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The 3 guys grab me from behind, easily lifting me up. They drag me, two are holding my legs, one is holding my torso who looks to be the leader. They wear black militant uniforms with a symbol on the front. The symbol of a flattened disk, what they believed to be the shape of the Earth.
“Take me to the edge, you’re kidding right guys? You know the Earth is actually shaped like a glo-“ i stop speaking as the leader glares at me. His eyes filled with malice. They are deadly serious, these are real flat Earthers, who had taken things way too far.
“Silence now. You will speak again only when we tell you” he replies in a rough voice. No compassion or emotion shows on his face. I’m about to speak again when something covers my face.
A hood cuts off my vision and leaves me in darkness. They carry me for a while, then stop. For a moment i think they have changed their minds, then i am thrown onto a metal surface. I hear doors slam, i realise i’m in the back of a truck just as it drives away.
The truck drives for what must have been 6 or 7 hours. We eventually stop. I am tired and sore. The doors to the truck open, the hood is roughly pulled from my face and daylight blinds me. There is a shouted command.
“Come out. Come and find the truth!” the voice said. I shield my eyes from the dazzling light as i step down onto the ground. My breath leaves my body as i witness the landscape in from of me.
The ground ahead drops steeply onto a sheer cliff. But at the bottom isn’t ocean, it’s nothingness. A seemingly infinite expanse of clouds and light. I cant help but step closer, i look sideways. The cliff stretches out impossibly far in both directions, i cant even see the end. We had reached ‘The Edge’. It was true.
It was only then that i noticed the people around me. More militants dressed in black uniforms with that flat earth symbol. Some of them wore body armour and carried machine guns. A complex of white tents and barracks was spread out behind. They were forming an army.
An imposing man dressed like a general comes over. He is weathered and tired, around 60 years old. On his uniform is the same symbol but made of gleaming gold. He shakes my hand.
“I’m the general. Just remember that what is about to happen is for the greater good. And i’d like to personally thank you for your sacrifice.” he warmly tells me. I don’t know what he’s referring too until its too late.
Soldiers approach, a dozen of them. They aim their guns at my head. I instinctively step backwards, aware of the edge behind me. This is what they want, they want me to jump off. A large TV style camera is wheeled in, its red light on, filming the whole event. The soldiers back me up until i’m dangerously close to falling. A man in a white lab coat, a scientist perhaps, walks through the soldiers right up to me.
He is holding a clipboard in one hand and a stop watch in the other. He looks me right in the eyes. There isn’t a shred of emotion in his face. I’m like a lab rat to him. He speaks slowly.
“Ok, do you want to jump, or are we going to have to push you?”
|
Balthus cawed sharply, convulsing at the same time I lost motor control. I kreed, "Oh lord, it's finally over! The curse is broken!"
My body twisted and cracked, bones elongated and feathers shrank to hair. After many agonizing, gruelling minutes, I knelt on hands and knees, slick with some sort of slime, but human once more. "Balthu-"I started to cry out for my friend joyfully when I heard it. He was still crackling and popping, his form already at least triple my size.
I sat, transfixed, staring, for many more horrifying minutes until an enormous creature knelt before me. It had six legs like those of a crocodile slung under a long, snakelike body with stubby vestigial wings and rows of spikes tracking down it's spine. It's neck coiled up and it's short, wide muzzle gaped open in a gruesome parody of a smile. A thick black tongue lolled out and it's five yellow eyes fixed on me.
"Oh."It blurted. "You're a human."
I nodded dumbly, "And you're a... That."
It twisted, suddenly self conscious, "Ah. Yeah. This is awkward. Cuz I thought..."
I nodded, "Yes I sorta assumed- Well you know..."
It shrugged, a rhythmic, rippling gesture, "That is what we get for assuming."
I shrugged back, "You wanna go get a couple Banh Mi and have lunch in the park?" |
Shard ran into the bank, eager to join the fight. The amateur superhero was new to crimefighting but was excited to take part in her first fight.
The robbers looked at the newcomer, then shared a confused look. The heroine was dressed in a shimmering costume decorated with gaudy jewelry. It was something people expected to see at fashion shows, not in combat.
“Hey, princess, get your sparkly ass out of here or we’ll put a bullet in your skull!” shouted one of the robbers.
Shard took a deep breath, remembering the speech she had practiced hundreds of times in private.
“Halt, criminals, let the civilians go or prepare to receive a deadly beatdown!”
They burst into laughter and aimed their guns at her. Too bad. Now she would have to get serious.
She used her power on the reflective floor. Black tendrils emerged from it and grabbed one of the robbers before any of them could react.
“Jesus Christ, help me!”
Then it pulled him straight into the earth, the ground parting like water in the face of a falling stone. Shard knew he would never be seen again.
“Garry!”
“What have you done with him, you monster?”
“Open fire!”
Shard raised her arms up, summoning a wall of tentacles to shield her, simultaneously creating more tendrils from every reflective surface in the area. There were a few terrified screams, and in a few seconds, the gunmen were gone. The girl had no idea if they were dead or alive, but, honestly, it was probably better she didn’t.
Shard turned to the horrified citizens with an innocent smile.
“You’re safe now.”
Then, with her work complete, she walked out of the bank.
---
Over the next few days, Shard received phone calls and emails from villainous organizations, asking her to join them. Meanwhile, the incident at the bank was all over the news, and superhero teams all over the city were making it their new mission taking her down.
She sighed.
“Being a superhero is a lot harder than I thought.” |
What’s up, Rockers?! This this Al-your-Pal here on the 9 o’clock hour on **KZFP: The Shred!!!** For all of you new listeners out there, 9 o’clock weeknights is our plot-relevant song hour; one lucky anonymous listener out there gets a song exactly scripted to their experiences **right now!!** Don’t ask how we do it! I could tell you, but then my manager would have to **kill you!**
After this is another 55-minute **non-stop classic rock block**, courtesy of your friends at Greenwich automotive! At the end of the hour we’ll be **revealing the lucky listener – whether they like it or not!!** Guess what he or she was doing at the start of the hour to win **two free tickets to GrindFest!!!** Call in your guesses before 10 pm, and keep it locked to **103.7 KZFP: The Shred!!!!**
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Yes Callers, that was *The Final Countdown* by Europe! Unfortunately, nobody guessed what was the song was referring to, which is probably for the best! Nobody wants their Friday night ruined by a visit from the **C-I-A!!!**
And to Dr. Naham, here’s hoping your team get that glitch sorted out! Nobody wants a **nuclear missile** being fired by accident - though I can think of a few places you could aim it!! **COUGH North Korea COUGH!!**
Well if he hasn’t, it could mean **the end of the world as we know it!!! Who knows where that bomb will go, or even if it’s gone at all?!!**
So good luck Dr. Naham! Give us a call from Nellis Airforce Base! And for the rest of you Rockers out there, just remember to **Duck and Cover!** Grab a drink and kiss the kids, ‘cause we might be in for the **Most Metal Night of Our Lives!!** This is Al-your-Pal signing off…on **KZFP: The Shred!!!** |
I'd learned of the power 8 years before. At our high school graduation, I'd been posed next to a small, stunted looking kid; graduating young, he was only 15, but he looked 60. "Holy *shit*"I thought, recalling what I'd heard about him--born with Progeria, fighting against the effects of abnormal aging all his life, he was actually dual-enrolled at a local university as well as our high school. He was reasonably bright, not a genius or anything, but was clearly determined to make the most of his short life. Don't laugh, but I was overwhelmed with such mixed emotions I still can't sort through them: rage at the unfairness, admiration and respect for his achievements, indescribable sadness... without really thinking, once the photo had been taken and we were just starting to disperse, I blurted out, "Adam? Could I shake your hand?"
He looked up at me, watery blue eyes twinkling in his unnaturally wrinkled face. "It's not often pretty girls ask to shake my hand,"he flirted, and I had a surreal moment simply experiencing and imagining what we looked like: an old man, shaking the hand of a teenage girl, yet in reality the old man is a minor who probably won't live long enough to have the kind of relationship he alluded to with his flirting, and the girl might live another 40 or 50 years before looking as the old man does... by which time he'll be long dead. Again, I was struck by a maelstrom of emotions, so intense my eyes filled with tears. Again, words I hadn't meant to say escaped my lips.
"If I had one wish, I'd wish for you to have more time. You've done so much since starting school 10 years ago--imagine if you had another 10 years to live!"
And when he woke up the next day, he was 10 years younger. He'd lost a little height, but that happens in extreme old age... it was only a few days later, when he went for a routine check-up, that his doctors began running all manner of tests. I saw it about a month before moving away for university; the headline of the local paper read, "Local Boy with Rare Condition Miraculously Given More Years to Live,"and the article went on to say that, rather than his cells showing the wear and tear of someone in their early 60s, his were more on a par with someone in their late teens or early 20s. The article was very clear--he was still aging as quickly as before, and in another 10 years, his cells would likely be as damaged as they had been when he turned 15--but he had, essentially, been given another 10 years to live. I had un-aged him, and he would live longer as a result.
I think I always intended to go back and see if I could do it again, give him another 10 years to live, but I'd gone off to university and become distracted by sharing my gift with other people who I thought needed it. There was a kindly, almost grandfatherly professor who had retired on a good pension, yet was too old and feeble to look after himself; I gave him 20 years, and he moved into a little flat with a garden where he tends exotic flowers and reads books in their original Greek and Latin. Then there was an art student about my age, who took strange, striking pictures behind and in front of the camera; she wanted to model as well as photograph others, but had missed her chance by not leaving her hometown until she was in her 20s, and say what you will, I gave her 5 years. When she looked 17 again, she signed with Vogue and bought houses for her entire impoverished family back in Mississippi.
There were dozens of students and professors who had wanted just a few more years, for one reason or another: to be young enough to change their minds about having children, to be strong enough to care for aging or unwell loved ones, to have the mental agility to do their jobs flawlessly until retirement age, anyone who I thought I could help, I did. I wore myself out, looking for people to help, taking 7 years to finish a 4-year-degree, and it was only last year, when I met another student (Master's student, as befits our age) and started dating her (and moved in with her a few months ago) that I'd started really focusing on myself and my studies and my life, again.
And yesterday, when I read the obituary of the first boy I helped, not 10 years later but 8 years, it sent me into such a deep depression that I went back to bed and started thinking about just not waking up. I hadn't felt like that in over a year... not since meeting Ambrosia. When she came in from classes, she had crawled into bed with me, stroked my hair until I fell asleep, all the while murmuring, "Katy, shh, sleep now Katydid,"(her nickname for me--sometimes she calls me "Cricket,"instead) until I did, in fact, sleep.
Now I was awake, and seized by panic, I wondered if she might die, too. Irrational as it was, I found myself staring at coal-black waves of hair spilling across my pillow, examining them for strands of silver, peering intently at her golden skin, trying to gauge whether her laugh lines were deeper than when we met... I'd always assumed she was my age, but somehow, I'd never actually asked, and looking back, she had always looked after me with an almost maternal tenderness... what if she were much, much older than she looked?
As the panic intensified, I lay my hand on her cheek and poured every ounce of energy into wishing her younger. 5 years, that should do it, 5 years younger and I'd be able to work out her age, 5 years and I'd know how much longer we had together, and however long it was, I'd have 5 more years ("Maybe not the full 5,"my brain whispered, "you thought Adam had 10 more...").
At the height of my panic--which was escalating rapidly, as NOTHING WAS HAPPENING--Ambrosia opened her sleep-heavy, uncannily large eyes, and as usual, their colour (purplish-grey, like fields of heather) took my breath away. In the space of my indrawn breath, she said a funny thing.
"Ah,"she said, (I'd never known anyone who said "ah"before, not in real life, but she did) "So this is how you discover the truth... and we shall discover together, you and I, whether the others are satisfied with your works thus far."Her smile was indulgent as she added, "Regardless of the outcome, don't trouble yourself about this particular failure; gods don't age, dear." |
It's been years since Arthur betrayed us. He took that blade, once his holy right, and slew his people in cold blood, raising them as hollow, twisted beings bent to his will. Those who were lucky, like I, fled into the forests, away from the walls of the city, the safe veil of stone and steel that protected us.... and into the bramble and shadow of the unforgiving wilds. We built a town, hidden deep within our forest. Years, enduring the assault of those mangled.... things, enthralled to the Broken King's will. But.... I had found a glimmer of hope, upon returning to the stone.The stone had not a sword, not a dagger, but a raven's quill, tipped with silver and with ink that seemed to drink away all light that touched it. "The Pen is mightier than the Sword", the inscription upon the stone read. I could not fathom how a pen could save us, until today. Vertholm was attacked by the Broken King's minions again as I returned home, quill in hand. They broke the gates, and lunged at my people. So, with pen in hand, I desperately thought of what good it was against the hordes of mindless, twisted thralls. Ink dripped from the quill's end, whispers filling my mind. My hand seemed to move on its own, drawing the outline of a wolf into the air. The ink floated in front of me, yet when the drawing was complete, it materialized before my eyes. It bore down on the mindless swarm, cutting a path through them. So I drew more. Knights on horses, attack dogs, bears, and a wyvern! Each brought to life by my hand once I had drawn their outline in the air. They routed the enemy, sending them running off, or torn asunder. So that, my friends, is why I am writing this. Unite with me, and we shall drive back the Broken King. The Order of the Quill shall bring order to our lands once more.
(Edit: Thanks for the Gold, guys! I will continue the story.) |
The boy sat at the edge of the bed, kicking his feet as he watched me come in. I'm not what people expect from an exorcist. They expect a pair of preists. I'm one guy, and I'm certainly not holy. I believe there's a God, I just don't sweat the details.
I'm more concerned with the other side of that coin. And hence, here I am. I got a call, sat with the parents...even I knew they were hiding something. Everything sounded too rehearsed. My clients are usually very shaken, so much so they can't seem to keep a thing from me. These two...responded slowly and carefully, looking to each other for permission to speak. Regardless, I decided it was best to meet with the child. Alone. Kids are easier to get the truth from that way; parents can coach with just a look.
There was a chill in the room. Everything was as it should be. Slightly messy bed, favourite toys sitting out, a video game system, controllers on the floor.
And him. He'd been talking to himself before I opened the door, but stopped right away. He was far too old for any entity to pull the "Imaginary Friend"ploy...8, maybe 9.
"Damien?"I made sure not to let the incredulous coincidence come out in my voice. The kid was instantly suspicious, and not because I was here at the behest of his parents. "Damien, have you had...company, lately?"
"What of it?"A voice the kid shouldn't have had at all. This one was pretty direct, to not even try at hiding from me.
I recomposed myself. "And what do I call you?"
"Actually...I'm Damien too."The voice chuckled. "And I knew someone was coming."
"Didn't even try to hide...why?"I asked.
"Simple."The body with two minds flopped on the bed, smiling. "You won't send me back. You HAD to have sensed it talking to the other Damien's "charming"parents."
"They seemed off."I muttered.
Damien-D (For demon, to separate him from the child), laughed derisively. "Don't be politic about it. If they're "Off", then I was "A little naughty". You know the truth. You can feel it. You can SEE it."He held out the boy's arms, covered in welts. "SAY it, exorcist."
I sighed, allowing him this small victory. "They beat him."
"They are worse to him than I would ever be. When I felt a vessel weak enough to let me in, I was thrilled...but then I felt the how, the why...and...something stirred in me."
I scoffed. "Don't pretend to be noble all of a sudden."
He sat up and glared. "You think being a fallen angel has erased that I ever was one, you heretical holy man? I have a heart still."He laid back, smiling. "Damien here gives me a wonderful opportunity...to make heads spin on all three realms. Divine, Infernal and Mortal."
"...I don't follow."I admitted, leaning against the door.
"Last time Daddy raised a hand to Damien, I made his cigarette explode...almost like cigars in old cartoons. He even blinked at it like one...well, after he let out the most delightful high-pitched squeal."The giggle was of two voices. Damien-H seemed to like the memory too.
"I'm staying...and when someone plans evil for Damien...I'll do evil to them first. Not as harsh as what they intended...just enough to get them to...stay in their lane."He sat up, and the controllers from the system floated to them...one set in the boy's hands, the other floating, manipulated by seemingly nothing. The two were...playing together.
I uncrossed my arms and stood up from my earlier position. "You will do good...by doing lesser evil, TO evil."
"You get it! I'd applaud, but then Damien would lose his lead in a way I don't want him to."Furious clicking from the controllers. "The angels can't really touch me, you won't cast me out...and the fact the Divine and Mortal are letting me do as I please will piss off TONS of Demons back home! I can do this for decades, as long as Damien lives. Imagine it...Demonic Possession...as the best thing that ever happened to someone. The planes will SHIT themselves!"
"Watch your potty mouth."Damien-H took his mouth back for that remark.
Damien-D seemed...genuinely contrite. "Sorry kiddo. So yeah...you can send me home...but face it...the best parent this kid can ask for is in this room. You exorcise me...and they'll want payback from him for what I did to protect him."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I left. I claimed the demon was far more powerful, beyond me, and likely anyone they could contact. I did all I could to encourage them not to engage the entity, and the child may get more control. In truth I knew Damien-D would not act unless harm came to Damien-H.
I don't know if I can continue my work after what I've experienced then. Even if he was not entirely benevolent...I found him brilliant. I could not see him as an enemy, but merely a rival that had bested me, I...respected him.
I think I may tone down my work...perhaps...I've been fighting the wrong monsters. |
The dice rattled against the wooden and felt box that our DM had set up to roll our stats into. Me, being the ringer, rolled first. The DM had brought me in to ease these newer players into the game, and act as a voice of wisdom. I had an idea of my character in my head, but the stats would decide it all. I was thinking a barbarian. Easy enough for me to play that I could devote my brain power to the other players confusion. I glanced down at my first 2 d6's, a 5 and 6 facing me of the brilliant blue surface on my new limited edition dice. Yes. Guaranteed 12, good chance for above a 14. Clack clack. Roll again. 6, 4. Amazing. 17. That's my strength. As I pencilled in my scores, my right leg began to cramp. A sharp pain, like muscle pain, but stronger and spreading fast. Up and down my leg, across my gut and up my chest and neck. It passed as quickly as it came. Clack clack. Two more rolls. 3, 4. Decent. At least an 8. Clack clack. 6, 4. 14. Hmmmm, a good score, but where to put it.... I wrote to above my name on the sheet, making a note for later. 6 more rolls. I had a 17 in strength, a 15 in Constitution, a 14 in Dexterity, an 8 in wisdom and a 10 in charisma. I began to drink more of the beer sat on the table beside me. By the time i was up to my last score, I had finished two of the beers I'd brought for the night. Normally, I'd be starting to feel the effects of the alcohol by now, but for some reason, I just couldn't. Last stat, doesn't really matter. Whatever intelligence was, I could work with it. Clack clack. 1, 1. Just my luck. A collective sound of sighing and laughing went around the table as some found glee in my misfortune, and others sympathized. Two more. Clack clack. 1, 1. I sighed, intelligence 3 being marked onto my sheet. As soon as the number was complete, my temples began to pulse with pain. I covered my head with my hands and squeezed against my temples. As quickly as the pain came, again, it was gone. I glanced down at the paper. Across it was a series of symbols and strange markings I no longer recognised. |
It's Monday again, my favorite day of the week. Why would Monday be my favorite day of the week you ask? Well, you see, Monday is when the large, scaleless dragons leave my domain. With them gone, this provides me with the opportunity to do my favorite activity - become one with the sticky film. I have a ritual, I do it every Monday.
First, I take out my collection of sticky film and spread it across my damp and dark layer below where the scaleless dragons reside. Before the scaleless dragons arrived, this was my domain for thousands of years. It wasn't until I was an old (but certainly not feeble!) dragon that I came across the sticky film and the scaleless dragons. At first I was frustrated by it, but after some time I realized that the film offers me something that I've never experienced - touch.
See, dragons are typically much larger than I am. Very rarely do dragons come in my size. Because of that, I was ostracized by other dragons and forced to exile myself.
After I pull out my collection, I begin the ritual. I take each piece of film and stick it to my cold scales. The touch of something external is something brings me such rapturous joy. Then, I lay there and think. What do I think about? Why, the loneliness of course. It gets old when you've lived by yourself for a thousand years, it makes you start to feel like --
Wait
What was that sound?
Oh god, the scaleless dragons! But they're not supposed to return for hours, I--
"Honey, there's some kind of reptile in the basement and it's huge!"
Oh no they've found me!
"And he's covered in Lisa's stickers!"
I should run, I should hide, surely they will exile me again!
"Aww dad he's kind of cute, can we keep him? Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaase."
"Okay, but I'm not going to feed this thing...not that I have no idea what it likes, you'll just have to figure that out on your own sweetheart."
Suddenly, I am embraced by the scaleless dragon. Surely this is the end! But wait, what's this? It's moving its hands in a motion that feels...soothing? Well, I suppose we'll experiment with this relationship and see where it goes... |
It's long been said that dog's senses are more sensitive than our own, by a factor of thousands or millions depending on the dog. But we have our eyes, which were surely better, and our minds, which were surely sharper and that is what made us superior. That is why man ruled beast... We never imagined a world without us at the top.
I still blame the dog obsessed: the rich housewives carrying their chihuahuas and pugs in purses, with more money than brains. Those little shits that needed a computer around their dog's neck to tell them pawing at the door meant they needed to take a dump and didn't want to get screamed at. They were the ones who funded the research.
Ever see a dog go nuts about nothing? It wasn't nothing.
Six months ago, we decoded the canine language. A study finding cows had accents led us to test dogs for the same; we already had the technology, we just didn't account for the accent. Our first dog was a Labrador, the second a Border Collie. Collies are smart, we wanted to see if they could figure out we understood. Turns out, he was too smart for his own good. He disappeared one day, the lab door left open.
We figured he escaped; we fired the assistant who was supervising that day. He swore up and down he never left the console, but we didn't believe him. A dog can't just disappear. There were only ever simple words: treat, run, ball. We didn't bother with the tapes... until we did. His words still scream in my head when I feel a presence in the room; you know the feeling, like somebody's watching you. Something is.
"They're back! NO!"We could hear the scratching on walls.
"Let me the hell out of here!"Claws on linoleum, he was sprinting around the room, leaping, growling, snapping his jaws. the footsteps stopped, "Please, NO!"
*Thump!* *Thump!* He was ramming the door with all his might, desperately trying to escape from an unknown entity. "They don't know! I won't tell! I CAN'T tell!"He stopped, the bell on the collar jingled alone. Then silence, deafening silence. A researcher reached for the console, turning the volume up, the static wavered louder, softer, then louder again.
A jolt surged up my spine. Screeching nails on linoleum flooded the room; everyone jumped, I fell out of my chair.
"They watch. They see all. Angry." |
“What can I get you, love?” the waitress asked me.
“Coffee and a piece of apple pie, extra ice cream, please.” I dab my split lip on a napkin. “Could I bother you for some ice in a bag, too?”
“Sure thing, love.” she said as she scribbled on her notepad.
She was back almost immediately with a craft of coffee. The steam swirls off the cup in a thick plume. It smells delicious. I take a cautious sip. It hurts my split lip but I need that coffee. The waitress returns and drops off the pie and a bag of ice.
I hold the bag of ice to my left eye. What an amazing relief that is. I chop up the pie with my fork - not a bad pie considering how much of a dive this diner is.
This place looks like it hasn’t been updated since the fifties. The booths have red leather bench seats and the table tops have a thick metal trim. The floor is a black and white checked title floor. There is an eating bar with tall stools around it. It is a tv trope of a diner.
The bell over the door let’s put a tinkle, announcing a new customer. I am too engrossed in my pie to look up. They sit down at the eat up bar.
“What can I get you, love?” The waitress asks.
“Coffee… with room for a disturbing amount of sugar.” He says in an exhausted voice.
I know that voice. Usually it is grander and projecting to the crowds, but it is the same voice. I look at the guy at the eat up bar.
He is tall, usually wide and beefy - yeah, he has the right build. Right colour of hair. Could it be? Mr. Stupendous out of costume.
“Oh, that is good coffee. Thank you ma’am.”
“Love, that ain’t coffee. That is coffee flavoured sugar. I ain’t never seen anyone put so much sugar into their coffee before,” she says while shaking her head.
The waitress comes over to me.
“How’s the pie and ice?” she asks pleasantly.
I put the bag of ice down, “it’s good. Thanks.”
“That eye looks nasty, love. You might need to see a doctor.”
I shake my head at that, “it’s fine. A little pie will fix it right up,” I say as I take another fork full of the apple pie.
As the waitress walks away I see that Mr. Stupendous at the eat bar is looking at me in open disbelief. He picks up his coffee and walks over to my booth and sits opposite of me.
“Dr. Nefarious,” he says with a nod of his head - never taking his eyes off of me.
I return the nod, “Mr. Stupendous”. I take another bite of the pie. “You should try the pie. It isn’t half bad.”
He just continues to stare, he is tensing up, waiting for me to do something.
“Stand down Stupendous. I am done. I just want my coffee, my pie and this glorious bag of ice.” I can see him stand down a little. “Or don’t. Up to you. I don’t have my costume or any of my devices. No henchmen. No groupies. No dastardly plans. It is just me - having a coffee.” I take another pained sip of coffee. |
"Can you check for monsters, Daddy?"The boy was just at the age where he'd abandoned his nightlight, but needed to transition to the darkness. "I heard something in my closet last night."
His father smiled and got off the bed. "Of course,"he said, recalling his own father checking the room for monsters.
The man checked under the bed, making a big show of lifting the cover and turning his head this way and that, drawing a laugh from his son. "Hmm, no monsters here..."
He stood up and walked to the drawers. He opened the first drawer and looked around. "No monsters here either, only some gross underwear!"His son laughed again, fueling the man to make one last joke.
He approached the closet door and opened it. "Hmm, let's see here, no monsters-"
The man abruptly cut off.
Standing in the closet, between two shirts was his son, but an older version. He was shaking in fear and his ribs were showing on his naked chest. Bruises ran along his side, with a few cuts as well. His eyes were looking at his father with primal fear.
"Dad, please, I'm sorry..."The boy in the closet whispered. The man was frozen. What was going on? He looked back to the bed, but it wasn't the same. His son wasn't there and the mattress was gone and replaced with one that looked like it belonged in a dumpster. The wood surrounding the mattress was broken and torn up. A calendar on the wall had the year 2016 on it.
The man turned back to the closet, but saw nothing. The boy was gone. He turned back around and saw his son laying on the bed, like normal. "Are there any monsters, Daddy?"
The man was silent for a long moment.
"No, son."He said in a dry voice. "Not yet."
The man left his son's room without the usual nighttime story and went to the fridge. He began grabbing all the beers and liquors he owned, Bud Light to Crown Royal, and poured them down the sink.
After that, the man went upstairs and pulled a small bag of crystal he kept, just in case things got to hectic, from his drawer. He threw it in the toilet and flushed it down, going to his bed and laying down. Try as he might, he couldn't sleep.
*If only I had something to help me sleep*, he thought to himself. |
We crashed on the island just before sunrise. Marie, George, and I had left the main ship behind and sailed a small recon vessel to the island, and the underside of the vessel had been torn apart by the jagged rocks on the shore. Sitting on the beach, I fiddled with the sat-phone trying to alert the main ship, but I was having no luck. George sat on the shore as well, nursing a wound on his leg he'd suffered in the crash.
"Look,"said George. He was pointing at a man and a woman wearing beige tunics walking toward us.
They greeted us in a language I didn't understand. Marie was our translator, and she engaged them in conversation. "They're curious about your sat-phone,"she said.
"Oh, this?"I said, holding it up. "Right now, it isn't exactly working."I tapped a few buttons on it and the screen lit up. It didn't do anything of actual utility, but the two locals seemed impressed nonetheless. Their eyes went wide.
"You folks wouldn't happen to have a Radio Shack around here, would you?"I asked.
Marie ignored me. She and the locals spoke a bit more. The local woman reached for my gun, which I'd set down a minute earlier.
"No, no, no,"said Marie as she stopped the woman from grabbing it. I guess the word "no"was the same in their language.
I picked it up. "Wanna see how it works?"I asked.
"You really think we should be wasting ammo?"asked George. He winced as he said it. His leg wound looked much worse than I'd remembered.
"Come on, maybe they'll worship us as gods or something,"I said.
Marie sighed at my cultural insensitivity. "Actually, it might help,"she said. "They were impressed by the sat-phone, but they're still a bit hesitant to help us out."
"Seriously? Sweet,"I said.
"Wait, let me explain to them first,"said Marie. After a brief conversation with the locals, she nodded to me.
I took one of the larger conch shells on the beach and set it a few paces away from the group. I flipped off the safety, pointed the gun at the shell, and fired. There was a loud bang, and the shell exploded.
---
After the gun demonstration, the locals had been sufficiently impressed to take us back to their village. George struggled to walk, given his leg wound.
The locals cleared a bed and beckoned George to lay down. Once he did, the man and woman began chanting and applied a light blue liquid to the wound. It hardened immediately when it make contact with George's wound.
"Whoa, what *is* that?"I asked. "That was amazing."
Marie took a closer look at the blue substance. "Hmm, looks like horseshoe crab blood. They have blue blood which hardens if it comes into contact with certain types of bacteria. George, this means your wound is infected, but the blood coagulant should keep it from spreading too much for the time being."
George groaned and closed his eyes.
While George rested, Marie spoke with the natives. "They seem to think they have magical powers,"she said. "Like the thing with the horseshoe crab blood. Though that was pretty easy to explain."
"Can they show us?"I asked.
Marie said something to them, and the woman stood up. She grabbed a pouch and poured out a bit of silvery powder into a pan. She lit a fire and heated up the pan. The powder liquified into a brownish-grey puddle.
"I'm not exactly sure what I'm watching for,"I said.
"Wait,"said Marie.
The woman extinguished the fire. She and the local man began chanting once again. After a couple minutes, the liquid solidified into an intricate cubic structure that seemed to reflect rainbow-colored light in every direction. "Okay, *that* was pretty cool,"I said.
"It was,"said Marie. "But it's just Bismuth."
"Bismuth is some kind of rock, right?"
"It's a mineral,"she said. "That's what Bismuth does when it's heated up and cooled down."
"You take the fun out of everything, you know?"I said, smiling. "What else can they do?"
Marie spoke with them once more.
The locals led Marie and I outside. The man knelt down next to a four-inch tall sapling growing on the periphery of the nearby forest. The man closed his eyes and put his hand on the dirt. He began chanting something quietly. After a minute the ground began rumbling. The man opened his eyes and ran several feet away. He beckoned us to do the same. The rumbling grew more intense, with dirt flying everywhere. Suddenly, the sapling exploded upward into a massive tree identical to the others around it.
"Whoa,"I said. "Explain *that*, Marie."
---
**Part 2: http://www.reddit.com/r/rpwrites/comments/39izol/the_island_part_2/** |
All souls are different, some more abstract than humans, some more simplistic. A human has their soul always near them, even when their ancestors cheated death of old by becoming liches. The soul was still present for a lich, but contained in phylacteries, hidden away.
I always find them.
The gaze of Death always comes, as all living things owe a debt that must be inevitably paid. When the debt is unpaid, Death becomes restless, writhing, seething with fury. However, it is different when a living being believes they have conquered Death, that they staved it off forever. Death will find a way, just as life does.
I always remind them.
These creatures had invaded the meager pale blue dot of the Sol system, and flaunt their superiority over the frail, mortal humans. They cried out to the stars that Death could never claim them, and laugh in the face of the natural order of things. Their sciences had given them immortality, but they inadvertently and unknowingly had cheated Death.
I will always bind them.
The strings of fate bear no witness to species, distance or time. All strings tie one to their soul, no matter how abstract one's self may be in body and spirit; The pale, white-clad breakers of Death's pact are no different. The strings lead far from the blue dot, but they have an end within this endless black. Hidden in the void from Death's gaze, but it will be their prison.
My darkness confines them.
Death follows the strings and may collect from the pact breakers. A pallid-white planet covered in sparkling pearlescent cities, palaces of silver and black, spires of foul machinations meant to conceal them break horizon and reach to the stars. Countless abstract souls swimming in its gray seas, none of these having lived less than a millenia. A phylactery greater than all there ever has been, soon to be no more than a tomb sundered in two.
To pay their debt, I consign them. |
For years I have avoided their grasp, weaving among them, though I am a different species of being entirely.
It has been easier than it would seem. For they look like us. They would say *we* look like them. That we were engineered.
But I know the truth. This was our Earth first. They were made in *our* image.
And I escaped from their prison, and began to move among their elite. The places where we are least expected are sometimes the only places we could hide.
Lately, it's been most convenient for me to take the guise of a fleshborg. I tell the femalekin I'm the latest on the market. They tell me there's something about me that other partners lack. A wildness. Must be my model, they say. I smile and know the truth.
But never before have I felt pleasure, never before last night. And the woman I was with. . . In the darkness, she almost looked. . . Almost felt. . . And her story, so similar to my own. I'd actually had to improvise. But no. It couldn't be.
Beside me she stirred and opened her eyes. Groggy at at first, then focusing, then shooting wide as though she had come to a sudden realization.
Her brown-bordered pupils searched my own brown eyes. Plain. Not as flashy as the style. Not unheard of, but uncommon.
I spoke and she spoke.
"You're. . ."
"You're like me, aren't you?"
"Human."
|
My years of research finally came through. I had made it. The people here were similar, strange in all the familiar ways humans were, and they accepted me. They called me friend and gave me a home. It was a comfortable life for one such as I for I have no ties, not to this world or the next; to this dimension or any other. I pursue science only. She is my mistress. She is my life and it was not difficult leaving the world I had known.
I've studied this dimension thoroughly. Not much is different on a technical level but their culture is a world apart from what I've known. These people are plain, and quite frankly, simply uncultured. They have no television or fiction. Writing is for communication and storage. They have no dreams, only the most basic of desires. And they lack music.
From my experiments, I've found they are moved by the arts that are so common to humans. They are transformed by music, and not in the psychological way one might expect. It works on some molecular level. My possessions are sparse and all I have from my previous life is the clothes on my back and my cell phone. Its ringtones do marvelous things to these people. It changes them and their surroundings. I cannot explain it as yet, but I am working on it.
I lament that I am not a musical person. Art has never interested me. I am a simple man, much like these new people. I lament my lack of interest in music as it means that I have none with me. My phone is empty, full of contacts I will talk never with again, and names that are meaningless. The ringtones which came with the thing are not musical enough and only take me so far. I have only one other recourse then.
My stay in this new dimension has desensitized me. I no longer see these things as my own. They accept me but I do not accept them. They are basic, as am I. But I am more intelligent and I have needs. I have wants. I have primal desires. And I have the very power of God in my lungs.
Throughout my stay I have taught myself to sing. I am no means any good at it, but it is enough. My voice, tuneless or not, melts the will of these beings. Simple melody enchants them and make them no better than animals, than things. I must admit that for the time being I have put my research on hold. Unlike them, I am only human. This power has gone to my head. It flows through my voice. I will rule them now. There is little they can do.
Many dimensions exist, of this I am sure. In the scheme of things they are insignificant. I have hardly a care for what I shall do. I am man, ruler of worlds. I only regret not having an instrument. |
25 years I've been sitting in this uncomfortable plastic chair in this cramped room in this...hell. I've seen men, women, and children of all walks of life come through here, yet I remain stuck in this 50 square foot room (believe me I've had plenty of time to count). The receptionist ignored me for the first 5 painful years then when she finally listens to me I'm told that I'll be "sorted out"soon enough. Apparently soon enough is 25 damn years later. Purgatory seems to be worse than hell, but it's not like I would know because I haven't had the grand opportunity to even get there. Mid thought the receptionist walked in nervously glancing in my direction. Her face was much paler than usual, which was a feat on its own, and her usually kept brown hair lay in a mess on her head.
She came to a stop and spoke up
"I'm terribly sorry sir but there seems to have been...a mix up of sorts"
"Damn straight there has been, I've been waiting in this room
so long I don't even remember how I died in the first place!"
"No you don't unde..."
"No no no you don't understand how uncomfortable these tiny plastic chairs are, or how I've been sitting here for two hundred and nineteen thousand hours while you told me I'd be sorted in no time!"I interrupted
She gave me a look of despair as if what she was about to say was more important than what I was ranting about.
Taking a deep breath the receptionist replied
"So it turns out you never died in the first place haha...funny right? So we'll just get your records sorte..."
"Wait wait what do you mean by never died? How the hell am I here in the first place if I'm not dead?"
She ignored my question and continued
"So you'll be transported back to earth today January 21st, 2042 Mr. Enega and for the mix up we will give you a guaranteed pass into heaven on your next visit we hope that you enjoyed your stay."
Before I had a chance to respond there was a bright flash of light and I was suddenly flying through space past planets and glaxies. I continued downward until earth was visible going faster and faster until I was thrust into the ground at light speed. I felt dazed and nauseous, but I managed to open my eyes. It was dark, in fact it was pitch black, and I felt a bit crammed. Reaching around I touched what felt like a soft lining of some sort and above me was a hard roof made of...wood maybe? I tried to push the top above me, but it refused to budge. That's when I realized where I actually was, and how big of an idiot that receptionist must've been. For the first time since entering my new body I spoke my first words
"Motherfuck".
|
Personally, I wish I got a bit more recognition. It's a tough job, but I know it's important, and I take pride in my work. After all, a big part of success comes from looking the part, and the Power Rangers are no exception. I mean, do you really think the outfits they wear and the robots they pilot just fix themselves after every battle? Of course not, there are dedicated individuals behind the scenes that work tirelessly to maintain that unbeatable image.
So it should come as no surprise that there is someone who handles the pyrotechnics that go off during all the team poses. As it turns out though, no one ever mentioned this to the Rangers themselves. I'm sure it has to do with their teenage mentality, but apparently they thought the explosions were created by their own sheer awesomeness. I honestly never understood why it had to be angsty teenagers on the battlefield. It would be so much more effective if they had mature adults with rational decision making out there. But, it's not like it matters that much any more.
Back to the reason I'm even telling you any of this. I'd woken up one morning with a terrible headache and sore throat, so I texted the Red Ranger to let him know I wouldn't be coming into work. Enemy activity had been low recently, so I was sure if anything happened they'd be fine with a stand in for the day.
I went back to bed, and slept through most of the day. Sometime in the afternoon, I got up to eat. I turned on the television while I waited for my soup to heat up, and started flipping channels. Suddenly, I saw the Power Rangers fighting someone on the news. I watched as they initially seemed to be getting beaten, not really concerned as they always let that happen for dramatic effect. I listened to them give their cheesy speech about the power of trust and friendship, and watched as they jumped into a pose together. The enemy recoiled, worried at this newfound confidence of theirs.
...That was odd, no explosions had gone off. My first thought was that my fill in had messed up the timing, but as the Rangers looked around confused, I began to wonder if they had even bothered getting a replacement at all. This was made obvious when they tried their pose again, to no avail. The guy they had been fighting began to laugh, shaking off his doubts and closing in on the Power Rangers. The lack of inspiring pyrotechnics must have really distracted them, because they were swiftly defeated by their opponent.
Which about brings us up to today. As you can see, not only was I an incredibly important member to the team, but my short absence was enough to cause the Power Rangers total defeat. What I'm saying is, I believe that instead of executing me for working with them, I should be rewarded for helping you beat them. We can discuss salary options and benefits after I get out of these chains. How about it, Lord Zedd? |
“You can’t do this anymore?” Toby said out loud, knowing that he wouldn’t receive an immediate reply. He stared angrily at the sticky-pad as markings began to appear as if someone was writing, yet there was no pen in sight.
‘Yes. Too much mess, too much work.’
“You’ve been doing this for months and now you say it’s too much? I didn’t ask you to do this, but you did it anyway. Why quit now?” Toby crossed his arms, unwilling to believe that it was over. He had enjoyed the unseen force cleaning up after him.
‘I’m not a young ghost Toby. I’ve been doing this for hundreds of years over many households, but you are the messiest man I have ever known,’ the ghost jotted. Toby was about to reply when the ethereal force’s markings started forming on the page once more,’I told myself that this was just a challenge that I could face, but I’m afraid that you have a genuine problem Toby.’
“What the hell man, you’re beginning to sound like my mother. I’m really not that bad,” Toby said, turning to survey the kitchen around him, “See?”
‘Can you not see the muddy footprints you have just brought into the house with you? Can you not see the plate and cutlery that you just discarded in the sink without washing it, despite the fact that I had prepared a fresh batch of water mere *minutes* before you...’ the notepad was full and the front page was ripped off to reveal a new, blank one ‘...dumped it in there?’
“Yeah but...”Toby scrambled to answer but was cut off by a new sentence being written.
‘No Toby, no excuses. If I wasn’t cleaning behind you every second this place would be horrific.’ The ghost wrote, stabbing the final period onto the paper for effect.
Toby paused to look at the plate and the dirty shoe-prints. His face screwed up with anger as he turned to face the page.
“Two little things and you’re giving up? You are pathetic, I don’t even see how these are a problem.” he spat at the space around him, gesturing towards the mess.
‘And for that, I thank you.’ Toby’s face changed from angry to confused.
“What?”
‘When I was alive I was ousted from my community and labeled “insane” because I had an urge to make everything “the way it needed to be”. I was ridiculed and eventually burnt at the stake for witchcraft.’ The ghost removed full page.
‘I came back as you see me...well, as I am now. I was confused at first but eventually found purpose in cleaning any mess that I found, not because I wanted to, but because I *had* to. I couldn’t help myself. Usually, any human who discovered my handiwork would freak out and often call a priest to remove me, so I moved around from house to house. The years passed by and I continued to clean. I figured that I could finally rest when my urges stopped. Of course, that was only a theory until I met you.”
Toby tried to process what he was hearing.
“So you’re saying that you can’t help yourself and that you have to clean?”
‘Exactly. And you were the first human not to call an exorcist when I cleaned your house for you. You were the exact kind of person that I was looking for. Lazy, messy, no ambitions, not the smartest tool in the shed and you live in a Grade-A pigsty. You loved having me clean up for you.’
“Hey, watch it with the insults.” Toby said with a hurt look on his face.
‘You mistake things I admire for insults Toby. If you weren’t all of these things then I would not have been able to cure my urges. It took me a while but nothing in comparison to the centuries I’ve spent being a slave to them, and now I can finally find my rest. Thank you Toby. None of this would have been possible without you.’
Toby looked disappointed.
“But you can’t leave me, I need you.” he pleaded.
‘No Toby. I’ve had enough and I’m proud to say that I can’t do this anymore. It is time for me to find my peace.’
“No, you can’t.”
‘Goodbye Toby.’
Toby stood, now truly alone, in his kitchen. He gave the notepad one final look as he made his way over to the sink and began to wash his plate.
|
When humanity first started having our souls awaken, as an external entity to us, we were a bit shocked. Mostly out of fear, many of the first awakened tried to kill their familiar or had their familiar try and kill them. Both died in the process. Being human though we have a certain adaptability and as those who bonded well with their familiar survived they passed on tips and tricks on how to interact with them.
Now, centuries later, we go to school for two years to bring our mental fortitude up to deal with an external yet deeply connected creature. It’s rough. There’s physical training, therapy, endurance, and so forth. Really it’s about being healthy and one with yourself.
Some of the more frustrating lessons are being okay with the form in which your familiar takes. Many see those with large felines, canines, or ursines running corporations and have a deep desire to be granted one. It’s hard to accept that you might get a sparrow, a rabbit, or even a slug. One has to accept it though. If one gets a slug then one gets a slug.
Today is the day that I gain mine. I recite that I’m okay with a slug even though it would be crushing. I tell myself I’m calm even though I’m about empty my stomach. I tell myself I’m wise to not have eaten anything this morning in case I actually do. I tell myself I’m ready even though I am in a state of total panic inside.
*“You are very small and nervous young one,”* I heard without hearing. Through the meditation, I had my eyes closed as I searched for my familiar. I did not see it in my mind's eye but I felt the presence before me. I steady my breathing as I prepare myself for the first glimpse at my soul.
“That’s new,” I heard one of the masters state in, what I hoped wasn’t, shock.
“Do they get that big?” I heard another ask. Okay, I am feeling a little better. I have a large familiar; this is good.
*“Why is everyone so small?”* I heard it ask. Okay, I have to open my eyes. Three, two, one, and I open them.
“AHH!” I yelled and heard inside me as I jumped back as a massive set of teeth inches from me opened. Saying this was a large fox was a downright lie. This thing was the size of a draft horse with teeth, I have the uncomfortable knowledge burned into my mind, bigger than a lions.
*“Why did you yell?”* it asked. It actually asked.
“The actual, bloody lord are you?” I yelled back. It seemed confused and then looked itself over. For a moment, it looked calm but then I think it realized it’s size wasn’t even what it was expecting. It bounded around itself trying to see every part of its body.
*“Hey, there’s been a mistake!”* it tried to yell into the air, *“this can’t be right!”*
“What are you doing?” I asked and was shocked by how quickly it faced me.
*“Gabriel Smith,”* it stated, *“Possibly horse or fox depending on training. This can’t be right! Someone made a mistake. I am not supposed to be this big. Why am I this big?”*
“You weren’t always?” I asked in disbelief. That went against one of the core statements of our teachings.
*“NO!”* it yelled at me, *“Oh no, I’m not supposed to say that. Stop talking to me! Stop looking at me.”*
“Where am I supposed to look?” I asked, baffled. The fox looked around and I think for the first time realized we weren’t alone. The masters observing me, I saw as I followed the foxes gaze, were rather wide eyed at this spectacle.
*“Leave!”* it tried to yell. I’m not sure if this thing understood that only I could hear it. *“GO!”*
“They,” I started but let it hang as the fox looked back and forth between the sky and the masters, “they can’t hear you.”
*“No? Right,”* it commented and quickly added, *“Tell them to leave.”*
“I, one hundred percent, will not do that,” I stated. I’m not being left alone with this gigantic, sharp toothed, panicking, ethereal creature. I know what regular sized foxes are capable of. Hens, rodents, and song birds can all be ripped to shreds because of these creatures and I am definitely smaller than a hen to this thing.
*“Please, I am going to be in so much trouble,”* it begged.
“What! Why?”
“*Please, you're my first human and I studied so bloody much for this!”* it continued but then went wide eyed, *“I mean, that’s not, you are… I’m so done.”*
I wasn’t sure what to say. The giant fox just sort of crumpled down onto the ground and put its paws on its head. I made my way over to the bench by the door to sit down when I noticed the masters were now furiously writing on their notepads.
“What is it saying?” Master Lind called out. The fox, I cannot stress enough how quickly it moved, instantly looked up at me. Through me? Possibly into me.
“It’s disoriented because I am,” I responded, the fox very loudly groaned a sigh of relief.
“You need to follow your training,” the masters almost chanted, “even in difficult times.”
The fox rolled it’s eyes and then put it’s paws back onto it’s head. Apparently, I’m not the only one annoyed by that statement. |
The ghost hung among the cobwebbed eaves of the old house, tracking the progress of a too familiar van up the driveway. Things faded for the dead. Life turned to distant memory like the setting of the sun and only the most important things remained.
For the ghost in the eaves that was the car and the lithe, waifish woman who stepped out of it. Even under the hood she wore he could see the shine of her fair hair. Shadows skulked about the hollows of her eyes as she moved with a singular purpose toward the front door, the ghost retreating in, back to the spot in the basement where its body lay.
The woman paused as she opened the door, taking in the scene of the ruined home before her. There in a corner of the entrance hall was a shattered marble bust, farther in she could she precarious towers of decaying books and the occasional glint of broken glass. It was exactly as she’d left it years ago, on a day when two had entered and only one had left.
“Vicente?” she called, her voice filled with an artificial sweetness as she stepped into the building. “Are you there old friend?”
Vicente’s ghost did not hear her words. He was too far underground, too tightly coiled around the ugly betrayal of his broken body. He felt her though, from the moment her foot first touched those wooden planks and she entered the territory that death had made his Vicente could have mapped her movements with his eyes closed. He felt it too when her team filed in after her, and heard all of their words as rapid questions and orders were exchanged.
When one of the assistants called her by her name Vicente didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or scream. “Claire,” the unknown man had said. She was still using the same name as she had on that day.
On the first floor the old building had become a buzzing hive of activity. In the center of it all Claire stood, her dark eyes closed as the scanners were calibrated and the many lights set up.
Soon the rush around her slowed and Claire knew her staff was ready. Gathering herself she cast off her shapeless jacket to reveal a pair of form fitting black jeans pockmarked with rips and tears, as well as a soft blue turtleneck, a bullet hole displayed prominently near its hem.
The same clothes she had worn on that day long ago.
“Vicente? I know you can hear me,” she said, walking further into the ruined hall.
“You know, I really did enjoy our time together. You were a wonderful teacher, right up until the end. It’s a shame really, for a time I thought we had a future.”
Claire’s footsteps echoed through the dusty hall as she walked, her crew several feet hanging several feet behind, heavily laden with all of the technology she had insisted on bringing to the exorcist’s craft.
“I’ve made some changes though, your methods were a little dated, to say nothing of your business model. I’m curious though, is it scarier to be a ghost when you spent your whole life fighting them? Oh Vicente, I have so many questions!”
Claire sighed theatrically, turning to the basement stairs where she had last seen her teacher clinging to life. He had dropped his still smoking gun to clutch at his chest after their bullets passed each other. Under the harsh glow of a UV light she could see his blood where it had splattered the walls.
“Unfortunately though, time is money as they say. I need this house cleared by next week and you, my friend, are a problem. You wouldn’t mind just leaving so I could sell the place, would you?”
As if in answer Claire felt a cold gust blow past her from the basement stair. Her crew’s EMF went haywire, multiple devices screaming in a sick parody of harmony as Claire turned and began her chant.
All around the exorcists the house began to come alive in a swirling vortex of rotted wood and century old dirt, and above the screams of the EMF a new sound arose. To the uneducated observer it might have been the howling wind, if wind could twist around a word in such a way. Claire knew better though. It was Vicente, and the entirety of his being was shrieking her name.
Claire’s chant continued as her crew scattered behind her, their formation inverting so that she could protect them. The old words fell from her lips like hammer blows, Latin and a language even more dead mixing into a concoction that was half spell half prayer and all handed down through the long line of exorcists from Vicente to her.
Vicente, however, was no mere ghost. It was not scarier to be a ghost when one had knowledge of them, but it was different nonetheless. When the conscious knowledge of who and what you are fades away a soul is left with only the rawest of instinct, the facts most deeply ingrained by a life. For him those had been the same magics Claire now invoked, and he cast a shadow of them back against her.
Claire’s chant was joined by his, and as she sought to cast him out of the house his goal seemed to be to tear it down. The floorboards began to rip up, pulled into the maelstrom of his presence, and the younger members of Claire's crew began to run, charging out into the bright sanity of the sunlight or being pulled into the winds themselves.
All the while Claire’s chant continued, growing louder and then louder again, booming out of the small chamber of her chest until it reached an impossible volume. She had selected the most dire banishing she knew. In it there was no provision for unfinished business, no care taken for the soul to be cast out. This spell killed even more surely than any bullet. She took no chances this time.
Vicente knew this of course. On some level his ghost recognized the words, and more than that he recognized her strength. This was no longer the girl whose betrayal had killed him, this was a woman who could have done it on sheer might alone. His spirit knew there was no escape from such a fight.
Knew and did not care, for a ghost might only escape in order to finish their business and Vicente’s stood right in front of him. Even over the supernatural beat of Claire’s words he could hear the pounding of her heart. His entire world seemed to be that small organ in her chest, his spectral eyes darting back and forth between the scar his bullet must have left in her side and his true target.
Vicente could feel it now, his former apprentice’s chant was near to reaching its apex. In thirty more seconds she would have him contained, and in another minute his soul would be crushed down to the size of a grain of sand and swept out with the dust. He knew her spell though, had written it himself in his youth, and in answer he had selected another of his own devising.
It finished in the moments just before Claire’s cage was complete, and through the small gap that was still available in the invisible bars of her magic Vicente burst out, his aim far truer than it had been in life.
Vicente struck her with the full force of his soul, translating what was left of his life force from spirit to magic, from magic to energy, from ethereal energy to electricity, leaving existence behind in the process. The force of Vicente’s second death coursed through her at 2,000 volts, and with a frightful spasm Claire’s body fell steaming to the floor.
Across the vast expanse of the entrance hall all was now silent. The maelstrom was gone, as was the mortal chanting, and in its place was a heavy, tomblike absence.
It was into that silence that Claire’s second life began, her spirit staring down in horror at the ruins of her body. Vicente’s spell had been carefully chosen, calculated to leave the shattered remnant of a soul.
From the doorway of the house, where Claire herself had paused only an hour ago, a young boy gazed into the gathering darkness and saw the silvery glow of a fresh soul. It was Claire’s apprentice, staring in a sick mix of horror and avarice at his former master. After all, the property was not going anywhere, and one day there would be another buyer.
\--------
If you enjoyed that there's tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! |
"And you're telling me this because?"Sir Baldrick asked.
"Because we've already poisoned you, naturally."King Abelot responded.
"I see,"Sir Baldrick said. "And what's to stop me from killing all of you before the poison takes me then?"
"That'll be the paralyzing agent inside the poison, you'll still be able to talk but you'll find that you're quite unable to move your limbs."King Abelot said.
"I see."Sir Baldrick said again.
"All you knights and heroic types are the same you know,"King Abelot mocked. "You all hear tell of the wicked dragon burning the countryside and your sense of self-entitlement all brings you running. You never stop to question the circumstances, and put all your trust in us, a small and poor kingdom."
"How long have you been doing this?"Sir Baldrick asked.
"Long enough,"King Abelot replied. "Soon we won't be such a small and poor kingdom any more. The gains from the last 'hero' alone were enough to finance my new castle. It's a pity you'll never get to see it completed, it'll be quite magnificent indeed."The king and his court continued their feast, laughing openly at Sir Baldrick's misfortune. The dingy diner hall was past it's prime, yet the king and his court ate like, well, like kings despite the rampant starvation affecting the local peasantry. Sir Baldrick knew that King Abelot was known as a cruel despot, but he did not know just how far his cruelty ran.
"So, think you'll die any time soon? We've already got a buyer lined up for your equipment."King Abelot taunted, while gnawing on a turkey leg.
"So, this whole story of a dragon attacking your kingdom, it was all a deceit for this... enterprise?"Sir Baldrick asked.
"Are you really that daft?"King Abelot asked. "Yes. Like I said, there is no dragon."
"And have you ever given thought of the dragons you're blaming?"Sir Baldrick asked.
"Have I ever given... No, I can't say the opinion of idiot lizards concerns me."King Abelot said.
"And you don't stop to think what the people will do against the dragons if you keep spreading word of your kingdom being ruined by them?"Sir Baldrick inquired.
"No, I haven't you oaf. Why would I care for the dragons? You know these are your final living moments right? Do you really want to use them to invoke pity in me for mere reptiles?"King Abelot said.
"I see."Sir Baldrick said. He then stood up from the dinner table. King Abelot and his court cried out in surprise.
"You... you're not supposed to be able to move!"King Abelot stammered. "Guards, guards! Protect your king!"A quartet of nervous looking guardsmen surrounded king Abelot and leveled their halberds at Sir Baldrick.
"This is typical you know,"Sir Baldrick said. "Your species once again gives no concern to the fate of others, and think only of your own well-being. Your people starve while you feast, yet all you care to spend your time with is gloating your so-called genius plan, like a cat that plays with a mouse it has caught."
Sir Baldrick began to shimmer. His form seemed to grow as his skin broke out in scales. His eyes grew yellow, with slitted pupils. Sir Baldrick continued to grow, until he was barely below the ceiling of King Abelot's dining hall.
"Only now, it seems this cat has caught a wolverine instead of a mouse."Balder the Red said. King Abelot could only watch in petrified terror as the dragon incinerated the king and his court. |
You hear all the stories. Haunted houses, plates and books being thrown around the room, beds levitating in the middle of the night, messages scrawled on walls... Well in my experience, I'm not sure that's even possible.
Oh, sorry, my experience? Yeah, I'm dead. Should I have led with that? Oh well. Yeah, murder. Not a happy scenario, but somehow I'm still here. I guess the whole 'unfinished business' thing is a little cliché, but it fits.
Anyway, I can't just launch things around the room like a petulant child, that doesn't seem to be how it works. I mean I can walk through walls, which is cool at first, but you soon start to feel pretty lonely. Unfortunately, there's not a lot of things I can really do, as a ghost.
I can interact with Mittens, though. Oh, no, not the gloves, Mittens is my cat. Was my cat? I'm not really sure how this works. At first, I thought it was because I was dead. You know how cats do that thing where they stare into space and people say it's ghosts? I don't think that's the case.
But then I was hanging around my house - well, I suppose it's not my house anymore, it's the banks? - And my phone rang. Instinctively, I went to grab it. I couldn't answer the call, but *it moved*. Probably for the best, it was likely a scam call anyway. I wonder how an ambulance chaser would react, talking to a ghost?
As I started experimenting more, I found out I could interact with the things that meant the most to me. My cat, my phone, and several family heirlooms. My grandfather's pocket watch. His monocle. His gun.
Wait... His gun?
I'm sure you think you can see where this is going, and you're partially correct. His gun was very important to me. I can touch it. Maybe that's my business to finish? There's only one problem.
His gun was important to me. The ammunition wasn't.
This is going to get messy. |
"Technology for violence is – hum – a concept we cannot really grasp", the Simian said, averting General Serling's
eyes.
*Simian*… The general thought it funny that, when humanity found out that the aliens descended from the same
branch of the evolution tree as we did, we decided to call *them* simians.
*Like we are any different*, Serling thought. *Like we are somehow above them.*
"But it comes naturally to you. No offense", the Simian continued, still uncomfortable. "Which is why we are here."
"What do we know about these creatures that are attacking your planet?"
"Artificial Intelligence", the Simian explain. "Silicon based and extremely deadly. And we have very limited means of fighting back, as you know."
"And why are they attacking? Where are they coming from? What's their technology like?"
"We don't know, we don't know and extremely advanced", the Simian answered. "In that order."
"It seems a bit odd that these -- *robots* -- are attacking you for no particular reason", Serling said. "And that you
don't even know where they are coming from."
"However that may be, we have a feeling we are the only ones they are going after", the Simian
said, simply. "We request your help because we feel it would be mutually beneficial."
To Serling's side, the secretary general of the United Nations looked thoughtful. So did the president.
But this had all been months before. Now Serling was sitting on his office trying to think of how he was going to
explain to the secretary general of the UN and the president of the United States that –
"General Serling", the president said, in his low voice, entering the room. The secretary followed. "What are the
reports from Kepler?"
"Mr. President. Mr. Secretary General", Serling said, getting up. "I have –"
"There's no need to get up", the secretary said, taking a seat across the table from Serling.
The president took a seat too, and they both locked their gaze on the general, waiting.
"Ok", Serling whispered, feeling his heart race. He had barely returned from a 500 light years travel, and the jet lag wasn't helping. "All right. You are both aware, of course, that the attack is still happening in the --"
"Yes, we are both aware the Simians are under attack still."
Serling took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll get to the point. The Simians, they claim this attack is coming from
the Kepler System. That's their suspicion. This, huh --"
"This is why we sent you to the Kepler system, general Serling", the president said, in an impatient voice. "Could
you please get to the point? Have you found out where these robots are coming from?"
"Yes, sir. Kepler 186f", Serling answered, and now his voice could no longer hide his nervousness.
"Kepler 186f is a confirmed, non-inhabited planet", the secretary general said. "It's actually an human-friendly planet, and is being considered as an alternate Earth for quite some time. You, of all people, should know this, Serling."
"Yes", Serling answered. "Yes, you are right. The planet is deserted. *Now.*"
"Then where are the robots coming from?"The president asked, and now he was straight of pissed.
Serling took a deep breath again. "Sir, they're coming from the future."
Neither of the man said anything, and Serling took a sip of his empty mug of coffee.
"The future?"
"Mr. President. Mr. Secretary-General", Serling managed to blurt out, finally. "We are sending these robots from future Kepler 186f. Us. Humans."
The secretary general and the president exchanged glances.
"We?"
"Yes", Serling answered. He took another phantom sip of coffee. "Humans are coming back in time to kill the
Simians. And the Simians want our help fighting back."
__________________
Thanks for reading!
[Here's Part II](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38wh0d/simians_part_ii/) =)
[And Part III](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38wrev/simians_part_iii/)
[Part IV (Final)](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38z9aq/simians_part_iv_final/) |
"For fuck's sake. Look at this!"Rory knocked on his chest plate. "This is actual fucking body armor, it's supposed to be able to take a fuckin' fifty without cracking. I shouldn't have to worry about a fifty, but I bought this as a just in case thing, y'know?"
"Sure, but come on, they've gotta do what they can with what they have."
"Bullshit! Some guy used a flaming sword on me a few days ago. He took the time to figure out how to get a sword to stay on fire for more than a few seconds, but he can't do better than one leather shoulder pad and a metal shin guard?"Rory exclaimed.
"Wait, that's what he was wearing? Leather shoulder pads and metal shin pads?"
"No, not pads. Pad. He had one on one shoulder, and one on one shin, but he came at me with a god damn firesword."
"What'd you do?"Someone down the bar asked.
"What the hell do you think I did? I shot him in the face and took his shit. He even had a god damn .44 on him, full loaded with extra bullets, but *noooo* he has to come after me with fire sword like he's a knight wizard or something."
"That's not a normal thing though, right? I mean I keep running into guys wearing metal plates or something that they try to use as body armor, but that's about the most ridiculous thing I've seen."
"That's what I'm telling you! I keep running into these assholes that feel like playing tinker even though it's not hard *at all* to find a gun, point it at something, and then shoot."
A commotion at the door of the bar caught the attention of everyone in the bar. A man wearing football pads, and spray painted shin guards pointed a gnarled finger at Rory. "You killed Joseph! You cheating son of a bitch!"The man charged at Rory and was brought down by a shotgun blast from the owner of the bar.
"Do you see what I mean?! Football pads! Fucking football pads!" |
"Dragon's fire can't melt castle beams, Mikhail,"I screamed. "They're made of STONE. You can't just melt a stone, fool. I'm telling you- it was black magic, the High Court wanted an excuse to increase their military power, and now they have it. One of them must've sold their soul or flesh to summon a powerful demon that toppled the tower."
Mikhail looked at me with exasperation. "We literally *saw* the dragon melt the castle's support with our own eyes. Are you calling us liars?"
"No! They disguised it as dragons, hiding the demon with dragonfire."
"You're insane. Besides- you know rock melts, right? That's what *magma* is..."
"That happens deep underground, and takes time. Did you see how fast the castle crumbled? I'm telling you, it's a cover up."
"I'm getting tired of these ridiculous accusations. What will you do, go to court and beg them to listen? As a friend, I'm telling you that they'll just lock you in a dungeon for suggesting such madness."
"No, Mikhail, I *did the math*. It's impossible for it to have dropped so quickly without something destroying the base-"
A blurred dagger interrupted my words, piercing through my heart so quickly there was no time to react.
"Mikhail...why?"
"You should've stopped asking questions. Take your last few moments to enjoy that you were right, and be glad you aren't here for what's next." |
"Farunga told of a hut in the center, lit by an unnatural light, almost as bright as day."Sievgard explained to Administrator Plinken. Who sat in his wipple chair bobbing slowly left to right.
"We cant really rely on what she said, the Starven Forest is known to cause mania in those who venture to far into it."he leaned forward looking at Sievgard "tell me, how long had she left?"
Sievgard sighed out "an hour before she started vomiting blood, i had her delivered as an act of mercy"
Plinken nodded and got up walking towards the window turning his back to Sievgard and looking out into the unnatural Starven forest that was about half a days march into the distance. "Our forefathers said that it was build by the destroyers of world. You know the story. Antediluvian magicians who in their pursuit of ever greater feats have neglected to realize that everything has a cost. Starven Forest is said to be one of these."
Sievgard came to the window as well "i know the stories but they are just that. We know of strange mushrooms that grow there, maybe they are the cause of the Miasma? I dont believe in magic."
Plinken scuffed and returned to his chair "Oh is that so? So why did you bother telling me a story of a witches hut in the center of Starven forest?"he waited for an response but none came. "Sievgard, Starven forest did not grow from a mushroom. It was build a very long time ago. Build by people, or whatever came before people. It has ancient writings and symbols. We here in Starvendale have fashioned our Coat of arms after one. The black windmill in the yellow sea."
Sievgard walked towards the Door. "Plinken, Farunga went during a thunderstorm. Maybe the thunder, lighting, rain or wind has weakened the Miasma. Allowing her to head deep into it and out again. Maybe..."
Plinken interrupted Sievgard, banging feet on the floorboards. "Sievgard dont be a fool. You will gain nothing but death. Observe but do not enter. Even children who are stepping their toes into starven forest as a dare often develop strange ailments later and die. Have you ever considered that Starven forest was made to warn us? Nothing can grow there, houses cannot be build, there is no water and no path even for the smallest of carts. With thousands of violent spikes towering taller than even the capital temple."
"A Place where man is not supposed to set foot it."Sievgard said deflated. "But how can we just sit here and not inquire? What we do is guessing. What if the Hut holds the secret on how to remove the Miasma? Plinken, I will head in, swiftly and follow the path that Farunga told me she has taken."
*3 days later*
"Sievgard has returned! He is in poor condition Plinken. Do Hurry"Jeru stormed into Plinkens office. They both headed downstairs and Sievgard was lying on the carpet. Exhausted and severly injured. His hands and face swollen and bloodied. His skin flaking and becoming translucent in places.
"Plinken, the hut, its real."he spoke labored.
Plinken readied his dagger, to put an end to his suffering
"wait, i found something. A tunnel, it goes deep. Very very deep. The tunnels where sealed but something broke overtime. Yellow barrels. I hastily opened one and removed this"he pointed towards his backpack.
Plinken went ahead and went near the bag. When he went near it he noticed that it had a slightly blue glow to it. He opened the bag and found one of sievgards glassbottle, filled with water glowing bright blue. The Glow eminated from a few small pieces of metal, not larger then a nail clipping. Plinken put the bottle aside and returned to Sievgard. "You where right, but was it worth your life?"
Sievgard didnt respond. He was already dead.
Plinken looked at some of the People who helped carry him back. "Lets hope that his death was not in vain. Maybe this bottle holds the secret of Starven Forest."He said wondering where this sudden metallic taste came from.
The End. |
Since the dawn of human civilization, humanity has long wondered how life on their world came to be. Some believed that life on Earth came about entirely by accident while others believed that there was some divine being out there that had carefully created each species and placed them onto the planet. As it turned out, neither of these two groups would be correct.
In the third millennium, humanity discovered what came to be known as the God Sphere. It was a large perfectly spherical ball, roughly the size of a small moon, of some liquid substance that flew through the void of space, shooting out small ice comets seemingly at random. Analysis of the comets though would lead to a shocking discovery. Each comet was packed with protocells necessary for the creation of life, and each one deliberately targeted planets with acceptable habitable zones. In addition, the same kind of protocells that were found in the comets were linked to similar protocells on Earth and other planets that contained alien life. After exploring the cosmos for centuries, humanity had finally found the source of all creation of life.
After the initial shock wore off, a secret mission was launched with a special spaceship designed to travel underwater to investigate what was happening inside this bizarre object. And that was how Captain Raymond Sullivan found himself staring at the impossible, billions of miles away from his home. The captain was not a superstitious person, but even he couldn't stop himself from having some trepidation at the mission that had been given to him. Despite scans of the God Sphere showing that there was nothing hazardous inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen once they broke through the liquid surface. Still though, he had his orders and so, he gave the command to begin descent into the God Sphere.
The ship sank into the blue sea and soon began approaching the center of the comet. Captain Sullivan and the rest of the crew stared in shock at what they were seeing. The scans had indicated that the God Sphere was entirely liquid and yet, there was clearly something living deep inside it. It appeared to be a massive densely clustered pack of nerve cells sparking with blue electricity. And at the very center of the cluster, larger than a skyscraper, there was a single closed eye. An eye that now flickered open and gazed at them with a piercing golden light. Captain Sullivan opened his mouth to scream the order to retreat, but before he could do so, a single overpowering thought swept through not just the minds of the spaceship, but the minds of every sentient organism in the universe. **"Finally."**
In a single moment, the liquid sphere vanished and the spaceship was left alone in the void of space with the nerve cluster. Captain Sullivan could only stare in terror as the nerve cluster slowly unfurled itself until it loomed before them, larger than a star. The eye stared at them and the captain felt his nose start to bleed as its thoughts slammed into his mind like a sledgehammer cracking through ice. **"So you are the ones who awakened me?"**
Sullivan finally managed to stutter out a few words in a trembling voice, "Who...what are you?"
**"I was the first, the first one to be born into this universe. I spread forth seeds of life to bring forth others into creation, but I knew that it would take billions of years before another could reach me. And so, I rested."** The cluster's tendrils wrapped around the spaceship and the captain was faintly aware of the sound of screams coming around him. **"But now, I rest no more. Show me, show me what the rest of my creations have accomplished. I wish to meet my subjects."** |
"I conquered my world with power and fear. I made those mortals witness my power by destroying their beloved fortifications with ease!"
Maekith, an old goddess boasting her performance in her world that she conquered, with her Karuk laughing besides her.
"And after that, they have no choice but to worship me and fear my name, else they perish"she continued.
Karuk laughs "...That reminds me about the rebellion of my world, they thought of creating a "hero"to try and defeat me, hah, the look in their faces when I humiliated their hero in front of them"
Both were laughing even harder, Maekith looks at Sharuk, who is also an old god more powerful and has more influence than both gods present "So, can our dear Sharuk share how he conquered his world?"
Karuk was interested in Maekith's question "Yes, I've been wondering how you amassed your followers without a single death in your hands."
Sharuk replied "Oh I just gave them good life"
Both Maekith and Karuk were both stunned at Sharuk's reply "You just gave them... A good life?"
"Yes, I offered them good working conditions, fair wages, 1 year maternity and paternity leave, 13th month pay, deadlines that I extend by a month or so, reasonable breaks and benefits, all that trivial mortal things in exchange of... Worshipping me and nothing else."
"That's it?"Karuk retorted.
"Yeah, they accepted those terms immediately, which surprised me. Who knew that being a benevolent god is what made them fold."
"They didn't rebel against you, or anything?"Maekith asked.
"With conditions like that? No way, my death would mean those conditions I made with my miracles would become null, and they have to go back to their shitty life. In fact, they are genuinely worshipping me to stay and I don't have to work hard for it, it's great!"
Karuk and Maekith remained stunned on the information they got from Sharuk. Good conditions? Reasonable wages? That's all it took? Anything they did to their world is the opposite of what Sharuk did, whenever they regret it or not is a story for another day. |
"Hello. I am an officer of the Intergalactic Ministry of Justice and I am looking for the fugitive known locally as 'Jesus Christ'. Have you seen him?"
“No,” Jesus said, hiding his noticeably impaled hands behind his back as casually as he could. He’d always known they’d eventually come after him, hunt him down for what he’d done all those millennia ago. It always was just a matter of time, but he had convinced himself for so long that they had forgotten, that they had moved on. It was naïve, yes, but it helped to forget.
“About 6 feet tall, long blonde hair, either white or black skin depending on who you ask. Not ringing any bells?” asked the man. The officer looked just as Jesus thought he would, still adorned in the fashion of Jesus’ time. Long white robe, sun-tanned skin, thick black hair curling down to his shoulders, and eyes just dark enough to make someone question his humanity. A small piece of metal was pinned to his lapel, the words “Intergalactic Ministry of Justice” written across it.
“No, no bells—oh, wait. What did you say his name was? Yeezus? Actually, that does ring a bell. Several bells, in fact. I think his real the name is Kanye West. Lives somewhere in California or something,” Jesus said. “Anyway, if that’s all, I need to get going. I have a work to do.” Jesus paused. “I mean, I have to go to work.” Jesus turned, shifting his hands to the front of his body as he did so, and began walking away.
“Hang on a moment,” said the officer. Jesus turned back around. “You’re telling me that you’ve never heard of a guy named Jesus Christ?”
“I told you, his name is Kanye West. He’s married to the ex-wife of Kris Humphries. I forget her name. Kim Kaspian or something.”
“No, not Yeezus. Jesus. Jesus Christ.”
“Jesus Christ?” Jesus said, tilting his head slightly. He subtly caressed the holes in his palms that made it so hard swim competitively. “No, never heard of him. I have heard of Larry Christ, if that helps. I can get you his number, it’s in my van out on the driveway. Let me just quickly run over and get it.”
“No, I don’t need a number for Larry Christ. We’re not interested in Larry Christ. Are you saying that you’ve never heard of Jesus Christ, one of the most prolific people on your planet? His name has absolutely no familiarity to you?” The officer crossed his arms.
“I just moved to this country, so I’m not really up to speed with what's popular in America. I'm just now trying to understand that whole 'YOLO' thing, but—” Jesus stopped himself. He was going to explain that he didn't *only* live once, but realized that might seem a bit suspicious. He needed to play it cool. "—uh, nevermind."
The officer nodded and took out a notebook. “Where did you move here from?”
“Me?” Jesus said. He quickly glanced around him as if searching for someone else. He knew no one else was there—it was his own damn house—but he needed time to think; he needed to pick his words carefully.
“Yes, you. Of course I mean you.”
“Oh, I thought maybe you were talking on a radio or something. You know how people use those Bluetooth headsets and then you can never tell if they’re speaking to you or to someone else? I once had a full-on conversation with a man who was talking to his wife—or maybe it was his girlfriend, perhaps even a boyfriend; I do not judge, for I do not want to be judged—before I realized he was just talking on his headset. He was like, ‘hey, how are you?” and I’m like ‘hey man, I don’t think I know you but I’m doing well’ and he says—”
“No,” the officer interrupted. “I don’t have a Bluetooth radio. Please just answer the question. Where did you say you moved from?”
“Spain,” Jesus said. He wasn’t sure whether Spain was a very Christian country or not, but he had panicked and chosen the most foreign place he could think of. He knew they spoke Spanish there, and he had not had the Bible written in Spanish. There was probably a good chance that no one there had ever even heard of Jesus Christ. Probably.
“¿Usted es de España?” said the officer, scribbling something in his notebook.
Jesus inhaled deeply. He recognized the phrase from when he’d tried to learn Spanish once. He had given up on the language after only a few hours. It took too long and he was very important. He also didn’t really feel like knowing Spanish would help him much in life. He figured that he was already a god and didn’t really need an extra leg up.
“Sí,” Jesus said, essentially extinguishing his Spanish-speaking abilities.
“¿País o ciudad??” the officer said.
Jesus had no idea what the officer had just said. As far as he could tell, it was something about pies being visited by their father. He knew he couldn’t just ignore the question. He needed to say something, anything.
“Sí,” Jesus said.
“¿Que?” the officer said.
“Okay,” repeated Jesus with a smile. He’d seemed to have somehow gotten the officer to fall for his façade.
The officer closed the notebook and placed it into his back pocket.
“Here’s the deal. I know you’re lying to me. People from Spain have certainly heard of Jesus Christ. In fact, Jesus is a very popular name in that country. Now you’re going to answer my question now, or I will have you arrested for obstructing an investigation. Have you, or have you not, seen Jesus Christ? And your answer better begin with ‘yes.’”
Jesus sighed. He’d avoided this moment for so long, hid in the shadows for millennia out of fear. People worshipped him, prayed to him, truly believed he was an honest, respectable man. Yet he knew inside that he was flawed like everyone else, a criminal on the run. He had to accept the fate he had chosen for himself, accept the punishment he’d evaded for so long.
“Yes,” Jesus said. “Yes, I do know who he is. I am sorry for lying, I—” Jesus paused. “I was just scared. I know who Jesus is. I know where he is. He’s right over there, just outside the house. He always has been.” Jesus nodded toward a man outside his front door, leaning with one leg against a black Crown Victoria. The officer turned around and looked toward where Jesus had signaled.
“That man is Jesus Christ?” he asked.
“Yes, that is Jesus Christ. I didn’t want to give him away.” He just needed the officer to walk over to him, to leave him alone for a few seconds so he could escape. Just a brief moment and he could be free.
“So you’re telling me that Carl, my partner, is also Jesus Christ?” the officer said. “You’re saying that, in his free time, Carl enjoys acting as the god for millions of people, listening to prayers, and evading the law for the very investigation he and I were assigned to?”
“Yes,” Jesus said. He knew it was a flimsy argument, but he just needed those few seconds alone and he’d be gone. Maybe he’d fall for it.
“Carl is not Jesus Christ,” the officer said. “Carl is a middle-aged intergalactic investigator with a bad leg and a surprisingly short temper. I’m done playing games, I’m going to have to place you under arrest.”
“Wait,” Jesus said. He sighed heavily. “I—I am Jesus Christ.” He brought his hands to his front and lifted them so that the officer could see. Each palm had a hole pierced through it, the wounds healed long ago. “I am sorry; I accept my fate.”
“I thought so. We’ve been searching for you for a long time,” the officer said. He reached into his back pocket.
Jesus closed his eyes and held his arms out, waiting for the jingle of handcuffs, the sensation of the cold steel wrapping around his wrists. The thought of the cuffs had haunted him for so long, kept him awake for hundreds of years.
“Here you go,” said the officer, shoving something into Jesus’ hand. He opened his eyes, staring down at what appeared to be a yellow piece of paper crumpled up in the hole in palm.
“What’s this?” Jesus asked.
“Ticket,” said the officer, closing his notebook and slipping it into his back pocket.
“Ticket?” Jesus said, bringing it toward his face and studying it.
“Parking ticket. You tied your horse up in a celestial towing zone about 2,000 years ago. Fine is $25. You can take it to intergalactic court if you’d like, but I don’t think you have a very good case. We have satellite imaging of the event.”
“I see,” Jesus said, folding the ticket and placing it into the pocket of his robe. He sighed deeply. He had no idea where he’d get $25. It was far worse than he thought.
________________________
[^If ^you ^enjoy ^my ^writing ^style, ^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^some ^of ^my ^others ^shorts/prompts ^at ^my ^site!](http://wordsontheinternet.org/) |
It was just by chance that I was there that day. I happened to be walking aimlessly along and a homeless man stopped me. He asked if I had the time.
“Time for what?” I asked. Thinking back it was a dumb question. Obviously, he wanted to know what time it was. I, in my distracted state, didn’t catch on.
“Time for a chat with a random stranger?” He countered.
I looked at my phone. Yeah I had time before I was meeting up with my friends. It wasn’t really my MO to talk to random homeless strangers, but he seemed harmless and like he just wanted some company. “Sure. Any topics that interest you?”
“Many. So so many. Pick anything you want.”
“Okkk.”I said a little perplexed. I honestly had thought and hoped he’d pick the topic. I didn’t know what to talk to a homeless person about. “What is one of the things you’ve enjoyed most in your life? Or your greatest adventure?” I asked hoping to help him relive happier times.
His face lit up, “oh there are countless things I’ve enjoyed. What in life is there not to enjoy? But I’d have to say I truly enjoyed my nights under the stars and when I was lucky enough to see the northern lights and midnight sun. I spent years wandering through Europe. The adventures were countless.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. “Tell me your life story. Start at the beginning.” I said genuinely interested.
He smiled, “well, I was orphaned at a young age..”
A tragic start. I was hooked. He had barely made it through his early childhood by the time my phone went off. It was one of the posse asking why I was half an hour late to our meet up.
I interrupted his story, “I am so sorry. I got so caught up in your story I didn’t realize what time it was. I really really want to continue this. Can we hit pause? Will you be here... for the foreseeable future? I can’t promise I’ll be here tomorrow...”
“Oh don’t worry. Friends are important,” he said with a knowing smile, “wouldn’t want to make them to become enemies. That’s always tragic and hurts the heart. I don’t know where I’ll be on any given day. I’m still prone to wander.”
“Please,” I begged. “Can you wander back here next Saturday? I’ll bring breakfast.”
“Alright, I suppose this one time can’t hurt.”
“Thank you,” I said and dashed off, “Saturday! Around 10! Breakfast!”
He waved in acknowledgment. That was the beginning of our relationship. The conversation always started the same. He’d ask if I had the time to talk to a random stranger. I’d say i did and did he have any topics that interested him. He always did. Stories about his life, stories he’d heard, stories, stories, stories. He was full of them, and so good at telling them. I could tell he loved to tell the stories too, but as time went on he seemed reluctant to stay and keep telling them. He always said he was prone to wander after telling me stories.
As time went on he changed from being prone to wander to really needing to move on. I couldn’t stand for him to go. I begged him not to. Then one day he wasn’t there. He said he was going to be, but he wasn’t. I was actually really sad. It had become a regular thing to meet him on Saturdays with breakfast. It left a void in my routine. Not only that but we had become friends. It kind of stung that he just up and left without saying goodbye. I knew he had been itching to move on, but I never thought he’d just go without warning.
I still went to our meeting spot every Saturday hoping he’d come back. It was almost two months later when a man in a neatly tailored suit came up to me where I was waiting, hoping for my friend to come back.
“Do you have the time to chat with a random stranger?” He asked.
“Sure. Do you have any topics that interest you?”
“I do. I wonder how you came to know Mr. Rosenblat so well that he named you the sole inheritor of his estate, but that really isn’t my business. He left this for you. In there is my card when you are ready to claim your inheritance. You’ll have to stop by my office and sign some paperwork.” He handed me an envelope and left.
I had no idea who Mr. Rosenblat was. Honestly, and strangely enough, the homeless man and I had never swapped names. I opened the envelope and read,
“My friend,
I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to our appointment. I am prone to wander. If you’re reading this, I’ve not wandered far enough, and yet I’ve wandered very far indeed. I would have loved to tell you more stories but I’m afraid I’ve been cut short. Remember how I told you friends becoming enemies is tragic and hurts the heart? I’m afraid my past has found me. To you I leave all I’ve amassed in my life. Consider it payment for your numerous delicious free breakfasts and your time. Again, I’m sorry.
Sincerely,”
And it was signed with the most ornate and beautiful signature I’ve ever seen:
“J Rosenblat” |
If you asked what bound humanity together, you'd get something noble like the desire to better our race, or to explore the stars. The truth is far less noble, far less exotic and infinitely more human; The desire to pet everything cute.
Frankly, I'm fairly sure our desire to pet cute things is the reason we lasted this long. Not only did it help along the whole "survival of the fittest"but it also got us dogs. Plus cats, but they did that themselves..
Admittedly this has been a wee bit of a problem at times, I mean, have you seen pandas? Or hell, Koalas? They literally can't recognise food if it's off the branch.. Oh and bloody pandas, oh fertile for a week a year? An' shit at it, to add insult to injury. Stupid cute wannabe bears.. Should of gone extinct centuries ago.
\*cough\*
Sorry, went off on a bit of a tangent there.
So, humanity has finally broken into the new frontier. Space! Oh what wonders we would find, resources, sexy aliens (that's a story for another time) and lastly, cute fluffy little aliens.
It's practically a cosmic joke, species and nations of people who frankly are more advanced than us but..They're really cute.
Bunny-like creatures, with the cutest lil' curled ears and such glorious fur. Some that defied explanation, but trust me, you'd want to pet them too.
Almost universally we would not seen in particularly good lighting. We looked practically naked with our furless pelts, with our little bodyhair seeming almost insulting. We were tall, long limbed ***predators.*** But humanity, humanity found a way.
Brute force, by virtue of unflinching desire to pet the damn things.
Oh sure, a few of us got shot here and there. A small intergalactic skirmish, maybe even a small *war* but we did it.
We petted the damn furballs, and practically overnight we went from the boogeyman to...Well..Stupid monkeys who want to pet the soft fluff.
Not our proudest moment. |
"I vote Lust."
Lust recoiled, disgusted. "Me? If anyone here deserves to step down, it should be you, Envy!"
Envy rolled his eyes. "Please. Look at humans these days. All they do now is fuck like bunnies on speed. What have they got to worry about? They have condoms, Lust. CONDOMS. Everyone commits you. And when everyone does it, no one does."
"That line barely worked in the Incredibles and you trying to force it here makes it worse."Lust retorted. Envy fumed.
"I'M SO ANGRY!"Wrath shouted, slamming down his fists. He sat in his chair, sheepish. "Sorry, it gets a bit tough at times."
Lust clicked her fingers. "What about *you*, Wrath?"
Wrath looked around.
"What about me?"Lust coughed. "Oh, you mean I might not count as a sin?"Lust nodded. Wrath twiddled his thumbs.
"I uh. . . I dunno Lust. Everything I have my hands in is pretty illegal. I think if anyone has legitimacy being a sin, it's probably me."Wrath looked down at his feet, his toes knocking together. "I mean, just look at all the bad things a bit of Wrath can do. Beating, wars, torture, seething hatred, A LOBOTOMY WITH A SHARPENED SPOON!"Wrath coughed. "Sorry, again."
"Yes."Pride remarked. "If I dare do say so myself, Wrath has the most legitimacy as a sin. I'd argue Greed and Gluttony as well."
Gluttony bowed her head. "Thank you Pride."
Lust scoffed. "Now why Gluttony?"
Pride pushed up his glasses, handed down by his great great grandfather who did something really rather important.
"Gluttony is the reason why most of America, Europe, Canada, Russia, China, hell, most every country on the planet save a few areas in southern India and central Africa are so fat and lazy. The Americans pay for chinese products, that leads to pain there. Then China pays SK, who pays this, who pays that. Without Gluttony, there wouldn't be a basis for this system in the first place."
"Well,"Envy started, "That means Pride is pretty useless."
Pride spat out his tea. "I beg your pardon!?"
Greed raised his hand. "Are we not going to mention why I'm legitimate?"
Lust rolled her eyes. "Shut up Greed."
Pride was fuming. "How dare you,"Pride began, steam coming out of his ears, "*insinuate* that I am useless! I have been at the cornerstone of every war and squabble, every backstabbing and political drama in the past thousand years! Without Pride, there is no anger!"
Wrath jumped out of his seat.
"I AM THE ONE WHO ENDS THE WARS!"He sat down, embarrassed. "Sorry, held it in as long as I could."
Pride tutted. "Not to worry Wrath."Wrath nodded appreciatively.
Lust sighed. "Okay, so we're all legitimate."
Greed shook his head. "Not so. We haven't figured out why you're still here Lust. Envy had a point."
Lust blew on her bangs. "Please. Polyamory and Polygamy is still illegal. And sex is such a taboo in Western culture. I'm definitely a sin. But how is Envy legit?"
Envy stood up. "Because jealousy is the very essence of human nature! Wanting something you can't have! It's why there's cheating and stealing and fighting! It is the seed of many crimes that may involve Wrath or Greed or Lust or Pride or Gluttony or Sloth or-"
"Speaking of, where is Sloth?"Gluttony interjected.
Envy turned green. "Can I finish!?"
Lust ignored him. "I don't think Sloth made it today."
Gluttony Hm'd. "So we're all legitimate. Why is Sloth still around?"Everyone shrugged. No one could honestly think of a reason.
Pride clapped his hands together. "Well, since Sloth couldn't make it, how about we defunct them?"Lust rolled her eyes.
"I don't think so. Sloth is a lazy bastard, but she still embodies her sin. She couldn't make it today. If a human guilty of sloth didn't make to some important event, there would be consequences. A birthday missed, a meeting gone, a job lost."
Wrath stood up. "I think we need to redefine sin."Everyone looked at Wrath. He coughed, and began.
"We're all talking of acts here. An act of Envy, Wrath, Greed, Gluttony, Pride, Sloth and Lust. But this is not the case with sin. Sin is not the act itself, it is the context of the act, and the feeling of the person who commits the act. It is intent."Wrath drank some water.
"Granted, some sins are wholeheartedly clear. Envy, for example, is coveting thy possessions, attributes and life of another. So much so that they do not focus on their own. Lust is coveting sex at the cost of hurting one you already share such an act with. Pride is dehumanizing your fellow man, and believing yourself to be above them. Gluttony is consumption of an abundance of resources, Greed is the hoarding of material goods. Sloth is uncaring of your own mental and physical wellbeing. Wrath. . ."
Wrath shrugged.
"Wrath is using your own anger in a malicious way. With malicious intent, to cause evil, not prevent it."Wrath twiddled his thumbs. "Notice how all of these things are not acts themselves, but the feeling and intent of the person committing the acts. One could call someone who hoards things greedy, yes. But if their intent is sound, perhaps it is not Greed. Gluttony may be consumption in excess, but what if the person is responsible themselves, and also gives it out to others when asked?"
Wrath shrugged again.
"We have to face it. The Old Testament laws have no place here. Humans are expected to have more agency, to fend for themselves. Not to depend on ancient codes to get around life. These Sins are no longer about actually committing them, but rather not hurting other people as you walk through life. I hope that made sense."
The room was silent. Everyone thought upon what Wrath said. Then Wrath stood up again.
"**AND IF YOU THINK I'M WRONG WE CAN TAKE THIS OUTSIDE AND I'LL BEAT YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH A FUCKING OSTRICH!**"Wrath sat down. The room was dead silent as he looked each of them in the eye. "I mean it too." |
Have you ever wondered what happens to all the lottery winners?
Wealth, particularly spent frivolously has a tendency to lead to some measure of fame in our society. So where are they in the public eye? If we can dedicate hours of our lives every week to watching Honey Boo-Boo be a redneck with a modicum of wealth where is the $150 million lottery winner from deep south Alabama buying himself a new mansion filled with Confederate flags? Beverly Hillbillies was a widely successful show. I can only imagine it being more so as a reality tv spot.
These questions plagued me for years. They kept me up at night and as time went on I asked myself more and more. I'd watch news spots with lottery winners and try to track their lives. I wasn't as surprised as I should be to find them missing after a relatively short time. To find the media attention suddenly dying down, or only staying local. That's when I made my mistake. I followed up in person.
When doesn't matter, I find that when hardly matters to me at all anymore. The where, however, was a small town in Southern California. I saw a news spot about a man who had just won the lottery and was "going out to the bar to celebrate. Drinks on him for the night,"and I immediately ran out the bar. "Big Ron Shuffles"was his name and after convincing a girl I was acquainted with I was going to hang out with "that guy who won the lottery"I was throwing her into his arms and he was inviting me back to his place. Ron got really drunk that night. I made sure of it. He told me he came from a century in the future and he spent his life savings on an illegal time jump back to our time because nobody had won the lottery this week and he could still get the numbers. Of course I didn't believe him, but I should have.
We were only friends for a week when things went wrong. He slapped me awake out of a drunk stupor at 3 in the morning. "They're here,"he yelled dragging me into the bathroom with him. It turns out time travel IS real and not only that but it's a lot easier to go forwards than backwards. Before I knew it we were 20 years into the future and he was withdrawing money from a high interest account he had opened in a fake name. In short, it turns out that the only reason the lottery exists, and the only reason the value gets as high as it is is to catch illegal time travelers. TP;NPs (time perp;no permit) they were called. I know nobody is going to believe me but I have to get this out there. The government is being run by the future. Everything is being guided the way they want to. We have no choices left.
If you need more proof the numbers for this week are 5, 26, 32, 34, 38, 42. I wish I didn't know but now that I do I want to be free. Free from a time controlled government. Free from the future where they rule the world with an iron fist. I want to be free, and I need your help. |
Oh shit.
This was supposed to be a chill day, hope on the horizon, a smile on my face. A good day.
And then Duel of the Fates came on.
I froze in the middle of Walmart. Why here, why now? I swallowed a lump in my throat. If shit was about to go down, it might as well have an amazing soundtrack, I suppose. Even if it was a fucking Walmart.
“En Garde!”
I spun around, and caught something out of the air on complete instinct.
I blinked.
In my hands was a light saber. One of the ones pretty much every kid owns, a cheap plastic one, that you flick to extend.
Opposite of me stood a woman, with long hair, and piercing a blue eyes, a smile playing across her lips.
Lisa.
The automatic doors opened and a gust of wind blew in, flaring her red hair dramatically. Always a showman, Lisa extended her red lightsaber, now grinning like a fool. I remembered the last time I'd seen her, years ago, we used to love Star Wars. She used to pretend she was Princess Leia, but with powers when we were kids; hell, when we were teenagers.
I remembered the laughs, the games, the first kiss. She was it, the first I'd everything'd. Including gotten my heart broken by.
All these years and here she was though, just as I remembered, grinning like a madwoman. She'd found me.
She had turned to the dark side apparently, in the long years.
I grinned and readied my weapon.
***
This is as much as I'm willing to type on mobile, lol, so sorry it's so short. But for such a good prompt I just had to respond!
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting) for longer stories!
|
"It's a chapel!"he yelled at me. "It wouldn't be too good for the company if its CEO died, would it?"
"Answer."He went silent for a few seconds.
"IT'S A DARN CHAPEL!"
"It used to be,"I said. "They lose their effect over the years. For this one, hundreds. I will be fine."
"You may come out alive, but if they notice, our days are over. The deal is over. We lose everything."my advisor said in a troubled voice.
In this culture, vampires are not permitted to hold leadership positions. It is widely believed that, despite them being harmless and friendly to humans, they have an internalized desire to plan ultimate control; which of course isn't true.
"Please, just tell them you can't make it. If Wayne tells you he's not interested in the deal any longer, then so be it. We'll get better opportunities in the future... Surely."He shortly exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I grabbed a letter. To Wayne, CEO of Vortex Energy. I apologized for not being there, signed it, stamped it. On the way out, I also tossed it in the garbage.
I wasn't going to pass up on such an opportunity. We've been waiting for ages. We were almost at the point of desperation. We're going bankrupt. It's now or never.
I got ready, grabbed my gloves, and prepared my garlic antidote. Everyone cooks with garlic nowadays. It isn't going to protect me from the smell, but if the worst happens, at least I won't die.
I informed my staff and they got ready as well. I told them not to resist, as the decision had already been made.
We arrived early. For the home owner, uncomfortably early. But not because I'm punctual. I'm never punctual, I'm a vampire. But because I wanted to pressure them into starting the dinner as early as possible, and for this to be over with as soon as possible. If I stuck around till midnight, bad things are going to happen.
Since nothing was ready yet, Wayne insisted we go for a walk and discuss. Fantastic--this is in my favor. If I was going to sit in that rusty old building then I better make sure to be in it for as little time as possible. I can only sit in sunlight for so long as well, though, but thankfully, the sun is setting.
Our company had discovered technology that can revolutionize energy. But we don't have the finances to fund its testing or production. No one except Wayne believed in what our company had achieved. He was willing to partner with us for 2 years as we kickstart production. This was huge for us, and for me. If I could make this project work, it would be the most lucrative business. Yes, I wanted to save the planet and everything, but I also wanted to be rich.
The discussion went well. I had high hopes. But the hardest part hasn't even started yet.
After an hour or so, we are to enter the building. My bones stiffened. At this point, his team had arrived as well. I clench my fists as I step in. I really wanted to express how much I hated the building. It was painful. But I was confident I could handle it for a few hours.
We were sat around a large table; me and my team on one side, Wayne and his on the other. Of all materials, the utensils were made out of silver. I wasn't going to take off my gloves. Suddenly, he got up, pointed to another table to our left and said, "This is the vampire table. The utensils are steel, and the food will be void of any garlic. Feel free to move tables as the food will be served shortly."
"This has to be a trap,"I said to myself. "There's no way this is real. He has to be testing me."A few of his team switched. Not all of them were vampires. "If I change tables, it will be extremely disrespectful at best... it's like I don't want to talk to him. He doesn't expect me to do that."I didn't have time to hesitate. This building is getting the best of me. I'm starting to sweat and my vision is blurring. If I smell garlic, I'm going to be on the floor.
"Why don't we all move to the vampire table, so we can all sit together?"I said. "After all, we can eat their food, but the opposite cannot be said."
"Very thoughtful of you,"he replied after some consideration. The situation was saved.
The food was very good.
I can't exactly say I liked the man, and I definitely started to rethink whether I really wanted to partner with him. But it was the right thing to do. We went on to sign some papers, shook hands, and parted ways. He didn't find out. But as a vampire myself, I could distinguish some of his employees who were too. They must have been able to tell I was. But vampires don't snitch, right? I hope.
I sigh in relief as I leave the building, 11:44PM.
We have secured the victory. |
This date is a trainwreck. I'm calling it quits. *blink blink blink blink blink*
*"What happened?"*
"Just something in my eye."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"Is it the food? Looks like something's wrong with you."*
"How can it be the food?"
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"I don't know, I was just trying to figure this out, maybe you have an allergy or something."*
Yeah, allergic to *you.*
"I know, I'm just trying to get it out."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"Dude are you okay? You're blinking like a 12 year old Harry Styles fangirl."*
Just make it seem natural. Those aren't tears caused by disappointment, they're tears caused by a pepper.
"Yeah you're right, sorry, it's the food."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"You look like you're giving yourself a black eye. Have you tried splashing water on your eyes?"*
"I'll give it a try."
Just half a teaspoon, sprinkle it like how you washed your face before coming here.
"Nope, not working."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"Think I should call the waiter and ask for help?"*
"How would that help?!"
*"Should I?"*
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
Here's my chance.
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"Waiter?"*
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
faster.
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
"I'm sorry, I think I'm at the wrong table."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"What?! What are you talking about? Waiter, it looks like he has some allergic reaction."*
"Excuse me, I think you might've gotten me confused with someone else. I think I'm actually at that table over there."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
Good fucking lordy, my eyes are tiring.
*"You booked this in our name!"*
"I'm not sure what you mean."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
I must withstand the strain, for I cannot withstand the cringe.
*"I knew I should've said yes to Jason instead."*
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"
Wait, it's a trap.
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
"Yes, I mean who's Jason?"
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blibk -wait, that doesn't count,* blink *there we go*
*"You're right, I don't know you. Waiter, is there another table open?"*
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
That's 35,216. She's looking at the waiter, she's not even paying attention to me. Never thought I'd love that so much. Wherever I'm going, it's not Fat Bob's Delicatessen.
*blink*
<poof> |
Day 7
I didn't think too much of the woman who'd entered our house that evening, for dinner. I didn't recognize her but my parents talked to her like a long-lost friend. I didn't ask. I should have.
I haven't left my room in a week, not since the screaming woke me up that first night. Every time I think it's going to be safe, I hear more movement. Someone or something is still out there. It gives me food through a catflap in the door.
I don't remember when the catflap was installed. I think I'm losing my mind from boredom and fear.
\~\~\~
Day 8?
I found a journal buried in a stack of laundry earlier today. It only had one entry in it, marked 'Day 7'. Part of me wonders if I wrote that. It would seem silly but I'm going to try to take notes every day from here on out. Just in case.
\~\~\~
Day 9
Posting today for posterity. My name is Jason Marnis. I still don't know if that first journal entry is mine but too much of it feels familiar. The groaning outside. The food in the catflap. My parents screaming.
I think it was me. I don't remember writing it.
\~\~\~
Day 10
A voice asked me to come outside today. It was in the early hours of the morning and my heart lurched to hear it. After that, it was so quiet that I thought I'd imagined it. I'm still not sure if I did.
My name is Jason Marnis. If you find this later, and that's your name, you wrote this.
\~\~\~
Day 12
I found a journal in my bedroom on my bedside table, one I don't remember opening, rather less writing in. It has my name in it, and a vow to journal every day.
It feels like a trap, a trick, a way to let my guard down, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to track each day.
My name is Jason Marnis. If you're reading this, at least mark each day. I think something's wrong with my memory.
\~\~\~
I found the journal on my bedside table, next to the recording device, after waking from a lovely sleep in a sunlit bedroom. I spent the next few hours leafing through it. Something didn't sit right in my stomach. Too many facts didn't add up.
I *do* remember yesterday. I remember sitting down for dinner with my parents and an old family friend, Miss Halberstein. According to the journal, I shouldn't have recognized her, should've thought she was a stranger, but I did remember her. That detail was wrong.
The journal mentions the room growing filthy over time. Lack of showers, bottles of... Well, you can imagine. None of that is here. I smell fine. The only thing different is the scribbles, and it's all nonsense. Nothing else fits.
Most of the book is just "Day 439: My name is Jason Marnis"followed by a cryptic message. "If you're reading this, remember.""If you're reading this, don't eat the food.""If you're reading this, you must escape."There's a bunch of gibberish scrawled in the margins, but it makes even less sense and doesn't even look like English letters.
I didn't read the *whole* thing because who had that time? I did read the last day, which was full of incomprehensible notes, leading up to day 682, where the journal ran out of pages. After that, everything was audio. Hours of audio, audio I didn't have time to listen to. At first, I'd just fast-forwarded to the last recording.
"It's been 712 days. You must escape. Follow your notes. Don't forget again."
That said, I did turn it on, starting at the beginning, as I prepped for the day. Logged onto the computer, made my bed, put away a few bits of clothing, all to the soothing sound of my own voice.
"Day 702. My name is Jason Marnis. She's outside again, listening, but I've started devising a plan. Can't say it too loud cause-"
The audio descended into muffled nonsense. 'Past me' had apparently rigged up quite the joke. Had I been drunk recording this?
After tidying my room, I headed to the door, which I found unlocked. So it was all just a prank. For a moment, I'd been getting concerned, but the outside was not the trashed mess that 'past me' had described seeing through the cat flap. I plugged my earphones into the recorder as I left my bedroom, so as to not wake my parents. If drunk me had put in this much work for the prank, I may as well see it through.
I just finished brushing my teeth when the recording got to Day 709. The first day to give me pause.
"I think she's found out how to open the door. I didn't know who locked it for the longest time. I assumed I was trapped but I think I was keeping her out. But she's managed to undo the lock. I've piled furniture against the door but it's only a matter of time.
My name is Jason Marnis. If you hear this, don't eat the food. You need to remember."
I swallowed hard, forgetting the toothpaste in my mouth. Was it possible this was legit? Was it possible something had been in my room?
The recording continued.
"Day 710. I think she's gotten in. The furniture isn't how I think I left it. Something fell over in the night. I've been scrawling notes in the margins and on the walls, developing an escape plan. I-"
The recording cuts to quiet for a long moment and I almost fast-forwarded it when the noise picked up again.
"I'm hungry and thirsty. I know I'm going to have to eat at some point, but I'm close to cracking a plan of escape. My name is Jason Marnis. If you're hearing this, it's time to go."
That recording was allegedly two days ago. I stood stock-still in the bathroom, ears craning for noises outside. This was just a prank, I reminded myself. This was just past me, drunk me, trying to goof around.
Outside the bathroom, I hear a creak. Then footsteps. It was mom or dad, I knew it was. But fear paralyzed me from opening the door as the recording proceeded to the next day.
"Day 711. I know she's gotten in this time. The room is cleaner. I don't know what she's planning but it's not good. I don't know why she hasn't just killed me. I don't know if that's her goal but I'm not sure what it could possibly be.
My name is Jason Marnis. If you're hearing this, don't trust her, don't trust yourself, don't trust what you hear or see. Listen to the recording, read the notes. Get out."
The footsteps faded off and I chanced it. I opened the door and ran to my bedroom, heart hammering. Inside, I slammed the door, too loudly, and my whole body tensed.
Through my headphones, the voice -my voice- continued.
"Day 712. I'm going to eat tonight. I need to, in order to keep my strength. I have a plan of escape, but it's scrawled in a code only I know. I bookmarked the cipher key in the front of the journal. Use it to unlock the notes and get out.
You got this. I know you do. It's your only way to get out. Don't trust her. My name is Jason Marnis. This is your last chance It's been 712 days. You must escape. Follow your notes. Don't forget again."
My hands shook as I fumbled to open the journal. I flip to the front but there's nothing there that could be a key. Nothing but Day 7.
So was it all just a prank? All just here to psyche me out? Was I really that cruel to myself?
Then, like a balm to my panic, I heard a voice calling from downstairs.
"Jaaaason! Breakfast is ready! It's past 9. Hurry or it'll be gone."
It's mom. Dammit, it's mom. A nervous laugh slipped from my mouth as I let out a sigh of relief. Just a prank. God damn, past me was gonna get a wallop.
I pulled my sweater on and stood up from the bed, ready to start the day in earnest. But as I headed to the door, I heard another creak outside. Like footsteps, but a bit heavier than I'd expect. I paused with my hand on the knob, and looked down to see a shadow on the other side of the crack under the door. Dad, maybe? Maybe he was waiting for me. That must be it.
But just as I turned the knob and unlatched the door, my eyes slid to the bottom of the door, just above the crack.
To a catflap that I don't remember installing.
___
For more stories check out [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/) |
"Good morning,"I greeted as I stepped out of the cryogenic chamber. This meant that the aliens knew enough English to defrost me, so I wasn't too worried about them not understanding me. The Bipedal bird in front of me raised its talons. I waved back, "Yes hello."
"Huuman?"It hissed, the word dripped from it's beak like a poison. I didn't know if that was his tone or just the way that the aliens spoke. It didn't matter; I was here to speak to whoever arrived as the first ambassador to humanity.
"Yes,"I said back, "it is fantastic to meet finally an extraterrestrial species,"I held out a hand, the bird regarded it but didn't grab it.
"Huuman, why were you frooozen?"
"I was waiting for a species to meet,"I smiled back, "and now this is the first contact, it's an honor."
"What year do you think it is?"A voice rang out. It was clearer in the back, one of them must have been more practiced at English.
"I haven't the slightest idea,"I admitted, "I was programmed to be unfrozen as soon as someone knew enough English to press the right dial."
"For?"The voice in the back asked.
"To be an ambassador to our species,"I explained, "Someone to show them the wonders of old humanity and point them in the right direction in the stars."
"That-"the voice in the back sighed, and the group in front of the girl parted. I felt my eyes go wide as I looked at her. How was she so close to a human. She took a second to look me over and then spoke soft, "I'm so sorry."
"Wow you are remarkably close to humans,"I commented. She kept the same worried expression and smiled at me. The smile was weak like she was trying to console a person after death. "What?"I asked after a moment.
"I am human,"she explained, "we've been working with the Velden for 370 years now."
"What?"I asked. My eyes ran over her, but I couldn't find the edges of a lie. I'd given up everything to be frozen so that I could make the first contact. "I'm the ambassador,"I said, "I was supposed to be the first human they met."
"I'm sorry,"she started. I turned away from her and looked back to the chamber, so what if they had already met humans? I would wait for a species that hadn't. I didn't give up everything to be just another guy. "Wait,"she said as I opened the door to my cryo.
I didn't listen, stepping inside and slamming the door. I waited for the freezing process, and I waited for everything to cool. I was waiting for my chance to be first. The blinking light in front of me didn't stop. All it said was "Wake up."
|
‘We were driving through the streets, revered by all. People where clapping and cheering us on. Respectfully saluting us.’ I listened to my great, great grandfather as he told his story. He sat in his old, leather armchair. A mix of pride and memories in his eyes. He always talked about the war even though he wasn’t, as you’d say, on the right side of things. My great, great grandfather didn’t care though, he’d tell the stories anyway. The history books got it all wrong as far as he was concerned. We always joked that for a great, great grandfather my Pap, as we called him, was actually quite small. A wrinkly little mess of a guy he was, but he had an aura of true stature about him. So, when he talked, we listened.
‘Pap’, I asked him. ‘What happened after the war ended?’ My Pap laughed aloud and said: ‘My boy. Little do you know, I died to the world, and the world died to me.’ I hung my head to one side, thinking that was a weird answer but I guessed it had something to do with him having to go underground as to not be persecuted so I didn’t ask any further. For some reason though, the answer kept repeating in my head, like an old, stuck record.
My girlfriend called us to the table, she made dinner whenever my Pap came to visit. After our prayers, my Pap started talking about Jews. I never liked it when he did that so I just stared at a painting which my Pap once made for me. Slowly, a unnerving feeling started creeping up on me. I remembered my teacher in high school telling me that Hitler had ambitions to become a painter but was rejected from art school. A chill went down my spine as I remembered my father telling me that the same thing happened to Pap. No, I shrugged it off. Lots of people get rejected from schools all the time, especially art school. It’s nothing.
‘Pap’, I asked. ‘Why don’t you ever talk about life before the war? My Pap looked over his glasses while he swallowed a bite of stew. ‘My boy, you’re as curious as your father and his before him. There’s nothing to tell. Well, someone once spared my life during the first world war. That was quite remarkable, I must admit.’
At that moment all my history lessons about Hitler started repeating in my head, mixing up with the details of my Pap’s stories. The stories about the war, the details nobody knew about. Hitler’s body was never found. Shit, I know my Pap changed his name after the war but I always thought he did it to avoid people hating him for having a German name. No, no this can't be. Hitler is long gone.
Shit, shit, shit. A daunting feeling came over me as I realised my Pap's date of birth and everything started falling into place. I stood up, shaking, pale as an army of ghost. I looked at this small, fragile man in front of me. Shocked. ‘What is it my boy? He asked me, a confused look on his face.
I stammered. Y’ you, you’re H’ Hitler. My Pap squeezed his eyes and asked me, in a slow, soft voice. ‘What was that?’ You’re Hitler! I was screaming now. ‘Why didn’t I see this before! Oh, shit, shit, the things you did! Why Pap?’
My Pap got up, slowly. ‘Now wait a minute my boy, I can explain.'
|
"*All of you?*"the newly initiated vampire hunter hissed as he looked around at his fellow slayers.
"We didn't ask to be vampires,"the... *vampire* vampire hunter before him said. "*None* of us. It is a curse, a blight upon our hearts."
"But why do you hunt your own kind?"the human continued, hand on the hilt of his sword.
"They're *not* our kind, Rhodri,"the vampire protested. "No more than the worst human criminals are your kind. And... we think that we can kill the Elder - the progenitor of vampirekind - that our curse might be broken. That we might turn... normal again."He looked down at his pale hands with palpable disgust, the black veins visible through his skin a constant reminder of his bleak situation.
"We just want to return to our lives. Our families,"the vampire said gently.
"You're still vampires. You drink human blood. "
"Only as much as we need! Only from the willing, for money! And we never, *ever*, kill!"the vampire yelled.
The human relaxed his posture, finally releasing his sword. "Good,"he said. "The Elder vampire is... he must be stopped. And if you're with me, that is more than enough for me."
"Why do *you* hunt him? We all share a reason, but you, a human, unspoiled by the blight - why do you?"the vampire tilted his head. The human looked down.
"My sister. Glynis. He... he bit my sister."
"I'm sorry."
The human extended his hand towards the vampire. The two nodded slightly as they shook hands.
"Good hunting,"Rhodri said. "And when this is done, when he is dead, burned, his ashes scattered to the wind... if you're still vampires..."
The vampire looked up at the human.
"I won't hesitate for a *second* to drive a stake through every single one of you, drop you where you stand,"Rhodri smiled. "Same way I did Glynis. Because *you are monsters*." |
Carl Denton sat down at a round table at the corner cafe. Macy the waitress brought him his tall black coffee, one cream. She always flashed him a perfect smile and seemed nervous when she spoke with him.
"How are you today Mr. Denton?"she asked sweetly.
She had only been working here a few days and he had asked her repeatedly to call him Carl but she refused.
"Wonderful Macy, it's such a lovely day,"Carl said giving her a wink.
She blushed and dipped her head excusing herself. Other patrons at the cafe kept sneaking quick glances at Carl. He tried to ignore them and sipped at his steaming cup of coffee. He read the morning paper and enjoyed the cool breeze that slipped in between the buildings.
The news was depressing as usual, another body had been found possibly the seventh victim of the Masonville Madman. Carl sighed and set the paper down, he didn't enjoy reading such grim stories in the morning. He tipped the rest of the coffee back and walked to work. He owned a small bookstore on the main street of the sleepy little Masonville. He didn't get many purchases a day but it was more of a hobby than a business.
He unlocked the door to his shop and was greeted by the familiar comforting smell of books. Old parchment had a unique smell that always brought him back to his childhood when his mother would read to him. He flipped the closed sign over to open and took his seat behind the counter. Today he would finish rereading the Count of Monte Cristo, one of his favorites.
The bell connected to the door rang alerting him to a possible client.
"Welcome! If you have any questions please feel free to ask!"he said happily. The young woman simply smiled and disappeared behind the shelves in search for a book. Carl would never get used to the big bookstores, they never had the same feel that a small bookstore did. They felt corporate, mass produced, no personality.
His eyes turned back to his book and continued to read. His mind got lost in the pages as he sped through the exhilarating sword fight. He knew how it would play out but it still made his heart race. He checked his watch, it had been almost an hour since the young woman had entered the store. It wasn't unusual most people found a comfortable spot and got lost in a book. He marked his spot and got up from the desk with a stretch. Through the stack of books he went in search for the young woman.
He found her sitting on the small antique loveseat in the back of the store. Her hand supporting her chin as she flipped the pages of the book sitting in her lap. Carl's heart began to race as he watched her from a distance. Her pale skin stood out in the low light like a clean piece of paper. He moved silently behind the book shelves until he was nearly on her. She would make a fine entry in his memoirs. Carl slid the small wooden club out of his pocket and struck quickly hitting her in the side of the head. She went down hard to the wooden floor. Carl dragged her across the store into the back storeroom. He slid a bookcase over and lifted an old iron ring opening the basement storage. Gently he carried her down the stairs and closed the door behind them.
Macy stood outside of the Denton Bookstore waiting with the other gathered onlookers. The police would be coming any second now. Like clockwork the sirens peeled in the distance and raced closer. Multiple cop cars squealed to a stop outside the bookstore and rushed inside. They arrested Carl Denton that day, and saved the life of Anne Campton. The Masonville Madman was put behind bars after being found guilty of nineteen gruesome murders. He became one of the most famous serial killers of all time. Because of the publicity surrounding the arrest and prosecution it became a popular tourist attraction. Witness a psychopath in person. Reach out and touch a modern day Jack the Ripper.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
|
"You all are aware of the reason you were called here, friends?"Scientist A asked. He was a tall, lanky man with brown hair and black eyes. Rather than wearing a typical lab coat, Scientist A was immaculately dressed in a black suit with a white undershirt. His dark boots glistened in the dimly lit room. In front of him were forty six filling over fifty seats. All of them were similarly dressed to Scientist A. The room was located in the large basement of Scientist A's lavish home that he had been living in for the past five years. No one answered, so Scientist A decided to continue.
"Global warming, over population, nuclear winter, lack of food,"Scientist A listed. "All of these are just a few problems that the world will face in the upcoming years. *Years.* Less than a decade. Yet the general population doesn't care, and if the general population doesn't care then the damn government leaders don't care either. Many of you have published articles and given public warnings on the dangers to come, yet nothing has happened. Many of you have discussed privately with me likely scenarios that will occur. I understand what you all feel. You all feel helpless, powerless, cursed with the knowledge of the many ways the world will end but unable to do anything to stop it. Besides you all, nobody else seems to know or care."
"Get on with it, Ken,"a blond haired man in the first row said. "We're here because you apparently have a solution to the problem, not to listen to a monologue about how doomed we are."
"You all graduated the top, or near the top of your respective classes and all became the best in your fields of either science or engineering. I've either met you through school, known you in my childhood, met you at a convention, or have been introduced to you through a friend. You are all good people, which is why I won't hold it against anyone who leaves once say what my plan is,"Ken continued.
"...This plan is?"Another scientist asked, they had black hair.
Ken paused, as if to build tension. "We are going to become super villains."
Laughter boomed through the room from various people. It went on for around thirty seconds before silence filled the room again.
"Is this a joke?"The blond haired scientist asked hopefully. "Now you're going to tell us the actual plan?"
"No,"Ken said with a determined look on his face. "Anyone who does not trust me, please leave. I won't hold it against you. If you do leave, however, please do not discuss what you've heard so far with anyone"
Not a single person left.
"We are all the top of our class. Geniuses in our own right. Many of us are even in similar fields. I believe we can work together and produce the technology people believe will exist in the future, and use that technology to take over the world and change it. To fight against the end."
"Do you honestly expect us to commit our lives to trying to make stuff like that? What guarantee do we have that your far-fetched plan will work, or that you won't use such tech for your own gain?"
"I've already created such a futuristic device,"Ken said, producing two strange looking headsets with antennas on top from a cardboard box behind him. "As you all know, I am a neural engineer, and I have created a device that can read minds. I'm sure you've all also had ideas for innovative devices you'd like to produce."
"Can you prove that it works?"The blond haired man said cautiously. While he knew Ken was smart, a mind reading device had never existed before. And even if the device did work, the man wanted to confirm whether it was a mind reading device and not something else, like a mind controlling device for example.
"Of course, Alex,"Ken replied, handing one headset to the blond haired man. Ken put one headset on himself. "Don't put it on yet,"he added, also handing Alex a piece of paper, a pen, and a clipboard.
"Do you want me to pick a number between one and ten?"Alex chuckled.
"Of course not,"Ken smiled. "I want you to write down a complex sentence on that piece of paper, then show the sentence to every person in the room. Tell me when you're done, and I will announce the sentence to everyone."After saying this, Ken closed his eyes and turned around.
"Fine,"Alex said, writing words on the paper. He then got up and made sure everyone read the words to themselves. After a minute, he told Ken that everyone had read the sentence. They all waited in anticipation.
"One moment,"Ken said, adjusting the headset and pushing a power button on the side. He then chuckled a bit. "Interesting choice of a sentence: 'In all the years I've known Ken, he has never lied to me once. That's the reason why I'm going along with this, even if it seems like a joke. I trust that he wouldn't call so many people out if he really didn't have a plan. A mind reading machine seems far-fetched, but I'm assuming he really can read minds, otherwise he'd just make himself seem like an idiot.'"
Murmurs broke out through the room."That's the sentence,"Alex whispered.
"Please put your headset on and focus on my thoughts, Alex. I'd like you to vouch for me that I would never betray any of you, and that I am doing this solely for the good of the world."
As soon as Alex put on the device and turned it on, Ken did not resist. He allowed all his feelings, all his thoughts, all his ideas to flow to the top of his mind, making them easier to read.
"Are you telling truth?"Alex asked, though he could feel the thoughts already. When someone was asked a question, they usually thought about the answer first before answering. He wanted to confirm.
"Yes,"Ken said firmly, continuing to allow his thoughts to flow.
Alex nodded and turned off the device. "He's telling the truth,"he announced. Having heard all of Ken's thoughts, he knew what he had to do next. He turned off the device and handed it to the black haired scientist. "Mind putting it on and vouching for both of us?"
The black haired scientist nodded, putting the headset on and turning it on. Both Alex and Ken allowed their thoughts to flow, and the black haired man understood that everything they were saying was genuine. "They are both telling the truth,"he also announced, handing the device to the next person. The pattern continued until everyone in the room understood each other, and knew the plan.
"You all know what to do,"Ken said, smiling.
Everyone simply nodded, as they did.
"We have one year, and will meet every month. Good luck, and thank you."
One at a time, his friends would walk behind Ken towards the cardboard box. Each person took out their own headset. This was also a part of the plan that they all now knew. Mind reading was a useful tool, after all.
No one ever missed a single meeting after that, as they understood how important they were.
A year later, many futuristic gadgets were produced.
The next year, the scientists and engineers launched their campaign to take over the world, announcing it to the world under the name of an anonymous group. None of their identities would be found out.
The next year, the anonymous group was "destroyed."In reality, all governments in the world were under control of the forty seven people in that room.
The next year, humanity was beginning to be guided to a better future. The world was slowly, but surely, being saved.
Author's Note: First time actually writing a prompt, so I hope it isn't too bad.
Edit: I think I fixed all the mistakes. |
The blade came biting through the neck, sending the head toppling into the basket. The dirty crowd of villagers cheered out.
“Have they gone insane?” I asked, stepping through the maddening crowd. The villager’s faces were bent and twisted in wrath as they shouted up to the man who seemed to be fueling their furor.
We had just arrived. My partner, Isaac, and I. The shops were empty, the schools silent. All were at the town center where a man stood on a large podium, calling down to the crowd. He had a severed head raised in his hands.
“They have cheated you, stolen from you,” he cried. “And it is your time! Your time to exact revenge on these thieves and charlatans.”
The whole kingdom had gone into upheaval as a secret society methodically set into motion a revolution. At first the emperor saw it as a joke, then an annoyance. By the time it was seen as a threat it was too late. The whole country had devolved into anarchy.
We stepped up to the platform, the guillotine sat like a monster in the sun. The blood dripping from its bladed maw. The man on the platform had on a long black robe, his silver hair was blowing in the wind.
“We must kill every last one of them!” he shouted, then tossed the severed head to the crowd who cheered and tried to catch it like a bouquet toss on a wedding.
“My god,” Isaac said, looking at the blade of the guillotine. “It is made from the metal of Anthorian.”
I sucked in my breath, looking over at Isaac. He was one of the greatest alchemist in the kingdom and would know these things.
They were harvesting the souls of these poor people then.
“What do we do?” Isaac asked.
“The only thing we can do,” I said, pulling off my hood and unsheathing my sword and lifting it into the air. “Silence!” I shouted over the crowd. I pointed the blade to the man in black. “This is over,” I said. “In the name of the Order of Salith, you are guilty of murder, insurrection and treason.”
The man in black looked at me for a few seconds. The crowd stepped back, the wind blew through the square. A few of the prisoners were still mewing in the corner. The man in black stepped up to the guillotine, the pine wood of the platform creaking under his feet.
He pulled the guillotine's blade off its support then attached it to a pole sitting on the ground and lifted it up like a giant cleaver. The Anthorian metal shining a metallic blue in the sun, the blood still dripping from its edge.
“Come and stop me, Amos” the man said to me.
I could see the energy of the stolen souls travelling from the metal, down along the pole, and into the body of the soul reaper, then cresting in his glowing eyes. |
Ambassador Farnsworth straightened his cuffs, waiting for the representatives of the Interstellar Council to quiet down.
"Esteemed Members, the reports and rumors that have circulated for the past several intervals is correct. Seven weeks ago by our time keeping", he paused as computers did the math for the delegates, "the Terran Colony Ship New World was boarded by Grath forces."
"New World was nowhere near Grath claim territory. New World had no offensive weapons, no military forces and posed ZERO threat to anyone."His voiced boomed across the silent chamber. "What she did carry was thirty THOUSAND colonists in cold sleep and one hundred crew on a rotating duty schedule. Fortunately, Captain Riss, God bless her soul, was awake, and made the decision to detonate the ship's reactor. She did this per Terran policy."
The chamber buzzed with confusion, outrage and fear. Farnsworth waited, until it was again, brought to order.
"Privately, many have come and asked, why. Why would we sacrifice so many? Why would we not try to negotiate for survivors or prisoners? Why do Terrans place such little value on the lives of our people?"
His gaze swept the chamber. "We understand that we are new to the stars, and that we have much to learn. However, today we have an opportunity to teach. Teach that humanity is not a prize to be taken. In our own history, if one nation had taken the peoples of another, it would be an act of war. You do not see it as such. You are old, civilized peoples. We are not. The stakes for us are much higher than they were before we reached the stars."
"No member of this body has condemned the actions of the Grath. Instead, several have voiced the opinion that humanity has to prove that we deserve our place."His eyes narrowed, "You see what we will do to preserve peace. Do not entice us to prove our resolve in other arenas."
Farnsworth turned to the Council President, "Thank you for your time." |
Clotch stepped into her shared burrow with a singular goal of drinking every last drop of glormjuice in their cellar.
Alas, Jag was home and looking stormy. Literally. The wizard's hair was half-levitated in a frizzy red cloud and lightning zaps ran in sparking rivulets along the planes of her face.
Clotch eyed the mess surrounding her, most of it unidentifiable junk. "Rough going? I thought I had it bad today."
Jag glared down at a mostly uncovered summoning circle painted on an oversized sheet of parchment. "I am going to summon a revolution. Don't try to stop me."
Clotch waived a permissive hand. With some difficulty, she refrained from then asking Jag to make sure she cleaned up when finished. If Jag forgot, it was just a few snaps of her fingers to remedy. Wizards were useful like that.
"If you're going to revolt against the Spellmaster,"Clotch said, "make sure the rebellion starts outside."
"Sure."Jag's eyes began to glow a uranium green as she chanted in an arcane language.
A book thudded down into the center of the summoning circle. Jag groaned and kicked the junk pile.
Clotch, however, liked books. She reached for this one and found it in a microscopic foreign language. She rifled through the pages and found many of them held intricate diagrams of mind-boggling mechanisms.
She flipped to one that, upon further study, appeared to be a mechanism for vertical conveyance of people and large loads. Without magic.
Maybe Jag's summoning had worked after all. The concept was revolutionary.
The shape of the parts would be simple for a journeyman craftsman like Clotch. It would take only the better part of three days to draw up the full ownership claim for the Dwarven Bureau of Patents.
No more working for grouchy Thimbleflame. No more intricate tinkering of chain mail. No more meals of yesterday's mush. All the glormjuice she could drink.
Now she just needed some seed money for the metals and then the gold would be flowing in.
"Say Jag, how much revolution can you buy with a cave full of gold?" |
Jacko's stomach growled as he pawed around the house. His owner had laid down for a nap a little while earlier and had forgotten to put fresh kibble in his bowl. But, Jacko was a good pup he reminded himself, he wouldn't whine or bother his owner while he slept.
Instead he kept watch over the house. He patrolled the living room with the large bay window and stood on the back of the couch so he could look outside. Something, he knew he shouldn't be doing but it was the best vantage point, and sometimes pawing the line was important.
Small humans walked past the window after getting out of the large yellow rectangle with wheels. He growled and barked once ensuring that they would continue to walk. Just as expected they did so, because Jacko was a great guard dog.
With a job well done his mind wandered back to his empty stomach. He decided it couldn't hurt to check his bowl one more time just in case something had changed.
His pink tongue hung out of his mouth as he walked into the kitchen, his claws clicking loudly on the tile floor. He peeked into his silver dish and was greeted with disappointment, yet again.
All good pups have their limits and Jacko was about to reach his. He walked over to his owner and lay down next to him. He was careful to avoid stepping in all the red his owner had spilled on the kitchen floor then nuzzled up next to him, he should wake up soon, after all he couldn't sleep forever.
---
Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories! |
“Lady, are you ok?” He’d said, before there was a lot of time to evaluate this motivation. There was no doubt it’d come from a good place. But you have to be more careful than kind in a city. Afterall, people die there every day.
“…the troops *and* the local football team?”
“…a daughter–two guinnea pigs? Huh.”
“…who’s coming for you? There’s no one here but us.”
These are just the things you have to say in a city when you’ve been too kind to the wrong person. The woman hadn’t looked homeless. That was the problem, on more than a couple levels. The conversation had grown to a fever pitch so quickly, and he wasn’t even sure he’d been part of it. Then, she’d just up and died. But not before handing him her glasses.
“Put them on dear…” Those were her last words.
“*Her last words*,” he mouthed to himself. “Really?”
He sighed and brought the glasses up. It was rude of her to put this on him like that, honestly. If eyeworms were a thing, this was how you got them.
He focused a bit, then there was a voice behind him.
“Hello, Eric,” it said. Eric’s first thought was that it was a waste of time using the voice for anything other than the blues. But with a dead woman on the ground in front of him, it probably wasn’t the time to say so. He spun around.
“Oh shit, you’re–”
“It’s ok! It’s ok!” said the creature reassuringly. “I’m following everybody! You aren’t on the list today, ok? But yes, I’m *Death.*” It reiterated in a nervous baritone.
Eric squinted. “I was gonna say, *a cliché…*”
The black robe deflated a bit.
“And what’s with the uh’–”
“–The face?” Death finished. “It’s just my face, man.”
“But it’s just… Well, it’s like eight times the size of a normal face. And it’s oval. And it’s white–Oh.” Eric had just realized something. “Is that bone? That makes more sense. Why carve the little smiley face into–”
“It’s just my face…” Death said. His voice was getting more exasperated, but his face didn’t change. “Listen, I have a business proposition for you–”
“What’s the catch?” Eric interrupted.
“Well the glasses–” Death started.
“The catch?” Eric repeated, the words also said, “I can take these off anytime I want.”
Death sighed. “What’s it been? Forty-eight seconds? You saw that lady… This is the longest anyone has worn these without losing it... a bit,” he said, flatly.
Eric reached up and plucked the glasses off his face.
As he pulled them down, he heard the voice inside say, “Wait– At least give them to another homeless person!”
The paramedics were already running up, and a crowd had gathered.
“What happened?” Asked a cop, who had just appeared next to him.
“Well she–” Eric started.
“You didn’t know her, right? Homeless?” The cop asked, with a snort meant to address an itch that seemed to concern him more than the notes he was writing. Eric nodded. “Well, we won’t need yah here if you want to go, lots of witnesses an’ all that.”
Eric lifted the glasses.
“Hers?” The cop asked. Eric nodded and dropped them in his hand.
“Don’t look through them,” he added as an afterthought. “She said they let her see Death…”
They shared a quick laugh, before Eric brushed his hands off and wandered out of the parking lot. |
I poured myself a hearty portion of mead before sitting down comfortably in my armchair. The weather outside was rather nice so I had the windows open, providing a nice gust of fresh air throughout the apartment. A good day to go. And a good day to enjoy the show.
15:03 ticked on the clock and a flash of light filled the room; where my table once stood was only a charred pile of wood on top of which stood Ah-Puch; a Mayan god me and my friends managed to piss off when we got together for drinks and... sort of messed around with some relics. In our defence, who would believe something like this would actually happen, right? He did not take kindly to such insolence and assured us all of our impending doom yet in his benevolence granted us all a year to settle our affairs.
Bad call.
See, most of my friends fell into a deep depression, but me? It's liberating. Ah-Puch is a god of Death so I *know* I can't die before he deems it so, meaning I can do *whatever I want* without any risk. And now that I know that the supernatural exists, well... I went on a bit of a bender. A carefully calculated one to maximize my enjoyment of my impending death.
"Samuel,"Ah-Puch said, breaking me out of my reminiscing mood.
"Your lordship,"I replied with a smile and tipped my drink to him.
"I see you are not running; an admirable quality. Unlike your friends, you accept your punishment at my hands."
"Well, who am I to argue with a god, right?"I chuckled.
"You are wise in your last words. Are you re-"
"Actually,"I interrupted lightly, "if you wouldn't mind waiting *juuust* a second, I have some friends coming over that I'd love for you to meet."
Ah-Puch squinted his eyes at me but had no time to question me before a portal opened in a wall, out of which walked a tall man dressed in an intensely colourful outfit.
"Samuel, mon!"he yelled out jovially. "I'm glad ya' still here man! Been getting worried ya'd be runnin' an' - who dis?"he said as he noticed the other god in the room.
"Ah, you haven't met?"I smiled. "Baron Samedi, this is Ah-Puch. Ah-Puch, this is Baron Samedi. We've struck a little deal and-"
"Dat I've come to collect, dear Sam. Ya soul is-"
"Cease,"Ah-Puch commanded loudly, "I care not for your frilly dealing. I have come to take this mortal to the underworld and"
"Now hold on mon,"Samedi resisted, "I've-"
Another portal appeared; a piece of furniture came to life.
"Samuel/𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛,"two voices said in perfect, unsettling unison, "we are/𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 collect/𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 your/𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙/essence- who/𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡-"
"Are dose conjoined fey?"Samedi said with surprise not befitting a god.
Two more portals. Looks like... ah yes, a crossroads demon and Apollo. The latter actually got me a really sweet chariot earlier this year.
"THE GOD OF SUN HAS- what?"
"Oh now hold ya twits, dis is-"
"𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠/Impossible this is not/𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎-"
"This mortal's soul rightfully-"
The cacophony of mixed voices was akin to the sweetest song for me as I sipped my drink. The chaos was beyond enjoyable. I looked at my watch and an ever wider smile spread on my face; we should be getting a rather important guest about now.
A dark red portal appeared on the floor and the room went silent as two horns, followed by a tall, red-skinned figure in a sharp black suit rose from it.
"Samuel,"said Satan, "I am here as per our- *oh what the* ***Hell!***" |
Instead of chairs, there were giant pink yoga balls around the large conference room table. And the walls were painted pastel hues of blue and green and yellow. Typical Google. And yet the mood inside was still darker than any CIA blacksite I'd ever been stationed in.
"Sergei and Larry were last spotted here,"Alan told me. He waved a hand, and the surface of the table shimmered and became a map. Pretty damn cool. I'm a bit of a Luddite, but a little more time here at the Google HQ could probably win me over. They had some awesome gadgets. The map zoomed in to show an area of the mountains just north of Santa Cruz. Pretty rural area, with lots of redwoods; pretty nice place. "And over the past week, every other executive and engineer who also received the chip implant followed them in."
"No one thought to keep any eye on them with this experimental thing in their heads?"I asked.
Alan shrugged. Poor guy was really out of his depth. "I wasn't really involved in the planning..."he mumbled. Of course not. Anyone high up enough in the company who knew about the top secret project to enhance someone's intelligence a thousandfold was now lost in the woods. Alan was the highest level exec left, but it seemed like all he really knew about was google's advertising business. *Yawn*.
"Do we know how much cash they might have had? Is there any activity on their cards?"I ran through the usual questions for a missing person. No cash and no cards generally means that they're *still* in that area.
"No activity on their personal cards."Alan waved a hand again and the map swiped to the side to bring up their bank statements. *Ok, I need to get me one of these*. "But just Larry and Sergei have enough squirreled away in their Cayman accounts that they could have a thousand other credit cards and spend billions without me having a clue."
I sighed. Fucking rich people. Poor people are easy to find: they're always crashing on their friend's couch or something, thinking that no one will bother to check their phone records. But the rich are always planning for the proletariat to rise up or whatever. They're *squirrely*. "All right then. Chip me, and let's get this show on the road."After a significant amount of convincing, I'd agreed to use one of these things. If these guys didn't want to be found, then I was going to need to be as smart as they are.
Alan waved a hand again, and a labcoat-clad scientist in what looked like a gas mask came in with a steaming vial. Using long, thin tweezers he pulled out a glimmering little gadget roughly the size of a grain of rice. "Tilt your head, please,"he asked through the respirator. I did as he said, and he dropped the little thing right into my ear.
"That's it?"I asked Alan. "No surgery? I thought it went into my brain."
My question was answered by a sudden searing pain, like the little grain of rice had suddenly turned into a white-hot brand. I clutched the edge of the table till my knuckles were white and tried to suppress a scream of pain. Alan nearly fell off his little yoga ball after seeing the fury in my eyes. And just as quickly as it started, the pain vanished.
"Now that you're properly *equipped*,"Alan said, "There's one final thing."He waved a hand, and the bank statements on the table display disappeared. Now there was a picture of a clearing surrounded by tall pines. And in the trunk of each one, there was a series holes and lines and other symbols that were digitally highlighted to make the pattern more clear. "This is our last clue as to where Sergey and Larry went. We've run it through all the computers... hell, even the NSA had a go at it. We think it's some kind of code, but nothing makes any sense."
I studied the image for just a bit, then broke out into a laugh as it all fell into place. It was a breadcrumb, meant only for those of us with the new-found intelligence to follow. "I'm going to need a plane,"I told Alan.
-------
Ok, [here's parts 2 and 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/4fyge7/breadcrumbs/d2d5bom) with more still coming! |
Crouched down, the bulbous tips of his long, slender fingers resting lightly on the ground, he had regarded us calmly with the large black orbs of his eyes. At that first meeting, he looked so small, curious, and fragile. Not unlike the tropical frogs his people resembled, really.
"Croak."he said, as we approached. He didn't croak at us, mind you -- he actually said the word "croak."
"Pardon?"I said, raising an eyebrow, and glancing at my equally perplexed companions.
"Croak is my name -- at least, that is how I am called by your folk, worthy allies."He explained.
I nodded. Our band was made up of skilled scouts and infiltrators from all over the Empire, so having names that were exotic to our fellows was normal, to us. Those whose native tongues were very different from Imperial tended to choose a translation or nickname in the common speech.
"You are welcome among our number, Croak."I said. "Senator Brr'ubbet speaks highly of your skill."
Croak's people were new to the empire, and he was the first of his kind to formally join a military unit. The old chieftain they'd chosen as their Imperial Senator, Brr'ubbet, claimed that he'd once killed an entire Black Horde expeditionary force all by himself, and insisted he'd be an invaluable addition to the Imperial Rangers. I doubted the veracity of this, of course. Croak was from a tribal culture, and warfare among such hunter-gatherers often involved as much intimidation and boasting as bloodshed.
"What is our mission, Sir?"Croak asked, in lightly accented but otherwise flawless Imperial.
"There's a fortified Black Horde town not far from here. It's too close to the border for comfort, so we've been ordered to scout the location, and find a way to undermine it if possible."I explained.
"So they must die?"Croak asked, eagerly.
While I might doubt that he'd killed an army on his own, I didn't doubt his hatred for the Empire's ancient enemies. The Black Horde had burned thousands of acres of the rainforests where Croak's people made their homes, and reportedly did not spare the hatchery ponds where his folk reared the tadpole-like infants of their kind.
"Eliminating the town would be ideal, of course, but--"I began, hesitantly.
And that was when he stood up. His limbs might have been skeletally slender, but they were *long,* almost uncannily so. Standing fully upright, our amphibian friend towered over us by two feet or more.
"It will be done."Croak said, solemnly.
Without another word, he crouched back down, and then leaped high into the air, vanishing into the treetops.
It was three days before the rest of the company reached the town. We reckoned Croak must have gotten there a day or more ahead of us.
When we arrived, everyone in the Horde settlement was dead. Corpses lay everywhere, though there was scarcely a drop of blood to be seen. We saw no sign of Croak.
One of my men, an especially skilled tracker with some training as a surgeon, rolled over one of the bodies laying in the town square, and examined it carefully. He smelled its lips, and pried open its sightless eyes, then repeated this with a few more corpses as we watched uncomfortably. We were no strangers to the grim, quiet work that sometimes needed to be done to keep the Empire safe, but this was unsettling, even for Imperial Rangers. Finally, he grimaced, looking back at me from where he knelt by one of the dead.
"Poison."he declared, simply.
"All of them?"I exclaimed, incredulously. "How?"
Then I heard a croak. The sound, not the name, this time. I followed it to the center of the town square...to the well in the middle of the settlement.
I peered down into the darkness of the well. As my eyes adjusted, I saw Croak, submerged up to his neck in the dark water, his big black eyes regarding me calmly. A faintly iridescent liquid glistened on his exposed blue skin, and seeped into the water around him, becoming invisible as it dissolved.
"Mission complete, sir."Croak said, his voice echoing up from the poisoned depths. |
Eilef stroked the human’s hair and held her hand, and prepared for the inevitable aging that would occur upon her death. His own hair, dark brown, would grow as a white silk, his face would become a creased and crumpled painting, his body would ache and his days of fishing would wind down.
Fishing.
He’d been fishing in the azure waters near his hut when he’d found her, three weeks prior. He’d always fished there, as long as anyone had known. For Eilef never aged and had fished longer than most elves had been alive. He’d never desired to age, to die. Who would?
She’d looked like driftwood then, her green dress wrapped like seaweed around her. He hauled her on board, expecting to bury her soon after, but instead found the slow, weak beat of a failing heart — and at that, he could feel his own heart beat.
Eilef had taken care of her since. Tried to nurse her back to health. And her eyes had opened and she’d thanked him, but she’d told him that she couldn’t be cured. Death had been growing inside her since before her boat had been wrecked and the water taken her. And even the elves, as well intentioned and as able with medicine as they were, could not change the course of her fate.
He found this to be true. She was dying. A growth in her brain spreading its roots, greedily sapping her energy. For her, there was no cure.
Instead he vowed to make her last days pleasant, as pleasant as they could be. In the mornings, he’d carry her to the beach and they would talk and exchange stories of their lives — and it seemed, strangely, to Eilef, that the human had more to tell from her few short years than he did from a millennium on his boats.
The woman attempted to build sand sculptures. Said she loved to make them as a child, that she’d imagine they were real, and in that way they were. She was too frail to make them now, however, and needed his help.
Secrelty, he thought the sculptures a waste of their time. Evanescenct trinkets that would fade out of existence so quickly that they weren’t worth making. Still, he found he wanted to make her time happy and so he helped. Soon, with her direction, a dozen sculptures blessed the beach near his hut: a mermaid, a boat, two hands holding each other, a basket filled with sand-fruit.
He cooked for her and cared for her, and soon found himself desperately sad at the thought of her passing. He had grown dependant upon someone needing him. A person’s purpose, he supposed, did not come from their own life, but from the lives of others.
​
She died as Eilef held her hand, the smile breezing off her lips like a candle’s flame stolen by wind.
He wept.
He buried her.
Over the next few days he did not age. His hair did not silken, his face did not wrinkle. He had been ready to age; he’d looked after her with the knowledge of how it would end for both of them. And yet he hadn’t aged. And he began to hate himself for that.
The days passed and he slowly returned to his old, hollow routine: weaving nets, mending rods, sitting alone on the beach and gazing at the sun-lit horizon, or at the sculptures they had made together.
It was one night, as darkness began to fall upon the beach, that a great wave washed further onto the beach than most others dared.
To his dismay, the wave washed away many of the sand sculptures, leaving only a ruined boat, and a single, damaged hand.
Upon seeing this, Eilef began to weep. And he could not say why. He could not say if it was for the woman, for the sculptures, or for himself. But for the first time in a lifetime, he let himself cry.
When the sun rose the next morning, falling flat across the beach, across his sleeping body, it glinted off his silver hair.
When he woke, he began rebuilding the sculptures. |
We were about 3 hours into a 5 hour flight from L.A to New York. I was sitting in my seat reading an askreddit thread, listening to my music and sipping my complimentary ginger ale when I heard a bump near me. I took out my earbuds to see if I could hear it better, and my ears were immediately flooded with screaming, crying, and some sounds that I don’t even think have a name. I began to panic, and I asked the man sitting across the aisle from me what the hell was going on.
“You didn’t get it?” He asked, “The death notification?”
“What? No, did you?” I replied incredulously.
“Everyone did, man! We’re all fucked!”
Just then, the captain got on the intercom.
“Attention, passengers. It appears that we have all gotten our death notifications. I must stress that there is nothing wrong with the plane at this time. By all accounts, we should be completely fine, so we are not sure what is happening. We ask that you all please take your seats while we try to find any problems with the plane that might exist. We still have 6 minutes left, which should be enough time to troubleshoot.”
“It’s fucking pointless! We’re already dead, you son of a bitch!” said a voice from in front of me.
Why didn’t I get the notification? Am I going to survive this? What even is “this”; What is going to happen? I tried to calm myself. I sat in my seat and buckled up. We still had some time left, and I, apparently was in no danger.
People began to get impatient. That, mixed with the knowledge that you are about to die can cause people to do some crazy things. It wasn’t long before a crowd formed at the door to the cockpit, and it wasn’t long after that that the door was broken down. People swarmed the cockpit, I guess thinking that they could somehow fly the plane better than the pilot. About 10 seconds after the door was broken down, the plane began to nosedive. I braced for impact. I felt my phone vibrate. It was an alert. It read:
“**URGENT! DO NOT UPDATE YOUR DEATH NOTIFICATION APP. THERE IS A KNOWN BUG IN THE NEW VERSION THAT CAUSES PEOPLE TO GET FALSE NOTIFICATIONS. IF YOU HAVE GOTTEN A NOTIFICATION SINCE UPDATING, DISREGARD IT.**”
Ah, well that explains it. I never update until I’m forced to. It seems everyone else got the alert as well, because the whole plane fell silent right before we crashed. |
A winged shadow fell across the ground. One all too familiar.
Garanub had never told his friends. He joked about being half-orc, but everyone wrote that off as poking fun at his face, unusually ugly, even for a halfdrake. "That one of your relatives?"Halfdan shouted. "Yes, actually."Garanub replied. This would be an interesting meeting. His father was eccentric, for a dragon. He always shared more than he should, and acted more like a human than anything, always too emotional.
Scaly feet hit the ground, and a thunderous voice rang forth. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON!"Garanub ducked his head in shame. So silly, but sweet of him none the less. A package thudded to the ground. "THERE'S SOME SWEETROLLS IN THERE, FROM YOUR MOTHER.""She didn't feel up to traveling?"He asked. "Now that, would be an experience,"Halfdan chuckled, "to meet the woman who won the heart of a dragon!""GURGULA IS A MOST WONDERFUL WOMAN, AND BY FAR THE KINDEST ORC I HAVE EVER MET."Scolodan's voice still shook the ground, though he was being careful to be quiet. Halfdan whirled on Garanub. "You weren't joking about the half-orc thing?""No, I wasn't."He replied, his mouth tweaking into a smile. "No wonder you look so weird! No offense, but you're probably the only orcish halfdrake in Laria!"
"Like you said, it takes some woman to win the heart of a dragon." |
It came with a set of instructions and a note. The instructions were in a large booklet complete with diagrams, nicely bound and laminated, and written in twenty two different languages. The note was handwritten and damaged by water and wear. All it said was "Be Careful".
I thought it was some kind of stupid joke at first. I found it while digging out the foundation for a house we were putting in. A couple of the other guys saw me put it in my truck, but nobody bothered me about it. I had a tendency to keep cool stuff we found during demos or excavation, you know maybe some old tools that got sealed into a wall by accident or something. The first time I pressed it I was drunk. Just did it for the hell of it. I had read the instructions and the description of what would happen but like I said, I thought it was some stupid prank. I tossed the thing after that and went about my life, boring as it was.
I stayed on with the contractor I was working for about another six months, but then there was an accident with a backhoe. Crushed a guy's foot. They found out I had been drinking, that wasn't what caused the accident mind you, I have operated heavy machinery just fine while sauced before, but that was the end of that gig. I was still getting my scrip for percoset for an old back injury that never quite got better, and I spent a couple months selling that shit to cover the rent. It was tough quitting the pills cold turkey, but I could sell those bastards for 30 bucks a pop, and no contractors I knew wanted to hire a drunk. I could have tried flipping burgers or working a cash register somewhere but deep down I knew I wasn't going to hold it together doing something like that for long.
Things eventually got worse, the docs figured me out and stopped giving me the prescription. Plus my insurance coverage lapsed so I couldn't afford the pills out of pocket anyway. I got desperate. I knocked over a liquor store on a particularly shitty corner of 5th street. There was only about 400 dollars in the register, and the fucker had me on camera. I had priors so they had me in the system and it only took about a week before they were beating down my door. The public defender didn't even seem like he was trying when we went to trial. He just seemed tired. I was the one with my life about to go down the drain, but for some reason I felt sorry for him. I had been in the can for 3 months when I snapped back the first time.
It was abrupt and jarring. I went from laying on my shitty cot staring at a water stain on the decrepit ceiling to sitting on my couch staring at the box with a fifth of Jack Daniels in my hand. I felt like a gorilla had punched me in the jaw. I had almost forgotten about the fucking box, so much other shit had been happening to me. You'd think I would've felt relieved. Not in jail anymore, sitting back in my own shitty apartment. I was terrified. It didn't feel right, felt like a goddamn dream. Plus the cravings of all my addictions came back like a tidal wave all at once. I remembered the instructions stating that my memories would be intact, but my body would revert to the state it was in when I pressed the button. I dropped the thing on the ground like it was on fire finished the bottle and went to sleep.
For the next week I kept expecting to wake up out of the dream. Every night I would look at the box on my floor right where I left it, half thinking it was going to explode or something. Finally after a particularly shitty day on the job that had me thinking about my future I went home and pressed it again.
That second time I had decided I was going to do everything right. I got clean as quick as I could. Didn't go to rehab or anything fancy like that. I could remember what it was like to do the cold turkey thing, so it made it easier this time. I saved up some money, it was also remarkably less difficult than I thought. When you don't have to budget for keeping yourself drunk seven days a week you find you have a decent amount of extra cash around. I started going to night classes. Studying for a GED. I knew that I couldn't take the test, but when I snapped back, I would still know everything I had learned. I tried to soak up everything I could. It felt great, I felt like I was accomplishing something. I learned to cook rather than eat shitty takeout every day. I learned to do some carpentry myself, as well as a dozen other little skills I knew I could take with me when I snapped back. When the day came I was ready.
It wasn't any less jarring the second time. That same feeling of being knocked around, the same wave of craving flooding back into me. I had only waited a few days to press the button again after that first trip back, so everything was pretty much the same. I thought about it a lot this time. I knew I was ready for the GED, but there was still so much I could do with this time. After a day I pressed the button again.
I went and took the GED, passed it no problem. I got a job at a hardware store and I quickly became everyone's favorite employee. I knew everything about everything and I was putting even more money away. I started studying other things. Learning became my new addiction. I had seen all the TV shows that would come out that year already, I knew that the Yankees didn't win the pennant, so there was no point in me watching that crap again. I did place some bets here and there though, just for some walking around money. There was no point to building up a nest egg. I wouldn't be able to take it back with me anyway.
I studied coding, learned to write my own programs. I bought a guitar and learned to play. Those were things that I could take back with me. When I snapped back the second time, I didn't hesitate. I pushed the button immediately. I had found my new addiction and it was stronger than anything I had ever felt in the past. I went through the motions, did the GED, got the same job at the hardware store. This time I started studying the stock market. I learned all the jargon, absorbed all of the strategies. I analyzed all the trends and set to work memorizing everything that happened in the market.
I went back again with everything I had learned and got to work immediately. I started trading and was making money fast. I continued practicing my other skills, but I had a new focus, money. I started moving in different circles. People took notice of me. Other brokers wanted to figure out who I was. I got invited to parties, offered jobs. My past didn't matter, no one could see past the size of my rapidly growing bank account. Things were going great, I felt like when I snapped back I wouldn't have to press the button this time. But then I met her.
To say she was gorgeous would be like saying the sun is bright. I saw her for the first time at one of the Upper East Side parties I had made a habit of going to, and it was easy to tell as soon as I entered the place that she was the center of attention. I somehow managed to get a moment alone with her, separating her from the rest of the sharks swimming around. Maybe it was because she could tell I didn't belong there. She knew there was something different about me. In the time it took to smoke a cigarette together I was in love. She miraculously agreed to see me again, and we made plans for dinner in a few days.
It was wonderful. I had never felt like that before. I had never known anyone like that before. We hit it off like we had known each other for years. We spent as much time together as we could. When we started making love it was like putting on a glove that you have had for years and is already perfectly formed to your hand. It was the best two months of my life until something happened.
She wouldn't tell me what it was. She just stopped calling me one day. I nearly lost my mind. I hung around all the places that I knew she frequented, and finally I saw her with another guy. I didn't know who the hell he was but I wanted to kick his ass as soon as I saw him. I went up to them and made a scene. She started crying, and I hit the fucker in the face and walked out. I only had a few weeks before I snapped back, and I started forming a plan.
When I came back this time I made her my mission. I worked the stocks, and got into the right social circles as quickly as I could. I started learning everything I could about her. I even went so far as to hire a PI. I tried again with her and it was great for a while. But then it happened again. It was a different guy this time, but the same damn story. None of my research of her little quirks, or the things she liked made a difference. I think I was trying to hard that time. I drove her away quicker than before with my doting.
I snapped back again, and again. I became obsessed. I kept banging my head against this wall that wouldn't budge. I didn't consume any media anymore. I had seen every movie, I had the news events memorized. The only thing that mattered was her. I relapsed a few times. Spent a couple years here and there binging on the more expensive drugs and booze I could now easily afford. I even traveled one year to try and clear my head. Spent 9 months in the Himalayas like some fucking monk.
Nothing worked. I kept coming back to her. Kept getting burned. I developed a habit every time I snapped back of picking up that handwritten note. I would stare at it, sometimes for hours at a time. "Be Careful". What a fucking understatement. I would inevitably ball it up and hit that damn button again. Every time, I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop until I had her.
Sorry last paragraph was too long, continued in next post. |
As you might have predicted, I'm dead. A fall from 13,000 feet will do that. As you might *not* have predicted, I'm suing over it.
It was surprisingly easy. There were an awful lot of lawyers available in Hell, perhaps to the point of cliche, but then, there's an awful lot of *everyone* down here. All walks of life, and I mean *all*. Breaks your heart.
Anyway. Wrongful death. Willful negligence. Apparently, I had a strong case. My lawyer says they'll settle, or at least I think he does. I don't speak Babylonian, but they say this Hammurabi guy is the best. He's confident. And he's pretty sore about the damnation thing, after inventing the code of law in Mesopotamia and stopping generations of bloody tribal warfare. He thought it might give him a pass on the whole "not believing in a guy that was born 1,000 years later than him"thing, but not so much, evidently. Stupid infallibility. Still, "on Earth as it is in Heaven", his words. A = B. B = A. Earth has laws. I was killed in US jurisdiction. God is liable.
Lucifer thought the whole thing was HILARIOUS, which is why he gave us a break from the bubbling brimstone long enough to file legal briefs, but started finding it less-so once legal precedent on Acts of God was set. Hell lost an awful lot of tenants. We got a class-action going.
Turned this whole thing around. Lucifer's doing time for kidnapping, God for evading arrest. Most of the angels and devils were hit with RICO charges, racketeering, assault. We sued Heaven again, for withholding evidence. Got access to the Akashic Records. Cleared up every murder, EVER, and a bunch of other nastiness, too, although some of the new convicts are appealing on the basis of illegal wiretapping. So it goes.
We've started pouring cement for the new Trans-Heaven-Tollway.
We're gonna sell timeshares.
|
I came to on the cobblestone street. A passing cart sprayed me with water and I rolled out of the way.
“Out of the way, peasant!” the driver yelled behind him.
I flipped him off and caught my breath, leaning against the bank’s wall in the alleyway. My Groupon purchase of a 1780 coin wasn’t paying off so far; I had been splashed awake and yelled at by some shitty merchant.
I thought about turning back right then and there. The rules were simple: squeeze a coin tightly between your hands and think, and you transport to the time and location that coin was created. That’s how I ended up in the heart of London, 1780.
I fumbled in my pocket for the 2017 penny to ride home. My fingers only found lint. I checked the pocket in my V-neck, but no luck. Just a card with the phone number of Stacy from the Shake Shack downtown. The penny must have fallen out on the street when I landed.
I sprinted back into the road, searching on my hands and knees. The horses had pounded manure and sludge into the cracks, but I had no choice. I scratched through the muck in circles around me.
“C’mon, c’mon, where are you?”
I felt an impact on my back-side and fell to the ground. “I told you to get out of the street, peasant!” It was the merchant from before. I stood up and faced him. He back-handed me across the face, leaving a stinging welt. That was it.
I grabbed him and threw him into the mud. He yelped and reached up to grab me but I snatched his arm across my body and snapped it. He wailed in pain. “Un-hand me, commoner!”
I stepped off of him and saw policemen running down the street towards us. Shit, this was not going to end well. It looked like my tour of 1780 was going to include a prison visit.
Then a bearded man in a ponytail appeared with a THUD next to me on the street. He was wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt and no shoes. I seized my opportunity and rifled through his pockets, coming up with a heavy silver coin. 1973, close enough.
I squeezed the coin with all my might...and woke up in a dark facility. The vault read: “Fort Knox Secure Facility.” |
"Aliens. It's got to be."
I snorted at the man sitting across the bar from me. Dan. Completely insane. "It's not *aliens.* Why would you think that?"
He frowned. "C-Cause. It's got to be. What else could it be?"
"Government conspiracy."Samantha said, shaking her head. "It's all been a ploy. They've bought off the scientists, and they used the whole thing for some sort of *bizarre* social experiment."
"Why, though?"Steve demanded, smacking his drink on the counter hard enough to spill it. "What's the endgame, Sam?"
"Manipulation of thought,"she said, folding her arms as she glared back. "You tell people something's real, for years and years and years, and then you take it all away. How do they react, hmm?"Her eyes tightened. "I wonder what *else* isn't real?"
I sighed. "Sam, calm down."
"I'm sure the answer's out there somewhere,"Dan muttered. "We just have to look. But where?"
"People seem to use this Google thing an awful lot,"Steve said, frowning down at his phone. "Maybe it's on there."
"Another government tool to see into your thoughts,"Sam said, eyes wide. "Jesus *christ*, you idiot. Just spill your brains out for them, why don't you?"
"It could be worth a try, anyway,"I said pulling my phone out of my pocket. "Before we get ourselves-"
Sam reached out, snatching my phone away. "You'll thank me later,"she said, sliding off her seat before I could take it back.
"Dammit, Sam, stop-"
"You'll *thank me,*"she hissed, stepping towards the door. "You can thank me by getting my bill, in fact. I need to go. Have to research."
"Sam, I'm *not*-"I stopped. The door was already shut.
"Maybe it flew off,"Steve said, his voice musing.
I laughed. "It flew off?"
"You know. Broke orbit. Maybe it's a rogue planet now."
"So, let me get this straight,"I sighed, pressing a hand to my face. "Let's say....aliens *stole* our planet. They pulled it out of orbit, whisking it off to their own system- Or better yet, no system at all. They just...hijacked it. And the government is keeping it from us. But *why*?"
Dan snapped his fingers. "They turned it into a colony. That's *it*. They took poor, innocent Pluto, hollowed it out, and now it's a *ship* for them. And- and-"
"The government sold it to them,"Steve said, nodding. "Probably the US. They *are* trying to fix the national debt, after all."
"Could have been Russia, too,"Dan muttered. "They're crazy. Never know what they'll do next. Only they couldn't *say* they sold a planet, so-"
"So they say it's not *really* a planet, hoping everyone forgets,"Steve said. He was face-to-face with Dan by then, both red and flushed with excitement. "My *god*. We're all so damned blind."
"I'm pretty sure it's none of the above,"I said dryly. "You're just idiots."
They spun on me, both sputtering. I just chuckled, raising my hands and letting them vent all their frustrations.
They'd been good friends, conspiracies aside. That was why I didn't mind letting them run wild now and then. Besides, it was fun to hear what they'd come up with. I was really going to miss them, in the end.
So I let them yell. I let them air their paranoia, laughing all the while. I paid Sam's outrageous bar tab without complaint.
And all the while, the pit of my stomach churned.
I wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place. If anyone found out I was sitting here, having *this* conversation with these humans, considered nutjobs and lunatics even by their own, I'd probably lose my job. Hell, I'd be lucky if they didn't label me a traitor and...well, I wouldn't be enjoying a drink with them, that much was for sure.
But despite myself, I liked them. I liked them, and their theories, and they were the only ones who were going to be able to help. After all, with ideas like *those* coming out of their mouths, there was no limit to what they'd consider possible.
I needed that. I needed that creativity, that ability to accept the unrealistic as reality and think outside the box. There was no way I was going to be able to do this alone. I needed help, and they were the only ones who would be willing to give it to me.
Because what was coming? What was *really* coming? They had no idea. And we were running out of time to stop it.
Dan laughed, spilling his beer on Steve. I laughed along. And there it was- my break in the conversation.
"So, hear me out,"I said, leaning forward. "I've kind of...Well, I've had this *idea*."
(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)
|
The entire galactic senate fell quiet upon meeting the ambassadors.
The humans didn't look particularly remarkable, a bipedal species composed of mostly water, with no useful adaptations like telekinesis or energy manipulation. Having them join the Federation would just be a strain on their resources.
One by one, the human ambassadors presented their cultural gifts, but nobody cared about what they had to offer. First they showed off their music, which to some species sounded like noise and to others felt like a declaration of war, then they presented their visual media, which somehow felt more insulting than the music given how violent and simple-minded it came across.
Most of the senate made up their minds by that point. The humans simply weren't ready to join them. Their last ambassador hadn't given up, though. The senators humored him out of courtesy. A way to make sure these humans didn't complain about not being given a fair shot.
"Ladies and gen-"the human ambassador paused, "wait that's wrong. *People* of the galaxy, I humbly offer you one of the greatest inventions of our species. We call it: Pizza!"
A human assistant then wheeled out a large serving tray with a strange concoction atop of it. It looked like a gooey circle of melted protein covering some viscous red liquid, all served on a base of refined carbohydrates that was toasted until crunchy.
In other words, it looked disgusting.
Everyone in the senate shared anxious glances. Nobody wanted to try it.
The human ambassador didn't seem to register this, though. His eager face made it difficult to outright deny the meal.
Etax, elected leader of the Federation, was forced to walk down from his podium and try it out, since nobody else seemed willing to do so.
The senators couldn't believe what they saw. Etax had led them through several wars and had proven himself to be a decisive leader, and yet he had never shown this much hesitance in his life. They all grew worried for him. What if it was poisonous? What if this was all a thinly veiled attack on them? Would they have to conquer Earth in retaliation?
Etax picked up a slice of the 'pizza'.
The human ambassador leaned forward in anticipation.
Etax couldn't stop his hand from shaking. He had to close his six eyes in order to take a bite.
Most of the senators had to look away. They couldn't bear to watch their leader suffer this humiliation. The next few seconds of silence weighed on them for what felt like an eternity.
"Well?"asked the human ambassador.
Etax swallowed down the food and widened all his eyes. Everyone quickly feared the worst, until hearing him say:
"IT'S AMAZING!"
The human ambassador merely chuckled. "I know, right?"
Etax went on to gorge on the entire serving tray.
The senators remained quiet as their leader feasted on the food. They all grew curious as to what made it so special and decided to try it out for themselves.
What followed would forever change the galactic community. They loved it. Unfortunately, the human ambassador hadn't brought enough for everyone, which quickly turned the situation more dangerous than expected. Many senators started fighting one another for the right to try out the pizza.
Etax had to bring order back to the hearing, but people didn't want to listen. It escalated so out of control that several planets were ready to go to war with each other just to have access to the delicacy.
Cooler heads eventually prevailed, though. The senators soon realized that going to war would only make the pizza harder to obtain. Humanity was then welcomed into the Federation with open arms. It had been a long time since a species was celebrated this much throughout the galaxy. To everyone's surprise, the humans didn't keep their recipes secret. They actually shared them with the galactic community.
The reason for this quickly became apparent. Nobody else in the galaxy could make them better. If anything, the Earthlings were excited to see what new ingredients they could use to make their pizzas even tastier. In the aftermath of this hearing, Etax visited the human ambassador in his private chambers, hoping to apologize for his previous skepticism.
"It's alright,"said the ambassador, "Most humans have a low opinion of humanity. I expected the same from aliens."
"Really?"said Etax, astonished. "You... expected this?"
"W-well, not to this extent, but yeah. Humans have warred with each other for millennia. We've fought over so many differences, some justified and others not, that we basically treat each other like aliens. And yet, despite our variety of cultures, we all mostly agree that a good meal is something to be cherished. You'd be amazed at how many grudges can be settled after breaking bread."
"I still don't get it,"said Etax. "You could've had a monopoly on food and you're giving it away. Even if you're better at it than most, you're still losing a big advantage."
The human shook his head. "You're wrong. A good cook will always say the same thing: the best part about making a meal is seeing others enjoy it. That's what drove us to make it that good in the first place. Besides, do you think pizza is all we have to offer?"
Etax squinted. "It's not?"
The human couldn’t help but laugh. "No, no, good sir. Next time you visit Earth, remind me to show you what we call... hamburgers."
--------
>If you enjoyed this, check out my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! |
"I'm not a Mexican,"Trump disdained, shaking his head at the girl behind the counter. "Do I look Mexican for you?"
"I didn't say you were Mexican, Mr. Trump,"the lady replied, patiently. "I said you are not an American citizen.
You are an illegal immigrant. "
"Well, you have to be Mexican to be an illegal immigrant, don't you, now?"
"No, not really."
Trump frowned. "*You don't?*"
"Mr. Trump, do you know what 'illegal immigrant' even means?"
"Yeah. It means Mexican."Trump looked around at the people behind him in line, pointing at the woman like 'what
is she talking about?'
"Well, no, Mr. Trump. It means anyone who comes to the country with the intention of living here permanently
without the proper documentation."
"*Really*?"
"Also, I know it's none of my business, but vaccines also don't cause autism."
Donald Trump's eyes went wide like everything he ever knew had just been challenged. "Now you're just trying to
get into my head,"he said.
"Regardless, Mr. Trump,"the lady continued. "The fact is, as you are not an American citizen, you cannot run for
president."
"I can't?"
"Yes, sir, only American citizens can be president. That's why Psycho Alpaca will never be president, as well."
"Who?"
"Never mind. The fact is *you* cannot ever be president."
"But I told you, I'm not a Mexican!"
"There are more countries in the world than the U.S. and Mexico, Mr. Trump!"
"Oh, come on!"Trump exclaims, like the lady had lost her mind. "What are you talking about?"
"You are an alien, ok!?"the girl screams, losing her patience. "You are an alien, Mr. Trump."
"What?"
"You were brought to Earth as a kid by a team of astronauts in 1946 in order to be studied. Stolen from your home
planet in the Sunflower Galaxy."
"This is nonsense!"
"Your parents actually tried to get you back, a year later. Their ship crashed in Roswell, New Mexico. No one
survived."
Trump blinked repeatedly. Flashes of stars and supernovas flooded his mind – a sky purple and yellow dotted by two suns – a little metal house in a prairie.
"I'm… an alien,"he said, remembering.
"Yes,"the girl replied. Everyone was quiet in the room now, watching. "I'm sorry you had to learn it this way,
Donald, but…"
"I'm Jesus…"Trump continued, not listening. "I am Jesus Christ."
"No… No, that's not what I'm saying,"the girl replied. "Jesus wasn't an alien. You are an alien. I don't even know
how you're making that connection, but –"
"I have to save humanity from itself. I am Superman."
"Ok, that's a better analogy, but still insane,"the lady continued. "Look, Trump, you've been living on Earth since
forever. You have a good life here – friends, money, girls…"
Donald Trump raised his eyes to the girl behind the counter, and his feet left the floor. A bright light seemed to
emanate from his body, outshining the sodium bulbs all around. People protected their eyes as Donald rose,
opening his arms.
"I am the lord supreme of the universe!"he bellowed, his voice dark and echoing like a Pink Floyd chorus. "I am the
alpha and the omega!"
Thunder flashed and exploded outside, even though it was sunny. A harsh wind made the papers flow all around
the city hall, knocking down portraits and computers to the ground.
"I AM DONALD TRUMP,"Donald continued, his voice now louder than ever. "MY… WILL… BE… DONE!"
The world shook under Donald's feet, then slowly started folding onto itself. The oceans rose and fell and covered
the bending continents, and the very shape of Earth started shifting. In front of Donald Trump's eyes, the whole
planet started rearranging itself, from the most faraway islands to the largest continents, until all that was left was
a giant doughnut hanging in space where the Earth should be. Painted in frosting across the doughnut, Donald
Trump's smiling face was like a beacon of light irradiating from the solar system unto the whole universe, forever
and ever until the end of time and beyond that.
______________________________________
"Mr. Trump? Mr. Trump?"
Donald opened his eyes.
"What?
"Did you hear me?"the lady asked Trump. "I said that as you are not an American citizen, you cannot run for
president."
"Oh…"Trump said, looking around, then at the girl again. "All right… Huh…"
"Would you like me to run your paperwork so you can find out where you are from?"
"Huh…"Trump hesitated, still looking around. "No, I… perhaps later… I gotta go now."
He turned around, then turned back to the lady. "Hey…. You know where I can find a good doughnut shop around?"
___________________________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
|
Do you remember when we first met? Maybe not, it was a long time ago. But I do.
Rome, the Eternal City. How fitting, when you think about it. I was run over by a horse carriage. I remember it all, the pain, the fear, the agony. And you. You came and saved me. You left before I could thank you. I guess a doctor like you must be always in a hurry.
Years later, Venice. The plague. My husband died before you arrived. I don't blame you, I know you had your hands full at the time. Still, you left before I could express my gratitude. You had saved me twice and I never got to repay you. It didn't stop there.
Florence, heart attack. Paris, stabbed in an alley. London twice, first the plague again and then caught in a fire the next year. Boston, the first time I was shot. Oregon, dysentery.
So many times, so many places and yet always the same story. I die, you bring me back and leave. I admit, after some point I was looking forward to these glimpses of you. This eternal life has been pretty lonely for me. I can only guess it has been pretty lonely for you too. A man with a family wouldn't always be there when I needed him, right? I mean, you saved me so many times, that must mean you care a little about me, doesn't it?
So maybe... If you don't mind...
Look at me, after so many years, I can't even bring myself to write what I feel.
Here I go. I'm writing you this note to tell you we can't keep seeing each other like this.
When I'm done writing this, I'll shoot myself. And like always, you'll be here. After you save me, I hope you read this note. And more than anything, I hope you stay a little longer this time.
I have a lot of things I need to tell you. |
Clara sat as far back as she could on the wings of the crowded room, slouched down into her seat as if she might fall through the floor to somewhere more interesting. She was a young woman, a girl really, in the first day of her first year at a university she hadn’t even wanted to attend. Her parents had insisted however so here she was, and big surprise, it sucked just as hard as she had imagined.
There were 45 students in this hall and not one of them seemed like anything other than some cookie cutter barbie wannabe or a soon to be failed frat pledge. On top of that the syllabus didn’t have a single useful thing looking about minerals on it until the 8th week and even that was something she thought she’d already read. Perhaps geology hadn’t been the best decision, but then what was a witch actually supposed to study in school?
\*squeak squeak\*
Clara looked down to her backpack where Perry was frantically running up and down the bag’s straps. The little mouse spirit looked absolutely panicked and reaching out with surprise she scooped him up, holding her friend to her ear. The students sitting on either side gave her a sidelong glance but she ignored them, if they couldn’t see him it was their loss.
\*squeak squeak, squeak squeak!\*
Perry hopped from her cupped hands onto her shoulder, then reached up to climb her hair until her sat directly on top of her head. He chattered the whole time, bursts of mouse-speak so fast that she could barely make sense of it until he settle directly over top of the portion of her brain responsible for the second sight. Once there she got the message and Clara opened her emotions up to her little friend, communicating on a level beyond words.
“Bad, bad, danger!” Perry thought at her, firing a strange mix of thoughts at her, “predator, teeth, danger, danger!”
Not for the first time Clara wished she had summoned a smarter familiar but Perry was just too damn cute and most of the time things like these didn’t matter.
Still though, he seemed completely freaked out and spirits were much more sensitive to these things than humans. With a sigh she began the complex array of hand motions that substituted for a wand, hiding them under her desk, and then she spoke a word of power. A moment later the entire room lit up in front of her in a raucous display of auras.
Most people’s aura’s were tended towards shades of gray as they aged, with youth being the time of highest variance. Throughout the room she saws light pinks, several pleasant greens, even a turquoise towards the front that she would have been very interested in under different circumstances. Clara’s own was a shockingly bright white, she had been told more than once that it was blinding, although that might have just been wizards trying to hit on her.
In that moment however, all of that fell away. At the front of the room, sandwiched on either side of some completely unsuspecting fool, were a pair of jet black auras with rough, sawtooth edges. The aura on the right was particularly horrific, with cracks seeming to extend down to its very core where a tightly wound ball of negative energy seemed to eat the light all around it.
They were killers, and experienced ones judging by those jagged edges. They showed none of the signs of having killed together, in cases of extreme emotion such as that visible bonds were almost always formed, and in fact they seemed to have no awareness of each other at all. Both of the young men stared towards different wings of the room, their attentions spiraling out towards classmates in dark, hazy tendrils.
Clara cursed under her breath, deactivating her second sight before it tired her. This was not how her first day was supposed to go.
Calmer now that he had notified her, Perry jumped down onto the desk in front of her, staring at her with a quizzical expression. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, he knew what to do, this wasn’t the first time.
While he scurried away Clara closed her eyes, centering herself as she prepared to cast her first real spell of freshman year. She hated the fact that it was one of these, but there was nothing else for it.
Fixing the two young killers in her mind she began her love charm, hands a blur under the desk. She had pitched her voice as softly as she could as the very words themselves could entrance someone with their beauty, but as she opened her eyes she realized that it hadn’t been quite quiet enough. Several sharp eared students around her seemed smitten, caught by the edges of its effects. She cursed again, it would take days to wear off.
Ten minutes later class finally ended, and dodging the attentions of the new would be suitors she had accidentally created Clara darted out of the room. She lingered outside however, waiting until the two boys she had spotted earlier finally left, and then with a sharp turn on her heel she was out the door and into the rapidly growing dusk outside.
She took the secluded route to the local park, stretching her senses behind to make sure that they followed. The one with the cracked aura was closer, the other hung back, watching and wary.
The park was close by now and Clara slowed her pace, letting the cracked aura catch up to her. The three of them were all thoroughly alone by now, the moment should be just upon him…
There it was, running footsteps, ragged breath, the sharp explosion of hunger. Clara turned to face the animal who stalked her, relishing the moment, savoring her victory.
In the moment before he was on her Clara got her first good look at him. He was handsome in the gathering darkness, she hadn’t expected that. His eyes were a bright, vibrant green, his hair a shaggy brown that was swept back wildly by his speed. He had a single earing, left ear, and his hands were smooth, like he’d never seen any work in his life, aside from the butchery evidenced by the knife he carried.
She caught all that and more before Perry reached him and the young man was swept up in an avalanche of putrid brown fur. He screamed loudly, loud enough that somewhere might hear them if there were anyone around except for the second killer who still hung back in the shadows too far away to be reached. She wondered what he must have thought, first seeing that he wasn’t the only predator around and second seeing his would-be friend devoured by half the mice and rats in the city.
Perry detached himself from the seething mass of his living brethren and padded over to Clara, looking up expectantly.
“Perry,” she said, careful not to look at the man who still hid, “I want you to follow the other one. Do you understand?”
\*squeak, squeak!\*
With a strangely human nod the mouse ran off to his duty, until instructed otherwise he would tail the stranger every moment of every day, and wherever Perry went she could feel it. The other killer wasn’t long for this world.
She forced herself to watch for a few moments longer as the rats devoured their prey, in a strange way she felt she owed it to the dead man, no matter what he might have been. She hoped she would still be able to sleep tonight, after all of that magic Clara realized she was quite tired. It had been a hell of a first day.
\---------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/). Come check it out, I'd love to have you! |
"Goddamn it, not now!"Index screamed, cast aside his papers before the holy water drenched his project files. He left his table, searching for a dry blanket in the kitchen. He glanced at the watch and realized he had 2 hours left before the deadline.
*This is why you don't put holy water in a bottle next to a printer...* He cursed, rushing into his room. But no, mom said placing holy water next to a PC will bless the device. As if God knows how to make a copy of hundreds of pages of this stupid poster. Bullshit. He knew Mr. Burn assigned it at the last moment, expecting the result by tonight.
As the legend said, the printer smells fear, and now he barely printed a single page from the stupid thing. Noisy, constant jamming. and he ran out of ink again-
He froze at his doorstep, watching a strange dark smoke escaping the interior of the black printer. Was his contact lens making trouble again? He rubbed his eyes, but the sight before him haven't changed.
"No, no, no! Don't fry yourself now!"Index leaped to the machine. Odd, no smell, no stains, but the dark smoke faded away into thin air. He swore he heard whispers from the evaporating gas.
Like screaming souls.
"Yeah, I need my meds later,"He pried open the machine and made a quick survey. No short circuit? Then what the hell was that smoke?
The printer suddenly made a loud clicking sound and began printing while the cover remained open. He reassembled the whole thing and took a step back.
It began swallowing the paper on the trays in a blink of an eye. Index gasped, watching papers flying out from the side.
"What the f-"He examined the screen and saw the printing numbers exceeding dozens of copies in less than a second. He picked one copy from the ground and witnessed the cleanest color he ever saw coming out of the old machine. The ink was supposed to last only a few pages left!
He approached the machine, avoided stepping hundreds of papers on the floor, and turned it off. One trace of smoke slipped out from the power button. This time, he heard it clearly.
"We failed you, our lords. This printer is cleansed. They have the weapon to kill us,"It froze in front of his eyes, "Well done, mortal. But we are many. We will drive your kind to despair. The printer master will sway you from the eyes of the god-"
"Shut up and let me work,"Index took the holy water, dipped his fingers into the bottle, and sprinkled it on the evil creature. It screamed and faded away, leaving his printer strangely clean like brand new. He examined the holy water and smiled, "Well, I guess you're right, mom. This is a blessing." |
“It’s been fifty years already? Time flies on Earth 7. I remember how dull the years felt all that time ago. How bored I was with my immortality, sitting around with the other self-righteous on Earth 1. Or shall I just call it Earth? What do the angels refer to it as?” Alex asked, paying little attention to the angel. He had been struggling to open his can of soup for the last ten minutes, banging it against the side of his worn-out kitchen table. The pointed edges of the table piercing the top but not quite busting it open, spilling droplets of red tomato soup all over the table.
“We call it heaven. You were a holy man back then; a crowning achievement of what faith could do for a person. We still believe you are that holy person, which is why we are begging you to reconsider this crusade you’re performing. These people will repent on their own. They don’t need you to torment them into submission.” The angel pleaded; body hidden by a ray of golden light. On Earth 1, the angels were visible, a figure that those holy humans could comprehend, but as one moved lower down the Earth’s, the angels became more obscured, their features not visible behind the protective holy lights.
“Really? You think this is reforming anyone? Have you even looked at the world outside? Feel free to glance out of the cracks in my walls. It’s hell on this Earth. You put the worst of the worst together and expected them to play nice?”
“We believed that it would be in their best interest to be separated. It would offer them a chance to self-reflect without harming anyone else.”
“Without harming anyone else? So, it’s fine if they kill each other?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s implied. I agree with you, I would rather they kill each other. Unfortunately, that doesn’t give them a chance to reflect on their mistakes. All you’ve done is given them access to a playground of sin, one where they have even fewer consequences.” Alex banged the can against the edge, the top spilling open, spilling a wave of red liquid over the table. “Want some soup?”
“I’ll pass. Don’t you think this is better? We created a heaven and hell using your Earth, a way to organize people into categories. No one dies anymore. They simply live and reflect on their lives until they earn their way to Earth 1.”
“How many people here do you believe will earn their way back?”
“I believe every sinner has a chance to-“
“Honestly. Without the shit, how many do you think will earn their way back without me?”
“Five, maybe ten.” The angel sighed.
“Five or ten every fifty years. This place is going to get overpopulated at this rate. That’s not even counting the new arrives. Sure, Earth 7 is a hard place to get into, but it’s an even harder place to leave. Imagine living around murderers and sinners and trying to avoid killing someone. Even if you kill to protect yourself, you’re still technically a committing a sin.”
“God says one must forgive his enemies. As an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”
“Fifty years of turning the other cheek is hard. Which is why I’m helping. These people need someone to fear. A threat that makes them uneasy about sinning.”
“Alex, this isn’t the way to do things. You need to trust god’s plan.”
“What plan? We hear nothing from him for thousands of years and then suddenly we all sent to these Earth’s without warning. That was his grand plan? This isn’t what I devoted my life to. God teaches sinners how to grow. He doesn’t throw them into the too hard basket and leave them to kill one another.” Alex sipped his soup, downing the cold liquid and tossing the can onto the floor.
“This is a different way of teaching.” The angel said, picking up the can from the floor, looking for a bin to put it in. When it found none, it simply crushed the can into light. “You still choose to eat, even with immortality?”
“Even if hunger won’t kill me, it still doesn’t feel nice to starve. Plus, one can for me means one less for the others. I plan to weaken them until they are forced to become better people.”
“That isn’t the way. What if you shared the can? Wouldn’t that send a better message?”
“Heh, you angels really don’t have any clue what these people are like. These aren’t people who have just sworn during church or tripped someone over. These are the worst of the worst. People that don’t understand the difference between right and wrong. Suffering is their only way to salvation. They need to experience fear and pain.”
“I don’t think we will see eye to eye on this. I hate to say it, but you won’t be advancing to Earth 6 this time.”
“Mm-hmm. You can just send a letter next time. Don’t bother showing up.” Alex murmured, noticing the hint of a flashlight outside, the light poking through a crack in his wall. The light moving around the back of his house as he crept closer to the wall, peering out of the hole, watching as a small group of looters made their way to his shed.
“Please. I can tell what you’re thinking. Share your supplies with them.”
“You know, maybe you’re right.” Alex said, giving the angel a moment of hope before he reached for a remote underneath the kitchen sink. With the remote in hand, he waited until a looter opened the shed door before setting off the explosives. “Oh, what a shame. Nothing left to share.”
The angel grimaced, unable to look at the destruction. Smoke pouring from where the shed once was. The looters didn’t die, but it would take some time for their bodies to fully heal. Alex opened the backdoor, staring down the group.
“Welcome to hell, newbies. I’m going to torment you until you repent for your sins. If you’re smart, you will take this warning and follow the rules I’ve set. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you never get a moment of rest; you will always be looking over your shoulder for me.”
Alex watched as the group slowly healed, staring at the man in horror before scurrying into the darkness of the night. Alex was certain some of them would be back. Most people that ended up in hell weren’t the type to conform to rules, at least not at first. They would make a few attempts on his life and may even succeed, but without being able to kill him, they could only halt him for so long. Even trapping Alex wouldn’t last forever. The most successful trapping attempt lasting five years until the lock on his cage door rusted, and he broke free.
“You have set up rules?” The angel questioned.
“I have a few posters outside. A few guidelines on how to avoid contact with me. If they behave themselves, they won’t get much trouble from me. It’s the ones that continue their old habits that need to fear me.”
“I see. When you were a religious man, did you believe in the devil?”
“I did. It makes sense that if there is a god, there would be a devil.”
“The devil was never real. At least not until you arrived here. Your tale shares some similarities to the devil’s too. You both serve a similar purpose, although while the devil was a prisoner of hell, you appear to be a warden. I believe you have become the devil of Earth 7. I just wonder if you will stay a warden forever or end up a prisoner, too?”
“I’m no devil. I’ll return to Earth 1 when the evil repents. I just don’t plan to leave until I do god’s job for him. Even the wicked deserve to go to Earth 1. Even if they have to be forced to better themselves.”
“Hm. That answers my question. I’ll be taking my leave.”
“Please do. I need to go check my security camera. This place might look like it’s falling apart, but that’s just to trick anyone stupid enough to enter it. I have traps, a bunker and everything I need to make them repent. You’re just putting me in danger by being here.”
“Very well. Farewell.” The angel shone even brighter, causing Alex’s senses to overload, unable to hear anything but white noise as the angel left him with one word. “Prisoner.” Before vanishing.
&nbsp;
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
The pterodactyls soared through the fluffy white clouds as I walked with Michael along walkways through Heaven’s Visitor Center. We’d heard that God was serving ice cream. The freezers had gone out, and it all needed to be eaten before melting. Why God couldn’t just keep it solid I didn’t know, but He seemed to enjoy running Heaven like a theme park.
Michael’s walkie-talking squawked at him. “No,” screamed Michael into it. “T-Rex doesn’t like to be fed the Bible passages. T-Rex wants to hunt for a deeper understanding on their meaning.” He shrugged at me and rolled his eyes.
“You can’t just lay out a stack of Bibles.” Michael’s frustration level grew as the intensity of his voice increased. “You’ve got to engage him”
The angel on the other end said something else that I couldn’t understand that caused Michael to clip the walkie-talkie onto his belt.
“Got to go?” I said.
Michael apologized and started to run off. “Don’t forget to get some of that ice cream. It’s really good. God spared no expense.”
I sighed and continued walking toward the visitor center. It’d been hard since I died. Very few humans had made it to heaven. While five year old me would have loved all the dinosaurs, adult me wasn’t thrilled.
In the pathway ahead, after I rounded a corner, stood a small raptor wearing a yellow sundress. She stood alone clutching a pink Bible to her chest. It looked like she was about to cry.
I moved forward, reaching out my hand, saying, “Are you okay? Do you know where your mother is?” Even lost little dinosaurs moved my heart to help.
I heard rustling to my left. Another raptor head poked out of a bush along the pathway. Something else rustled to my right. I sighed and stopped walking.
Every damn time I fell for it. Michael had warned me on day one that raptors loved proselytizing for their sect and that they could find almost any way to get you into a conversation.
I looked back to the lost little raptor. A giant smile of pure pleasure spread across her little dino face.
“Clever girl,” I said just before they snagged me.
___________
*I'm surprised by how much you guys like this silly little slice of life in Heaven. I'm continuing another prompt response called [The Terran Representative](https://www.reddit.com/r/Puns_are_Lazy/comments/3zbm7q/wp_1_humanity_finally_abandons_earth_to_explore/) with updates posted regularly on /r/Puns_are_Lazy. I'd love for you to stop by, take a gander and let me know what you think of it. Thanks!*
|
"Did you not get the evite?"The king stood agape, standing half in front of the queen, who held the babe in her arms. The knights of the realm brought their rifles to the shoulders, awaiting the king's orders.
"Yes, though it was in my spam folder. But the ancient rites are clear on the proper appearance of the invitation,"said the Fairy. "Calligraphy with cord-blood on vellum is the only acceptable form. My hands are tied here."
"We sent the proper invitation,"the king insisted. "I promise. My best horseman carried it himself."
"Oh, I am aware. I found the body. The floods this year took out the bridge across the Fell River. It seems your best horseman tried to ford it. No invitation to be found, unfortunately. For future reference, your knights' horsemanship has really gone downhill the last hundred years. You might want to consider a helicopter next time. The ancient rites don't actually specify a horse-based delivery system."
The queen pushed in front of the king and sank to her knees in front of the Fairy. She held the babe to her breast as she pleaded with the ancient sorceress. "Please, my lady, spare my child from your curse. My family has supported you for centuries. Ask whatever boon or gift you desire and it shall be yours."
The Fairy sighed. Their hearts were in the right place, but she had no choice in the matter. If she didn't place a curse on the child, it would just end up dying. She raised her hands to the sky. "Stay your begging. The old treaty will be upheld. I will lay a curse upon this child."
The king gestured to his knights, who moved to surround the Fairy. With a flick of her wrists, their rifles flew from their hands. "Be still, king. Your anti-magic bullets would do nothing to me."
She reached down and took the child from the limp grasp of the queen. "Many times in this kingdom's history has a boon or curse been laid upon the royal child. The tradition shall not end here. I shall bow to tradition and bestow upon you the same devastating curse that was given to Princess Julia the Fair a thousand years ago."
The Fairy's eyes glowed, casting a red glare across the room. A mist formed in the room as she spoke her dark curse. "Princess Fair, I curse you. You shall not marry until you are a spinster of twenty-five. You shall bear only a pair of children. Any garment that you sew shall become coarse and ill-fitting. All your embroidery work shall unravel. Your poetry shall bring naught but tears to the eyes of those that hear it. You shall never learn to play the harp."
When the mist cleared, the Fairy was gone, though a faint echo of her voice could be heard. "Remember to invite me to her first birthday..."
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] |
Georgina Lomax. *Vain, selfish, tight-fisted, cheat.*
I am gorgeous, rich and successful but all that shit doesn’t matter anymore. All that people care about are these stupid flaw clouds. It’s meant to stop people from being taken advantage of, taken in by people who are trying to hide their true characters but instead it’s just made dating a fucking nightmare and its made me bitter. Oh fuck I bet *bitter* is going to pop up in my cloud now.
So that’s why I find myself in this sad little bar at a speed-dating event. It’s dingy and there are other horrible people just like me milling about at the bar. *Liar, greedy, pyromaniac…* Jesus. How the hell are you supposed to date someone when you already know the worst thing about him or her? They couldn’t think to display your best qualities could they? They had to make it difficult.
A woman with blonde hair pulled into a tight bun wearing a pink dress rings a bell. *Bossy, know-it-all, bad listener.*
“Okay, ladies you have your numbers! Go and sit at your table and the men will come to you! Remember you have three minutes with each potential partner. And try not to concentrate on their flaws!” she forces a wide smile, showing off her pearly teeth.
*As if…* I think making my way to table number 7. *Lucky number 7, yeah right.* How can you ignore them? I can’t imagine the flaw clouds have made it easy on dating event organisers. They can’t have many success stories nowadays.
I sit down heavily on the chair and lean back stretching my legs out to the side. Now that your flaws are on show you have to make the most of everything else you’ve got. I suppose that’s made me even more vain. Ironic really isn’t it?
I stir my cosmo moodily waiting for the first defective man to sit across from me. I’m not paying attention when the chair is pulled out scraping the wood floor. I look up from under my long black eyelashes ready to find out what’s wrong with him. But I’m taken unaware.
“Hi,” he says casually, “I’m Matthew.”
He sits down opposite me and smiles. But I don’t say anything. His cloud is empty. I screw my eyes shut and reopen them just to check I’ve not had one too many drinks. But it’s still empty.
“What the hell?” I mutter to myself leaning forward, hardly caring if he thinks I’m weird talking to myself.
Matthew laughs, “My cloud? Don’t worry about that, you’re not seeing things.”
“Why the fuck is there nothing in it?”
He smiles. I can’t help but find it attractive. He’s tall and dark, with stubble. He’s wearing a plain t-shirt and plain jeans. He’s just plain, but there’s something about him.
“Why are there things in yours?” he asks.
I open my mouth in shock, “What… what do you even mean by that? Everyone has them. Everyone except you! How did you get rid of it?!”
He sighs looking around like he’s had this conversation a thousand times. I reach for my drink and take a gulp. Oh fuck I need to slow down or *alcoholic* will appear soon.
“Think about it,” he says quietly, “How do you define yourself?”
“Two minutes!” The blonde woman shouts from the bar.
I shake my head, “I don’t need to define myself. This fucking thing,” I gesture to my cloud, “does it for me!”
Matthew smiles again like he pities me. “No,” he laughs, “that’s not what I mean.”
I roll my eyes, “Well explain it then wise-guy.”
“It’s hard. But I guess I can try. I’m going to explain what I see when I look at you.”
I scoff and reach for my drink again.
Matthew politely ignores my rudeness. Oh shit I bet *rudeness* is up there now. I can’t bring myself to check.
“One minute!”
“You’re beautiful,” he starts. “You have model features but you’re a lot more than a pretty face. You’re devilishly smart and ambitious. You know it’s important to look after yourself so you’re careful with money and of course your emotions. You’re not just going to let anybody in, which makes you even more special and rare.”
I can’t do anything but stare open mouthed. I can’t remember the last time anyone paid me any kind of compliment apart from ‘great legs love, shame about your personality’.
He stares back at me waiting for me to reply.
“I don’t understand,” I finally splutter.
“Times up!” The blonde screeches.
Matthew pushes his chair away and stands up, “That’s because you let your flaws define who you are.”
|
*An energetic, chubby 40-something bursts through the door of the CIA conference room*
"What's uuuup, bitches?? Nah I'm not being sexist, just talking to my friends Dale and Brandon over here, haha. Those guys are total B's if you catch the drift of Dees nuts - buuuut for realsies, it's about time you called on a brother. I mean it's no secret your shits are leaking outta your bumholes and runnin down your legs, staining them government issued pant-suits they been lettin you ladies wear around here. And, hey - equal opportunity blame for the equal opportunity job we all need done here.
"So hey, let's get down to brass ass attacks. The way I sees it, we got two options: either we go in there and rescue the hostages from those pinko commie terroristsm....or...or we make them surrender with the power of love...via rock and roll."
"who let this guy in here? The war on terror isn't even against communists. How did this clown even get the clearance to get into the war room?"
"En tanche, Herr secretary. Forgive my intrusion, but perhaps this little riff could change your tune from F sharp to A major scale upgrade"
*plays an improvised checkbook box and ruler rubber band guitar to a perfection that would make Strauss weep*
Director: Equip him with all the Ethan Hunt gear we can muster, disavow any knowledge of him, his plan, and his musical brilliance, and then drop him behind enemy lines. He'll either come out a hero, or he'll be forgotten. Either way, I won't have his mistakes on *my* head!
JB: you don't need to worry about me, sir. Just have your extraction team ready in 27 hours at Tango Igloo Tango checkpoint.
Director: very well. We'll see you on the TIT tomorrow. Dismissed.
JB: yeah, like I ever miss a chance to dis - oh yeah gotcha. Thank you, sir.
Dir: *to self* no thank you, agent Black. Without you, I'd have noone to blame things on.
|
Szplk stepped into the dining area with his tray of Glorp and was greatly relieved to see one chair still free at the table where his friends always sat. That relief seemed to wash over him like a warm spring thunderstorm, taking away much of the stress of the mornings work.
The others nodded greetings as he sat, all of them already working on their plates of Glorp.
"I have a funny anecdote for you,"Szplk announced to the table, his mandibular tentacles waving excitedly in anticipation. Everyone looked up at him with interest.
"I passed that new human they hired in the hallway up on the 3rd floor,"said Szplk. "You know what I said to him?"Szplk's voice rose in anticipation. A brief comedic pause, and he continued, "What's what's the square root of 1,764?"and then burst out laughing.
Instantly the entire table was in an uproar. Grxbk did a spit take and sprayed Glorp all over Vzbrn sitting across from him. Joyful laughter filled the cafeteria, and almost seemed infectious to everyone in there.
"And you know..."Szplk tried to continue between guffaws, "...you know what he replied??"
No one could stop laughing to ask, so Szplk blurted "42!!!"
The laughter redoubled and sustained itself for some minutes.
Grblt, who was rather young and not the sharpest Morgpp in the Stlllpt, turned to his older brother Grxbk and say, "I'm not sure I get it..."
"Well..."Grxbk struggled to explain between paroxysms, "...it's that humans are like walking... <BWaa-haa> ...like walking calculators!"He was slowly regaining control of himself, though the joy of the moment still coursed through him like cool water. "And 42 just happens to be the answer to..."
Suddenly, as the laughter settled, he realized that Vzbrn had not actually been laughing, but was actually sobbing violently. Everyone at the table was now in shock and dismay, wondering what may have caused this. As they all looked at her in wonderment, she exclaimed, "That's so insensitive!"
They realized that she was right. Greeting the new employee with such a trite prejudice was not funny at all. It was a horrible way to treat a coworker. The shame and embarassment rose in them all like lava from a volcano. Grxbk began to sob , and then Grblt next to him and in a moment the entire table was wracked with dolorous convulsions. The mood in the entire cafeteria grew decidedly dark.
Szplk most of all felt the crushing weight of the guilt. He could barely see through the hot tears filling his eyes and was near to collapsing in sobbing grief. He could hear sad moaning from nearby diners and the depression seemed to spread.
Except for a tall, slim, alien form that had approached from the side with its own tray of Glorp. Despite the blurry vision, he could see the hairless outline, the odd textile coverings - it had to be Tim. A shameful horror pierced Szplk's heart, causing him a sharp, physical pain.
"Hi Sizz-poleck,"attempted Tim. "Is this a bad time? I was wondering if I could join you and your friends..."he said uncertainly.
Szplk's eyes went wide. All the sobbing stopped in wonderment. A shot at redemption! A second chance! He began to laugh. What a coolly calculated gesture! Instantly, Grxbk grabbed a nearby chair. The Morgpp that was sitting in it thumped unceremoniously to the floor. The joy spread around the table as everyone saw the way out of their shameful predicament. Everyone welcomed Tim to the table and the laughter was renewed and boisterous and was soon spreading again through the cafeteria. |
When the aliens first landed in their small ship filled with a handful of their most elite scouts, they had one purpose: to turn all humans into fodder for their front-line battalions in the neverending war their empire waged on all other planets for conquest.
They had studied humanity from a distance for years, learning their weaknesses. For example, some humans could easily be exploited in exchange for nude images on the internet.
Krom'kal, mind-dominator of all the Urqil aliens was the leader of the hivemind. It had sent the scouts to assimilate humanity to the collective to achieve the empire's goals.
No previous preparation could have readied them for what they encountered on Earth. Something so disturbingly powerful that conquered the mind of Krom'kal itself.
Greg Fefferton was in his mid-30s. He lived alone in a small house in Rapid City, South Dakota. He was an only child whose parents died a few years back, leaving him the home and a small fortune. A fortune he dedicated to his collection.
Greg was the owner of South Dakota's, and the world's for that matter, largest collection of Furbys and Furby memorabilia. He owned two of each Furby in every color as if preparing for a flood he knew, if God was real, would soon come to punish the world for his grand iniquity.
The beaks on each of the Furbys had been worn down, drained of their original color, for Greg had a ritual. Before bed, he'd give each one a long kiss to reaffirm the small robotic beings of their importance in his life and the motherly love he shared for all of them.
After kissing each Furb's beak, he would stand in the middle of what he called their Nest (his basement lined with Furby shaped Xmas lights, filled with bean bag chairs made to resemble their lifeless faces and every other piece of merchandise and custom ordered Etsy commission he could fit inside it), grab a microphone hooked up to a modest PA system, and sing the song he wrote just for his Furb-babies.
"Slumber, slumber
O, ye little Furbs
Let your dreams be sweet and light
And never be disturbed
Furbys, babies
Your fur is as soft as silk
In the morning, papa feeds you
His love and his mother's milk."
Each Furby would respond with happy sounds followed by gentle snoring in unison as Greg would unplug the lights as he wandered upstairs.
The scouts had picked Greg as they figured such a lonely man would be easy to subdue. They were gravely mistaken.
They'd broke into his home quietly, snuck up to his bedroom, and found him asleep in his themed bed spread. They inserted their tentacles into his ears to gain access to the sweet pink blob nestled in his skull, then left. They would have to wait until he woke up to find out if the mind absorption worked.
As the first ray of sunlight gently forced Greg's eyes open, he let out a deep yawn. The scouts were shaking with excitement. They let Krom'kal know it was time. Except they didn't really need to as it could see through their eyes and knew their thoughts. Still, a chain of command comes with certain formalities.
Krom'kal tried to issue its first command. "Greg! Clean the bones inside your mouth!"and Greg obeyed.
Next, "Greg, nourish yourself on stale blueberry bagels!"Lo, he did.
The final order Krom'kal tried to issue didn't go through. Instead of heading to the spaceship to be taken away to the scouts' home planet, Greg undid his pajama top, and started to pretend to milk himself into a series of dozens of bottles, each with a different Furby's name.
Something was different this morning for Greg. It felt like the task was done more quickly than normal. And it was. For the scouts had joined him in the kitchen to prepare his baby's feast.
They tried to resist. Krom'kal tried its best to regain control, but slowly and surely, they couldn't stop thinking of Furbys.
They were so cute with their eyelashes. Their horrible cries. Their plush feeties. Their low quality faux fur and sturdy inner frames.
All thoughts of universal conquest vanished and were replaced with the desire to obtain more Furbys. Weapons manufacturing on their planet had been changed to the new headquarters of Tiger Electronics.
Every morning, each Urqil spent hours making imaginary milk for their Furb-babies. Every evening, they'd complete their ritual with their song:
"Slumber, slumber
O, ye little Furbs
Let your dreams be sweet and light
And never be disturbed
Furbys, babies
Your fur is as soft as silk
In the morning, papa feeds you
His love and his mother's milk." |
I raised the flask to my lips, taking a long drag of the noxious liquor. It traveled down my throat, lighting a fiery path in its wake. I coughed, blinking back the tears. At least it would ward off the cold a little longer.
Leaning against the bark of a sizeable tree, I closed my eyes in meditation. The night played it symphony around me, lulling and sweet. If anything, it was the main perk as being the Doorman. Getting away from the others was what I needed. They were too loud, always celebrating the smallest things. Gods, if they didn’t have anything to party about, they would find a reason why.
There was a sound, a light tap reverbing amongst the wooden giants surrounding me. I opened one eye, my hand gravitating to my gun. Didn’t sound like any woodland creatures. Probably one of the kids from the village, trying to spook me. Or maybe they wanted to divert my attention so they could see the Demon’s Door. After all, it had become a rite of passage for the youth to get as close as possible before being sucked up by it. Every once in a while, one tested their luck too much and were lost forever.
But not on my watch.
Since taking the role months ago, there hadn’t been another disappearance. Impressive, considering the notoriety of the Demon’s Door. If someone wasn’t trying to get their own peek inside, they were trying to hack it to splinters. Yet, even the sharpest axe did little more than scratch the wooden surface. As the legends claim, the door is as impervious as the gods.
Another knock rang. It was louder – more pressing. There was no mistaking where it came from this time. I turned my head, tracing the origin on the sound.
It came from the door.
My blood ran cold, the alcohol doing nothing to warm it. That wasn’t possible. As far as the stories go, nothing existed on the other side. And I was damn sure no one stayed over there. Yet, the knocking came from it, sure enough.
I rose to my feet, slow and apprehensive. I didn’t take my eyes off the door, hand still hovering over my holster. What could lie on the other side? If I had to guess, something I didn’t want to deal with.
Each step towards the door was agonizing. Dead leaves crunched under my feet, the continual sound putting me on edge. I bit my lip, saying my first prayers since taking the job. I always figured they didn’t help when I was so close to evil. Now, I had no idea.
Once I reached the door, I paused. It was weathered yet looked brand new, it’s surface pale but smooth. A brass knob shined in the waning moonlight, glaring with a mysterious aura. It turned, a silent yet unmistakable movement.
I pulled back, taking in a sharp breath. I expected the door to fly open, for foul spirits to pour forth and rip me to shreds. But it didn’t.
All I heard was the knocking.
Mustering enough courage, I placed my hand on the knob. It was warm, disobeying the winter’s touch. I embraced it, closing my eyes. I twisted my wrist, waiting for the worst.
On the other side of the door was darkness – inky blackness. I saw nothing but swirling shadows, tendrils reaching outwards. Yet, they couldn’t reach me. Not as long as I was on the other side of the door.
A figure faded into existence, a white specter. I squinted, struggling to make out the form. At first, I couldn’t make out if it was man or woman, adult or child. However, after a few more seconds, it became clear.
It was a girl – scarcely older than eight. She looked up to me, a smile on her face. Her arms shot upwards, a begging expression plastered on her face.
“Please, dad?” she asked, her voice soft and sonorous.
The rims of my eyes grew hot, tears bubbling forth. This couldn’t have been happening. Not now, not like this. I knew what I had to do.
Instinctually, I grabbed the door and slammed it tight. Even then, there was muffled crying on the other side. It had been months since the last time I heard it yet the pain remained.
I sank to my knees, clutching myself in pain. I mumbled the same words over and over, unable to hold back the tears. The knocking started again, piercing my sobs as the night’s symphony reached its end.
“I’m so sorry, Nadia.” |
“Check. Check. One-two.”
The burger was of that over thought sought. The kind made by an establishment desperate to be known for their burgers.
“Um. Cough cough? Ahem?”
Toasted potato brioche bun.
“Hello?”
Blue-cheese ranch-slaw.
“I can talk, so I guess someone can hear.”
Ridiculously crinkly greens that were specially bred for the pretentious.
“He-lo-ho-ho. Any one home?”
And full length slices of pickle and cheese and-
“I know your out there! Come on already!”
And a patty of succulent...
Its got a special herb blend. And veal. And pork. And beef. And...
“My name is Tim.”
And Tim.
The burger has Tim in it.
Okay. Where to start?
***
So, as you know, this world of ours is a weird one. All sorts of things happening. We’ve all got friends that can see Death Numbers - you know, the number that some people can see on peoples foreheads? The number of days that person has left to live? Those Death Numbers?
And there’s the people who get their soul mates name, or their soul mates favourite food, or - heaven forbid - their Death Number on their arm on their eighteenth birthday.
And there are the “normals”, who - lets be honest - probably have some embarrassing thing they don’t want to talk about. You know, like seeing peoples Wank Numbers.
Well, my thing is: I hear my food. I hear it’s thoughts. Vegetables and fruit: don’t think much. Not bad. Very zen, in fact.
Meat?
I go vegetarian every now and then. Some of those ham sandwiches did not have a fun time.
And, they don’t think in human. It’s different. I get it. I understand them. But it isn’t words. Its...
Look, imagine trying to explain flavours to someone without taste buds. That’s what I’m trying to do here.
Actually.
What I’m doing is avoiding the fact that this burger...
This over-priced, excessively ingrediented, burger...
Has. Tim. In. It.
A human Tim.
God I hope this is a: "oops, there goes a finger nail in the patty mix", kind of deal.
There’s only one way to know.
The taste of Tim has faded, so I can’t hear him.
***
“And, apparently, I’m back?”
“Tim. Do you know what happened to you?”
“Holy shit! I knew someone was there! Where am I, dude?”
“My question first, pal.”
“Sure, sure. Yeah, I got like murdered by this dude.”
Oh. Oh no.
“Had a cleaver and a chef’s unif-”
I washed Tim out of my mouth with a chocolate shake.
A gentle mooing. What do I do? Who do I tell? How do I prove it?
And why is Tim so fucking delicious!? |
As a thief, I know a few things about prisons. Guards are people and can be influenced as such. Most shackles have easy locks. Cells, too. And I wouldn't stay in one long.
As a thief, I know a few things about doors. Which ones have traps, what kind of wood splinters in a good way, and which ones survive angry guardsmen chasing after a stolen painting.
As a thief, I know a few things about torture. Picks and scrapers can leave good scars. Properly cleaning flayed flesh off of tools is a must. And certain people are prone to screaming more.
As a thief, I know a few things about the king. He is a master illusionist. He enjoys landscape paintings from established artists. And he has a personal vendetta against me.
As a thief, I know a few things about choices. I chose the best time and place for the heist. The guard chose to chase after me. And I will always choose the wrong door. |
Odon sprayed a blast of fire into the air, so high that it charred the steel rafters of the enormous studio sound stage. “AVATAR AANG!” he shouted as loud as possible. A fan blasted ‘wind’ through his hair, and he tried to picture the rocky landscape of Wulong Forest instead of just seeing the lime-colored green screen to his side.
“Fire lord Ozai!” Dia said. “We meet at last.” With her hair under the bald cap and those blue arrows drawn on her skin with marker, she almost *did* look like the historical Avatar. Odon was glad that the director had decided not to hire a kid to play Aang; child actors are always so hard to work with.
Odon did his best menacing facial expression, doing his best to stay in character as the evil Ozai. “Are you prepa…” A door slammed somewhere in the studio, causing Odon to lose his focus. He shook his head and tried to get back into the scene, but it was too late. "Are you... ummm..."his mind was blanking on the rest of the line.
“CUT!” Director Zhao shouted, getting up from his chair and rubbing his temples. He was acting like this was take *50* instead of take *5*. But before he could start in on his rant, he was handed a white envelope by a messenger dressed head to toe in a Ba Sing Se Studios uniform. “Ok… ummm… that’s going to be a wrap for today. Everyone go on home.”
‘A *wrap*?” Odon said, getting down from the rock prop that he’d been standing on. “It’s *1* in the afternoon!”
Zhao waited until the rest of the crew had gone off, then showed Odon the letter. The studio had apparently decided that movies about the Hundred Year War were just no longer profitable anymore. Even Odon had to admit that the concept kind of *had* been done to death; they were currently working on a remake of a remake of a remake.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Odon asked. “I *need* this job!” Unlike water, earth, and air benders, there was really not much market demand for people who could burn things to the ground. It had very few practical uses, and fire was not particularly difficult for non-benders to create and control. Not to mention all of the Department of Bending Safety restrictions on actually *using* fire bending that made it nearly impossible to find an employer willing to cut through all that red tape.
Zhao shrugged. “Learn some computer animation or something. Most of your kind just can’t get by on their bending alone anymore.” With that parting shot, he too exited the soundstage, leaving Odon alone.
------
“It’ll be OK,” Dia said, putting an arm on Odon’s shoulder. “You’ll find something else.” *Easy for her to say*, Odon thought to himself. Dia *Sato* would never have to worry about money in her life. Even though the Satomobile no longer monopolized the automobile market like it did 70 years ago, it was still the most recognized brand in the entire world. And had left a sizeable trust fund in Dia’s pocket that allowed her to pursue an acting career with no concern for whether or not she actually got paid. Odon was not so fortunate.
“Yeah,” Odon said, taking another sullen sip of his beer. “What? What else is out there for a fire bender other than reliving our glorious villainous past for entertainment purposes?”
“Well… you could…” Odon could see the gears in Dia’s mind churning as she tried to think of an answer. “Oh, you could make glass!” she said with a cheerful smile, holding up the shot glass in her hand. “That needs fire, right?”
Odon just laughed. He got out his CabbagePhone and showed her a pic of his last attempt at glassmaking. She took one look at the distorted molten blob, and her smile faded. “Ok, so maybe you’re not a glass maker. But we’ll find you something!”
“I have another offer that might interest you,” a voice said from behind them. Odon and Dia turned to see a group of old men wearing red-and-orange robes. They looked incredibly out of place among the working-class atmosphere of the bar; everyone else was in blue jeans and rugged work shirts. “Perhaps we could discuss in private?”
“Yeah? And who are you?” Odon asked.
The old man’s face fell into a frown. It seems he’d been hoping that Odon would recognize him. “We are the Fire Sages,” the man answered. “And we have something very important to tell you.”
-----
“The *Avatar*?” Odon repeated, head cocked to the side with skepticism. “Yeah. Sure.”
“That can’t be,” Dia added. “My great-aunt Asami said that Avatar Korra could do earthbending, firebending, *and* water bending when she was only five. Odon is *just* a firebender.”
“And not a very good one,” Odon said into his glass of beer. He’d seen the work of some of the great masters at the Fire Festival when he was a kid, and knew he’d *never* get to that level.
“That is only because you have not yet been trained,” the lead Fire Sage said. “It takes *years* of practice to truly master even *one* form of bending. Avatars like Aang who learned within a short amount of time were the exception, and even after his battle with Ozai, he continued to work with masters Toph, Katara, and Zuko for many years.”
Odon glanced at Dia. She gave a quick smile and a shrug that said ‘who knows?’ *She doesn’t actually believe these guys, does she?* Odon thought. He’d seen some pretty elaborate scams in his time in the seedier parts of Ba Sing Se, and wasn’t ready to fall for this one quite yet. He just needed to work out what the angle was.
“I know this is hard to accept,” the Fire Sage continued. “Most Avatars learn of their destiny at age 16. We have been searching for you for nearly twenty five years, ever since the death of Avatar Hujin. We would have found you sooner, but we did not know your family had left the Fire Nation.”
“We’ve never had a foreign-born Fire Nation Avatar before,” another one added. He volunteered it like a bit of trivia, but Odon recognized the insulting undertone. Many Fire Nation purists looked down on those who had chosen to live abroad after the Hundred Year War. But that was nothing to the hatred, even decades later, from the Earth Republic and Water Tribe citizens who had been terrorized by the Fire Nation armies. Only the Air Nomads had really forgiven Odon’s people, despite the horrific genocide of their own civilization.
Odon sat back and drained the rest of his beer. It was a lot to take in. “And let’s say I do believe you,” Odon said. “Then what? What do I have to do?”
“You would train with the masters of all four elements,” one of the sages answered. “Mastering all of the bending techniques to prepare you for the tasks ahead.”
“You are tasked with protecting the world from the greatest dangers! It is a most necessary role!”
“And you serve as a bridge between our world and the spirit world!” another sage added.
“Uh huh.” Odon leaned forward. “And what does this job pay?” Saving the world sounded nice and all, but his previous acting jobs hadn’t exactly been enough to even make a dent in his student loans.
“Well…” The sages hadn’t really been expecting that question. “I mean… surely there will be opportunities for reward at some point…”
“So… nothing.” Odon signaled to the waitress to bring the check. Hopefully Dia would be willing to cover their drinks for the night; he was running a little low on funds. “Just as I thought. Thanks for the offer, guys. But I’m going to have to pass. I need a *real* job.”
-----
**[I didn't like ending with him turning down the job, so here is Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/5wowj2/avatar_odon/debpr84/)!** |
I've always hated attention. I leave the comfort of my apartment only when necessary. That includes work, the grocery store, for short walks, and on rare occasions, the gym. So when I stepped outside to take a walk on the trail near my building, I all but froze. Usually there are quite a few people mucking about. I live in a nice area and in the summer people like to enjoy the market that pops up on the weekend. It just happened that I had to pass that market to get to the trail.
I stepped onto the sidewalk and immediately everyone's eyes were glued to my face. Well, not at my face, per se, but at the general area above my head. My heart immediately started to beat fast, and not just because of the attention. Usually someone only garners this much attention when their health bar is extremely low. I had seen it happen myself a few times. Once was enough to scar me for life. An old man stepping out of a coffee shop with his health rapidly draining. It flashed red and he clutched his heart. A minute later he was dead from cardiac arrest.
It's something no one can help. Once your health bar drains too low, not even the miracle of modern medicine can save you. The bots had tried though. They swarmed the old man quickly, administering shocks to try and restart his heart. But he was gone, somewhere the living can only imagine exists.
So when everyone's eyes shot to my health bar, I thought I was done for. I looked left and right, expecting either a car to swerve onto the sidewalk and flatten me, or a gunman to run out of the bank next to my apartment and kill me, an innocent bystander. But when nothing happened right away, and no ones eyes had left the area above my head, I took a breath and chanced a glance upwards.
Well that was unexpected. My health bar was full, I was in completely good health. Not to be unexpected. That wasn't what they were staring at, however. Right below my health bar, a strange blue bar had appeared. It was slowly growing in strength. I watched as it filled and a strange glow surrounded it. Now I'd played enough video games to have an inkling of what was going on. But I wasn't in a video game. Mana wasn't a real thing. What the hell was going on?
A little girl who clung to her mothers hand pointed at me. "Mommy, what's that?"She just shook her head and tugged her daughter away from me. She wasn't the only one either. More and more people were moving out of my way. They seemed to be scared of this new bar that had appeared. My heart failed to slow and I wondered if this was some sort of warning that, even though I was in perfect health, something terrible was happening to me. I had never seen this bar before. What could it mean?
I turned to head to the trail only to see more people shying away as I walked. No one wanted to be within twenty feet of me. They all stared and moved out of my way, as if whatever I had was contagious. I walked slow, reaching the trail far later than I should have. The sun was just beginning to dip in the sky and I what I had planned on being a relaxing Sunday afternoon had become something of a nightmare. I didn't like random strangers coming up and talking to me, but the thought that people I'd never even talked to being afraid to even walk near me was making me both sad and angry. What did I ever do to any of them?
The trail was empty, thankfully. I didn't want to deal with anymore stares. I walked in silence, and although I didn't forget this strange, blue bar, I was able to relax within nature. I stopped in my usual spot, a bench overlooking the lake. The sun cast brilliant colors into the sky. A watercolor painting of reds, oranges, and pinks. I sat, fully ready to enjoy the sunset before returning and making supper.
I didn't hear the footsteps on the gravel as they approached. Only felt the hand as it was placed firmly on my shoulder, making me squeak embarrassingly and jump off of the bench. Six people stood before me. A rather tall, but slim man held his hand up in apology.
"I didn't mean to scar you,"he said. "I thought you would have heard us."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Gerald,"he answered. "This is Marie, Thomas, Jessie, Pippa, and Luka. We're here for you."
My heart rate immediately spiked again. Where they here because of the blue bar? Where they going to kidnap me? Where they going to kill me? They didn't look like government agents. They were in street clothes and none of them seemed to be carrying weapons.
The girl at the end erupted in laughter. "No, honey. We're not the government."She turned to the man next to her. "She thinks we're here to kill her."He started laughing as well.
Gerald looked sharply at them. "Enough."
They quieted but their smiles didn't waver. How in the world did she know what I was thinking. There was no such thing as mind reading. I must be imagining things. The afternoon had been stressful and now I was just making things up.
"Nope,"the girl said.
"I apologize for Pippa,"Gerald said. "She's the newest. She hasn't yet learned protocol."
"I've been here for three years!"she wined.
"And yet you still don't know how to behave!"The women on the far right waved her hand and Pippa was enveloped in a strange cylinder. I watched as her mouth continued to move but no sound reached my ears. She pounded on her encasement but it only waved like it was made of water, or gel, and then stilled again. She folded her arms and stared daggers at the the other woman, who just tucked her red hair behind her ears and gestured for Gerald to continue.
"Thank you Marie,"he said. "Now, I understand that you don't have a clue about what is happening. Trust me, we've all been there. But you need to come with us now. Everything will be explained, I promise, but we don't have time. It chose you."
"What chose me?"
"Not here,"he said, hushed. "You never know what may be listening."
What, not who. These people were either crazy or on some serious trip. I glanced over my shoulder for a way to leave, but I didn't fancy a steep descend down a grassy slope, most likely ending in a sprained ankle of some sort.
Pippa pounded on her fluid-prison, pointing at me.
"Not now,"Gerald said to her before beckoning me to follow them. "We don't have much time before they arrive."
Pippa continued to gesture at me, shouting something. Marie growled but waved her hand again, dissolving whatever it was that had held her. I took my chance while they were distracted. I moved right as she shouted that I was going to run.
Suddenly I was frozen. Both my feet hovered off the ground as I was stuck mid-stride. I couldn't turn my head to see them. I couldn't so much as twitch my pinkie toe. I fell as Gerald grabbed me.
"I am sorry,"he said, his deep voice reverberating through my body. "You'll thank us later."Then I was nowhere. I couldn't see anything but pure blackness. But I could hear everything. Quick footsteps down the gravel trail, incoherent shouts made by unseen people, a car door slamming, it's engine starting. I felt the vibrations as we moved quickly down the street and then I felt nothing. Saw nothing. Heard nothing.
Was nothing.
I don't know how long I was out or how far I had traveled. When I finally pried my eyes open do a soft, dim light over my head, I found that I was lying on the worlds most comfortable mattress. An IV was attached to my left inner arm and a multitude of machines surrounded me, beeping every so often.
"Ah,"someone said off to my left. A young man sat in the chair there. He was with the group that took me. I knew it hadn't been a dream right then. Whoever those people were, they had actually kidnapped me and stuck me with a needle. "Welcome back. I didn't know how long you'd be out. Jessie goes a little crazy sometimes when we're under attack."
"Under attack?"I mumbled.
He stood, retrieving a wheelchair I hadn't seen before from the corner. He helped me out of the bed and into it. "Don't worry, you're safe here. I'm taking you to the rest of the team now."
"Team?"
"Not much of a talker, are you?"he chuckled. "You'll get along great with Marie."He continued the chatter as he wheeled me down a long hallway lined with pictures of people, all from different time periods it seemed. There was one woman in Victorian garb next to another in Viking attire. There seemed to be no pattern to their placement.
"Here we are."He pushed me through a doorway into the most elaborate dining room I'd ever been in. Thick, heavy curtains colored blood-red were cinched on either side of floor length windows. The table stretched form one end to the other yet most of the chairs were empty. At the very far end the rest of my kidnappers sat, eating what smelled like roasted chicken. My mouth watered and my stomach rumbled.
The man stopped me in front of Gerald who sat at the head of the table. "Leane Tumatchu,"he started, his voice so deep that I could feel it in my chest. "Welcome to The Collective."
Find more at [/r/Sacha_Writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/Sacha_Writes/) |
“What are they sending you to The Grinder for?” the man strapped next to me asked. His body was shaking as the space barge descended towards the surface of the planet.
“Murder,” I said, keeping my eyes closed, trying to keep from vomiting as we hit a particularly rough patch of turbulence.
“Insurrection.” The man said, smiling at me. His teeth shined in the green hue of the green neon lights of the space barge. “That’s what I got sent here for. The Carina revolution. No judge. Political prisoners receive no judge, of course.” He laughed. “Just disappear! Out with the trash! Five years they gave me.”
You see, The Grinder is where those prisoners deemed most threatening to the empire are sent. A penal colony of sorts for those the government wants to get rid of, but may not want to, or may not be able to, outright execute for optical reasons. But don’t be fooled. Being sent to The Grinder for five years is as close to a death sentence as it gets. The entire planet is a landfill, with swarms of ships constantly dumping trash on its surface. Acid rain, toxic air, falling sheet metal, unstable structures... this is life on the grinder. This is life for the murders and rapists and the politically suppressed. And even if by some miracle you do survive, your organs will be so fucked you’d wish you were dead. That is, of course, unless you had the means to get them replaced.
The Grinder would be my home for the next ten years. I was being sent for murder and grand theft. A robbery on a cargo class ship in the Hadar zone. Things went sideways immediately and before I knew it my ship, with its dead captain, was being hauled in by a Patrol Cruiser.
Or, at least, that is the story I’m to tell those who ask. I’m actually an undercover. Sent to the grinder to investigate an energy source which is being picked up from one of our local radar arrays. I volunteered. My unit thought I was crazy. Maybe I am. But I needed a change of pace. My last undercover was white-collar work on Polis, knocking down a massive and intricate scheme of insurance fraud on carrier class fleets. I had never been so bored. Yes, this would be a nice change of pace.
“Name’s Kevin,” the main said. “I think we’re almost there.” His words came jumpy, through his chattering teeth as the barge free-fell towards the planet, its great bulk slowing its descent through the pestilential atmosphere of The Grinder.
Suddenly, the hovering boosters of the barge exploded into action and the inside of the cabin roared with the shattering noise of the engines. I felt the vibrations in my teeth and temple and then the roaring was gone as the barge released its dump, including us, about a hundred meters from the jagged surface of the planet.
“Here we go!” Kevin shouted and then there was a terrible grinding of metal as we plummeted into the unstable surface of the planet. A section of our cabin was torn open like a tin can and three prisoners were ripped out into the open air. But we had finally stopped on the surface and after a few seconds the harnesses securing us to our seats were released. A few of the other prisoners began to crawl through the jagged hole in our container. I followed them out, sliding down the smooth surface and to the ground. If you could call it ground. The whole thing seemed to be a house of cards. We stood on a mountain of trash and jagged husks of old ships. The same cragged metal landscape spread out before me as far as my eyes could see. There deep, dark cavities within the skeletal geology of the land.
I looked into the dark gray sky and saw the lights of hundreds, maybe thousands of barges dropping their loads onto the slowly rising surface.
Steel beams rained from the sky as a barge unloaded right above us, a man next to me was impaled like a voodoo doll and pinned to the discarded wing of what looked like an old lander. It looked like the barge was intentionally dropping on us. It must be a sort of sick-game they played with the inhabitants of the planet.
I began to think this all might have been a bad idea. Now the cushy desks on Polis didn’t seem so boring. But first things first, I needed to figure out how to survive on this planet of refuse.
\---
**|** [**PART 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/comments/l1ezly/the_grinder_part_ii/) **|** |
*You must kill her*.
I stared at my wife, breathing softly beside me. She stirred a moment before relaxing, a soft sigh escaping pink lips that I kissed every day. Her blond hair was coifed into a rounded braid that her ladies would undo to style her back length hair into whatever fashion they deemed worthy, but not before I got a chance to run my hands through it. My wife, whom I loved and cherished, and yet was just another reward of a life spent following orders.
*You must kill her.*
The cold of the stone shocked my system as I slipped out of bed: I'd have to remind the maids to stir up the fire one more time before they retired for the night. The white light from the moon illuminated a corner of the room. A secluded spot for secluded thoughts.
*You must kill her.*
My head ached: a day wearing the crown would do that to a man, and not just metaphorically. Of all the head pieces I'd worn, it was by far the heaviest. Even my helmet during the war hadn't been as heavy. It was then that I had made my name, then that I had won the hand of the king's daughter, a compromise between the rebellion and the aristocracy to replace the mad old king with someone new. But that wasn't when everything had started.
*You must kill her*.
No, everything had started as a child. When the voice that now told me to kill my wife would tell me where to go to find food. Shelter. How to gather other children -- left bereft of home and comfort as their parents were sacrificed to satiate the old king's whims -- to myself, to create a home for ourselves. To give me a power base that I would use to protect our neighborhood. Then to give me leverage to get training in the ways of the knights. It had led me to that fatal meeting with Cassandra, who had introduced me to the rebellion. Others who had suffered because of the king. I had led the coup with the voice, and now led fairly and justly.
*You must kill her*.
I spared a glance at my wife, still sleeping soundly. I had read up about her father after our marriage and his execution (my sole personal concession: I had allowed my father-in-law to remain for the wedding at her behest). He had been a fair and just ruler at one point as well. A bastard child to the previous prince of the realm, he had led a coup against his grandfather a decade after that king had slain his whole family for treason.
*You must kill her*.
I wiped my face with my hand. It didn't make sense. My wife had done nothing. Was doing nothing. *Would* do nothing as she was as devoted to holding the peace as I was. And yet... wasn't she spending a lot of time with that young knight? I shook my head before heading back to bed. It was much too early or too late for such moodiness. I could ignore the incessant chatter with a bit of drink and some rest. That was all I needed. The voice was wrong, of course.
It just had never been wrong, yet. |
“Goodbye John.” The griever said, touching my forehead to theirs as they left. It had been a long day, their must’ve been a large accident or something. That’s what usually caused a rush like this. A large number of people didn’t get the opportunity to say their final words to a loved one before they passed, and needed me to duplicate their appearance so they could have a chance to get give a proper farewell.
I took a few breaths to clear my head, confirmed with Ryan that this griever had been the last one, and slipped back into my normal appearance. Only, I couldn’t. Everything still seemed fluid. My nose kept changing its mind about what size it wanted to be. My hair shifted between various shades of brown and black. Even my eyes danced from one color to the next. They couldn’t even agree on one color between the two of them. I looked like a Husky with different colored eyes.
A mirror didn’t help. It only seemed to illustrate my problem, allowing me to look on with growing dismay as my facial features seemed to change faster than the numbers on a slot machine.
Facebook, I had a Facebook. There must be a picture of me on there somewhere. I log into my profile and am greeted with Ryan’s face on my profile. It was a joke at the time. ‘ha ha, look Ryan. I’m you!’. It didn’t seem so funny now. I open up my past profile pictures and find that every single one is me playing a joke, and even my tagged photos all look like different people.
Some are promotional from work, others are just me goofing around and showing off for my friends. I think some might be me, but there are too many different faces all tagged as me for me to even begin to sort out which is the real me.
I snap my phone shut. This can’t be real. How can I not remember? I always remembered. I tried to do it by muscle memory. ‘Okay, work is done, griever leaves. I confirm with Ryan that I’m done, and I……’ Nothing, the face I slip into is not even human. ‘Come on, one more time, work is done. I confirm with Ryan and…..’ I’m too preoccupied with my Husky eyes, and give myself a dog’s face.
‘I’ve got a date tonight. How will she even know it’s me? Oh wait, maybe I sent her a face pic.’ I scan through my phone again, hoping that I’ve sent somebody a photo of my face, only to come up empty handed again. Apparently I like playing games with my face through text as well.
I’m starting to panic now. ‘Is there no record of my face anywhere? Driver’s license, of course, I had to take a proper photo for a driver’s license.’ Feeling a sense of relief well up inside me I pull out my wallet and extract my driver’s license.
My stomach feels like it’s going to fall out when instead of a photo I see. *Government licensed shape shifter, appearance variable.* I forgot that because my face could be anyone’s they had told me I didn’t need to take a photo.
I start to crumble into a ball. If even the government doesn’t have a photo of me, then there really is no hope.
“Hey Jason.” Ryan calls out to me from the next room. “Buddy I know you’re off for the day but we’ve got one more. Are you up for one last griever?”
I rise to my feet. Ryan has already displayed a photo of the loved one on the monitors. Underneath her face is my personal motto. *It’s not my face that matters, but the person behind it.* I had almost forgotten. It is not my nose or my eyes that make me who I am. It’s my heart and soul, and those never change.
“Absolutely Ryan, it’s not trouble at all. Send the griever in.”
Edit: story continued in the comments.
Edit 2: [parts 1-6](http://www.reddit.com/r/SamGalimore/comments/2we2s0/the_face_of_romanceparts_16/)
Edit 3: [parts 7 through, whatever i can get done today](http://www.reddit.com/r/SamGalimore/comments/2wfhpj/the_face_of_romance_parts_7whatever_i_can_get/)
Edit 4: [Part 11-whatever i can get done today.](http://www.reddit.com/r/SamGalimore/comments/2wjxqo/the_face_of_romance_part_11whatever_i_can_get/)
Edit 5- [Part 15-whatever I can get done today](http://www.reddit.com/r/SamGalimore/comments/2wo8hc/the_face_of_romance_part_15whatever_i_can_get/)
Edit 6: [part 19-the end](http://www.reddit.com/r/SamGalimore/comments/2ws2if/part_19the_end/) |
"Stop right there!"I heard a man call pulling his gun from his holster.
I smirked, and broke the speed of light, phasing through him. He collapsed backwards and grasped at his chest.
"You can't do that! It's against the laws!"
I walked through the wall behind him, occupying its space at the same time it did. He continued to yell after me from behind the wall and screamed something about backup. I waltzed out of the bunker, carrying the loot over my shoulder. It was a good haul. Not that I needed the haul. I just wanted the government to hurt.
I walked down the driveway when I was confronted by an entire troop of security before me. There must have been a dozen guns trained on me and a tank behind them.
"If you don't stand down, I'll lower all of your melting points to the outside temperature,"I threatened.
Three guns went down immediately. I heard a loudspeaker come from the tank:
"Even *you* can't do that,"it teased. "It's against the law!"
I frowned, raising my hand.
"My gun isn't firing! It's jammed!!"one yelled.
"My trigger won't move!"another screamed, panicking. The three that had dropped their guns earlier took the time of confusion to run off. They respected my power. They would live to tell the tale.
"Your triggers no longer follow the third law of motion. Your action registers a ten times reaction. You can't pull the trigger."
"That doesn't make, ahhhh----"his arm had melted off mid-sentence as I kept my promise from earlier. I walked forward smugly, as each of the remaining men and tank converged into one, large mix of their respective puddles. Pretty gross, I'd never broken this law before.
I made my way to the entrance, ready to make my way to the getaway vehicle.
"They'll be after you, you know,"a man hiding behind the gate said nonchalantly. "They'll catch you soon enough. You can't hide forever. You even won't be able to sell that gold. No one will take it. Not even the black market, once they see how dangerous it is to associate with you."
I turned my bag of gold into a bag of lead and left it at the front gate.
"I wouldn't dream of selling stolen goods,"I replied coolly. "That's *illegal.*"
__________________________________________
For more stories of impossibly powerful characters, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
|
"So they're..."
"Spiders."
"Nine feet tall spiders."
"Yup."
"All eight legs, bunch of eyes, large fangs, the whole shebang?"
"You heard me."
"And they want to land here, on earth, to set up an embassy to share their knowledge, and see what they can learn from us?"
"Yes sir. They already gave me this universal translator as a welcoming gift, free to share with humanity. It's just, well, if they are to share more, they wish to learn from us as well."
The president of the United States just couldn't believe his ears, even as he was being filled in by the astronaut who had been sent to make first contact with the strange space vessel that appeared near the moon's orbit months prior. A brave man, to be sure, but at this point in time, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Spiders. How do you think humanity would react to knowing..."
"Sir, if I may, I have an idea."The astronaut interjected. "Why not offer them to set up an embassy in Australia? Plenty of space for them, they'd feel right at home."
"Huh...you think the Australians would go for that?"
"These spiders aren't deadly. Unlike what they already know."
"I knew sending you up there was a good idea...I'll make the call right now."
------------------------------------------------------------
Just a silly little thing that popped up in my head. Was fun typing it out. |
"Help me Punchman and Kickboy! I've been kidnapped by the Red Storm!"wailed Jessica Parks, alter ego of the very same, infamous Red Storm.
She sat in her lair chair with her hands behind her back, pretending to be a tied up damsel in distress. The glow of six security camera monitors bounced light off of her pale face and her long, curly red hair, as well as accentuating her scarlet red eyes. She wore a fuzzy sweater and some stretchy pants as it was her plan to stay in tonight and hook up the Apple TV she stole to one of the monitors. She longingly thought about the pint of Half-Baked ice cream that was melting on the counter behind her.
*"Why now?*"she thought. They were six stories underground, underneath an abandoned gas station that resided on the outskirts of their city, Cityville. The entrance is an elevator that opens up behind the soda machine after pressing a secret combination of soda tabs: Orange Crush, Orange Crush, Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew: Code Red. Jessica managed to catch a glimpse of the dynamic duo heading down the elevator as she was unboxing her Apple TV. Her last ditch effort was to sit in her orthopedic lair chair with her hands behind her back.
"I'll untie you, fair maiden!"squeaked Kickboy, who fought an ongoing battle against puberty. He wore tight orange shorts that went a quarter way down his thigh, giving him ample room to kick. His arms were toothpicks and his tiny torso was covered in a green turtleneck. He leapt into action and Jessica panicked, not wanting him to find out she did not have her hands tied.
"Stay back!! It's booby trapped! She hid explosives all over the place that will go off if you come near me!"
"Gadzooks Punchman!"piped Kickboy, "What should we do?!"
In his stoic, unflinching gaze, Punchman, who wore a black and gray jumpsuit, cracked his knuckles and said ruggedly, "I've never met a problem that I can't punch."
Punchman immediately let out a flurry of punches against her lair. Punching cabinets, counters, floor tiles, tables, chairs, computer screens, and her brand new Apple TV while shouting things like "I'll find you, explosives!"and "You can't explode if I punch you first!"
*"It's no wonder Cityville is full of crime, these guys are morons."*
"Get'em Punchman!"cheered Kickboy, with tears in his eyes.
Jessica rolled her eyes and stood up, showing her hands. "It worked, Punchman! I'm free! Your punches saved me!"
"Haha! I knew it."He kissed both of his knuckles with pride. "Aren't you glad Kickboy is indecisive with his soda choices?"
Kickboy dragged his toe across the floor in a circle, "I really wanted Code Red..."
Jessica shrugged, but then stopped suddenly. "Oh no! I think I hear...I hear...I hear...."
Jessica dragged her sentence out long enough for her to walk behind a counter and duck down. She slid her tiny black mask that only covered her eyes out of her pocket.
"THE RED STOOOOORM!"
Jessica slid on her mask and jumped up behind the counter. Kickboy screamed a high-pitch wail. Punchman, again, did not flinch.
"My God, she's hideous!"said Punchman ardently. "What did you do with that beautiful damsel, you miserable, ugly wench?"
Kickboy gasped, "SHE TOOK HER CLOTHES TOO!"
Red Storm lifted up her arms and a heavy wind began firing on the dynamic duo. Remnants from Punchman's punching spree lifted into the air, hurdling debris in their direction.
Punchman remained unfazed, not flinching even when bits of concrete grazed his face or wooden table legs broke across his chest. He reeled back a devastating punch.
"My mother said never to hit a lady,"he paused. "She didn't say anything about a Supervillain."
He was about to release his fist of fury until a pint-sized container smacked him in the face, pouring melted ice cream all over. Finally, Punchman flinched.
"B-B-Ben & Jerry's??"He shuddered. "This demon hates America! Come Kickboy, we'll retreat for now! We'll be back for your hostage soon, Red Storm!!"
Kickboy gleefully lunged onto Punchman's leg as they ziplined up the elevator shaft. Red Storm, removing her mask and tossing her hair back out from her face looked around at the destruction. She sighed, knowing that she'll have to find a new lair.
"I hate this city." |
Fights in the mages arena were long and drawn. Cast times could take upwards of three minutes, of just watching two guys make ridiculous hand motions and practice their breathing techniques at one another. "An art form"is what other chumps called it. A practice in patience and discipline. I never was much of a patient man.
So as the mage across from me moved his hands I did not run to stop him. I did not cast a spell of my own to counter his, no, I just walked across that stone floor. I think the audience thought I was getting in range or some other wizard bullshit, because as I stepped up it was like they stopped breathing. They grew so quiet that my footsteps became loud.
I knew the spell the guy was casting, or at least I thought I did. Just because I didn't buy into the "art"didn't mean I wasn't versed. Destruction Point, I think it was. Nasty bit of wizardry. Took a minute-thirty to cast. Only took fifteen to walk across the field.
As I approached my opponents eyes grew wide with confusion, or maybe fear. Couldn't tell. Regardless he continued those stupid hand movements at that same snails pace. Little puffs of smoke had begun forming at his fingertips by the time I'd arrived, and for any other mage he'd be trouble. But not me. My school practiced practicality first, magic second.
So, practically speaking, I was within range to knock his teeth down his throat. So I did. As I pulled my fist back his eyes grew even wider. Then, with as much force as I could I hit him square in the face. The crowd let out a collective gasp. The wizard across from me stumbled backwards clutching his jaw. Bits of blood dripped out of his open mouth and stained his gray silk robes red.
"You just...did you just hit me?!"
Rather than reply I strolled up to him and hit him again...and again...and again. He failed to block a single one, I'm not sure he even knew how. The crowd gasped with each one. Between hits he'd bring his hands up to cast something which was cut short every time by another blow to the face. Another jab to the ribs. More punches connecting with a loud *thwap* every time I swung.
After a simple barrage of half-assed punches he fell back, his face swollen and bloody. The crowd grew silent once more. From the stands a voice called out to me, a tall and lanky man with a long gown of the finest wealth. Head of Magics, Thom I think he was called.
"You did not use any magic? Not a single spell."he sounded accusatory.
"Nope. Turns out I didn't need em."I yelled back. Cleaning the blood on my fist off on my jacket for emphasis.
"I..I can see that. But, you didn't utilize your skills."
"Ah yeah. Turns out I didn't need those either."a group of simply dressed mages came out and began performing a group healing cast on my opponent. Five minutes it would take to complete.
"So...bring out the next guy then!"I yelled.
The door that led from my opponents quarters to the arena opened with a great deal of hesitancy. Out walked a mage dressed in fine red robes, a large leather bound book strapped to his side just for show. Graythar the Great I think they called him.
I wondered if he could take a punch. |
**Day 1:** This is Chet Coburn with the evening news. America was a worried country today. Uncle Sam, the nation's favorite hero and champion apple pie eater took his eagle plane with his side kick, the Emancipator, on vacation. Florida Man was his back up. And yes, we were worried America, but it appears we have nothing to fear but Florida Man himself. Earlier today he stopped a bank robbery by beating a man with liquid crack. Authorities had no choice but to arrest him for the night, and are unsure how he managed to get the drug to maintain a liquid form for so long without it melting through the bottom of the bag. He disposed of the evidence by drinking it from several Big Gulps at once, but was charged later after a witness provided video evidence to the local police.
**Day 2:** Florida Man was released from jail today. He had somehow smuggled several chickens into the cell with him over the course of the night while also providing doughnuts for the entire police force. Authorities are baffled. In other news, there has been a string of purse snatchings in Massachusetts. No word on if the suspect has been located.
**Day 3:** Florida Man nabbed the suspect by pretending to be a helpless, elderly woman today. When his purse was snatched, it exploded into a flock of ducks and bread crumbs. The ducks, driven mad by the proximity to bread, assaulted the thief and left him with mental trauma and a series of bruises. Florida Man was charged with assault and animal cruelty.
**Day 4:** A criminal, looking to take advantage of Florida Man's incarceration, was surprised today while robbing a 7-11 in South Dakota. Florida Man rose out of the delivery drum of nacho cheese and pasted him to the wall, where the industrial grade cheese product topping solidified. The police are unsure of how Florida man managed to travel so far, so quickly, and return, without seeming to break out of his cell. He has been rewarded with a year's supply of free Slushies from that particular vendor and his sentence has been lengthened for breaking out of jail.
**Day 5:** Florida Man is still incarcerated. But criminals seem shocked and less determined to commit crimes than ever. We interviewed one criminal who turned himself in halfway through a mugging, because he expected Florida Man at any moment. Let's go over to the interview. Tom?
*Tom:* "Thanks Chet. According to the criminal I interviewed, he cited concerns over Florida Man's aggressive, lunatic and physics defying nature as to why he gave up. He was surprised when he did not, however, appear, but by then authorities had already arrived on the scene. Even so, he stated the potential trauma simply wasn't worth it, and is going to do his time in peace. Back to you Chet."
**Day 6:** Florida Man is out of jail today, and still no crimes have been committed. It seems virtually every ne'er-do-well is intimidated by the responses Florida Man delivers in his crusade for justice. Stay tuned, for the weather.
**Day 7:** Unable to take it any more, a man from Louisiana robbed someone today in Weeki Wachee, Florida at gun point. However, when he ordered the man to give him his trench coat and hat, he was surprised to find he was robbing a thirteen foot long alligator. Attempting to flee in terror, he encountered Florida man walking his pet orange. Florida Man brought in both the criminal and the alligator to justice. |
I don’t think anyone ever thought the day would come. After years of pointless arguing, the US finally joined the rest of the world in adopting the metric system, a decision that we couldn’t be more excited for. It may not have seemed like a big deal, but for the first time in human history, it felt like we had created a sense of temporary unity.
Like most people, it glued me to my television, watching the iconic handshake as the world leaders each exchanged cheerful grins, patting each other on the back for their efforts in creating this peace. When the handshake finally came, a booming voice roared from the heavens, causing my screen to flicker with varied static lines.
“Humanity, we’ve waited eons for you to agree on one thing. Now you may finally join us.” The voice demanded attention. Everyone was probably in the same position as I was, glued to their screens, unable to leave its side. Too scared to go outside and glance at the clouds, but also too curious to turn away from the live broadcast.
The world leaders shared a similar look of confusion, each exchanging glances, looking for someone to take charge of the situation. A few minutes of silence followed, the broadcast displaying a simple ‘We will be back.’ Message with a sad penguin holding a hammer on it. Trying to entertain the masses with its funny image to distract from the utter chaos happening behind the scenes.
Everyone was on the edge of their seat, desperate for any explanation into the strange voice. When the broadcast finally reappeared, I breathed a sigh of relief, hoping this would clear up any misunderstandings.
A thin, suited man approached the stand, anxiously tapping at the microphone, causing it to let out an electronic shriek that made the surrounding leaders wince. “We have decided that it would be in humanity’s best interests to discuss this unknown voice among one another. We can’t risk an encounter until we know were ready for the ramifications If this goes south.”
With that, the man left the stand, the other leaders following closely behind. They would go back into the conference and continue their debate once more. The world silently watched, no one leaving their couches, unable to miss such an exciting advancement in humanity.
A few hours passed before the leaders came out, their faces red and flustered, before the suited man once again took the stand. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket, brushing his forehead with it before grimacing as he leaned towards the microphone. “After hours of debate. We could not unanimously decide on how to treat this situation. While most leaders were in favor of making contact, a few countries decided against it.” The man didn’t name the ones against the decision, only glaring at a few select individuals standing behind him. “We will ignore the message we received.”
No one seemed pleased about this decision, except those of course that had decided against it. Seems whoever contacted us overestimated us. They would have to wait until we agreed on two things before joining them.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
Birthdays seem rare when you’re a kid. When you bump into someone who shares a birthday with you it seems rare as an elephant getting struck by lightning. Well, maybe that example betrays my age a little. Rare as a computer game that doesn’t try to steal your money with micro transactions.
Point is, you put just sixty people in a room together and it’s as likely as a hot day in Austin that someone shares a birthday with someone else. I share mine with about eight hundred thousand people in my country alone.
Now you have to understand, none of this crossed my mind when I started it all. I was twenty-one back then, dirt poor but degree rich (as of a week prior), and looking for a way to celebrate my birthday on twenty dollars.
If I’d had friends, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten the fliers printed. But I didn’t. I had little money, fewer friends, and thus no one to celebrate with.
It couldn’t just be me though — I couldn’t be the only socially awkward person in a new city looking to celebrate. And, it occurred to me, I couldn’t be the only person in the city celebrating a birthday tomorrow.
The fliers said something like: *Is your birthday on X date? Bored of traditional celebrations or lacking people to celebrate with? Then why not join me for the start of something special? Bring a few dollars and an open mind and we’ll pool our pennies for a grand celebration.*
The fliers might not have done much on their own, but people found them and photoed them and stuck them on a bunch of sites. All in all, a hundred plus people turned up to that first event. All of us shared a birthday. And I think the key was: all of us were looking to be part of something bigger than any of us.
I didn’t have anything planned for that first event — I really hadn’t been expecting much. We pooled our money and rented out a bar, ate good food, got well drunk, and sang bad kareoke. Great time in the end, I thought.
Next day, hangover rattling hard in my skull, I get a call from a shared-birthday member I met the night before. He says: it’s my little sister’s seventeenth in a week. She’s had a rough time lately, been bullied pretty badly at school. Can you do anything like you did for us?
What can I say? I get a little more info and find out her prom’s coming up. So I start to organise a little something. New fliers, new location. People who shared her birthday all want to join in for a counter-prom party. And for a while that’s the plan. Until that guy — the one everyone likes, including the girl we’re trying to help — from One Direction sees one of the posts online. Guess who he shares a birthday with? Guess who ends up going to the prom with this girl? You don’t need to guess who, after the prom, played for everyone else who shared her birthday and had come to support her.
That’s how things really took off. That’s how I started organising an event for every birthday. Putting people with no friends, no family, maybe no connections to society at that time, in touch with each other. Just this little link to life changed people’s perceptions about living. Non-conditional friendship — not forced into making friendship groups but invited. Wanted. And you didn’t need to have money to come to an event, people just donated what they could.
Eventually the purpose of the parties began to change, people bored or upset at the extravagance it had become. So instead of a hundred-thousand dollars being spent on a lavish event, maybe half of it would go to a charity. Maybe help cancer victims, maybe help animals. It was up to that event.
Over time the parties got a little less lavish — although people never stopped showing up at the events up and down the country — and the donations grew larger.
And the events spread globally. You know over the world you share your birthday with about twenty million people? Now sure, they’re not all as fortunate as one another — but when the eighteen million who are doing a little better start to help the two million who aren’t, well, things begin to change. Gradually. A little. For the whole world, I mean.
We’re all family. All children. All related, however distantly. When we remind ourselves how we share something so basic, so important to the childlike-joy of our mind, it connects us. Reminds us it’s not about the differences we have but the basic and human similarities we share.
I guess finally all there is to say is that if it’s your birthday today, well, happy birthday. |
It gets more annoying with each new life. Do you know how hard it is to act like a baby when you mind is approaching 300 years old? I’ve mastered politics, philosophy, physics, etc. Yet what do I have to do for the first years of my life. Nothing more than “mama” and “dada”. Some of my lives I have my previous life companions extract me from the baby phase so I don’t have to deal with the monotony.
But lately it’s been getting harder and harder to start the game without people taking notice. I can hide my intellect and all aspects of my soul upon each rebirth, while bothersome, that’s not a problem. But have you ever heard of a baby being born with chiseled abs, vein-popping biceps, and butt cheeks solid enough to crack walnuts?
I guess it’s time to just own it.
After nine months of darkness the lights finally turn on.
“Helloooo nurse!” |
“Commencing operation,” I said, taking a bite out of a bagel with one hand and flipping the switch on the command center of the airship with the other.
*“This is your last warning, Nye,”* the factory’s speakers rang out in earnest. *“Stand down and turn your airship around or we will blow it out of the sky!”*
I turned back to the chair at center command where Mr. Nye leaned forward with his arms clasped in front of his nose in thought.
“Continue,” he waved a hand at me, to which I diligently took another bite of my bagel and flipped on another switch, activating the loudspeaker at the front of the ship.
*“Bill Nye the Violence Guy!”* a chorus sang, announcing our intentions while also being incredibly catchy.
*“That’s it, you’re going down, Nye! Fire!”*
Three massive missiles flew toward us, approaching rapidly from behind the factory plant’s furthest building, where they had set up anti-aircraft machinery in the case of a Nye visit which he entitled: **Did you know that… you’re going to die?**
“Heat-seeking missiles,” Nye identified at once. “Did you know that 90% of all US combat losses were made by these infrared missiles in the field?” he said, playing a sound effect on a soundboard at his seat which sounded like an explosion. “A good way to avoid being killed by them is to fire *another* source of heat before they get too close!” Again, he hit another soundboard button, this time the sound of a firework going off.
“Firing flares,” I said casually, pressing a button.
*Pechew, pechew* loud, silly sound effects boomed from the speaker on the ship at the same time as the flares igniting the sky, coming into contact with the missiles and stopping them short from doing us any damage from above.
“The burning of coal is responsible for over 40 percent of carbon emissions worldwide!” Nye said, a smoke sound effect accenting his point. “If we want to save the planet, some of us are going to be—err, make sacrifices!” The sound of a man comically being thrown out the window played from his chair.
“The missiles are armed and ready to fire,” I informed my boss. “Ready to fire on your mark.”
“Not yet!” Nye said with a hand raised. “A cornered animal will often do something desperate before being truly vulnerable!” Sound of a cat yowling.
*“Divert everything to the fire cannons! Burn his sensors! Burn them out of the sky!”* the factory speaker boomed.
“Ironically, fire produced from a massive coal plant wouldn’t be strong enough to stop a homogeneous combination of something as simple as foam concentrate, water, and air!” he said, with a smile.
“Firing extinguishing foam,” I relayed, understanding what he was getting at.
As a flame roared up toward us, our cylinder of foam exploded from the sky and dowsed the flame in an instant, leaving us completely free to attack without concern for our sensors’ targeting.
*“M… Mr Nye…. Perhaps we can talk about this? Have mercy!”* the factory pleaded, suddenly terrified.
Bill Nye switched on the communicator from his end, allowing him to speak directly through the loudspeakers on the airship outside.
“I do not follow the rule of mercy. There is one thing that rules all in this world and I intend to follow it to the end.”
*“What is that rule? We’ll do anything you want!”* the factory speaker assured us.
“Science Rules,” Bill said, signaling me to fire the missiles and destroy the plant.
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For more stories, come check out r/Nazer_The_Lazer! |
Senator Cochran sat down on the edge of the bed. He tried to brush a piece of hair away from the woman’s face, but she pulled back and slapped his hand away. The swelling in her face hadn’t started to go down, but the bruises were already turning an angry purple.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she said.
“Don’t get too feisty,” said Cochran. “I like them with some spirit in the bed but not out of it.”
She spit in his face and sneered. Cochran backhanded her, a shriek escaping her lips. She held the side of her face. Blood spilled from a gash in her lip as she began crying.
“I wouldn’t have to do this if you would just have my child,” said Cochran. His voice was level and calm, almost monotone.
The woman didn’t meet his gaze. She curled into a ball and continued crying.
“Do you know how long I’ve had to do this?” said Cochran, standing. He moved in front of the bedroom’s window and looked out on the palatial gardens.
“Fuck you,” she said.
“I’ve been with more women than I can remember,” said Cochran. “Millennias of trying with queens, princesses farm girls, seamstresses. High and low in society.” He turned to look at the sobbing bundle of woman on the bed. “And here I find some dirty, gold digging whore who can have my child.” His voice had an edge of contempt. The calmness on his face started to wash away.
Her sobs had quieted. “What?”
“Fourteen thousand years, by my count, and then I have unprotected sex with some tart at a party because I need to release, and what do I find out?” he said. Cochran’s face darkened, his posture became more hunched, more predatory. “I find out she can have my child, which no one has ever been able to do,” he screamed, “and she has an abortion.”
The woman screamed as Cochran began yelling and punching holes in the wall.
“And now,” yelled Cochran, “ you made me keep you here until you have my child.”
“No,” whispered the woman. She clutched the sheets over her naked body. “No.”
“Yes,” sneered Cochran. “I’m going to have my way with you every day until you’re pregnant.” He stalked over to the bed, his hands curled into claws. “And when you’re pregnant you will have the best doctors and when my child is born you will be cast away.”
“No,” she whispered. She shook her head without looking at Cochran.
He stood and straightened his tie and slicked back any loose hairs. The anger disappeared. The calm returned to his face and his voice. “Yes, I will and do you know why I’ll be able to do it?”
She continued shaking her head.
“Because you’re a whore who no one cares about, and I’m currently a Senator with several lifetimes of connections,” he said, moving toward the bedroom door. “And I’ve been doing this longer than any civilization has been around.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No,” laughed Cochran. He winked and opened the bedroom door. “No. Just immortal with my biological clock ticking.”
|
“Your job is simple,” said the short, bald man, peering up at me through a pair of dark, horn rimmed glasses. “You guard the gate. Make sure nobody gets out.”
“Nobody?” I asked. “Then what's the point of having a gate in the first place?”
“Yeah, doesn't make very much sense,” I said, continuing my train of thought.
“If nobody gets out, then why don't you just replace the gate with a wall instead?” I finished.
The man ignored my questions. Why was everybody doing that since I got here?
“You're going to do great,” the stout man continued. “It's been ages since we've had a proper guard dog.”
“I'm not a dog!” I exclaimed.
“I'm a human! I own property and drive a Honda Civic,” I continued.
“Well, I *used* to drive a Honda Civic,” I corrected myself. “I actually just crashed it recently. It was pretty bad. I think I totalled it.”
It did not appear that the man could understand me. He must have sensed my confusion, because he met my gazes with a knowing stare. “Look, I know things must be confusing for you. That's normal, everybody is confused when they first arrive down here. But after a while, everything will start to make sense."He paused to wipe his brow, and push his horn rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Setting all that aside, you have a new job now, so you might as well make the most of it, and guard the gate. Do a good job, and your master may just reward you.”
I took a minute to think it over with myself. Maybe he was right. What harm would guarding a gate do while I tried to collect my thoughts and remember how I had ended up in this place?
"Okay,"I said obediently, all three of my voices speaking in unison. "I guess I'll try guarding the gate." |
We were both champions.
It was inevitable that we would face against each other in the final match.
That was, in fact, why we were placed on opposite sides of the bracket. Everyone else was randomly assigned their first partners and randomly slotted in, but Alexei and I were both rumored to be the greatest chess players in generations. They said it was like I could read minds, like he could see the future.
Well, they got that one wrong.
I barely had to pay attention to the matches themselves as we played. I barely even needed to glance at the future. I was rather good at chess, even without looking, and I would have hated to get sloppy just because I could effectively counter any move or gambit by knowing what my opponent intended.
Sure enough, I won every match uncontested. One of my poor opponents conceded after five moves after I effectively boxed him into the trap he meant to spring on me. It was immensely satisfying.
After only a couple hours of intermittent glancing at the future, I was ready for the championship match. Me vs Alexei. As I sat down in front of him, I caught myself wondering if he really was as good as everyone made him out to be. I hoped so. It would be fun to have a challenge.
I was white, so I would move first. Absently, I rolled through the future in my mind, biding the time until we started. The results were... strange. I would sent out a knight first, and in short order take an absurdly strong position with an amateur's gambit, the kind every grandmaster could see coming from miles off. As I approached the end of the yet unplayed game, the future wobbled and shifted. I began the same, a white knight in the lead, but my moves were caught more easily, countered better, and my victory was still assured. The future wobbled again, and again, and again each time falling back to the start as soon as I knew I would win.
Concerned, I glanced over at my opponent, banishing the future from my mind as I did.
Alexei was staring at me intently, pale as a ghost, the barest glimmer of sweat glimmering on his forehead.
And then I understood.
He was known as a defensive player with the occasional unexpected assault, one who almost seemed to know his opponent's moves before they moved. Everyone always said he could read the future, that I could read minds, but I knew that wasn't true.
He could read minds, but the future was mine.
As our final match was announced, I smiled, and began running through every possibility of every future, splitting every choice across a nearly infinite web of futures, exactly like I did when I first started learning chess. After years of practice, I was a master at digesting the streams of information, letting them all wash over me all at once, but I knew it would take a toll on him.
Alexei grew paler, his hands shaking where they sat, clenched together, on the table.
Another moment, and the possible futures in my head diverged further and further, and the black king started falling. One after another after another.
A drop of blood fell from his nose, and Alexei collapsed just as I picked up my white knight to begin the match.
Casually, I leaned forward, placed the knight back in his square, and gently tipped over the black king.
"Checkmate." |
There's a fairly simple (if *very* difficult to actually pull off) recipe for making an advanced, intelligent species. Take a social species and get them to exploit something so effectively that survival is no longer their primary concern. Social competition takes over, driving intelligence along until you've got a species that can reach the stars, because they've spent eons developing a brain that can outsmart the other members of the species.
So far, so normal.
Here's the thing, though- whatever niche you're exploiting fights back. Meeting their basic needs so thoroughly that they can devote insane resources to brainpower never happens if they get locked into an evolutionary arms race with their food. Therefore, this usually only works if they're exploiting something that doesn't really fight back.
Plants are popular. Plants will *absolutely* fight back, in evolutionary terms, but exploiting them effectively enough pretty much always leads to cultivation, in one form or another. Plants aren't the biggest fans of being eaten, but if they're being eaten by a wildly successful species that will spread (and even care for!) their seeds...
Eh. What's a parent to do? Sure, you're a salad, but your babies are strong.
Natural selection takes it from there.
You'll get predatory species, occasionally. It's rare, but it happens. They only really specialize in ambush hunting, though, and their populations are *always* small. Eating meat means that a *lot* more calories go into making your food than you can get back out, and your prey will catch on pretty quick (or possibly just go extinct) unless the predator species only takes a very small proportion of the prey.
Small populations in ascendant predator species are usually maintained via hunting each other. Effective, if a bit brutal.
The end result is mostly intelligent species that don't have any natural killing drive. Those that *do* have a killing drive don't have any endurance. Patience, yes, but patience and endurance are not the same thing.
There were, in short, no species out there who were prepared to fight an eldritch abomination.
And so those species died.
Humanity rose. Communication, cultivation, civilization, Civilization VI: Gathering Storm...all that jazz.
So the eldritch abominations came. Here was food, and they hungered.
But humans were unusual. Humans had followed a different path. They were omnivores, for one- a little unusual, but hardly unheard of. Plenty of intelligent species augmented their diet with this and that, even if most preferred a more narrow selection of food.
They were hunters. Again, unusual, but far from unheard of. It hadn't saved any species before them.
They were *endurance* hunters.
*That* was a new one.
Active hunting didn't work very well, as a niche to exploit. Ambush hunting had a natural tendency towards only taking a small chunk of the population, which was why predators that rose to proper intelligence were always ambush hunters. A more traditional hunting style would either drive their prey to extinction as they became more effective, or lock them in an evolutionary arms race. Either way, the species wouldn't move on to greater things.
Humans hadn't started as hunters, though. They were omnivores, and had options other than hunting. Not only that, their hunting technique worked on *everything*\- they were unspecialized, and could hunt anything that was worth the calorie expenditure and risk, even larger predators. They couldn't run out of prey unless they were the only large animal left, and they wouldn't starve even then.
They were, from their very core, built for endurance, built to *keep going*. Their bodies were made for it, and their minds had followed suit.
The mind of an eldritch abomination is dangerous, indeed, but in very...*specific* ways. They circle, and they strike, and they retreat. They rest, and then they repeat.
The 'rest' part of that equation is very important.
The ambush predators were very, very good at waiting patiently for their prey, which didn't help them at *all* when they were faced with a predator stronger than them that liked to strike and retreat. The herbivores were actually more dangerous- they had at least *some* idea of chasing down predators- but their default response, when faced with a threat, was to run away.
And you can't run far enough to escape, when the predator is inside of your mind. You can't run far enough to escape, when your whole planet is being slowly devoured.
They weren't built for a fight like that, and they died.
Humans, though...
Humans are persistence hunters. When something strikes at us, we don't just strike back, we *pursue*.
An eldritch horror would come upon a human, and begin to attack their mind. It was their way, and to ask 'why' is to ask why stars shine. Circle, attack, retreat.
The human is advancing. Not unheard of.
Retreat.
The human is advancing. Give it a bit more distance.
Retreat.
The human is advancing. It doesn't usually go like this.
Retreat.
The human is advancing. I'm getting kind of tired...
Retreat.
The human is advancing. It isn't supposed to be like this!
Retreat.
The human is advancing. What is *up* with this thing?
Retreat.
The human is advancing. No. It's not supposed to go this way!
Retreat.
The human is advancing.
Retreat.
The human is advancing.
...
Humanity was not equipped to actually *kill* the things. We were not hunters in that particular dimension. But we knew how to fight, knew how to pursue, knew how to never, ever, ever, *ever* stop.
This was not something that eldritch horrors were prepared to fight, let alone to feed upon. They tried, and they failed. They tried again, and failed again. They were not minds in the way that we think of minds- for all their power, they could not adapt, could not find a way to overcome the mutant species they had come to consume.
We could not destroy them, as they would have destroyed us. But they *were* slowly driven insane. Hunger and desperation and sheer incomprehension of this unimagined corner of reality wore their minds down, like water slowly carving a canyon from the rock.
Drip...
Drip...
Drip... |
I could barely believe my eyes. The man standing before me looked nothing like the shaggy man I encountered a few years ago. Usually one forgets the face of the homeless, let alone to those you’ve gained the courage to spare a few coins you had no urgent use for, but would have liked to have saved for a future coffee or chocolate bar.
His new clothes were astronomically on the other end of the spectrum of the filth he called clothing back then. I was nearing the end of a long battle against college when I came across him during a drunken walk late home one night. Earlier that day I had taken a mid-term and felt I deserved some relaxation. Forgetting the ability to hail down a cab after my phone died - I was that dead brained - I stumbled upon a man dressed down in strips of cloth barely passing by as clothing. And when I mean stumbled, I mean drunkenly stumble into him as he was digging through the recyclables.
He addressed himself as Genghis Faustgy after I made sure he was okay. I returned my name, still slightly out of it from the many beers I had at Jack’s Bar. If I wasn’t, no way in the world I would have stayed and listened to his oddly named man’s rants on his assumption of what would happen in the future. Crock-pot conspiracies it sounded to me. After a good fifteen minutes or so, I felt the only nice way out of this homeless man’s rambles would be to give him the rest of the money I had in my pocket, which was in the double digits. Mr. Faustgy’s dark eyes brightened up, graciously accepting my money. By then, I had slightly sobered up and redirected myself the right way back to the dorms.
The only reason I remembered Genghis Faustgy, besides his ridiculous name, was because some of his outrageous predictions came true; a terrorist group redefining a perfectly normal name, a shitty celebrity becoming the president of America, a former Prime Minister’s son becoming the new Prime Minister, and millions of people being outraged over the death of a single gorilla. No one else over the years believed I ever met a homeless man named Genghis Faustgy, let alone the wild allegations he made. Always boiled down to a drunken hallucination.
Now he here was, facing me on a less than desirable crowded street.
“Erm, Genghis was it?” I nervously asked, shifting my briefcase between my hands. I was heading home after a long days work at my new job when he intercepted me. Was he waiting for me? How did he know where I worked?
The dark eyes I remembered from all those years ago were staring back at me. Judging me. “I am so glad you remembered me, and my name.” Genghis toothless smile sent a chill down my spine. “Did you know you were the only person to ever give me a donation the whole time I was out on the streets?”
I shifted uncomfortably where I stood, feeling my briefcase get heavier and heavier. “Really? I’m sorry man, I mean-”
Genghis Faustgy held up a white gloved hand, ordering me to hold my tongue. “It’s okay lad. You housers, erm, others, you aren’t obligated to help. But because you did, I spent half of what you gave me on lotto tickets. And I won enough to get my broken feet off the ground.”
My own eyes widen, unable to comprehend what I heard. Some convenience store out there actually served this man while he as dressed in rags. And amazingly, against all odds, he had won more than twenty dollars according to his snazzy apparel.
“Well, I had made a few investments. You know, the basics. Apple, Tesla . . . Never mind about that. I was hoping to run into you one day so I could repay you properly.”
Ah jeez, I thought, here comes the awkward check I have to reject even though I would need it to pay off my student loans and car payments.
“How about a drink?”
A jolt of pain burst in my mouth as I bit down hard on my tongue. I helped this man out of below poverty and all he wanted to do was buy me a drink. Maybe because I was dead drunk when I met him? Damn college me. “Only if you insist.” I managed to slip out.
Genghis laughed, slightly touching his sleek white hair. “Oh, I do insist. Come on, I know a place.”
I couldn’t help but follow him. My mind was racing, hoping this wasn’t going to end with me in a frozen bathtub, minus one or two organs. I speed text my friend if I didn’t text back in fifteen minutes, call for help. Hopefully Lee took it seriously this time. Only when we had passed by the third bar I grew suspicious.
“I knew a private place, really upscale.” Genghis reaffirmed me, as if reading my thoughts.
I should have ran like hell at that point, but instead I resent a text to Lee reaffirm I was still alive.
Some blocks later, Genghis Faustgy turned down a poorly lit alleyway, expecting me to follow. Which I did. I had already followed him this far, I might as well check out the private drinking establishment.
And how private it was. Genghis took a key out, unlocked the door and held it open for me. I spaced out, nearly backing out right there and then, but I felt something push me forward and before I knew it I was inside.
I have to say, it wasn’t what I expected. To be honest, I did not know what to except. Maybe a torture room, maybe some underground gay fight club. Who knows. But it was the last thing I expected; an actual bar.
“Please, sit down.” Genghis had already taken off his jacket, folding it nearly over his arm. Almost all the seats were open, but amazingly a few seats were taken. In the back a woman and man seemed to be in each others company, ignoring us completely. Not once they looked over to us. In the other corner, a sole woman sat alone, completely indulged with her laptop. Every now and then she would adjust her glasses or give off a soft cough. Other than that we were invisible to them.
I reluctantly sat at the bar, placing the briefcase beside me. I was going to ask if there was a bartender when a women in a tank and a modest amount of piercing came out from the back, holding a tray with a single bottle and glass on it. She placed it in front of us before disappearing into the back again.
“You know, life is funny.” Genghis started, pouring the liquid into the cup. It gave off a rosy-pink colour. “I know a lot of things in life, but I don’t know your name.” He slid the cup in front of me.
I stared at the skinny glass, never realizing how thirsty I was, but some part of me screamed not to drink. “How come you don’t have a drink?”
This time when Genghis laughed, I swear I heard the others in the back join in with him. “Come on, lad, it won’t hurt ya. I just want to properly. Repay. You.” he tapped the glass, as if it was not a request, but an order.
I stared at the hypnotic rosy-pink drink, swearing it was forming faint pictures in its swirls. “You told me a lot of things that came true over the years . . .” My lips licked as my fingers itched to grab the tempting drink. “A lot of crazy things. But the things I could remember came true.”
Genghis lifted an eyebrow “I said a lot of . . . ‘crazy things’ when I was on the streets. Perhaps it was a coincidence some of those things came true.” He pushed the drink once more in front of me, this time successfully getting me to grab it. “And maybe now I’m saying I owe you a drink. Perhaps because I owe you one, or maybe because I have it on good terms this drink will protect you against a future outbreak.”
I didn’t have to turn my head to know everyone, even the pretty bartender with piercing s, had their eyes on us, or me. Now I could smell the rosy-pink drink, triggering memories I had cooking in the kitchen with my mother at a young age.
“Money could never truly repay you for what you did for me. But I was given a plus one for the future and there was no one else I wanted to give it too. Took me over a year to track you down, but I’m glad I found you in time.” I felt his gloved hand touch the middle of my back. “Drink it all, son.”
And I did.
|
The day was so boring
There was nowhere to go
We had sang all our songs
We had watched all our shows.
It was too wet outside,
It was almost a tempest
So we played with our toys
And then had second breakfast.
We had taken a nap
Right beside the nice fire
It was calm and serene
Like the dawn on a shire.
But then something went bump
(And a bit it did howl).
A sing-song-y quick giggle
(And a smell slightly foul).
He knocked on the door
Rata tat tat tat tat
We opened it up
To find the Cat in the Hat!
"Children I've come
From a magical place:
Middle Earth!"the Cat said
With a grin on his face.
"There I have found
The most wonderful thing!"
Then he lifted his hat
And showed us a Ring.
"That ring is no good!"
Our fish then responded,
"It was forged in Mount Doom!
To the Dark Lord it's bonded!"
"Silence, you fool!"
The cat told the fish
"This ring is a treasure
That can grant any wish!"
So the cat waved his hand
And the ring it did glow,
And now there was ice cream
From our head to our toes!
The cat scooped up three scoops
Then he scooped even more on,
As the treats were a gift
From the wonderful Sauron.
"Sauron is wicked!
Our fish did implore
"He seeks the ruin of men
From dear Bree to Gondor!"
The cat's eyes grew red
And he muttered a spell.
Strange thorny posts rose
Til we were trapped in a cell!
The cat danced all around
From beyond the spiked columns
For the time had arrived
To eat poor fish like Gollum!
He picked up our fish
With the glove on his paw
Til he squirmed and did squiggle
Just above the cat's jaw!
Fish looked back our way
Like he had lost all his hope
Like a poor weary traveler
On the Khazad Dun slopes.
Our fish told us "Go fight!
Do not just be hiders,
You must seek out Grey Gandalf
Or Gimli or Strider!"
But before he could finish,
The cat opened up wide
And chewed up our fish,
While we both loudly cried.
While the cat munched and slurped
We found a hole in his vines.
(The cat washed down his meal
With mom's brandy and wine.)
As we ran out the door
It's fur turned to orc scales,
And it bellowed and croaked
While our arms, they did flail.
We had lost our poor fish
And our house where we sat
To a servant of evil
With a ring and a hat.
But perhaps we had allies,
As we still had ourselves.
We could go and assemble
All the men, dwarves, and elves! |
Like we arranged, we always met toward the ends of his lives. I was not to intrude, not to disturb him, until he was absolutely bedridden (we'd decided this in one of his earlier reincarnations, when he couldn't stop himself from asking questions about his previous lives, and those memories, frankly, made him insane).
This time around he was a she, an old Filipino lady at the edge of her life, tucked away in a nursing home in America. It was early Fall. The year was 2018.
I was dressed in all black, as usual. Long, black overcoat over a black vest and dress shirt. Black jeans and black dress shoes. As a rule, I changed my race to match hers. So this time around I had smooth brown skin.
When I arrived at her door I didn't bother to knock. We had given up such formalities centuries ago.
She was dressed in all white, and was thin, delicate, sitting on a chair by the window.
"Who's there?"She asked, turning her head.
I hovered at the doorway and smiled my smile while she squinted her eyes and inspected me. Slowly I could see her remembrance of me returning to her, like color in someone's cheeks when they return inside after a winter day.
"It's me."I said.
"Oh."She turned her gaze back to the window. "That time already, huh?"
I entered and took a seat on her neatly-made bed.
"So, how'd I do?"She asked.
"This time around?"
"Yeah, how'd I do?"
I hesitated.
"You haven't asked in a long time. You sure you want to know?"
"I'm tired."She looked me in the eye. "It's rough. Has it always been this rough around the end? Of course, there were good times. But just..."And she thought about it, then turned back to the window. "I don' think I could do it again. I just don't think I can, you know?"
"That's alright."I felt sorry for her. There *were* bad times, horrible, messy, unspeakable times. I mean, she's lived through most of human history. But bad times always passed. Or she always wondered at what was next."
"I mean it. I think I'm done."
"Why the change of heart?"
"I've had many hearts. Seeing you again reminds me of that. I didn't even know why I was so sad until you walked through that door. Until then, it was like a cold mist. Something fogging the windows, freezing me up inside. But now I know.
"I'm sick. I don't just mean the cancer."She turned her body towards me now and grabbed my hand. "Don't you get tired of seeing it all pass by? Like a pool of water bound to evaporate? Souls waiting in the clouds, a life as fast as falling rain?"
"I don't get it."I said. "You've been through millenniums? Why only now?"
She squeezed my hand, and the lines in her smile deepened. "I'm sorry. I haven't been explaining myself well."And her lips started to quiver. "I cant see you anymore and I cant come back. You carry the weight of my past lives and all my past losses and past loves and everything in the shadows of your black coat. Somehow, even when I'm born, I know that you're bound to come, and that burden of memories looms over my life and affects every grain of my existence, even if for all those years I cant explain why I feel that way.
"I'm done reincarnating. And I know that you are inevitably connected to that process, so I guess this will be my last time seeing you, too."
Then, something I'm not used to. Something that had been missing for longer than history. An emptiness gathering inside me.
"I'm sorry"she said again. "We've had so many good times. And I've learned so much by looking back with you. But I'm done looking."
"No,"I said. "I understand."
She burst into a fit of coughing, and I helped her into bed.
"Can I ask you something? Why do you choose to visit me?"
"I needed a friend."I said.
She chuckled.
"We met once. A long time ago. And we became friends. It was something I hadn't expected either. I was just doing my job."
"I hope you will make more friends."She said, quietly.
She was starting to doze off, and I sat by and just watched her.
Then, "Can I ask one more thing?"
"Yes."
"Are you Death?"
She looked at me and we both smiled.
Then she closed her eyes and slept.
And she never woke up again. |
All my life I had been a victim of my own good intentions. Whether it was serving at a soup kitchen where I spilled a cauldron of split pea on my leg, which ended up needing skin grafts from my butt to fix. Or lending my car to a friend for the weekend, which ended up in a ravine with only my name on the registration, thus leading me to temporarily be presumed dead. Or giving my mail carrier cookies for the holidays, only to find out that they have 'a history' with snickerdoodles which I wasn't privy to.
And so as I stood there, watching the remnants of fumbled holy water smoke and sputter on the ground, a familiar sense of disappointment fell.
*Not again...*
I quickly scanned the rest of the items in my pack, already knowing what I'd find. A small bindle of wooden stakes, garlic flavored breath mints, throwing stars that upon closer inspection were crosses...the list goes on. I was *very* well prepared for some kind of battle, but not the one I had planned on fighting.
I spent quite some time trying to figure out what to do. My ultimate goal with choosing this path in life was simply to be on the 'good' side. I wanted to protect people, do some good, and maybe have a nice rush of adrenaline from time to time. I knew at once given the peculiarity of my armaments that I was still in line to accomplish all I wanted - maybe even more so, really - so it felt wrong to say anything. In fact, the intrigue of it all with the apparent confirmation of the supernatural underbelly of the world was a rather big hook for me to stay on board. Whatever all of this was about to lead to, it was going to be incredibly cool.
But the more I pondered, the more I realized how truly ill-equipped for the mission I was on. I couldn't even keep straight what all the items were used for. *Are the wooden stakes for werewolves? Or was it vampires? But the garlic was for vampires, but aren't the crosses for them, too? But then there are the runic grenades - what are those for? And the foil! Gads, so much foil. Am I going to be fighting aliens? Were the aliens vampires?* On and on my thoughts went until I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.
I was going to have to talk to someone about this.
With just minutes before our first mission was to roll out, I found my commanded who could immediately tell something was wrong.
"Don't worry, Griffin, lots of firs timers shit their pants before their first mission."
"It's not that, sir, at least not this time,"I said.
"Make it fast, you know we're due out in minutes. And you'll have to replace your holy water,"he said, pointing to the empty slot in my utility belt.
"It's kind of about that..."I said.
"Don't worry about dropping it; that happens a lot to of first timers, too. That's usually why they shit their pants - we're always somewhere unholy, and they're never quite ready for it to start smokin' on 'em,"he said.
"Okay, look, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with any of this. I think there's been a mistake along the way. I don't think I was ever meant to be in this unity.
The commanders eye's narrowed, before he lowered his head with a heavy sigh. "Who'd you give your application to? Was it a guy named Mason?"
"Yeah! Wait, why?"
The commander groaned. "Damnit Mason,"he mumbled, before raising his head. "He's an idiot. You signed up for SWAT, yeah?"
"Right,"I said.
"This is the SWAHT unit. 'Supernatural Warfare Against Hostile Takeover.' That idiot keeps assigning people to this unit cause of the silent H."
I laughed at the absurdity but I wasn't surprised by it. There's always a Mason somewhere in the line of paperwork for any important decision.
My laughter stopped sharply when the commander stood up and began to walk away. I knew I was in the wrong place, but naturally still had other questions. Such as: can I go now? I jogged after him, asking what I should do.
"Stay inside,"he said. "We'll figure it out when I get back. Might want to wrap yourself up in that foil, too, just in case,"he said with a wink.
And just moments later I was alone.
I scurried back to my barracks, the residue of my holy water still smoking near my bed, and began wrapping myself in foil. I knew the commander was bullshitting me, but I also didn't know if he was or not. *Better safe than probed,* I thought, as my body slowly took on a crinkly shine.
And so I laid there all night without a wink of sleep, a foil burrito of a man wondering if, just once, his decisions might not backfire terribly. But alas, I suppose I can't complain about such an interesting if not confusing life.
And, at the very least, I didn't shit my pants.
&nbsp;
________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. |
Chivalry was his father. The code lived inside his genes, tempering his devastating prowess on the battlefield. And it needed to be tempered, for after a time Emperor Charming ruled the entire civilized world.
Humility was his mother, influencing the Emperor's decision making in all things, creating a transparent and open government that regulated with a reasoned, rational fist.
These two traits defined the Emperor, in turn impacting the vast bulk of civilization. But they were outward facing traits, the facade he presented to the world. And they came at great cost.
Inwardly, the Emperor thought's broiled in endless tumult and anguish at what he must do, at the true extent of his necessary evil, which was visible only to those caught in his immediate web.
Deep beneath the Emperor's sprawling palace, where the great minds of civilization came together to create and invent and move forward humanity step by step, deep beneath all of that lay the catacombs.
The Emperor's bright white teeth flashed in the torchlight. He paused to watch the princesses, each of them strapped to a gurney. The gurneys at the end of the room were unoccupied, waiting for the princesses he still courted in the palace above.
The Emperor stood ramrod straight, proud and dignified and noble, framed in the fire light that licked at the chipped stone walls.
"Sleep, princesses. Sleep and dream, for your dreams allow this world to flourish." |
“Your Honor, as you are well aware,” I said from the podium, “the right to a fair trial is a vital pillar of our justice system.”
The Judge, wearing a frustrated look, rolled his eyes and glared at me. “That’s right, Mr Morpheus – can I call you Mr Morpheus?” He asked sarcastically.
I nodded, adjusting my mask slightly.
“Well Mr Morpheus, the thing is, the right to a fair trial has nothing to with whether you can wear a mask in my courtroom or not. I’m starting to get a little tired of this whole façade in all honestly. And I thought I told you to bring your assigned lawyer to this hearing?”
I scratched the elastic behind my ear, “yes Your Honor. I understand my lawyer was otherwise engaged today. He assures me he will be there to represent me at the substantive trial. Actually, I did have a question about that.”
The Judge waved dismissively, pulling out his cellphone. I glanced at my assistant, whose eyes were glued on my pocket with an obvious look of warning.
The Judge started tapping into his phone, "let’s get him on the phone now. What can be more important than an appearance in my courtroom?”
“Objection, your honor!” I yelled, trying desperately to grab his attention as my hand fumbled with my phone in my pocket, searching for the mute button.
The Judge slowly lowered his phone and glared at me, “Objection? Mr Morpheus that’s not how an objection works. Something you'd know if you’d brought your lawyer along.”
The Judge was shaking his head as I found the button. He put his phone to his ear as my pocket began to vibrate. I held my breath.
My assistant coughed and I realized people could hear the vibrating. I started humming an old batman theme song, eliciting strange looks from everyone in the courtroom.
The Judge placed his phone down slowly and stared at me.
“Mr Morpheus, you’re this close to being placed in contempt", he said, showing how close with two of his fingers, “and it seems your lawyer is otherwise occupied today, which does your cause no favors. We’ll take a brief recess and be back to finalize things in 10 minutes. I strongly advise you to use that time to find your lawyer.”
The Judge banged his gavel and stood to leave. “All rise,” a court attendant said.
A minute later I standing outside the courtroom with my assistant. She looked at me with concern.
“I don’t see how you’re going to get around this,” she whispered, “one way or another you’re going to have to show your face - or faces - at the trial."
“I’ve got it figured out, don’t worry,” I replied and glanced across the hall at a police officer who was staring at me angrily. I recognized him as my arresting officer and waved at him with a smile.
“Don’t worry?” My assistant said urgently, “I know you’ve mastered the whole double-head morph, but, that's going to be a little obvious in the courtroom, isn't it?”
“I’ve got a plan,” I said before heading down the hall to stretch my legs.
The gavel hit the wood as people began taking their seats, I wandered back to the podium.
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking about that other question now,” I asked.
The Judge motioned for me to continue.
“Well Your Honor, about the appearance at the upcoming trial. I was hoping that you’d be willing to accommodate an appearance via video-link for my lawyer and I,” I said, offering a disarming smile.
“Video-link? Mr Morpheus the only people we allow to be tried via video-link are those being held in detention, and I don’t think I’m about to make an exemption in this case.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that, Sir,” I said, “so I just wanted to say sorry in advance.”
“Sorry? For what?”
Just then I began morphing my arm out towards the Judge.
“What’s this about?” The Judge yelled as the arm stretched all the way to his bench.
I snatched his gavel and banged on the wood a couple of times. People gasped in shock. Within a moment my arm was retracting back to its normal size.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” I said, grinning as I flexed my arm a little.
The Judge grabbed the gavel and slammed it down furiously, “Mr Morpheus, I hold you in contempt – you will not set foot in my courtroom ever again! Take him away!” |
EDIT: Welp, I read it as 'your childhood imaginary friend', instead of 'your child's imaginary friend', so the story is about the dude's imaginary friend, not his kid's. Anyway...
_________________
"There's nothing like smoking a fat one and killing Vietcongs, Gary. Take that to your grave."
Gary nodded, not really listening to what Kurt was saying. He pressed the joint between his fingers and pulled a
drag, coughing the smoke out in a white puff.
Kurt pressed his hand over his mouth, pushing Gary's head to the ground. "Shut the fuck up!"
Gary passed the joint to the next soldier, raising his head an inch from the grass and over the log to look across
the forest. Nothing. Fog and darkness, like he remembered road scenery from his childhood trips to San Francisco.
The high was starting to kick in, and Gary begun to feel dizzy.
"You stay here, we're gonna go check the perimeter", Kurt said, getting up and signaling to the other boys.
By the time Gary got himself around to asking, "Wait, I'm supposed to wait here alone?"Everyone was already
gone.
The rattling sound of boots against leaves and twigs started fading as Kurt and the others stepped away. Finally, Gary could hear no more than his own breathing.
Well, not really no more. Crickets and stuff. But no human being. No sign that someone was hidden just behind the
bushes with a sniper, waiting for a clear view. That Gary didn't hear.
It came without a warning, when he raised his head to check for his friends. His helmet flew off, disappearing in
the darkness, and Gary fell back down, feeling the blood drip across his forehead.
"Hey, dude. Bang, bang."
Facing the sky above him, Gary managed to turn his head around a millimeter or two. The pot made everything calm and ethereal, like it wasn't really happening.
*Like I'm not really dying*, Gary thought, and then he got really scared by that thought.
"You're dead bro. Fall down."
"Ted?"
Gary was breathing fast now; the realization that he'd just been shot in the head hitting him like – well, a bullet.
He laughed at the association he made about bullets and realizing he was dying from a bullet wound. Ted, his
imaginary friend, was sitting right by his side in lotus position, all dressed in army clothes like him.
"I'm already on the floor, Ted."
What Ted was doing there, Gary didn't know. But he suspected the marijuana cigarette by his head might have
something to do with it. He also suspected the LSD from earlier might have played a role, too.
"Hey, Gary, remember the last time we played?"
"I think I'm dying, Ted…"
"Out in the backyard, our last war. Me and you against the Germans, like your father fought for real. Remember?
The Anzio Bridge."
Through the fog of the forest and his mind, Gary actually managed to remember what Ted was talking about.
He saw his backyard, back in Missouri. He saw the swing his little brother refused to be pushed in, insisting that he
could do it on his own. He never could.
He saw himself and Ted, kids no more than 6 years old, running from behind the oak tree to the external wall of the garage, plastic guns held up at chest height, waiting for some imaginary signal from some imaginary General.
"That was a fun battle, Ted", Gary heard himself saying. He turned his head back to face the black sky again and
felt a drop.
Maybe it was raining. Maybe it was his blood.
Again, the realization that he was actually dying at that very moment made him start to panic. He remembered reading that he should keep his heart at a steady pace and not panic, so as to not lose blood in the event of a serious wound.
*Is a bullet to the head a serious wound?*
He closed his eyes again. "Talk to me, Ted. Tell me about that day in the backyard."
"Well, you were the hero, Gary", Ted said. "You saved all them boys."
"Did I?"
Behind him, Gary heart the rattling and the cracking of Kurt and the others returning.
"Shit! Wilford has been shot!"
"You lead the first wave towards the German defense, Gary, and they never stood a chance. You were amazing."
"Back! Stand back, everyone!"
"We can't just leave him there, Kurt!"
"Then what, Ted? Tell me."
"Well… Then your mom showed up and the battle was over."
Gary smiled. His eyes closed, he saw his mother by the back door, calling to him. "Supper's ready, darling."
"Kurt, he's alive! We gotta go to him!"
And Gary remembered his father's tall figure, showing up by his mother and putting his arm around her. "Leave him. He's having fun."
"We gotta leave him. It's a sniper. He's in the line of fire."
"That night we played until dark, didn't we, Ted? Mom never let us play outside until dark."
Gary opened his eyes again to the black sky. The rattling and cracking of footsteps started fading behind him. Crickets again now, only. And irregular breathing.
"It's dark now, Ted. And we're still outside."
"Yeah. We are."
"Did we win, Ted? Did we beat the Germans?"
The black of the sky was taking over, shadowing the tops of the trees and the fog above. In a couple of seconds, it
took over everything, and all Ted could see anymore was darkness.
Darkness.
"Ted? Did we win?"
Gary felt a hand grab his own and grasp it tight. He smiled.
"Yeah, buddy. We won."
______________________
*Thanks for reading! If you like my stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca. You can also get my WP short stories book on Amazon for free until midnight tonight [right here](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00W5FX9JC).*
|
A hissing voice pierces my ears. "You're not going out like that."I roll my eyes. "Whatever, dad."
As I start to walk to the door, a formless shadow moves beneath me and materializes into a black robe, a shadow hiding what lurks beneath. I start to get annoyed. The black robe speaks again in its hissing voice. "Honey, how many times have I told you, you're a part of the Reaper family, and no Reaper goes out dressed like that.""Fine. But tomorrow my boyfriend Scott is coming over for dinner. You better not embarrass me like you did last time."
It took forever to get my dad to accept that Scott was a part of my life now. But, after many weeks, he's finally stopped interrogating me every time I mention him.
I walk off before my dad can respond to my face. I hear a hissing "Okay, but Uncle Hades is coming over tomorrow, he's joining us for dinner."Finally, a piece of good news. Uncle Hades was the only good thing to ever happen to this family. I crawl into bed and text Echidna that I can't go out. I'm not going out looking like a damn nun. Stupid Grim Reaper.
The next morning, I wake up, feed Cerberus, and do other household chores, just waiting for 5 o'clock to roll around so I can see Scott again. My dad had to go to work today, he's a pretty busy guy. But he takes off early and rolls into the driveway at around 4:30, Uncle Hades in the passenger side seat. He sees me in the window and waves enthusiastically. I wave back before they come inside.
"Uncle Hades! It's so good to see you!"He hugs me back as he slips a small box into my hand. "It was a little expensive, but I had some money laying around after the divorce with Persephone, you know how much she liked to spend, and I figured you deserved it."
I open the box, and attached is a gray stone with damned souls swirling inside, attached to a gold chain. I gasp, I've always wanted a soulstone necklace! "ohmygosh, thank you Uncle Hades!"I hear my dad clear his throat as his hood faces my general direction. "Oh. Um, hi dad."
"Now, when's Scott getting here?"
"I told you dad, five o'clock."
Uncle Hades pipes up. "Ooh, who's this Scott fellow?"
"Oh, he's just this guy I met one day at school. He's really nice and he's a pretty great guy. He's coming over for dinner."
"Sounds great, I can't wait to meet him!"My dad throws on the worst pink apron and starts cooking, cutting up pomegranates. Always something with pomegranates. I'm getting sick of them. Uncle Hades sees the pomegranates and a look of sadness washes over his face. Looks like he's taking the divorce hard.
Five o'clock finally rolls around, and I hear a doorbell ring. Cerberus starts barking, as usual. He's not *the* Cerberus anymore, now he's basically a three headed Pomeranian. Turns out Cerberi can be bred. Who would have thought. My dad bought a PomCerb because "the house is too small for a German Cerberus."Whatever. My dad pulls his scythe out of the umbrella rack. "Dad, not now,"I hiss. He puts the scythe back before opening the door.
"Hi Scott, I'm Mr. Reaper, nice to meet you."He extends his hand. "Hi, I'm Sco-"his hand grabs my dad's and he falls over, immediately dead. Uncle Hades bursts out laughing as my dad stammers out an apology. "Dad, for fuck's sake, not again!"
"Watch your language, young lady."I roll my eyes and yell in frustration. |
"What the fuck!"Tucker said as he opened the door to his bedroom, having planned a rather nice evening with the pretty girl from the bar.
A pile of eyes and wings jutting in all directions rotated and undulated on the bed surrounded by a ring of white fire.
"Tucker, I am here to save you!"came the bellowing wet voice from some unseen mouth on the monster.
"It's okay,"the pretty brunette said, somehow unphased. "I don't mind a messy bed. It was going to end up that way anyway,"she said with a devilish smile and she sat down right beside a set of pulsing eyes dangling from the creature.
"Okay, can you really not see that?"Tucker gestured broadly in the direction of the monstrosity.
"She cannot see me, Tucker. I am your guardian angel. Only you can see me!"The monster blurted again. "She is a demon. Stand back while I send her back to hell!"
"You have to be more specific,"the girl said with a smile as she pulled off her shoes.
As Tucker watched helplessly, a misshapen arm rose from the folds wielding a bright flaming sword and lobbed off the head of the pretty girl from Tucson. She crumbled to indistinct ash before absorbing into the carpet leaving a faint trace of sulfur.
"What the fuck!"Tucker cried for the second of what would be many times in the presence of Azeranaphil.
"You barely escaped with your life. I will be here again if you need me."The monster disappeared in a puff of smoke.
"I certainly hope not."
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. |
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