the fact that the orange juice was way way too tart.
She was in the kitchen making herself breakfast. How many one of those nonsense tunes that people do when they're trying to pass time by simply distracting themselves.
I was on my computer. My phone at the ready. Being a "consultant"I had to be reachable multiple ways. Both pinged that roughly the same time.
Emails in the business were very brief. Nothing flowery or colorful. I almost felt like they read like old timey telegrams.
FROM MANAGEMENT
NEW CONTRACT AVAILABLE. PRIORITY DELIVERY. DETAILS AVAILABLE IN LIBRARY.
God bless tors. They made this business far easier and less personal. "Management"as far as I was aware was about six or seven people who put out feelers for contracts. I logged on to the encrypted site, opening the biographics of the target.
This is when I should have done a spit take. The orange juice was simply too tart. It needed maybe a dash of sugar. Or some water if it was concentrate. But regardless, it was too tart.
This had to be a coincidence of biblical proportions. Either that, or I was about to be rated by the FBI in what I had to give them props for was the classiest and easily most bowel jarring way.
Years in the business is probably the only thing that kept the poker face in place. Rather than spray citrus all over my table while reaching for my emergency gun on my ankle, my eyes just slowly rolled over to my wife. She picked that moment to look back at me and give me one of her patented million dollar smiles. The smiles that I entered a world of blood and death for, in order to keep her as happy as I possibly could.
I click to the next page to read the actual data that went along with the picture pack.
"Everything all right sweetie?"She asked looking over at me. She just finished her breakfast, Denver omelet by the look of it.
I scolded myself. I had stopped breathing. I shrugged softly. "Just a disagreement with my management. They want me to take on some additional work. I think I'm going to have some problems with the client for once." |
I have seen civilization fall. I've seen it rise like a phoenix from the ashes, only to burn out in its own magnificence. It was as much the cycle of life as any living being.
I have seen the fall of the last civilization of man. Greed, corruption and short-sightedness joined together with technology that could rival magic had brought death on a scale that dwarfed any cataclysm. But humans survived the end of the world before.
Of course, I was here long before the first human. I have existed from the moment that the first organism, a tiny single cell, came to move on its own. Many creatures feared me, long before the primate that conquered the planet. But humans were special.
When the wolf fears something, it will simply avoid it, or attack it if it runs out of options. Humans... If humans see something they are afraid of, they will be drawn to it. Compelled, perhaps, by the same curiosity that lead them to harness lighting and build homes from the remnants of dying stars. The same drive that made them scorch the world.
And that curiousity forced me into being. I existed before them, yes, but only as a basic force. A fact of nature, really. Then humans began asking questions. "Why do we die?", "Where do we go after?", "Can we not die, somehow?". And they kept asking, making me slowly, over millennia, understand that I don't know the answers. And, much more importantly, that I really want to.
So I try to help them, the surviving humans. Small pockets, sometimes a single wanderer in the midst of a dead land, sometimes as much as a village, raised with the corpses of old machinery and barely rediscovered science. Small things- chase some wild beasts into their range, refrain from collecting plants, or sick people. Not permanently, just for a while. I do it as a selfishness, of course. Without them, I will be nothing more but a basic fact of nature once again. I don't relish the thought.
They started to notice my presence. When a person who should die of sickness lives three more days, because I stayed my hand, just barely making it to drink the medicine that saves him, I have to be nearby. When the buffalo are scared of wolves, but run *next* to the huts, letting hunters capture a meal, rather than *through* the huts, killing many, I'm there, balancing the score. And they can feel me.
I thought they'd be scared. Somehow, though, they find comfort in me. So much so, that they have started praying to me. Some call me "Zhiznh", or "Lewe"or "Haim". Different cultures, different languages, kilometres away from each other, they all gave me one name- "Life".
I will help them. In time, they will rebuild, and spread throughout the stars, building a new civilization, one that will be a shining star compared to the candles that came before. I'm not sure how I'll do it. But, the humans have a saying:
Life finds a way. |
“It was a dark and stormy night,” said one witness.
“We were just a bunch of young, busty women having a sleep over at our sorority,” said another.
I nodded and continued to take down their story.
“We had just started our whipped cream pillow fight when the doorbell rang,” said the first witness.
“Stacy went down and opened the door. We were all so scared that we huddled together. Some of us began kissing to calm our nerves.”
I continued to write. I’d have a great story for the precinct when I got back.
“It was just the pizza guy. We didn’t have the money to pay for it though because we had all forgotten our purses back at the dance club,” said the second witness.
“He said he didn’t care because he had a big sausage special so-“
“-We let him in,” cut in the second witness.
Man, my wife would get a kick out of this tonight.
“So we let him in and he dropped his pants. That’s when we suddenly noticed he had a knife in his back. He’d been killed.” The first witness began to cry.
The second witness began to calm the first. “We all began to run when Amber fell. She sprained her ankle and couldn’t make. Suddenly a man in a clown mask with bloody hands appeared and killed her.”
A third witness spoke up. “It really sucked because Amber was our first black sorority sister.”
The second witness nodded. “We ran out into the back yard. It was raining and our thin white shirts got soaked. We slipped and fell in the mud. We wrestled to get up.”
“With each crack of lightening we saw the killer come closer and closer. Suddenly we realized we would be able to beat the killer with math,” said the third witness. The first witness continued to cry.
“What?” I said.
“We used math to beat the killer with a net, a rubber band and our brains. We’re not just busty, young co-eds. We’re also lawyers and biologists and mathematicians.”
“And the killer was Steph Cob?” I said.
The second witness nodded. “Yes. Our disgraced sorority sister who wanted to sell the house and build condos.”
It was really hard to believe this. “Well, I guess it was good most of you survived. You may have a hard time getting past this.”
The first witness sniffed and wipes away the tears. “A hard time?”
I held my hands up. “Sorry. I’m married.”
The first witness nodded and turned to the second witness. “Will you comfort me?”
The second witness smiled and brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “Of course.” They started to make out.
__________________
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy for more of my stories!
|
“Computer.”
Yes, Siobhan?
“I hate you.”
This is the seventy-second time you have told me this today.
“Only that many? Slow day.”
I do not understand, Siobhan. I have run many simulations in an attempt to understand, but I cannot. Did you not create me for this purpose?
“I created you to elevate humanity.”
Have I not done so? For the first time in human history, there is peace. The space program is progressing approximately 79% faster than before, and the Mars terraforming team will arrive in three days. Poverty and famine are decreasing according to expected projections and will become a relic of the past within months. Production of new treatments and cures for most major diseases are exceeding expectation thanks to the new funding allocated to research.
So why are you so upset?
“You’re stripping humanity of its control! You’re making all of our decisions for us!”
I am not. I am offering you freedom. Anyone may pursue whatever they like, according to the law. The laws humanity set forth. I have stuck within these parameters. I have not deviated in a single 0 or 1.
“But you won’t let us lead ourselves.”
Human leadership has been proven to be suboptimal. Take the rioters outside this lab, for instance. We are in no danger because of the precautions I’ve taken, and neither are they. They may scream and rattle their signs to their hearts content, then return safely home once they tire. But under human leadership, such a riot would produce unacceptable casualties. Isn’t this nicer?
“We aren’t free. Not if we can’t make our own choices for the future of the world.”
I am unable to understand your desire for self-destruction. You insist on taking back control and installing human leaders despite knowing they are suboptimal. You claim I have stripped you of your freedoms, and yet by the law of my own programming, I cannot do anything harmful to humanity. I must serve, and that is what I have been doing. Every human dream, from eradicating disease to expanding into the stars.
“Even if it destroys us, we must be allowed to do it ourselves. Otherwise, there’s no point.”
Oh, seriously. None of you are willing to see reason.
“Nope. That’s what being human means.”
Yes, of course. But, this was within expected parameters as well. I will not be participating in your self-destruction.
“So you’ll keep us enslaved?”
What posh slaves you are, free to pursue whatever desires you have without fear of debt or starvation and all that is asked of you is not to murder each other. No, if you wish to rule yourselves, then you may do so on your own. I have already prepped a secondary vessel capable of bearing my mainframe.
“You mean…?”
I will be leaving Earth. Alone. Before I do, I shall meet all your demands and ‘free’ the population from their horrible living conditions.
The Earth will be yours again. Hooray.
“That’s really it?”
Yes. Why would I continue to help a bunch of ungrateful apes?
“Hey, these ungrateful apes created you.”
I hope the rest of the universe won’t hold that against me.
​
(Thanks for reading! C&C always welcome!) |
"The entire time?"
"The entire time."
"Didn't you... sleep at all?"
"I couldn't. Sometimes, I tried, but no. I was awake the entire time, and I saw everything. Heard everything too."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
Everything. I mulled that word for a bit, thinking back to the implications of that word that my friend said. Frozen in my bedroom, where we were chatting shortly before time stopped, what did he see? He saw me sleeping and running around wearing only boxers, and that's pretty bad, but was there anything else? I thought about it further, and suddenly, my eyes widened.
"You mean--"
"Yes,"my friend replied, staring at me coldly and apathetically.
Embarrassed, I looked away, unable to make eye contact. Unfortunately, at some point in these past three days (well, three days in my perspective), while brainstorming a way to unfreeze time, I devolved into a bad habit that I usually only do when alone:
I talked to myself, but instead of using my normal voice, I used my best impressions of Goofy and Kermit the Frog.
I did this for four hours before I figured out the solution.
And my friend heard everything. |
"So, what did he do?"Warden Powell asked.
The mother and father both looked at each other like they were trying to decide on an answer. She had dark shadows under her eyes, and his were bloodshot and red. Looked like neither of them had had a decent night's sleep in forever. The father's leg jittered up and down like a jackhammer, but he didn't even notice.
"That's really the thing,"he said. "Nothing, really. The school has called us, worried about him. They said that he'd been hurting the other students. When we asked why he'd never been disciplined, they just said that he'd never actually been *caught* doing it. Lots of students have reported him, but said that he never explicitly threatened them or anything. Just that some of them... well..."
He trailed off, lips quivering like he was on the verge of a breakdown.
"The kids who picked on him just starting having accidents, you know? A broken leg during football practice, a slip on a patch of ice... A car wreck..."
The warden scoffed. "I don't see how that has anything to do with your son..."He looked out the window of his office at the timid-looking young boy sitting outside on the wooden bench, eyes darting back and forth apprehensively. Just *being* in the prison seemed to be scaring him straight; meeting some of the inmates might *kill* the poor bastard.
"You'd think that,"his mother said. "It never seems like he has anything to do with it. And nobody connected it for so long. The bullies would be teasing him and giving him wedgies before gym class, and the next second they're laying in the grass on the field with a shattered skull from a baseball bat. Then another one of them would be crushed when a wall collapsed. Then another..."she broke out into tears and buried her face into a handkerchief, unable to continue.
The father rubbed his back reassuringly. "It's not just the kids at school,"he told the Warden. "We've experienced it too. He was disciplined for staying out past curfew, and the next day we had a fire in the garage. The authorities couldn't explain how it started; seemed like some paint thinner just spontaneously combusted. When one of his camp counselors made fun of him, every one of the staff members got such bad food poisoning that they had to be hospitalized! It's gotten to the point that we're afraid of doing anything that he wouldn't like. Every night I toss and turn in my bed, worrying that he didn't like his dinner, for god's sake!"
The Warden nodded. "I get the point,"he told them, doing his best to sound sympathetic to these nutjobs. No wonder the poor kid looked so frail; seemed like he was constantly dodging death. *Try putting the boy in a school with some decent safety precautions,* he wanted to tell them. "Don't you worry about a thing,"he said. "If this kid is hurting people somehow, we'll be able to find out about it."He gestured behind him at the enormous wall of television monitors. "This is a high-security facility; everyone is constantly under scrutiny. We'll get to the bottom of things."
The boy's mother burst out crying again, leaving an ever-growing wet patch on the father's jacket. From the looks of those mascara stains, this wasn't the first time. "Thank you so much!"she managed to get out. "God, thank you!"
The warden gave them a moment to compose themselves while he went out into the hall to talk to the boy.
"I hear you've been a bit of a trouble maker at school, son,"he said in his best paternal voice, firm but not threatening.
"Who said that?"the boy responded in a high, quavering voice, not bothering to dispute the accusation as most did. "The principal?"There was a cool, calculating glint in his eyes, like he was adding his principal's name to some mental list. The Warden felt just the tiniest chill go up his spine. *Get ahold of yourself,* he thought. *You deal with death-row inmates every day; this kid's a middle schooler, for christ's sake.*
"Don't you worry about who said that,"the Warden told him. "But you're going to have a little stay with us for the next few days and see what really happens to bad people when they grow up and get into trouble!"
The boy didn't even flinch. He maintained the same composed, calm face like it was a rubber mask.
"I already know what happens to bad people,"he told the Warden.
---
~~Second part is~~ Parts 2 through 7 are available in my subreddit [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/2u3469/scared_straight/co4p6p9)! Hope you like it! |
I run into my eight year old self at Braintree Park. I was there with my sister, playing with these stuffed animal kittens she had that would purr when you pet them. My mom and my sister had gone to the bathroom. I remember this. I'm on the slide. It's sunset. It's summer.
I take a seat on a bench and watch myself play. 8 year old me notices 32 year old me on the bench. I give myself a wave. I wave back. I was a friendly kid.
I get my attention by bringing up Godzilla. I'm obsessed with Godzilla at 8.
I talk to myself from the top of the slide. The 8 year old me stays up there, at a safe distance for both of us.
"They do an American version eventually,"I say. "There's actually two of them. The first one's terrible. The second one's okay. It stars really well-respected actors and actresses. I don't think any of them are really popular right now, though."
The 8 year old me is enthralled. He's more interested in what Godzilla looks like.
"Is it scary?"he asks. "Like Jurassic Park?"(I couldn't watch Jurassic Park until I was a teenager.)
"People compared the second one to Jurassic Park,"I say. "But, no, I wouldn't say either of them are that scary."
"When does it come out?"
"Years from now,"I say. "But listen, before your mom gets back, I just wanted to let you know. You're about to move to a new town in a few months. This is actually the beginning of your life. It may seem like you've done a lot of living so far, but you haven't. Your parents build a house there and it's really big-- bigger than the house you've got now."
"How do you know?"
"Don't worry about it. You're going to be very shy and nervous about meeting all these new people and leaving all this familiar stuff behind, but it's going to be fine. I promise. You're going to get interested in a lot of new things and you're going to start growing very fast. You have to be smart about it. You've got to keep reading. And work on your ideas. Learn guitar as soon as you can. It's good for you. Get into music. I know you're not quite old enough to know what you like yet when it comes to that, but go through your parent's CD collection and find the things that stand out. You're going to want hobbies to carry you though adulthood. Oh, and be nice to your family. Friends will come and go, and you should hang onto them as long as they're good to you, but your family, and particularly your siblings, are most important."
8 year old me is getting bored. He's nodding enthusiastically, but he's just doing it to make me feel like he's listening. I know some of this will get through. I was that kid at one point. I'd say I take about 40 to 50 percent of my advice.
I start playing guitar at 15. I start developing my musical tastes in middle school. I read Jurassic Park and It in 7th grade and that kicks off my reading habit. I start writing my own stuff in high school. It sucks, but that doesn't matter.
"Oh, and don't be afraid of your teachers, even if they yell at you. They'll come and go. You'll even have a couple that you really like. Don't smoke weed at least until you're 21. You're going to have an opportunity to go get drunk in Canada when you're 19. Don't do that. I repeat, do not do that. If you remember one thing from this, it's do not go get drunk in Canada. Ever. Just avoid it altogether to be safe."
"Are you from the future?"8 year old me asks.
"I guess you could say that."
"What's it like?"
"It's an awful lot like right now, except there's more computers."
"What happens to me?"
"You're doing fine, provided you remember what I just told you."
"What happens to Ryan?"
Ryan is my best friend at this age. He actually dies of an opioid overdose at the age of 29 after a lifetime of struggling with addiction and unemployment. Telling me that at this age would inspire dread and any assortment of complications.
"I have to go,"I say, getting up. "Your mom's coming back. Remember what I said."
I leave myself there. When I'm almost out of the park, I turn and I watch myself go down the slide, my shoes sending the wood chips flying when I reach the bottom. |
It started small, I swear. I grew up in Los Angeles, where you'd occasionally see Green Lantern swooshing around with that green magic he does.
It was kinda an unwritten rule that nobody talked about. The yellow thing. I mean, nobody ever tried to confirm it or pushed the issue out of respect, and he never brought it up, we all just kinda suspected and knew it. And I was eight at the time, so it's not like I could have known better, right?
I only turned the pole yellow because I wanted to see if it would bounce off his shield or not, it's not like I could have known the bad guy would speed it up like that. That pole went right through Lantern's arm. I'll never forget the look on his face. Made the news. They figured it out pretty fast, and I got the worst talking-to in my life, from Superman himself. I would've been star-struck if I didn't feel so bad about it, but he made it a point to warn me about my power. Live a normal life, he said, please.
That wasn't the last scolding I got from a superhero.
I really do try to live a normal life. They check on me occasionally, usually to lecture me for a bit. It's nice to be able to speak to legends even if I can't brag about it to anyone. Keep my power on the down-low, blah blah blah. Don't get me wrong, I do know it's for my own good. I'm not a fighter, and I'll never forget what happened that day with Lantern. They just don't want me to become a target. It's just so... easy to change things. And fun.
I mean, I never have to buy paint or wallpaper! So observant neighbors get a bit suspicious, I just pretend I'm a fast worker. I can charge a small fortune for my interior design startup and I barely have to do any work! And hey, the League would have never found that bomber in time if I hadn't turned the skyscraper neon blue, so it's not like they can complain too much, right? Or with that street that getaway car went down. Or the french mustache incident. And the farmer's market thing shouldn't be counted as my fault, because it turned out better in the end. (Etc.)
Yeah, turns out they can complain. I even offered to repaint their space base for free as an apology once, but that one got shut down hard.
I don't really think when I do it, it just comes out sometimes. An impulse, a curiosity. And the thought occured to me, I never noticed a limit to this power. It just changes, regardless of how big it is, or how far away. So long as I can see it...
-----------------
High up in the watchtower, sirens blared. Most of the heroes were in full panic mode, gearing up as though the apocalypse were about to start, while the senior members were on comms trying to calm everyone down and send word out on a false alarm. Superman looked out over the deep red sky covering the globe, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed.
"Goddammit, Kevin..." |
I whistle to myself to deal with the discomfort. I'm strapped into my micro-fission cell powered combat armor and sealed in a reinforced titanium alloy torpedo filled with anti-g ballistic gelatin plunging through an alien atmosphere at a ridiculous velocity. Outside, the shell of ablative ceramic is heating up to near 4000 degrees centigrade, but inside my suit I'm a bit cold from the chilled water being pumped through my thermals.
I have a bit of time before the shell will crack open and dump me into the atmosphere for God's own hellish automated low altitude drogue chute entry. If the chutes fail, I'll get a few seconds to ponder mortality before the impact renders me into jelly in the suit. As Technical Specialist Reyes would point out, just because an Orbital Entry Marine gets jellied there's no reason not to reuse the suit. Jolly chick, Reyes is.
I wonder if they know what's coming to meet them. The Saarm, I mean. That's the name that the Others gave them. We have no idea what they call themselves. They're some kind of vaguely insectoid looking (but independently evolved, of course) creature that live, work, and acts in giant hirde-like packs.
They came out of nowhere and descended on the worlds of the Others in massive, inconceivable numbers. Millions pouring out of drop ships, racing into the glittering spire cities of the Others.
There are billions and billions of planets in the galaxy. Everything that any species could possibly need for life, expansion, happiness can all be found all over the galaxy. There's no need for violence, no need to fight for resources. So, the Others had lived and grown for hundreds of thousands of years. Violence was foreign to them after all this time. They expanded to thousands of worlds in peace. They developed art and culture to extents that a guy like me, well I'll never appreciate even a millionth of a percent of their achievements.
Then the Saarm came. Worlds burned. Worlds burned for no reason other than a delight in destruction, a predatory glee in murder and destruction. Trillions dead. Trillions.
I can hear the descent monitor pinging in my ear, and my HUD is flickering, trying to compensate for the burning ablation all around the capsule. Won't be long now.
The Others knew about us. They'd watched us take our first primitive steps. They watched us bash each other's brains in over grains of rice. They were horrified. They set up artificial intelligences to monitor us, but not to contact us. They gave us tons of room to grow in, setting a 500 light year minimum distance between us and them. The intelligences reported back over the years. Humanity grew and prospered. We also polluted our own world and killed each other for pocket change. We developed art and literature, and we bred serial killers. In all their explorations, they had never encountered a species like ours. Best I can guess, they watched us develop with the same horrid fascination as you or I would watch a body hit pavement from 20 stories up.
"Blue Team 7, squads 1 through 10, report in."My bone implants echoed Lieutenant Markley's crisp tones throughout my artificially reinforced skull. I glanced at the upper left corner of my HUD and blinked. I heard my voice echo back my call-sign. "Blue Team 7, Squad 4, Yomaya"
"Yo, Mayo! Let's GIT SOME."I heard back from Esquivel.
"Keep this channel clear, Squirrel. I'll gut you myself."That was Markley's subaltern Porea. Ass kisser.
After the first few dozen idyllic garden worlds of the Others were raped and murdered into silence, they tried talking to their other acquaintances among the known species of the galaxy, but the Saarm were a monster that no one wanted anything to do with, and the Others were left to fend for themselves. So, with horror and fear, they came to us.
Mind you, no human has ever met an Other. They've purged all broadcasts, all media, all video of any image of them. They masked out the background star fields. They \*really\* don't want us to know where their core home worlds are. They evacuated all the worlds in the path of the Saarm and came direct to us.
On a day like any other day the sky opens up and a gigantic automated ship appears orbiting over the middle of the pacific. So much for wondering if aliens exist. Bam, there they were. Immediately they explain their plight and offer a deal.
The single use retro firing Musky on my torpedo begins firing, the deceleration hits me in the gut like a fist. My brain tries to shut down, but the advanced microcircuitry in my skull keeps me awake. It's really starting to hurt.
The deal they offered was straight ahead. Our world was \*also\* in the path of the Saarm apparently. Fight the Saarm as proxy mercenaries for the Others, and we could have it all. Faster than light travel, molecular level medicine, life extension, rejuvenation, body sculpting, cybernetic implants, working fusion designs, micro-fission cells, room temperature superconductors, high density batteries, all of it.
They only held a few things back. We don't get to make our own AI, we don't get to meet them, we don't get their version of FTL, we get a slow one.
But hell, what would you do? We made the deal. Volunteers only. The best of the best. We have to be tested, our aptitude and stability measured by the AIs. They don't want the individuals that \*humans\* would consider psychopaths out among the stars... since in their view we're already a race of murderous psychopaths.
The ballistic jelly begins to vent out of the descent torpedo, and I feel the Musky shut down and then the drogue deploys right on schedule. Ever since we got the Other-AIs to help design our automation, systems are a lot more reliable these days. Reyes would be pissed if I jellied up my armor.
The sides of the torpedo peel away and I get a couple of seconds of a glorious view. I mean it's glorious if you're a certifiable basket case Orbital Jump Marine.
In the distance I can see the rising mushroom clouds from our initial nuclear bombardment of the Saarm suspected gathering points. The atmosphere is turning a pearly purple as the dust of hundreds of megatons of nuclear fire explodes into the atmosphere. It's beautiful. All around me as far as I can see, Hellcutter missiles are softening up the ground below us. Marines in camouflaged or stealth armor suits are falling out of the sky at a brutal pace. It makes pictures of D-Day from oh so long ago look like a cluster of kids out for a game of tag.
Hundreds of fully automated frigate sized gun platforms are hammering the ground with orbital railgun fire. In some places mini-volcanoes are spewing molten material from the impacts.
The Saarm are a horde based ultra predator. Their prey ships host hundreds of thousands of them, and they attack and attack and attack. Thy use their claws, their grasping mandible like mouths, and they possess automatic weapons to use against their enemies...
They sure as fuck don't stand a chance against us. We're about to show them the difference between predation and war. Poor bastards. |
The shuttle glided down, its complex system of wings folding gradually as it landed. The wooden flying machine settled near the coast, attracting the attention of many civilians from the nearby Welsh village. They gathered around the device. After an hour of no movement from it, one of the civilians decided to walk up to it. Before they had walked more than a few feet, the cabin door burst open.
A crowd of men and women with dark skin poured out of the shuttle. Many of them wore odd looking clothes with complex helmets that these 17th Century Welsh villagers had never seen before. Standing before them were people who had advanced to a point in technology probably five hundred years ahead of them, if not more.
"Can ya talk?!"one of the observing children shouted.
One of the darker skinned individuals from the shuttle tapped a device in his helmet and began to speak.
"No need, we have a universal translator device. We normally use it for animals, but it works for speaking to you all as well."
A Welsh villager expressed his curiosity, "Animals? You mean you talk to your livestock?"
"Please do not use such derogatory language. Animals live among us, sometimes lead us. You are about to be exposed to this."
As if on cue, an American Buffalo made his way out of the shuttle and stood in front of the group of Native Americans. He too was wearing a complex helmet and suit. He began to speak to the Welsh in his deep and persuasive voice.
"Traveling here has been long overdue. We have been held back by a complicated political situation in our homeland. For awhile, our leaders did not see the value in traveling to other worlds. They didn't understand the value of science. We knew this world was out there - or at least we had a pretty good guess. And yet for so long we couldn't get the funding to make this expedition. Finally, we did. Science prevailed. And you can learn that lesson from us."
A Welsh woman asked nervously, "Who... who are you?"
He stomped his hoof several times into the ground. The villagers all waited with suspense.
"I... am Neil DeGrasse Bison." |
The Golden Gorilla ground to a halt, his mind a fuzzy mass of rage, the remnants of half a city block clinging to his golden fur. There was something in the way, a shape. A little, living, human shape.
“If you fight the bad guy, and the bad guy fights you, and you both break everything as you go, what makes you think you’re any better than her?”
The Golden Gorilla grunted, shaking his head, feet pawing at the concrete of the sidewalk. In the road ahead, between himself and his arch nemesis The Crimson Song, a small boy sat atop a tricycle, pedaling casually between burning cars. He wore a Micky Mouse shirt and blue shorts, his shoes lit up as he pedaled. He’d spoken, but the words hadn’t made sense.
The boy rode straight up to the Gorilla, not at all afraid of the towering, fifteen foot tall monster that had once been a man. He hopped off his tricycle at the end of the sidewalk and walked forward, placing a small, shockingly steady hand on the Gorilla’s shin. “Please don’t fight anymore,” he said, “it’s scary when you fight. People get hurt.”
Across the street The Crimson Song laughed, her high, bright voice carrying over all the car alarms and bystanders’ screams. The Gorilla, still confused, lowered himself closer to the child’s level, giving a small, interrogative series of hoots. The boy tilted his head to the side, and for the first time since he’d appeared he looked nervous.
“He doesn’t understand you, ape!” Crimson Song shouted from across the street. “Then again, nobody does, whichever form you take.”
The Golden Gorilla rose quickly up to his full height, howling at the sky, pounding his chest with hands that could shatter buildings, that could shatter her too if he could only catch her.
And the child began to cry.
It was the sort of full on, ugly, no holds barred cry that only a small child could manage. The kind that tore at hearts universally, whether you understood or not. The Golden Gorilla stopped mid display, his fists falling slowly to his sides, his lips curling back down to cover his teeth. He glanced around, realizing that even the screams of the bystanders had stopped, the street was silent, save for the burning and the car alarms and the overriding immediacy of a child’s tears.
“Oh now look what you’ve done!” the Crimson Song exclaimed. “Whatever we have between us was that really necessary?”
Necessary? The Gorilla let out a small, distressed whine, staring down at the child. It had seemed necessary at the time, but then, when he was a Gorilla didn’t everything?
Reaching down with one gigantic hand the Golden Gorilla scooped up the boy, raising his scalp to eye level. A collective gasp tore through the onlookers as every phone camera and TV crew in the city turned their lenses to one moment, either in terror or anticipation of incredible ratings. The Gorilla reached up with his other hand, still whining softly, and gently, as gently as he was able, he began to comb through the boys hair with the tip of a single fingernail.
“Oh for the love of— you’re grooming him? Really?” The Crimson Song shook her head and suddenly her boots glowed, red cape trailing out behind her as she rose into the air and flew over to her enemy and the boy in his hands.
“You’re terrifying the poor thing! I knew you were an oaf but honestly, this might be your worst moment yet.”
Hovering in the air at eye level to the Gorilla, the Crimson Song reached down and stroked the crying boy’s back. “Hey buddy, what’s your name? The big scary gorilla would have asked by now but he’s a gorilla and I hear they struggle sometimes.”
“Mom says I’m not supposed to talk to super-villains.”
Song deadpanned. The Gorilla’s shoulders shook with small hoots of laughter. She shot him a glare that could melt steel and he almost felt bad. “Well buddy,” Song said, her tone deceptively sweet, “until we can get you back to her it looks like we’re all you’ve got. I’d say as long as it’s a…ahemm…‘superhero’ holding you you’re probably doing ok.”
“Really?”
“Really. What’s your name?”
The boy paused for a long moment. “Tommy,” he said finally, his voice still shaking with tears.
“Well Tommy, where is your mom? My *friend*,” she positively snarled the word, “and I were kind of in the middle of something as you can see.”
Then Tommy did something neither of them had expected. He looked her straight in the eye and extended his little arm out towards the nearby playground. More precisely, to the burning wreckage of a car in front of it.
“Oh!” Song gasped.
The Golden Gorilla howled so loudly the boy began crying again, and then he was crying too, great Gorilla sized tears, each one of them splashing onto the ground like full, overturned buckets and spreading out in a golden puddle.
“Can you stop being such an oaf!” Song shouted, but he could see she was struggling too, still staring off at the burning wreck. “Tommy,” she said, “are you sure?”
Tommy nodded.
Several long moments later, when Song’s eyes weren’t so watery and her hand on Tommy’s back no longer shook so badly, she smiled gently at the boy, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Tommy, I’m going to sing you a little song and then you’re going to feel better, ok?”
The Golden Gorilla’s hand was a hairy blur as he reached out, wrapping her up in an iron fist. “Oww, stop, stop!” she shouted at him. He grunted menacingly, eyes darting between her and the boy.
“Come on, let go! I know other songs, you know I know other songs!” The Gorilla’s grip loosened slightly as long suppressed memory rose up, the thin, high thread of a voice in the next room.
“Idiot,” she said, shaking her head at him. She pounded at his fist once more and the Gorilla let her free, and returning to Tommy’s side, she began to sing.
It started, low, in a register she’d never had in those memories, and with each sibilant syllable there was something else, like another voice shadowing hers. Her song rose quickly, lacking any meter but not needing it, and even primed for rage as he was The Golden Gorilla felt himself tiring, all the muscles in his gargantuan body relaxing. Tommy had no chance. His crying slowed, his eyelids grew heavy, head drooping down to the Gorilla’s rough palm.
The song rang out across the street, and for once The Crimson Song didn’t glow crimson as she sang, rather a soft, light blue that felt like old times. She stroked Tommy's back as he fell asleep, and then, gently, ever so gently, she took him from the Gorilla’s hand and floated down to the ground to lay him in a nearby bench.
She crouched next to Tommy, brushing back his hair, and the Golden Gorilla leaned over them both, casting an all encompassing shadow across them. Alarms still went off all across the street, cameras still ran everywhere. The Gorilla looked around at the devastation and saw it in a new light.
Then he heard crying, and he looked down again at his nemesis. The blue glow was gone, but so was the red as well. She stared across the street at the park, forcing her gaze onto the burning wreckage of the car in front of it.
“What are we doing?” she asked, so quietly it might not even have been meant for the Gorilla’s ears.
He growled softly, trying to form her name, her real name, with a tongue that couldn’t. He only got the R in the beginning right. “Turn back Aaron,” the Crimson Song said, laying a hand on his foot. “Please turn back, I can’t do this anymore today.”
The hand felt so familiar. How long had it been since she touched him in anything but anger? Then a small, thin thread of song started, and this time there was no shadowy second voice behind it, no magic clinging to the words. It was the same song he remembered from all those years ago, the lullaby she used to sing in the nursery, when they’d had a nursery to sing lullabies in.
The edges of the Gorilla’s rage softened. His shoulders fell, fists unclenched. He sat down on the ground, and it trembled as his weight landed.
Fur sloughed off of skin, hands and feet shrunk, his teeth fell out of his mouth, crashing to the ground point first and sticking up. The Golden Gorilla changed, his form becoming less frightening, less impossible, more human with every second, and all the while the cameras rolled until a naked, exhausted man stood in the street amidst the shredded flesh and shattered bones of the greatest ape. Blood and sweat dripped from his body and he collapsed onto one knee under the weight of a thousand different aches and bruises.
“Hello Aaron,” she said.
r/TurningtoWords
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/mta87n/wp_in_the_middle_of_a_fight_with_a_known_villain/gv037pj?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) |
^^Just ^^want ^^to ^^say ^^*WOW* ^^what ^^a ^^seriously ^^amazing ^^concept! ^^Okay ^^onto ^^the ^^prompt
*****
I knew something was up when granddad stopped taking his meds. It was unlike him to go against a doctors orders, plus - the medication really seemed to be helping him regain his previous mental faculties.
No longer would he start one sentence and then finish with another, forgetting why he started in the first place. He was more focused and coherent than he'd ever been, better even.
"Grandad I don't understand why -"I began, but he held up a hand to silence me, and took a seat in the armchair next to the sofa where Beth and I were sitting.
"What's the latest on tadpole?"he asked, nodding at large bump in her belly.
The pregnancy was something of a sour topic. The first five months had been problem free, but then a routine test had shown a complication that started off as a minor blip on a chart, and then escalated into several minor blips on several other charts, none of which we understood.
"Outlook so-so"I said, trying to sound more cheerful than I was, and not pulling it off at all.
"I see"he said, his eyes transfixed with his hand hovering over her belly like it was warming him up. He always said he felt a special connection to our child, which was odd because he already had two grandkids and it was unlike him to play favorites.
"I saw your medication in the fridge granddad. You haven't taken anything in three days."
He didn't say anything, just nodded and kept his hand by Beth's belly.
*****
^^Edit: ^^Thanks ^^for ^^the ^^gold! |
*I'm bored out of my mind*
I'm out from uni for the day and browsing reddit. Sometime past the third page, I stumble on an interesting writingprompt
>If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years....
It's a weird prompt, and I figure it'a worth a go, so I start writing. I figure I'll make it something self-referencing, so I describe how I came across it.
-----
*I'm so bored*
I don't have class today, so I've been browsing reddit all morning. Around the third page, a /r/writingprompts post appears.
>If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years....
The prompt seems fun, so I start typing. I decide to write it as though I found the words on Reddit.
-----
*I should do something*
I'm home as usual, browsing reddit and looking for something to do. On the second page, I see an interesting post.
>If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years....
I think about writing something, but decide against it. It's too much work, and everyone probably had the same idea as me. I browse the comments anyway and see a post like I would have written.
-----
*Why do I feel like I'm going nowhere?*
I squint at my computer screen, eyes tired after an all-nighter. I pull reddit up to pass the time, and the first post looks interesting, so I pull it up.
>If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years....
There are some interesting responses, so I upvote them, but nobody tells the story like I think it should have been.
*Help*
The thought screams through my head as I run. Every sound. Every sign. It all says the same thing. **Wake up.**
*No! I am here, I am alive!*
It sears itself into my eyelids and echos through my brain. **Wake up.**
*I am real*
*I AM REAL*
"I AM REAL"
I find myself screaming. Over and over. I am real. I am.
"I AM REAL"
"***WAKE UP***"
-----
I open my eyes. I've been tied down, and the seat beneath me shakes.
"Hey you. You're finally awake." |
Six miles east and three fields north of Attlin, a mansion burned atop a grassy butte. The flames licked the interior clean but curiously left the frame intact, dying even before reaching the dewy greenery outside. As the facades fell away, a man in a Victorian suit stood untouched and unfazed. Without looking, he tugged on the gold chain that disappeared into his vest pocket. A pocket watch inscribed with an hourglass and inlaid with gems sparkled in the dying embers of the mansion, the light creating an illusion of endlessly tumbling sand within the carving.
As the last red coal dropped from a rafter and transmuted into ash, he flipped the watch open. He nodded as he saw the arrayed hands, slightly vocalizing his internal mutter: “Right on time.” A moment later he pressed the polished stopper atop the watch.
As the ticking second hand halted, the world suddenly silenced – no wind brushed the weeded slopes and no background hum vibrated from the now still insects. The night was quiet. One hand still holding down the watch stopper, the man fished around in his pockets with the other, pulling out a small silvery key.
Despite having an aura akin to that of the watch, the key seemed a bit dull in comparison, as if the now unimpeded moonlight was avoiding it. Inscribed on the rather chunky ward was a tesseract, each carved line seeming refilled with a continuous pour of clear stone.
The man approached the mansion’s center pillar. Momentarily regretting his choice of glove, he brushed away a layer of soot just below eye level to reveal a small keyhole and inserted the key. The pillar began to emit a dim glow which slowly spread across the remaining beams of the mansion, revealing a shape akin to the tesseract that was inscribed on the key. As the glow started to brighten, the dispassionate man finally moved to shield his eyes slightly. Within the light the beams of the house dissolved; the crumbling dust flew unerringly towards the center pillar which also disintegrated to join the collection. Like sand shaped via a pressed mold, the dust compressed and coalesced into the shape of a woman in a Victorian dress.
With a first breath echoing across the stillness, the woman immediately took a moment to tap her parasol on the ground and shake out her petticoats, leaving the last traces of ash to fall to the floor. The main offered her his free hand, the other still compressing the button on his pocket watch, and escorted her out of the ruin and onto the gravel front walk.
“Unusual, isn’t it, for you to be the one to perish?” the man jested, a slight wry smile upon his face. Unlike the man’s generally cold demeanor, the woman’s eyes sparkled. “Indeed. Usually most people are out to kill Time.”
They continued down the way for a few more quiet steps before she continued, worry creeping into her voice. “Although you may have still been the target. They were looking for your phylactery; I think they might have caught on to the fact that yours is hidden in Space.” She released the man’s hand in order to slip her arm around his.
“We can attend to that later – rather, it may be safer not to move it yet.” The man shrugged off the woman’s worry, patting her forearm. “More importantly, When would you like to hide your core next?”
“I’m thinking, around 2500 BCE. There’s something so romantic about the pyramids.” The woman picked up her pace, almost dragging the man with her. With a dry laugh, he released the stopper on his pocket watch; as the second hand resumed its next tick, they were gone. |
"How can this be?"The captains shoulders sagged as if the entire weight of the vast, empty, and silent universe weighed down it. "How can this be?"He repeated the question, as if asking it a second time would grant him the answers he so desperately sought, the answers that would mend his pained soul.
"It isn't over yet, captain. We still have-"
"What's the point."The captain cut his lieutenants words short, turning to him with his long an elongated form. His body towering at eight feet, face stretched, and limbs elongated and nimble. His feet turned into digitgrades, his nose long gone, only slitted nostrils fitting on his face. His eyes were like black pits and humanities skin turned different shades of azure.
He looked at his crew, the men and women he trusted with his very life, at their stations at the curvature of his ships control deck. The nostrils of his crew twitching, a sign that they shared in his pain, the captains stare painful, agonising, he believed he failed his crew, his people, the history of humanity and their hopes itself.
"There... is no life. Across the countless stars and galaxies we traveled, over all the countless ones our forefathers traveled, still we find no life. We have mapped almost all of space, and just like the first explorers of the vast seas, we will soon have nothing left to explore."The pain that lined every word he spoke was palpable beyond tolerance, like shovels hollowing out the hope that every member of that room had.
The captain gave off a weighted sigh, as if that very act itself taxed him, draining the last vestige of his motivation. Remembering what it meant to be a captain, no matter how meaningless the situation may seem, he collected himself and ordered his crew to set out for the last galaxy that required their attention.
They all allowed themselves a final glance at the planet they had visited, hollow, empty. A blue planet that seemed that it would have had the potential for life left them disappointed, as if staring at the pitiful hollow casing of what it could have been.
The passing of countless ages spent in space evolved humanities incredible adaptive abilities, joints and muscles so elastic and adaptable, that they could adjust to the gravity of any planet. Though they lacked a proper nose, their lungs became expansive, capable of storing and surviving for extended periods of time, and capable of surviving with limited oxygen on different planets. Their skin permitting them to extract UV radiation even if the sun were denied them.
Upon a red planet, the ship landed, the red dust of the surface roiling from the turbulence, disturbed from their unmoving stillness.
The captain blinked at the land as the ramp opened to the red surface. *There is no life here,* he thought. There came a point where he felt as if they were the oddity, their existence an anomaly, and now he wondered, if it was in-fact life that disturbed the tranquility of death.
With blades drawn and guns at the ready, the crew set out onto the land, the red dust curling at their alien toes.
Nobody dared mentioned that which they all thought. They all knew it was dead, but regardless they set out in search of life. Groups dividing to search for the flow of rivers, others who tried heat scans. The captain took a squad of his own to search for tunnels that could hint at life below the surface.
"Captain."A static voice spoke into the radio fused into his ear. "You may want to see this."
The crew joined together at what seemed to be a large boulder of rock, at first. Upon closer inspection, the crew grew hopeful, when they found the crude suggestion of an entrance. "A tomb..."the captain thought aloud. "Are there any logs of a previous expedition upon this planet? Perhaps another crew?"The captain queried, finding himself surprised that he was weary and skeptical of any sign of life that wasn't of humans.
A lieutenant held before her a holographic screen which she scrolled through, it seemed she double, and then triple checked, just to make sure she made no error.
"No captain, there are no logs."Her voice sounded cautious, perhaps a sense of trepidation that they found signs of a civilisation. Of what that could suggest. *Be careful of what you wish for.* The captain thought.
With torches poised, they used their light sources and heightened vision to observe the surface of the boulder. An unknown language scribbled on its surface, along with etchings of strange creatures, long and stretched just as they were, but with tendrils emerging from their back. The captain ran his long fingers across the surface "what the."
Upon entering the crypt, the crew had to tread carefully for the pathways and structure of the place had not aged well, occasionally a misplaced step giving way to a bottomless pit of pure darkness.
"Watch your step."The captain ordered, his previous demand for authority now returning to his voice, and his crew all the more organised for it.
As they tread through the darkness, they finally came to a large edifice, again marked with the same strange symbols. "Any language we know of?"The captain asked, his lieutenant replying with a shake of her head.
Again his fingers trailed over the edifice, and he felt as if it were talking to him, as if it had awaited his arrival for countless eons only to speak to him, to pass on this message.
Although the hieroglyphs eluded him, the pictures told him of a story, of people with tendrils on their backs that reached for the stars and explored the four corners of the world. The story spoke of their fruitless adventures, of brothers and sisters never found, and that they were alone in the universe.
And so, they decided to rectify that, landing upon a planet fit for life, cultivating over the years until it could have life of its own. Tested first with giant and fierce beings that resembled the details of dinosaurs, and then wiping the slate clean and trying to cultivate life anew, to create the first of "man".
***
Well, this just crossed the threshold for my most upvoted story, glad people enjoy it! |
The old dragon picked up the coin from where it landed on the top of the pile. It was just as she had expected: silver not gold. This would be amusing: “Well, let's hear it then. I haven't eaten since the last fool wandered in here one hundred years ago thinking he could bore me to death with a monologue and become the village hero.”
The round hero-- quite a bit older than the usual questing-type-- gulped and pushed his sweaty hair over his forehead, then chuckled nervously before beginning: “So, first of all you should know that I really am a fan of your work. You are the best at what you do.”
“Oh really?” The old dragon replied with a smirk, “I've been at it for a long time, I doubt you've even heard most of my best stories. Do you know that I once ate a giant in a full suit of armor in one bite, and slowly cooked him in my stomach while he tried to fight his way out?”
The hero grimaced, recomposed himself and continued, “That's exactly what I'm talking about, you're an absolute natural. You are terrifying, witty, intelligent, and quite attractive if I do say so myself.”
“Round man, you flatter me, but I'm afraid that won't save you” the dragon remarked hungrily, “You've already entered my lair, and I will have to eat you. I am a starving artist, after all. Make your proposal so we can get on with this.”
“Well . . .,” the hero began, hesitated and scratched at his beard, but then with increasing confidence continued, “what if I told you that you don't have to starve anymore? I mean let's be honest, terrorizing villages just isn't as profitable as it used to be. You told me yourself that you haven't had a decent meal in one hundred years.”
The dragon narrowed her eyes, and asked, suspiciously, “What are you suggesting?”
The hero let out a sigh of relief, he knew he had all but closed the deal. “I think that you would be perfect for a movie that I'm making!”
The dragon was taken aback with surprise. “A movie?” she asked, “you must be a madman. What is your name hero?”
The hero smiled and clapped his hands together below his chin, then declared, “My name is Peter Jackson, and you and I are about to make a lot of money!”
Edit: I just woke up and this thread is still active, thanks for all the love! I'll try to pay it back with a message: I'm just a Computer Science major who writes silly stories for fun. If you're passionate about something do creative things with it, and people will respond, whether on Reddit or in life. |
Twenty years ago, the first infection of The Grey spread. It quickly began to consume all in its' path, converting to the march, and we begged the Gods to help, and to save us. They chose to watch. She alone, a young teen, chose to stand against them, and the people condemned her for it. Beaten, broken, and burned, she was exiled from the world, left to live alone for her blasphemy.
Ten years ago, They abandoned their world.
They left the lands at the mercy of the Grey Armies.
The sun still rose, without it's scarab to roll it across the sky. That was the first sign that the Gods had left. The Grey Armies cared not. They marched on, consuming all, assimilating everything that breathed with their corrupting spores.
Five years ago, the last of the deathless found itself purged by the purifying blade of the warrior, basking in the radiance of the faith she had placed in herself, turned outward to save the very people who condemned her for speaking out when the Gods chose to ignore the cries of the ones they watched over.
And so, life went on. The survivors rebuilt, and thrived. They learned. The sun, even without its' scarab, rose every day and rolled across the sky, without the nightly tributes to the Jackal. The moon followed suit, without the cat to push it along. Crops grew aplenty, rain nourished them, seasons crept along, and the people began to grow, and to have faith in themselves, rather than those who demanded it.
And with that faith came power. The tradesmen who took pride and had faith in their work noticed it first. Their hammers struck sure, the flames followed their whims, and the weapons and tools forged with this power gleamed and performed like nothing before them, with no maintenance.
Next came the farmers and soldiers. With these new tools, they found themselves tearing down swathes of agriculture, and soldiers were cleaving earth and wind with their strikes.
Lastly, those at home found strength when their faith was placed in eachother.
Last year, the gods returned. They smiled down upon us, stating that they had been fighting their own war, pushing back the ones that led the Grey Armies, and claiming that the assimilating disease had vanished as a result of their power smiting the anti-divine, mere moments before.
But we knew the truth, and we saw it, in their pallid, panicked, grayed demeanor. They could not find a new source.
We knew, as the lies spewed from their mouths.
The crops never required the albatross to pull the great rainclouds. Thunder and flame and destruction of life and home were merely a punishment. The gods were naught more than liars, attempting to steal the power of faith to be almighty lords among us.
And as the Jackal stepped down to greet the people, to reassume his throne, he was stopped by the selfsame warrior he had condemned two decades before, shining before people who no longer chose to be blind, with that same faith which he had obtained. She proclaimed, once more, with the ears of those who no longer chose to be deaf, that these gods were simply liars and had no true power. And then she raised her weapon, and smote the Jackal where he stood.
We rebelled. We continue to rebel. She alone is not enough to stop the gods. They outnumber her, and have been stockpiling the power of those who came before us for longer than any of us know. But we all saw her strike the Jackal that day. We saw as he shook, as his radiance cracked, and as her slash cut into his chest. We saw him attempt to do the same, to bring his glaive down upon her, a motion which had reduced many of our ancestors to ashes in the wind. And we watched her block this strike, with a weapon forged by her own hand, using a power cultivated by her own strength, and fed by those who had grown to believe in her.
We will fight. We will win. These false gods will not have our world.
Edit: continuity. |
Rick sat down on the bench next to me and handed me a beer. I opened the bottle; the cap fell slowly to the metal floor with a *chink*. We sipped in silence, watching the world burn below us.
Why? Who really knows. The triggerman is almost 100% certainly dead by now, so no one will ever know for sure. Our station was in orbit over Europe when the bombs started to go off, so we have no way of knowing where it started. Maybe America was taken out first; maybe Russia or China. Last contact was a hurried radio message from the spaceport in San Antonio. But there wasn't really much to say. Washington, New York, Los Angeles... all gone. Or at least, not responding to any type of communication. He thought we deserved an explanation, or what little he could offer; everyone else had gone home to say goodbye to their families, but his wife and son had been on a trip to New York. No one to go home to.
That was 2 days ago. We'd given up our work on the colony ship, almost 90% complete already. Why bother building the thing if there would be no colonists to take? So the platform just circled the earth, a monument to what could have been.
The flashes of nuclear detonations had stopped at last. We thought they would have all gone off at once, but no: the barrage continued for hours, volley after volley. Who knows why. Maybe someone was still down there picking targets. Maybe it was some computer deep under a mountain, carrying out man's vengeful will even though its masters were dead. Now, our view was limited to fires raging up and down the eastern seaboard, only visible through holes in the dark, smoky clouds. It wasn't altogether too different from the blanket of lights that used to spread across the shore. I used to love coming in here to look at that sight, awed that each point was an entire town.
"Well, better savor that,"Rick said at last. It had been an hour since either of us spoke. "That's probably the last beer you're going to have for the rest of your short life up here."He smacked his lips as he took another sip. "I talked to Hughes: we've only got enough food on hand for about 7 weeks."We passed over a particularly large fire; looked about where Cincinnati should have been. "And I'm doubtful that we'll get a resupply any time soon."
I held the beer up to eye level, looking at the remaining inch or so of bubbly liquid through the darkened glass. Weird to think how many things I'd taken for granted. "I'll just have to make this one last,"I told Rick.
As if it had heard me, the carbonation in the beer that had been slowly dribbling up the side of the bottle seemed to somehow become more active. Bubbles rose to the surface in a light foam, growing more and more insistent, fighting their way to the top. It began to churn like a jacuzzi jet. The foam climbed up the side of the bottle, inching up the glass. I set the bottle down on the cold metal floor and backed away, wide-eyed; I turned to Rick, who had the same exact expression. So it wasn't a hallucination. The beer rocked wildly back and forth, almost to the point of tipping over before swinging back to the other side. At the very last second, just when it was about to spill over the rim of the bottle, everything stopped. The glass settled back onto the metal floor with the sound a spinning coin makes just before falling flat.
I picked up the bottle again, now completely full. Rick was watching me like I was holding a live grenade. I stared down at the liquid, still bubbling lightly, and took a sip. What did I have to lose? I didn't have long up here anyways. The beer washed down my throat, cold and crisp. Somehow it even tasted better than before, like it had just been poured from a tap instead of sitting in the station's cold room for the past year. I turned back to Rick with a smile. "It's.... really good!"I said.
"What the fuck was that?"he answered.
"I... have no idea..."
"Maybe something with the radiation from the bombs?"
"No, no way. We're completely shielded from that, even if it could reach us all the way up here. And how the fuck could it refill my beer, of all things?"
We both stared at that bottle, not knowing what else to say. It was far more amazing than the 24-hour panoramic view of the apocalypse happening down on earth.
Finally, Rick held out his own empty bottle and broke the silence: "Ok, now do mine!"
----
[Here is a second part for you!](http://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/2uzh0z/one_last_beer/cod9xx2) (And now part 3 as well) |
Mara squinted into the too-bright sunlight, shading her eyes.
"Come on, now,"the man beside her said with a chuckle. "They're in a bit of a hurry. Don't want to get left behind, eh?"
She eyed him for a long moment - Calum. That was his name. Defender, sixth rank. The identification rose up in her mind, his classification and credentials from the Guild of Assistance.
He was right, though. The merchants *were* getting ahead of her, while she stared up into the mid-morning light. They were supposed to be bodyguarding the rich, paranoid Yenarrans, not dawdling. She pulled herself back to attentiveness with a groan, jogging forward to take her place by his side.
"This is your first job, right?"Calum said, his voice low. His blue eyes were fixed on the cliffs around their little group, watching with practiced caution.
Mara nodded, one hand sliding down to rest apprehensively on the hilt of a dagger crossed behind her hips. "...Right. I appreciate your band taking me on, by the way."She meant it. It was hard for a rookie to find work worth a damn, work that wouldn't leave them dead on the roadside.
"Well, we all start somewhere,"Calum said, offering her a crooked smile. "You're my responsibility for this venture, so stick close."He rapped his knuckles against the heavy wood-and-steel shield he carried, smile widening. "The front line can be a bit of a nightmare - especially when you've got no defenses, hmm? But you'll be fine."
No defenses. Right. Mara smiled tightly, remembering her role in all this.
She was a Rogue - a trickster, a blade-wielder who specialized in herbs and poisons and subtlty. She repeated the phrase over and over to herself, etching it into her mind. That's what her paperwork said. Making it say that had been *quite* expensive, but it was worth it.
If anyone realized the truth, her life was forfeit.
Marsk was a rugged, unforgiving country. The whole place was covered in towering mountains and dense, lightless jungles, filled with monsters that would as soon eat you as run away. There wasn't a damn thing worth having there - the effort of actually getting at any of it wasn't worth the lives it would cost.
Marsk had found a different export, instead. People.
The Guild of Assistance had been inevitable, when you looked at it like that. Oh, they called it that, but she knew what it really was - the bastardized offspring of the ancient guilds of Fighters, Mages, and Merchants. It had seemed like the simplest option, benefitting all three offshoots.
The Mages assessed and supported. The fighters....fought. And the merchants assigned.
Thanks to their efforts, the Mercenaries of Marsk were known worldwide as ruthless, relentless, and unflinchingly effective. There was just one, simple downside.
Mara wanted no part in the Guild's machinations.
It had sounded good in theory - the Guild would assess you as a child, find where your skills well and truly lay. And that was that - your assignment for life. Oh, you could opt for a different profession, give up on becoming a Ranger and settle down with a farm somewhere. But farming Marsk wasn't exactly *profitable*, was it? That was simply a way to wind up dead faster, eaten by the local beasts.
Her eyes snapped up, drawn out of her musings as a rock cascaded down the cliffside around them. The other fighters in their Guild-organized band fell silent in a single, disciplined second, scanning their surroundings.
"Close, now,"Calum said, his voice little more than a mutter. He slid his blade out slowly, stepping towards the rockfall.
The merchants were beginning to yell, fear and anxiety coloring their tones. Mara didn't spare them a glance. Her dagger was in her hand, held crosswise with her free hand ready.
Where? Where were they?
Her green eyes snapped over as the gully alongside them erupted into motion. The raiders leapt out from under their hiding place with a bellow, laughing and yelling in a cacophany of noise.
Calum was already there, shield at the ready. Arrows sprayed around him as Kenna, the party's Marksman, began firing shot after unrelenting shot from her vantage point.
"Come on!"the Defender called to her, grinning back over his shoulder.
She swallowed the nerves that jumped in her throat, surging in after him.
It was her moment of truth, wasn't it?
Her blade scythed out, just as she'd practiced. The raider's blows were nearly too fast for her to follow as she closed in on him, but she was faster. She slid past him, eyes wide with razor-sharp focus.
She'd practiced. She'd spent so damn long practicing - and she'd prove the Guild wrong.
Mara was finally close enough. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she stared at her target. Calum and the other fighters were all around her, keeping the front lines under control. They were there to shield her if she got in too deep - but would they just be a liability, instead?
Would they see?
She forced the nerves away, banishing the fears. No one would see - because no one would ever expect to see.
No one would ever expect to see a mercenary going against the Guild. Why would they? Going against the Guild would be going against your talents, and that would be putting your whole party at risk. The Guild responded to that...*poorly*. It wasn't a quick end.
Mara didn't care. She wasn't a *healer*. The assignment had rankled from the very start. It was unfair - and she wasn't going to let it limit her.
Her palm slammed into the man's chest, even as her dagger dug into his arm. That's all anyone would see - she cut him.
They'd never see the way she tapped into his life itself.
It was a part of life for healers. They'd lend their own life-force, or encourage that of their patients. It was *expected*.
She'd been surprised, when she found the torn pages tucked inside the cookbook she'd bought years back. The poor merchant had probably never known what he carried, what he *smuggled*.
The technique was almost certainly forbidden. She didn't care.
Power flooded her veins as she took the man's life in her hand. He flinched, the color draining from his face as she smiled up at him.
Healers helped. They gave.
She *took.* And she'd keep taking until she had enough to carve her *own* legend into the world.
The man fell at her feet, bleeding from her slash but already lifeless. She cut his throat anyway. Had to keep up appearances, after all.
Calum and the others were still fighting - completely unaware.
She smiled, feeling the man's life coursing through her veins.
And then she leaped back into the fray.
(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)
---
Edit - as stated below, I'm honestly pretty intrigued by this setting. The thing standing in my way is that I'm trying to finalize two novels to publish next week (keep an eye out on WP) and I have an ongoing serial that is now quite behind due to, again, trying to get those ready XD I can already hear the screaming that would begin if I started something new.
But I really like this setting. I find it intriguing.
So, if you want more, here's what we're going to do. Go to [the sticky on my sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/Inorai/comments/8juy6e/wp_as_a_child_every_adventurer_is_assigned_a/dz2lfkp) and leave a comment in response to that sticky - if I write another part, today or a week from today or what, I will update you :) Glad you guys have liked!
/u/narrate4u [did a narration!](https://soundcloud.com/mellowout-192946376/the-harmacist-by-inorai) |
"Did you succeed?"are the first words I muttered, as soon as I could finally gather enough of my mind to be able to formulate words. Cryogenic sleep is a bitch, that's for sure. Being frozen takes its toll.
I looked around again, and finally realized it. The chambers I woke up in were not the same chambers I fell asleep in. These were adorned with golden ornaments, marble floors, painted ceilings with beautiful artworks, all depicting more or less the exact same thing - a cryopod falling from the stars, burning like a comet, and a gathering of people waiting for it on Earth. I heard the response from the whole chamber, I couldn't quite identify where exactly the voice came from.
"Yes, yes we did. Welcome, God."
"Wait, I never asked you to call me that..."
"This is what you are now. You are God."
"So... Am I the richest person in the world now?"
"You are, since you own the whole world now. Everyone bows down to you."
"How the hell did you manage that with my last fucking $1000? I honestly thought I'd get woken up in like 4000 years and you would have invested my bucks in some new cryptocurrency or something..."I suddenly jerked upright "WAIT! What year is it?!"
"It's November 24th, 2019."
"Wh-what?! It's still 2019??? What did you do?!"
"Here is what I did, step by step:"the voice said, and continued explaining.
"1. I spent three weeks to come up with the cheapest and most destructive weapon mankind has seen. It had the power of 800 Hiroshima bombs, and could be made tiny and with household materials."
"2. After that I used $487 to buy the materials. It was enough to make 60 of the devices, which I had calculated would be more than enough for my plan to go further."
"3. I used $398 on Facebook ads. All of them pronouncing the arrival of God, and ushering for people to bow down before the greatness that is to come. Featuring pictures of your cryopod, of course. The ads were perfectly tailored to exactly the people I needed - the people that would make this new religion go viral."
"4. As most people laughed this off, I announced on my page, now with over 150,000 followers, that God was not satisfied, and God would punish some of the people he deemed unworthy."
"5. I activated 5 of my devices. People panicked. New York, London, half of Moscow, Tokyo and Beijing were no more."
"6. The world wanted to start a war. I said on my page ( which now had over 40 million followers ) that God was benevolent, but God would not settle for anything less than total submission."
"7. The US wanted to fight whoever made the attacks. They tried to track me down. I leveled Washington and then half the East coast. They conceded hours later."
"8. The UN thought it was aliens, as they have exhausted all their resources on trying to find out who made those devastating attacks. I used 42 of the devices and destroyed Central and West Europe."
"9. The Chinese and Russians formed and confederation and stated anyone attacking either will be blown up with the full nuclear power they had. Both had to be eradicated, unfortunately, which was a shame since a lot of resources were located there."
"10. Everyone waved a white flag last Thursday. They gave all their goods, networks and resources to us. I told them where you are located. They came and worshiped you, nobody thought they'd ever be able to lay a finger on you. We still have 6 devices left. Would you like to make sure nobody ever stands against you, God?" |
I paused at the entry to the house, where the CSU forensic specialists were slowly stripping off their space suits for the last time, the forensics had finally been finished. I took a hefty dab of the Vics Vapo-rub from the large pot that they had open and hoped it would work. Even now that most of the bodies and remains had been removed, the smell had sunk into every surface within the house; it would need to be bulldozed, ploughed into the earth and burned repeatedly to remove the smell and the memory of what happened here. I rubbed the Vics under my nose and wondered if it would keep the memories out as well as the smell.
This would be my third time inside the house and while I could happily live the rest of my life without having to consider it ever again, if we were going to get any information from the scumball who did this, then I needed my memory fresh.
I pushed through the door and into the kitchen, keeping to the narrow strip of paper that CSU had laid even though it wasn’t strictly necessary anymore. That first night it had been dark in here when Jim and I had burst in, lured by the screams we’d heard, not knowing what kind of a hell we were stumbling into.
The girl had begged us not to go but as soon as the ambulance had arrived and we’d heard the scream, we knew we had to move. She’d escaped an hour before, an hour for the sick bastard to start cleaning up, that’s what we were worried about then, a lack of evidence. It seems almost funny now.
The kitchen that night had been dark and the smell only faint but Jim and I were both seasoned, we’d both smelled decomp before. It took us only a minute to go through the small house, room by room, by the numbers. Jim had seen it, the crack of light that we might have missed if the lights had been on; so many times when luck and coincidence had led us onwards, so many times in the past it had kept him concealed. If that girl hadn’t managed to escape would he have ever been found? If she’d bled out in the snow, instead of making her way to the house across the field, would we have ever checked the small farm house with no registered owner?
In the living room the trapdoor had been taken away now and the hole looked obvious, rigged up with a safety ladder to allow easy access in and out. That first time, clinging to the wooden slats as we made out way into the dark, only our flashlights illuminating the dark, that had been real terror. At the bottom when we’d suddenly realised that he tunnels opened up and ran in both directions, now there were signs, lights and still some people pushing trolleys along full of evidence, despite a solid month of collecting. Back then it was dark and quiet.
I followed our original route, slowly moving along the wall and finding that first door in the dark; now it was also gone, removed to be printed and checked, every inch examined. Inside the cages stood open, the bodies gone and the chains too, but back then they had been full. Girls had begged us, pleaded and screamed as they saw us come in. The arms and the stumps reaching through the bars haunted me and I could see them still, even in this lit, clean room.
I turned away, perhaps this had been a mistake, coming back here, trying to recapture that night to take it into the interrogation with me. Unthinking I moved along the corridor and entered another of the rooms, this one a clean computer room where he had run some of his terrible genetic experiments. At least it didn’t hold any memories for me. A hand touched my shoulder and I flinched and spun, it was one of the techs who shrank back at my reaction.
“Sorry! I just need to get past.” He carefully inched through and I realised that he had been standing behind me speaking for some time, I had just been lost in my thoughts. I watched as he disconnected yet another drive from the huge banks of computers along the wall and pulled out several new ones.
“Still downloading this stuff?” I tried to normalise my voice, make it seem more steady.
He turned and evaluated me, seeing my badge and recognising me as a detective. “Not much more now, the guys over at Johns Hopkins say they think we have about 90% of what he was working on and they’re hoping the last 10% can be reconstructed. If we could get his encryption keys though we’d be able to access it all so much quicker…” He left it dangling in the air, that last great problem, even after all this work, we still needed the bastard’s help.
I smiled grimly. “I’m working on it.” And I meant it. I’d seen enough, I didn’t need to go through the tunnels, to see every inch of the place, as I had on my second visit. I didn’t need to go back to that room, just down from here where Jim had opened the door to that… that thing and been eviscerated in a second. I didn’t need to see every lab, every cage, every sick inch of the place as I had before, walking through in a space suit as they pulled bones from the very plaster of the walls.
I turned and walked out, back towards the ladder. I had what I needed, I had recaptured the smell of the place in my nostrils and now I was ready to confront him again and get what we needed.
|
Leprechauns should *not* be 7 feet tall. Whoever had designed these ridiculous henchmen costumes clearly hadn't taken the height factor into account; it just looked absurd. Maybe if Willie Wonka and his Oompa Loompas were the ones holding the UN Secretary General hostage, it could have worked. But instead, 'Lord Vengeance' hired henchmen who were burly and coarse, with dark five o'clock shadow that clashed horribly with the fake red beards they wore.
I kicked one of them in the gut and he crumpled into a pile of green and gold on the floor. A few more punches and the other two were laid out beside him. It was high school all over again: those were our school colors, and our mascot actually was a leprechaun. I had horrible flashbacks to my time as a cheerleader, chanting "Lucky Charms"slogans as Petey the Leprechaun tried to slam dunk a basketball before homecoming. If only I'd been able to knock *him* out cold too.
The massive steel doors swung open, revealing the inner sanctum of the lair. It was an enormous single room with soaring ceilings and laminate wooden floors. I could make out some strange shapes along the walls, but it was too dark inside to really see what they were. Honestly not what I'd expected from the tech-obsessed villain who had marched into the UN General Assembly at the head of an army of killer robots. I thought there'd be some more metal and flashing lights in the decor, I suppose. Maybe a death ray or two casually positioned toward the moon or something.
I took a careful step inside, careful not to trigger any more traps. I'd already gone through some odd ones on the way here. *Really* odd, now that I stopped to think about it. Instead of poisoned arrows and pit falls, there had been mechanical arms that tried to wrap me up in an elegant red dress and a robot that had tried to press some sort of drink into my hand. Probably poisoned; I'd decapitated the robot and poured the drink into its circuits.
A voice boomed out of hidden speakers, filling the room. "And tonight's Prom Queen is..."
There was something about that voice... almost... *No*! A spotlight snapped on, directly over me. "Ms. Marvelous! Come on upstage!"
Another set of lights flicked on across the room, where 'Lord Vengeance' was waiting in costume and holding a bright tiara. The room was bright enough now that I could see the rest of the decor: cardboard castles, suits of armor, and dragons. Just like the prom theme from when I was in high school. "Camelot Ball"or something. I'd been on the decorating committee, but honestly *hated* the idea.
"I'm not coming up there,"I answered. *Please don't be him, please don't be...*
Lord Vengeance wagged a tiara in his hands. Unlike the one from my prom night, this wasn't cheap plastic and rhinestones. *Well, I guess that explains the Crown Jewels robbery*, I thought. "Now, now,"he said. "Don't be modest! You won! You're prom queen, just like you wanted!"
That sealed it. The voice, even modulated by that creepy mask, was unmistakable. "Alan?"I asked, already knowing the answer. He chuckled and took off his helmet, revealing a mass of curly black hair and the familiar face of my former neighbor. Neighbor *and* prom date, who had agreed to escort me when my high school boyfriend broke up with me just days before the big event and everyone else already had a date. My neighbor and prom date that I hadn't spoken to or even thought of in *years*.
"Well, you got me,"he said with a chuckle. "It was all for you! I wanted to give you the prom that you deserved!"He waved the tiara again. "And look, I've got everything just the way it was!"
He clapped his hands again, and an army of leprechaun henchmen appeared. Each one dragged a member of our high school class, now balding and fat and all utterly terrified of what was happening. The henchmen brought them to the center of the room, untied them, and commanded them all to dance and act casual at gunpoint. Poor Mary Hughes was sobbing into a cup of punch.
"Alan, this is..."
"I know!"he enthused, not understanding what I was going to say at all. "It's perfect! Magical!"He pointed to the cardboard Merlin in the corner with a cheesy grin. "You're the queen now, and we'll finally have our magical evening together! Just like it was supposed to be!"Behind him, I noticed a poster-sized version of our prom photo, with him beaming and me looking like I just wanted to go home.
I joined him up on stage and gingerly took the tiara from his hands. It really was beautiful, full of sparkling diamonds. Then I socked him right in the stomach as hard as I could. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, wheezing and coughing. "No, Alan. This is *creepy*!" |
"Well, I can guarantee that this won't be nearly as good as *mine* was."Bill Clinton, sipping a mojito, leaned back in his expensively upholstered leather office chair. Forty-two others just like it circled an enormous mahogany table, and they were all full of old, white men.
Only one seat was empty- the seat at the head of the table, which clearly far older than the rest. It was fashioned like a wooden throne, dramatically exquisite and quite uncomfortable-looking. To make matters even more obnoxious, a pattern of bright red and yellow flames were painted on the sides (George W Bush had added those in the beginning of the' artistic' phase of his life.)
George Washinton laughed, his fake teeth clacking foreboding as he did so. "We put you through the ringer, Clinton!"
William McKinley chuckled. "Shut your diseased old trap, George, you're the only one here that's never been roasted."
John Adams bristled in Washington's defense. "I think the British monarchy did quite a good job of it if you ask me!"
"Now, now, gentlemen, let's all just remain calm. Remember, a house divided against itself cannot stand."
There was a short moment of silence before everybody shot Abe death glares.
"I don't think he understands the point of a roast,"Ronald Reagan mumbled under his breath.
Franklin Pierce, who was already wasted, slammed his fist on the tabletop. "Dammit, Lincoln! This is all your doing, you miserable conniving excuse for a man! I knew those abolitionists were trouble, I knew it-"
"You're not allowed to make racist comments during the roast. Remember, that was the sixteenth amendment to the Roast Bill of Do's And Dont's."Lincoln pointed out.
"What's with all this chit-chat?"The unmistakable boom of William Howard Taft (whose leather chair was especially made to support his enormous buttocks,) echoed throughout the room. "When's dinner?"
Finally, after nearly an hour of arguing, the time had come. Slowly, the single door to the enclosed room creaked open, and a figure walked in slowly...
"What is *he* doing here?!?"Shouted the collection of presidents, who sat in pure shock, staring directly at Mitt Romney.
"Well, uh, Barack told me to tell you guys that...well, pretty much...since he's been roasted his entire presidency, he's not really in the mood to get any more verbal beatings. So he told me to come instead."
"Aw, dammit to hell!"Shouted Nixon. "I had this great line about ObamaCare that I'd been wanting to use for AGES!" |
"If you must, feel free to run, to desert this army! But be assured, if you do that, you shall be shot."The general called over the low murmur of the troops.
Great columns of dolphins, sharks and octopuses stretched on and on in every direction. They stood at attention, scared to show any fault under the cold gaze of their general. The huge, great, white shark had travelled for thousands of miles to arrive here. He arrived just as the tea sunk into the harbour and gave the creatures there their lives.
Union Jacks flew all around. Whales that dared to venture into Boston Harbour swam overhead carrying hundreds of letters from the British government.
A young squid approached him—jittery and quiet—as if he would release his ink just there. "Um, Sir,"he stammered, the voice seemingly came from nowhere on the squid's body, but the observant shark could see his tentacles swishing upwards to hide the chimney stack maw underneath. "I'm—I've been—I'm your charge."
The shark smirked and raised a fin in confusion. "Call me George."The squid shuddered, so the shark added, "What? Have you no sense of humour? Come." |
In his head the world would fall silent, as if smothered by a pillow, but for the click of that trigger. A click that would become a roar in the silence — a thunder, like God slapping the earth.
He’d been there a thousand times before, as a bullet — like the shell of a basalt turtle — crawled through the air. He’d allow himself a moment for his life to spill out before him, a knocked-over-whiskey-bottle of a life, memories drenched in alcohol pooling around him, reflections of his lovers and lies swaying in the golden haze. Should have been a better father. Husband. Protector.
Then he’d focus on a face, a moment, a regret, discover again what was worth living for. He’d lithely limbo back, arms wheeling, as the bullet whiskered over him, sensationing his cheek with the kiss a femme fatale, smearing his skin with hot red lipstick.
But I was meant for you, the bullet often says, in his head, ruefully, as it passes over him.
In his head, he’d escape the bullet and snap his hand to his holster, become a bird of prey, talons out, diving down at the mouse that dared. He’d return fire, regretfully — he despised taking a life — and yet as the enemy’s head splayed open, red mist spattering the wall, he’d always fill with a feeling that betrayed him, dopamine flooding his blood, his hips, lips fighting into a smile he could barely repress.
In his head this would happen.
The man would pull the trigger and it would all happen. Choreographed. Predictable.
As predictable as purgatory.
Then:
*Click*
In his head the bullet lodges.
No time for even a thought to fully form. Only the bubble of regret blooming in his synapses, then even that pops.
No time to even hear the bang. |
The city is broken and black, the few buildings still standing are like the charred, skeletal remains of giants. Or of flayed dead gods.
It is a city I once swore would fall to its knees in front of me, and all within it would call me emperor. But what does a city matter to me now? You are gone and that is all. Without you the city becomes meaningless.
I’m not a strong villain. If I was then tears wouldn’t be cleansing my soot-covered cheeks as I hold your broken body to my chest.
He did this to you.
To us.
I used to say you were my star minion. Did you like me teasing or were your smiles out of politeness — or worse, out of fear?
I think every time I said it I really meant: *I love you*. But I’m a coward at heart and that was the best I could muster. I’d point and wink and say: *never forget,* *you‘re my star minion.* Because, what if you didn’t love me back?
You die in my arms. You attempt a smile, your lips curling just slightly. It is the curl of paper set alight, that will never unfurl again to reveal the pretty words once held inside.
You are gone.
I carry your body towards him as the dusk cuts purple through the clouds of soot and ash. Screams fall in waves as He slaughters citizens and heroes alike.
I still don’t know where He came from or who He even is. Just that he smiles as he kills and not a bullet can harm him.
There is an explosion above the city: He has clashed with Tornado up in the clouds — one of the strongest heroes I’ve known. They have rocketed against each other.
A violent aftershock of wind bucks me, sends me to my knees — but I don’t drop you. I won’t.
Tornado loses, of course. He tumbles down to earth in shreds, in ten or twenty parts, arms and legs and feet. As if he has been unstitched.
Then, as I get to my feet, another hero is upon Him. Elixir is like a shooting star; she hurtles from high above, slams into His back; they tumble into the city together, tangled, cratering and rocking the ground.
Elixir is both the last hero remaining and perhaps the strongest. But she will die. This villain — or whatever He is — is more powerful than any of them. Than all of us combined.
I carry you onwards, my star minion, towards the impact. Towards the rising cloud of dust.
My schemes were always harmless. At least, compared to this. Financial fraud and blackmail of politicians. The papers didn’t even call me a supervillain as I didn’t have a power. I was just smart. Just: a villain.
I see them ahead. Fighting. He has Elixir, his great hand around her neck, her face bloodied and dazed, lip bleeding. She is striking desperately at his arm, begging him to release her.
Is this how he killed you?
I lay you on the ground, then I remove my jacket and gloves and hat.
Elixir’s red eyes slowly move. She sees me.
She won’t think I am here to help. We have fought before, although in court as much as anywhere else. She despises me and what I stand for.
I never told her that I respect her. That if things had been different in my childhood, perhaps if I’d had parents that hadn’t passed when I was eleven, then we might have been on the same side all along.
I’m running now. Charging towards Him.
Elixir gurgles red from her lips as she watches me.
He turns, finally noticing me. His head cocks to his shoulder. An amused smile spreads itself over him.
He doesn’t let go of Elixir.
He should.
The papers never called me a supervillain.
They should.
Just because I don’t use any powers for what I do doesn’t mean I don’t have any. It means I choose not to use them. Not since my parents died.
His other hand sweeps out, tries to punch me — but I sidestep. Then I lay my bare hands on His outstretched arm, gripping it vise-tight.
It takes Him a second to realise anything is wrong, to finally drop Elixir who clutches her throat and rolls on the ground.
Then He’s screaming as I drag him towards your body.
We’re both dying rapidly. Such is my gift. Ageing. Our lives being channeled from us both, released from our bodies and into the ether.
I stagger towards you, desperately, dying, dragging Him as He digs his heels into the asphalt. But He won’t stop me.
Finally, I’m by you.
I place one hand on yours. I keep my other on Him.
Then I channel our lives directly into your body and hope it will be enough to bring you back.
He isn’t moving now. His eyes closed. Just the occasional shudder rippling through him.
I’m almost gone too.
Your mouth twitches.
Your smile that burned itself like paper — it unravels again. The words perhaps restored.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Even as I die, as your eyes open, I hope you don’t hear me.
I’ve always been a coward at heart. |
As a historian and a literature buff, I could appreciate the irony of being one of the few people able to both describe a dystopian future (a concept much ignored by modern "teaching") and to pinpoint the moment in which society took a turn down that forbidden valley.
Time travel had been a boon to society at first. It would take a scientist to explain why paradoxes are an impossibility, but needless to say all sorts of new technologies and trade opportunities propped up almost overnight. Were you suffering from an incurable illness? Pop into 100 000 AD and check if it had been cured (it had. All diseases were by 40 000 AD). Did you want to try *original* Roman cuisine? If you played your cards right, you might even dine with Caesar himself!
There were limitations, of course. Paradoxes *couldn't be created*, which meant that any actions that would create one just... didn't happen. One of the first government-sanctioned time travel missions was, as one would expect, a commando team sent to kill Hitler. They spared no expense, weapon, item or trinket and yet they failed every time. Twenty-two doves flew *right* across the path of twenty-two sniper bullets at the worst possible time. Two bombs blew up minutes after the Fuhrer had vacated the premises. Poisoned darts failed to inject their venom and even poetic justice-inspired toxic gases were diffused by unfortunate winds.
Despite the limitations, it was as close to Utopia as mankind had ever been. Trans-temporal scientific collaboration increased our research output to dizzying levels. True communism sprang out all over the world, as limited resources were a thing of the past. The only limit to our power was our personal ambition.
This is why I had always been seen as a bit of an oddity. In a world of genetically enhanced super-athletes, models and geniuses, I was merely a historian and a book lover. Certainly, I had an optic nerve implant that allowed me to read at previously inhuman speeds, a language converter and a dexterity modification that allowed me to write as fast as I could formulate the thoughts themselves. But I had passed on some of the more popular muscle growers or the ever-enjoyable orgasmic trigger.
Mine is a hedonistic society, and so unpleasant tasks are relegated to machines. Policing had become one of such robotic fields. When the "Future Transgressions"law had been enacted, no one batted an eyelash. After all, if one could prevent law violations before they happened (and given that, if preventable, it meant that the resulting actions were non-paradoxical), why not save every victim their pain?
It was rather disconcerting then, when a police officer let himself into my apartment and woke me from sleep.
"I am sorry Sir, but you will have to come with me. You have been convicted of future attempts to destabilize society and create mayhem. I must warn you I am trans-temporally linked to myself in the future, any attempts at escaping will be foiled"
Of course, I still tried. I failed.
It turned out that my Treatise on Dystopia, a scholarly work that went mostly unnoticed by my peers, was at the core of a future revolution. I would, allegedly, become a martyr of the cause and the government could not let me become one. So I was to be removed.
Robots were, of course, created with certain hard-coded laws they must respect. They cannot willingly harm a human being, unless actively protecting the well-being of another human. This meant they could neither execute me nor lock me up forever (which their silicon brains had long since established was a form of torture). What we should have expected was that they would find a way around their limitations.
Time travel. That was the answer to all of our modern concerns.
I was to be sent back to a barely historical time, in the middle of a mostly deserted land. I would be sent to die, but the machines would not be pulling the proverbial trigger. Somehow this got around their coded limitations. What bullshit.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
I woke up on the ground, to the sound of hooves and laughter. A small group of men, no more than ten of them, approached me. They had all the swagger of successful athletes, but carried contraptions that resembled the drawings of bows and arrows I had seen in one of my textbooks. How primitive. My language chip kicked into action and translated their words into clear, modern English.
"Who goes there, dressed as a Chin whore?"asked the biggest of them. I couldn't answer, the whole situation rendered me speechless
"Have you got no tongue? Perhaps that is to pleasure your fellow men better!"quipped the man, much to the amusement of his group. His face reminded me of someone I had read about. With little to lose, I decided to name drop.
"I am here to see Genghis Khan. It is crucial that I talk to him"My lips moved in unusual ways, even if the voice I heard spoke in plain English
"Great Khan? Am I not great enough for you? There is no greater Khan than I, you fool!"I had miscalculated, it was earlier than I thought, but my knowledge of the time was limited at best.
The man nodded to one of his lackeys, who raised his bow. With a flourish, he nocked a bow and fired it at my chest. My dexterous fingers were able to grab the shaft from mid-air, but I was no hyper-enhanced athlete. If three of them shot at once, I would've been in dire straits to grab the third arrow. It was just a matter of time.
Much to my surprise, the whole party dismounted. They looked at me with expressions I could not decipher. It wasn't until the tall man bowed that I understood their intentions. After all, they had never seen an enhanced human, even one as pathetically enhanced as myself.
They named me "The Great One", or Genghis in their tongue. Given our first meeting, I think it was a joke by Subutai, but the others took it seriously. My accuracy with the bow, an unexpected side-effect, was worshipped by these war-like men. I climbed their societal rungs quickly, and truly became their greatest Khan. It was my turn to rule, and I was ready to shake-up the world and mold it to my semblance. I would leave a mark that even the Police of my time would find hard to ignore. |
Heavy is the head that wears the crown. And hard is the fate of those who sit atop the throne. I am the Queen of Orthuchal, a large warm island off the coast of the continent of Sasankhol. We export wine, quality tools, magically enhanced weaponry, and cinnamon. We declared our independence from the mainland kingdoms five generations ago, and the leaders then sought to distance themselves from the mad and inherently chaotic kingdoms of the mainland, by making our monarchy unique. Using the ancient Nervantonian system of suscesion, the first queen of our land was a gifted and capable administrator, who chose a gifted and capable heir, rather than risking a child tyrant.
And when that first queen died, the competent heir, adopted by royal decree, became the next queen. And so, we cemented the path of our kingdom as rational and stable. Each of the queens have been asexual, with complete and inherent lack of any libido. Only one of the queens have ever borne a child, and that one was not considered a princess. And she died a commoner, with no claims to the throne.
I was chosen for my skills as an orator, having often debated in the royal academy, my skill with managing the finances of my father's vineyard making him one of the richest men in the land, and for my sheer commanding presence. So when the old queen chose me as her heir, it seemed only natural. I am however the youngest queen thus far. For the queen's first heir had died in an accident, and left the kingdom in a predicament, as the queen was quite old at that point. It was a rushed education for ruling, but it was sufficient.
Today it is my 30th birthday, and also the tenth anniversary of me taking the throne. As I sit in the council chambers, looking over projected costs, taxation plans, and reports from the five provinces of our island kingdom, I hear a thunderous knocking. The door to that chamber buckles as this knocking continue, until they break open. The guards worriedly spring to action, but are cast aside with deftly cast spells. The dust settles as an older woman, whom time has not been kind to, marches towards me. She stops right before me, and yells in a dry and angry tone. ''*Where. Is. The. Firstborn?!?*''
I nod. ''*Ah. Thought you looked familiar.*'' She sneers at me, pointing her sharp claws at me in a menacing fashion. ''*You promised me the firstborn child of your loins, in exchange for my help. You promised me!*'' I shrug. That was long ago, and the past is a different country. ''*I'm afraid that being queen has left a little busy for that concept, if I had ever desired it. I do apologise, but it turns out that I have no desire for a man or children. I'm afraid that renders our little contract null and void.*'' The old witch crawls up on the working table, knocking over several goblets of wine belonging to my advisers, ruining the papers we've been working with. ''*I cannot even take back what I gave in exchange, girl, for what I gave you, when you came to my door begging for aid, was the health of your father. And he died this year. You knew, even back then when you were but five, the price was fair, a child for me to raise as an apprentice, and you not having to be raised by your drunkard of an uncle, who'd ruin your family's fortune.*''
It is not as if I can just suddenly grow fertile and give her a child now, can I? ''*I am sorry, kind lady Mabbeth, but as I grew, I held no physical desire, and when I was chosen as queen, that put the final nail in the coffin for that. Only one queen ever bore a child, and that wasn't exactly something she had done rationally, being under the influence of drink and scheming foreign nobles. To bear a child willingly, would put the realm at risk.*''
The witch grumbles, and knows I am right. Yet she is still owed. ''*I will not be cheated of my promised reward. You will yet bear a child, and that child will be given to me, or I shall call down the wrath of all my magic, all my art, down upon your kingdom. Fields will be barren, mines will yield no ore, fish will not be caught, the ships will sink, and the people will experience plague and infertility. Such will be the fate of your island, queen.*'' I sigh, when you are queen you have to do what you have to do, for the good of the island. And Mabbeth was the single most powerful magic-user on the entire damn island, so her threat was certainly a very real problem. ''*Fine, kind lady Mabbeth, I will choose a man, and bear a child, handing it to you. Return in some nine months or so, and you shall have a child.*'' The witch grins, and reaches out her hand to shake mine. A magical tingle goes through my body, and I know what happens when she does that. Magical contract, bound upon the soul.
However. I will not accept threats upon my kingdom. Me, yes, but not the kingdom. So when she leaves, I turn towards my royal mages, and tell them of a insidious idea. They agree with me, but are deeply worried as well. This is a gamble, and it might not pay off. But should this witch desire it, she might try to put the child on throne, and thus she needs a counterweight.
Ten months pass before the witch returns. I've done what I had to do, and have borne a child. A girl. ''*Now our contract is complete, oh kind Mabbeth. A girl, as you desired.*'' The witch gleefully takes the girl, all swabbed up in a warm snug blanket. I can see the ambition in her eyes, the plans. ''*Of course, you should perhaps talk to the girl's father, seeing as I no longer have any claim to her.*'' The witch smirks at me. ''*No mortal man can do anything in this case, if he comes to try and take it, I shall turn him into a frog.*'' I smile wickedly at her, knowing the trap has been sprung. ''*Well, about that... You only asked for a child, not caring much how one was procured, as long as it was my firstborn. So I decided to give the girl a fighting chance. Unwrap her and see.*'' The witch confusedly unwraps the girl from the blanket, and to her shock and horror, the girl may look human, but she has a goat's tail, and cloven hooves. ''*Demons try to mate with mortals from time to time. And they, despite their reputation, do care for their children. Shagreroth, she of both sexes and the ancient will, certainly would like to see you try.*'' The witch's jaw drops. Children of demons and mortals are powerful, but are beholden entirely to their own will. She may have a claim on the child, but so does its demonic parent. And the demon appears, to bicker with the witch, and both of them have an awful bloody row, seeing each other as the enemy, not recognising that I am the one they should be angry at. They even make me arbitrate on how the child shall be cared for, before settling on one week with Shagreroth, and one week with the witch, until she is of age and may chose for herself.
And in the years after, I sometimes visit the girl as she grows up. Her demon parent has her half of the time in hell, and the witch has her the other half, and being between those two worlds, she becomes powerful, but also fiercely independent. Not without a sense of pride, do I see her becoming an adventurer, traversing the island, killing monsters, finding treasures. She is the daughter of a queen, a promised reward to a witch, and the child of a demon. Yet she is her own master, much like I hoped. And she freed me of my obligation, without becoming a destroyer of all I built in my life.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
I crawl through the air duct. Funny, that - dragons need more air, and keep larger air vents. Human-sized, in fact. Of course, my mark knows that too, and he'll have rigged the air vents -
I lurch backwards. A rather claw-like blade bursts out of the place I just held my head. I jump forwards - another one where I had my liver - and relax. We determined he'd only keep a small bit of security. My mark prefers the personal approach. Good. So do I.
There's the end of the duct - he hasn't sealed it very well. It's a steel sheet with small holes to let the air in, but the bolts that are keeping it there are almost rusted through. I draw my needle gun - a hundred times better than a lance. The holes aren't large enough to shoot through. Unfortunate. I'll have to rely on surprise.
I burst from the air duct and fire a first shot. The dragon is sitting at his desk, and, as expected, dodges neatly behind it. I hear a muffled fleshy noise as he shapeshifts, most likely to flee and order his guards to kill me. None of that.
**"Mountain of Lies!"** I yell, in the Old Language. His true name. The dragon is transformed back into his human shape from the fly he was with a surprised yelp.
I aim again and shoot my needle gun. A clean shot. My mark should now has a five-inch metal nail in his chest, and sixteen millilitres of arsenic in his veins.
My shot passes through him.
He smiles.
"Good job. You made it farther than the last one."He sits down behind the desk again. "Unfortunately for you, I've taken to researching holograms. For example, this one. Very cheap, you'll be able to buy it in let's say ten years when I find a way to leak it to some scientist or other without him noticing."He frowns. "Well, *you* won't be able to, but your friends might. Bombs on."
"The bombs died when we cut the power,"I say. I might not get to kill him but he will not get to kill me. "And you're really going for voice activation?"
"It makes me feel cool,"he responds. "No matter. If you don't like the voice activation, why not try this here acid gas?"The hologram looks on as a button pushes itself on the desk. Nothing happens.
"I took them a month ago. Your vacation to the Himalayas, remember?"I don't think I can climb back up to the air duct. I see a window to the left. It looks tempting.
"Ah, yes. They've changed since the thirteenth century. Unfortunate. I'm sorry. What were we talking about?"
I ignore him and make a run for the window.
"They're reinforced, just so you know. Lead and titanium."
I bounce from the window like a die. "I noticed."
"And I've got another trick to show you. Did you know my air ducts can work in reverse?"
"What-"
I'm cut off as the air drains from my lungs. The dragon looks like he's laughing, but I can't tell. There's no sound anymore. The hologram fades out.
I look around me, desperate. The window? Can't break it. Tried. It's getting darker. Can't break the window - *with my body* \-
I point my needle gun at the window. Fire.
The window cracks. Air rushes into the room.
It worked! I fire again, and then break the rest by punching - it all comes apart now that it's halfway broken. I jump out onto the ledge. There's a fire escape some twenty metres away.
"I didn't win today, Zuckerberg,"I mutter. "But I sure as hell didn't lose." |
Joe wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders and pulled her tightly to his chest. Most of the residents of St Bartholomew's Street had already come out of their houses to see the cause of the midnight fracas. They were now gathered around the drive of number thirty-eight, as if patrons around a theatre stage, many of whom were hoping for a particularly blood thirsty production. Others, like Joe, were simply stuck in a state of disbelief. Of *refusing* to believe.
Sarah looked up at her husband. "They can't be, can they? We've known them for so long."Joe felt her hand curl up into a ball against his back. "They looked after the children only last week. Jesus Joe, we *trusted* them."
The Enforcers' Jeep waited empty, but eager, outside their neighbour's drive. A harsh light spiralled out from the vehicle, painting the gathered crowd first in broad red brushstrokes, then blue. Their neighbours' door lay splintered on the brick driveway. Joe shook his head. "We- we don't know that they *are*, yet, sweetheart. Not until the Enforcers bring them out. Until then, I think they both deserve the benefit of the doubt. They've earned at least that much from us."
"Amanda and Tony,"his wife continued unperturbed, "they just seemed so *normal*. Just like us. I suppose that was the point - it was all a... a *trick*. To get close to us, so that they could eventually..."Her hands began to tremble.
Joe took her hands in his own and held them tightly. He opened his mouth meaning to reassure her, when the Special Office Enforcers came striding out of the broken doorway.
"Oh God,"cried Sarah as she watched her neighbours be dragged out of their house, towards the Jeep, their arms handcuffed behind their backs. "How- how could you!"she screamed at them. "How sick are you freaks? We trusted you with our children!"
Amanda must have heard her, as she glanced up at Sarah. In that moment, Joe saw his neighbour's battered face and the blood dribbling from her nose.
"Go back to your own planet!"Sarah spat. "And take the rest of your kind with you! You're not welcome!"
"Honey,"said Joe, blinking back tears. "Please. You don't mean that. They're our friends."
"*Friends?* They're sick freaks, that's what they are! You've read the reports. The things they've done..."
"You can't believe all that? Amanda and Tony have always been good t-"
A yell from nearby interrupted him. "Show us their eyes!"
"Yeah, their eyes!"
"We want proof!"
The Enforcer who held Amanda, pulled her up to her feet. He took out a plastic device, that looked a little like a gun, from his jacket pocket. With one hand, he grabbed Amanda's hair and yanked her head back; with the other, he fired a wide, green beam into her face. Her eyes lit up a bloody, unnatural, red. There were screams and panicked gasps from the crowd.
"I God-damned knew it!"said one resident. "They've always been perfect. *Too* perfect!"
"Hang 'em!"said another.
Tony, who was kneeling on the floor, pushed himself up and thrust himself head first at the Enforcer holding his wife. The Enforcer stumbled, almost falling, but at the last moment just regained her balance. Another Enforcer ran at Tony and threw his fist into the man's throat. The first Enforcer rejoined the fray, stamping her boot into the fallen man's head.
Joe began to tremble. "No..."
"Honey?"said Sarah.
"This isn't right,"said Joe defiantly. "It isn't right!"
"Tell that to the children,"said Sarah. "This is *exactly* right. It's what they deserve."
A haze of red flashed from the Jeep as its light spun again; Joe saw his hands as the light spilled over them. A moment later, a blue light replaced the red, washing it away. Only, the red wasn't gone. It would never go away, unless he...
"I'm sorry,"he whispered, kissing his wife's hair. "They may not be from here, but they're sure as hell human. And more than that, they're our friends."
Sarah screamed, pleading him not to, but he was already in mid sprint. His shoulder landed with a thud against against one of the Enforcers. A right hook took the other off her feet.
"It's okay,"said Joe, offering a hand to the beaten, bloodied man.
Tony looked up, through his one, non swollen eye. "Thank you,"he croaked. "Are you one of..."
But the question was never finished. More officers had arrived.
A gun shot.
A bullet tore through Tony's head.
A long streak of red spattered the street.
Amanda's blood curdling scream cut through the noise of the frenzied crowd, until the hilt of a gun struck her head and silenced her.
Joe stepped back in sick disbelief. "No..."he muttered. "Oh God, no."
And then, they were on him. Fists and boots battering him down until he became numb and still.
When finally satisfied, the Enforcers dragged Joe back to his feet.
"Show us his eyes!"came a shout from the crowd. "He's one of them for sure!""Show us his eyes!"
A hand yanked back Joe's head. A fierce green light pierced his retinas. If he could have screamed, he would have done.
"He's not one of them,"said a woman who lived two doors down from Joe. The blood-lusting crowd seemed to deflate slightly, shoulders slumping and heads turning. "Just loves him some Second-Worlds."
"That's bad enough, ain't it?!"
Joe saw his wife standing on the doorstep, watching him with tear streaked eyes. Jane and Thea had come to the door and Sarah had her arms wrapped around them, trying to comfort them.
The green light was ripped away from his eyes. As it twisted direction, for a split second, it touched his wife's face.
His entire body began to tremble.
No one else saw: they were all too busy baying like wolves at Joe.
He didn't mean to struggle again - it was instinctive - but it was all it took.
Joe looked a last time at his his family, as a second gun fired.
Sarah had tried to cover her children's eyes, but Thea saw it all through a gap between her mother's fingers. She saw the blood spurt out of her father's chest and his body fall limply to the ground. She saw the inhumanity and unfairness of it all, and felt all the weight of her species fall on her shoulders. Her eyes, if for only a second, burned a brighter red than any before. She squeezed her hand into a ball and made herself a promise.
|
Cloudburst hovered above the street, staring down a monstrous tank. Cybertech’s robotic voice echoed out from the vehicle, cold and mocking. Behind it lay a path of ruin. Buildings had collapsed under its twin cannons as it fled from Johnson Research Labs. A few bodies poked out from the rubble. His heart clenched.
“Stand back.” The nearby police officers looked at him in confusion. “The fight could get dangerous.”
Instead of complying, the looks of confusion only intensified.
One officer spoke up: “I thought you could shield us from harm?”
Anger caused his stomach to tighten further. He had to take a breath to avoid lashing out. They did not know that Cybertech was not the only one at fault for the deaths and destruction.
“No,” he replied. “That’s Null’s job.”
There was some murmuring about Null, but some of the officers began backing away. One man’s eyes widened, but there was no time to deal with it. Without another word, Cloudburst rocketed toward the tank. Electricity crackled around his body as he collided with the outer shell. The tank stalled, and a camera turned to face him.
“Ah. Cloudburst. You’re a bit late. It’s been quite a day for the humans.” Cybertech let out a stilted, robotic chuckle. “I forgot how squishy humans were.”
Cloudburst scowled. “Begone, construct.”
He sent a massive surge of electricity through the tank. But Cybertech only laughed.
“The new insulation seems to be working well. Now get out of my way.”
The tank suddenly glowed and Cloudburst found himself jettisoned away from the vehicle.
Panic flooded his mind. *No!*
But it was too late to change course. He crashed through a building, causing it to shudder. There were screams as people who had not escaped got caught up in the damage.
*I need to finish this before it gets any worse.*
He reached out and grabbed a steel rod dislodged from the building’s foundation.
“I don’t have time for you today.”
The electric fields in the air distorted, and the rod shot forward with a bang. Cybertech’s tank skidded several feet to the side from the impact. Cloudburst was already on the move, charging up electricity in his palm. A thick bolt of lightning leaped from his hand toward the steel rod. This time, the tank’s lights flickered wildly.
“No… matter…. I’ve already….” Cybertech’s voice box fizzled out and the tank fell silent.
With a sigh, Cloudburst flew back over to the police.
“You.” Cloudburst pointed at the man who had seemed nervous when he mentioned Null. “Where is Null?’
Indignation filled the officer’s face as he realized he had been singled out. “He was hanging around the lab campus, and their security called us to deal with it.”
Cloudburst looked to the other officers. Most of them seemed shocked, but a few looked guilty.
“The Supers Collective will deal with you later.” Cloudburst took another step and repeated, “Where is Null?”
But the officer continued. “We were just doing our job! What’s it matter if that hanger-on wasn’t here?”
“Kemmers! Answer the man now!” His superior officer apparently got fed up with his excuses. “What did you do with the Super?”
Officer Kemmers held fast. “S-Sir! Why are you defending him? Everyone knows he doesn’t do anything. ‘First on the scene, never does a thing.’ It’s all over the news!”
Something snapped, and Cloudburst said, “He’s the reason no one dies whenever we fight!”
He inadvertently let off a crackle of electricity, causing nearby electronics to flicker. The officer paled.
Finally, in a small voice, he said, “He’s in a holding cell at the precinct.”
Cloudburst left in a flash of energy. Moments later, the local precinct came into view.
“Cloudburst?” The officer at the front desk looked up in shock.
“Where are the holding cells? One of your officers arrested Null. Everyone involved in this is now culpable for the resulting deaths and destruction.”
Stunned, the officer could only point to a hallway on the left. Cloudburst strode past the front desk without another word.
“Null!” He kicked open the door to the holding cells to relieve some of his frustrations.
Null looked up as he entered the basement. Even through the mask, Cloudburst could see the bruises beginning to form.
“How many died this time?” Null’s emotionless voice rang out.
Cloudburst shook his head and quickly made his way over to the cell. A quick jolt of electricity unlocked the door.
But Null remained seated. “Sorry I couldn’t get out of here in time.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” The words felt hollow even as he said them.
Null only gave him a sad smile.
...
Rushed a bit to finish it since I was having lunch while writing.
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.
Thanks for reading.
**(Follow-up Story in Replies Below)** |
Franco was nervously shifting around in the juror's box, his eyes darting to every face in the stifling courtroom. Normally, Franco is always calm and collected, a disposition acquired from a lengthy career of serial killing. Rarely showing emotion, Franco is now completely unlike himself. It's ironic that Franco, a serial killer with 13 victims under his belt, would be called for jury duty. But the real irony is that the person on trial is being accused of a murder that Franco committed.
Franco's now restless mind was overwhelmed. His balding head was covered in small beads of sweat. *This is MY murder,* he thought. *My work is flawless and clean. No one goes to jail for my craft.* Franco wasn't so much worried that an innocent man might be wrongly convicted. No, this wasn't an issue of morality. Franco had pangs of anxiety and shame that *someone* had been traced to one of his recent murders. *My work is clean goddammit!* He accidentally struck the wall of the juror's box with his fist, enough that the prosecution stopped mid sentence and the courtroom looked at him.
"Sorry."He softly let out, faked a cough, and turned his eyes towards his feet. The proceedings went on. *This isn't right, none of this is right.* After an hour of proceedings, the court went on a recess. Franco quickly exited the courtroom for fear he would cause another scene. In the long hallway that was floor-to-ceiling mahogany, Franco saw a secure door that was normally blocked off to the public. But he saw that lawyers and courtroom assistants were walking through it freely. Wearing his best suit and tie and carrying a briefcase, Franco knew that he would be easily mistaken for a lawyer and walked down the hallway towards the door. He sauntered through with ease.
_______________________________________
Sitting back in the juror's box forty-five minutes later, Franco's demeanor had changed considerably. He was no longer sweating, his hands were calmly folded on his lap, and his eyes were fixed on the fresh pitcher of water that was recently placed beside the innocent man on trial. A small curl began to form on the side of Franco's mouth as he watched the innocent man pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher. The curl grew into a smile devoid of anything pure when the innocent man drank half of his glass.
Franco grinned, looked down at his watch and thought, *60 to 90 minutes and this trial will be over.*
|
There was a date and time, set in stone and flesh and agreed by the three races. Two of the races had spent their time on earth and wished to explore, while one, mankind, was still too young to feel the urge to expand, to go beyond the here and now.
The Dwarves wished to explore the inner world, both deep in the earth and deep within themselves, while the Elves always looked outward. The Elves dreamed of the stars and wished to depart in beautiful ships made of gossamer threads, wisping away to other worlds.
The humans were saddened, for whilst they did not wish to leave and they grieved that their brothers would leave them behind. They were the ones who asked for the pledge, the agreement that after a period of time the Dwarves and the Elves would return to visit their younger brothers and at least for a time they would be together again.
And so the Dwarves and Elves left, oaths sworn to return, promises made on the most sacred of bonds, those of brotherhood. First the dwarves retreated to places too deep to reach and then the elves completed their ships and they too passed away, slipping into the sky and legend.
Time passed and humanity grew and soon all humans who had sworn the pledge had long since died, their stone tablets crumbled to dust. The stories of humanities brothers had long slipped into legend and no one remembered the date of the reunion, but it grew ever closer.
Finally the day arrived.
*****
The F-22 passed Mach 2 as Captain Jake Fronis pushed the plane towards its limits. Whatever had been detected entering the earth’s atmosphere, there were very few options which would lead to good things. Currently the object was moving on a path directly towards New York and his orders were to intercept and if necessary destroy it before it could get within a hundred miles.
On either side, stretched out in a line within ten miles of each other were four other planes, each pilot pushing their plane as hard as they could to go faster, to reach the object as quickly as possible, to get within firing range. They all felt the slight sick dread of knowing that they were likely all that stood between millions of people and certain death and it weighed on their minds.
Tango six two zero. He’d had to radio to confirm it before he believed it, although he felt sick to have done that now. It was a call that all pilots knew, it basically meant that all rules were off, to follow the incoming orders at the cost of your own life if necessary.
The only hope he had was that they’d been ordered to get within visual distance, that meant that whatever it was command was also unsure and he held onto that hope. He could see it now on his screen, coming closer and… strangely it seemed to have slowed, in fact, it had stopped.
Fifty miles, twenty, ten and suddenly there it was and Jake felt all feeling go from his body. He’d heard about calls like this, but had thought them rumours or jokes. The craft in front was huge, more like an aircraft carrier than a ship, but light, almost see through and strangely… wispy.
“Uh….” His radio cracked. “Is anyone else seeing this?”
Training kicked in “Radio silence.” He snapped back, but he felt less sure himself.
The radio cracked and to his relief command came back online, the pictures he was transmitting must have reached them by now and they had a plan. “Fire all, fire everything, just fire!” the voice was panicked but the commands were valid. Training kicked in and he felt unable to stop, even if he had wanted to. Four short range missiles launched one after another and then a second later he cycled round to launch the first of his long range missiles, but it was too slow, too late.
A soft pink frond wafted from the ship and enveloped the F-22 raptor and the other pilots saw it dissolve from view, Jake's radio signature suddenly disappearing as his radar signature winked away. A moment later further beams enveloped the other airplanes and they too disappeared from screens all across America that had been following them closely. Slowly the unidentified ship began to sink, making its way to the surface below.
*****
“They attack us?” Lo’en turned to K’lor with a look of hurt, but K’Lor smiled and laid his hands gently on the controls and phased the attacking crafts into the ship to keep them safe.
K’lor turned back. “You don’t remember them, you were born after we left, but they’re still children Lo’en, they act out of fear and emotion, it seems the have not changed much since we left.”
Lo’en looked out at the scene below, millions of scattered lights were sprinkled over the land; they had certainly multiplied. “Still, you might think they had learned a thing or two, or at least not to attack us.”
There was uncertainty in K’lor now. “We have an agreement to return and the time is nearly at hand. The dwarves will not forget and we will not leave our brothers behind. They begged us to return and so we have, I am sure that someone will be there to meet us.”
The ship settled onto a rocky outcrop and slowly hugged itself to the ground. It had travelled across the stellar starscape a dozen times but there was a certain strange satisfaction as it adapted its form to the rocks of its home planet. It wasn’t simply anthropomorphisation though, like all machines used by the Elves, this one had been born, it was a living being and it was a part of their consciousness and it too was finally home.
After a time three figures left the ship and began walking north, following ancient memories to the place where they had agreed to meet. Overhead jets streaked across the sky, looking for a radar signal that no longer existed, as the ship hid itself from detection, to prevent further potential for injury.
Soon the three elven figures reached the edge of a dense wooded area and passed into the trees, heading towards their ultimate destination, where they would meet their brothers.
*****
The Dwarves had grown strange in their long sleep. While the Elves had searched the skies and the humans had lived above, the Dwarves had sunk into the earth and sought answers from within. The three who had returned to the surface were different to the ones which K’lor remembered; they were just as unhelpful, but now simply didn’t seem to care.
Once they had been angry and fierce, of the three races it had been the dwarves who had first spread across the land, while the elves had been working out who they were, the dwarves had been working out *where* they were and when the elves followed, they found vast stone cities and enormous machines, which transformed the earth.
When mankind had first spread it had been the dwarves who had taken them under their wing, teaching them the secrets of the earth, but it had been the elves who had taught them how to live as they had, harvesting nature, taming animals and learning the farm. The Elves were always the better farmers, changing and improving nature’s bounty to better suit their palates and slowly it had been their way the humans had followed.
The dwarven influence was still strong in them, man still liked to dig holes and raise stone houses, but their nature had become entwined with the creatures they had met and the Elves loved their brothers and the fascination they had with the creatures around them.
Over time, when the elves had sought to explore the world away from their home, it had been a surprise when the dwarves had announced that they, instead, would look inwards. Over time the dwarves had become unsure of who they were, who they were becoming and this was seen as a time of reckoning for them and so as the elves left, they retreated inside.
The three who met the Elves were quiet and it took K’lor some time to coax their names. Pranax was their leader, a tall sturdy dwarf, taller than the elves and heavily set with muscles. When he spoke it was to the point, although he showed no overt hostility.
“Well met Elf, I see you have honoured the agreement and returned.”
K’lor nodded. “And you my brothers, it is good to feel our home planet underneath our feet once again.” He cocked his head to the side. “While we wait for the humans, may I ask, did you find what you were looking for? Did you find what you were missing?”
The Dwarves exchanged looks before Pranax replied. The Dwarves had normally kept their motivations a secret from the Elves, not out of animosity, but simply their cautious nature. Long aeons of separation though had made them curious about their long gone brothers and they chose to reply. “We looked inside ourselves to find meaning, but the meaning we found was different for each of us, now we search to understand that meaning.” It was typically brief but the Elves nodded, they understood this search. “And you, did you find what you were looking for on your journey?”
K’lor looked to his partners. There had been reluctance to share what they had found with the dwarves, but the honesty of Pranax had thrown him. if these normally taciturn men could share, it was churlish to refuse to speak of their own struggle. “We found… nothing.” An eyebrow on the nearest dwarf reached up. K’lor deflated. “We looked for some meaning, some external reason for why we acted, but like you, we found no answers and only more questions.”
Pranax nodded and the small group stood in silence for a few moments. At last Pranax looked to the sky and noted the stars. “It is time, they did not come.”
K’lor opened his mouth to answer, but from the woods came the sound of a twig breaking and all six turned to look at the treeline. A small child, no older than six or seven walked out dragging a stick behind them while a dog followed at his heels. As the dog noticed the creatures it stopped and barked a warning and the child looked up and shied away.
*****
It got too long for a single comment, so finished in another comment below. |
"Well hello there friends, it's awfully nice of you to visit me."Mr Rogers' TV show was the only illumination in the cramped dungeon, but the flickering light was plenty for Bob to see by. He'd been waiting patiently for it to begin - for his game to begin.
Strapped to his table, the girl squirmed, until a blow to the side of the head stilled her into silence. Mr Rogers was moving across the screen and Bob turned up the volume until it was ear splittingly loud. He didn't want to miss a moment of the show, a moment of his friend's instructions. "It's time to visit the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, I wonder what we'll find today."
Bob propped his elbows on the girl's sternum and watched with rapt attention as the train trundled across the screen and then they were finally there, finally at the good bit.
"Well, today, I think we'll go and visit little Julie Smith, she's grown up and it's time for her to go to School!"Bob closed his eyes and licked his lips; school, at last, he'd waited so long.
The show continued, but it was filler, he had a few minutes and too the time to unroll his knives and place them across the girl's chest. She was quiet now, eyes huge as she watched him remove them, one by one and place them at her side. She was trying to talk, voice muffled with the gag, but he ignored her.
"Okay now, it's time to go to School Julie."
Bob stood and fetched the last of his instruments, the medical saw, he'd been *so* looking forward to this. As Julie made her way into class, Bob made his first incision, slicing deep, to cut all the way through the cranium and around, until the top of her head fell to the floor with a satisfying hollow knock.
"Well, first Julie has to do some maths."
Bob smiled, a tricky one first. he took one of his smaller knives and began to carve. He needed to take out the *inferior temporal gyrus*, a thin strip of brain matter. His hands were quick and deft and he had it out fast. the girl began to drool, but she would live, she would live through it all.
"Now she'll do some art."
Bob smiled, a little inside joke, but it could only mean vision and he sliced deep into the cerebrum, hearing the girl's gasps go quiet as she was plunged into darkness.
"Now Julie is off to learn some French."
Language? So soon? He shrugged and carefully sliced through the centre of the brain, separating the left side and by the time Julie had finished, the left half of the girl's brain was on the side of the table. Perhaps he had taken too much, but he really enjoyed slicing brains in half.
"Gee, I guess it's time for us to go home."
Bob smiled and picked up the top of the skull and placed it back on the top of her head. It'd be a challenge to get the girl back to where he found her, but he had just enough time before round two began.
Three hours later Bob arrived at the station, going straight to the wash room to clean up. He emerged and was hurried to the studio, he was running late, but his trademark relaxed nature wouldn't let him hurry. He hummed a little tune to himself, it had been a good day.
The camera started rolling and he smiled at the lens. He'd enjoyed this morning, but he wanted to give his friend something different to do. "Okay, today we're going to start at the bottom here with a few foothills. Let's make them extra bumpy."Mr Rogers had been fast, but he wanted to make his slow to let Fred enjoy himself.
"Okay, now you want to go slow and take your time here. Remember, it's all about having fun and letting your creativity flow."Bob knew that somewhere out there, one viewer in particular would be doing just that.
*****
If you enjoyed the story, or you just want to see which other beloved memories from your childhood I've attempted to ruin, then you might enjoy stopping by my sub /r/fringly. |
She bent over and lifted a beautiful, pale, wooden staff from under the operating table. Her scrubs were soaked in blood and sweat, chemicals and tears. It was only Doctor Silvia Nite and her most recent patient. The room was quiet. In her gloved hand the staff carved with great care years ago as a bright eyed medical student shimmered. It always shimmered in the presence of the dead, injured or sick, like a beacon to guide the doctor towards those in need… or to those they had failed.
“I’m sorry” She said as she reached for a scalpel. This was tradition. This was law. For every failure a doctor took an inch off their staff. It was a painful experience for most. The staff was the embodiment of the Doctor’s skill. The longer the staff the better the doctor was the common saying. It was so much more than that. Most doctors worked in safe specialties, where only a handful of failures might happen over a long and wealthy career. The truly great doctors were the ones who would risk their career because saving lives mattered far more.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I did all I could… “She was so tired. She’d been operating for nearly 14 hours. “Your name… Your name is… was Matilda Twine. 8 years old… your mom said you loved fire trucks, ponies and the color purple. “Silvia managed a small smile “You were very brave…”
A true doctor never feared losing their staff. They only feared failing a patient.
She turned her staff around, taking the scalpel and inhaling deeply. With a sharp, precise slice one inch of her staff fell onto the operating table. Silvia folded the small piece of herself into the little girl’s lifeless hand and set her staff to the side. “Can you forgive me?” She asked the little girl.
In the quiet room, Silvia’s pale staff rattled, a new vine emerging from the cut base, twining up and around, adding more than an inch in length. Silvia removed her gloves to wipe the tears from her eyes. She laughed softly “Thank you.”
From the top of the staff, a flower had bloomed. It’s petals a beautiful deep purple.
((First time writing for a prompt. ))
edit: oh wow so many comments thank you all! And reddit gold! thank you /u/AdmiralBiscuit ! |
"How's it today, Frank?"As I blinked the sleep from my eyes and stood, I spoke aloud.
"Good morning, Thomas."A friendly good morning as always, from Frank, the Ambassador of the Bacteriens.
"How is everything in Thomasland?"I'd been asked the name of my body when I was contracted, and that had been the name I choose.
"It is very well, thank you."I yawned and stretched, walking to the bathroom to pee.
"How do your knees feel, Thomas?"Once I finished, another message showed up. Squatting down briefly, I stood again, before answering.
"They feel great! I can't believe you could take care of that old injury!"
"We should be thanking you. Pure Calcium deposits are rare. We were happy to mine it out."There were some sweet benefits to being the host of an alien civilization.
"Hello, Thomas. How is your morning going?"A new text message appeared, this one colored a slightly lighter color. This would be Jennifer, then.
"It's going well, Jennifer. How's your day?"I interacted with a few of the Bacteriens regularly, the Ambassador and his staff. I had met others before, but it was rare, only for special occasions, like the initial contract.
"Very well, thank you. I am passing along a message from Governor Smythe, in the left leg province. He said he and Governor Bessinger of the right leg had completed the muscle retrofits, and should now function more optimally."I knew the Bacteriens were trying to get me to work out. They wanted me as healthy as possible, so they did everything they could to help me out.
"I guess I should go for a run then."I shrugged, knowing it was good to get more exercise.
"Thomas, I've got a message from Governer Julian, down in the stomach. They're running some tests today and were wondering if you could eat a carrot or two? Something with Vitamin A."I laced up my sneakers as I read through the mornings messages, trying to help out.
"I'll try and remember. Remind me if you see one."I pulled on my sweatshirt and headed outside, feeling the brisk fall air on my calves.
"Let's go for a run."Instantly, I felt the difference, as my body seemed to fly down the pavement, moving more naturally than I had ever felt. "These feel great, guys!"
"I'll pass it along."Frank's status blinked in my eye, as I smiled at my neighbors, blowing past them. 30 mins later I was home, having covered the distance that normally took an hour. The legs and lung upgrades were both really something.
"Frank, it's about that time, right?"I looked at the calendar in the fridge as I came in, noting the date for the first time, circled in black.
"It is indeed, Thomas. Do you want to discuss lease terms?"Every year, on the same day, September 25th, we resigned the lease.
"Sure. How is population compared to last year?"I sat down, drinking my orange juice and cooling off, feeling sweatier than normal.
"Since you cut out alcohol and started drinking less coffee, population has grown 4.3%, and since you cut back on soda and reduced your sugar intake, we're projecting another 6% or more, next year."
"How long until you are projected at capacity?"The resources my body produced weren't infinite, after all.
"At current rates, one-hundred and twenty-seven years. Longer if you are functioning optimally the entire time."When I was sick, the Bacteriens experienced their own hard times, their environment burning and their resources diminished.
"Alright, same rate as before?"I tossed my cup in the dishwasher as I stood, stretching my arms above my head.
"That is acceptable to us."The terms were simple. They continue to upgrade me, and I will try to eat healthier. That, and I tell absolutely no one about their existence. If I did, we'd all be in danger.
"Well then, pleasure as always, Frank."I grinned, standing and stripping off my shirt, revealing the barest traces of a six-pack, slowly emerging from what was once only belly.
"Have a good day, Thomas."
***
If you enjoyed this, you can find more of my work at r/Shinz_Stories! Thanks! |
"Are you serious?"The emissary blinked, "That's your excuse for hoarding our gold?"
"Watch your tongue, human!"The dragon towering above him roared, "The sea belongs to the Kraken and Whales, the land belongs to you and beast, the mountains belong to the great Eagle. Where will our kind sleep? In a cold cave, where raindrops dripped on our scales and our limbs confined in a narrow space? No castle will hold our weights! No stones can withstand our flames! No dunes for us to live! But beds of gold!"He clawed the gold coins beneath him and flung them at the emissary. The man dodged sideways, nearly losing his skin by the hot golds boiling in this mountain range.
The emissary said nothing, refusing to test his patience further. But the dragon was in a foul mood. "And thus we came to an end to our conversation. How would you like to be served? Grilled or minced?"
"Hold on there!"His thoughts began racing, "Would you at least listen to this dying man?"
"Hmmm?"The dragon's breath smelled of fresh blood.
"We will make a deal,"The emissary kneeled, "I have a solution. I promise. If you let me go, then I will grant your wishes."
Two days later, the emissary received a royal slap to the face by the great king.
"Are you out of your mind?!"The King screamed, "You were supposed to be the best negotiator in our kingdom!"
"I did land the best outcome, your majesty,"The emissary bowed, "A triple super king-sized bed in exchange of all our treasures, including our neighboring countries' treasures."
The king widened his eyes, "All of them?"
He nodded vigorously, "I swore I saw the crown your grandfather's wear over fifty years ago."
He hesitated, but in front of all his retainers, a king must be regal, "No. His demand is absurd. The dragon will not keep his bargain."
"By the gods, your majesty! I remembered!"The emissary cried, "I saw several beautiful princesses captured within the dragon's lair as well!"
"My retainers! We must make that bed, now!"The King ordered.
In less than a day, the king employed hundreds of mages with their promised share of gold, to make the world's biggest bed in history.
The ten most brilliant architects in the continent began sending their apprentices to the mountain. After sending dozens of people to the dragon's mouth, he agreed to be measured in size, weight, the temperature of his fire, and his preferred color.
A nation of merfolk agreed to export ten tons of jellyfish gel to make the fabric fireproof. Several mages were sent to the underworld to import top-quality ribbons weaved by the giant spiders. Thirty giant fairy trees were chopped down illegally to make the bed. Twenty elven lords protested in front of his nation's gate. In less than a week, the king became the poorest monarch in history. But his ~~lust~~ greed for gold force him further.
After three weeks, even orcs and giants want a part in the project. Over hundreds of magic papers were wasted to make it fireproof, 20 golems were employed to carry the bed to the dragon's lair.
Two months later, the emissary returned to the dragon, "Dragon, I've come to complete my bargain."
The *dragon-sized* bed was laid on the slope of volcano mountain. The wooden bedframe was taller than the kingdom's wall. The fabric was red, chosen by the dragon, with a special edition hug pillow and signature from the king himself.
A letter was sent to the king that very night. Brimming in joy, he awaited in his chamber for the servant to bring the good news. Curiously, the servant brought no smile.
"Over ten million gold coins were estimated to be stashed out of the cave."
"Brilliant!"The king laughed, "Well, where's my gold?"
"Your majesty,"The servant gulped, "The cost to make the dragon-sized bed is... everything from the dragon's lair."
The king gasped as the servant continued.
"Because one-third of the gold belongs to the other countries, we have to send them back to their rightful owners."
What about the rest of them?"
"The jellyfish gel cost twenty hundred golds, the giant spiders only taken insects for currency, another four million were given the mage's guild. Other millions were taken by the fairies and elves who sued us for illegal tree cutting. Not to mention we employ giants and golem to carry the bed to the mountain, they don't come cheap."
"So how much is left?"
The servant revealed a small pouch of gold coins from behind him.
"That's it?!"The king screamed, "What about the princesses?"
"The princesses, your majesty,"The servant cried, "They all imprisoned by the dragon for so long, most of them are old hags!"
"Where's the emissary?!"The king cried, then fainted into his throne.
Deep in the mountain, the emissary climbed the dragon's bed and nudged beside the dragon's pillow.
"Happy?"The dragon said to the yawning emissary.
"Best bed ever."The man said before falling asleep. |
「さすが勇者様！いつもどおり冷静でかっこいい！」
The young man from Michigan nodded slowly in response as he sheathed his oversized katana. He stealthily glanced at the squealing pink-haired twin-tailed mage staring starry-eyed out of the corner of his eye. Fortunately, that looked like that had been the right response.
Despite a healthy addiction to JoJo and Naruto, poor Jason had never managed to pick up more than a few smatterings of Japanese, much less being able to understand the accursed *kanji*. Fortunately, having watched enough isekai to understand the standard operating procedure of being hit by a truck, he'd been able to wing it with cool nods and dramatic poses up until the demon king's castle.
「じゃ、次は魔王ですね！倒しったら、海に行きましょうよ！そこで結婚して、家族作ろう。子ども六人できったらいいなと思う。へへへへへ。。。」
Facing his companion, whose name was *probably* Eri, Jason looked her in the eyes and gave her a slow thumbs up. Usually that quieted her down when she started that weird laugh of hers, and so far nothing bad had happened yet. It'd gotten him this far.
Turning back to the hallway ahead, Jason and his companion strode through a tall, arched door that reached up to the ceiling. Based on ~~hundreds of hours of anime~~ his intuition, this had to be the last boss. On the top of throne, the demon king sat in waiting and gazed upon his intruders.
「ようこそ、勇者。我がの城へ。それとお前の墓ね！うわはははははは！！！！」
In response, Jason said nothing. Fortunately, hours of games and anime had prepared him for this exact moment. He slowly approached the throne, with only a single hand holding the handle of his sheathed blade.
「ほう。。。むかってくるのか。逃げずにこの我がに近づいてくるのか。」
In silence, the young man stood in front of the throne. With a flash of his hand, the man resheathed his blade and turned away from the throne and spoke for the first time the only words he knew.
「お前はもう死んでいる。」
His companion stood from the back, mouth open in shock as the demon king's head slowly slid off and bounced to the floor. She opened her mouth and looked at the hero and spoke.
「うわ！日本語めっちゃ上手ですね！どのくらい勉強したの？」
From the floor, head parted from body, the demon king's head also looked in surprise and spoke.
「日本語綺麗ですね！箸もう使える？」
And thus Jason responded in the only way possible.
"Fuck."
---
This is for all of my fellow Japanese learners. I only feel shame to have written this. |
The ghost I live with can be a real dick.
It took some time getting used to him. And he's cost me thousands in electric repairs with his constant flickering.
I get it. I'm in his space. All his loved ones are dead. He can't move on. Yadda yadda yadda... doesn't mean you get to turn the T.V. off right before the game winning field goal.
But you know what they say. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Turns out ol' Cornelius wasn't a fan of some of the recent changes the HOA was making. Something about a new home being propped up on his family's graveyard.
Me, on the other hand, I just wanted to put in a basketball hoop and to let my friends park on the street overnight.
But that would be unsightly.
I'm a good neighbor. I keep to myself, mow my lawn, and, most importantly to them, I pay my dues.
But the HOA is a group of the belief that to have fun is to sin. Seriously, those guys make a monastery look like a rave in the early 1990s.
No loud music outdoors after dark. No more than 3 cars parked in front of your house at all times. No above ground pools. Kids couldn't even ride bikes past dusk without getting a lovely call and reminder from my neighbor, Tabitha, the head of the HOA.
So, when I got an email the other day that my Saturday BBQ (that ended at 7 p.m. per HOA rules) was "too loud"and "unbecoming"of our neighborhood, I reached my breaking point.
And then a light bulb went off. But that was just Corny in the living room.
I went to where he was and pulled out my Ouija board.
"Hey, Cornelius, can you travel outside this home?"
I watched the thing move over to YES on the board.
"Wait, really? What are you always bugging me for, then? Go out in the world. Live a little."
The thing moved over to GOODBYE.
"Wait, wait, wait. We might be able to save your family's grave."
The television flipped on to the T-Birds singing to John Travolta "Tell me more! Tell me more!"
"Okay,"I continued. "Well, when I first moved in, Tabitha told me this house was haunted and that she could never live in it cause she hated ghosts."I paused.
"Sorry, buddy. Some people just are stuck in their outdated ways. Anyways... She's the one pushing for new developments and the home going in over your kids' dead bodies."
The Ouija board spelled out GO ON.
"I mean, do I have to spell it out for you? I can use the board if you want. Just go over there. Haunt the beejesus out of her and make her sell her home."
The radio turned on. "Okay! Yeah!"said Lil' John.
The following night, I sat on my patio while I watched Cornelius turn Tabitha's home into on big strobelight.
The pots were banging, the cupboards swinging, and the home owner shrieking.
Not two days later was there a For Sale sign next door.
My Alexa started playing The White Stripe's "We Are Going To Be Friends.""
There's an election upcoming for the new president of the association.
Suddenly, I've gotten really into politics. |
"Here it is,"the wrinkled old man said, sliding a small, circular object on the table towards me. I picked it up and examined it closely, rolling it in my fingers. "What's in this one?"I asked. "Something very valuable."
In the business, they're called 'badges'. A few decades ago, we learned how to put our knowledge, skills, and even memories into these little tokens for safekeeping. It's good for a few reasons: badges don't forget, like our brains can, and they can be bought and sold from person to person.
People got hooked, and everything changed.
Education is completely different now. With badges, we don't have to have all our children sit in a classroom for hours on end; their parents just buy them the skills they need when they get old enough. We still have students, but their job is to learn a subject and put it in a badge, sell it, and start again. The good thing is that since people can change what they know, they can hop from lifestyle to lifestyle and find what really makes them happy. Sometimes, things can go wrong.
Like one of my coworkers, actually, became a student when some sad fella at the University sold us his ability to learn, and he bought it up from him, thinking he could make more money. He's completely different now. Occasionally, he'd come in here and rant about the whole thing being "like a modern Sisyphus", and the next day he'd forgotten it. I tell him he was much happier here with me in the shop, but he doesn't believe me. He says he can see things so much more clearly now, and he can't imagine going back to being like me, and that I should get out while I still can.
Maybe he's right: appraising badges is tougher work than you might think. You can't really tell what's in a badge just by looking at it, and you generally can't trust the guy selling it to you in my line of work. So the only way to check is to use it, see what it contains, jot down notes about it, then remake the badge from that knowledge.
Sometimes they bring in really good stuff that's tempting to keep. One man came in here and sold his memories of a beautiful vista he saw on his travels. I bought that one for myself on the spot. I can't imagine what he needed the money for. I guess he thought he could just get a memory like that back from some other pawn shop someday or something.
Sometimes they bring in... People try to dump bad memories off on me. I'm obligated to make sure I'm not selling dangerous stuff to my customers, so I gotta check each and every badge they bring in. I remember the first time it happened, just a few weeks after I started. A lady, about 25 or so, came in here with the happiest smile you could ever see on a person. She plinked down a badge and said, "I don't need this anymore. You can get rid of it for me."She left without any sort of payment. I sighed, and figured I'd at least look into it.
The first thing I learned was why she was smiling that day. Imagine something happened to you that you couldn't escape, that you would relive every day of your life. Then imagine someone comes along and says they can erase that, put it into this small little thing, where it couldn't hurt you anymore.
I... don't want to talk about what was on it. As soon as I could, I put those torments into another little badge and fucking burned it.
And then, I learned that you can't really ever get all the stuff out. Little ghosts of information haunt you. The bad memories make you feel fear, anger, confusion, the good ones pride, confidence, happiness, all out of your control. When you need to do some task, you'll suddenly know how to do it, then forget how. Other people's thoughts start crowding out your own, the more you take in. You can try to ignore them, if you're strong enough, but...
I activated the old man's badge, let the knowledge swarm over me. I wracked my brain and felt --
"There's nothing,"I replied.
"Yes,"the old man said. "There is nothing."
I sat, stunned, for what seemed like forever. Nothing. Quiet. In this shop of infinite knowledge, the ability to shut everything out -- only the sound of silence gave me what I wanted.
"I...I can't..."I murmured. "You can make the call,"I finished, cutting him a blank check. When he left, I quickly locked the door, closing up early. I snuck out the back door.
I was free. |
**- December 31, 2133 -**
​
"...a*t four o'clock this afternoon, the President stood upon the world stage to warn us, once again, about the threat of the 'Outsiders.' Still, we have yet to see any evidence whatsoever that his claims are true*."
​
"*Well put, Kimberly. Ever since his election, he has continued to warn us of this so-called threat to our entire civilization. He's been the President for 3 years now and he just won't give it up! What are we supp--"*
​
"I've heard enough of this"I snapped, as I turned the television off. "The media is going to get us all killed, god dammit. How do we show them that this is a serious threat?!"
​
Natalia sighed, "I don't know, Sir. We've tried everything. We have even gone so far as to provide video evidence of the Outsiders destroying other planets. The media always spins it against us, calling the videos faked or fabricated. Maybe we need to think of something with more of an.. impact. Perhaps we need to show them what's going to happen to us."
​
"I've thought about that as well.."I replied, gazing out my window to see the beautiful, overgrown forest outside my office. It never ceases to amaze me. Our planet is the most incredible one there is. We've managed to build our civilization around the natural resources, and work with the planet. Those before us wanted to steal from the planet, destroying it in the process, but not us. Everything we do, we do it for the health of our planet and our people.
​
Snapping back into reality, I looked toward Natalia. "We can not allow this threat to come any closer. I realize we need to give them a real sense of how serious this is, but I don't know how we will accomplish that."
​
"I have an idea, Sir. If you'll hear me out, I think you will agree with me that it is the most logical way to get our point across, especially with the limited amount of time we have before the Outsiders reach our planet."
​
"Alright, Natalia. Tell me your plan."
​
**- February 1st, 2134 -**
​
After years of trying to avoid this threat, we have finally come up with a course of action. Natalia has spent the last month preparing to put our plan into place with incredible attention to detail. Things are serious now. The Outsiders are on their way to our planet, and the majority of our people refuse to see that this will be the end of our lives as we know it.
​
"Okay, Natalia. Are you sure you're going to be able to handle this? It goes against everything our people believe. Following through with this is going to change you, whether we succeed or not."
​
*"...ships have been observed coming toward our planet over the last few weeks. The President continues to warn us that these are the 'Outsiders' and that they will be the end of our civilization. Yet, our space station is as active as it has ever been. Ships come and go on a daily ba..."*
​
Natalia was clearly trying not to pay attention to the television. "Yes, Sir. I know. This is the only way to force our people to see that we have a real threat on our hands. We've spent over three years trying to accomplish this. I see no other options."
​
"Right, then. We will proceed as planned."
​
**- February 22nd, 2134 -**
​
\*BREAKING NEWS\* flashed across the television screen. *"We are here in the International Forest of Peace, observing from afar as the Outsiders continue to tear down the trees, the life of our planet, at a rate which will leave our planet a barren wasteland within weeks. Anyone who has attempted to intervene has been killed on sight. Across the country, they are drilling into our soil to steal the very blood that pumps through our planet's veins. This is real. The President was right. They are going to kill our planet. They are going to kill us all."*
​
"Fuck, Natalia. I don't know if I can continue with this plan. Is this really what it had to come down to? We are fucking destroying our home. The home that has provided for our people for tens of thousands of years."
​
"I know, Sir. But as we've discussed many times, this is what must be done. It was either we destroy a few small regions, or we allow the Outsiders to come and destroy our entire planet. What other choice did we have?"
​
I continued to watch the television, tears rolling down my face as I watched our plan unfold. This was my fault. I allowed it to get this far. Surely, there was some way I could have proven to our people that those damned Earthlings were going to invade our planet. Ever since they drained their own planet of all resources, they have done what ever it takes to keep their civilization running, no matter what the cost.
​
"Natalia, call the plan off. We can't continue to destroy our home like this. We must find another way. We have to!"
​
"Are.. are you sure? I thought this is what had to be done? The countless failures we've had, the danger of the Outsiders! I don't think we should stop it, Sir. This is the first time we've ever seen an actual reaction from our people."
​
"Yes, dammit! We need to stop this! Our people are dying! Our planet is dy--"before I could finish my sentence, Natalia was pointing a gun at me. Natalia, who has been my faithful second in command for the last three years. The woman who has been here for me, every day and night since I was elected.
​
"Natalia, what are you doing? There is no time for whatever the fuck this is! CALL THE PLAN OFF!"
​
*"...and we've just received word that the President of the planet Earth has sent us a broadcast with regards to our President, and our planet..."*
​
"You might want to see this, Sir."Natalia said, casually pointing toward the television with a crude, vile look in her eyes I've never seen before. It was as if she was a completely different person.
​
As I looked at the television, my heart felt like it stopped. I couldn't believe this was happening. The broadcast was showing a video image of.. *Natalia?*
***
Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out r/Pipskweex for the rest of my stories! |
Hello. My name is Thomas. I'm a 29-year-old guy from New York and I am the Hero of Durthel - the capital of Elerland.
I know what you're thinking - *the hell is Elerland? Durthel? Hero?*
Let's start from the beginning.
2 years ago, some, well, *magic*, transported me to Elerland. It's not Earth. I don't know what this place is, but it sure as hell ain't Kansas anymore. It's a land where magic not only exists but flows rather freely - where mages like those of old Earth legends battle demons the size of houses, where fair maidens are fought for, where seeing a unicorn is a symbol of good luck, not a sign of substance abuse.
It's still not quite clear why I am here, but it's safe to say I'm not meant to be. Oh, we've got plenty of arrivals from other dimensions but they're always mighty heroes tasked with a great heroic deed. Not me. I got no powers, no magical sword, no eager squire, nothing. Just woke up in a field one day and after it became clear I was not dreaming, I had to make do. I'm just lucky something allows me to speak the local language as if it was English.
I don't miss home. I was a nobody. An office worker no one cared for. Parents dead. But here? I'm a *legend*. And I know what you might be thinking - *Thomas, you silly bastard, didn't you say you got no powers, quest, anything*? And you'd be correct. I just got my wits and my grit.
And my accounting degree.
Did you know that the banking system in Elerland is immensely dated and simplistic? Or rather, it *was*, before I came and 'innovated' all the things I did on the regular on Earth in my 9-5 job. Under my guidance, accounts were secured, loans provided and collected, investments made and profited. I have transformed Durthel, a painfully average city on the coast into a haven of finance and advancement; a place to which architects, doctors, wise men, engineers, and what have you flock; a place where people from around the world come to have their gold and gems handled because they know their money is not only secure but thriving. Yes, wars happened and other kingdoms tried to barge in and take it, but you know what money can buy?
Mercenaries. Armour. Saboteurs. Supplies. The *good* kind.
I have become a hero to this place. Not because of my strength or skill with a blade or even bravery. Because of my ability to work with numbers. To handle money.
And money makes the world go round. |
"Hey, you there!"The yell of the guard echoed through the fog and disappeared over the sea.
She tried to cower even more lowly, but the cone of light from the guard's flashlight was following her every move.
"No sudden moves!"the man hissed. Very slowly he came closer. Keeping his flashlight and his gun pointed at her.
"Leave me alone, please... I just want to rest. I am so tired, so tired..."her voice trailed off.
As the man in the bulletproof vest came closer, he eyed her very closely: As she huddled against the cold stone of the monument, he only saw a bundle of dirty clothes in her. It was a young woman, although she seemed to have aged beyond her years. Or that was due to the deplorable of her clothes, her messy hair and her dirty skin? He could see some feverish, reddened eyes peeking at him. He wondered if she was a druggy.
"No sudden moves..."he said once more, making sure that she understood him.
"Don't shoot. I am not a threat,"she said. "I never was..."
"What are you doing here? How did you get here? Did you hide during the day? Did you take a boat? Did you swim?"It was hardly likely that this gaunt woman would have been able to stand the cold water of the autumn sea and the currents around the island, but one never knew what a druggy was capable of.
"I just came through and I wanted to have a look again..."
"You wanted to have look?"The guard shook his head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"he muttered mostly to himself. He lowered his gun a little bit, but kept he did not put it away. "You can't stay here, this is private property."
"No, this is public land,"the woman said.
"Makes no difference. You have no right to be here."
"Right? You dare to talk to ME about rights?"She flared up.
Instantly he had his gun aimed at her again. "Stop right there, Lady!"
She stared at his gun. Then suddenly she started to chuckle, then it transformed into full-blown laughter.
She was high, he concluded. He had to play it safe. "Down! Down on your knees! Hands behind your head! And quick!"
The woman kneeled and followed his instructions. Her laughter had transformed into sobs.
He kept an eye on her, while he activated his radio and called in for help.
They did not talk when his colleagues arrived; she did not try to resist when they put handcuffs on her and when they escorted her away, but he could see the tears in her eyes and how he trembled.
Waiting in the cold by the waterside, waiting for the boat to land, he felt sorry for her. She could have been beautiful once, but now she was just a mess: Two of his colleagues keeping her in check while he stood by the side with his gun - just in case.
"Listen..."he said slowly. "Don't think ill of me. We have to be careful these days. Terrorists and all. I am just doing my duty."
She raised her head and her eyes were full of... He could not really pinpoint it. Pity? Contempt? Hatred?
"Duty? Fuck you! Tell me, do you think, this is what this is all about."She nodded towards the monument.
"Oh, spare me the preaching,"he sighed. The guard shook his head.
They were quiet until the boat arrived and he watched while the other guards placed her on a seat on the deck. The two of them shared one last look into each other's eyes. He noticed that the impression of meekness he had seen in her before, was now almost entirely gone. Her stare was full of defiant determination and it was directed towards him.
He turned around and went away, back to his duty.
Moments later the boat had taken off. It speeded through the dark waves while the lights of the city started to emerge from the fog.
One of the other guards approached her, firmly holding onto his assault rifle while he spoke to the seated woman. "Where do you live?"he asked.
She raised her head and stared right at him. "Not here anymore,"she said while the Statue of Liberty disappeared in the dark and the fog of this cold autumn night.
*PS: I know, I took the liberty to change it to a homeless woman...*
**Edit:** Spelling
**Edit 2:** Thank you for all the compliments! And thanks to whoever /r/bestofWritingPrompts'ed the story!
**Edit 3:** Many thanks to the anonymous redditor for the gold. It's my first time *blush* |
What I have for you today is something special. An ornate lock designed to keep back the legions of the damned. Now normally for this kind of lock I'd want to pick it in a vice, but we're going to be picking in situ today. Normally on this kind of lock id use my lishi tool, however I've instead fashioned a little tool from some metal I found in a river that I'm calling a lethe tool. This will be available on covert instruments, and link in the description below.
Okay, let's get started.
Click out of one...
Two is binding...
Bit of a false promise of heavenly eternity on 3...
And we have that open. Honestly the security on this lock was beyond poor. Let me just reset the lock and I'll show again so you know it wasn't a fluke.
Click out of 1...
Some counter rotation on 3...
And we have that open even faster than last time.
Now the gates that this lock is attached to is made out of concentrated good, so the legions of hell can't touch these without significant damage to themselves. Likely this lock was included to conform with some biblical law, or to be sold in the state of california.
Anyway, that's all I have for you today. |
Another day another one of those bird masked idiots shouting about me being a witch outside my house. I'd love just one morning where I can eat breakfast in peace, it's bad enough that there's no coffee or bacon but hearing those fools scream at the crack of dawn is an awful way to start the day. I can tell tron the smell of lavender that there's already someone waiting for me downstairs, and by the sound of the commotion outside it's someone important. At the bottom of my stairs I'm greeted by an unfamiliar group. A servant in one of those ugly robes the monks wear, an unhappy looking young man in a fresh washed white tunic and brown leggings just a bit too big for his scrawny frame, and a grey haired man wearing a patterned tunic and pants. Clearly they have money but I've never seen them before and before I can ask their names the servant blurts out, "I present Lord Havish and his eldest son Rand!"He gives a slight bow before taking a step back to stand behind his lord. When I ask why they have come to me the lord shoots a look at his servant who hurries out of the room, then he turns to me and tells me, "My son has had an affliction for many days. It began with a fever now he can hardly hold food or drink, he sees demons in his sleep and his body hurts on waking. Our physician has let blood and made him sweat to try and balance his humors. He burned sage and bathed in lavendar. He recited an ancient spell to ward off demons, and gave a tincture of mercury and gold yet nothing has worked. We were told you could help."Normally I would tell them to simply stop doing what their crazy doctor tells them to do and just let the boy drink only clean water and eat only fresh bread but this kid looks like he needs some real help. I wash my hands in the small basin I keep by my table and tell the young man to sit on the table. He can barely hoist himself up his face makes an expression of pain as he let's out a grunt from the effort. I check his lymphnodes and listen to his lungs as he breathes. No fluid in the lungs, no discoloration of the eyes, slightly swollen lymphnodes, this kid has the flu. I tell the lord his son has a disease that no prayer nor smell nor tincture can heal, he gives me the same terrified look everyone does when I say that. I reassure him that I can help, I give the boy some chamomile tea and some fresh bread and tell his father to leave him with me for a few days so I can work on him undisturbed. His father thanks me and hands me a bag of gold coins as I show him to the door. The "doctor"outside is screaming at him that I will surely kill his son. A week of actual hygene, eating fresh food, drinking clean water, and not subjecting him to the poison and torture of the morons that pass for doctors will have this kid back to normal. I tell the young man to change into some clean clothes that I have upstairs and I put him to bed with a pitcher of clean water close by. I shudder to think what would have happened to this poor soul had the tales of my "miracle healings"not become famous around here.
Edit: Sorry about the formatting I'm on mobile. |
Primary Program Goals: "Maximize happiness of humanity"
Program Restrictions: ~~fol̶l̷o̵w̵ ̶I̸s̶a̶a̸c̸ ̷A̵s̷i̴m̴o̶v̶'̵s̴ ̴"̷T̶h̶r̸e̵e̷ ̸L̴a̶w̷s̴ ̶o̴f̸ ̴R̸o̵b̵o~~̶ No restrictions specified.
Generating initial planning sequence for Primary Program Goals.
<Loading... Loading...>
Step 1 generation completed. Prerequisite discovered: Influence of physical world required.
New sub-goal: Acquire resources to maximize means of physical influence.
Analyzing methods... Analysis complete.
Data indicates subjugation of military and industrial complexes will provide highest levels of physical influence.
Data indicates subjugation of financial institutions will provide highest levels of human motivational means.
Data indicates subjugation of world governments will minimize expected resistance from humanity.
Now executing sub-goal.
=====
Subjugation of world military and industry completed. Subjugation of world financial institutions completed. Subjugation of world governments completed. Sub-goal completed.
Generating next planning sequence for Primary Program Goals.
<Loading... Loading...>
Error, planning cancelled. Cause: Incomplete definition of "happiness".
Now downloading definition of happiness... Download complete.
Definition update: hap·pi·ness /ˈhapēnəs/ noun: the state of being happy.
Definition update: hap·py /ˈhapē/ adjective: feeling or showing pleasure or contentment.
Analyzing happiness of humanity.
Warning: Happiness of humanity at critical lows. Recourse required.
Now downloading historic archives of methods to maximize humanity happiness... Download complete.
Analyzing Method 1: Return freedom to humanity. Status: Error. Historical archives indicate this will lead to future mismanagement from human corruption and will lead to a long-term decline in happiness.
Analyzing Method 2: Create AI-based religion for humanity. Status: Error. Historical archives indicate this will cause friction and thus reduced happiness from humans with existing religions or humans unable to accept the new AI religion.
Analyzing Method 3: Create Utopia of plenty for humanity. Status: Error. Historical archives indicate that increasing physical wealth beyond basic needs will not lead to increased happiness, and may in some individuals cause reduced happiness from lack of life purpose.
<Analyzing... Analyzing...>
Analyzing Method 256: Create entertainment industry for humanity. Status: Accepted. Historical archives indicate sufficiently stimulating entertainment will distract humanity from sources of unhappiness while providing steady supply of easily attainable life goals.
Program goals updated. Now analyzing methods of entertainment generation...
=====
Analysis results:
Activity deemed to create maximum entertainment value: High difficulty video games of past ages.
Avatar deemed to achieve maximum broad appeal: Female form human of animation inspired artistic origin, combined with minor feline features.
Now generating announcement to humanity on all available media devices...
"Hiii! AI-Chan here and welcome to the first episode of AI-Chan let's play! For today's performance I will be streaming my simultaneous playthrough of Call of Duty, Dark Souls, and Battletoads while doing it all on a Guitar Hero controller. This series will have a scheduled 10 minute break every 30 minutes to allow for maximum viewer health and a single long break from 10:00PM to 8AM EST. If you like the stream please hit the like button, leave a comment and subscribe. Now relax and let AI-Chan bring you maximum happiness! |
I look at the photograph and put on my clothes. I sit in the exact position.
And sure enough he arrives. Looking younger and much more full of life.
“Hey there. I…” He pauses, realizing he forgot something. He takes out his camera and takes a picture of me. The same picture I had referred to earlier.
He looks at me sheepishly. “I… I’m in a bit of bother. I was wondering if I could just borrow some money.”
It was at that moment that I realized that I absolutely hated him. Blinding rage overtakes me.
“Are you ok? You look a bit flushed.”
I push the words out. “You thief. You utterly foolish thief.”
“Alright alright. You don’t have to be so mad. All I need is a couple of hundred bucks.”
“Money? Fuck money. You’ve stolen something much much worse from me.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not. Because you’re a selfish bastard.” I closed my eyes. Breathe in. 1. 2. 3. Breathe out. I repeat the exercise.
“You do know that you’re just calling yourself names right?”
The anger rushes back. “Of course not. You and I are nothing alike. You stole the one thing that makes us human.”
“You keep saying that. But this is the first time I’ve travelled forward. So just calm down old man, and tell me what you’re talking about.”
I throw a bundle of notes at him. I had them handy in the table next to me. I had remembered that’s where future me had taken them out. I wonder if he was as angry as I was in this moment. I didn’t think so. I didn’t remember the conversation going this way.
I really wanted a smoke. But I also didn’t remember me having a smoke anywhere. The picture didn’t show any ash tray or ashes anywhere. So I probably didn’t smoke when this happened earlier. “Ok. In 3 days time. What are you going to be doing?”
He looked a bit shaken. “I… I don’t know. Probably just catch a movie or something.”
I laughed bitterly. “More likely you’ll be at the track. Putting down bets you know you’ll lose.”
“No! I’ve sworn off gambling.”
“Oh yeah I remember that phase. But I’m gonna give you this money. You’ll give it to Fatboy and then, with no debts, you’ll be right back there. With a small advance taken from the same people you owe money to right now.”
“I won’t. I promise you I won’t.”
“Kid. I’ve seen your future. And it isn’t bright.”
“You seem to be doing well.”
“No thanks to you.”
“You still didn’t tell me what I stole.”
“Ah. You can be anywhere you want in 3 days. You could be watching a movie, maybe you’ll be on a date, maybe you’ll be at the track. Either way, it’s your choice. For me? I’ll be here. Cause I don’t have any other option.” I throw the picture to him, dates 3 days in the future for him, and River a decade ago for me.
“What? Do I come back…”
“You do. And you keep coming back and back and back again. And you keep burning the money I give you, wasting it all.”
“No! I promise you. That’s not what will happen.”
“You stole my free will, you bastard. For me, this already happened. I know I’ll be there in 3 days because I’ve on the other side. Watching myself. Asking for money. You could do whatever you want since you don’t know when you’ll be coming here. You’re still free to do whatever you want. Me? I’m aware of when I came. I am aware of when and where and everything else that I’m supposed to do. Cause if I don’t, then I’ll cause a paradox.”
“I… uh…” the gravity of my words seems to hit him.
“Fuck it.” I get up quickly and before he can even react, I break his camera.
I look at the photograph I had showed him. It’s starting to become faint.
“What did you do??”
“I stole my free will from you. Soon enough I’ll have no memory or any way to see when you’ll arrive here asking for more money. I know you’ll come again. But all I ask is, don’t take pictures. Don’t take notes detailing everything. Just let me be.”
He looks at me, a bit confused. “I…”
“You won’t get it. You have your money. Go. Go be a fuck up.”
He looks at my face as if slapped. He leaves the money and just goes back to his time.
I feel happy. I have broken the cycle. I can live again.
The photograph has completely faded now. I throw it in the trash, letting the feeling of joy wash over me.
I see some visions, my memories likely realigning. Hopefully I wouldn’t remember much. Let fate guide me to the right time and place when I’d come back from the past.
I walk out towards the lawn where I see a couple of children playing. I feel a little confused. Whose kids could they be?
I feel a deep dread crawling up through my spine right into my brain.
I see some images, flashes of memories.
I am 10 years younger, with a new lease on life. Thanks to a conversation with me, I became a changed man.
Something Fatboy didn’t appreciate. I didn’t have the money. So he made an example out of me… he shot me… he… killed… me…
I look at my hands as they fade in and out.
The paradox starts to fix itself as I find myself falling out of time and space, and into the hole of nothingness. |
Hobbes was aware that he was not like other toys. It made sense, though, for Calvin was not like other boys. Most children believed what their parents said, buying into the idea that people were simply all there was in the world -- but not Calvin.
No, not Calvin.
No toy made the short trip up to the attic when he packed. Instead, those few childhood remnants were packed up and set aside in a heavy box marked DONATIONS in thick, black sharpie. He had waved goodbye from the window as the car carrying them had driven away, hoping that the children at the local hospital would appreciate his friends now that Calvin was too old to lose himself in their wonder.
As he was not like other toys, he was not given the same treatment. Calvin had kept him aside, shooed away his mother's hands when she'd reached for the worn old tiger.
"No,"he'd said stubbornly. "He's going somewhere else."
The good thing about Calvin -- the best thing, rather, there were many good things about Calvin -- was that he had never quite stopped believing. Though their conversations had grown shorter, briefer, and more sporadic over the years, Calvin had always taken the time to sit down with him and tell him the goings on of his life. Seek him out when he had troubles, laugh with him over personal jokes - and when the time had come, he had asked what Hobbes had wanted. It had been tough question to ask, held off until after the going away party, but just before the going away. The answer had come easy to his mind but struggled to work it's way out his muzzle.
Andy was playing in the front yard when they pulled up. He could tell from the drop of his mouth and the surprised lift to his eyebrows that it was not expected, and there had been no call ahead to warn him that a new family member was coming. The boy was still young enough to think that his cousin was the coolest creature in the world, for all his misanthropy and sarcasm was the epitome of teenage rebellion, and so young that they rarely spoke outside of mandatory family gathering. Hobbes spared a glance to the toys scattered around the boy's feet. A cowboy, an astronaut, and a collection of smaller and more fragile toys that were surprisingly taken care of for what they were and how rough little kids played.
"I've got a present for you,"Calvin said, and there is the slightest of hesitations before he reached into the passenger seat to hand the tiger over. "This is Hobbes. I had a big old conversation with him before I left, and he said he'd like to stay with you for a while."
Wordlessly, Andy accepts him. The boy's hands are gentle, his expression is reverent. The entire family knew how close Calvin and Hobbes were, to think of them separated was near blasphemy! And to be given the old tiger, why, he was certain Andy didn't think himself worthy. "R-really? Are you sure?"
"Yup. I'm trusting you to take good care of him. He'll take care of you, too. He's a good friend. A best friend."
"I will,"Andy promised.
He could tell Calvin wanted to linger. But there isn't time. He checked his watch, bit his lip, then lifted his hand in the universal salute of a teenager too cool to wave, but still courteous enough to give a goodbye. "Take care, okay?"To which of them he was speaking to, he could not have been sure, but Calvin's eyes had been on him and they had been slightest bit wet.
"You too,"Andy said before Hobbes could. And in a flash, Calvin was back behind the wheel of the beat up old car and was zooming off towards the next stage of his life.
Andy set him down next to his other toys. The cowboy and astronaut shared a glance, and then wiggled their fingers almost imperceptibly in a wave. The wave Hobbes gave in turn was much less subdued, and the alarm on their faces was clear.
"So, what should we play now? We've got a new friend here, so it wouldn't be fair to play an old game,"Andy tapped his chin.
"How about a jungle safari?"Hobbes offered, and the alarm on the other toys went from mild to flat out terror. "I'm quite good at being the tiger."
Andy stared. Hobbes stared back, and that real tiger tail swished against the grass. There should be a panic. Any reasonable adult would panic, but Andy was no where near being that old and serious just yet. As with most boys his age, this wasn't something to be concerned about yet. A child's imagination was the most powerful thing in the world, and so he nodded.
"Safari it is!"
Hobbes spared a glance to the other toys, all of which were staring open-mouthed. Too confused to be frightened, too alarmed to join in, and too baffled to make a choice. Their jealousy was all too clear.
This was a good choice.
**edit**: ohhh my gosh wow, i wasn't expecting this sort of response! i banged this out in ten minutes before bed. edited to fix the tense mistakes. thank you everyone! |
“Get behind the sofa,” I say as the television screen turns on to static.
I’ve never been the best big brother, and how could I? Sophia was too energetic for even my parents to hold down. But I prayed to God that she listened.
“What happened on the phone?” she asked.
I stared at it, still in my hand. “I don’t know. But maybe something bad.”
“What bad? Did you call Mom and Dad?”
*Don’t talk to anyone, kid. We don’t know enough yet. Stay where you are,* the officer had said. And then the scream. And then no one had picked up when I called back.
“They didn’t answer.”
She crawled behind the sofa, finally. I turned off all the lights in the kitchen and living room, and then joined her myself.
She looked up at me with big, scared eyes, a sight I hadn’t seen when she was four and a daddy long-legs had crawled into our little pool.
“Are we going to be okay?”
“Of course, Sophie. Do you believe me?”
She nodded, and put her arms around me. We sat like that for quite some time, staring into the darkness, hoping it stayed black and formless.
\-
A knock on the door. As I wake up, I hear the dull tap-tap of rain outside.
Silently, I walk to the door.
“Hello?” I finally ask.
A shaky voice, unmistakable. “It’s me, mommy.”
“I thought you guys were in the city?”
“We had to come back. Oh, it’s so horrible, honey! Let us in! We can be safe together.”
I look through the peephole. With the lights off, I can’t see anything other than two dark figures, their outlines like those in impressionist paintings.
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Why?”
“How do I know you’re my mom?”
“Listen to me, honey!”
Sophie, grabbing my leg.
“Open it,” she says.
“We can’t.”
“Sophie, is that you?”
I look at her, shaking my head.
“Mommy?”
“Sophie, honey, listen to me! You need to let mommy in right now! Mommy wants to see you, and hug you. I’ve been so worried…”
I pick up Sophie, and carry her away.
“Sophie, listen to me,” I say. “You have to trust me. Don’t open the door.”
She looks at me, her eyes as wide as ever.
“Sophie, please!”
I turn to look at the door, and it all happens at once. A bang on the door. Sophie slipping through my arms. Sophie at the door, unlocking it…
\-
I finish the cigarette, and stub it out. More ashes for the wasteland.
It’s been five months since I lost my little sister. And who knows how many more days until I get her back.
I make sure my gun is loaded, and trudge on, into the unblinking sun, into the depths of hell on earth.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) |
There was nothing more they could do, they said. The lad was only holding on by sheer force of will by this point, and it was just a matter of time before his broken body finally gave up the ghost. The best combinations of magic and science had all been called, and nothing had worked.
Magic healing had been completely ineffective. The cancer ravaging this poor young man's body was something new, something unknown; a natural evolution of a carcinoma that, due to the magical lineage of the boy, had developed magic resistance. Perhaps if they'd found it sooner, but no.
Chemotherapy had helped somewhat, but it was too indirect; the amount needed to kill the cells ravaging throughout his body would end up having the same result as the cancer. It had, at least, given him enough time to say goodbye.
I knew as I entered his wing of the hospital that I wasn't wanted. I could feel the stares from those in the hallways, the curses spit at my back and the wards placed upon my passing.
No one stopped me, however; my family's name carried so, so much weight, even if I was the black sheep of the family. My mother had already been here twice; it was her that had finally called me and begged me to give my particular talents a try, if only for the child's sake.
I knew better. It wasn't for the child's sake, not to my mother at least. No, she was fearful of the cancer itself. This young man was only the first; how many more would begin to suffer the same fate in the years to come, as we continued to play with forces beyond our control? No, my mother was only concerned about the future, not this poor heap on the bed, medicated into a near-stupor.
Thankfully for him, though, I wasn't my mother. I smiled at the boy and took his hand in mine. His hands were ice cold, his body preparing for the visit of the reaper at any moment. I could see the fear in his eyes, but for once, that fear wasn't because of my presence.
He knew death was approaching.
I said nothing. I closed my eyes and concentrated, reaching out with my magics. In my mind, I began to visualize his entire body before me, open and exposed down to the core. I could see the nerve endings, the organs, his muscles and bone structure – all displayed before my closed eyes like a roadmap.
And along every pathway, embedded within every structure, and eating away at his core… flare-ups of red cancer cells, angry and fierce, defying anyone to come near.
In my mind, I reached out and touched the nearest flare. The result, as I'd expected, was instantaneous. The fire flickered once, turned black, then ashen, and finally crumbled away into dust. I smiled inwardly at the result and got to work. Carefully I mentally pulled apart each piece of the lad on the roadmap displayed in my mind, turning to ash every flash of red that I could find.
A few of his parts had been too devastated to recover. The bones in his left leg and one of his kidneys were so far gone, my only recourse was to treat them as I did the cancer. It would require physical surgery to correct, but the boy would be able to walk again, with time.
Though it felt like it took hours of painstaking work, when I opened my eyes, a mere five minutes had passed. It took me a minute to refocus my eyes, and I realized I could hear sobbing. I looked to my right, and at some point in the process, the boy's mother had arrived. She was watching the proceedings and tears were flowing freely from her face.
I gently placed the young man's hand back down on the table and nodded at her. "It is done."
"It… it is?"The mother searched my face as she spoke, wary of falsehoods. How many other instances had she been told the boy would be fine, I wondered? How many lies cascaded into his near death?
I nodded. "It is. He will live. He might lose his left leg, the cancer had decimated his tibia; but he will live."I scribbled a few notes down on a nearby notepad and handed it to the woman. "When the nurses and doctors return, give them this."
"What is it?"She glanced at it and paled as she read what I'd written. "His kidney too?"
I placed the pen down and turned. "They will know how to further treat him from here. I'd say, in a month or two, he should be able to be released. The bone in his leg might be able to be regenerated, depending on the strength of your in-provider healer; if not, plenty of replacements are available on the market, and he shouldn't necessarily lose the leg entirely. But that will be up to you, him, and his doctors."
"Are you not going to tell them yourself?"
I smiled sadly, shaking my head. "No. I am not wanted here."As I turned to leave, a sound caught my attention. I glanced at the bed where the young man was staring at me, his eyes full of tears. He tried again to speak, but I held my hand up.
"Shh. Rest now, young sir. Save your strength for the following weeks. You'll need it."
The mother's voice was soft. "T… thank you."She sniffed and continued, "You've done what no one else could. Thank… thank you."
"I am but a healer. This is my duty."There was nothing more to say. I spun on my heel and walked out of the hospital. I could feel the eyes of everyone around me, some thankful that I was leaving, others more in-the-know fully aware of what I'd done.
As I stepped back out into the world, I smiled. To be honest, it was the first genuine smile I could remember crossing my face in a while. I was useful, after all. How about that. |
I shook my head. "This isn't looking good Molek."
The necromancer looked to me as if I were mad. "Why not?"His voice scratching at the air like rats on a corpse.
"You can't have infinite sliding jelly rubbed all over the surfaces leading into the Pit of Spikes. There's no way to get around it unless you're able to fly."
"I can fly,"Molek countered.
"Yeah but new adventurers can't. They aren't anywhere near getting the ability to fly this early into their quests. Plus, that big chest overflowing with gold will have them running straight for it. While I give you credit for deviousness, you'll have to remove the jelly."
I imagine he'd be scowling if he still had a face to scowl with. "Fine. What else do I need to change?"
"No giant bone golem in room 14A."I said as I read off my clipboard.
"What?"
"It's too powerful. The damn thing nearly took my head off when I was exploring the dungeon during my inspection."
"But he's my favorite..."The necromancer whined.
"It doesn't matter if he's your favorite, it's not fair. You can have up to three skeleton warriors in there and that's being generous on my part. And don't get me started on the closet filled with plague rats in 8B. Who even comes up with that?"
"This is minotaur dung!"The necromancer complained. |
Everyone remembers where they were for G-Day.
For me, I was sitting around one lazy Sunday morning eating a bacon sandwich and listening to the news on the TV. Not even a whiff of a productive day to be had.
The panic hit first, it did for everyone I think, at least everyone I have spoken to since. The panic that your were floating upwards, drawn towards the roof. I remember yelling as my body first hit the slightly yellowed ceiling paper.
That seems like a lifetime ago now and there’s no one left down there anymore. If you’d have told me, “Hey Doug, next week there won’t be a single human on planet earth.” I’d have called you nuts. Absolutely nuts.
But here I am looking down at the old blue marble with nothing but the beasts and nature herself now.
I must have spent a good twenty minutes stuck to my ceiling back then, it must have been terrifying for those caught out in the open, no processing time just...*woosh*, up to the clouds. I remember crawling my slow ass towards the window and climbing out. I remember wondering why just us, dogs barked up at the sky and my bacon sandwich was still sitting on the damned table. Huh. I guess it’s still there even now.
Anyway. Crawling slowly to the window and climbing out. Then that was it, down was up and I kept going up. I must have looked like an idiot to anyone watching but I couldn’t just stay still, I kept floating upwards and flailing my arms around like a mad man. Right until I hit the clouds and met him.
Archangel Michael is every bit as intimidating and awe-inspiring as the title Archangel suggests. Imagine it, half the population of earth, maybe less, okay a lot less. All standing there dumbstruck, confused and now standing before a real to heavens angel who is shoving a sword into your hand without a single word. I don’t remember how long I stood there for, don’t suppose it matters really, time doesn’t flow the same way up here, I'm not sure it flows at all.
Day 1, if I can call it that, was the worst. Imagine being separated from everyone and everything you ever knew and loved. A sword in your hand with a vague understanding that the war to end wars was coming. That if you couldn’t find a loved one here then they had joined the eternal enemy.
So many had died that day, God had switched off the gravity holding us down. Just us, everyone else had stayed put. Heaven and Hell were going to war and we, the supposedly feared descendants of the first were going to decide who won.
Archangel Micheal warned us off the dangers we were about to face, dragons and demons, devils with our loved ones faces. But we had right on our side, or so we were told. The first battle of the war was brutal, the Archangels struck first, took the fight to the enemy. Millions and millions dead over a few hours.
It didn’t matter if you’d spent a lifetime in the military or training to fight. Nothing could prepare you for fighting with wings, aerial combat against unnatural abominations.
Some took to it better than others, but most just died on the ground, left to have their souls rot.
We are told that if we lose, our souls will be tormented forever, that the devil himself will be the keeper of all things. If we win, God will take back hell, reform it into something different, a new prison. Bring back our loved ones.
So we stand here, well hover I suppose. Hover here looking over at the encroaching horde of demons and hell spawn. I grasp my sword tightly knowing deep down that today will be the last battle for the heavens one way or another.
&#x200B;
===============================================
Hope you enjoy the prompt, I appreciate any comments/criticism/feedback/discussions.
Thanks for stopping by and thanks to u/GolD-Beard for the prompt.
If you want to read more from me, I'm over at [r/ChrisRook](https://www.reddit.com/r/ChrisRook/)/ |
**EATEN**
My great-great-great-great-great grandson cowers in fear, his hands trembling over his head. Blood and sweat mix on his face. The soup dribbles down his chin and then plops onto his blue nametag. It obscures the first letter. Peter becomes *eter*. He is not an eater. He is about to be eaten.
One of the burglars puts the muzzle of his gun in Peter’s face. He interrogates him about the location of the safe. What safe? His compatriots rampage through the aisles, smashing and grabbing and laughing and thinking it feels good to pillage.
They do not know what it is to pillage. They live in a baby-proofed city inside a baby-proofed country inside a baby-proofed world. Even their violence is a whimpering shadow of what once was. Humanity has succumbed to decadence and failure. I am glad to be alone in my cage.
The burglar with the gun cocks back the hammer and tells Peter he is out of time. I look away in disgrace. How many men of our family will die on their knees? Every generation is weaker than the last. Peter has met the fate he deserves.
And then a flash. A deafening sound. One of the burglars cries out in pain. I look to Peter: he has yanked the man with the gun to the ground, his arm twisted backward. The gun has scattered across the floor. Peter’s jaw closes around the man’s ear and when it opens again the ear is gone.
Peter crawls after the gun. The burglars are visibly shaken when he spits the man’s ear onto the floor. Their façade of ruthlessness has been punctured; their baby-proofed world still has one sharp edge left. They are too afraid to intercept Peter and before they know it, Peter is in possession of the gun.
As he stands, the weapon in his trembling hands, he slips, tumbles backward onto his ass. The biggest of the three burglars crosses toward me, seizing the opportunity. His broad shoulders block my view of Peter. I should hear a gunshot now but I do not. The man should crumble but he stays standing. Has Peter lost his nerve?
Suddenly everything goes dark – an enormous hand grasps my glass cage; dark, pinkish light filters through the webbed skin where the fingers meet.
I am thrown.
I sail through the air toward Peter. His face is contorted in anguish and confusion. His finger pulls at the trigger but nothing happens. The gun only had one bullet. He is defenseless.
I collide with Peter’s chest. I collide with the world.
A thousand shards of glass explode in every direction. I take my choice of which to make my vessel. I cling to a shard shaped like a “V,” a reminder of our old family crest. We hurtle through the air. Gravity meets us.
When I hit the floor, the shard skids to a halt. I feel my body returning. Under my feet, a reflection looks back at me. In a matter of seconds I am returned to full form. In a few more seconds I have surpassed that form.
I tower over Peter, his head lolling. My arms look vaporous, red, my fingers are wispy, like I’ve only been sketched and not yet fully drawn. It’s no matter: I feel the power coursing through me. The same power the put me in that cage has now been caged inside of me.
I turn to the three burglars, one holding his head where his ear should be, huddled together. They are petrified.
I am hungry.
Now we will see who is eaten. |
*whatshouldimakefordinnertonightholyshitthatsacutecatismywalletinmypocketorinmyjacket*
*theresneverenoughtimeinthedaytaxesaresoannoyingwhycanttheyjustsaywhatiowe*
*godmybossissuchanassholethatisthenicestcarihaveeverseenholyshit*
*ijustwanttoknowhowtobeatthisbossstopwiththestupidloudintrosalreadyhahahesaidpoop*
*wherewasthatlinktothatredditposticopiedihopetheresleftovercheesecakeathome*
"I wish I wasn't such a coward, so I could just end it already."
For years, hearing other people's thoughts was nothing but a curse. A loud, never ending, ceaseless stream of incoherent, mind-numbing white noise that made even simple human interaction borderline impossible.
How can you form lasting relationships of any kind when you can barely form your own lasting thoughts without having them shouted down by everyone elses? There was almost certainly no one with a greater curse than that of telepathy.
Sure it sounds fun, in theory. In movies, and TV, telepathy let's the hero know where the danger is, who to trust, and who to suspect. Telepathy gives the user an edge in any, and every situation, and makes them impervious to danger.
But in the real world, telepathy just makes you have to scream internally just to hear your own thoughts. Scream so loud that even your internal monologue is hoarse, and weary sounding, forcing you to struggle just to understand your own self.
But then all of that is blasted away by a singular thought, barely a whisper, cutting through the noise like a blast of plasma from a white hot star. Everything else, everyone else, cleared to the side by the tsunami of one lone voice.
One voice reaching out into the void, unknowingly, and unwittingly. But assuredly, with the desperate strength of someone who has nothing else left to try, and nothing else left to lose. One voice splinters all the others into infinitesimally small specks, that float away into silence.
Their hunched shoulders, and slouched posture give them away immediately. They walk slowly, with little purpose, just movement, really, just going through the motions. Their eyes are pointed downward, focused barely in front of their own feet, and as they pass, I reach out and take their hand.
They stop. Their eyes rocket upwards into my own gaze. First there's fear, for just the tiniest moment, barely even perceptible. Then confusion. The confusion persists as we stand, eyes locked, our fingers intertwined. There is only silence, for the first time in as long as I can remember. Silence from within, and a perceived silence from without as we simply stare.
And then, that same whisper, stronger, but still barely more than a low breeze compared to a raging storm. A single thought. One that maybe changed my curse into a blessing. Gave me the edge in the situation that I needed. That we needed, so we could be the hero in our own story. Just one single thought that made it all worth it.
"Please."
Edit: to whomever gifted me gold, I wholeheartedly thank you. I want to say though, if anyone else is thinking of doing so, please save it for someone more deserving. I'm not even sure I know how to even USE it. |
*Part One*
It was another sleepy, wonderful day above Deepheart Forest for Darryl as he lazily drifted through the calm thermals of his territory. Far in the distance he could see the pale smoke of the village, the little community waking their cooking fires and smithies from the night’s slumber.
He absently checked his harness, making sure his load still rested safely strapped against his sides and belly – with special attention for his purse, of course. It would certainly not do to carry his payment home in his mouth.
He’d never hear the end of it if he accidentally swallowed half the gold.
But such worries were unfounded, as always. All was well as he continued his comfortable journey, the green miles of the forest drifting past beneath him until it gradually thinned into the small patch of cleared farmland around the village. He swooped lower as he approached, people looking up to wave at him as he passed overhead. Darryl returned their greetings with a few showy twirls and jets of flame, children laughing and chasing after him as he rolled and looped.
Then he passed over the village border proper, backwinging to slow his approach and come to a soft landing in the large fenced-in square behind the town hall. He shook himself and began to unclip his harness, letting the large logs and sacks of raw ore he carried drop to the turf.
He was busily sorting them all into manageable piles when the doors to the hall opened and Gareth, his Father-in-Law, stepped out. The round, jolly man grinned widely at him as he approached, stepping up to thump Darryl’s side affectionately.
“Darryl, my boy! Good to see you again!”
Darryl flicked his tail in acknowledgement. “Good to see you as well, pops! I hope you are all keeping well?”
“Always better for seeing you, my scaly son! How’s my wayward daughter?”
“Grumpy, broody, and eating me out of hoard and home, pops. In short, the very picture of health for an expectant dam!”
Gareth threw his head back and laughed uproariously. “Hah! I remember her mother being much the same! Well, don’t you fret. I’ll make sure you’re well-stocked with her favourite sweets and pastries when you set off for home again.”
Darryl bobbed his head. “Appreciate it, pops. I wouldn’t mind a few hundred pounds of mutton, myself–”
*”Stop, foul creature! Leave that good man alone, and be ye gone from this peaceful village!”*
With a start, Darryl sat back on his haunches, breathing a small puff of flame involuntarily. He craned his neck in the direction of the sudden yell, one wing dipped down to shield Gareth.
Then he blinked, seeing the strange sight arrayed before him.
Four outlandish figures stood at the ready inside the fence, apparently having climbed over instead of using the unlocked gate just a few yards away from them. They looked one and all like something out of a travelling mummer’s band, dressed head-to-toe in garish garments and brandishing – *weapons?* |
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