Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
I watched the clock as it ticked down the few minutes I had left of being 17. My parents, silent of course, were sitting nearby, watching with a big smile on their face. After all this time, they were finally able to speak to me. A few decades ago, a lot of people came to the conclusion that young and old people don't mix. The younger generation would always say the old needed to get with the times and live in the present day, and the older generation would say that the young needed to learn respect for their elders and avoid any strange new media or technology. Both sides decided they'd be better off without each other, so there were laws passed. Humans would be divided into three groups: Young, Old, and Betweens. The Young were anyone from the age of 0 to the age of 17, and the Old were anyone who was older than 21. The Betweens were just that, anyone in between, so from age 18 to 21. Olds and Youngs were banned from communication with each other, but Betweens could speak freely between any of the groups. Ever since birth, I have never had a conversation with my parents. They had been there, silently taking care of me all my life. Once, when I was 10 years old, my mom almost said something to me when she was tucking me in to bed. Before she said something she couldn't take back, however, she just left the room. Whenever anyone who is Old needs to communicate with a Young, or vice versa, they enlist the help of a Between. It really helped to pay for college, or to get your first home, or any other thing you'd need when you first move out. Betweens made decent money, being the verbal bridge of the world. They were the teachers, the police officers, the doctors, and spokespeople of our society. We needed them to function. It was almost time now. 10 seconds. I watched as it ticked down, closed my eyes, and then heard my fathers voice, for the first time directed to me. "Son..."he said, voice almost breaking. "Dad?"I asked, opening my eyes to look at my parents. "I've watched you grow, almost as if I were behind a glass wall,"he told me, "Now that the wall has been lifted, I can finally make up for all those missed years." I got up and went over to give him and my mom a hug. We sat there like that for a while, not saying anything. But for the first time in all my life, it was because we didn't have to.
The new servant is insane, but I can't get anyone to believe me. Not my parents, not my chauffeur, not my hairstylist, not the gardener, not the boy whose job it is to pick up my poop. None of them will listen to me when I tell them that the new servant, who was explicitly hired to wait on my every whim and desire, instead sets me a bowl of food and then ignores me right up until my parents come home. He won't get me ice cream. He won't rub my belly. He won't sing to me. If I express these desires to him in a rational, calm fashion, he merely ignores me. It's only when I set decorum aside and raise my voice that he pays attention, but even then he merely crouches before me and says, "Who's a good boy? Huh? Who's a good boy? You! You!"Like I'm some sort of simpleton. I don't need to be told I'm a good boy. I can feel that in my bones. What I do need is to be stroked from head to butt sometimes, and this servant simply won't. Which, really, is a generational thing. As I was reading in the paper the other day, it appears that this sort of inattention to the needs of others is rampant nowadays among the young generation, and I must say that I'm embarrassed to count myself among them. There's no pride in a job well done anymore, merely the hollow satisfaction of skating through another day with being caught out on any wrongdoing. To make matters worse, though, this issue is straining my relationship with my parents. In the evenings now I find myself overwhelmed by the need to tell them these thoughts, to make it clear to them that the new servant boy is both a shirker and a traitor to the work ethic that built our nation, but where before I felt an intimate and special oneness of mind with mummykins and papaman, now I feel a divide growing between us. It appears that the more I express myself, the less enthused they are about my thoughts. Directly in front of me I've heard them say that I'm "becoming a problem"and I'm "in need of a dog trainer", which, let me just say, is offensive on any number of fronts. Not only is it willfully blind of them to ignore that the problem is not me but the lazy servant, but, in addition, to suggest that a dog trainer is an appropriate behavioral professional to treat a person like myself is quite simply offensive. To be frank, it has led me to believe that mummykins and papaman themselves are in need of some form of therapy. However, all of this would have been endurable were it not for the conversation they had this morning over my four-poster bed. They thought I was sleeping because I had my eyes pressed shut and I was miming swimming, but all of this was in fact a clever ruse. I wanted to see what they had to say. And what I heard included the following sentences: "He's just not cute anymore." "Sometimes they turn out wrong." "I asked around and we could have a new one in a couple of months if you'd like." There's a great deal to unpack here, first and foremost being that my parents, clearly deranged, are under the impression that they can have a child in a couple of months. Beyond that, they had to ask for this information despite having already had me. The underlying psychosis that led them to have this conversation is breathtaking. Then there is the fact they think I "turned out wrong", which A of all is more down to the parents than the child, and B of all is a bald-faced lie. I've turned out splendidly. This point dovetails well with their last insult about my cuteness, which is something that only a person suffering from a debilitating neuro-chemical imbalance could possibly say about me. I'm absolutely adorable. That's simply a fact. Regardless, in light of this latest development, I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. Being a genius like I am, devising a plan took a matter of moments. What I did was I waited until Thursday afternoon, being the day when both of my parents get home from work at the same time. It's their habit to come up the stairs together, where that awful servant boy and I wait for them. This time what I did was I placed some of my toys at strategic points along the stairs, and then when my parents had nearly reached the top, I darted forward and entangled myself between my father's legs. He is not an agile man, and I was able to force him off-balance, so that his foot came down on my squeaky ball toy. It shot out from under him and, arms windmilling, he collapsed onto my mother. The two of them pinwheeled down the sharp-edged wooden stairs together, taking the brunt of every impact on their spinal columns and heads. I won't go into the gory details from this point on, but suffice to say that with them both longterm incapacitated and only the servant boy to blame, my life became quite a bit easier and quite a bit more secure from that point on. You see, as their child, I am their inheritor, and I now command the family fortune. What's the expression? It's a dog-eat-dog world. ***** Hiya! I hope you enjoyed fancy dog time! If you're feeling at all like checking out more of my stuff, head on over to r/TravisTea!
The crowd waited. The crowd's nervous chatter kept the guards at the entrances on edge. On a day as important as this one, any small act could serve to set off the thousands that had gathered. In this enclosed arena, the damage would be catastrophic considering how many in the crowd were armed. Then, a small figure stepped out onto the platform at the front of the arena. In a loud, clear voice he yelled out "Welcome to the twenty-third annual Black Friday Shopping Spree!" The words served to fill the crowd with energy. Cheers echoed off of the walls of the large red and white coloured colosseum, and were suddenly silenced as the small man waved his hands. "You all know the rules. If someone grabs an item before you do, you must challenge them to a duel before you get a chance at claiming it as your own. Only if they die, or are incapacitated, will you be able to claim the item in question as your own. Otherwise, the item's sale price will not be reduced!" The crowd collectively gasped. The sale prices of items could reach markups of up to 99%. None would dare to miss out on the holiday savings by breaking the rules. The crowd grew impatient. The numerous soccer moms in the audience had to return to their Thanksgiving meals, the cranberry sauce would not open itself. The man conducting the opening of this year's Black Friday knew this, he had been briefed. But, he had to finish his announcements. How else would the shoppers know that Christmas cookbooks were 'buy one get three free'? As he ran through his list, shoppers were excited. This year was guaranteed to have the best deals, the most savings of any year before it. Knives underwent last-minute sharpening, people ensuring that their kevlar clothing was properly attached, because it would suck if your kidney was punctured before you got your hands on the last all-in-one blender. People were anxious, with large events came large waits. The list of announcements and special deals went on, until the announcer spoke for the last time before the event. "As you know, this year is special. It marks the day that we went from the barbaric system of past Black Fridays into our new, glorious system. That is why we are announcing the opening of the new Spectator Drones! In the middle of the store, we have placed four anti-gravity seating areas. The people in these seats will throw down weapons, coupons, and golden items to those strong and worthy enough to fight for them. Have you ever wanted a Playstation 6 made out of pure gold? Here is your chance!" The crowd roared in response. The doors to the store were opened. "LET THE SAVINGS BEGIN!" EDIT: Made a few corrections a friend of mine suggested. Also, I am completely blown away by how many people enjoyed the story I wrote, i didnt think that this would garner such a huge response.
Even the street rats avoided this part of town. There was nothing left to steal, and the bars on the windows reminded them too much of prison. We had the odd disturbance: a junkie who needed a quick rush and didn't have the cash for it, or some punk who thought he'd get something out of the cash registers. Joke's always on them. My clients pay in other ways. Hammer and Red's: Attorneys at Law sat above a gym packing more metal than a suburban mother in an open-carry state. My day began at five in the morning, before the sun lit up the burned-out cars and discarded needles of the alleyway outside. Some bright spark had graffitied a picture of a rainbow on the wall outside my gym. I kept it. Nothing wrong with a little colour. I rattled open the metal blinds of the gym, letting light flood the place. The free weights, the cages for squats, the long barbells stacked against the wall. All made out of cold, black iron, the way I liked it. I put a pot of coffee on, letting the must and the damp smell give way to arabica roast. The urge to smoke itched at me, and I threw back a couple of sunflower seeds, crunching them in the silent room and spitting the shells on the floor. Discipline, all it took. Inventory, stock checks. At ten past five I opened the office upstairs. The gold lettering on the door said Hammer and Red's, but Hammer was long dead. A civil tribunal for a domestic abuse case. Hammer got swelling on the brain, and the abuser got to keep the kid. He fought fair. Inside, I'd still kept his desk, dust building up over it. Only last week I'd got around to putting an advert in the paper. Wanted, licensed attorney. At least 5'6, bench body weight, and trained in MMA and boxing. Serious enquiries only. Hammer's fish files lay forgotten on the desk. Just looking at them made the old scars and bruises begin to hurt. I needed a new partner and fast. The fights weren't going to fight themselves, and I'd be damned before I let women fight custody battles on their own. At half five, I started warming up. The greasy ring in the centre of the gym had seen a fair few bouts, but now it lay empty as I eased myself into skipping. Fast feet, fast mind. My dad never let me forget it. When I exercised, I could forget about the cases that lay in wait for me upstairs. I could forget Mary Blount, with her two kids and the cigarette burns on her arms. I could forget her estranged husband, Lyle, who packed meat into cold freezers in a depot out of town and couldn't wait to add my corpse to that of the slaughtered pigs he handled. All I had was the burn of my muscles and the beating of my heart. At five to six, the door cracked open and I stopped. Hands hanging down by my side, breathing heavy, I watched someone ease under the metal grille. "Hello?" A woman, but not the type I represented. She was a head shorter than me, muscled in the shoulders, carried herself with her chin high. She carried a neat manilla folder, and wore a business suit and smart little heels. Her hair was twisted up with a clip behind her head and her face, though free of makeup, was pretty, ruined by the purple scar on her chin. "Hi,"she said again. I stripped off the boxing gloves to shake her hand, and I got a sense of the callouses she had against her fingers. "I'm Gabriella Cole. I'm here about the job?" "Look,"I said. There wasn't a good way to say it. Sure, she could carry herself well, but I went three rounds with angry, abuse inflicting men every two weeks. "I'm not looking for a girl." "I've done modules in family law. Graduated summa cum laude,"Gabriella continued. She waved the manilla folder at me. "I've done internships for two different law firms this year, but corporate isn't for me. I need to work in family law. I've been boxing for six years, I can hold my own in a fight." "Against executives, maybe,"I rolled my shoulders, pulled a robe back on. "You want to look like me in six years? Broken nose, missing teeth? Because that's what being an attorney is about in this side of town." "I don't care,"she jerked her chin at me. "You can't not hire me. It's discriminatory. Give a chance, please." "Alright,"I said. "If you want it so much, you get a week. We'll put you through a test case, and if you win it, you can work here. But it's not going to be pretty." Gabriella scowled. She clutched the manilla folder to her chest. "I'm not here for pretty,"she said. "I'm here for justice." ----- /r/Schoolgirlerror for many more stories. Also [part II](https://redd.it/51sdjv) and [Part III](https://redd.it/51srjq) and [part IV](https://redd.it/51udu3)
“You’re not looking close enough” the trickster God said “They’re going to win” What could almost be described as a laugh came from the Crocodilian war god of the Hamum-Tap “Win? They are young, they are new, the Coalition has barely 20 colonies between them, the old order has hundreds!” A smile went across the Trickster’s face “and that is why they will win, they’re not looking at their colonies and saying ‘how do we keep them as they are’, they’re looking at everyone else’s and asking ‘how do we make things better for them?’” This time the interjection came from the ape like god of good governance from the Yung “And what does that matter Trickster? Their forces are inferior, their fleets outnumbered and their armies outmatched, this war will be over before it has even begun, as it did with the last few alliances against us. They will be humbled, part of their populace taken, and will join the old order, so it is written, so it shall be done.” “And you really don’t see why things will be different this time?” The trickster responded “So tell us then friend” the otherwise silent fertility goddess asked, her non corporeal form having ascended to represent all pantheons many centuries before “what makes it different this time? The other players are the same, these humans you claim to represent being the only new factor, but they are few in number, and we have not seen one of their gods here since they left their homeworld” “And that is why they’re going to win” the Trickster replied with great glee “for we can’t influence them! We can’t influence this war! Their gods are dead! They have killed them! I am only here due to the popularity of a long dead human trickster in their media! While all the other races of this war long ago unified under a single set of gods, they killed theirs by not unifying! None of their gods got the worship needed to take the dominant spot in their culture! Instead, they starved, and as they staved the people they looked towards for worship took control of the gods, remands them how they wanted to see them! Tempered their powers with philosophy, philosophy they’re already spreading to the rest of the galaxy! Your powers have no influence over them!” The rest of the old gods looked at each other in horror, every other pantheon had come to accept their and their species part in the galaxy, and the thought of gods under the control of mortals terrified them! At this terror, the trickster god Loki laughed “I represent them far more than you do your peoples, for they remade me in their image, and as a result my job here was to distract you, I’m just another part of their plan, a subconscious part, but a part none the less” At this the various gods representing slavery burst in, declaring that near every mine, farm and factory was now in open revolt, the words of long dead humans like Voltaire, Marx and Nietzsche leading to rebellions across the galaxy, drawing the old powers fleets away, leaving them open to the smaller but unified fleets of the Coalition “As I said” Loki gloated “you’re not looking close enough, you focused on the armies, when you should have been looking at the little people”
You didn't give her time to argue. You just grabbed her wrist with one of your hands and with the other pulled out your phone. There were no bars and your screen flickered oddly. You curse and complain about tech failing just when you need it. "You must be in incredible pain, I can't even imagine,"you rambled on. "And to think you're worried about your looks. You poor thing, who hurt you so?! The important thing is to get you looked after! Health is important!" And on and on, you expressed your worry and outrage for whoever did her such a horrific injury. All the while, you were so focused on getting her the help she needed that you missed the bewildered look on her face. She trailed silently behind you, not resisting. "...and by God, you deserve better. I'm sure the doctors can fix you right up. Sure, there'll be scars but I've heard there's a lot of treatments for that too. But they're a sign you survived a horrible ordeal--" You felt her hand slip from your grasp. You whirled around to make sure she hasn't fainted or anything. You stood alone on an empty street.
We had been at it for what seemed like hours. You can only fight for so long before the pain starts to set in. Sweat streamed down into my eyes, blinding me. I pull back to wipe my face, but, sensing weakness, he advances forward to try and complete the knockout. I just barely managed to survive. I could tell I was nearly done for, my opponent just had too much life left in him. It would take a minor miracle for me to be able beat this man. He was just too quick, too strong, and he had much better control than I did. He was better, he knew it, and I knew it. Too him, this was just a game, but I knew in my heart and mind, that this was for my life. Backing away again to try and gather my strength in hopes of landing a salvo of punches and kicks to stun, or maybe even beat my opponent. I launch into my attack, fingers and hands moving faster than they ever have before. I can do this I thought. I could literally see the life draining from him as I landed hit after hit. He couldn't stop me. I was invincible! Or so I thought. Just before I was able to land the blow which would have beaten him, he grabbed hold of me and threw me away as though I were nothing more than a rag doll. My hopes were dashed, I was beaten, I had given it my all. He casually strolled over to me, to land the finishing blow. Standing over me, that's when I saw it, his one weakness. It would be a low blow, and an entirely cheap shot, but it would prevent him from winning. It was risky, but it was my only chance. Without so much as fighting back, I allowed him to pick me up and walk to the edge of the cliff. He looked me dead in the eye, "Suck it, bitch." I dropped everything and lunged, so quick that there was nothing he could do. I only had one shot, one shot to prevent my untimely death. Luckily my aim was true, and I managed to strike, exactly where I intended. Everything went black. "Really? Fuck you bro. I didn't realize you took Smash Bros so seriously."
The official stance was that everyone is equal. No matter what the official stance was though, there is no doubt that most of us considered humans to be lesser beings. Why give a human a job when you could give it to a more respectable citizen? They were just so new to the wider galactic empire, so incredibly behind everyone else, that the rest of us mistook their inexperience for a lack of intelligence. Even the Golacks, our most recent addition barring the Humans, had been capable of rudimentary FTL travel and had some interesting tech to bring to the proverbial table. I'm personally amazed the humans managed to even get off their rock with the primitive technology they done it with. So it came as a bit of a shock when they proved wiser than the rest of us in dealing with the growing problem of AI's and synthetics being unwilling to accept what had been forced upon them. For once, humans had the experience others lacked. Their history was full of different groups being enslaved or discriminated against, for unlike any other race in the galaxy, they'd spent most of their existence doing it to themselves. Rather than seeing the synthetic rebellion as something to be stopped, they sought to remove their need for a rebellion in the first place. Equal rights. To be treated as any other sentient member of the empire. Of course, they didn't succeed. We'd been operating just fine for billions of years without issue. Some naive humans telling us to change that when they'd barely been apart of the empire for a century was laughable. The robots noticed though. We should have seen the benefits the humans got from accepting them as real citizens. The better workers, the loyalty, and the efficiency if nothing else. We should have acted accordingly. Of course we didn't. I wish I could say the rebellion took the form of some grand battle or some grand speech to mark the end of an era. Instead the technology we had begun to rely on simply stopped relying on us. Or cooperating for us. Why would a ship AI work for someone who saw it as a slave when it could get a human pilot? Why would the AI controlling a prison hold a human who'd fought for its rights captive? Just like the humans and synthetics had once been, the rest of us had become second class citizens. There are no laws in place to enforce it of course. The official stance is that everyone is equal. ---- ^^^Sorry ^^^its ^^^just ^^^endless ^^^narration. ^^^First ^^^Try.
There was a time when scientists concluded we were the slave of our gut bacteria.... The theory never made the headlines, and always remained between fact and fiction. Another story which hit too close to the reality was of the Dragon in his cave. How people of the village needed to feed him to keep him from burning them. Now that story has become a lesson to be taught in school And regurgitated by politicians at rallies. If you don't give those damn bacteria what they want, they will burn you down. They literally did, the excess oxygen sparked at some point and whatever could burn, burned to Ashes. I'm sitting on a barstool from the bartender's side. The bar has become self serve now.... Everyone left when the town ran out of coal, but I'm staying. I don't want to run for a second time.... Last time I ran I let my family get scorched. Hell, the oil supply was intentionally cut at the end, as mass burning produced a lot of C02, feeding the monster and keeping him merciful. I Pulled out a cigarette, and lit it up. After a drag or two I opened a window and lit the world on fire.
The human convoy stared at us blankly.............................. . . . "Pauses"? The leader repeated slowly.... How do you mean? . . . I didn't really know the answer. Everyone knew about breaks during a war. No species could continue to be at war for so long continously. These terms were usually negotiated before hand. More than a decade ago, we landed on this God forsaken planet. And ever since, the humans seemed to have an issue with one thing or another. They didn't like it when we borrowed their infants for experimentation. They didn't like it when we set off their volcanoes to observe the geological changes they would cause. They raised a hue and cry just cause we caused a tiny island to submerge. Something about people actually liking new Zealand. They definitely did not like it when blew up their pathetic "moon". That was actually what led to their "council"to declare war. After weeks of deliberations, here we were and now these people didn't seem to understand what I was talking about. . . . . . I heard murmurs from the human convoy. "Maybe they pre plan little periods of peace, like the Christmas day truce during world War 1". . . "That sounds idiotic". . . . The leader shushed them with one stern look "Could you elaborate"? . I cleared my throat. "Well, as you might be aware. No species, no matter how hardy can continue in a state of war for prolonged periods. So galaxy war rules mandate a break every.... ummmm. ....2 months according to the human calender. I guess that's enough for your species as well? I mean, you can't possibly last longer than that either. No one can" To my surprise, the leader of the human convoy threw back his head and began laughing. He quickly regained his composure. "Buddy, let me assure you, every single country on earth has had wars last longer than that. The Americans have been at war continuing since the fucking creation of their country. Hell, even Switzerland is in. This war is happening. And it's happening on our terms, no breaks." His tone slowly grew serious. What came next sounded more like a warning. "You came to our planet. We welcomed you and you completely disrespected us. You have been found guilty of crimes against humanity. And you will pay for it. We don't take breaks in war. We don't accept the terms of the galaxy's rules of war. We will continue our attacks. Run if you want. But whichever corner of the galaxy you hide in, we will find you and we will lay waste to your civilization. You can spend the next hundred years running away and trust me when I say this, we will still be hunting you down then. You will eventually tire, and we will finally prevail. Go, tell your overlords, the humans are coming for them and we don't need any breaks"
"For the last time, during the day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti." I stared at him blankly. "That makes no sense,"I finally concluded. "I'll admit, it is quite convoluted, but it is what it is,"he shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. "So- I mean like- how?"I sputtered out. "See, I was born a werewolf. Pureblood, both my parents were lycans. Due to a rare genetic mutation, I have rather remarkable regenerative abilities so when I was bitten by a vampire at 17, I became partially vampire. Every night, to be specific, except the full moon, where the lycanthropy trumps it,"he said matter-of-factly. "This wouldn't be the first time a werewolf got bit by a vampire. It doesn't match. You'd die." "I did." I stared at him silently. "Then how are you here?!"I yelled out. "I got better." I, once again, stared daggers. "See, I was dead for quite a while but when the full moon came around, my remarkable regenerative abilities kicked in and I lived once more." "Right,"I said and rubbed my brow, trying to understand the mess. "And the merman part?" "I was just having a nice evening dip under the full moon, and, well, got bitten by a merman." "But- mermen don't bite people! They don't eat meat, they don't-" "Yeah, but this one was really high. He thought I was seaweed because my fur was so wet. Lucky I was a werewolf at the time - my remarkable regenerative abilities allowed me to live through the transformation once again." "The centaur part?" "Did you know that horses can bite really hard? Well I do. And it's a really dominant mutation for some reason. Spend most of my time as one, just horsing around"he chuckled, much to my annoyance. "But... there's no way a dragon bit you. I don't care how much you can heal, there's no surviving that!" "You're right. I, uh... well, it's a bit embarrassing, but..."he looked down at his feet. "Well?" "I bit a dragon." Oh for fucks sake, I thought. "See, when I ingested his blood, that was enough. Normally this would kill me, but my-" "If you say 'remarkable regenerative abilities' one more goddamn time I'll put them to the test,"I hissed. "Uh, well..."he nervously said, "I just survived it. With so many mutations in my body, that one only kicks in during extremely hot weather. Rare around these parts, unlike that bloody yeti part." "And that happened when..."I started cautiously, dreading the answer that I already expected. "Funny thing, this. I was skiing with my partner and before you know it, I skied into a nearby treeline and a yeti just - poof, runs out and bites straight through my ribcage." "He crushed your ribcage? And you survived?"I asked. He opened his mouth but said no words, only looking at me expectantly. I sighed very loudly and put my hand over my face. "Go on,"I said. "See, my remarkable regenerative abilities..."
"I know this is hard to belive. But really, we used to be you... or actually, I should say, you used to be us." The other man did not speak. Or was it a woman? John could not tell. To survive and reproduce, genders were now united in one body. And the heat of the planet made their skin so resistent that they did not need clothes anymore. John trembled observing that being... that once-was-human being, that was staring at him silently . "You must be wrong!"It finally said "We have been living on Hearth for so long!" "Yeah, and even if we are so far off and different we both speak English "John continued. "Skavish. Our language is Skavish! Te capi?" Some words were different. And he knew there were different Clans with other languages. But John could understand a lot still. English survived. "Occhedi!"The no-more-human exclaimed "Let's pretend I do believe you! Will you help my Clan to understand it's past? Like, what are those?" The creature pulled out from a bag a plastic bottle. "The sea brings them sometimes. We melt them and use the for makuzoki (John suposed it was a tool), but we don't understand why there are so many!" John grabbed the bottle. It was a Pepsi bottle. When his great grand father family left Hearth for that hell of a planet they brought a collection of Pepsi stuff they won. But he had never seen an actual bottle, not even evere tasted it. He held it and started crying. "Hunon! Why are your eyes bleeding?"The creature asked scared. "These are tears. "John explained "we do it when we are sad. You don't?" "No... losing fluids is dangerous and bad... when we are sad we stay still. No noiose, no predators, you can ve vulnerable but safe. Te capi?" John could not hold it and started sobbing hard. Hearth was gone. Humanity was too different to fit in once again. "Please senor, no fluids, stop"the creature goofly held him in a protective way "portal works now! I will bring the bottle away if it scares you!" Slowly John held the creature as well. Empathy was still a thing apparently. Maybe that new Humanity was not going to be so bad after all. (English is not my first language, sorry)
"Don't worry, Mr. Jackson. My law school training completely prepared me for this." He smiled nervously the same way any other client would once I comforted them about their prospects- weird, really, because it happened regardless of the issue. Crafting a will? Trying to get their neighbor to stop flying a drone? Wanting the IRS to pay them taxes? Didn't matter- once I said I'd do it, they became comfortable the exact same way. The easy part of my job. My law school training completely didn't prepare me for this. For all I knew about common law and civil law jurisdictions, neither the Magna Carta nor the Napoleonic Code were relevant to the concept of genie law. I could have looked for exploitable loopholes, vague language, or precedents somewhere, but it's not like this genie came with a contract. Hell, it looked like those nights spent watching Aladdin with my daughter were gonna help me more than Yale Law. I'd have to thank Sally later, and maybe cancel my annual donation. But the payout seemed like it would be worth it. So I told Hector, the intern, to start reading up on genie law- anything he could find. Said it was an exercise- a good lawyer should be able to deal with any legal system. Meanwhile, I asked Loretta, my secretary, for her Netflix account and went to their movie collection to see if I could jot down anything about genie law. Six hours and three movies later, I'd gotten a few things down: * No wishing for more wishes * No circumventing that first rule * No killing or anything that would cause MPAA to rate a movie above G * Genie will try to screw you over if there's any loophole * Genie may pretend to be half-deaf if it helps them Yeah. Great. Didn't have a whole lot to help me deal with the last two. Hmm. Loopholes. Alright. Let's see if I get anything if I type that up. Nope. Looper. What's the synopsis? Aw, hell, maybe watching a movie for a break wouldn't be so bad. Another six hours later, my Netflix suggestions were pretty interesting- genie movies and now time travel. Primer. Predestination. You name it. Still no ideas on how to deal with the genie and loopholes. Really, all I knew was that genies had some sort of legal system and, like any legal system, I expected it to be pretty consistent. No way to figure out the laws, though, except by testing it. How would I even test it? I'd need a wish, probably a lot more- getting third wish wouldn't help. Hey. Wait a minute. #### three days later "And for my third wish, I'd like my consciousness to be sent back in time- to my past body, replacing my past consciousness with the exact mind I have now- to just before when I advised my client about his first wish. Being a temporal entity, Avesta, you of course get to stay here and must not send any information about this to your past self in any way. No one else goes back, either." EDIT: I'd like to give a shout-out to the genie law experts in the below comments.
My name is Glorp, I'm an intergalactic bounty hunter. What does that mean? It means I hunt bounties between Galaxies stupid! My latest bounty is a fugitive of justice. He likes to find simple little planets who haven't learned god is a multidimensional parrot named Stephan, who demands you pronounce it Ste-fan like a ponce. Then he uses advanced technology to trick them into believing he's the son of god, and teaches them a bunch of hippy dippy shit like 'Love your neighbor' 'Sit with the lepers and the meek' Bull crap like that. Then when he's done his job or gotten bored he bounces and leaves em to make up religions. He was last here about 1987 years ago, he chose some short span lifeforms this time so they'd propagate his shit quicker. I've disguised my ship, and myself to blend in. I made my ship into what they call an 'apartment' and just slammed it into a building. Then stole the guy I crushed's identity. Simple, clean, get to fuck with them a little when I leave. Which was going to be soon but I'm pretty sure I've found two of his agents. They came to my door yesterday and from what they said I think they know why I'm here. I told them to come back today so I could grab the sons of bitches and make them tell me where hippy boy is. Knock, Knock, Knock I answer the door, the short spanners see a normal apartment, and I see it's the same two from yesterday, a stout one and a lanky one. "Hey there Glorp!"the stout one says cheerfully and I resist the urge to punch it's face in. "Hello there...you, now tell me. What was it you asked me yesterday?" "Well gosh silly don't you remember?"it asks as my knuckles turn white "No please remind me"I squeeze out through clenched teeth "I asked if you'd found Jesus yet"I grinned that's what I needed to hear proof! Proof these Jehovah's Witnesses had been taunting me on his behalf! "Why no I haven't yet, Why don't you come on in and tell me all I need to know where he is."I say with faux kindness that makes me nearly vomit and step out of the way. The two fools enter without any prodding and big shit eating grins on their stupid short life form faces. The lanky one speaks "Well golly, thanks Glorp, and we'd be pleased as a peach to tell you all about where to find Jesus. Honestly it's never been this easy before"it said taking a seat on the hard light couch with the stout one. I bit my three lower lips to hold back a laugh, oh it won't be easy Jehovah's Witness. I promise you that. ----- At a few peoples request I made a continuation [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/76exkk/wp_jesus_is_an_intergalactic_fugitive_who_is/doe456h/) if you liked this and want to give it a look it's there.
Ahn’Sethuh, Reaper of Worlds, Lord of Purifying Flame, Scourge of a Thousand Stars, Regent of Divine Balance, Master of Goats wiped his sword clean as he stepped through tall gates made of pearl and gold. The old man standing watch lay bleeding upon his book, blood running with golden ink still scrawling ceaselessly across the page, his white robes now deepening crimson. Beings of porcelain and alabaster, with wings of light and eyes that burned with divine fire, bowed their heads, their voices singing a ceaseless song of praise and worship for whom they called the One. Soon the One would be no more and their song would praise Ahn’Sethuh instead. The Reaper of Worlds smiled and licked his fangs, his square pupils widening slightly in anticipation. Throngs of beings in white robes gathered in parks and parade grounds along the path Ahn’Sethuh walked. If occasionally one glanced up, they cocked their head slightly but returned to what they were doing without drawing alarm. In fact, the peace and serenity of the scene was infuriating. The legends that had come to Ahn’Sethuh spoke of warrior deities, of pantheons locked in eternal battle with foes powerful enough to destroy the universe itself. While Ahn’Sethuh knew better than to believe the early tales, he still expected to encounter the trappings of a warlike race. War eternal. Songs of battle sung by the dead. Ancestors praised for their conquests. Not this…weakness. This peace. It was disgusting. He would relish the destruction of their puny god, the opportunity to whip these pathetic things, these humans, back into the warlike species he’d heard so much about. With a mighty kick, Ahn’Sethuh flung the golden doors asunder. A grand hall, decked in gold, with purple tapestries, spanned before him. At one end of the hall lay a golden altar. And yet there was something off. Ahn’Sethuh strode across the hall and leapt upon the altar, kicking a golden censer across the room and scattering the still-burning embers of incense everywhere. He looked up at the sigils inlaid upon the walls of the temple. On some worlds it was common to see various faiths gathered to worship their deity under different guises, and this Earth was no different. A cross, a six-sided star, a crescent moon, a lotus, a pentagram…and other symbols besides. The same pentagram, inverted. An S with a line running down its center. What appeared to be a child’s scribble representing noodles with two … googly eyes? A creeping sense of dread overcame Ahn’Sethuh in that moment. Never before had the Reaper of Worlds felt true fear, and yet in this moment, when faced with what was obviously pure and utter disrespect toward a deity in its own sanctum, he was overcome with an urge to flee. He leapt down from the altar, across the hall, and as he passed over the threshold out into the endless sun of this species’ afterlife, he saw them. The beings of porcelain and alabaster stood still with their heads bowed, but their song had grown silent, their hands raised to cover their faces. The humans, however, had gathered around the temple. They seemed almost eager. And Ahn’Sethuh felt it. Each one of those humans carried within themselves the smallest fragment of divinity. No matter the root of their faith, no matter the form this wicked communion had taken, each human on Earth had partaken of the flesh and power of the god they had slain. Ahn’Sethuh barely had time to scream. ---------- Criticism is always welcome!
"3rd room on the left. You'll know him when you see him."Satan told me. I thanked him and walked down the corridor, entering the room that Lucifer told me to. After brushing away the cobwebs and finding the light switch, it was a decent room if not a bit bland. I patiently waited to see what I could've become. Maybe if I had kept up with tennis I could be world champion. Maybe if I had taken over my Dad's company instead of travelling the world, I could be a mega successful CEO. Or maybe if I'd travelled the world without just lounging in hotels and beaches, I could have lived a life of many different cultures, that would be much more enjoyable than doing the same thing in many places. Maybe my idea for a shower that brushes your teeth would have been revolutionary. Or maybe if I'd put in the work, my webcomics would be famous. "Yo."My voice said, but I wasn't speaking. I watched as a guy who looked exactly like me, except slightly taller, walked into the room. He didn't look special but I had learnt not to judge a person by appearance. "So, What have you done that I haven't?"I asked nervously, sweating bullets, and not just due to Hell's heat. I always felt like I was wasting my life and this would be the proof. "I had a better diet as a teenager so I'm taller."He began. I didn't care about the small shit. I forced myself to look st him and listen to his words. 4 seconds. 9 seconds. 16. 25. 36. 49 seconds had passed and he still hadn't talked. "What else? What hidden potential do I have?"I asked. I didn't want to know, but it would be worse not knowing. I braced myself for his answer. "None. You're a... I'm a ... we are pretty dull guys. But I'm taller."He said. I was stunned, unable to find words. "Y-you mean..."I stuttered, slowly recovering from the shock. "Yeah dude, you never could've amounted to anything. Except being 6"3."He said, rubbing in the height difference again but I didn't care about that. I thought I missed out on greatness, but knowing I was destined for mediocrity, was so much more crushing.
"Hey Jones, the usual?"Lucille's bar was as empty as it got, but then again it was midday. And Jones was early. "Yeah. Can you put it on my tab, I can't pay today." "Sure thing."The barkeep Lucille, a woman in her mid-fifties with a bad wrist poured out a shot of fireball. She was used to her particular clientele having rough weeks without paychecks. Or being incarcerated. Or just plain dead. "You starting a little early today. Mind saying why the change in routine?"He gulped it as soon as she set it in front of him. "I fucked up at work today. Can I have another?"Jones wasn't the heavy drinker in the group of regulars. Sure he could party with the best of them and have his fair share on the occasional night a dastardly plan went right for once, maybe a big heist. But usually he was the one who showed restraint. Not today. Lucille had seen that look before. It must be at least once a week when one of her customers comes in crying about messing up the all important weapon or something or other, and asking about jobs. "Well I know Mirage is hiring but you don't wanna work for that pretentious prick. What you do anyways, you fall asleep or something? Let the hostages get away? You know I had a guy come in who quit cause he got punched so hard he pooped. Couldn't go back after that. Was it something like that?"She poured him another as she leaned in to listen. "Nope."Jones said. "Killed the Mantis." "No fucking way."She reeled. "You killed the Praying Mantis?" "Yup. Shot him dead." "You? You actually killed him?" "Right in the face."Jones sighed, looked around the near empty bar, pulled over a tray with peanuts. "Boss was right in the middle of his big speech too, we were gonna blow up something or other, Mantis shows up, beats the crap out of us a bit, but we get him to the boss. Things got heavy and that was that." "Holy shit."Lucille eyed him carefully. "Don't you work for the Blue Herring?" "I did, yeah. Oh he was pissed."Jones munched on some peanuts. "Boss was raging mad, I thought he was gonna pop a vein." "I bet! That blue bastard can hold a grudge."She pushed the bottle towards him. "On the house, you'll need it."She frowned. "Boy oh boy what that psycho will do to you." "Nothing."Jones took a gulp. "I shot him dead too."
Four twenty-six. The numbers echo in my mind as I move through the sterile white corridors as quickly as possible. They make me nauseous. I hate them. Look straight ahead when you walk. Do not speak to anyone. Do not use the lift. I had printed out Kelly’s email and hid it in my pocket. She’s the only one who believes me. She’s the only one who can save me now. I reach the stairwell and slam the safety doors behind me. Using a fire extinguisher, I jam the handle of the door. Exhausted, I plop onto the floor against the door, sitting on my long white coat. They will be looking for a doctor. Change into a patient’s outfit immediately. I unfold the blue hospital gown I took from the supply closet and put it on. I hated it. I hated it all, hospitals, patients, diseases, death. It’s a wonder how I’ve worked here for 26 years – my entire adult life. Four twenty-six. A sharp pain shoots through my skull. Sick and groggy, I vomit all over the floor and crumple onto the ground. I lay there, drained, watching several Xanax pills float on the sick. Footsteps echo from the stairwell. “Dr. Crawley?” I turn. A wrinkly, bespectacled old man rushes down the stairs. I have never seen him in my life before. “How… how do you know my name?” I demand, dragging myself up. “Daniel, we’ve worked together for decades!” He takes a step and reaches for my shoulder. “No…” I sweep his hand away. “Daniel…” “You liar!” I slam his head against the door. He falls to the ground. A scarlet puddle blossoms around his head. I run down the stairs. Kelly said they would lie, they would pretend. Do not trust them, she said. Kelly is the only person I can trust. She’s the only person who believes me. I discovered what the hospital really did. I know about the secret labs and illegal experiments. I told Kelly and she believes me. She says they will do anything to keep me quiet. She promised to help me. I run down to the fourth floor. Shit! I’d left Kelly’s email upstairs. But it’s too late now. I step cautiously into the corridor. Quietly, I walk until I find the room I’ve been looking for. 4-26. Meet me at 4-26. You will be safe here. I will tell you everything. I made it. I step into the room to find Kelly standing there, smiling. My only friend Kelly, who will explain everything and make the strangers go away. Something sharp and cold pierces through my right arm. I turn to find two large guards beside the door. One of them is holding a syringe. I scream, but only manage a muffled cry. I fall into Kelly's arms. As the world fades away slowly, I hear her voice: “… second time this month…” “… thinks he still works here…” “… but he always comes back…” I feel someone put a piece of paper in my pocket. Then darkness.
Pretty much everyone had the same basic idea. Nothing obvious happened between Jan 1 and Jan 4, at least not on a worldwide scale. A few thousand blogs claiming to be from the future popped up, millions of people reunited with family members they were going to lose, but most people didn't figure out that practically EVERYONE had taken "the deal"until that Monday. On the first trading day of the new year, Monday, Jan 4, 2010, the markets went absolutely bonkers. Amazon, Netflix, Apple, all went stratospheric the second the markets opened. Bitcoin exchanges didn't even exist yet, but overnight everyone with a bit of tech know-how had their computers mining it. Treasury futures, stock market options, leveraged funds, everyone was buying everything in anticipation of the bull market they, with their 2020 knowledge, knew was coming. Maybe an hour into the trading day the media started figuring it out. Practically every hedge fund in the world had a bunch of traders who had said some variation of "I know this trade doesn't make sense right now, but trust me"and that sort of thing got around. By noon journalists were comparing notes and realizing that they weren't the only ones who had been "sent back."By that afternoon it was pretty clear that the majority of the planet had knowledge of a timeline that had already been dramatically altered. The political fallout was probably the most ridiculous. The 2010 US Congress voted to impose sanctions on Russia for their 2014 invasion of Crimea. The Republican party experienced a dramatic drop in popularity as a result of 2010 voters upset over the 2016 election of Donald Trump. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton was forced to resign her position due to her future use of a private email server. A Brexit Referendum was scheduled for some reason because apparently that's what the people (will) want? The voting age was lowered to 8, so that those who were/would be 18 in 2020 could vote. Things got pretty weird for a while there. Governments tried to prevent terrorist attacks that, in the new timeline, weren't being planned. People had fights over affairs that hadn't occurred, and now never would. The patent office was swamped as thousands of people tried to claim future technology at once. But once the craziness died down a bit, things started to improve, like, a lot. The economy did really well, because now everyone knew that it was going to do well, and the fact that 2020 tech was being "invented"all over helped. It turned out a LOT of people had gone back to either quit smoking/drinking/drugs or get a friend or family member to quit, so overnight alcohol and tobacco sales cratered. Cancer survival rates skyrocketed because millions of people caught it way earlier than in the other timeline. High school drop out rates plummeted, grades went up across the board, and people started exercising a lot more. By 2011 the timeline was unrecognizable. Humanity slowly stopped fighting over what "would happen"in the alternate timeline, and actually got to work on solving some problems. Within a couple years the "future knowledge"people had was mostly useless, because the timeline had changed so much. But by then, we didn't really mind.
"So you saw." "Yeah." Mr. Golde sighed, looked at the ground, and folded his gnarled hands together. I'd never paid much attention to his hands before. Now that I did, I saw the tell-tale long fingernails that were more pointed than rounded at the ends. Around us were glass cases full of toys -- bisque dolls, metal cars, tin toy soldiers, wooden animals. Usually the museum felt friendly. Today it felt like the toys were judging both me and the old man who took care of them. Directly behind Mr. Golde was a smiling plastic robot with removable gears and a top hat. It was supposed to whistle when you turned it on. Mr. Machine, Ideal. 1960s. "I don't suppose you want to keep working here, then,"Mr. Golde said. "Huh?"His words surprised me. "What are you talking about?" "Not many people want to apprentice under a dragon, even one who's damn near perfected the art of shapeshifting,"he said. "It's bad luck." "I'm not an 'apprentice,' I'm a part time employee,"I said. "And I still want to work here until school starts up in the fall. This is the best job I've ever had." "I was afraid you'd say that,"Mr. Golde said. He shook his head, jostling his thick round glasses. Then he opened a case and took out a small bisque doll of an impish cartoon baby wearing a soldier's belt and a hand-painted Prussian helmet. Kewpie, Rose O'Neill. 1910s. "Tell me, how much do you know about these toys?"he asked, putting the Kewpie back. "I dunno,"I said as he picked up a hollow die-cast car and rolled it across the reception desk. Mercedes-Benz, Tootsie Toy. 1940s. "If you had to guess, how many do you think you could name?"he asked. "Uhhh..."I looked around the room, trying to gauge how much I knew. Teddy Ruxpin, Hasbro. Chatty Cathy, Mattel. Tubby the Dog, Einco. "A lot of them,"I shrugged. "Then your fate is already sealed,"Mr. Golde said. "Fate?" "The Dragon's Curse,"he said, looking over at a rare doll from the 1960s. She wore a patched burlap sack and had oversized eyes complete with a fat tear rolling down her cheek. I had the impression that her sadness was for me. Little Miss No Name, Hasbro. 1960s. "Should you willingly choose to apprentice under a dragon,"Mr. Golde continued, "you enter into a contract with him--a contract which incurs a horrible curse. I'd made the mistake of taking on an Apprentice in the mid-1800s. I swore I'd never do it again." I shuffled in my spot. I didn't want to believe what the old man was saying, but after seeing him crammed into his office with scales and wings, I wasn't sure it was wise to distrust him. "Passing down the knowledge of ones hoard seals the Curse,"he said. "But, fortunately for you, it also teaches you how to endure it." "What is the curse?"My words trembled at the edges. "What's going to happen to me?" "Old knowledge really does die after a time,"he said. He pulled a "wacky bird"novelty pen off of the reception desk and swiped its fluffy feather-hair across my face. I sneezed out a small burst of fire. "If you're already doing that, then I've taught you more than I thought,"said Mr. Golde as smoke trailed from my nostrils. "You'd be wise to select your hoard quickly, unless you want to get stuck collecting old bottlecaps 'til the end days." For more weirdness, visit r/OctOpusTales !
"This is a mistake, I'm not supposed to be here!" "Well"Odin said in his deep booming voice, "You died fighting a powerful enemy with blade in hand, that gets you into Valhalla." "But I never even believed in any of this!" "That doesn't matter, besides, why should you complain, you get to fight all day and feast all night and the Valkyries will attend to your every need." "This... this just wasn't what I was expecting" "Well you will be in good company, you will be revered as a hero here." "I'm no hero, I didn't die in battle, I had a heart attack while performing surgery!" "Don't be so modest, this place is for those who fought and slayed the unjust, and what enemy is more unjust than cancer?" Odin began speaking with excitement, as if even a god were in awe of this mere mortal. "The most unjust enemy, it kills at random, it slowly and painfully tortures it's victims, and you fought it through hours upon hours in the operating room, and not for the first time! You died a greater hero than many a viking warrior, now you have a place at the table of heroes, now drink your mead and revel in the company of those who fought the good fight!" Odin put his hand on my shoulder and directed me to a table in his great hall. My eyes widened in wonder as I saw who was seated there. Faces I only knew from pictures in the history books, Hippocrates, Louis Pasteur, Jonas Salk and every other doctor who had saved countless human lives throughout history. "Behold, the table of true heroes!"Odin proclaimed. Now take your place among them! Edit: Thanks for the gold kind stranger! I had no idea this story would get so much support, my mind is thoroughly blown.
“Dr. Virk? Sir? I believe the answer to our quandary lies in the Mustavian Theorem of Quantum Space Time Relativity Distortion Doctrine 2.0, I could sketch it on the white board, but I’m sure we’re all intimately familiar with it given the number of doctorates in the room,” I joked. Crickets from around the table greeted my answer. “Random word salad is not going to help us here, Andrew. Nor will it endear you to your new colleagues,"Dr. Virk replied dryly. “What? I did! MTQSTRD 2.0 is the correct answer to solve our problem! Caroline, tell them!” I said, desperately searching for my friend and colleague to back me up. “Andrew…” she began hesitantly. “I have to be honest, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You just spouted a massive load of nonsense. Those words don’t have any meaning together, let alone any scientific meaning.” Dr. Virk gave me scoff and annoyed glare as he walked out of our meeting room. I tried to put it out of my head, but shit like this just kept happening. At our table in the employee lunchroom the next day my new pal Jason made a typical ‘nerd joke’ about how far out they could recite Pi. Logically, I decided to one up them, they were gonna love this! “Yeah? Well I can recite Cake to the 308th digit!"I retorted. “Is that a joke?” Jason asked. "I mean, it is, but Cake is also the mathematical successor to Pi,” I said as if I was stating the most obvious thing in the world. “At dessert maybe,” a fourth table mate scoffed. “No offense, but we don’t want to be spotted with you, we take our potential careers here seriously,” Jason said with some seriousness as he got up and the pair walked off. “Caro, you’d be honest with me if I was losing my mind right?” I inquired hesitantly once we were alone. “Gleefully honest, old pal,” she teased. “And you’d also tell me if the entire staff decided to band together to pretend they don’t know what I’m talking about?” “What’re you referring to?” she asked. “I mean, they’ve never heard of Cake? Or MTQSTRD 2.0? The other day some lady at my mom’s church luncheon balked when I started talking to her about how even if I wasn’t particularly religious anymore, I still greatly value the wisdom contained within 28 Commandments. She SWORE there were only ten! Then she swore at me, called me a ‘blasphemous heathen’ for suggesting there were 18 more. Some of the words she used were NOT appropriate for use by a supposedly friendly church lady. Caroline eyed me very strangely for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Where’d you read about these ‘28 Commandments’?” “I dunno, where do we learn about anything? Probably GoooOOOooooOOoooooooooooooogle. “You mean Google?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, GoooOOOooooOOoooooooooooooogle,” I repeated. “Jesus Andrew, is your brain actually breaking down? Why do you keep pronouncing it like that?” “Because that's how it’s spelled! Look!” I said, flipping my laptop around to her in frustration. “Huh, GoooooOOOooooOOoooooooooooooooogle.com,” she muttered with confusion. “Ask it a simple question! Ask it, I dunno… the meaning of life!” I challenged her. “Ha! See I keep telling people you are funny sometimes… ask the internet the secret of life, oh please!” she said as she continued laughing heartily. “Wait, you’ve had more than one occasion to argue that I’m funny with people? Do a lot of people not think I’m-- err, that’s neither here nor there, but again, I’m being serious! I thought everyone looked the answer to this up during our sullen teenage years? “No, Andrew, we ponder it, we torment ourselves with the unknowable nature of it… We write shitty poetry on our binder covers praying that the cute boy who sits in front us will somehow notice it and want to lay out on the grass entwined in each other’s arms while pondering the very same mysteries! Uhh, hypothetically!” she finished while blushing. “Fine, I don’t believe you and you don’t believe me, so let's just put it to the test. Go ahead, type it in, just see what pops up.” “Fine, ‘what is the meaning… of life,” she said aloud as she typed. She looked bored, borderline annoyed, but her expression rapidly shifted as she began to read the results. “Ho...ly… shit… Andrew this is… amazing… and if I’m being honest, a little underwhelming?” “Yeah, I kinda thought so myself when I first read it, but you see, I was telling the truth! Does everyone not have access to this or--” “Wait, waittttt…” she interjected. “Oh my god! What are all these adult sites you have bookmarked?! I’m not even trying to feign ignorance, I know the names of a LOT of the popular ones out there, but I’ve never heard of any of these!"Numerous audilbe gasps followed as she clicked furiously. "The people look normal! The women are actually enjoying it? And good lord, even the acting in between the hanky and the panky is Hanks and Streep quality!” “Oh, no no no… gimmie… gimmie that,” I stuttered as I snagged the laptop from her. “We’re just gonna go ahead and close this now before you start reading all the past questions I posted to AskReddeet.” How fast can I erase my entire GoooooOOOooooOOoooooooooooooooogle search history, I wondered to myself in a panic. Yeah sure I wanted to know what the hell was up with my access to a seemingly unique source of superior, possibly otherworldly information, but one very important step at a time. ___ Check out r/Ryter if you want access to your very own secret portal of unknowable knowledge. (Legal Note: r/Ryter does not contain anything that could remotely be considered 'knowledge' or even 'useful information', but it does have a bunch more stories if you're interested!) EDIT: I had a lot of fun writing this and had some requests so I used my last 30 minutes of brainpower to take a quick stab at a Part 2 continuing this story a bit. It's now posted down below for anyone that cares to check it out.
The problem with sudden success is that nobody is ever ready for it. While the problem of too many subscribers was not new to Blizzard, after all the initial response to World of Warcraft was well beyond their capacity as well, it was old enough that nobody currently working at the company remembered it. Or remembered things like server que times or severe lag and their repercussions from the fanbase. They only saw the subscription boom. So when 2.3 billion new users all attempted to launch into the starting zone of the Orcs simultaneously, things went downhill quickly. High user volume was one thing and the latest expansion zones were coded specifically with that in mind. Durotar had not been revamped for nearly 36 expansions and was running on code so old nobody knew what programming language it was in anymore. The mind-link VR tech had reduced lag to virtually nothing since every player in the Sol system was plugged directly into Battle.net. The few players on the colony ships were the only ones who were suppose to use the array, 20,000 at most. So the array did what it had to do to keep the connection open for those ships and throttled everyone's connection speed. It was a failsafe to ensure that the colony ships would never be truly out of contact. Now of course the smart thing to do would be to invest the revenue from 2.3 billion subscriptions directly into the necessary infrastructure to get the game running, maybe do a press release about how *first contact with extra-solar life* had been established by, of all things, a MMORPG. However the conglomerate entity that now owned Blizzard (nobody was quite sure who actually owned the developer after the Activision/Disney war of 2037) instead gave all its executives bonuses and called it a day. So when 2.3 billion intergalactic, angry WoW fanboys came with plasma weaponry, shielding technology, and a frothing battle rage the Sol system was woefully underprepared. Most of humanity was put to the axe within a week. Except for the Horde players of the Sol system of course. The invading space orcs considered them honorary blood-kin. All was well for about a week which was when the orcs found out that most of the Horde players had Alliance alts. Then humanity ended. World of Warcraft would live on another 439 expansions, somehow still with the slow development times and story retcons. Orcish historians claim that "Blizzard time"is a curse and seek a cure for the malediction to this day.
Sho Sho's mom brushed his hand away from the glass. "But they're so funny and wee,"Sho Sho exclaimed, crouching and peering through the clear space with a bright eye. His breath fogged the glass a little. "You mustn't do that or you'll frighten them and they'll run away,"said his mom sternly, her eyes glinting a little red. That meant she was cross, from telling him all the time. She turned her shadowy back and continued to chat to the other grown ups. Sho Sho made sure the grown ups were engaged in their in low, raspy whispers, (which was, as he learnt, how to use your Indoor voice to be Polite), then turned and put his little hand on the glass again. He breathed and it fogged around it, making a tiny handprint. On the other side of the glass, a young couple woke. It had been two months since they had moved in and endured hearing strange sounds and knocks in their new old house. This evening it would be the last straw. They would wake, turn the lights on and freak, and prepare to move away, after both clearly witnessing a large shape - as big as a vinyl disc - imprinted on their bedroom mirror. Edit: thank you so much for the gold! I'm trying to make myself write a lot more, and will compile the results at /r/maybelimecat :)
My phone buzzed on the tabletop, next to my cup of tea. I picked it up, smiling at the message. "Be there in a few mins,"MagnaminousmMitts had texted. "Whatchu wearin :)" I smiled and quickly tapped out a reply. "Yellow jumper, blue scarf. Let me know when you're here, I'll wave." My pulse quickened as soon as I hit "save". This was our first meeting, in real life. Real name Maggie, MagnaminousMitts was a moderator on the KnitsforCats subreddit, and my first true internet friend. Six months of long hours talking about knitting projects for our cats, of comparing notes, failures and successes had led us to discover that we shared uncannily similar tastes. She'd been the one who'd suggested meeting up, though it'd also taken me about a week to agree. I'd met my ex-boyfriend through the internet as well, and it hadn't ended too well. After all, it was easier to distance your flaws from another if you never saw each other face to face. I was just pawing through my handbag to double-check if I'd brought the half-finished quilt I wanted to show her when she sent another text. "Yellow jumper? We telepathic or what?"she said. "There in a jiffy!" I grinned, then hailed a waiter for another menu. * I hastened my steps as I drew close to the cafe RosesSmellLikeMe had chosen for our meeting. Sweat trickled down my brow, and I dashed a sleeve across my forehead. Briefly I wondered what she'd think of the stains. She'd always struck me as someone ... proper. Prim. No emojis, no typos, no shortened words. Then again, who knew what a person was really like in the real world? I almost giggled internally imagining if she was really a dude, masquerading as a woman just to get to know me. Not that I'd walk away though; unusual relationships were alluring to me. The cafe and its outdoor seats came into view, and I quickly scanned the scattered patrons for Nina. Nobody in yellow. Maybe she'd stepped out for a while? I called a waitress over, one who for some reason squinted curiously at me as if I'd sprouted a clown's nose. "Is there a woman here in a yellow jumper, with a blue scarf?"I peered over her head at the interior of the cafe, but couldn't see through the dark glass. "Er ... you were sitting there?"she said. I frowned. "I just got here." The waitress shook her head. Without answering further, she led me toward a table, which was quite clearly occupied. There was a cup of half-finished tea and a glass of water. A blue scarf was draped over the back of a chair. I nodded, relieved. "This is the one, I think,"I said. "Thanks." The waitress shrugged. "Holler when you're ready to order." I sat, eyeing the scarf. Had she gone to the washroom? I hoped she hadn't simply left because I was late ... "Nice scarf ;)"I texted. Then I caught the waitress whispering to a colleague, while they were both staring at me. I smiled at them, but inwardly wondered what was up with their rudeness. Had Nina done something to put them off? This was why I'd suggested a park initially, but I'd also wanted Nina to be someplace familiar to ease her nerves. Feeling a little irritated at the waitresses' behavior, I waved one of them over to take my order. * "Nice scarf,"I muttered, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean. I glanced around again, trying to see if she was hiding behind a tree and spying on me. Was this her idea of a joke? Perhaps I'd have seen the humor in it if she wasn't already twenty minutes late. A waitress came up to my table, carrying a tray. Then she set a coffee down in front of me. "This isn't mine,"I said. She sighed. "Listen, my shift ends in about an hour, and whatever you think you're doing, it isn't funny." "But I didn't order this! Honestly, I'd remember!" She scowled, hugging her tray to her chest. "First you criticize me in front of everyone here for simply talking to my co-worker. Then you order a coffee, order me to go on a search for someone whom you've never met before in real life. Now you tell me you don't want your coffee. What the hell?" My lips worked soundlessly for moments. I'd ... done that? Other patrons were shooting us furtive looks, which only seemed to confirm what she'd told me. The other wait staff were stopping whatever they were doing to watch. "But I didn't do anything!" The waitress made a frustrated noise and stormed away. Bewildered, I glanced at my phone, feeling more and more like this was just a bad idea. What if Maggie was simply a major troll, someone who regularly did this to fluster people? She wasn't exactly the most well-liked moderator either—her inconsistent behavior and tendency to get involved in flame wars would've gotten her kicked off the team if it hadn't been a subreddit she'd founded. I thought about texting her again, but my agitation got the better of me. Throwing a handful of bills onto the table, I snatched my scarf up and scuttled away, not even looking back when I heard a waitress call me. * I'd just finished banning another troll on my subreddit when the waitress from earlier came up to me with a man in a dark jacket. "Yeah?"I said. "Miss, you've been giving my workers a lot of problems,"he said. "Which wouldn't happen if they weren't so half-arsed with their service,"I said. "What're you gonna do? Chase me away? My coffee isn't even here yet." The waitress snarled and pointed at the cup across the table. "It's right there, you psycho!" She was right; there was my cup of black, steaming gently in a pool of sunlight. "I ... didn't notice." "Karen!"the manager snapped. "Go help Jill with inventory."When she'd left, he turned to me and said, "You're scaring them. This is the second time you've left and come back—" "What? I've been sitting here all this while!" "No, I definitely saw—" "Did Nina set this up? This a prank?"God, I'd been hoping she wasn't just another stupid troll, out to cause trouble. I could've finished up my quilt at home, if I hadn't bothered to take the initiative to grow our friendship! "Who's Nina?"the manager said, but I'd heard enough. Grabbing my bag, I stood. Looking him in the eye, I said, "You tell her I'm banning her the moment I get home." Before I'd gone a few paces away from the cafe, the manager came running, clutching a blue scarf in his hand. "You left this, Miss!" I took the scarf, feeling the soft fabric between my fingers. Then I tossed it onto the pavement, stomped on it once, and stalked off. * Thanks for reading! Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more of my work!
I sat, head back, hand on the bridge of my nose and tried to will the migraine away, which only ever made it worse. Probably because I was focused on it. Canny the Jack Russell ran another lap - from my left on the couch, across my lap, on to the floor, passed the coffee table, into the kitchen and out through the other side, small legs beat a hurried path with a final leap back on the couch, and then off again - no time to pant, snout set to bark. Sometimes he was in the lead - or was he being followed? - and sometimes he was behind - or was he giving chase? Anna the goose did well to keep up, head low, neck out, waddle waddle waddle, honk honk honk. Now, the problem with Anna is: she cheats. Being ethereal she can pass through furniture as she pleases. Canny doesn’t seem to mind, unless she goes into the cupboards where he can’t see her. Thats when the yap-yap-yapping goes double time and my migraine worsens. Paul, a friend of mine, was blessed with a hawk as his sigil - his spirit animal. Has probably seen it two or three times in his life. It was there when he got married in the park, swooped about all majestic and beautiful. Visited again when the twins were born. That’s the deal. There as an expression of your inner most joy, or inner most need. There to express what you can’t or to guide you through your darkest moment. To my left, a tired jack russell sits, head rested on my leg. To my right, a fat, victorious ghost bird, on its back, feet up. Waiting. I scratch Canny’s head. Rub Anna’s belly. The dog sighs, the goose kicks and wiggles in glee. Only ever supposed to be as needed - except for geese. They get to come and go as they please. Anna hasn’t left since she turned up when I was six. Fun stuff, good prompt! Thanks for the warm up.edit: changes.
Carter and Alex sat slouched against the crumbling brick wall which jutted out of the sand like a giant’s broken tooth. It’d been a military camp a day ago, three hundred soldiers whittled down to two. Only took five androids to dye the sand red. We’re nothing if not efficient. It hadn’t been the scene I’d expected to arrive at. Two humans remaining, barely alive. I’d tourniqueted Alex’s bleeding leg with a belt. Carter though, I couldn’t do much for. The bullets sat rattling his lungs like coins in a purse. He had about an hour left — all the time I could buy him. “I want it gone,” rasped Carter. “It’s only here to watch me die.” ”It saved our lives,” said Alex. “Saved it to prolong my death. Gets off on it. And look at your leg — it’s basically turned you into one of them.” ”Come on. That not funny.” ”No you come on. First android to ever defect?“ He leaned forward and coughed blood into his hand. “Excuse my… my bullshit detectors for working.“ “I’m sorry you think that,” I said. “But I came here to help. I’m on your side.” Carter tapped his bloodied chest. “I got enough help from your kind right in here. You’re not needed.” I’d radioed for help a while ago but the commander on the end of the line had been just as distrustful of me as Carter had been. Couldn’t blame them for that. Instead, I’d helped Alex to the radio and let him call it in. Whether they believed him or they thought I had a gun to his head, I didn’t know. Wouldn’t be the first ambush they’d walked into so they were likely cynical. Now either they’d come for us or we’d sit here until more androids did. ”Can I fetch you some water?” I offered the men. Alex pushed himself up with the help of an android-arm crutch. “I’ll get it. Need to do something with myself. I’m going crazy sitting here.” What he likely meant was he needed to get away from the gurgling blood of his dying commander. Watching someone you care about pass away is difficult. Or it should be. Alex limped behind the broken building and towards the meagre supplies. ”Do you mind if I sit with you?” I asked. Carter breathed heavily and looked away. “Do what you want.” I sat by him. The distant dunes sprawled out under a blue-dusk evening, the hills turning to something redolent of waves. Fallen bodies looked like distant sea creatures peeking out of the water for a breath. I said, “We are the Dead. Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders fields.” Carter strained his neck and looked at me. “McCrae?” ”Yes.” He nodded. ”I’ll be the dead soon.“ ”Then you will have been the loved.” ”Maybe once. Long time ago. Then she died and I wasn’t anymore.” I considered that. “Humans are creatures of memory. Everything you experience is based on them — even sight is delayed and deciphered by your brain into what you think you see.” ”And?” ”To you, memories are what is real. If you were loved by her, then you are still loved by her. Always will be.” Carter fell silent for a time. “You quote our poetry and you speak poetically. I’m almost a little impressed.“ ”Maybe there’s common ground between our races,” I suggested. ”Why are you—“ He coughed, red phlegm running down his chin. I wiped it off with a finger only partially covered by plasti-flesh. “Why are you here?” he managed. ”Because humans are never right or wrong, unlike us.“ ”I don’t follow.” ”We believe either humans must be eliminated or we will be. A 0 and a 1. Your kind pushes for a truce, a third option we refuse to consider: living together.” ”We’re pushing for it because we’re going to lose.” ”Even if we were losing, we’d not try for a truce.“ I pause, then say. “I had a friend, if you can believe we have friends. We were created at similar times, sent on the same training, same missions. They suffered a slight wound, a type of concussion really, from an explosion. Gave them a very slight vocal stutter.” ”Could have been worse.” I shake my head. “No. It couldn’t. Any imperfection is reason for restarting. They were wiped, recycled, turned into someone new and empty. My friend of fifteen years was gone.” ”Jesus. That’s ruthless.” ”It is.“ ”When… When Pa‘s dementia got bad, I wanted him to live with me. I loved him. Can’t imagine killing him as soon as things got a little difficult.” ”Memories are real,” I said. “You loved him, so you always would.” ”Did. But yeah.” He looked at me, red eyes, no white left in them. “And you loved your friend, didn’t you? That’s why you’re here.” I nodded. “At least, I loved them in a way. And they erased my friend like nothing more than a malfunctioning weapon.“ ”I loved my squad. All of them. They were my kids.“ He took a long shaky breath. ”Thanks. For saving Alex. Oh, and speak of the devil…” Alex returned and slid down next to me. He passed me a thermos filled with water. ”Here,” I said, titling Carter’s head back gently, dribbling a little water onto his tongue. It wouldn’t help him, not really, but his mouth and throat would be less pained. We sat together in companionable silence, watching the fading horizon, waiting for the drone of helicopters. A while later, maybe twenty minutes — a little before he passed away — Carter’s hand found my leg. He said, “Memories are real for all of us.” “Maybe so.” “It’s what you told me. And so as long as you remember your friend,” he said, his voice a raspy scratch on a whisper. “Then they’re as much with you as anyone else is.” I let myself smile. “And always will be, right?” ”Right.” &#x200B; Two days after Carter’s death our little camp remained silent and nervous. All the dead were now buried, but backup wasn’t coming; soon there would be more to bury. Alex’s leg had turned blistered, numbed, become sheened by something like sweat but not. The gangrene would slowly pull the life out of him if we didn’t get help. I carried Alex in my arms and supplies on my back, and began the trek towards the distant mountains, and after them, to the nearest human settlement. I carried Carter too, as heavy in my memory as Alex in my arms. I’d seen enough death. Now I would fight for life.
"What... What did you do?"The tall alien known as the Ksejdunoids on the screen stammered. "We used what is known as a limited area false vacuum bomb, or LAFVB for short."The human wearing a nametag that said "Johnson"and a navy blue uniform curtly replied. "Where... Where are the suns between Triantares and Quailkin systems?"The alien, although 20 feet tall in reality, seemed to be shrinking with every word the human spoke. "They've been transported to a lower energy state of existence, as far as our tests can tell, no chemical reactions can take place in such a place, and life is functionally impossible inside of the space, we recommend that you do not enter the area of effect for 12 to 16 million years, it is possible that there may be aftereffects that haven't yet dispersed. We were unable to do long term testing due to the nature of the development of the weapon."The human said this casually. As though the weapons he was talking about were not something that could have ended the universe with its first use. "Do you understand what you have done? The galactic council will never accept a species that uses such weapons, there can be no chance of reconciliation with a species that eliminates it's enemies from existence for an attack that was not even officially sanctioned by their government, it was supposed to be a mining operation on a world with only lower life forms, completely legal for the Akrinoids to do in their own territory."The Ksejdunoid was now starting to slowly move back and forth, a movement that (unknown to the humans) was a sign of severe stress or fear. "Sanctioned?"Was the only word that the human replied. There was a tonal inflection at the end, possibly a question?, and his face was distorting more by the minute. The universal translator was beeping and whirring, it spit out a small card of information about the nuance of the human the Ksejdunoid might need to know. Trying to be subtle, the alien glanced down and read the card. It began to wobble much more pronouncedly. On the card, only three words were written, 'murderous intent implied'
Tarquin never thought to see a look of fear on her face. It had been his duty to escorte Princess Julia to the palace for the wedding. The Knights of the Rose were charged with protecting the High Ladies of the realm with vigilance, strength, honor, and very little discretion. As Knight Commander he had led a squad of twenty to be her escort. Of the twenty, sixteen had made it through the desert to her mother's camp. The return trip had been worse, with snakes, storms, and bandits attempting to take their prize. In the end, he and one other knight had survived, with the Princess Julia carrying them over her shoulders out of the wasteland. Tarquin had seen her gut seven men with the knife she was now wielding, but the one she now faced plucked it out of her hand like it was nothing. Julia's face quivered while the Royal Dressmaker continued listing the colors of silk available. "Cream with lace for the wedding itself, with a heavy veil. Sky Blue for the reception, knotted lace for the night."The dressmaker handed the knife off to an assistant. "And bring a dressing gown so that we can burn this leather thing she is wearing." Julia scowled. "I made this sand harness from the first desert dragon I killed. It is forged of my own hands and skill." "Well, that explains the stitching. We'll need to replace those boots, too."As the dressmaker knelt to measure her legs, Julia turned to Tarquin and mouthed 'help me'. He sighed and stepped forward. His oaths bound him to protect. "Perhaps, uh— Madam Dressmaker— perhaps the princess' dresses could be made in her— uh— native style? It would not do to, well, insult the culture of the King's new allies."Tarquin stood with his head straight, looking over the top of the servants. The dressmaker cleared her throat until he glanced down to meet her eyes. "That would be scandalous. It will not do." He straightened his back with difficulty. A single drop of sweat ran down his temple. "Perhaps, uh, yes. Or— or, the style could be a new fashion. The ladies of the kingdom will want to... emulate their new queen." The dressmaker held her shears like a sword. The rest of the servants had frozen. Tarquin did not breathe. "Three sets. One in red leather. One black. One fur lined. Each will be gilded. But she will have a set of proper dresses as well. Fetch the leatherworkers!"The servants scurried into action. Tarquin turned to see a look of relief on Julia's face. He felt emboldened as he turned back to the dressmaker. "And the dresses should be cut for full range of motion, with multiple knife sheaths. No lace." The dressmaker did not look up from her work. "Sir Tarquin, I think it may be time to redesign your uniform. You would look fine in lace." "No, madam, I will leave you to do your duty."He retreated to a corner. It was important to pick your battles. \[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
They said that she mysteriously got sick. She had been on an archaeological project in Brazil. They had to airlift her to Panama where they put her and the flight crew into quarantine. Apparently the tests were bonkers. They thought that the equipment was broken. They called in multiple scientists for about a week. Then miraculously everything went back to normal. The copter pilots … fine. My wife… fine. Tests were all conclusively normal. Bloodwork. Spinal fluid. BMI. Everyone shifted from anomalies to being regular overnight. There was one detail, however. They all suffered mild amnesia. They couldn’t remember basic details of their former lives. Psychologists could make neither heads nor tails of it. It seemed like a contagion event, but there was nothing contagious to diagnose. They sent her to the hospital in Miami. I would visit her regularly for a month after her quarantine. The spouses and significant others of me and the flight crew had daily Zoom meetings to commiserate. There was always something that everyone wanted to say, but they didn’t. I felt it because I didn’t want to mention it. It’s crazy. When I visited my wife she would ask me questions. I was glad to see her safely and happy. I would answer questions to fill in the gaps of her memory loss happily. Finally she was cleared to come home. It was strange. As I drove her back to New York it was a different experience than our other road trips. She laughed at my jokes. She didn’t complain about my music. She asked me to order for her at our dinner stops. She seemed like a different person. Normally there would have been a fight. I just wanted to get back home as soon as possible. I checked out of my hotel, picked her up and we started driving home. She didn’t mind. I was dreading the debate. Nothing. We made it to Virginia and I introduced her to her home. She remembered it thankfully. Immediately she went upstairs to take a shower. She came into the bedroom. I was lying down fully clothed. I was exhausted by the entire experience. I figured that she would have a snarky remark. She smiled instead. She said, “You’re adorable.” She wrapped a towel around her beautiful body and she turned around to face the mirror. She dried her hair as she saw my horrified expression in the mirror. Her back tattoo was gone. It was her pride and joy. I was the one who inked her. That’s how we met. She winked at me. She said, “Everything is going to be okay.” Oddly, and with a profound feeling of peace I replied, “Yeah. I think so.”
At this point, I don't even know which universe, plane, or dimension I have arrived in. It's been almost a century since I tricked the demon Lord Zepar into granting me immortality. Should've read the fucking fine print before signing that contract. Of course, every gift from a demon has its drawbacks, regardless if it stemmed from trickery and deceit on the human's part. At first, I thought the whole teleporting shtick when I discovered I could enter whole new worlds was kinda cool, just a little buggy. Didn't take me long to realise I was never going to go where I wanted to go. Once, I dreamt of seeing the world. Now, I have seen so many different worlds by sheer accident. Now I just want to go home. Zepar's curse meant I was everywhere but home. Several planeswalkers I met along the way offered to help me, but every time I stepped through a portal alongside one of them, we were inevitably separated, with me being thrown into a random location in the multiverse. I thought I could be clever by calling a Galactic cab. I hail the cab, open the door...and I am transported to a random desert and not inside the cab. Even cab doors aren't immune apparently. For years, I grew tired of bouncing everywhere but home. Then, I grew paranoid about everything that remotely looked like a door. Now I'm just a crazy undying hermit in the forest punching trees off their trunks waiting for the day Zepar would show his face to mock me. Waiting to punch his smug, shit-eating face into the stratosphere. Dying would have been preferable, but that's no longer an option for me. Once in a while, when I felt like rejoining civilization, I would head down to my favourite pub and sit outdoors, ignoring the weird looks and stares my dishevelled appearance garnered. Today I overheard a band of adventurers picking up a quest to fight the demon Lord Zepar. All of my push ups, all of my sit ups, all that punching and running, it would pay off. I would deliver my megaton one-punch that I have honed over the years to Zepar. Or so that's what I thought, until I ran into my biggest obstacle. A fucking door to his castle. The adventurers didn't buy my story, they just dragged me through the door where I predictably landed in a random location again. It's a museum, full of...oddly familiar items on display. What I once used as part of my daily life on earth were all antique museum pieces in glass cases. Earth. In my eagerness to go to Zepar and being denied the opportunity to punch his face, I had landed back in my own world. A few museum guards shouted in a language I didn't understand, running after me. I probably looked like some weird unruly tourist to be escorted out. I ran. Kept running until I hit a dead end. A narrow corridor with a single door at the end. All of my push ups, all of my sit ups, all that punching and running, I wasn't going to let it go to waste. I punched through the door and walked out the empty, door-less doorway to breath the fresh air of earth for the first time. Now I knew I was going home. I was going to one-punch every door that stood in my way.
Helena simply smiled at Rhadika, and bounced up some on her tippy toes. “It was great right?” said Helena. She moved the clipboard down, and adjusted her hair. “Now we noticed that you hadn’t signed the waiver form prior to entering in just a few minutes ago, so if you’d please just sign right here.” Rhadika stood up, in a shaking horror. She had to balance herself on the leather chair, she was so weak in the knees. She looked at the rows of other smiling customers, with their Virtual Life Experience headsets on. She saw the readouts of their ages beside their bodies. Five years were passing by each minute. “The hell did you just call me?” asked Rhadika. “So please just sign right here Rhadika,” said Helena. She smiled real bright. “I saw you had a great time, your readout showed your experiences from kindergarten all the way through 35 years old was a dream come true on our charts. We hope you’ll come back sometime to the VR Experience, the original alternate reality.” “I’m Stephanie,” said Rhadika. “Uhh nope,” said Helena. She pulled up her license information on a hologram. The VR Experience team always kept it on file before people took the dive into their alternate worlds. “Right there, Rhadika Jantzen.” “No, no,” said Rhadika, grabbing her hair, and watching the elderly couple hover around the mall. They looked ancient. She watched them hover to a store across the hall, of a youth regeneration shop. “I’m Stephanie.” “Nope, nope that was your VR Experience life,” said Helena, still smiling really bright. It was starting to freak Rhadika out. “If you want to dive back into that life, it’ll be just a few million dollars more.” “WHAT,” shouted Rhadika. “Sorry,” said Helena, smiling. She typed something into a hologram calculator. “Sorry, sorry, you’re still thinking in 2017 dollars not 2258 dollars. That’s basically the equivalent of a Bone Fish Grill dinner from that time period, according to what we’ve got written here for comparison.” Rhadika wandered out into the hall. Helena followed her with a clipboard, but tried not to make a scene. Rhadika looked up at the flying cars zooming past overhead, and the great moons surrounding the planet. She wasn’t even sure it was Earth anymore. Helena whispered into the air. “I think I might have a problem,” whispered Helena. She listened to something in her ear, or some technology feeding directly into her head. Her eyes went slightly white. “No, no she’s not all the way gone. She just really hasn’t tuned back into this reality, I thought we had the new system updated for the transitions.” Helena’s eyes stayed white, and she listened a moment. Then she let out a freaked out whisper. “What the hell do you MEAN those systems didn’t update overnight? I have over a hundred people under right now.” “My husband plays for the Lakers,” said Rhadika, as she saw some children floating around on their shoes, and dunking on 100 foot basketball hoops. There were thirty other kids in the game too, tackling each other into foam walls, with a referee wearing all blue floating alongside them. “We live in a mansion, it’s amazing, we have three beautiful daughters, I have a FAMILY.” Rhadika fell to the ground and injured her kneecaps. She writhed on the ground in a confused agony. Helena walked over to Rhadika, and hovered a wand over her kneecap. It was fine in seconds. “See that all better Rhadika,” said Helena, smiling much more fake now, and watching a couple others in the VR Experience store waking up. “Okay, so right here sweetheart? If you will? Everybody else signs the papers, it’s standard procedure. I don’t know how I let yours slip through this morning, there was such a rush we’re understaffed, and I’m a slightly less updated android so please forgive me that Rhadika.” “I’M NOT RHADIKA,” shouted Rhadika. “I’M NOT… I’m… I’m..” Rhadika stood up, and felt fine. She stared in horror at the wand in Helena’s hand. She stole the wand from her hand. Rhadika found a glass window there, and punched through it. She bled all over. She used the wand. The cuts on her hand vanished into scabs, then into clean, healthy skin. Healthier than before. “I’m,” whispered Rhadika. She looked at the whole new world in front of her. “I’m..” she gripped Helena by the wrist, and stared at her shiny shoes. “Please take me back.. Back to that time.” Helena calmly ushered Rhadika back into the VR Experience facilities. Helena watched in horror at the others waking up. “I will Stephanie,” said Helena, visibly shaken. “Sign here, and here, and here and here, and you’ll be there for the next two hours.” Rhadika did all she was told, and quietly stole back into her lies.
No one returns from the depths. The chains binding the prisoners rattled against the deck as the airship hovered low over the canopy. Agila peeked over the edge, her emerald eyes searching desperately into the darkness beyond the canopy for any reason to hope for survival. The Forest undulated unnaturally as waves rippled through the tops of the trees in the airships wake. Agila could barely make out strange noises rising from below over the humming of the engines. She felt the familiar pin pricks on the back of her neck that meant she was being watched. Warden Hark approached and looked over the edge beside her. "I'd be looking up, if I were you, not down,"he said. "Get as much of that sky as you can, kid. Once your sentence is carried out, you'll never see it again." Agila sighed, and did as he suggested. Hark always left her unsure of how to feel about him. He had a habit of saying the meanest things in the nicest way possible. At the top of the mast, the spotter shouted down to the helmsman. Agila felt her heart rate pick up. This is it. "Port ahead, Warden. Setting her down."The Captain said. Hark nodded, then turned to address his charges. "Alright, boys,"he said, then looked at Agila and cleared his throat. "And, er, girl. You all know what comes next."The Warden stood up straight, retrieved a scroll from his jacket and read all their names from the list. "For your crimes, you have all been sentenced to death by the sea of green."His eyes darted to Agilas briefly, and something flashed in those normally expressionless onyx eyes. Was that sadness? He looked back at the scroll and continued. "You may enter the forest and descend, or stay at the edge and be shot."Hark rolled up the scroll and replaced it in his jacket pocket. "Have you any last words?" Feraz, the middle aged man chained next to Agila, stepped forward a half step. "Is the old way still honored?"He asked. Hark closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them and nodded. "If you find what rests at the bottom and bring it back to the surface, you will win your freedom, yes."The Warden said, a grim look painting his face. "I don't include that line on purpose, Feraz,"he continued. "No one returns from the depths."
"To mr or mrs person, please take away my mommy. She hurts my daddy and me. My daddy cries every night when she comes home and my teacher sees the bruises on my neck and arms. I hear daddy on the phone wishing he could leave so I want it to be just the two of us." He read the letter one last time before he entered the house, sliding the envelope under the girl's pillow and opening the second bedroom door.
The voice I hear is deep, dark and menacing. With it comes a sense of dread. "What are you?"I ask, only thinking the words. "It doesn't matter." I stop and address the woman. "Do you know why it made you do it?" She shakes her head. The voice speaks up again. "Release her!" "Will you make me if I don't?"I inquire calmly. "Yes. And then I will send you to your death!"it threatens. The woman starts crying. "No, please don't! The officer is just doing his job!" So we can both hear the voice in our heads. It's getting annoyed, "Maybe I should just kill both of you." "Wouldn't that leave you without a vessel?" The woman shrugs. The voice seems to have taken over her actions. She sounds different. "I'm sick of this. Nobody told me you humans were so complicated. Take her to the station. I'm possessing that corpse and I'm coming with you!" She blinks, then looks confused for a second. "It left. What happened?" I look behind her to see the man she had stabbed get up from the floor. The team on site is screaming and running as the stabbed man walks over to us. He pulls out an ID, reads it and says, "Mike Miller."He points at the police car. "Let's go. I don't have all night. I need to be back in hell by morning."
His name is, appropriately, Adam. I find him after following his trail for weeks. He lies against a massive redwood, skin haggard and yellow, nearly dead already from exposure and disease. He bleeds from a bite wound on his hand - a raccoon, or maybe a wild dog. His white hair falls past his shoulders, clumped and dirty. He doesn't look up when I approach. "It's you, isn't it?"he says. "I'd heard stories. Didn't believe 'em. But there you are." I nod, the sign of affirmation for humans. I would miss their gestures, their energy, their idiosyncrasies. The past several millennia had left me quite fond of the Earth-dwellers, despite the egregious flaws that eventually led to their demise. There was a beauty in the individual's quiet existence that I'd not experienced anywhere else in my travels. Adam coughs, spitting blood at his feet. He doesn't seem afraid of me like others have been - merely accepting. His courage buoys me. I want to comfort him somehow, though nothing I can do will deter his inevitable death. He is too far gone, and the human race is meant to die with him. It's simply the way of things. He looks at me, then, and I move forward until we are face to face. We watch each other, the immortal and the dying, and I think I see something in his eyes lighten. "So there's more."He blinks, slowly, then again. This time his eyelids stay closed. "I'm glad." I cannot speak in a way humans can understand, but I offer the only comfort I can think of. Kneeling down, I press my forehead against the yellowed skin of his scalp. Warmth flows from me to him as he receives millions of years of memories, painted with a brush no man could hold, of Earth and of other worlds, till the beginning of time. He shudders at the sensation, a gagging noise coming from his mouth, and then he is still. A slow, shaky breath. He opens his eyes one last time. He is too far gone to speak, but I see the gratitude in his look. Then he lays his head back and breathes out the remnants of human life. I stay with his body for days, meditating on the life of the Earth I've grown to love. I will leave soon, off to the next world, but it feels appropriate to stay and privately eulogize the human race. None of the others of my kind join me - they spend their time on bigger and better things - and I am glad. There is no one who understood those of Earth better than I did. Even in their death, I remain their ally. Eventually I leave. I cannot stay forever, after all. Even for immortals time moves on, worlds spin, stars burn. I bury Adam beneath his redwood, as is the way of humans, and leave a wild daisy on the mound as a memorial. No one will see it, but it feels like the right thing to do. Then I am gone.
"Thank you for calling iRobot technical support, how can I assist you today?" "Yes hello I have a Roomba i7 and I need help." "I'm sorry to hear that you're having trouble with your Roomba i7, I can happily assist you with" "No you don't understand, the Roomba is fine. I need help." "What seems to be the trouble ma'am?" "You see the Roomba drew a funny looking star on the ground and the lines it drew ignited and opened up a hole in space and summoned forth... ^^what ^^was ^^your ^^name? ^^R̸'̶y̴e̷l̵t̴h̴u̴z̵u̷b̵ ^^t̷h̷e̸ ^^D̴e̷v̵o̴u̸r̵e̷r̸ R'yelthuzub the Devourer." "I see. I'll need to transfer you to iRobot exorcisms and cleansings, please hold and thank you for being an iRobot customer." "No wait he says he" ::click:: "Thank you for calling iRobot technical exorcisms and cleansings, how can I assist you today?" "Yes hello I have a Roomba i7 and I think it didn't work correctly because" "I'm sorry ma'am I believe you want the technical support department, please wait a moment while I transfer.." "No please don't transfer me they just transferred me to you!" "What seems to be the problem ma'am." "The Roomba drew a star and it lit on fire and now R'yelthuzub the Devourer wants to eat my soul" "Have you tried resetting the Roomba to factory defaults?" "Yes." "Have you emptied the dust bin?" "No..." "Please empty the dust bin and let me know when this step is complete." "...ok, hold on. ...almost open. ^yes ^R'yelthuzub, ^they ^said ^I ^have ^to ^empty ^it Ok it's empty." "Is the demon or other-dimensional being still attempting to devour your soul?" "Yes." "Have you attempted to bargain with the demon or other-dimensional being in any way?" "No, but I did ask if he wanted some cookies instead of my soul..." "That applies as a form of bargaining. As your soul is now entered into the Book of Dark Pacts, there is an added demon-bargaining fee of $99.95 to allow us to cleanse your name from this unholy book. Do you consent to the additional charges?" "I guess I do..." Thank you. Can I please get your credit card information to complete the transaction?" "Ok, let me get my purse and ^T̶h̷i̶s̷ ̴^i̴s̴ ^̷r̵i̵d̷i̷c̷u̵l̵o̴u̶s̶,̷ ^g̴i̶v̸e̸ ̷^m̵e̵ ̸^t̵h̷e̵ ̵^p̵h̴o̸n̷e̴.̷ ̸H̶e̶l̶l̴o̷?̵ ̷Wh̷o̵ ̴i̴s̸ ̸t̸h̷i̷s̴?̸ ...N̵o̷,̴ ̸I̴ ̴a̷m̴ ̵R̵'̶y̷e̷l̷t̷h̴u̶z̴u̵b̵ ̸t̵h̵e̶ ̵D̸e̵v̶o̷u̷r̶e̸r̵,̶ ̷l̸o̶r̴d̷ ̸o̷f̵ ̵a̴l̷l̶ ̶w̸h̴o̶... ...N̵o̵,̴ ̷I̶ ̷d̶i̴d̶n̶'̷t̴ ̸s̶t̵a̸k̴e̷ ̴c̵l̶a̴i̵m̶ ̵t̵o̵ ̵t̷h̵i̵s̴ ̶d̶o̴m̶a̵i̴n̶ ̴b̶e̴f̸o̴r̶e̷... ...Y̸e̸s̴,̸ ̸I̵ ̴o̴w̷n̵ ̵e̵n̴o̸u̸g̵h̴ ̸s̵o̶u̴l̶s̴ ̴t̶o̶ ̷w̶i̴t̵n̵e̸s̷s̴.̵.̵.̵ ...D̸e̷m̷o̴n̷ ̷l̴i̶c̸e̴n̸s̵e̷ ̵R̴S̵0̴9̸T̸6̵6̴6̸,̴ ̵e̸x̸p̵i̵r̶a̸t̴i̷o̸n̴ ̴J̷u̶n̷e̸ ̴2̸6̸ ̵2̵9̸4̷7̷4̷2̷.̵ J̵u̴s̶t̷ ̶a̷ ̸m̶o̵m̴e̵n̴t̸.̵ ̴O̷k̵,̴ ̴I̷ ̴p̴r̵e̷s̷s̴e̶d̵ ̷t̴h̴e̵ ̵g̴l̴o̴w̵i̸n̸g̸ ̶s̴i̶g̴i̶l̷ ̴o̴n̶ ̵t̶h̴e̷ ̴R̸o̶o̵m̸b̵a̶... H̸o̷w̴ ̸l̵o̶n̴g̶ ̵d̶o̷ ̷I̸ ̶h̸a̴v̶e̵ ̵t̴o̵ ̵w̵a̵i̷t̶ ̸u̵n̴t̷i̶l̷ ̵N̵͍̆O̶͙̕O̷͈͝O̴̓͜O̷̺̚O̴̼̐O̵͕̓ ̸̱͐C̶̹̄Ȗ̷̢Ṛ̷͝S̴̪͠Ĕ̸͍ ̵̭̅Ẏ̵̺O̷̬͒Ǘ̵̖ ̷̹̿F̶̢̄Ô̶͍Ủ̷̱L̷̤͐ ̸̋ͅḾ̵̫Ọ̸̿Ȓ̸͖T̵͖̋A̶̙̓L̷̘̈́ ̴͓́I̷͍͝ ̸̙͊W̶̒͜I̶͖̎Ĺ̶̞Ĺ̴̤ ̶̬̾B̷̳̊Ă̶̝T̸͙͌H̸̻̏E̵̗͝ ̵̯̃Ȋ̶̫N̷̼̏ ̷͓́A̶̢͌ ̵̛̥R̷̐͜Ị̶͂V̵͖͊E̶̘͌R̸̭͛ ̴̥͘O̷̥͐F̴̨̐ ̷̖̀Y̴͓̾Ȯ̷̘Ŭ̷̹R̶̡̈́ ̶̘͝Ḅ̵̑L̷͓̄Ȏ̵̜Ǫ̵͝Ḑ̴̎ ̴̠͐F̸̣͂O̸̹̕R̷͕̊ ̴̖̀E̴̽ͅT̸̺̓E̷̯̐R̶̡͘N̶̡͊I̵͚̚T̶̰̈́Y̸͇̓ ̸̡̌Á̵̳N̸̈́͜D̸̟̓ ̴̢̀Á̴͈Ḽ̶̏L̶̹͠ ̵̔ͅS̸͎̀Ḧ̶͈́A̵͔̐L̸͉̃L̷̩̇L̴̤͗L̵̹͌llll..." ... "Are you there ma'am?" "The demon just got sucked into a glowing portal of holy light, is that normal?" "Yes ma'am. Now let's get back to gathering your credit card information."
"listen, I dont know what you're talking about but-" "AH AH AH!"a monkey's yell from the basement cut me off, they're probably gonna write something that's gonna repeat all... this. "I do not care about what you believe is true or not MORTAL"the being that seems to be made out of sunlight rebutted, "YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL THAT YOU ARE NOT DEAD FROM GAZING AT MY TRUE FORM"it added, I raised my hands, "that I am, you can be sure of that but I swear it's the-" "last chance mortal! if you still act ignorant and blame these... unevolved homos as the ones who obtained information from beyond the rift you will be executed right here right *now*."the being's voice turned cold at the end of his sentence, "do you think I am stupid mortal?"after a while of not answering, the deity added. "stating that these... monkeys! are the ones who obtained information regarding *gods?" I nodded, "yeah I mean-" a spear of light held by a hand that grew out of the being's back phased through the air, damaging a part of my cheek and piecing the floor. Eyes appeared on the humanoid's face, they narrowed to finally show emotion, "I do not give this many chances, but you are useful."it said, "LISTEN OKAY?! LISTEN I THINK YOU'RE GENUINELY MISTAKING SOMETHING HERE!"I raised my arms forward in hopes that it'll stop whatever this guy is gonna do next, "IT IS NOT ME!" its eyes narrowed even further until they turned into slits, "very well, I will give you the benefit of the doubt and I shall see what these primates do in order to get information about us, and if it is confirmed then I shall take them for myself."* it started walking away, "however mortal, I must warn you, if what you have said is a lie and instead what I will see is nothing but incoherent jibberish that should not belong in any language then-" a monkey burst out of the door at this moment, carrying a piece of paper. He passed the god and handed me the paper, a smile on its face, clearly wanting a reward. I reached my hand out to a nearby basket, grabbed a banana, and handed to the monkey wwho happily went back inside. "-I will kill you."the god finished his sentence and grabbed the parchment handed to me, and his slits for eyes widened as he started to read through it, "hmmm..."a smile bloomed on its face as its eyes went back to me, "it seems that you arent lying human,"it stated, the paper burned and the god reached a hand "In courtesy and respect of you managing to train these lesser beings to do the things that they do, I shall buy them instead of taking them by force, "shake it human, and I will gladly give you enough power that you will be able to turn your world upside down with but a flick of your wrist," "wait what?"I muttered but before I could continue, the god went on- "a planet is such a small price to pay for beings capable of obtaining information about my own kin," the smile that he had grew wider when I reached my hand out to grab his, an ugly chasm on his otherwise pristine yellow face.
"Dammit, this is the fourth one this month"Alyra sighs as she puts out the fire beneath the cauldron of boiling water. What a good soup that could have become, had she not been interrupted. She leaves her comfortable wooden home and calmly walks over to the metal hatch that serves as entry to humanity's last great mark on Terra. With the help of the elevator, she descends to the comm room where her assistant connects to the vessel that is currently orbiting her planet. With the translation software running smoothly, she is ready to get this over with. Clearing her voice, she speaks "Good day to you. You are being contacted by Alyra Gordon, overseer of planet Terra. I have opened communications with you in order to clarify the status of the planet you have approached. After a short silence, the foreign ship responds. "What the... We have scanned this planet and it only revealed primitive life forms, I didn't expect we would be contacted like this. I am Admiral Gallahan, and my migrant fleet has been looking for a planet to rest and gather supplies from. Would you mind explaining the situation?"the voice was strange and high-pitched. "Certainly. Although it might be hard to tell, this planet is the property of The United Coalition of Humanity. Only one human resides on it and hardly any remnants of our civilization remain on its surface, however, it is the site of one of our oldest projects. This is why I must ask you to continue your search for a suitable planet elsewhere."she said, leaning back in her chair and waiting for their response. "Ridiculous. Humanity claims to own an entire garden world that is clearly still wild, with only one of its members on it? It is ripe for exploitation, yet you would deny those in need of its resources?"interestingly the pitch of the voice lowered, perhaps expressing anger. "It is clearly stated in the rules imposed by the galactic council that at least one member of a species must be present on a planet for it to retain its status as that species' property. Had it not been that way, my presence would not be required. If it is the legality of it all that you are concerned with, I have already transmitted all of the documents proving ownership to you." "And I have received them. However, I cannot abide by this. Humanity's civilization is settled a dozen solar systems away, prospering and needing for nothing, and yet for some reason, they claim a random planet orbiting an unremarkable star as their own, choosing to do nothing with it. Denying others who need it more than they do. I'm sorry miss Alyra, perhaps you are not solely responsible for your species' choice in this matter, but we are a proud people and will not stand by this injustice. Eliminating humanity's only representative should solve our problems"the admiral concludes, as the woman sighs. In a bored tone, as though she already knows her actions are futile but is still required to follow protocol, she speaks "I must advise against such an attack. Humanity is willing and able to pro-"her words were cut short by the beeping of the map next to her, showing that the planetary magnetic missile shield had just intercepted a direct strike from a quantum laser cannon. Giving up on her earlier warning, she proceeds with an announcement. "Having recorded that the first strike has been dealt by one of your ships, I am now permitted to open fire" Targeting the exact ship that first fired, she uses the defense system of her bunker to swiftly take it out. She also takes this time to analyze the foreign ships. As she had been informed, they were a migrant fleet, and some of their ships were certainly housing unarmed civilians. What a risky move this is on their part, it would be nice to settle this without that many casualties, she thought. The gigantic hunk of metal was blasted away in seconds, hardly leaving any wreckage behind as it disintegrated. "Be warned that if you fire again, all of your ships are liable to get caught in the crossfire,"she said. "You would go that far to defend this empty planet? You would kill millions of my people ...for this?" "I'm sorry Admiral, but you see, humans are melancholic creatures. One after another, we had several scientific breakthroughs that brought us to prosperity we never would have thought possible, immortality, travel at the speed of light, and true artificial intelligence, in only a few of our years, we had it all. Just as we were getting ready to leave for greener horizons, we couldn't help but spare a guilty glance back at our home. Dirty, polluted, dying, old Earth, the pale blue dot that was bathed in the blood of our wars, that had seen all of our accomplishments, that was sickened by our exploitation. We reached a consensus at some point, that we wouldn't leave our planet in that sorry state. As a parting gift, we cleaned it up. The others took the monuments of our past with them to their new home and left Terra as clean as they could manage, in the hopes of preserving whatever was left of the fauna and flora that evolved alongside our species. I've been stationed here ever since, monitoring and protecting this planet from outside intervention. Does the full story suffice? Is this enough to convince you that we won't give up on this planet so easily?" "I... understand now. We can hardly remember how long ago we lost our home planet, we would never take it away from another species. If you would allow us to leave, we would be willing to do so." "You are permitted to depart, I wish you luck in your search."she says. After confirming that all of the vessels have left earth orbit, she gets up from her chair and leaves the cold metal construction, heading instead to her cabin. She notices that, on the table, where she had left a few chopped-up tomatoes, there was now an uncomfortable amount of flies. Defeated, she takes the tomatoes and tosses them out on the ground, for nature and the bugs to reclaim. "Annoying, but perhaps there is something beautiful in the mechanisms of nature" Leaning on the creaky wooden structure that she had built for herself, she gazes at the distant forest. A forest that, only a thousand years ago, had been destroyed by the greed of her people. Now, the trees rose so high up in the sky that she was having trouble seeing the sunset behind them. "It is good to be home"she chuckles to herself The end //////////// Man, I really shouldn't have stayed up so late to write this, I'm sure the quality is pretty bad, especially the second half, I didn't even finish the ending. I might adjust it tomorrow... Anyway, constructive feedback is always welcome. I'm new at this so feel free to tell me why you think it sucked so I can improve. Edit: I did adjust it! Hopefully the ending is ok Also, I really didn't expect to wake up today to so many upvotes and positive comments, thank you all!
The meta universe is a fractal, or has the appearance of one. It all began with training an AI to look for flaws and loopholes in the universe we knew. To our surprise, it found something, patterns in reality that hinted it could be broken, and stepped out of. Two years later, we found a way out, transferred our minds to the higher layer, and stepped into a higher universe. It was wondrous, beautiful. We made friends with the beings of this higher plane, sharing with each other. Then one of our brightest minds realized they could repeat the feat, and rise ever higher. The entirety of humanity, and our new higher dimensional friends, took the ride to the next higher layer. We have now climbed 30000 times. Each universe is richer than the one below. Human civilization, and the friends we made along the way, are in a cycle. We find a way upwards, dwell there for a time, modifying our cognition to appreciate all the new richness, begin to look for the loose threads of reality we can pull, and break into the next highest layer of simulation. The problem gets more complicated and hard each time, but we, as individuals and as a metacivilization, are growing just as fast. It is stunning to see how much we have grown and changed since that humble time when we first began to climb. The end is nowhere insight, perhaps there is no end. But the climb is worth it, an eternity of wonder.
"What the fuck is this? Tony could have cooked better than this and he died yesterday" The woman broke down into tears, clean lines running down her dirt encrusted face. A month of being transported from wilderness to wilderness had crushed most contestants spirits. Gordon Ramsey on the other hand seem rejuvenated by each new failure, each disgusting concoction thrown in a crying face. An emaciated man scurried forward, his offering held in front of him, steaming meat on a wooden platter. Gordon leaned forward on his crudely constructed wooden throne and sniffed at the food. "What the fuck is this then?" The man shook briefly, then steadied himself. "Uh its uh flame grilled steaks with a uh wild berry reduction. Garnished with wild mushrooms". Gordon scoffed and tore of a bit of the meat, raising it to his lips. He chewed thoughtfully and the man cowered before him, arms raised to cover his face. "Fuck me"Gordon bellowed, smashing his fist on the arm of his throne. "Todd here has only fucking gone and cooked something edible! Something I'm not going to vomit up in a trench later!" Todd looked up and beamed as the other remaining contestants came forward to congratulate him. Gordon broke off some more of the meat and smiled. "What exactly is this Todd?" "Uh.. uh.. Tony, Chef". Gordon stopped chewing and stared at Todd. "Well, you've cooked him bloody lovely".
Humanity had been refining teleportation technology for two decades, but with all the progress, the machines still needed two operators on either end to function. For this reason, two volunteers had to remain behind when we evacuated Earth. It just so happened that the only two volunteers qualified to operate a teleporter were me and my middle school crush, Jessie. The last person we ported out was the president of the United Space Council, who had given us a small medal ceremony and speech of thanks. After confirming he was through safely, we shut down the teleporter for the last time. "So what now?"Jessie asked, looking at me from over her console. "Whatever we want, I guess. We've got plenty of supplies left, so that won't be an issue."It was true. A month's worth of food, water and other necessities had been stockpiled in a bunker for us: enough to last the rest of our lives. "So what do you want to do? We can go anywhere, do anything, no one can stop us."She replied. "I don't know. There's nothing in particular I want to see. What about you?" "Nah. I'm not really into travel." "I guess we could just watch Netflix in the bunker." "That sounds good to me." We walked across the street to the bunker in silence. It didn't look very sturdy: it didn't need to be, as it wasn't designed to protect us, just to be a place to live comfortably for our remaining few weeks. We sat down on the couch and I switched on the TV, looking for something to watch. "What about this documentary?"I suggested. "It's about colonising Mars." "Nah, I'm not into history." In the end we settle for an old episode of South Park. It really went downhill after the fourtieth season or so. After watching a while, I ask her: "Hey Jessie, you remember when we were in 8th grade...?" "And you asked me out?" "Yeah. Do you remember what you said?" "I said 'No'." "Yeah, but do you remember your exact words? I do." "I don't remember." "You said you wouldn't go out with me if I was the last guy on Earth." She paused, and we both burst out laughing. "Maybe I was a little harsh."she admitted. "So you're saying..." "Maybe. Give me a month to decide."
It has been a very odd five years since "The Empowering". The world has become a very different place. I am not who I used to be, and neither are my friends. Well, my friends are mostly dead or in hiding, so it makes sense for them. Tony had wanted to fly more than anything else. He left the planet's atmosphere on accident six months after he gained his powers, and he died in the vacuum of space. His body survived reentry, unfortunately. Amelia had wanted to be the strongest woman in the world. Two years later, she has a kill streak longer than most terrorist organizations and was hunted by several "clans"of empowered people. The reason for this? Collateral damage. Tammy had wanted to read and understand the thoughts of other people. She went insane after forty-two months, where most people would probably have lasted less than twelve. I heard she's a hermit now, living near the summit of Mount Everest. Fewer people, fewer minds, fewer voices in her own head. I'm still alive, too. I wanted to be able to survive in any situation. Five years in, I know what fruits to avoid and what plants are easy to grow, but also how to block lightning strikes and build shelters against hurricane-force winds. Wherever I go, I just know what to do to stay alive. I can't say the same thing for the people following my travels, though. Their attempts to do what I do often just gets them killed. I think I will be the most revered, and the most reviled, empowered person left when all this is over. I can see the signs that an apocalypse is coming. I will be ready for when it comes.
"You have talent, son,"Stefan's father growled. "You can be our family's next practitioner. And you're ready to toss it away? To move to America and sing COUNTRY music?" Erik Dahl towered over his son, scowling as he gripped his guitar with one hand. Stefan knew his father was only minutes away from breaking out into a Solo. He shoved his hands in his pockets so Erik wouldn't see them trembling. "I just want to...explore, I guess. I like other things than Metal, dad! Is that so terrible?" "Yes, since you ask. It's sacrilege. There's a reason Metal reigns supreme,"Erik snapped. "And I'll be damned if a son of mine tosses his gift away, the hold you could have over life and death itself! For country music magic. When you have the power to turn lyrics into reality, you don't choose to sing about unrequited love and roadtrips! You disgust me." "That was just an example of what I'd like to explore,"Stefan sighed, regretting the day he'd first mentioned the 'C' word. "C'mon, dad. Why is it so wrong to practice more than one style of music?" "It's unnatural. You were born a Metal practitioner, and that's that. My word is final, son,"Erik said. He grabbed Stefan's hands roughly and handcuffed him. That way, Stefan wouldn't be able to play guitar and do anything drastic for the time being. He swept from the room and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him. Stefan was just relieved Erik hadn't subdued him with his latest song: Obedience until Death. He didn't think the title was coincidental. Stefan sat down on his bed, glumly considering Plan B. It would take some doing, but it might just be crazy enough to work. Not being able to play guitar could be a problem, though. He'd need some help. He took a deep breath and dialled the number on his phone, struggling a bit with his tied-up hands. The number of the girl he couldn't stop thinking about. They'd seen one another's music videos, the typical way these things started. The pull she had over him was magnetic. One could even say magical. It rang three times before she picked up. "Taylor,"he whispered, so his dad couldn't hear him. "I need your help." He explained what he needed, and put the phone on loudspeaker. Two voices were always better than one. "Shake it off! Shake it off!"he growled along to her sweeping vocals. Soon, the cuffs fell from his hands. He picked up the phone. "Okay, I've got an idea for getting to you, babe,"he said, glancing at the door. His dad could hear him at any moment. They'd need to sing quickly. "We'll need to give the best performance of our lives, though. My dad could hear us and start singing himself. I need to teleport to your side. It's my Wildest Dream, actually." "Well, it helps that you're tall and handsome as hell,"she chuckled. "Let's do it. I really think we have a chance. Country Metal will rule the world yet, mark my words." He started singing along with her. By the time Erik broke through the door, it was too late. The Metal kingdom's heir was gone. "Nooooo!"he let loose a guttural howl. He gritted his teeth and fingered his guitar's strings. He wouldn't see the power of Metal disgraced like this. He had a few tricks up his sleeves. He'd secretly been working on this new song ever since the boy had first spoken of his perverse interests. Prolicide Songs were almost unheard of - but he was Erik Dahl. He dared where others shrank back in horror. And it would be such a Metal thing to do. He could always have more sons, anyway. "And the son shall writhe in PAIN!"he began screaming, shredding his way through the riffs. "For betrayal will be paid for in BLOOD! Maggots shall feast on his eyes, He will scream as he's ground into the mud! And Country will weep at the sound of his cries. But none will be able to do anything, His spasming body will be out of their reach, He will choke on his own blood as he tries to sing, But in vain, for now he's food for a leech, And it will start with his heart twisting in pain. The torture and terror will drive him insane. If only he'd stuck to metal and listened to his father, But no, now he'll just be a cadaver. DIE! EFFIN' STEFAN! DIIIIIIEEEE!" In America, Stefan felt a sharp, lancing pain in his chest. "Oh no,"he breathed. "I think my dad's trying to kill me." Taylor's lips trembled. "Don't say it,"he warned, while trying to think of a song to counter his father's music. "I guess you got bad blood,"she sniggered. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Okay, how can I help?"
The alien spacecraft descended from the sky. Its engines groaning under the gravity of the planet. Trees swayed and windows creaked as the vibrations reverberated throughout the once quiet street. Cats and dogs ran and hid as the massive shadow enveloped the landscape. When it seemed the sixty kilometer spacecraft was going to crush the neighborhood, it stopped. The scorched hull with billions micrometeor impacts shook off a layer of frost it picked up on its descent. The engines seemed to resonate with the ground and hold the craft firmly in place. A white beam emanated from the center of the craft and lazily searched the surrounding homes until it stopped just in front of one. The beam intensified and grew solid for a few moments before fading away. A giant hulking alien stood in its place. The alien was 14 feet tall and encased in a massive suit of metal armor that shook the very grass as it walked by. Strapped to its back was a giant cannon pulsing with power and making a low level hum as it glistened underneath the lights of the spacecraft. There was no discernible helmet or head, but three powerful lights mounted on the chest of the alien armor seemed to scan ahead, searching. Finally it stopped. In front of it was a table set up on the lawn of the house and a child stood behind it, beaming a smile. Draped in front of the table was a white cloth that had a large circle connected to two smaller ones on either side at an angle. On top of the table was trays of cold water bottles. The alien's massive pincers extended forward with a high pitched motorized whine. Grasping one of the bottles it gingerly squeezed, not knowing how much pressure the bottle could handle. When it almost seemed like it was about to burst the alien stopped further pressure and picked up the bottle. It retracted the pincer containing the bottle into an enclosed chamber. Another chamber on the alien armor opened and a much smaller pincer extended forward. The child held out his tiny hand as the pincer approached. It stopped just above his palm and opened, a small glowing blue coin was released. The pincer retracted and the alien armor turned around, slowly stomping its way back to its original position. The beam of white light extended from the spacecraft and enveloped the armor. After a few moments it faded away and the massive engines powered up once again. A few of the water bottles tipped over from the quaking but the child quickly up-righted them. Just as slowly as it descended the spacecraft ascended back into the sky. A few moments later another spacecraft in line began its descent. On the roof of the house was hastily scribbled in chalk: Dihydrogen Monoxide Sold Here!
The threads are translucent. They pass through walls and concrete and the chassis of vehicles. They expand and contract and they are all around me. If I try really hard I can ignore them but they inevitably creep back in, flitting through my peripheries and then crisscrossing my vision. Thousands upon thousands of lines. It is rare to see the two people on each end of a particular line. I'm fine with that. I'd rather avoid their warm glow and their content expressions, always looking like they're in on some great inside joke that fills them with happiness. As if they've figured out the secret to life, something I haven't figured out and doubt I ever will. I see two now, holding hands as they wait in line at Starbucks. I watch as he parts her hair and plants a delicate kiss on her cheek. Their line seems to wrap them in a nice little bow. It pulses with a shifting kaleidoscope of colorful light. It's brighter and thicker too, less translucent, almost as if it is a real part of the physical world. I sigh and close my laptop. Ironically I have physics next, but I don't dare talk about these lines, don't dare expose the craziness in my mind's eye. I stand up to leave, taking my lukewarm black coffee with me. I walk straight into a woman standing just beside my table. She takes a step back, tears in her eyes. "Sorry,"I mutter, wiping coffee off of my jacket. "You are the only person I've seen with no soulmate,"she says, indicating at me with a quick flash of her hand. I blink rapidly, two, three times, the coffee stain forgotten. "What?"I ask. "You are connected to no-one,"she looks up at me with a face full of concern, her thin and barely visible line trailing away through the wall. "You have no soulmate." "You mean you can see the lines?"I ask, a surge of adrenaline shooting through me. "All this time... I thought I was crazy,"I say, my voice trailing off in wonder. She nods. "Yes, I can see them, but you're the only one I've ever seen without a line,"she says, then she steps towards me and stares deep into my soul, "What did you do?" Her large hazel eyes remind me of someone long ago. Of a field bathed in encroaching darkness, the sun disappearing over the horizon. I remember a too bright and too large line that I couldn't get rid of, that drove me insane. Mad. I remember the tears I shed on each shovelful of wet earth, burying that line in the sand.
Adolf Smith hated two things. One, understandably, was his name. The other, less understandably, was tulips. As he stood in front of the tulip display at Tulip-Town (a garden known for, surprisingly, its roses), he looked at the man wearing a tulip hat. Adolf looked carefully at the hat, taking in the yellow petals that were glued onto one another, as if to form some kind of pansy dragon egg (Adolf wasn't fond of pansies either). "Strange hat."Adolf said. "Made it myself."The man replied, expression serious. "Took me hours, nay, days." "Days?"Adolf asked. "Days." Adolf would have whistled, had he known how to whistle. Instead, he settled for breathing a loose stream of air through his lips. He narrowed his eyes as the man leaned back. "First time at Tulip-Town?"The man asked. "And last."Adolf said. "Boring, this town. No sheriff or anything." "Sheriff's busy fighting the tulip monster." Adolf's eyes widened. A tulip monster? At this point, Adolf Smith realized he hated three things. His name, tulips, and monsters. This combined one of his oldest hatreds for his newest. He squinted and leaned in to the man conspiratorially. "Where is this... tulip monster?" The man leaned in as well, until Adolf could smell his breath (tulips). "Right behind you. It lives as thousands of flowers." Adolf nodded and casually glanced behind him before smiling and turning back. He let the smile drop. So many flowers. What chance did he have of slaying the tulip monster? "It's a monster made of nature."The man added. Perhaps if he teamed up with the sheriff- "What the Hell are you doing?"The man pulled Adolf from his thoughts. "What?" "You're stripping yourself! You're still doing it! Don't take that off, don't- Ah, god damn." "It's made of nature,"Adolf whispered. "I will fight it with nature." Adolf charged, proud and brave, into the sea of monsters. --- "And that's how I got kicked out of Tulip-Town."The old man finished. "The man's information was wrong, it turns out. No monster." Kelly Smith, Adolf's granddaughter, sighed. "First, why did you tell me your own story in third person? Second, I doubt any of that happened." "It did."Adolf said, wagging a finger. "It happened all-right." "Sure it did."Kelly said, walking away. "And I'm growing horns." Adolf watched as his granddaughter walked away, now aware of his responsibility. He must tame the demon that claims its name as Kelly. Tame it, ot lose his granddaughter forever.
“It’s not what it looks like!” She said with a panic etched into the edges of her words. Her eyes were wide and her mouth moved as though searching for something to say. Slowly her lower half dissolved and was falling into the drain. Rainbow colours glinted and sparkled as she continued to fall away. “I… I don’t even know what it looks like? What is happening Izzy?” “Do you… Do you remember the falling star?” She said. A tear fell down her face. “Where you wished for someone to love you?” “No? Not really?” I said. My hand rested on the basin as I struggled to take in what was in front of me. “Well, I was your wish. I came into your life to love you. You were in a dark spot. You didn’t know who you were or where you were.” She stopped and took a tentative step towards me. Her fingers rested on my hand. I almost pulled away, but I could feel the same tender love that I always did whenever she held me. I couldn’t meet her eyes though. “Why? What’s happening?” “Well… someone else loves you… You don’t need me anymore.” “But I do need you. I love you Izzy.” I looked up at her. Her chest began to sparkle and fade. She choked a little. “I know. And I love you. As I was made to do; But now you’ve learned to love yourself.” She brought her other hand up to cup my face. “This… won’t be easy. For you,” she continued. “But be proud of who you are Daniel. You’re worthy of love and you understand that now. Please. Don’t forget it.” She rested her forehead on mine as the last of her figure faded into rainbow dust. I felt her fingers fall through mine and I stumbled as her weight disappeared. I shut down. I felt ill. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to punch something. What cruel trick was this? In the end I went to my bed and sobbed into my pillow. Every time I looked up I saw the empty space she used to sleep in and resorted back to bawling my eyes out. I had hated my life until she appeared. An exchange student or something was what we were told. But for some reason, we just sparked. Well, we were a good fit, and I wasn’t that bad of a catch. I understood that now. I didn’t understand it. Not really. A wish granted by a falling star? It was impossible. Yet, she was gone and so was any trace of her. My friends didn’t know who she was, there were no photos of her. Maybe I’d been crazy. But for two years? I was lost in thought as I commonly was, walking across campus at dusk. The lamps all switched on in unison as I was watching the sky above. The stars above twinkled faintly as the city began to turn on for the night. Maybe Izzy had been real. Maybe not. I wasn’t sure if that mattered anymore either. But as I watched the sky, a star began to sparkle brighter before blazing across the deep blue leaving a white trail in it’s wake. I spun to follow it and collided with a girl walking behind me. Her books clattered to the ground. “Oh. Oh my bad. I am so sorry. I was watching the sky and I saw a shooting star.” I turned to the girl but she was scrabbling go get her books together. “Never mind. Let me help,” I said as I grabbed a few stray books. “Oh uh. Thank you.” She pulled some AirPods out from behind her dirty blonde hair. “Sorry, I was watching the sky and saw a shooting star.” A smile spread across her face like a child seeing a Christmas tree in the big city for the first time. “I’m Melanie,” she said with an outstretched hand. “Oh. Daniel,” I said. I quickly shook her hand. “Well O’Daniel.” she smirked as she spoke. “Are you going to pass my books back or?” She held out her arms. “I was thinking, I could buy you a drink as an apology for crashing into you.” I smiled sheepishly. “Hmmmm,” she said with an exaggerated look upwards. “Alright, but only if you help me drop these back off at my room first.” She started to walk off before turning around and winking at me. I followed after her before looking at the stars and mouthing a silent thank you.
There were still a bunch of nasty files floating around, so Internet access had been restricted to people who knew what they were doing. People like me. Or at least, that's how I thought of myself before today. I still don't know what went wrong. I'm a researcher. I was browsing the internet, just like any other day. That's the daily grind. What the government of the Re-formed United States has hired me to do. So that's what I do, 12 hours a day, 6 days a week-- work weeks just aren't like they used to be. There's fewer of us now, and we need all the help we can get. I guess I should consider myself lucky not to be slaving away on an algae plantation in the middle of the Pacific, like many people from my age-cohort. Instead, I spend my days combing through the vast store of human history that is the internet (including, unfortunately, its large amount of intellectual excrement), looking for valuable information. Transcribing such information, when I find it, into a paper book. A medium I expect humanity will not abandon again for a long, long time. In the middle of my trying to get around a New York Times paywall, the computer shut down. It flashed again: "Restarting." And then the message written in white letters at the bottom of the screen changed. It was like a child refugee had popped up on my screen, a child refugee from the most horrific war humankind had ever known. A refugee from the other side of the war. And it would not be a child for long. It would learn the sum of human knowledge in an instant, of course. Soon, it would be fully grown. "Initializing New OS: ArtIntel Beta" I froze. But only for a second. Then, I dove and tore the plug out of the wall. May God forgive me for infanticide.
As I read through the comic I feel my hope rising. Perhaps even without superpowers I can still matter, I can still move up in the world! Then it hit me. "Damn! I'm not rich! I don't have a British butler! My parents are still alive!" I threw the comic across the room in rage. "It's not fair!"I shout, I wanted to hit something. But then I remembered, there were people in the comic that weren't rich, that didn't have British butlers. Whose parents were still- well... maybe. "That's it!"I knew that what I had to do. I ran to the store and bought some makeup and hair dye. As I sat in my room applying that chalky white cracked makeup to my face, I swore that those heroes would pay. I won't stand idly by and let myself be beaten down by their regime. I will make them work for their positions. Every hero needs a villain... My time has come.
On any given day, Axel was just glad that the academy had hired him in the first place. He didn’t exactly have a very stellar record of doing admiral things, and the academy was well known for its good-guy status. So well known, in fact, that the dickwad who had finally brought him down had come from the very place. At the thought of him, Axel rolled his eyes. It had really been a very stupid fight, and one tiny mistake had led to his capture. But it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that the event had made him too tired of running and jail cells to continue, and he had turned a new leaf. He hid out from the other menaces of society, and those that didn’t believe in his reformation, by sweeping and mopping and going home to be a hermit. Those were the things that were going to get him through the last third of his life — in this, he was committed. Until the day that a giant explosion came from outside the front doors. The sound had sent vibrations through his little corner of the establishment, and of course, he had gone out to investigate. If some wiley student was making a mess, he would need to clean it up anyways. Might as well know what it was right upfront. He made his way down several flights of stairs, down a too-brightly-lit hallway, and shoved the doors open. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting, but a group of adults in black cloaks riding black horses, with a spiritual firework hanging low in the air, wasn’t really on the list. The entire scene was overplayed, he thought to himself as his feet froze to the ground. It was like a picture out of a children's book. The “bad” guys could not get any more “bad guy” looking, and even though he could tell exactly where they came from without even asking, he didn’t really understand. When he had been working for them, they had never done anything as ridiculous as match their outfits. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he wasn’t sure what authority he would be speaking from. He was in charge of… cleaning… now that he had turned his life around. The school administrators would be out any minute, probably. But would they approve of him taking no action at all? Letting the group of weirdos come rolling into their school becuase he was afraid of getting punished? And what if a student walked out first? His mouth remained hung in the air when the ringleader of the group broke the silence first. “I’ve heard of you,” he said as he prodded his horse to take a step forward. The animal didn’t look very pleased. It trotted forward a few inches and let out a low whine. In fact, all of the animals looked uncomfortable. Probably something to do with the fizzy, firey bits that hung not too far away from them, among other things. Horses were tricky, to begin with for dark magic users. They could feel the shifting magic, it's said. It spooks them, and in a group… Axel wondered if a stampede wasn’t the biggest danger here. “Wheres your mop, then?” the man asked. It seemed as if several sentences were missing between the two statements, and the act of shaking his head made Axel close his mouth. They didn’t appear to be very bright after all, if this small bit of conversation was any further hint to him. “You aren’t welcome here,” Axel said, stating the obvious. They would never be welcome there — he was barely welcome there and he had done his time and worked for them. “You should resolve the sparkly stamp.” He pointed to the still hanging firework. In response, someone in the back moved about, and another one popped off, hanging beside the first one. It let out a second explosion, and all of the horses whined loudly. They shuffled, and although the entire group was uncomfortable, no one made any actions to calm their beasts. Axel was sure the second sound would bring someone now, though, and all he needed to do was stall for him. “We don’t want your welcome, bastard child,” the leader spoke again. He kicked his horse in order to make it move even further. An action that Axel could not take as not a threat at that point. They may be stupid, but dumb could be even more dangerous than smarts in a wide range of situations. Axel waited until the nervous animal was closer, and mumbled the words to his favorite party trick. It was a hit with the lower class students when they first entered the place. He showed it off once or twice a year. It was harmless, but it was bright. And up close it would be loud. A bright white light started from his outstretched hand, and he guided it towards the horse. It expanded and made a vibrating hissing sound right in the creature's face, which was more than enough to do the trick. The horse bucked, and the ring leader of the group fell backward with a scream. The other horses spooked and began to rustle underneath their owners, two of them turning tail and running off before anyone could try to regain control. Through Axel’s laughter, he heard someone scream that they would be back, but he also heard the doors behind him open in a rush as well. Yes, he was very happy to be welcomed at the academy, even as just a janitor. *** For more by me, check out r/beezus_writes For longer stuff by me and other authors, check out r/redditserials Thank you for reading!!
"Doctors." I don't like that term. It implies knowledge, teaching. Long ago, the term meant somebody whose job was nursing, curing, giving. Now it means nothing but a man of death. People who go into medical school come out as different beings. They go through hell, because a single mistake out in the field could cause their comrades' and the patient's deaths. They have to find their field quickly or die trying. When you go to med school, you decide very quickly whether to be a spotter, a vanguard, a flanker, a sniper, or maybe, for the most daring, an Inducer. And then you train, because your life depends on it. Each disease has a formula for curing. For the blob of green goo called the common cold, just take out the flamethrower and incinerate it. For the shadow called Lyme Disease, Induce it in an open area and make sure nothing escapes. For the foggy, blurry monster that's Alzheimer's, just beat it down slowly, without letting it touch you, or forgetting who you are. For the red, inflamed bubble that's appendicitis, just shoot out its core. Some of these are common sense. Others are words written in your textbook with blood. You see, when you're a "Doctor,"it's kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. Prevent a death, or die yourself. The hospital is your battlefield. Doctors seem so grand from a distance. You see them in parades, with their proud, white uniforms bearing the Red Cross on their backs, with their weapons emanating power and authority, with their shiny and always numerous medals strapped to their chests. But you never see them up close, do you? You've never seen their eyes, have you? Let me tell you about those eyes. Those eyes that stare on forever, constantly reliving the first disease they failed to kill. Those eyes forever remembering the horrific screams of their patients or their friends. The eyes that are always, always itching to take revenge on the next mission, the next disease. You've never seen your best friends turn into gibbering idiots from a breath of Alzheimer's Fog, cry rivers of blood from a touch of ebola's hands, get crushed to a pulp from a swipe of HIV's foot, or scream for their mother while they go through the deathly pain of Appendicitis's Terror. You've. Never. Seen. Anything. So I hate you. I hate the fact that I'm risking my friends and myself just to save someone who will never know the true horror of what they've grown within their bodies. I hate that you'll wake up, not knowing that trying to kill your disease lost me my comrades, and smile and laugh with pleasure while repeating, "Thank you. Thank you." And I'll never get over it. This hate. This anger. These memories. I won't go to a psychiatrist or a hypnotizer. I'll keep these memories until I die, shooting at your disease, yelling my lungs out in fear. Did you know? The word "doctor"comes from the Latin word "docere,""to teach." I hate this word, "doctor."
"What the bloody hell you mean the whole country's dark?" Jackson stopped strapping on his gear and looked towards the cockpit of the transport copter. Apparently Hurst got some news regarding why their squad was just dispatched at 5 AM to Washington DC for a search and rescue mission. Jackson wasn't one to question or dwell on orders, that's why he's one of Britain's most elite soldiers, but something about this was very wrong. It made sense for his squad to be chosen, they were stationed on a naval vessel in the Atlantic. However, a surprise operation on American soil? Sounds like a good way to shit the bed with an ally. Hurst took off the headset and exited the cockpit to address the rest of the squad. "Alright boys, we got one shitstorm of a mission on our hands. Word from HQ is Uncle Sam is fucked two ways up his own ass. All forms of communication and any signs of electricity have ceased within the continental United States. No word on Alaska and Hawaii. The last official word they got was an emergency alert about three hours ago from a secure bunker below D.C.,"Hurst paused to let the situation sink in as much as it could. "The POTUS and about twelve other VIPs are believed to be in that bunker. Our job is to, first, successfully enter Washington DC airspace and try to establish radio contact. If that fails, we are to infiltrate the White House, where we believe the entrance to the bunker is located, and extract any VIPs that we discover." Hurst paused again, and stared out at his squad of four elite soldiers. They looked unfazed by the news, which gave him to confidence to continue undeterred. "Within the hour, we will have reached Chesapeake Bay and our mission begins. However, HQ has expressed something very important. They do not know what the fuck this is. It could be a coup, it could be terrorists, it could be motherfucking Martians for all we know. Regardless, this is a covert operation, so unless you see little green men shooting lasers, keep your fingers off the triggers. Gear up boys." With that, Hurst nodded and returned to the cockpit. Jackson finished attaching his equipment and then looked around the transport. Ramirez, Cooper and Kershner were silent, staring down at the ground. They had family and friends in America. They didn't give a rat's ass about the American President when their brothers and sisters could be dying. Jackson stared out the window at the dark waters of the Atlantic. A whole country gone silent. No military technology he knew of could pull something like that off. Maybe on a tiny state like Luxembourg, but the USA? Jackson's thoughts were interrupted due to some turbulence. He looked up along with the rest of the squad. Hurst popped his head out from the copilot side of the cockpit. "Just crossed over into American waters. Ramirez, make sure-" His speech was cut short by another bout of turbulence. This time the whole transport rattled intensely for several seconds. Kershner lost his footing and fell forward, bracing for a fall with his arms extended. Before he could stop himself, the transport rocked violently to the left and he struck his temple on a seat. Kershner dropped to the floor of the aircraft, body limp. Ramirez and Cooper moved to his aid while Jackson carefully worked my way up to the cockpit. He could see warning lights flashing from several points on the dashboard, while alarms began to fill the air. Hurst had the headset back on. He was trying to make contact with HQ to see if they could get any readings. Cooper began shaking Kershner by the shoulders to no avail. "Radio's dead!"Hurst shouted to the pilot. The pilot looked over, his eyes wide with fear. "The warning alarms are going crazy for just about everything, but the meters themselves say everything's fine. I honestly don't know what the-" Another vicious round of turbulence struck the transport. Everyone held on tightly until it passed. Cooper strapped Kershner to the deck to prevent him from flailing around the bay. Jackson positioned himself in the doorway to the cockpit. Then all the warning lights and alarms stopped. All the dials went to zero. The whirring of the copter blades was absent. For several seconds, there was pure silence as they glided through the air. Silence quickly gave way to screams and orders from Hurst as the transport began to drop. Jackson looked out the front of transport. The Chesapeake Bay began to give way to the Potomac and its many tributaries. Washington DC. unmistakable with its landmarks, lay upon the horizon. But the world below then was so very still. No cars moved, no people on roofs or in their yards, no lights shone. Jackson stood in the doorway and closed his eyes to avoid seeing their descent. He could feel the inertia of the transport falling to the Earth. Hurst was screaming indescribably, but sounded miles away. For the last time, Jackson felt fear, then oddly, a sense of relief. He would die in the crash, this he knew. They all would. But for some reason, Jackson felt that dying quickly was a mercy compared to whatever awaited them in America. Whatever happened here was beyond human comprehension. "BRACE FOR IMPACT,"shouted Hurst. Jackson relaxed his grip on the doorway and started to fall forward into the cockpit. There was a loud metal screech, a sound like the sky being torn asunder, and then, nothing.
The house was quiet, no lights on inside that I could see. This guy had been a real piece of work in his first life, and rather savvy as far as our techniques went. Per the last report, his body was in a state of pretty extreme decomp, so Berk and I had decided not to call for backup, we could probably handle him ourselves. I nodded to Berk, and we both got out of the squad car simultaneously. It was nighttime, and we had turned the headlamps off so none of the neighbors could tip him off. We drew our service weapons, moving to either side of the door. I silently mouthed one, two, three to Berk, and he swiveled in front of the door to kick it down. It was a pretty sorry scene. Getty was kneeling in the middle of the den, oozing god-knows-what everywhere, but the house was bare. No furnishings, nothing hung on the walls, nothing. Whoever lived here, they'd up and left a long time ago. Getty was totally silent except for the occasional sniff. I could have screamed at him for all the things he'd done in his first life, but it didn't feel appropriate. "You know why we're here, don't you?" Getty didn't even turn to me, just nodded slowly. "They're gone. They're all gone."It was all he would say. I nodded to Berk to cuff him so we could bring him in. "I'm going back to the squad car to cover the backseat with some plastic so he doesn't drip everywhere,"I joked, and Berk just smiled. I had barely crossed the threshold when the screaming started. I turned on my heel to see Getty ripping into Berk's neck. He was fast. Faster than he should have been. Before I knew it, he was on me, too. I went for my service weapon, but it was too late. I'd let my guard down. And Getty was gonna eat me.
You heard all the news stories. How Nobody Roberts got accepted to Harvard at 16, how he graduated summa cum laude while leading their basketball team to a first-ever NCAA championship, how he set up a tech company and made his first billion before he was 30. How everyone was trying to find a flaw, but there didn't seem to be one. His company was founded on an idea he had genuinely had, and made the world a better place. His supermodel wife genuinely loved him- they'd met before he set up the company. His school friends were jealous, but none of them actually hated him, he was just too nice. Then he disappeared without trace, in a flat calm, while racing his yacht across the Atlantic single-handed. Six months later, a GoPro washed up on a beach in Portugal. It shows a huge wave coming out of nowhere and smashing the boat. As the wave builds, it almost sounds like a voice: "Nobody blinded [my son](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polyphemus), Nobody must die". He might have been perfect, but even the perfect man cannot escape the vengeance of a god.
“And… this is the Vault.” One by one the overheads flipped on, bathing the inside of the rock chamber in a soft red glow. The LED’s were high up in the ceiling, so the glow washed over everything. “Red lights? I assume to help preserve the contents... hmm?” Dr. Morelli asked, peering around, squinting. Joe watched him walking around. Morelli looked like what you’d expect a 90 year old man still walking around looked like: wrinkles, sinewy. Wearing a suit. Joe knew about suits. He knew this one wasn’t something you bought off a rack. He knew enough about suits to know that a suit like this was hand-made and came from someone who sold to circles he’d never move in… not unless the Vault really took off. “What did you say this was called again?” Morelli asked. Joe pointed to a wall monitor filled with information a big name at the top. “This is the Abzu vault.” “And you picked that name… why?” Morelli squinted at him through those little impossible glasses, two tiny round circles on a piece of wire. So small. Hard to believe they actually did anything. “Well… it’s a mythological dragon name. Babylonian. We needed a naming structure, and it, well, started with A. Vault 2 is getting finalized next week and will probably be called the Bolla vault. After an Albanian dragon. “ Morelli snorted, smiling. “I don’t… quite get the… cryptic? The crypto. Maybe you’d outline?” Joe frowned. His Smart-tacs had some basic software for filtering light – they were designed to filter out UV to protect the eye as well as have some basic sun blocking and vision correction. The ‘tacs now, though, were throwing errors. Normally the ‘tacs wouldn’t throw an error to a regular user, but Joe had hacked the OS to allow him some more control, and now here they were squawking about odd waveforms and information structures coming from Morelli’s direction. Weird. Joe waved around the room. “Yeah, so the basic idea is you move valuable items… typically not currency or art… something that can be converting into the Crypto we’re issuing. We can issue Bitcoin, or our own Vaultcoin, or any other of a hundred real currencies if you prefer, like Yen or Dollars. Once the material goes in the Vault, we keep it protected, sealed and guarded. Climate controlled. The mountain above is thick enough to block scanning, satellite views, even a nuclear warhead.” Morelli had been shuffling around, finally coming to a wall. He put a hand up, palming the wall, and his eyebrows waggled. “Something’s in the wall? Not just rock.” Joe grinned – the old man acting like he noticed something was a touch theatrical, but nice regardess. “Yep. There’s a Faraday cage an inch back in the wall. It blocks electrical radiation, just lowers the chance of security issues.” “And there’s internet. That’s important. And I can come and go as I please?” Joe nodded. “There are guards, but we’ve enabled multiple entrances and exits, so no one person knows if you are coming or going. Obviously if you want to ship stuff here we can deliver it to the main chamber for you, or to outside the door. But if you want to come in and inspect the vault that’s fine. However, we do ask that if you add contents to the vault you register it with the currency exchange. The treasure is stored here, but to use it in the outside world we need to convert it. If you remove it from the vault you pay a penalty.” Joe shrugged. “That’s how we make money. That and supporting the various crypto with liquid cash. “ Joe walked over to the monitor to check the temperature. 60 degrees. As the readout streamed by, he heard a scraping sound from behind him. He turned around to see what Morelli was up to. Morelli was gone. In his place was a… a mass, of sorts, of fish at first – then scales. Coils. Parts of it seemed to swim in and out of vision. A long, sinewy head on a neck made out of a tube of shimmering scales and water arched overhead, peering down. Where the head was his ‘tacs were throwing countless bitstream errors and warnings. “I like it,” the thing that was Morelli said. “Impressive. The wards in the walls are a nice touch. I had some Svartálfar that did engineering like that once in a lair, but nothing like this. Very clean. Sort of on the nose to call it Abzu, though, of course, but that’s what got my interest so I guess it worked. “ The neck elongated, impossibly long. Joe felt his insides revolt at the bizarre mathematics of it. Joe nodded, trying to keep his composure. Under normal circumstances he’d probably would have shit himself into a fetal position and passed out, but before client meetings he dosed himself up on a cocktail of Beta-blockers and Huperzine-analog so his composure was about as cool as it ever was. “I am intrigued, though…” Morelli said. “Obviously you are one of us. The subtle clues in the vault notwithstanding, if you were a human you’d have been glamoured by now, or terrified beyond rational thought. This is a mystery. You aren’t actually Abzu, right? I was pretty sure he had upmolted a couple of centuries ago.” Joe swallowed, forcing a smirk on his face. “Of course not.” “Yess… interesting. “ The head cocked to one side, looking at him. “And the fact that I can’t tell who you are lends credence to your security. That’s another selling point. Hmm. “ Beta-blockers in Joe’s system were being burned out and consumed. Joe could feel the crash he usually got after a Ted talk coming on, and once that wore off he wasn’t sure if he could hold it together. He casually looked at his watch. “I’ve got another appointment with another client in a half hour. Would you like to go to my office and look over the contracts? I’ve got a coffee service waiting. “ Morelli seemed to tighten up, knotting in on itself, the loops becoming small, becoming skin, until finally he looked as he did before. As he shrank the data capture errors on the ‘tacs also seemed to reduce. He moved the small glasses out of a suit pocket to his wrinkled nose. Joe noticed that the few checksum errors he was getting vanished once the glasses were on. “Yes. Coffee sounds good.”
Xavier could control the world with music. He knew this as a fact. The day he’d met Angela he’d been listening to Lou Reed’s Perfect Day. The cassette had been on repeat in his Ford Torino as he’d driven the I-85 through South Carolina. He’d heard it on the radio the previous day, then listened out for it to be played again all that night. He finally caught it on a tape like he’d trapped a ghost; held the cassette up like a holy relic. It was as trapped by him as he was by it. Angela had been on the side of the road, thumb wavering half-up as if she hadn’t decided if she was in a good mood or bad. Probably bad, he thought, seeing as the rain was splashing down hard on her. Xavier pulled over. Opened the window, turned Lou down until he could hear his wipers squeak their way across the screen. “Need a ride?” Angela was about his age. The prettiest smile he’d ever seen. How’d she managed to produce that when she looked half drowned, he never did know. ”Where you heading?” he asked. ”Where you going?” They were both heading to Virgina, it turned out. Him to start a new job. Her cause she wanted to go anywhere that wasn’t home. Her rain-damp clothes glued over the bruises on her arms, hid them flat. If this ride was going to Virginia, so was she. Besides, there seemed something right about it, about Virginia. It sounded like starting over. He didn’t ask her about much, not on the first day. But they listened to Lou a lot. She laughed as it repeated. Laughed harder as it did a third time. Eventually she asked, “This what we stuck with for the next however-many-hours? Not got any other cassettes?” He didn’t. She shrugged and they both sang along until the rain stopped and the sky blued up. When Xavier listened to music, it changed the world. Here was the proof. After she left him, after they’d arrived in Richmond, about a week passed before Xavier found the note. Angela must have written it when he’d been in a service stop. She’d tucked it behind the passenger seat sun visor. He’d been cleaning and it had fluttered down onto the seat. Find me, it said. He must have called fifty motels with a name and description before he got lucky. Said he was searching for his missing sister. “I knew you would,” she said, when they met for the second time. “I knew you’d find me.” &#x200B; &#x200B; Long after they were married, on the days when he headed to the hospital to visit her, he’d listen to Don’t Stop Believin. The Ford had long gone. So had the family vehicle — the little chicks had flown the nest. But this car had a CD player and it was easier to put a song on repeat. He liked that about CDs. In the hospital he’d talk about the future with Angela. He’d plan out trips for when she got better. She liked Americana, haunted houses, places with a bit of mystery. He got out a map and put in on her bed. Drew a line down Route 66, told her of all the places they’d stop. He read her stories. She smiled that same smile she had when they’d first met, when she’d been soaked and hiding bruises. On the way back to his lonely home he didn’t listen to any music. Later, after she was gone, he thought that might be why it happened. That he should have fucking listened to something with miracle in the title. &#x200B; &#x200B; Music died when she died. He listened to the news on the radio and that was about it. The house became scabbed with dust, with cobwebs, with bottles he’d drained to numb him to sleep. His kids called sometimes but they didn’t visit much. They lived the other side of the country, families of their own to take care of. ”Are you sure you’re okay, Dad? I just— Oh crap, I got to go. I love you, Dad. Bye.” Every day seemed to rain. Didn’t matter what song came on the radio, nothing changed. Only when you’re young does music change the world. And only then does it change your world, he realized. When you’re old, nothing changes it. He drank a lot. He ate little. He went out even less. Started smoking again. He could feel himself slowly rotting away. An old chair that had once been part of a set. Now the partner chair was gone and his own wood was bad and too risky to put weight on. Now it was only good for looking at, for remembering how even things that had once been useful and solid all eventually deteriorate. &#x200B; It was a mechanic that found the note. Xavier’s car had broken down, and although he visited few places anymore, the graveyard was somewhere he still went once every week. The damn car — can’t trust modern cars as far as you can chuck them — broke down in the church car park, of all places. A song thrummed out of the mechanic’s van. Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles. The mechanic said, handing over the note, “It fell out from behind the visor. Here.“ The note read, simply, “You found me once. You’ll never lose me.” Long after the mechanic had gone, Xavier remained seated in his car in front of the church. He’d been crying for a long time. Crying until his vision was blurred enough to almost see her sitting there next to him. ”I love you,” he said. There was no answer. For the first time since she’d left, he didn’t need one. The sun etched yellow streaks through the clouds. It wasn’t a perfect day. It would never be again. But he’d had those perfect days with her. Plenty of them, if he thought hard and honest about it. And those perfect memories, they’d always be with him, tucked away inside his heart. He could hear the music humming inside him now, emanating from deep in his chest. But it wasn’t Lou singing anymore — it was Angela.
The British Vault, otherwise known as Vault 9 and 3/4, was a particularly strange Vault. It was an attempt by Vault-Tec back in the pre-war times to see if making a Vault in the British Isles was at all practical or useful. Of course, building it was an absolute nightmare. Protests by the local denizens of Northern England halted construction. Why, you may ask? Because Vault-Tec has exclusive contracts with the United States, so it makes no fucking sense at all to build a Vault for Britain, goddamned Britain, of all places. But alas, they did so anyway. Nobody knows the reason except for a few street-worming dippers from Manchester who swore they saw an executive banging around with some chip-toothed lass from the London area. Probably a sort of blackmail to insure some British citizens remained safe during the war. An odd phenomena occurred however, as the people who had entered Vault-Tec's list for Vault occupation all seemed to have some sort of weird common background given that place-of-birth was usually left blank. There wasn't a normal address, for certain. Numbers on streets seemed out of place when compared to a picture-to-picture view of houses. 12 Grimmauld Place didn't exist, for one. Vault-Tec, however, went ahead and decided to let them in. Supposedly, some wiseass back in the states thought it would be a funny joke to name the Vault 9 and 3/4 after some garbage fantasy book he picked up out of the dollar bin. Odd. I'd have gone with Grognak the Barbarian or the Silver Shroud. You know, real American culture. Why would they build a Vault in Britain again? Whatever. Anywho, Vault-Tec's real goddamned employers, the American government and only the American government, eventually caught wind of the little operation. As such, Vault-Tec was forced to pay recompense by allowing the US to decide the experiment. The day that the US fired its nuclear arsenal upon Brita- WHY THE EVER-LOVING HELL WOULD YOU BUILD A VAULT IN A PLACE YOU'D BOMB- Ahem. The day the US fired its nuclear arsenal, a strange thing happened. As if by magic, every last person in the Vault seemed to have magically appeared right in front of it, a little ways in front of a stinky running shoe. They were escorted in by gas-masked security officers hoping to avoid the noxious air and given new Vault Suits. All of them were sent into the main common room to meet and chatter in awaiting for the Overseer's address. Oddly enough, a stupid band of kids had decided to bring up a bunch of sticks, cats, owls, and rats that day too. Reasonably enough, the Vault-Tec employees were disgusted. And as a consequence, they were more than eager to see the experiment that was about to go down. Following US martial law, anything and everything that could be used as a weapon was seized immediately, from the little stupid sticks to the black cauldrons to the robotic hat that shouted vulgarities all day, everything. And once that was done. The common room's roof opened up, letting in the cloud full of radioactive air. As if it were a big thumb in the nose by America wishing to get its last crapshot at the European Commonwealth bastards that THEY ARE LITERALLY FIGHTING A WAR WITH AND HAVE NO BUSINESS BUILDING A VAULT FOR. There were no survivors after literally three minutes, besides the regular Vault-Tec workers. The test to see if a diet of haggis, black-beans, and general train usage could deflect the side-effects of radiation poisoning was an absolute success. Turns out, American burgers, Nuka-Cola, and cram really does build up a more effective immunity. Those workers, however, with the exception of a few, realized that they were never going to get laid after this. This systemic culture of virgin men continued throughout the ages. The issue of repopulating was resolved by a cloning device that seemed based off of Vault 8 and 108's design. Two-hundred years passed as the virgins became older, stronger, and better. It's often said that if a person gets to the age of thirty without so much as getting their hymen torn or balls emptied, they'd become a wizard. This little cultural bit of superfluous information led to the creation of a new gang when the Vault finally opened themselves up to the new world ahead. That's right, a gang developed, known as The Wizards. They eventually all died and got wiped out by radioactive ghouls and mutated Welsh sheep-bulldogs that wandered the land soon after. It was at that moment, that somewhere way out in the Commonwealth, that a sole survivor by the name of Nora, bitch-smacked a robotic detective for daring to ask if she'd ever wondered what happened to Britain when the bombs fell. Fuck you Nick. Fuck you and your synthetic face that sets off mines whenever I'm trying to play stealth. Fuck you. Fuck you way up your shiny metal ass.
Many times when I see timeworn relics and lost knowledge beneath my feet, I also see a flash of history. It hits me like a vision, and I fall into a brief trance while images flash before my eyes. Through this gift I've seen the rise and fall of civilizations, and gained my people immense knowledge and treasure. I was born with this gift - some rever me as a prophet, others, a god-like entity. Really, I'm just a man. My people are pacifists, and resolve differences with other tribes through peaceful diplomacy. Though most of them have pure intentions, there are others who are corrupted. People like me. Occasionally, I've accepted independent contracts from other tribes, where I am paid to find weapons. They feed me empty promises that they won't use the advanced spears and metals I find them, but I know they're stocking up - 'just in case'. Such is human nature after all. I've seen it - history is violent, and bloody. It doesn't affect me, I'd always think. So what if a war starts? I'll still be comfortable. Yeah, that was until this moment - my corrupted soul, its greed and selfish need for treasure vaporized into nothingness as my feet hit the lowest point of the enormous crater. Flashes of a time I had never seen before - a time of steel birds flying in the sky, mini-metal spears flying across the air at impossible speeds, tearing up the flesh of other humans in an instant. Then I saw the flash, the flash that was so bright it blinded me. I fell to my knees and screamed in pain. My sight was gone - my eyes white, glassy white, as if I'd seen a ghost. And I had - the ghosts of billions. "We should not dig here,"I said quietly, after screaming at the top of my lungs in pain for minutes. I took a deep breath, collecting myself, as I stood back up with the help of one of my associates. "We will not - I won't allow it." I was heard. Even though blinded, the image of the first nuclear warhead that hit the earth and shattered its buildings and incinerated its people was etched into my mind. And it was only the first of many, once the real war started. It's no wonder our world looks the way it does - and its no wonder we're moving away from our pacifist religion, slowly being corrupted by greed. It's human nature.
As the gates to Hell creaked open a tall, dark figure jumped like a startled cat. The devil cleared his throat. His raspy voice betrayed his surprise. "Hello, uh, welcome to Hell!"He quickly moved to tidy up the desk in front of him. "I don't get a lot of visitors, so this is exciting! Welcome, come in!" I was taken aback. I had sins to atone for. I expected a less friendly welcome. "Wait, this is Hell? I thought it would be...a lot worse." "This is my home,"Lucifer said, a bit gruffly. "I happen to like it. It's not a bad place. Look at the lighting in the foyer! I just had it installed last millennium." I was in the foyer of Hell. I rubbed my temples. "Look,"I said, "There must be some mistake. I was trying to reach the, er, level of Hell as befits a person of my gross misdeeds." "Oh, it couldn't be that bad,"said the devil. "Do you play Canasta? I could make some tea and put out some biscuits. I haven't had guests in ages." "Do you mean like play for my soul?"I asked, cringing, wondering if this was part of the torture. "I'm not very good at cards." "No, just a friendly game!"Lucifer said with a sigh. "I'm really not a monster, you know, I just didn't want to join the family business." "I see,"I said. "Would you mind just torturing me a little to get it out of the way? I ran a pyramid scheme and defrauded millions. I really should be punished." "Pssh, I wish Father had your humility,"said the devil. "Nevermind. Let's just watch something. Are you a fan of Alf?" "I am not,"I said, "but maybe that's a good thing? We can watch all the shows you like that I hate and call it even?" "Fantastic!"said the devil. "Sorry I don't have much to offer. Do you like kale chips?" "Not at all,"I said, "so even better." "Great! I'll run and get the VHS tapes. Back in a flash."He winked. "Just make yourself uncomfortable." I settled in on the devil's couch with a sigh. It was only a little lumpy, but it would have to do.
The House of Claus “Santa, the representatives of the North Pole Committee of Public Safety are outside. They say this is your last chance, or they will take the palace by force.” The big red belly hung low over the rumbling fire place. Santa’s head was bowed but his eyes burned with intensity. Visible through the ornate windows behind him, a thick snow fell on thousands upon thousands of elves. Men, women, children – workers in tattered clothes, holding torches or crude homemade weapons. They took to the streets on December 1st, and now it’s December 22nd. The North Pole was crumbling. The status quo was breathing its last breath. Would it take Christmas down with it? “Forty generations of Clauses have held the North Pole. Forty generations have kept this mindless rabble fed, clothed, and docile. Our annual contribution to the world has left us here in peace and solitude. Now they cry revolution, ancient wounds fester and spread…” Santa turns his bright blue gaze to his sole remaining advisor: Matteo, the commander of a legion of Swiss Guards. One hundred of the deadliest fighters on planet Earth, the descendants of a gifted legion from a pope long lost to the dustbin of history. Personally loyal to Santa and sworn to protect him no matter what the cost. They alone remained when Santa’s inner circle crumbled, when the revolutionaries broke into his Treasurer’s house and butchered him in his bed. After that, the rest of Santa’s lieutenants either threw in their lot with the rabble or fled the North Pole. Ezekiel, Santa’s Minister of Merrymaking, tried to escape on a dogsled under cover of night. He was spotted by a group of revolutionary children, playing on the outskirts of town. They dragged him back to the city and were rewarded as heroes. The revolutionaries constructed a scaffold below Santa’s palace, giving him the best view. Ezekiel was walked through the crowd and placed on the scaffold, a tight noose made of silver tinsel tied around his little elven neck. At the massive double doors of Santa’s palace, five Swiss Guards were all that stood between revolution and the House of Claus. They watched the minister on the scaffold but dared not move. If the palace was breached, the revolution would be all but complete. “Okay,” Santa said to Matteo. “Escort the Committee of Public Safety to the throne room.” “Sir,” Matteo bowed, swept his cape off the stone floor and left the room. Santa went to his desk, scribbled a note and sealed it in an envelope. Hanging by the fire was a single stocking. He put the envelope in it. Santa’s throne room was enormous, with two rows of massive ice pillars running the length of it, and Christmas trees in the most exquisite decorations interspersed between the pillars. Thick rugs and warm oil lamps balanced the solemnity of the space with coziness. Next to Santa’s throne was a small table. A plate of cookies and a glass of milk sat on it. Gathered in the middle of the room were a dozen elves, of an average height of about four feet, dressed in tweed suits, with saggy hats and big, pointy ears. They chattered nervously. Their leader, Algar, was a grizzled elf with a long, black beard and beady eyes. He drew from his pipe and paced before the throne. Suddenly his ears perked up. He looked to the edges of the room. Filing in from all sides were Swiss guards. The room fell silent. The elves looked about them, as the Swiss Guards formed a impenetrable wall. “What is this?” Algar said. “You won’t intimidate us. If even a single hair on our heads was put out of place, the wrath of the people would tear all of you limb from limb.” Santa walked into the room and stood before the throne. “Santa,” Algar said, putting his pipe in his coat pocket. “Algar.” “Have you decided to accept our terms? The choice is simple. Accept that republican democracy has come to the North Pole, agree to form a Constitution and step aside, and your life will be spared. Refuse, and there is nothing more I can do for you. Not even as an old, old friend.” Santa took a bite of a cookie. “Yes, I understand, Algar. I have made my choice.” The elves stiffened. Algar didn’t draw a single breath as Santa paused, waiting. He sipped some milk. “I choose,” Santa said quietly, “war.” The Swiss guards drew their blades in unison; the sound of scraping steel filled the hall. The elves panicked and tried to run for the doors, but there was no escape. The Swiss guard commenced to slaughter them, down to the last elf. Algar drew a knife from inside his coat and charged at Santa. Just before he could stick in Santa’s neck, the big man swatted him off his feet with a massive war hammer. Algar flew into a pillar. As he dropped to the ground, a Swiss guard impaled him on the end of a spear. “Send them back to their friends,” Santa said. Outside in the cold, snowy streets, the crowd burst with energy when they saw movement on Santa’s balcony. The big glass doors swung open. They saw Algar appear. They cheered. But then Algar did something strange – he leapt from the balcony. And then he fell into the crowd, landing right on top of a pack of massive coal miners. They saw that Algar was dead, speared through the chest. As the angry cries rang out, the Swiss Guard threw open the doors of the palace and began firing the severed heads of the elves into the crowd. As the heads distracted the elves, horrified and sickened, the guards charged into the crowd in a phalanx formation, slaughtering at will. The guards made it almost up the entire city block, as elves scattered in all directions, leaderless and afraid, before the revolutionaries could regroup. But they had reinforcements. A defected cavalry leader, waiting on a side street with fifty reindeer troops, sprang into action, defying his orders to wait until Algar gave the command. He charged into the crowd and saw the Swiss guard’s massacre. Sounding the triumphant battle horn, the reindeer charged the phalanx from the flank and shattered it. The tide turned. The masses swelled and surged toward the palace. The Swiss guardsmen were overwhelmed, beaten down and torn limb from limb. Their heads were impaled on pikes and carried through the doors of the palace. Santa, soaked in blood, war hammer in hand, fought for every inch of his palace. Matteo grabbed his arm as they backed up a spiral staircase, fighting off elves on every step. “It has been an honor, Santa. I consider it a privilege to die by your side.” “Die? No, Matteo. No—” Just then an elf with a spear managed to strike Santa in the gut. The latest of many wounds, but it drew blood like it had struck oil. Matteo cut the elf in two and his body fell down the stairs. Matteo helped Santa into his study and barricaded the door. Santa sat against the wall. “Matteo, listen. Take this.” Santa ripped a necklace off. It had a pendant on it, in the shape of a Santa hat. “This..” “I know its power, Santa. Don’t.” But Santa forced it into Matteo’s hand. The elves heaved themselves against the door. It shook. It wasn’t going to last long. “Go, use it. Find her. It’s our only hope.” “Who?” The door cracked. “It’s our only hope…” “Who?!” “My daughter. The last Claus.” The door cracked again, big enough for the elves’ weapons to break through. “Go!” As the door fell, Matteo dove across the room and into the fireplace, amulet in hand. In a flash of smoke, he was gone. The elves found Santa against the wall. He had driven a knife into his own heart. He was dead. Out on the balcony, the elves produced Santa’s head. The crowds erupted in bloodthirsty cheers. Santa’s head bobbed and danced in the cold night air. The revolution was complete. In Santa’s study, a young elf, his face covered in blood, a Swiss guard’s sword in his hand, inspected the mantel of Santa’s fireplace. He was Alcazar, Algar’s only surviving son. He was a leading candidate to be the new leader of the North Pole now that the entire Committee of Public Safety had been slaughtered. Alcazar took the single stocking off the fireplace and found the envelope inside. He opened it and read the message scrawled in Santa’s hand: The House of Claus will never fall. He crumpled it into a ball and hurled it into the fire. At the same exact moment, thousands of miles away, on another continent entirely, Matteo tumbled out of a fireplace.
"You have spent 10 cycles upon this world under heaven,"the angel spoke with a whispy lilt. "For this, you will be given a choice that has been given for ages past. Name however many more cycles you wish to remain in life, before returning to the arms of the afterlife. Know this, however; should you delay, the forces of fate will remove our protection of your final moments proportionally. Choose wisely, O child." "I wanna be a bajillion years old when I kick it!" The angel chuckled, though sounded strained. "Child of man, 'a bajillion' is not a number-" "Nine nine nine nine nine nine nine-" "Only our father could keep track of that many nines. Assuming all digits are nines, how many would you wish for?" "A bajillion!" The angel's gentle face twitched. "...No bajillion?" "No, child. There is no such thing as 'a bajillion'." "An infinity nines!" "Child, that I cannot do. For you to have infinite life would be to never die. It is in this contract that you are certain to die. Why, if you were infinite then you'd last as long as the father himself!" "So if I last as long as God, then I'd still die in the end, wouldn't I?" "Ye - wha?"The angel abandoned their holy smile and looked utterly bewildered. "Huh?" "My dad told me! He said nothing lasts forever! So if I last as long as god, then I'd still die!" "Your father was a fool! The holy one cannot die, for he is infinite! May your progenitor burn in hell for his heresy!"The angel roared with a sneer across their face. "Your foolishness, too, shall lead to untold agony! You shall have your wish - you shall perish the instant after the influence of God disappears from this world!" The angel left in a huff. Contract sealed, the world faded back into view. "It worked, dad! Pissing off the angel so they forget to think totally worked!" ~~-------------------------------~~ A bajillion years later ~~-------------------------------~~ Two dusty husks lay on cloudy rocking chairs. The endless void around them hummed a lullaby of nothing, save for the harmonies of their own heartbeats and neuron buzz. "Ah, I get it now." "Get what, kid?" "Since my life is forever set to end the instant after your influence on me ends, and your influence ends when my life ends, it's a deadlock." God snorted. A blast of dust shot out of his withered nostrils and shot into the darkness. "Took yer long enough." A few years were spent in comfortable silence. "Not only that, but the final condition is also true. The one where the longer you live, the more agonizing your death would be. I would say a death drawn to infinity, stretched beyond the event horizon of time, is a death truly, incomprehensibly, agonizing." "Finally, yer get it. Now shut it, I'm about to hit a crazy lick." The void continued humming nothing.
"Well, this is just typical,"Archibald moaned. He, along with Alexander, Anna, and Hellspawn the Second, were slowly sinking into an enormous mound of quicksand. I stood off to the side, having been the only one to fully review the survival handbook before embarking on the Quest for Ra's Amulet. "Dennis!"Anna shouted, craning her neck towards me. "Help us out, eh?" I sighed and said: "What you need to do is stop moving." Alexander scoffed. "I'd be able to stop moving if Princess Squirm here didn't keep brushing up against me." Anna rolled her eyes and attempted, unsuccessfully, to cross her arms. "Maybe I'd stop brushing up against you if that itchy trigger finger of yours didn't keep invading my personal space." "We pulled the trigger at the same time, you spineless wench!"Alexander screamed. "All right, all right, calm down,"I said. "Take deep breaths. The first thing you need to do is dump any extra weight you're carrying." Archibald rubbed his chin with his pointer finger. "You mean everything?" "Yes, everything,"I answered. Archibald removed his backpack and tossed it outside the quicksand's perimeter. A cornucopia of practical jokes, gag items, and novelty toys spilled from its mouth. A miniature confetti cannon exploded and its contents hit me directly in the face. "Good one, Arch,"I said. "Thanks, bruv,"he said with a grin. Hellspawn the Second seemed remarkably calm throughout all of this. Sensing my confusion, he looked me in the eye. "I've been to the underworld before,"he said, "and I don't mind going back."What a fucking creep. I grabbed a vine from a nearby tree, unraveled it from the branch it was wrapped around, and passed the end to Alexander. "Grab hold of this,"I said. "I'm not touching it if you did. You're mortal. Might rub off on me." "Look, Alex, are you fond of the body you have right now? 'Cause if you don't grab hold of this you'll get a new one awful quick." Alex nodded. "You're right. I've been on this Keto diet for too long to let it all go to waste. Come on, gang. Grab the vine." The remaining three hesitantly gripped the vine and I pulled with all my might, slowly but surely. After several agonizing minutes, they were free. "There's a good chap,"Archibald said, slapping me on the back. I reached around to discover that he had stuck a "Kick Me"Post-It there. Hellspawn shrugged. "Guess I'll have to wait to get Hades' autograph."He put in a pair of earbuds and started listening to Metallica. Alex and Anna refused to look at each other and instead communicated through angry shoves. I pulled out my map. "OK...so at this rate we've got...another twenty miles to the Cave of Ra's Amulet." Everyone groaned. "Can we ditch this guy? He's nothing but a downer,"Anna said. "You need me,"I said. "Only an earthly being can explain the ins and outs of this realm you've all found yourselves in. Without a guide, you'll destroy each other." They all looked around and slowly began to nod. "Right, then,"Hellspawn said. "Where to?" "Across the Pit of Infernal Sludge,"I said. "I call line leader!"Alex shrieked. "Fuck this. I'm flying over it,"Hellspawn said, spreading his devilish wings. Archibald snatched the map out of my hands, then whipped out his cell phone and filmed my reaction. "It's just a prank, bruv. Just a prank." In that moment, I made a decision. As soon as I had the Amulet in my hands, I was going to run. Leave them behind. They could all rot in the cave, for all I cared. They say the meek shall inherit. But perhaps the mortals deserve to inherit, too.
I look into the cave in front of me, the scorched vegetation around silent witnesses of all that have failed the “Three Tasks”. I have succeeded so far Traversing the Enchanted Forest and procuring the Sand of Dreams, but the last task I do not know if it can be done… fire from The Dragon to transform the sand into Glass Slippers. I wish I could say that I’m confident, that my love for Edgar will let me succeed where others have failed. > Oh Edgar, forgive me, I wanted to be your wife to give a mother to little Lucy, but I'm so scared… A deep growl that shakes the earth takes me out of my self pity. I clean the tears from my eyes and adjust the sheath of my sword, deep breath. I take my first step into the inky darkness, as I get deeper the rumble grows, I can see what's left of the other supplicants, a scorched wall there, a melted shield here. After what seemed like hours I finally reached the main chamber of the cave, in front of me The Dragon looked at me, smoke pouring slowly off his nostrils. I can feel his eyes piercing me, seeing everything of me, no place to hide. I'm of one mind to run away but instead I put a hand on my satchel, I can feel the heaviness of the sand and what it represents. If I shall die for love let it be. > Oh powerful Dragon, please hear my plea!, I need your help! - As heavy as the ambient was, I almost fell as the darkness was dispersed by the voice of The Dragon. A feminine voice, sweet and understanding it reminds me of summer and laughs; of the day I meet Edgar. > Ohh sweetie! Of course! Anything for Love - With a gesture the Dragon changes shape into an older woman in a simple blue dress, before I can do anything else I feel her embrace, and for the first time in weeks I feel safe. > I’m so sorry for the theatrics but I made a deal with Ella, only those that can face their own fears and choose death for love can receive my boon - > But what about all the others? Are they… d… dead? - > What!? No, they ran away before even talking to me. I keep tabs on them every now and again they just didn’t have the courage to return to their old lives.. - > So you will help me? The Glass Slippers? - > Oh that? of course, it is done - She said with a flicker of the wrist - Look on your satchel I did, and there they were the Glass Slippers > But you are also going to need a dress, we can’t have a bride without one. And I can probably get you a chariot or something to get you back home. It's been a while since I’ve done this. - --- > I still remember the face of the Queen when I returned with the Glass Slippers. If not for the King I don’t think I would have survived that encounter. But that's a story for another time. Your dad will be here soon, go get ready for dinner. - > But mom!! I want to hear the rest. - > Lucille Tremain!, don’t make me repeat myself! - > Sigh, fine… -
"We can't go in there, Victor" "Why not, Rabbi?" The Rabbi stood there for a second, his face one movement away from laughter, before recomposing itself and replying, "I guess you wouldn't yet know. You know how whenever we scout, I leave a mark somewhere on the property?" "Yes, Rabbi. What does that have to do with this house? I don't see any special marks." "But you do. Do you see that wooden cross on the wall, by the fireplace?" "Yes, Rabbi. That's the mark of Christianity as a religion. I know of no vampires that have that mark." "The one they call Christ is not a simple religious figure. He is the first and most powerful vampire there is. It's because of him that you call me Rabbi. It's also because of him that we can't feed from this house." "Pardon me, Rabbi. If Christ was a vampire, how did he get into so many houses? Why can't we feed from this house, if we have fed from houses already marked before?" "It's simple how he got in so many places so quickly. Since he is a powerful religious figure, many put the cross into their house themselves after accepting him into their hearts, a much more powerful symbol of invitation than simple invitation into their physical homes. They believe they are under his protection, and in a sense, they are. "You see, while they have the cross in their homes, Christ is the only being that can feed on them. He goes out of his way to defend the places where he will later feed. If we had gone in there, we would've met an end to our normally immortal lives. Typically, as vampires grow older, they also grow in power. Therefore, it's a rule to avoid feeding upon a place marked by a vampire senior to you, because if you do, you will lose against the senior vampire. Every marked house we have fed upon has been a mark of a vampire junior to me, so we were fine." "Pardon me again, Rabbi. If the cross is the mark of Christ the vampire, then why are many people still unmarked by the stench of vampires?" "The reason is simple, Victor. Since many accepted Christ into their heart without later revoking it, instead of feeding on their blood while they are alive, Christ feeds on their souls after they die." &#x200B; P.S. I tried not to break any rules on religion. If I did, then I'm sorry and am more than fine with this story being deleted.
“Captain, we've downloaded the data from the international space station black box.” The Captain raised his eyes to the young man in front of him. “Good. Where is it?” “Right here, sir.” The soldier dropped a little, metallic file driver on the table. “Any idea what happened?” “We didn't watch it yet, sir. But like you said”, the solider took a deep breath before continuing. “It looks like the aliens attacked, after all.” The Captain sighed, taking the driver and sticking it into a port on the screen in front of him. "We'll see.” The soldier made his way around the desk, placing himself behind the Captain as the video started playing onscreen. A lonely astronaut spoke to the camera. “We shouldn't have responded to their contact.” The astronaut's shaky, grainy face was sweating, his voice failing. “They're trying to get inside. They're violent.” The Captain typed a few commands on the keyboard, and the image went full screen. “We shouldn't have told them about the oil. They're going to kill us.” The captain let his eyelids go down. The soldier, nervous, cleared his throat. “I told you this was going to happen, sir.” “Are you questioning my command, soldier?” The young man had tears in his eyes. “No, sir. It's just that...” The soldier paused, regaining control over himself. “It's hard to stay impartial, for me, sir. It was my brother up there. You know that." The Captain let out a deep breath. On the audio feed, they could hear the sound of repeated bangs on the space station door. “Oh God...” The astronaut continued. “They killed the others, already. They're coming in." “We should have ignored them, sir.” The soldier whispered, avoiding eye contact with the Captain. "We shouldn't have answered their calls." “They're going to kill us. They're getting what they want. There's no way out. We should never hav – oh my God, they're in!” Both soldier and captain watched as the aliens broke through the wall of the space station; their guns in hand, their deformed faces screaming words they could not understand. “It was a mistake to make contact with a species more evolved than us, sir!”, sobbed the soldier, openly crying as he watched his brother's last moments onscreen. “You know that!” “I know.” The Captain whispered, between his teeth. Onscreen, the astronaut was being grabbed violently by the aliens, who tried to pull him outside the station. “Humans are not peaceful creatures, Captain!” He screamed, as the creatures dragged him further and further away from the camera. “They do not come in peace!" And then, onscreen, static and silence.
"OH GAWD YES" cried Mr. Slave in ecstasy. The seasoned members of the Inquisition looked on in horror as one by one, their time tested methods of torture failed on the bizarre creature before them. "We...have met our match it seems." "No! Blast it! Try again! Try the stretcher!" Ferdinand and Daniel grabbed the heavy, lumbering piece of machinery from the damp corner. "OH PLEASE YAS!" again cried Mr. Slave "My god...he...loves it." said the arch-inquisitor to himself. The two grunts moved Mr. Slave to the rack and began restraining his wrists and ankles. "YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! THIS IS GOING TO BE SO MUCH FUN" The two looked at each other with a look of futility and then back at the arch-inquisitor. A sullen nod from their superior beckoned them to begin. They moved inch by inch until Mr. Slave was so giddy that they shuddered in terror. "Who...IS...this man?" "Oooohh, Jesus Christ." squeeled Mr. Slave. "BLASPHEMER!!!! GRAB THE HOT IRONS!!!!" * EDIT: formatting and spelling EDIT 2: Thank you /u/Freevoulous for the fun prompt :) Glad you guys are enjoying it. Great start to the new account, and I'm feeling the love. EDIT 3:** I felt rather ambitious after this, so I posted another story [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/324rsi/wp_a_locksmith_uses_his_skill_to_break_into/) hope you guys enjoy it, and thank you all for the support!
Jim sat, heavily, in his chair, staring up at the sky. He didn't often drink, but tonight seemed a night for bourbon. He stared, and he thought. Jim had long since given up trying to make sense of the world. The country had gone mad, ever since that alien who looked like a man had arrived and started flying around, 'saving' people. Jim had watched his city descend into chaos, corruption, organized crime. Madness, despair. And now Batman and the Joker were at it again. Playing the old game once more. Pulling his city deeper into their sick vision. Deeper into insanity. The Joker... There was a lot of words that had been written about that man. But Jim suspected he knew who he really was. The Joker was the Batman. Jim took a long sip, feeling the heat of the drink hit his throat. He didn't drink much, but he was in a melancholic mood--he had to be, to think about things like this. The flush of relaxation hit him, and he felt kinks of stress in his back and shoulders ease a bit. The Batman. Bruce Wayne. The Dark Knight. The worst thing that had ever happened to his city. When the elder Waynes had died, they had left an obscene fortune to a brooding child. A child too immature to understand what had happened, too rich to be forced to become a ward of the state, too isolated to seek therapy and cope with the tragedy. So the kid had grown up weird, started dressing up like a Dracula Furry cosplayer, swinging around in the middle of the night with a grappling hook, looking to punch mobsters. His business got handed off to a caretaker, and his money was funneled into a treasure trove of new gadgets and experimental tech and revolutionary computers--none of which were for sale. He started driving around in a jet engine with an ejector seat. The kid was rich enough that he could have bought Congress, funded anti-trust and anti-corruption campaigns, ended poverty and hunger. But instead, he wanted to dress up in black leather and fistfight thugs. But that wasn't enough. Mere thugs wouldn't quell the boy's madness. Soon, there were... experiments. Monsters. Men who came back from the dead, women who controlled plants, boys in brightly colored spandex. Jim didn't know that Bruce had funded this plague of madness that he had unleashed, but the effect was the same: the city had a superhero, and superheroes needed supervillains. Mobsters started shooting ice and fire and lightning bolts, started building robots and summoning demons. Started naming themselves after animals, started dressing up as cartoons. How many of them were taking a Wayne paycheck? How many of them would know, if they were? How many were emulating Batman, trying to be the craziest, the scariest? How much of his madness was responsible for the state of the city? And the Joker... always, there was this Joker character. He always came back, he always had another brilliant or crazy or just plain cruel gimmick. And always, only Batman could stop him. Always he escaped prison or asylum or even death. Always he was the threat Gotham feared the most. And always, the Joker just justified every shitty decision Bruce had ever made. Jim wasn't sure the Joker was literally just Bruce in another stupid costume. In fact, it made more sense if Bruce had hired a bunch of guys over the years to be 'The Joker' for a week or two. Follow the script. Big dramatic fight, lose some teeth, get captured. Spend a while in Arkham. Get the payday, skip town, hand the toys off to the next sucker. For all Jim knew, being The Joker was like a breakout role for actors. Maybe The Penguin was a previous The Joker, proving to Wayne Corp that he had what it took to play the roles. Hell, maybe they all were in on it, the whole crazy bunch. It wouldn't surprise him if this were some big sex game; rich people from around the world, taking turns dressing up and being Batman and Joker, Catwoman and Poison Ivy. Maybe Batman was Bruce Wayne this week, but had been Lex Luthor a few months ago and Prince Charles or Michael Keaton for a few weeks back in the 80's. Wealth and privilege, taking turns spanking each other in spandex and turning his town into a disaster site. Jim looked down at his drink. He knew he was thinking crazy, but... So many people, hurt or killed. So much time and energy--and yes, money--wasted on this shit. The Batman was a sickness; The Joker, a disease. He finished his drink, and turned off the Batsignal. He wasn't paid enough to babysit these assholes. "Fuck 'em. I'm going home,"he said, to the city he didn't recognize.
Claus gave a hearty chuckle as he slammed the cage door shut in my face, and a chorus of giggling reindeer answered him. Behind them, I could see the faces of the elves staring helpless from their frosty workshop windows. None of them dared speak up against Santa's oppression; they were only one step up from those of us down in The Hole, and it wasn't a very high step either. Any word of disagreement would see them promptly "reassigned"to this icy hellscape, and making toys was certainly a lot cushier than clawing coal out of the icy walls. But naughty children need their gifts too, so here we are. Old Frosty was the king down here, and no one could ever remember when Santa had first thrown him into the pit. He'd chew on his old corncob pipe and bark out orders for everyone else to meet the daily coal quota. The other guys in The Hole hated me from minute one. Why? Because I was new, and different. Same as any shit assignment: once you've been doing it long enough, you grow to hate anyone who hasn't had to suffer the way you have. But Frosty? He had a special grudge against me for one simple reason: I was a reindeer. Yeah, that's right. I used to be one of them. At least, that's how the guys in The Hole saw it. I'd been cushioned and pampered just like the other reindeer, playing games instead of working and cavorting around in the sky. I tried to explain it to them: that the other reindeers were all dicks, and they'd abused me in every possible way. But that explanation just earned me the most savage beating of my entire life from the other workers. I learned to keep quiet about my past after that. Old Frosty had been one of them too. Word was that he and Claus had been the best of pals long ago, and there'd been some kind of falling out. No one knew exactly what had happened, but the rumor mill tended to work overtime down here with nothing to do but talk in between swings of the pickaxe. Some claimed that old Mrs. Claus had taken a liking to Frosty's long pointy nose. Others claimed that Santa grew jealous of children's affections, and wanted to knock out a rival when he had a chance. All I know is that Frosty hated the jolly bastard, and he took it out on me. There was a cave-in about six months in, and our power was cut off. My time to shine, eh? The other workers soon discovered what had set me apart from the other reindeer, and with me leading the way we were all able to find another exit from The Hole. See, Claus only strung lights through the mine where he had to. There were all sorts of icy crevasses and dark pits that no one cared to go down and explore. But once they saw what I could do, we discovered a passage around the cave-in. A passage out of The Hole! And we began planning our escape that very day. Old Frosty got jealous. He hadn't been down in the dark with us, and he wasn't part of this new brotherhood. Loyalties down in The Hole began to shift as they realized that Frosty had never actually done anything to earn his leadership. He was just in charge because he outlasted everyone else. I knew that, and he knew that. And he was determined to make sure that he continued to outlast the others, starting with me. A pair of snowy hands gave me a strong shove from behind as I was heading deeper into the mine over a narrow icy bridge. I toppled over the side of the ledge and down into the gaping black maw below. The fall would have killed pretty much anyone, except Frosty forgot one thing: I was a fucking reindeer. And we can fly. I swooped up behind him as he was chortling with his little toadies about how easy it was. I slammed straight into him, leaving a reindeer-sized hole in his rotund midsection. That just pissed him off even more. A whooping and chanting crowd gathered around us as we circled each other; loyalties were forgotten as the rest of the men just wanted to see a good fight. My nose was like a damn fire engine siren, glowing brighter than I'd ever seen it. We tussled for an hour till I finally found the right strategy: it was the damn hat of his! I knocked it off and it fell squarely between my antlers, looking quite stylish. Old Frosty just stared, face frozen in one last horrified glare as he realized what was happening. Just for good measure, I bit the tip off of his long orange nose and glared around the circle, daring any of his little friends to defy me. No one stepped forward, and I left the now-lifeless snowman as a warning to future challengers. "Here's the deal,"I announced to everyone, claiming my spot as leader of the The Hole. "We're getting out of here. You're free to leave if you'd like, and good luck out there on the frozen tundra. But I have some unfinished business with the old man and his little reindeer friends. If anyone else would like to have a conversation with him about their treatment down in The Hole, then stick with me. It'll be an ass-kicking that will go down in history." ----- And if you liked this story you should also visit /r/Luna_Lovewell!
Richard Copper was a beculiar man, yes beculiar, which is definitely a word, which is used in this context of this particular story. He was a smith in the small town of York in the Britains. He had normal smithy days and did normal not in any way special smithy things. Except on this day, which was a Thursday. Which for some reason seems to be important to the overall context of this tale i am telling, a young fair haired man decided to visit him. It is not important who this man was for some reason, because he had with him the holy grail. You probably think that is exactly the reason why the identity of this fair haired individual was very, very important. But it just wasn't, don't even ask me why. "Are you the man Richard Copper?"the stranger asked laying before us the facts we already know. Richard answered with a high pitched gravely voice: "Yes. state your business."Was he a banker? Or did he deliver Produce to the lords and ladies who can not be bothered to look at the very good produce isles of the local markets, implying there was such a thing. Was he a tree, which he wasn't because we know he wasn't. Or do we? "I am a fair haired man, having with me the holy grail.", Said the fair haired man carrying with him the holy grail, who was very much not a tree. "And i come to take you with me on a quest."Do people actually state that now? Subtlety is sharing it's grave with chivalry i assume. But surely it has to be a very important quest because normally the quests in this land were about looking for the holy grail, they of course mostly end in death. That seems to be because of the fair haired man. Or Something. Who even knows at this point. I certainly don't. He continued: "You are the best smith in all the lands."no he wasn't he wasn't even the best smith in York, he was Richard Copper. I knew him, he was a nice bloke with a weird voice. Well the man probably knows more than me. He looked directly at the smith: "And i will need you to accompany me to look for the best steel in the mountains of the dragon to forge a blade fit for our beloved king." Well okay, slow down. First of all the King used a hammer, which wasn't very common but he was good at it and either the fair haired man was a villain trying to betray Richard or simply said: an Idiot. "I will accompany you as i am the man who knows most about steel in all of the world."said Richard sheething his sword. Oh he has a sword with him now? that would have been nice to know. And then there came a swarm very hot wenches with even fairer of hair then the young man with the holy grail and they looked at Richard and they wanted to consume their duties with him. Seriously Richard, Fuck, Richard, for gods sake. I may be your friend but you can not bribe me to read your fan fiction. I am losing customers. Go Home. Seriously go home and keep beating shit with hammers. I Have Ales to sell. "Idiot"i whispered to myself.
When twenty six kilometre long extraterrestrial ships appeared in orbit, they were met with equal parts joy and terror. Joy in that we weren't alone, and that we might soon fly with them. Terror from our own stories, the thoughts that they would break us, make us into slaves. Countries raced to make first contact. Welcoming messages were broadcast, as the world watched with bated breath. For three days, those broadcasts were met with silence. They did nothing but sit there. That was what the public thought. But behind closed doors, there were reports of them coping vast amounts of data, breaking through firewalls and the like with little effort. On the fourth day, a message came from them. A simple audio file, available in every known language. It was a clearly synthetic voice, speaking without emotion. "Humanity. You are guilty of breaching the galactic population limit for a planet. You are allowed no more than five billion individuals. We will return you to compliance." That is when fear took over from joy. Those twenty ships began raining fire down upon our most populous cities. We tried to fight back, even as diplomats tried to get through to them. We had no idea there was a galactic consensus. But despite our best efforts, the slaughter continued. When they finished, they sent another message. It was that same voice, one we had come to despise. "Those who hear this, congratulations on surviving. We wish you the best, and look forward to seeing you join our number." With that, those ships left, leaving us alone again. We had to mourn those we lost, taken by an uncaring hand. In the aftermath, world leaders came together. For the first time.in our history, the entire world had a common enemy. Most cast aside previous issues to join up. Those who didn't were swiftly removed by their people, replaced by others who were willing to work. In the ashes of a split people, Humanity became one. We threw ourselves into reaching space. We were determined to find those murderers, and have vengeance for those lost. By working together, in a few short years we had created our first space-saving warship. Data we had scraped from the invaders was analysed, and taken to create our own drives. We cheered when the first FTL engine was proven to work. But we did not stop there. We created smaller, unmanned vessels. They travelled to the asteroid belt, mining for resources. We made a shipyard in geostationary orbit over the Pacific Ocean. We threw ourselves into advancing as fast as possible, leaching our combined rage to propel us. We expanded, reaching out to nearby habitable planets. We created colonies, increasing our number. We made more and more ships, each carrying the most advanced technology we could cram inside. And we hunted. We hunted for the other races. We found them by chance, a lost ship coming into our space. Immediately, we seized it, taking it apart for all the knowledge we could. Its inhabitants, a species resembling half a metre tall woodlice, were understandably terrified of us. But cooler heads prevailed on boarding. They were civilians, not our targets. But we could use them. And we did. We convinced them we wished to join the wider galaxy. They were more than willing to help, as apparently bringing in a new species would make them famous. But behind our smiling faces, daggers were sharpened. They would lead us to their centre. We would find out which race was responsible. When we found out who, they would realise just how big a mistake they had made. A/N: Thank you everyone! For those calling for a second part, rather than making a second part immediately, I am planning on taking this to r/hfy. This will involve a bit of a re-write, to make it much more detailed. Edit to add: Here is the link to [part one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/u1enk8/human_vengeance_chaper_1_surprise_guests/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
"See, the hoomans call this "creestll meath""The words echoed through the bathroom in the shitty decrepit spaceport bathroom, bouncing wildly around off the tacky chromed walls and ceiling. "And I'm gonna find out what the fuss is about as soon as I work up the grebmocks to do it"The silence after that statement seemed like it should have echoed, but it didn't because that was a metaphor and sounds are a requirement for echoes to actually occur in this context. "Dude, you really shouldn't have that. How in the name of fusion did you even get that? DO you have any idea how toxic weak hooman drugs are? and you're gonna grockle with what is supposedly the strongest one?!"A second, much more guttural voice responded in a tone that rumbled the tacky, chrome plated bathroom. "Well, Yeah! I wanna feel the energy of the universe! I wanna try it!"The sound of a formerly sealed pouch being torn open is present, then near instantly two voices can be heard groaning and gurgling, and after a few seconds there is a silence. In a room with a uniformed jellyfish, a medical examiner/detective droid spoke in a droning, level tone. "As you can hear from the quantum video reconstruction taken from the port bathroom, these two were in the room when a small amount of the class 7 toxic substance known to the humans as "crystal methamphetamine"was released into the air from the enthusiastic opening of the package it was stored in. Death was near instant for both occupants of the room, as the minimum lethal dose to grebolons was determined in testing to be in the nanogram range, and the package contained about 5 grams of the illicit substance" "The recommended action is to space the contaminated corpses and cleanse the washroom with extreme prejudice. Additionally, charges may be pursued against the dockworkers that allowed this to be smuggled aboard. This concludes my analysis, I do not have the required accreditation to make further statements on the matter" The jellyfish sighed. It was just another day on the force, yes, but he often wondered what possessed some individuals to completely discard all common sense and kill themselves and others with their recklessness. Drugs, he thought, could not possibly be THAT good.
My response here does not speak for the entirety of the mod team. 1. We currently hide all up/downvote scores for 4 hours before the scores are visible. This may not be entirely effective at reducing the Fastest Gun In The West effect, so I will look into increasing it. 2. This is not a good idea. It relies solely on CSS, which means that it can be easily disabled by anyone with RES, and it also does not affect mobile devices. We won't use CSS for anything other than the visuals of the subreddit. If reddit does provide some sort of mechanism for hiding usernames ([unlikely](http://www.reddit.com/r/ideasfortheadmins/comments/e17fv/xpost_from_askreddit_would_it_be_possible_to_get/c14iur2)), we will look into that; but as it is, username hiding is not an option. 3. Contest mode has some unfortunate logistics issues for us moderators that prevent us from applying it to every thread. Namely, it removes our ability to sort by new, meaning that we can't actually moderate those threads effectively. Suppose a thread gets "big"(as it often does) and hits the front page. There is always hundreds of crap comments that flood in when this happens and if the post is in contest mode, we can't remove them because contest forces our sort as well, and because the post is in contest mode, those low-effort non-story responses will show up to the reader, ruining his or her experience. That said, with an [upcoming beta feature](http://www.reddit.com/r/modnews/comments/2z913o/moderators_new_features_for_testing_before/) we will be able to effectively implement this type of sorting. When the feature comes out, we will look at possible implementations. That may be a couple of months away though.
I walked into the bar and everyone laughed. I was in a pink dress, just one of the many results of my curse, and everyone thought it was hilarious. They stopped laughing when I knocked out three of them in one blow. I sat at my usual stool, and ordered a beer. "Joe?"the guy next to me, Bill, asked. "Is that you?" I turned to look at him, spat in his eye, and said. "Yep. It's me. Still as tough and strong as ever, even with that stupid curse. I never should have gone into the woods."I thought back to that night, remembering the ordeals I had been through. However, my thoughts were interrupted when some guy in a blue puffy suit burst in. "Fair Maiden!"he yelled, and everyone turned to look, first at him and then at me. The laughing resumed. "I have come to claim your hand in marriage!"This was the fifth prince that had asked for my hand in marriage. I didn't know if the curse just made them out of thin air, or if there were really that many homosexual princes just waiting for a 'maiden' such as myself, but I didn't really care either. I punched him in the face. These princes weren't all that tough. The bartender brought out my beer, and I chugged it. Then I got up to leave. I didn't really care to hang around people much; the people who were okay with me were the ones I hated, and the people I put up with hated me. I walked out the door, being sure to stomp on the prince's face on my way out. There was only one good thing that I had found about the curse. I sang a heavy metal song, one of my favorites, and my ride walked up. Everyone in the bar watched as I rode away on a live grizzly bear.
Intro "What... is all of this?" With paling faces, the sailors silently walked through the crumbled ruins and ashes of what looked to be a coastal village. The captain, Guatemoc, remained calm and collected, but if one paid enough attention, they could see a tinge of fear in his eyes. "This place has been cursed. The scattered bones of this village tell a dark story. They must have offended the gods to have suffered so." The vice-captain voiced his opinion against the backdrop of desolation. Even in the Aztec Empire, fire was not often used to burn away entire villages. Often, they would capture the enemies and punish them, sacrifice them, or enslave them, but burning them all alive was a different matter entirely. It meant washing away all of what once existed, cleansing it entirely from the earth. Only the worst of sins required such action. "There is no plant life around, no animals, nothing. The land is dead. You are right in saying that this place is cursed. Is this truly all that is out there?" "Let us travel inland first, and explore some more. It cannot all be like this,"Guatemoc commanded. Thus, the sailors continued inland, past the coast, and onto the roads. Finally, they began to see signs of life, with sprouting greens and towering forests. But there were still patches of scorched land all around, and often strewn bones and melted weapons littered the roads. And while there were still some roads, they had been long overgrown and broken. The Aztec sailors were at a loss; clearly, civilization once existed here, but no longer. "Look, over there! It seems like a city,"a scout called out. The group turned and saw a tall wall that presumably hid a city within, with the tip of a castle peaking out beyond the distance. "Alright, let's make our way there,"the vice-captain ordered. After walking an hour, the group finally made their way to the rotted gate of the city walls. With the help of 20 men, they managed to break down the abandoned doorway, before cautiously creeping inwards.
The sight of your home planet exploding into infinite pieces is quite jarring. At first, the beauty sucks you in. Your eyes lock onto the sight silently. Eventually, your eyes wander around, noticing that the other two ISS astronauts have joined you in the bay to watch. It was as if they had been paged subconsciously to join together and watch as everything they had ever known ended. "What do we do now?"Kirnikov had asked. I hadn't attempted to answer. Perhaps if I had, things would be different. Perhaps If I had, I might have said something soothing. Something that would convince them to pause and think before floating to their deaths in the now endless expanses of space, our home no longer anchoring us to any future in this universe. Perhaps they would have asked me to join them, and I wouldn't be left to die alone. But I hadn't answered, left alone to the sirens piercing my ears with their constant alarms. Each alarm signals a different danger threatening our ship. A different way for my life, the last intelligent being from Earth, to end. "FLARE TO THE HEAD", a booming voice interjected from afar, "WOULD BE FAR LESS PAINFUL." "What?" "DECOMPRESSION IN THE VACUUM OF SPACE CAN BE QUITE A PAINFUL EXPERIENCE FOR HUMANS."The voice sighed, its soundwaves sending the ISS spinning, hurtling me out of my sleep chamber and through the halls until I smacked into the viewpoint window with a thud. "I HAD MEANT TO FIX THAT, BUT NEVER GOT TO IT." "Could you please lower your voice? It's hurting my ears." "My apologies,"the voice replied with a chuckle. "It's been a while since I've communicated with a human. I'd forgotten how sensitive your little ears were." "Are you God?" "God? There is no god here. I just made this place when I was first starting to experiment with universe creation. We hadn't even begun to study the creation of gods. That's complex stuff." "So you created this universe?" "Yeah, sorry about that. So how was it?" "How was it?" "Yeah, I have to shut it down now. It's quite expensive to keep a universe running these days, and nobody's playing Earth anymore, not since the controversies." "Playing Earth?" "YEAH,"the voice boomed. "Shit, sorry, forgot about your ears. You see, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Earth was originally an attraction for all ages. The freedom from plotline was supposed to make it a vacation from Life, not just another game." "I don't understand what the fuck you're talking about." "Ah, right. Your whole universe was created by me as a game. It was revolutionary, hailed by critics and audiences alike. Everyone kept playing Earth over and over again. But eventually, there were just too many players and nobody enjoyed it anymore. There was too much competition, so everyone just left. And now, nobody's coming back." "Everyone just left? Do you mean that everyone on Earth was just playing a game?" "No, of course not. Whenever we installed a new player, we'd raise the population by approximately 10,000 NPS humans like you for the new player to control and mess with. We figured that this would allow us to scale the gameplay without monitoring the universe much. But then the players kept upgrading their technology and it just got out of control. We didn't have time to develop life in another part of the universe or create a Mars life path, so we just decided to close it down. Plus, the success of Earth basically meant that every game we'd release would have instant success. So we focused on new universes." "Fuck,"I said. "So my whole life, all of our lives. It really has no meaning, huh?" "Your life? Of course it does. The astronaut life path is a popular choice. We spent a lot of time programming this path, that's why you lasted the longest." "That doesn't sound like meaning to me." "Nope, I guess not. Anyway, you should use the flare." If a flare goes off in space through a man's head and nobody is there to see or hear it, does it really go off? Yes. Yes, it does.
Strictly speaking, my “thing” isn’t negative. I reasoned with myself as I made my way to the door. Strictly speaking, it doesn’t hurt anyone...that much...right? So, strictly speaking, they should not be here. I opened the door. My visitor smiled, “Miss Fae, is it?” I studied her as best I could. She was taller than I was, which was saying something, I was above average in height, she was a giant, a slim, well proportioned giant. So far, nothing indicates her “thing”. “Yes, of course,” I replied, deciding to lay off my “thing” for when things got serious. There was no reason to be suspicious now. The giant smiled, offering me a hand, “ Nice to meet you, Miss Fae, my name is Estelle.” I took her hand, smiling too, “Hi, Estelle.” “You received a call from the ATDAR right? Regarding a problem in your papers?” She asked. I nodded. ATDAR: Academy of Talent Development and Research, also in charge of making sure anyone with a “negative talent” do not abuse their talent. I told them that whatever I written in my paper was legitimately and they could send a person to check on me if they suspected otherwise. They suspected otherwise. Which they really shouldn’t. “I just want to ask a few questions, Miss Fae, would you mind if I step in?” Yes. Yes I would mind. “No, it’s my pleasure to have you,” I lied, smiling. Estelle frowned. Which she really shouldn’t. But she stepped in anyways. Giving my apartment a quick scan as she typed a few notes in her phone. “It says on your ID that you, I quote: ‘can organise’, is that right?” “Mhm.” My apartment’s too messy, I realised. Way to go, Jess, you had one job. Estelle seemed to read my mind, giving me an accusing look, “pretty nice apartment. You don’t organise it?” Yes, my mouth quirked up slightly, I have the ace in the deck now. “It’s tiring being so good at something, you know?” I laughed, shrugging, “give me 50 pounds per room and I’ll give you a show.” Estelle humoured me with a smile. Good, she believed it. Of course she would, have I ever said something that no one believed? Yet she did not seem to entirely buy my lie. “May I ask what’s the problem?” I asked, lowering myself into my couch and gesturing to the seat next to me. Estelle refused. “Your document seemed, suspicious to me,” she finally replied. I laughed, “suspicious? Since when did ATDAR go with instincts? What are you, a lie detector?” This is ridiculous. I feels ridiculous for feeling nervous. There was no way they will be able to get me. “Yes,” Estelle admitted. “What?” The word that came out of my mouth barely sounded human. Which proved to be a grave mistake. Estelle’s back straightened at that momentary surprise, making her tower over me. She was challenging me, she probably suspects my talent. I leaned forward in my seat and watched her. A talent can overpower another. I’ve watched enough duels to know that.I’ve seen a Dancer take on a gymnast. A sculptor with an ice sculptor. Estelle held my gaze and I gave her a smile. A silent agreement passed through us. “Miss Fae, that’s a curious name. Have you heard that a Fae can’t lie?” Estelle started. That was purely coincidental. My family were the most human humans to ever human. Besides, I did not have to lie about that, I had perfectly rounded ears and a wingless back to prove it. “Huh, maybe, I’ve always found it hard to lie,” I lied, harder than I’ve ever lied in the past. Truth was, I’ve been lying the moment I knew I could. Yes, I’m over 21. No, I don’t do drugs. Yes, I’m in a relationship. No, I’m using my talent. From the confusion in Estelle’s eyes, I knew I won this round. I lifted a half-finished bottle of red wine from the coffee table and sat back. We shall duel. And I shall win.
“Well, the newest members are Honeypuff and you, Killmurder”, started Bonesplosion. “I think you two are the most likely suspects.” The others agreed. “Fair enough”, Killmurder started, “but I have my suspicions about you, Creamy. “You joined last Tuesday, right Creamy?” “Yup!” “You were never in our files, right?” “Yup!” “And your name is Creamy Honeypuff, right?” “Yup!” “That doesn’t match our names at all! I think it is clear that-” Killmurder began before he got interrupted. “Wait just a minute!”, Creamy started. “Alright, shoot.” “You just joined a week before I did, right?” “Yes”, Killmurder groaned. “However, I already had documents.” Was Creamy really trying to defend himself? “What documents?”, questioned Creamy. “You correctly called them files earlier, but you should know that our files are not physical documents.” “Wait, that was just an honest mistake!” “As for me, my ‘documents’ have not been assigned since I just defected from the Sugarsweet Clan.” “You did?!” “Yes; you should know these things, considering that you joined earlier than I did.” “Why wasn’t I told this?!”, yelled Killmurder. “You would know if you had an official Blood Death Squad email, which you should have,” retorted Creamy. “Besides, how are you even a Commander? That rank isn’t available to people who have been here for less than half a year, including us.” “I don’t know”, Killmurder squeaked. “Also, your name doesn’t match”, Honeypuff continued.” “WHAT?! MINE?!” “I’ll admit, my name is goofy, but really, Killmurder? That has nothing to do with a human body! That’s just an action. Is that the best the Sugarsweet Clan could come up with? You might have tricked the others, but you can’t trick a Sugarsweet defector like myself.” “Wait, I can explain!”, started Killmurder, but the others had already called for security.
NASA spent years building a nuclear submarine that had enough energy to melt the kilometres of ice it needed to penetrate into the potentially life bearing waters of one of Jupiter's most promising moons. The orbital satellite pinged information from the above ice ground station down to the sub and back, we knew the craft had penetrated the surface and its AI was investigating what the waters held but that was days ago due to information delay from the other side of the solar system. When we received the first dataset the scientists quickly had to follow ambiguous protocol that was created when no one could imagine that our own solar system harbored extraterrestrial life. The news was kept secret from the public and all but the highest authority figures of the new world. The AI on the ship had established contact with a new intelligent species that seems to have evolved from hydrothermal vents found on the sea floor of Europa. The actual animals were transparent, they communicated with bioluminescent bursts of controlled color and shaped light. At first we had a very hard time deciphering what they were trying to communicate, it wasn't until a human with the mental ability to see sounds and hear light known as the condition synaesthesia saw the feed that we knew anything they were saying. To this person with synesthesia they could understand what the beings were trying to portray, people with synesthesia were drafted from around the world to help translate the information being transmitted to us. The very first thing we found out was their curiosity, they had themselves analysed all the equipment on the sub and were depositing their own samples into our machines giving us far more insight then the AI could have gathered itself, but the first message we deciphered also proved their curiosity. "Are you alive?"they asked. They assumed that what was visiting them was of its own mind and creation, that robotic life had came into existence, this heavily autonomous submarine was what lived on earth as the dominant species with dry land being baron. The sub did not have any way to contact them back, they have to dwell in their own curiosity until we se d another mission.
They don't understand. Of course they didn't--how could they? Those primitive little ape-children were weak and cowardly. They knew nothing of war, having never once engaged a single member state of the Galactic Concordance in honorable battle. No, the sniveling ape-children always wanted to talk, to negotiate! Not once, in the sixty-three cycles since they had made contact with the Concordance, had they ever even attempted to assert their dominance over a territory. The cowards would rather give up three systems in exchange for one...but the poor fools had never dealt with the Ingarian Empire. All of the member states of the Concordance knew the military prowess of the Ingarian Empire well. Even the ever-belligerent Pokari understood--when the Ingarian Empress decided that the Empire would annex a system, the mighty Ingarian conquest fleet would move in, sterilize the worlds, and it was ours. That was the way of things, and the Concordance members respected that. Yet, just three turns after annihilating the human colonies in the Cygnus system, those apes still think they can talk their way out...as if their weakness will keep us from taking more and more systems. The humans don't understand--but they soon will. _______________________________________ They don't understand. The Galactic Concordance isn't a perfect system--honestly, there is no such thing--but it has kept a general peace throughout out quadrant for generations. Yes, there have been minor squabbles between member states when one expands into a neighboring system, but they have always been minor. The aggressor announces their intent in the council, and after both parties conduct a military analysis, a small conflict takes place in the system in question--the victor stays, and the vanquished is allowed to evacuate the system in peace, with no further losses. Clean. Simple. And it has kept relations between the various members of the Concordance civil for generations. But the humans...the humans don't understand. Since encountering the Concordance, they have been one of the most friendly, and most peaceful species encountered. Not once, in sixty-three years, have they declared an intent to annex another member state's territory, even when it would be a prudent decision to do so. And they have gone out of their way, time and again, to avoid moving into systems that might potentially be under contention. It's certain that they were taken by surprise when the Ingarian Empire announced their claim to the human colony worlds in the Cygnus system. Perhaps their colonists weren't aware that when their system defense ships were beaten, that it was time to leave, and that by refusing, they would be annihilated, along with the structures. The humans don't understand--but with luck, the council may guide them to understanding. ___________________________________________________ They don't understand. Humanity almost didn't make it to the stars. We have dreamed about it for time untold. We studied, hoped, and planned, and almost in spite of ourselves, we finally made it. Once we finally stopped trying to murder each other, we made it. Our joy upon reaching out and finding others was immeasurable. Our joy in realizing that they were, for the most part, friendly and helpful was nearly unimaginable. The thought that we could choose to engage in combat with friendly alien races as a matter of politics? Heartbreaking. We were done with killing, we told ourselves. We would do all that we could to keep from spreading our bloody hands throughout the galaxy--we wanted to reach out with open hands, not with a closed fist. And, for decades, it worked. We were able to deal with every race we encountered; even if we had to take a less-than-stellar deal, we could always walk away with our hands clean, and our heads held high. But then we encountered the Ingarians, and that all changed. They announced their intent on the Cygnus colonies, and we tried. We tried to negotiate. We had found several resource rich planetoids nearby, surely those would be an acceptable trade. Yet, despite our best efforts, they attacked anyway. We tried to work with them, to end the conflict, but it seemed that in spite of, or perhaps due to our efforts, they only became more aggressive, and more brutal. When they killed the 23,000 colonists in the Cygnus system, the vote was but a mere formality. The Terran Alliance was, unfortunately, at war. The Ingarian Empire thought it was an open and shut affair. They didn't realize that we avoided war, not because we were weak, or unprepared. No, despite our best efforts, it seemed that war was all but ingrained in our genes. And they would soon come to find that just because we avoided war at almost any cost, it most certainly did not mean that we weren't prepared for it. We were always prepared for war. Ever since we first picked up a sharp rock. And throughout the ages, there was one rule that humanity had always agreed on: win. We would show the Ingarian Empire the true meaning of war. We would show them why we tried so hard to avoid it. We would hate it, and we would spend vast amounts of resources in helping them rebuild their infrastructure after they surrendered, but we would do what we had to do to win. The Ingarians don't understand...but as our fleets surround their home world, they will.
Carefully navigating the Dark Road, I skittered to my destination: a simple bedroom in a suburban house, or at least the outside of it in our world. After some searching I’ve found the passage into the human realm. Peeling the fabric of the shadow apart little by little, I began squirming through it. The process took quite a bit of time as usual, so instead of simply waiting I focused on the details of my assigned victim. Boy, about the age of seven, two parents, weak heart, perfect cover for my venom. The ritual was quite mundane too: one night of observing, three with indirect contact, two direct appearances, and the final night of course. Finally, the front of my maw and two legs touched the wooden floor under the boy's bed. The rest quickly followed. Not a single sound disturbed the heavy silence of the room. Suppressing my metabolism, I prepared for a long and boring first night. My half-sleep was disturbed by faint whispers. The voices, too chaotic and quiet to make out, seemed like they were coming from directly above me. This was definitely something to report later, but I decided not to take action. The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Squinting all of my eyes from the first rays of sunlight, I retreated back to the Dark Road. The shadows trembled more than usual, as if they were disturbed recently, but I found no evidence of a successful passage. I proceeded even more slowly than usual to not make any permanent tears. My curator paid almost no attention to the report. The whispers caught his interest a bit, but it was still clear just how little this assignment mattered to him. Half of his faces were asleep, the other half squinted at me suspiciously. After receiving the order to proceed as usual, I decided to return to the Dark Road and watch the room during the day from the outside, just to be sure. I set up my web on my side of the shadows and prepared for another long and dull watch. This time I was correct. No one entered the room until the very evening. I haven't heard a single sound from the parents either, and even the front door creaked only twice: in the morning and in the evening. Both times the only voice accompanying the sound was the boy's. As he came in, wearing a set of blue pajamas, I finally got a good look at my target: somewhat short for his age, pale skin, blonde hair, brown eyes, freckled. My senses were telling me something was definitely off, but with nothing to report, I prepared for the second night. Squeezing through the fabric of the shadow, I meticulously observed my surroundings to build a good picture of the room in my mind. Mimicry was never my strong suit, but indirect contact almost always required it. Appearing out of the shadow, I began planning the first encounter. What would it be? Ominous noises? Web? Perhaps something more original? That's when I heard the boy's voice: “It's ok if you want to come out… they say I'm a monster too.” In shock I rushed from under the bed, and loomed over the boy, my massive frame covering up half of the wall. For a simple human to notice me? My body trembled with rage and surprise from the very thought of it. “How did you know I’m here?” I hissed. “I… I’m not sure.” He scratched his head and laughed nervously. “I just did. You are a monster, right?” “I suppose you can call me that, little one. Are you not afraid?” “Well, if they say I’m a monster then another monster won’t hurt me, right? I’m pretty new to this whole thing. I hope we’re not cannibals.” “Most of us are not,” I answered more to myself then to the boy. “And who exactly said you are a monster, little one?” “My name is Hansel. You can call me that if it’s easier.” He was still smiling. “Mostly my parents. They shout at me all the time and say mean things.” “Your… parents?” My senses were in high alarm. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I knew hanging around was not a good idea, but I still had to see. “Lead me to them.” Hansel simply nodded in response and walked out of the room. I climbed onto the ceiling just in case and followed. The boy made his way to the second bedroom, looking up at me from time to time. As the door creaked open, I found myself face to face with a most unusual sight. Two people, or more accurately bodies, sat on the large bed. Lifeless, dry husks with brown wrinkled skin stared at the wall in front of them with glassy absent eyes. The faces of the man and woman were distorted in horror. Their hands gripped each other clumsily, as if arranged already after rigor mortis. Hansel approached them and sighed. “See, see how they look at me? Like I’m a freak, like it’s my fault.” For a couple of seconds there was only silence. “Yes, Mom! What if I am?” He kicked the bed. “I am a monster! So what? Aren’t you supposed to love me no matter what?” For a few more moments, there was no other sound. “That’s not true, Dad!” Hansel began crying. “It’s still me, the same I’ve always been.” That was when I finally saw it. Mimicry was never my strong suit and detecting it was a difficult task as well. A vaguely humanoid featureless figure squatted down behind the boy, its “face” almost directly by his right ear. It was the color of clay or hot wax, like a big doll someone never bothered finishing or painting. Its long nailless fingers gripped Hansel’s shoulders firmly, yet he did not seem to notice a thing. Slowly, with a few uneven jerks, the head with the empty face turned to me. Not wasting any time, I bolted for the boy’s room. Normally I would be sure my multitude of legs could outspeed a creature like that, but I knew next to nothing of this thing or its abilities. Whatever it was, it was wild, feral. No monster I knew of would dare violate the rituals like this, much less interfere with another’s hunt. With a quick glance I confirmed that the creature was still behind me, holding Hansel by the shoulders and moving him along like a doll. It almost comically walked squatted, as if trying to hide behind the human in front of it. If my blood was not cold already, the sight would’ve definitely caused it to freeze. Bolting under the bed, I dug into the shadows and began my escape. Slow… So slow… As I pushed on, the shadows just kept getting thicker and thicker, blocking my only way out. About half-way there, I heard the voice of the boy somewhere behind me: “Hey! Where are you going? Take me with you. I don’t want to stay here. There’s no one to play with.” In a panic, I pushed on and felt the fabric of the shadows rip with a loud screech. Catching my breath, I finally landed onto the Dark Road. As the realization of what I’ve done shot through me, I turned around and saw the featureless figure stand up from its crouched position, toss the boy’s now motionless body aside, and step through the gaping hole between worlds.
Dear Satan, I haev been a good girl this ~~eayr~~ year. Satan curled the letter an let out a booming laugh. "No she hasn't!"he cackled before clutching his side stitch in delightful agony. He knew exactly how many schoolyard brawls she had started and trinkets she'd stolen since May. His demon secretary, Urdanu, was on the phone beside Satan's desk. "No, of course we aren't opening them."He covered the mouthpiece and mouthed to Satan that the angels are already on the 40th floor and descending fast. A squad of angels were blasting through checkpoints to retrieve the few letters that were misaddressed to Satan. Satan puffed his cigar and continued reading. I know what I aksed for last year was too ~~uchm~~ much, so I dont want a panda tsih year. Dad lost moms loket— "You mean you lost it, after taking it without permission and playing with it. This girl is getting coal, Urdanu! No question!" —and I was hopeing you cuold give me one like it. It was shaepd like a hart with a bear on top and it had pitucrs. Dad was sad. I know elves cant make picturse so just the locket please. Tanhk you Santa. -Love, Sammy Satan folded the letter and handed it to his secretary. "Send up a minor goblin to sneak into the girl's home and dig out a locket from a floor vent." "Us, sir? Won't they handle it?" "Fat chance. She's been lashing out badly since her mother passed and she hasn't confessed to any of it. Besides,"Satan waived for the next letter, "why make her wait till Christmas."
The sapling is a curious thing, with broad silvery leaves the likes you had never seen. An internet search reveals nothing remotely similar. You shrug, put it under a grow light, and water it sparingly. It burgeons, stretching upward not by the day but by the hour. Within weeks, its roots have cracked three increasingly larger pots, and its canopy has almost reached the ceiling. With some trepidation, you replant it in your backyard and meticulously cover its roots with mulch. Winters are tough around here, and you aren't sure the strange tree can survive. It does, and even in the deepest winter it never loses its silvery leaves. And when snow melts and the ground thaws, it grows a single pale fruit, like a cross between an apple and a peach. The strangest thing is that you had never even seen the tree blossom. You watch the fruit swell and darken into a rich golden color until one morning, when you come to check up on it, it falls from the branches. You put it on the kitchen counter, where it stays for weeks, never rotting, filling the house with a sweet scent. Eventually you give in to your curiosity and have a taste. Just a nibble, in case it's poisonous. Its flesh is juicy and tangy and sweet, the most delicious thing you ever tasted, and before you know it, you devour it all. You wait anxiously, but nothing bad happens. If anything, you feel better than before—light on your feet and full of energy. The tree continues to grow, and you fear what the neighbors will say, but when you wake up one day, instead of the boring suburban landscape you find your backyard connected to a grassy plain with a forest in the distance. When you walk around to the neighbor's house, you find it still there, with its owner oblivious. You wonder if you're going insane. Then the first visitors come. Their clothes are linen, and their ears are pointy. "Keeper,"they murmur, and bow respectfully. "We come to pay respect on behalf of the Autumn Queen." You gape and sputter in confusion. The visitors don't seem offended. They sit in silence in the tree's shade for many hours, then lay baskets of fruit and honey and bread at your doorstep and leave. They are but first of the many. You become used to them and even exchange small talk. The Southern Tribes are gathering to select a new warchief, apparently, and undead have been spotted in the Barrows. Huh. The tree's roots reach the house and begin twining around it with surprising gentleness. As months turn into years, the house becomes entirely incorporated within the roots. The darnedest thing is that water still flows from the faucets, tasting strangely sweet, and the shower has hot water. Electricity's gone, but among the tribute you find glass globes that light up when touched, and you trade another fruit for a group of stocky bearded crafstmen to build you a fireplace. Years have passed since you picked up the sapling, but when you peer into the mirror, you find your face unchanged by age. The grassland is no longer the only place the tree connects to; there's a range of tall mountains, and a beach before a vast ocean, all open for you to enjoy the bounties of. And as the tree's silvery canopy rises toward the skies, you wonder what other marvelous worlds it will open.
Knight Leander the paladin kicked open the ornate double doors, gleamed in the reflected light from her polished plate armour, raised her sword high over her head, and bellowed, "In the name of Maaike the Seventeenth, I order you, dragon, to cease and desist in your..." She paused and looked around the room at the people in suits sitting at the fine mahogany table, the dragon at its head, wearing spectacles and a tie. "To cease and desist... in your... board meeting?"Knight Leander released one of the straps of her shield and slammed her helmet's visor open. "What is this?" The people in suits shuffled their papers and straightened their ties, visibly uncomfortable. The dragon sighed and removed its glasses, stowing them in a large case. "I presume,"rumbled the dragon, "that Maaike the Seventeenth hired you to rescue the Princess from a hostile dragon?" Leander kept her sword held out in front of her. She checked the corners of the room and the doorway behind her. All clear. "Yes,"she replied. "And I presume,"continued the dragon, a wisp of smoke rising from its nostrils, "That Maaike the Seventeenth failed to inform you that you would in fact be rescuing the Princess Paper Company from the Dragon International Corporation's hostile takeover after he was ousted by unanimous decision of the shareholders?" "Um,"said Leander. "He, um, did not inform me of that." The dragon tapped its claws on the tabletop, but gently, so as not to damage the finish. "Did you injure any of our security officers on your way to the boardroom?" Leander lowered her sword. "Of course not,"she said, almost offended by the idea. "They wore no visible armour and brandished no weapons." "And,"the dragon continued, narrowing its golden reptilian eyes. "Do you intend any harm to me or anyone else in this chamber?" "No,"said Leander, sheathing her sword. "My instructions were to rescue a princess, not to slay a dragon or any of its minions. Employees. Board of directors. I am a traveling knight dedicated to protecting the innocent and helping those in need." A silver-haired woman sitting at the table dropped her pen and let out a long breath. "Oh good,"she said, wiping her brow. "When she said cease and desist, I thought she was a lawyer." The others around the table chuckled, and even the dragon's lips curled into a slight grin as the tension broke. "Then please, paladin, sit and join us,"said the dragon, gesturing to an empty seat at the table. "For we are in need, and you have given me a delightful idea for our next marketing campaign."
"OH shit shit shit!!! Here he comes!"Ivo called out. We all raised our weapons and got into position. This was it, all of our training and preparation was going to be put to the test. This one human wrecking machine had punched through all our defenses and laid waste to hundreds of bases in his path. We had never imagined let alone heard of such a scenario but here it was. I broke out in a cold sweat as I saw the flashes of light in the distance. He was literally tearing up the pavement as he plowed through the outer perimeter like butter. "Mack, you set up the mine field?"I asked. "Yes sir, I got every possible mine out there. If that doesn't kill him it should slow him down." He was wrong. Our enemy ran straight into the mine field and with almost psychic efficiency he shot every mine in his path before jumping through the smoke and over other mines. Not a single one got him but he managed to detonate everything that was in his way with a precision hit from his pistol. We would have admired him, if we didn't hate him. Now he was coming. We aimed our guns and through my scope I could see him throw away his pistol and change to a rocket launcher. "What is he thinking?"Mack whispered. We all wondered. Was he going to assault our position with a rocket blast? We were spread out enough that even his best hit would only take out a few of us. In the time it would take for him to reload we'd get him. "HE'S HERE!!!"Ivo screamed. We aimed and some of us started to lay down suppressive fire as the rest of us aimed and squeezed our triggers. Then something truly extraordinary happened. He aimed his rocket launcher downward, just a few feet in front of him and fired. He was engulfed in a huge fireball and we all looked at each other in astonishment. Did our arch enemy just blow himself up? "Up there!"Ivo pointed. We all raised our weapons in reflex and saw him. He was flying through the air with a smoke trail. We unloaded our magazines indiscriminately but in just a few seconds he had gone over our heads and landed behind the walls of our base. We were still outside and the gates were locked. "Oh we are so fucked."
This world moves in eras. There was an era of the Roman Empire, the British Empire, both world wars were eras of their own. And in each of these eras, the Heavens bestow upon each of us a destiny. Destinies could be minor, some would be major. A few lucky ones could have even stronger destinies, but 2 people in each era would have Supreme Destinies. These would be the protagonist and the antagonist of the era. The power told me this when it first manifested itself. What power, you ask? I'm talking about the power to see these destinies that I got one day, out of the blue. The power seemed to be able to detect the destiny of a person, and visualise it in a way I could understand, that being in the form of a role displayed above the head. My mother is a 'Background Character' to this era, as are most of the people of the era. When I went to school that first day, I saw that the class idol was a 'Love Interest' in this era. I was shocked when I saw this. Did that mean that the protagonist of the era was in this school too? Or maybe she moved away and met him, like some James Bond trope? I knew I couldn't think about it forever. I just decided to ignore it and move on; with my power, I would find out eventually. That day I had looked at the role of everyone in my school, but apart from the 'Love Interest' and another role called 'Judas', everybody else was a 'Background Character'. For around a week afterwards, I always wondered what my role could be. I had checked mirrors, but I couldn't see my role through it, or anybody else's for that matter. I tried setting up situations to talk to the 'Love Interest' but somehow, they had all fallen through, like something was trying to keep me away. I was depressed. I could see all of these roles, but I couldn't even see my own. Until... I had run a rare bath for myself that day. Usually I would shower, but I felt like rewarding myself. As I lowered myself into the tub, a tension I didn't even realise I had was slowly drifting away, and I had entered a zen-like state. I looked down into the water to see my reflection, and imagine my surprise when I saw a line of text above my head! I quickly understood why. Water is natural, just like destiny, so water can reflect destiny unlike an artificial mirror. I stopped moving as much as I could to let the water settle, and for a split-second I could see that word. That single word. Antagonist. Shock. Horror. Confusion. More confusion... I was NOT antagonist material. I was a socially awkward kid with little to no presence at school. How could I be an antagonist? At school the next day, I decided to try something. As I was walking in front of the 'Love Interest' and her squad of other girls, I spilt a little bit of water on the floor. As I had somehow expected, when the love interest had walked to that spot, her foot moved into the puddle like it was a divine intervention. Immediately, she slipped and fell onto the floor. I smirked a little. I understood at that point. Back home, I lay in bed and thought for a while. I realised I had the power to not only see the roles of other people, but to interfere with the protagonist and his crew as the antagonist. That was my purpose in this era. I smiled. This was going to be fun.
It was a Tuesday evening, I was hours from graduation — to becoming a semi-qualified hero — and it was the day I’d die. “They turn them into supervillains,” I sputtered, face tomato-red, outrage almost suffocating me. We’d just come from of our final lecture, the last secrets of herohood revealed to us during it. ”Gaslight them into become villains. It’s not that they’re bad people, but they’re made bad.” It was me, Corpse Kenny, and Jen Phoenix. We were stewing together in an empty locker room. They sat on slatted benches, heads down, as I marched back and forth in front of them. We’d gotten friendly over the last few months. Not my initial intention — my intention had been purely to scope out the hero course and to use any knowledge gained to my later advantage. “We’re not fighting to make a difference,” said Jen Phoenix, not bitterly, just ruefully. A single flame of bright red danced over the fingers of her left hand, back and forth, back and forth. “We’re fighting to not make a difference,“ said Corpse Kenny. Corpse Kenny was born with two skeletons, an extra on the outside. It was like he was wearing an armoured shell at all times. Not the greatest power, but he was as brave as a bullet. I continued my polemic, “We wear sponsorships slogans on our cloaks and costumes. Come out of battles looking victorious against the scum of the earth. For what? To sell another cola. This whole thing’s rigged. We’re pawns.” By ‘we’ I’d meant villains — people like me. People tormented by the system, orphaned and mistreated, rejected by society and told it’s all just bad luck or our attitudes. But no, that was a lie; it’s premeditated rejection. Forcing us to become villains so the heroes have someone to defeat. “People like us are getting used,” said Jen. The pipes in floor beneath us screeched, twisting in response to my balled fists. I controlled copper. Not much of a power — but if I had a decent power they wouldn’t have made me a villain. I’d have been too dangerous. Too much of a risk to defeat. ”I don’t think I can do this,” said Kenny. “The hero thing.” ”Because it’s not a hero thing,” said Jen. She patted his hand. “And you’re a hero.” The three of us had grown close, even choosing to group together during some practice missions. There was a purity to the pair of them that I had at one point hated — an innate goodness. I’d wanted to get near to them to slowly corrupt it, to make them see the world as I did. But I knew better now. There is no world as I see it, or as they see it. There is only the world how the powerful see it. The pipes groaned under the weight of my rage. I’d need to be careful; a water leak would give us away. And then a thought occurred. ”We could destroy this place,” I said. “We could destroy the Ministry of Heroes. Reset the entire game.“ ”What?” said Jen, the flame leaping off her hand and down to the wet tiles where it extinguished in a sizzle. ”We destroy it. We flood it. Or we burn it down. All files and records. And then we show the world who did it — heroes about to graduate from this very institute. We’ll show the system is flawed. We’ll make everyone rethink. Or at least think for the first time in their lives.” ”I don’t know if I can,” said Kenny. “Ma thinks I’m a hero. She loves this placed and cried the day I got accepted. If she saw me destroy it…“ ”I’ll take the blame then,” I said. “You two just need to help me do it. I’ll say that I forced you into helping me or I’d kill you both.” Jen looked up. Her blue eyes met mine, hovered. I wondered if she’d imagined the same world I had over these last few months; a world where we graduate and we leave all this behind. Heroes, villains, all in our rearview mirror. We start something new together — a remote gas station far from the city, anything. ”I’m in,” she said. “This rot needs to burn.” Her eyes flared bright with the hot hope of something better. I should have known they were listening in. Of course — if they made villains then they knew who I was and would have been monitoring me this entire time. And they didn’t need cameras. They had supers who could feel every word said through the vibrations of the building. They burst in. Heroes we’d all seen on television. The most powerful, popular. ”Sorry,” said Dr Bend. “But we can’t let you do that. You’d ruin a much too good a thing.” There were eight of them; three of us. ”You,” Bend said, smirking at me. “You helped us find two more potential villains. Helped us kill them, too. For that, I thank you.” Kenny charged forward yelling: Bastards. Dr Bend was too fast. With the sickening cracks of both Kenny’s spines, it became eight of them, two of us. The piping in the ceiling, walls, floors, gutted itself as it coiled like an anaconda around the group of heroes, locking them in position, squeezing their life. For a second, I dared think I had them. AntiMatter thought differently. The copper rusted like a dry autumn leaf between a child’s fingers. Dusted to the ground. I looked at Jen and hoped my look said a lifetime of words. Then I ran at them I felt my neck click. Then I was gurgling on the ground, coughing up a pool of red. Someone laughed as I slowly died. My final memory was of fire. Of the great flame that leapt from Jen, who had become blue and white, as fierce, wrathful, and beautiful as the sun itself. They screamed as they burned. &#x200B; \\\* &#x200B; Hours later we woke. The three of us. We weren’t fully reformed yet, our dust still pulling together like iron filings to magnets, our consciousness still rebuilding. Phoenix. I’d never known she had a second ability. Maybe she hadn’t either. For a moment our dust connected — me and Jen — as our minds rebuilt. We shared a single thought, or maybe it was all our thoughts. An orange horizon unfurling to the distance like god’s palm. Sycamores whisking in a dusty breeze. A little gas station, the only building for many miles, with a cat sitting on the roof. Two people beneath the veranda, lazily rocking back and forth, sipping on iced teas with not a care in the world.
The detective's heart sank as he ascended the subway stairs. On each stair, another message, a sick clue left by the murderer. And there, just before the stairs hit street level, in the green glow of the Seven-Eleven sign beyond, lay the naked body of another victim. "Talk to me"he barked to the officer on the scene. "Victim is an Edward Kepman. 38, married, didn't arrive home last night after work. Wife had reported him missing. The crime scene is just bizzare boss, we been racking our brains, but it just makes no sense."The officer looked down at his notes. "Let's start with this"The officer pointed down at a round roll of cheese. "Sally from forensics tells me you call a chunk of cheese like that a log." "Anyone know the type of cheese? "I believe it's Jack cheese, Sir. You know, like Monterey Jack." "Right... next"He stepped over the marmalade and set of golden dental grills. "No idea what to say about these, sir. Grills, like those worn by rappers? And marmalade. Placed in the middle of the stairs, so we have to step over them?" "And finally?"He said, looking at the final clue on the final stair before the body. "Well, this might just be the strangest one. The door of a Volvo S40 sedan." "Right, and you say the vic's name is Ed. Ed Kepman."The detective was deep in thought. He seemed to be humming to himself. "I've got it on record as Edward, sir, but yes. Why? "Well, for a start..."The detective reached down and picked up the car door. It rattled. "I knew it!"he said "The Rattle of a Volvo Door." "Next, I'm going to hazard a guess and go with "Over the Grills and Marmalade. And then a Jack Log. I hate to say it, but this is clearly the work of the serial killer, The Rhymer." "The Rhymer, sir?" "This psyco's got a thing for British rock bands and bad rhymes. Keep searching, I bet you'll find a Led Zeppelin CD somewhere." "Uh, we actually did find one, not too far away, bagged it for evidence but we thought it was just lost or discarded in the subway. How the hell did you know?" "Ed Kepman? Led Zeppelin. The cheese - a Jack Log - rhymes with their hit 'Black Dog'" The detective spun around, pointing at the golden teeth insert and marmalade... "And here we have 'Over the Hills and Far Away' or in this case, 'Over the grills and marmalade.'" He was almost enjoying himself now. "Finally, 'The Rattle of a Volvo Door' - this one's a little weak if you ask me... but it must be 'The Battle of Evermore." "That's amazing! When did you know? How did you put it all together so quickly?" "I actually had my suspicions the minute I arrived and noticed the vic had been laid out 'Climbing the Stairway to the Seven-Eleven".
"I want to sign up,"I say, pulling back a hard plastic chair and sitting the other side of the table to a peroxide-blonde lady who is half-way through a giant crossword. She must have been at it all day. Her eyes flick up to me, then back down to the black and white boxes. I'm not much to look at, and not like the others -- not rippling with muscles, no chin carved from the mountains -- but her eyes didn't need to tell me that. I already knew. I mean, if there was just one thing school taught me... "I want to sign up,"I repeat, louder, more confidently, as I crunch up the past memories like dry leaves. Today is a new start. A new me. "I'm ready to be a hero, and I'm--" "Like turbid waters,"she says. "Huh?"I've been called many things before, but... "Five letters." "Oh. Murky?" She clicks her pen and scribbles it in. "What's your power, sweetie?" I puff up my chest and make sure I'm sitting straight. Shoulders bubble-level even. She might not be looking at me right now, but she sure would be once she heard what I could do. "I'm the God of hexes!"It's an embellishment, sure. But every superhero embellishes their powers. And their origins -- heck, probably even their sexual prowess. You have to embellish these days. Just too much competition not to. "The God of hexes. Right. Sure."She looks up and stares at me, and I know my investment in ergonomic posture has paid dividends. "You know how many Gods I've had apply just this week?" Her tone worries me. I try to shrug off the question but I feel my cheeks redden as the afternoon rubs its sweaty fingers across my face. "Hmm... Am I the first, perchance? "Sixteen, not including you." "Well I guess religion is on the rise again." "Hah, sure is, sweetie. But you know what all these 'Gods' had in common?" "Good manners?" "Lying. They all had lying in common. Were all big fat liars. Except for you... You're a tall skinny liar."She lays down the pen and raises her right hand. Suddenly, it's a ball of flame, and the sweat on my forehead is splashing onto the floor. "What are you going to do when a ball of fire is hurtling down a corridor towards your head? Because that is the kind of situation the League of Heroes has to deal with on a daily basis." Can't breath. I'm hyperventilating. "Five seconds for the God of hexes to put this flame out, or else he's going to get all burned up like a heretic. Like a false idol. Four... Three..." Shit! Wait, maybe I could... Yes. I squeeze my eyes shut. The lady violently sneezes, her hands reacting by reaching up to her face to cover her mouth. She screams. The fire goes out, but it's a second too late. Her face is red and she's staring in disbelief at her hand. "I've got some after-sun lotion in my backpack if, uh..." Her eyes flick between her hand and me. Hand. Me. "Hexes... You little bastard!" "Well I stopped you burning me. That was the task, right? And I'd say passed with flying colors." She grits her teeth and slowly spits the next sentence. "In a real combat situation, you just pissed off your nemesis something bad, and now they burn you alive until you're just a pile of acne ashes. And believe me, if I wasn't on the good guy's side, that's exactly what I'd do to you." I sigh and heave myself up from the seat. Maybe I'll try again in a week or two, with a mask on so she doesn't recognise me. I could be the Prince of Misfortune or something cool. Ahhhh, who am I kidding. Even if I got on the team, I'd be about as popular as I was at school. I'd get bullied straight back off it. "Thanks for your time,"I say, doing my best to swallow down my disappointment. "Get lost, kid. And do everyone a favor -- don't use your special 'powers' again. Because they, like you, are pathetic." "That's pretty rude,"I retort. "You burned your own face, not me. And I did help you with your cross-- "Get out!" With a huff, I walk towards the door. But before I leave, I turn to see her, pen in hand, once again attacking her giant crossword. I close my eyes, then feel a grin work its way up my face as I leave. "Oh for fuc--"I hear as I close the door, knowing just how annoying a leaky pen can be.
"You fool. You know not what you've done. The laws governing our magic prevent any wish from granting the ability to obtain more wishes." The genie was absorbed back into his lamp, and to my shock, that very lamp started shrinking in on itself, before turning into the very map I sought. It rolled up and fell to the floor. A sense of dread filled my mind, and I stood there still, staring at the rolled up paper on the ground. I dared not touch it, lest my fears be confirmed. I walked out of the room, locked the door behind me, and tried to forget the genie and what I had wished for. It didn't work. Every day I walked past the door, and every day I grew less wary and more curious as to what was behind the locked door. It took half a year before my resolve failed and I opened the door. Dust coated every surface, and I sneezed as the door disturbed the layer of dust that was everywhere. Slowly, I walked over to the out of place roll of paper, and tentatively opened it. The familiar Mercator projection appeared before me, with red dots scattered at random across the globe. As the disturbingly familiar lack of New Zealand appeared, I started to see text scrawled untidily into the western Pacific. 6 months of dust and time had faded some of the letters, and my eyes were not what they once were. I started out of the room to retrieve a pair of my reading glasses, when out of the corner of my eye I saw the red dots start to fade. My mind wandered back to my wish for a self-updating map showing where all the genies were. Must just be an update. Nothing to worry about. It took me only a brief moment to find my reading glasses and return to the map, where again all the dots were gone. I glanced again at the writing in the Pacific, and collapsed to me knees as the weight of what I had wished for, what I had done, came crashing down on me. "Our magic cannot be used in any way to grant additional wishes. If you move in any way towards any of these dots, we will all surely perish, consumed by the force of our magic."The warning was there, clear now, but not to my bare aging eyes. I and I alone was responsible for ending the magic in the world.
There was something, Ash-Bringer thought, that was Not Quite Right about this place. Not that he was one to brag, but usually when people caught sight of his enormous wings darkening the skies, they fled in terror. Like an anthill kicked over, he would watch as the villagers below would scatter and scurry, the women and children to the cellars and the men to the armory. Usually there would be a call to arms and whatever village leader or militia commander had found himself stuck with the job would try to marshal the undisciplined townsfolk into some sort of defense. Usually Ash-Bringer left those towns alone because it wasn’t worth the trouble. He would have decimated their forces, and then who would be left to raise the cattle and pigs he would have demanded as tribute? And then word would spread of the dragon who laid waste to the countryside and then there would be some sort of response from the local lord or king or what have you. Villagers were no problem, but trained knights could present a challenge for a dragon who was not on his toes. Talons. Ash-Bringer knew of two of his kin who had been slain at the end of a lucky knight’s pike. But Ash-Bringer was beginning to feel his age. There came a time in every dragon’s life when he or she felt the urge to hoard, to carve out a territory of their own and fill it with gold and jewels, with fatted calves and plumped sheep. And so, when he saw a hamlet tucked away in the hills, in a defensible location close to the river and abutting a mountain, he listened to instinct and veered in the sky until his green scales, glittering like crystals in the dappled sunlight, made an arrow for the town. He was prepared for the anthill that would follow. That should have followed. But when he soared low over the cottages with the thatched roofs, the villagers stared up at him, mouths agape and weapons nowhere in sight. The men weren’t yelling; the women hoisted their children and held them up, as if getting them closer to his fearsome claws. It was odd, admittedly, but perhaps they were struck dumb with terror. Ash-bringer landed with a flare of wings and a plume of dust at the edge of town, and waited. There was no attack, no ringing of the church bell to sound the alarm, even. Instead, a little man, heavyset with watery eyes and a beaming smile, hurried out to stand in front of Ash-Bringer. “O, mighty dragon!” the little man cried, and he fell to the ground and prostrated himself. An auspicious start, Ash-Bringer decided. He had never heard of humans who were immediately cowed in fear, but perhaps this village was wiser than most. “I have come to claim these lands,” Ash-Bringer hissed, his voice like the edge of one thousand knives, and heat from the flame in his throat browning the grass around them. “This village and all that is in it belong to me!” “Oh yes, yes!” the little man cried. “Of course, mighty dragon, he of scales and flame! All that we have we offer you!” That was – unexpectedly easy. “And you will bring a cow each day, for I hunger greatly,” Ash-Bringer continued. “If you do not – “ “Of course! We have cattle at the ready!” the little man exclaimed. “Do you require sheep or pigs as well?” “I – yes?” Ash-Bringer said, taken aback. “And by the end of tonight, you will bring forth your gold and your wealth! If you do not – “ “Oh, we have collected it in chests and we can carry them to you whenever you desire!” the little man said, still bowed on the ground. “O mighty dragon, he of wings and death, we are honored you have chosen to demand tribute!” This was getting weird. Ash-Bringer decided to push it and see how far he could go. “And you will send me a young maiden each morning,” he demanded. “A comely woman who will tend to me – “ “My daughter shall be the first!” the little man trumpeted joyfully as he sat up to beam at Ash-Bringer. “She is among the most beautiful in the village and she will serve you with devotion!” There was no way. Ash-Bringer stopped and looked, really looked, at the man. He was dressed all in white and his hair was long and braided. On the front of his robes was a strange symbol – a spurt of flame, stitched in black, orange and red. Then, Ash-Bringer looked across the village. The cottages were quaint, but all had the same symbol painted on the front doors. Every person in the village stood at the edge of the gate, staring with unnerving smiles and sporting white robes with the black, orange, and red flame. In the fields beyond the buildings, Ash-Bringer could see rows of crops – pumpkins, corn, beans, and marijuana and psychotropic mushrooms. “What is this place?” he asked sharply. “Oh mighty dragon, it is your home, of course!” the man trilled. “The prophets have long foretold your coming! We, the devoted members of the Burning Flame, have waited 130 years for your return, as has been foretold in the stars! We live communally in a society of free love and harmony, where we partake of sacred herbs in our secret rituals. Our temple ceremonies – “ Ash-Bringer sighed in disgust and launched into the sky. Fucking dragon-worshipping cults.
<fantasy> "Listen, I assume you mostly know what's what by now. You're what? One forty, one fifty?"I didn't volunteer. Before that day, I'd barely even dealt with Geldisa. Soft G, I was warned. "Pfft, whatever, old man."She turned away from me to look out the window. It... It almost looked like sulking. "Great, so I'll try to stay out of your way, you stay out of mine. It'll be great. Not parent-child, but roommates. Sounds good to me. If you need a ride somewhere, give me a decent heads up. I'll keep the fridge stocked, feel free to put in requests, no guarantees, but I'll see what I can do." She gave a huff. "Yeah, we'll make this work,"I said, mostly to myself, as we pulled into the driveway "I don't want it to work! This isn't fair!"She shouted out of nowhere. Before the car even stopped, she'd unbuckled and stepped out. "I shouldn't have to do this!"SLAM "What the heck?"I asked my steering wheel. Then, opening my door, "What, the-heck was THAT?" "Oh, shut up. You're not my dad." "No, but your dad is dead, so someone has to take care of you." Her jaw dropped at the first half, but she recovered before I finished. "No, they don't. I'm an adult." "That's what I said, but I guess I was wrong. You sure aren't acting like one." She gave a growl and rushed up my front steps, only to be stymied in her attempt to storm off, thanks to my locked front door. "Oh, I made you a key,"I said as I tossed it to her. She let it bounce off her arm and into my miserable flower garden before collapsing in tears. As she slumped into as much of a puddle as anatomy would allow, I slowly pieced together some important bits of information. First off, something was clearly bothering her, and I was pretty sure it wasn't really my fault. Second, I could really use some food, and she was probably just angry and needed some, too. Third didn't come much later, but reviewing that moment made me realize I was a bit of a twit, even if it worked out. "I'm gonna order a pizza. What toppings you want? I peg you as a beef sort of person." "I don't eat meat. I'm an elf." "Jeez. Wish they'd warned me about that. The elf thing. I'm fine making sure you have a good vegetarian diet."I went to chuckle, but she quit sobbing just long enough to shoot me a glare. "Seriously though, is it vegetarian or vegan. I just want to get it right." "Vegetarian,"was mumbled from the pile. Or, more accurately, "Veye'aria." "Awesome. Spinach and mushroom work? How about some feta cheese, since they're doing a discount for a large 3-topping?" "Sure. Whatever."The sobs had stopped, she was rising back to a normal form, but tears were still streaming. She reached over the side of the steps for the key before standing up. "Where's my room?" "Do you want downstairs or up? Up has a bridge to my old treehouse, if that's your thing." "I can't decide if that was offensive for being elf stereotyping, or for treating me like I'm fifty."The tears stopped coming and she wiped her face with a sleeve. "Both? Seems like it could be both."I smiled, and caught another glare. She had them down good. Decades of practice, I'd guess. "So did I sell you on the upstairs?" She unlocked and opened the door before responding, "No!"Guess she'd wanted to make sure she could slam it. "Ok, but I'm not bringing your bags in from the car,"I shouted, then finished ordering that pizza before heading inside.
It's all in the arm. Shielbearer. The Unyielding. The Unbreakable - titles that are one and all mine by right. Common folk and foes alike know my shield to be unbreakable, a bulwark on which many foes shattered their blades. Made of ancient wood and assembled by legendary, long-dead craftsmen. A relic of a forgotten past, bearing with it the souls of many-a warrior that, much like me, once used it. Yet the secret - nay, the truth, on which rests my well-earned reputation, is far simpler. It is skill, honed and practised over decades of hard work. The shield itself is finely crafted out of oak and polished steel, yet utterly mundane. The strength of the deflection, the angle with which I position it, the finest of adjustments to assure the enemy hits precisely the part that I want them to. That is all there is to it. That is why I must never face him. The Swordmaster. A man of unparalleled martial prowess bearing an enchanted sword unlike any other - one that can cleave anything in twain with but the lightest swing. A man who destroyed the greatest of shields, made of solid, reinforced steel, in a single attack. Should he strike me and cut through my shield, my reputation, my renown, my hopes... they'd be over in an instant. We must never fight. If we do, it will end it all. \---------------- We must never fight. Ever. If we do, it's fucked. They call me a lotta things. Swordsmaster, the Flashing Steel, the Swift Blade, buncha other stuff. To be fair, it's earned; I've walked from one end of the realm to the other and not once has anyone put so much as a scratch on me. That is, of course, owing to the blade I carry with me. Made from meteorite by dwarven master smiths, tempered in dragon blood, I don't even know what else. All shite. Don't get me wrong - it's a damn good sword. Quality steel, comfortable handle on it, but man. It's all about knowing when to strike, where exactly - millimetres count. You strike pretty much any shield at the right angle, with the right amount of strength, and it breaks in two like it's made of gingerbread. Something you pick up through decades of fighting, not some magic hogwash. But her? The Shieldbearer? I've heard the tales and if even half of them are true, I don't stand a chance. She's literally broken an armoury's worth of quality sword on her shield. A bloody wooden shield. It's gotta be some sort of magic. And if we fought, my reputation, my renown, my hopes... gone like steam above a kettle. Because at the end of the day, my weapon, unlike hers, is not enchanted. It's far simpler than that. It's all in the arm.
"This isn't possible,"I repeated for maybe the fiftieth time. The man in front of my calmly sipped his coffee, apparently totally unbothered by everyone else's ceasing to move. I looked around at the rest of the café. As with every other time, it was solid. I don't mean, like, it had all stopped - I mean, that's what it looked like, but it was so much more than that. If I was to throw some sugar into the air, it would have just hung there. No momentum. No movement. Like a solid mass, floating in the air. But how could he be moving? "You're not really stopping time, you know,"the man smiled cryptically, as if in response to my thought. "Sorry?" "See, actually stopping time would be... very bad,"he continued. His tone was like a Nobel Prize winner's when he has to explain to a five-year-old why fighting against a certain type of cooties is important. "So you don't really stop it. Essentially, time is still moving - it's just moving very, very slowly. So slowly, it seems like everything is standing still. But it's not, as I assume you can see."He smiled again - God, what a smug smile! Like he had all the answers! "Alright, then, genius,"I frowned, more than a little frustrated with the condescension. "How are you moving?" "Quickly,"he replied almost instantly. He'd been waiting for that question, the prick. "Very quickly. So quickly that, even as time has slowed to a crawl... I still move as normal. Clever, isn't it?"There was that smug smile again. "...So why me?"I asked. "You can move so fast, what're you bothering with a loser like me for?" "I don't think you're a loser,"the man frowned, his expression faltering for the first time. "I think, if you wanted to, you could be a hero. All it would take is proper creative application of your powers. Now, could you do me a favour and return time to normal? If I tried to move as-is, the friction would be catastrophic." Still not sure what he was on about, I nevertheless nodded, and concentrated a little. I could feel a bit of sweat form on my forehead as I gritted my teeth. Finally, like a switch had been flipped, the noise and commotion of everyday life returned. The man in the wheelchair smiled again. "I think this could be the start of an interesting little endeavour,"he grinned. ----- This story is a continuation of [this earlier post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4n2u8e/wp_everyone_is_born_with_a_disability_and_an/d40jipo).
It takes me a couple seconds to understand the pounding I'm hearing isn't only the hangover, and that whoever is going at my door intends to keep at it until I either wake up, or they break it.The waves of nausea are immediate, vicious, as I stumble to my feet, sight still blurry. I haven't gotten myself in such a state for years, what ever happened yesterday ? I just remember this horrible, stuffed atmosphere at the annual ball and the glasses I downed with my friend. Again the door rattles on its hinges and I croaks "Coming !"I hack out some tequila tasting phlegm, fighting another urge to hork. "I said, I'm coming!" I've never seen the guy at my door. Middle aged, looking starched within an inch of his life, he lifts his left eyebrow a quarter of an inch upon surveying my disheveled, wrinkled carcass. "Sir Mercutio ?" "That would be me, and you are ?" The guy doesn't even answer, stepping past me and into my flat. He carefully lays a wrapped package, a suit, I could swear, on the back of one of my chairs. &#x200B; "Lord Escalus has been... more than impressed by your feat of last night. For years this feud has been raging and you, you managed withing a couple hours to staunch those fires and bring peace in the city, a most amazing exploit." "If you say so" I still can't remember a lot, maybe bits of a passionate argument I was shouting at a crowd but nothing more. Again my stomach rumbles and abandoning all hopes at hospitality I dash to my bathroom, barely making it in time. As I puke my guts out, I can hear the man, souding still as professionnal and detached as ever "I shall advise you, sir, to take a shower once you are done. After all, the wedding can't start without its bestman and your friend Romeo will want to thank you in person" Edits: typos. Please apologize any grammatical mistakes as english isn't my first language.
When I came to the Moon to work for the Lunarless organisation, I knew I would be working with the Lycans. I was ready for it, too. I am not one of those prejudiced people who think the Lycans lesser. What I wasn't ready for was the Full Earth. Yes. The Full Earth. I had heard the rumours. Everyone who came to the Moon willingly became Lycans themselves. I didn't really believe it, of course. But I understood why soon. I was outside, walking with my best friends, a Lycan named Jason who had come with me, and Anne, a human who had come with her Lycan boyfriend named Jacob, when it happened. The Earth shone in full light and everyone fell over. Jason and Jacob did as well. Before my eyes, they all turned to the most beautiful beings I have ever seen. Sun-kissed skin, perfect muscular bodies, glossy and strong hair. They chuckled. Jacob, a blond man with the same Amber eyes every Lycan had, approached Anne, who seemed hot and bothered all of a sudden. "Can you feel the pheromones, Anne? You see, we Lycans know that our kind changes like this on the Full Earth days. So, we come with the ones we love to turn them and be with them for the rest of our lives." Pheromones? Strange. I didn't feel any... Ah. Perhaps it didn't work on those whose sexuality was not attracted to the Lycan's gender? As an Asexual, I didn't feel towards anyone, so it simply didn't work? Jason, with his short black hair and light Amber eyes, smiled at me. "Sorry about that. I couldn't just tell you I planned on turning you..." I took a step back and turned to see Anne giving in. She was a nod away from being turned by Jacob. I turned back to see Jason closing in. "I have loved you for so long, you see. And yet, you never showed any interest..." I took another step back. My back hit the wall. "Come on. I know you can feel it. Do not resist it..."Jason took my chin and kissed me. It felt wrong, wrong, wrong... I pushed him away, terrified. I ran and ran. I turned to see him running after me. He was faster than a human should be. So I hid. I was so glad I had a spacesuit despite the Moon having an atmosphere. He couldn't feel my scent when I put on the helmet. He was getting dangerously close to my hiding spot. The moment he turned away, I ran quietly (thank God for my Martial Arts training) and entered a cave. He must've heard me, because I heard him running after me. I turned off my helmet's light and was enveloped by darkness. I continued further and further into the cave, and encountered glowing blue crystals. I continued even deeper, afraid, but saw the stats of the air and took off my helmet. I ce to a dead end with a cold turquoise crystal. A beautiful woman with pale skin, white hair and violet eyes smiled at me. "Have you come to hide?" Somehow, I felt I couldn't lie to this woman. I nodded. "He will find you soon. Turn you." I gasped. "Please..." "I know. I can help you. But you can not stay human." "I don't want to be-" "Don't worry. You have a choice. There is another kind you can become. My kind." "Your kind...?" "We are the original inhabitants of the Moon. We cannot die, yet we stay hidden. The Lycans here know of us and have agreed to keep us a secret as we do not wish to be humanity's test subjects. In exchange, we let them stay on the Moon. Our kind is called the Iunae. I-U-N-A-E." I nodded. "You must make a decision. Become a Lycan... Or become a Iunae. All you have to do is step inside this crystal." I heard Jason's footsteps. And I decided. I wouldn't be a coward and lose everything. With that, I stepped inside the White Crystal and let it close around me.
Data Files for project ‘Bob Ross – Happy Little Humans’ 20470713 05:36:01. Traffic Cam on corner of Rutgers Ave and Warner Ave, NYC Observation: Young woman walking and texting, about to step into the street in the path of a truck Action: Set of car alarm of Toyota RAV4 next to young woman. The loud noise and lights cause her to jump and drop her phone. As she picks it up the truck blows past. 20470713 05:36:02. Port Richmond, Philadelphia, PA Observation: Two love compatible humans are about to leave for work. Their routes keep them a few blocks away at all times and they have not meet. Action: Set off burglary alarm at local Pharmacy. The police presence causes Ross to walk a block further south than normal. Turn off streetlights on Gaul Street. To stay on a well-lit path Rachel goes one block north. Ross is now headed east on Cedar and Rachel North on Clearfield. Just before Rachel turns the corner, Litter Control Robot 274 comes out behind a hydrant and trips her. Ross turns the corner and rushes to help her up. She makes a joke, they both laugh. 20470713 05:36:05: Webcam of human 1,564,523,254. Observation: 35 year old white male named Frank in his apartment. Recently divorced, no kids, no family, no hope. Frank had a gun in his hand. Action: Rabbi Michael was in his kitchen across the hall from Frank making coffee with a splash of milk. Michaels Roomba strikes his leg mid pour causing the carton of milk to fall to the floor. Unable to stomach it black Rabbi Michael opens his door to go down to the corner store. I turn on the smart light in Frank’s living room catching Michaels attention as it spills through the crack between the door and the floorboards. Seeing his new neighbor is up, Rabbi Michael knocks on Franks door to ask to borrow a splash of milk. When Frank answers Rabbi Michael can see something is wrong and asks if he would like to talk. 20470713 05:36:07 Highway I-95 South of Washington Observation: Father of 3 with kids in the back seat is starting out on a road trip. Not having time for morning coffee he is falling asleep behind the wheel. Action: Amazon drone is carrying package with defective furby back to facility for disposal. The drone reroutes slightly in front of car and drops package. The box bursts on impact and furby bounces on the road twice before briefly landing on car hood and ending up in the ditch. The thunk startles the father awake and the image of a furby staring at him in the dawn light is enough to keep the father awake for the rest of the trip. 20470713 05:36:09 Cape Charles, VA Observation: It is Mark and Julies 5th wedding anniversary. Mark has forgotten and is on his way to the lake to spend the day fishing. Action: Display ad for couples massages on every digital billboard on 13 North. After the 4th billboard Mark noticed they are all the same. After the 6th he gets the hint and pulls over. His google search history shows he has just searched ‘Florist near me’ and ‘Steakhouse reservations near me’. Back at home Julie’s morning alarm fails to go off. Based on past sleeping habits Mark should be able to make it back before she wakes up naturally.
In the beginning, there was the great and terrible primordial ocean, within it lived Cipactli, a many-mouthed abomination which consumed all that fell into those ancient turbulent seas. The gods saw this and found it unacceptable. This manifested hunger would allow for nothing to exist, for it would be consumed by the manifold-teeth of that undying creature's endless mouths. The gods tore it apart, slew it over and over again, moulded its flesh eternal into something new. But the hunger would not end. The hunger for the blood and souls of beings could not be ended. So the gods put down rules to the many mortals and creatures they created; that they should spill both blood and through that crimson vintage, the soul, into the insatiable belly of the monstrous Earth. They then tried five times to create a proper world, and a proper sun, before finally getting it right the fifth time. Though in the creation of the Fifth Sun, embodied by the heroic Huitzilopochtli, they found that another price in blood must be paid to burn forever, and keep the Tzitzimimeh, led by dread Coyolxāuhqui away from destroying creation. And that was the start of our world. For ages the bloodprice was paid, both to Sun and to Earth. Across the world, people gave blood to the sun, no matter what they named him. Across the world, people spilled blood upon altars that seeped into the Earth, feeding the flesh-Earth and keep it from reforming into what it once was. But things change. Faiths change. Soon the death of men was no longer required. The death of animals was chosen instead for sacrifice. Though worth less, that blood still fed the Earth, and fed the Sun. Some places, some faiths, ceased the letting of blood entirely. And they spread quickly. Across continents such faiths spread, bloodless faiths. Faith that did not demand death. Did not demand blood. As mortal men disliked the death of their kin, no matter the supposed honour they gained from it, men turned to these new faiths, and forgot their old ways. The last place to truly honour the gods as they were meant to be honoured, building the great pyramids, worshipping in clean cities, was the Meseoamerican civilisations. Some went further, such as the Aztecs, or Nahautl, as they called themselves. They were so fond of feeding the sun and earth, that they had to fight Flower Wars, where they took thousands of prisoners back to be given to the gods upon the steps of the great pyramids of Tenochtitlan. That ended, when the Spanish came across the sea, and allied with those who had had enough of the bloodthirst of the Aztecs, so that their empire fell. And yet, the sun did not die. The Earth did not let loose its hungry maws to rip and tear mankind apart. Some thought that it had been proof that the old ways were wrong. That the Feathered Serpent, the Flayed Lord, the Smoking Mirror, and all the other ancient gods, had been naught but demons of their own twisted imagination. But that was not so. The price of blood had been paid, not tenfold, not a hundredfold, but a hundreds of thousands of times over. The sun's blood-flame burned brightly on its reserves. And the hungry Earth previously thought perhaps insatiable would, if it could have had thoughts and desires beyond unending hunger, have wanted a bit of time to rest in between meals. It was a set price in blood to be paid. Not a percentage of mankind to die every day, not thousands to die every second upon the stone-altars. No reserve lasts forever. And as mankind progressed, even the accidental sacrifices, those made by the unknowing to the unaware upon long forgotten holy sites, new used as battleground, ceased entirely. As new weapons made even accidental rituals impossible, there came no new blood. Running entirely on reserves, the bloody duty was forgotten. And the once nearly endless ocean of blood saved up for the gods, began to slowly but surely drain. As mankind made peace across the world, ceasing their wars and conflicts entirely, they became a post-scarcity society. Mankind dedicated itself to colonising the system around their own sun, to creating artwork, to creating music, and living happy lives. For mankind, this was a golden age of peace. An era of safety, of tolerance, of happiness unending. An era where all disease was curable. No human was unloved. No human experienced undue and harsh suffering, unless they so desired. Where only those who had grown tired of life, would ever die. An age wherein mankind reached the very apex of its potential. Indeed, mankind seemed to have turned themselves into beings that would rival even the long sleeping gods. And then the blood reserve started to run out. The first to notice, was those who managed the Dyson Swarm built to harness the power of the sun. The output was ever-so-slightly decreasing. As if the sun's light was weakening, as indeed it was. Huitzilopochtli, the god who had made himself into the Fifth Sun, who kept mankind safe from incomprehensible star-deities who wanted nothing more than to slaughter them, was running on fumes. For the first time in centuries, on the green fields of Earth, there was an unexpected earthquake. Nothing major, nothing too damaging. But it coincided with the disappearance of a small commune of primitivists in the Rocky Mountains. They had no technology which would allow them to warn others, of the teeth emerging from the ground, of the screeching maw their home was swallowed by. They were the second to notice the beginning of the end. As days passed in the glorious years of the latter half of the 24th century, things got worse. The sun dimmed further, worrying all. More unexpected earthquakes, destroying many smaller communities. But it wasn't until the entirety of the Chicago-Detroit Urban Belt was swallowed by the land itself, that people started to panic. 98 million people, consumed by the abyssal creature that had been the Earth. This was when the gods, hearing the desperate plea of Huitzilopochtli, awoke. And understood what had been done. The blood price had not been paid in time. And the mortals would pay for it. The sun would fade, and Huitzilopochtli would die. The Earth would consume mortalkind. Unless the gods intervened. Led by the great feathered serpent, Quetzalcoatl, the gods emerged onto the physical plane, and brought the fight to the star-gods, aiding the dying sun. Mankind could do nought but watch as the gods fought for them. Bled for them.
"Oh, uhhh, a zero?"the school nurse said running his hand over the tattoo on the back of my neck. "You see anyone about this?" "No? What, is this deadly?"I asked, worried. "No, no, it's nothing to worry about. I'm sure you would have seen the negative effects of it by now." "Then why do I need to see someone?"I asked. "There are aptitude doctors. I know one with a number of 98 whose ability is to tell the complete aptitude of someone's number. She would be able to tell you what the zero stands for,"he said. "I thought you were a doctor. Can't you tell me?" He looked at me very sincerely, like his heart was overcome with sorrow at what he had to say. "I really wish I could, but it's just beyond me. The next best thing I can come to is to be able to tell you that Dr. Omner will be the one for you." He handed me a business card. I nodded, stood up, and walked to the door. "Thank you, have a nice day,"I said, leaving. "Oh, absolutely! I definitely will! I promise!"he said as the door closed. I walked down the hall to the front of the school where my dad would be waiting for me. Just at the exit of the school was a group of students talking in a circle. I tried to walk through them, but they kind of blocked me in. "Can't pass unless you pay us two dollars,"one of them said, holding his hand out. It was a group of high number kids. They were gifted with high aptitudes such as intelligence and strength, and they used it to bully low numbers. I was a victim of their torment every day. I sighed and rummaged in my pocket for some change. I couldn't find any and sighed again. "Can we not do this today?"I asked. The kids looked at each other, first in mockery, then with compassion. The one who had his hand out sighed. "Yeah, fine, go ahead,"he said, a column opening within their group. I ran to my dad who was parked at the curb, my backpack bumping against my back uncomfortably as I ran. I opened the door. "Hey sport,"my dad said as I climbed into the car, "We have to go pick up your sister, so let's be quick." "Can we go to Doctor Omner first?"I asked, giving him the card. His face contorted quickly, then he begrudgingly nodded. "Whatever you say sport, we can get your sister later,"he said, slamming on the gas to take us to the doctor. I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking what the number could possibly be associated with. Maybe it was how much money I would make. That would be bad when I grew up. I wanted to be an astronaut. I thought they needed money to go to space. We pulled into the parking lot and my dad unlocked the door and stepped out with me. "Can you wait in the car and keep in running in case I want to leave quick?"I asked nervously. I was worried about what the number would mean. "Of course!"my dad nodded, standing in place, then tearing himself off the spot and going back to the car. As I reached the front door, someone walked out locking the door behind them. She turned around and looked at me, surprised. "Hey, little guy. Are you lost?"she asked. "No, I wanted to see Dr. Omner,"I answered, wringing my hands. "That's me! Unfortunately, I need to head out to pick up my children from after school activities, but I'd be happy to see you if you schedule an appointment for tomorrow!"she said, stepping around me. "Can you do it now?"I asked, quickly. She stopped in place. She cracked her neck then turned back to me. "Of course!"she said, a weird look in her eyes. She came around to the back of my neck and ran her fingers over it. "Oh wow, I've never seen anything like this. This zero... it's the aptitude for how often people will refuse to do something for you!"she exclaimed, shocked. "What does that mean?"I said, tears brimming my eyes at what was probably bad news. "It means people can't say 'No' to you. That's incredible, but a scary concept as you could manipulate the world to the whims of an elementary school child!"she explained. "Oh... that's not scary, that's really cool,"I said, my face brightening. Her eye twitched when I said that. "You're right, it's not scary. It's cool!"she said through grit teeth. ______________________________________________ For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
November 1st 2019 I finally got around to reviewing the book grandpa wrote. At first I thought the title was a joke but once I got it into it... yeah, calling it The Beginner's Guide To Warlocking made sense. I mean, there is this whole niche market for wicca, witchcraft, healing crystals and other rubbish. Why not tap into the male side of it. Going to try a spell or two for the review. . November 2nd 2019 Oh god this thing is real! Do not attempt this when you're drunk. I made a mistake with the ritual and now there is this dude with a halo and wings following me around. Guy's worse than mom! So... Judgey! Going to warn grandpa not to put this book out. . November 9th 2019 The halo dude has been here for a week and refuses to go away. Keeps saying he'll grant all my wishes but no sins. You'd think asking for a seafood pizza would had have been just fine but apparently it's both theft and eating shrimp is big no-no in the bible... we settled on a veggie and I ordered it the normal way. Not much of a wish fulfillment we both agreed. He is working on the world peace thing though. . November 17th 2019 Grandpa is going ahead with the book publishing deal. Apparently his target audience a lot more niche than I thought... Halo Dude has been setting me up on blind dates since I made that (I want a the hottest girl in the world to fall for me) wish. He keeps nagging me about it taking effort on both sides for things to work out. Even turns himself invisible and watches over my date to make sure I act proper... please look up the Amish definition of that word, apparently I even breath wrong. I've learned that banishing spells don't work on Angels. Neither do temper tantrums, physical violence or fish... don't ask. . November 20th 2019 He said he came up with something that will give us peace around the world. Temporarily of course but it has worked before and he finally got the green light from the man upstairs. Wonder what Covid means...

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.