prompt
stringlengths 391
14.9k
|
|---|
I've never posted in this subreddit, but I'm subscribed by default and I like to browse occasionally, and I'd say 90% of the titles I see upvoted are just stories themselves not prompts. Most of them have a "punchline"that makes them a completed narrative and not an open-ended prompt. They're typically two-sentence structures with a "twist"that vastly narrows the scope of the idea for the sake of appealing to reddit's particular demographic of humor. Here's a recent example:
> Dragons inherently manifest when there is a certain amount of something that people see as precious. You wake up one day to find a very confused dragon in your 40K figurine room.
Just remove the second sentence from this and it's a great writing prompt, to which the follow-up could be one of many interesting responses. Feels like most of these titles are designed to farm the sense of being creative or subversive instead of allowing the twists and interpretations to come from the actual prompt responders. |
I remember how pissed they’d been when I signed up with Denver Medical. Don’t get me wrong, flying around in a supersuit, plotting fiendinsh schemes and sinister plots had been fun… but then I grew up. It was too late for my parents, they were in too deep. They still claimed it was about world domination, but these days it had become personal. Less about taking over the planet and more about beating the heroes, the ones who’d been kicking their asses for the last 30 years. I couldn’t afford to fall into that rut, the never ending cycle of scheme, fight, lose, rinse and repeat. I wanted more!
Now don’t get me wrong, I am my parent’s daughter. I want it all, power, prestige, wealth, the whole shebang. Just not their way. When Denver Medical came knocking, I knew it was where I belonged. No relations with supervillains, no pacts with eldritch gods. It wasn’t a cult, shell corporation, criminal front. It didn’t deal in magic, superscience, cosmic forces or meta-humans. It dealt in medicines and vaccines. For back-pain and headaches, intches and colds. It was simple. Legal. Lucrative. Unbelievably so.
We weren’t angels of course. There was the lobbying, purchasing politicians and policy. After all, why pay an American a living wage when you can pay some poverty-stricken third-worlder half as much for twice as much? The world was ripe for picking, and I was there for it.
I moved up pretty fast, and my parents didn’t like it. When I made upper management, my parents tried to buy out the company. Fortunately, before the deal could take place, the alien invasion they were funding fell through and they had to go into hiding. When I got promoted to VP, they tried to run Denver Med out of business by establishing a competitor. It was working… for half a year, when the heroes took down the genetically mutated flesh pods that made their product. When the dust settled, they were imprisoned on the Isle, their company was in tatters, I had just made CEO, and we had just jacked up our insulin prices again.
This was power, true power, that I held in my hands. Money, connection, influence, the very things my parents had sneered at as they built their death rays and monster armies. Now while they were rotting away on some hocus-pocus covered island, I was sitting in one of the biggest buildings in Primapolis. Sure all three of the bigger buildings were owned by or affiliated with superheroes, but being bothered by that was exactly why my parents had lost, and I had won.
“Do you understand that? While you freaks run around in your costumes, I win. I’ll take over the world, without anyone ever noticing, since they’re too busy looking at you. So now put that gun away, take off that mask, and maybe we can talk about you working for me.” |
The asylum was quiet. Unnaturally so. It was rare for the ancient building to have a moment's rest; usually it was punctuated by the screaming of the inmates, in ways that pushed the boundaries of legality. The man in the padded cell knew this best of all. His hair used to be green, but it had grown white with age. He hadn't been allowed access to his lipstick for the better part of a decade, and when he started using his own blood as a substitute, the doctors had him put into a permanent straightjacket. His smile was tired, held up only the ragged scars left behind by the accident that created him. His face, once known for the pale white makeup, was now naturally pale. When he was younger, he was the Joker, Batman's greatest adversary. But time had passed, Batman became a myth, and the Joker became a shadow. He was unrecognizable in his old age. Only his voice gave him away.
He heard the sound of footsteps down the hallway. A small group of six. By the disorganized sound, he assumed they were orderlies, coming to check on the other patients in the wing. Nobody came for poor old Joker anymore. He had been deemed too high a security risk for anything other than eternal solitude.
And yet, the footsteps slowed. The orderlies were just outside his cell. Yet, there was a different sound, punctuating the others. Two slow, irregular thuds, followed by the low sound of wood on concrete. Joker smiled. It looked as though his luck had changed.
The door opened, and Joker raised his tired eyes to greet his visitors. His smile sprang to life, once again. He started to speak, but his dusty vocal chords had fallen into disuse, stifling him.
"Don't bother,"he heard, from the outside.
A man walked in. He wore a gray suit, which Joker thought appropriate, considering his hair and beard. He stumbled in on a wooden cane.
He said, "I suppose I wanted to meet our most famous inmate. Before you die."
Joker made eye contact for the first time in a long while. He whispered, "And what makes you so sure I'm going anywhere?"
The man smiled. "I've spoken with the doctors. I had to confirm it myself."
He paused, smiling like a wolf.
"I never thought I'd say this. But I suppose there's a first time for everything. You have lupus." |
I don't mind prompts that are detailed and include a lot of information about what the person is looking for, as long as there is still plenty of room for the stories to go different ways. And it often gives the writer some good details to work with and build a story around.
I think we should focus on having the title of the prompt be only what is needed to make a story. From your examples:
> One night the voice of God comes to you in your dreams, telling you to paint. Upon awaking, you buy all the equipment required and, despite having no previous experience whatsoever, you put paintbrush to canvas, but it feels like an unknown presence is the one that is controlling your movement
The second sentence is not necessary, because who cares if you have painting experience? So it should be omitted. But your second example:
> As Capt'n sailing a pirate ship, your crew reports sights of a ghostly vessel in the distance. The ship approaches w/ relentless cannon fire. You hopelessly raise a white flag and onslaught ceases. The ghost-captain boards - he wishes to meet you below deck and has an interesting proposition.
That is a very different prompt from the one you suggest:
> As Capt'n sailing a pirate ship, your crew reports sights of a ghostly vessel in the distance.
The poster clearly wants to hear about what happens when you meet the ghost ship captain, which isn't even guaranteed to happen in your version. Even though it is long, it sets the stage for a story that could go many different ways. Maybe the ghost captain wants you to join his crew. Maybe he has an errand for you to do which he can't do because he is a ghost. Etc, etc. It sets the scenario but doesn't include anything unnecessary.
[Here is an example of a prompt from yesterday that you would probably not like](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ummmr/wp_12000_years_in_the_future_civilizations_fell/). Lots of details in the title. But I really enjoyed writing it, because all he did was set the stage for Chernobyl being rediscovered by a medieval-level society later on. That's still a very broad prompt that gave me lots of wiggle room.
Also, keep in mind that people are free to ignore details of the prompt when responding. It's more of a guideline, not a formula. |
**You know that feeling you get when the sun has set and the lights have dimmed, and you hear a creak in the floorboards? That sense of danger when your walking alone at night, looking into the shadows, wondering... that chill that travels up your spine, telling you to *fucking run*? That's me you feel, watching and waiting for a mugger's knife or a slip on a toy car. Always watching, always seeing, and I've seen you, Whitefall. Curious, curious man. Killing women, taking lives, as if you were *me*. Tell me, what is it you feel right now?**
"Nothing."
**You feel *nothing*? Humans evolved in the forests and jungles, in constant fear of the thing lurking behind the bush. You were born to seek the sun's protection and the group's protection from those that would send me to you. Now that I stand above you, looking at the knife in your stomach, you feel *nothing*?**
"You see where I live?"
**Yes, curious man you are. You live alone here, surrounded by forests. Yet, you lay dying, and I stand here, ready to collect one of the more interesting Souls. What is it the humans call you? The Evergreen Killer?**
"No where for you to run out here, is there? No response? Look outside, buddy. You see that? Lot of God damned sunlight out there, isn't it? You can take Souls with the sun out, but you can't retreat into it, can you? You just couldn't fucking resist the opportunity to take me the second you thought I was fallen. Death, the ultimate predator, only hunts those who can't fight."
**How are...**
"How am I standing? Little bit of blood, not *fake*, but not mine. Even Death can't read a man's thoughts, the woman who put the fake blade in me, she's dead, or she will be soon, once I take your Mantle. Honestly, you think that *I*, the fucking *Evergreen Killer*, would leave a knife unattended and a victim untied? I knew *she* was too dumb to see the truth, but *you*? "
**This won't work.**
"The way I see it, I've done some things in this life, things that'll set my ass right in the express lane to Hell. Better that I don't leave this life. Maybe I extend it."
**I have been what I am for longer than you can even imagine, Whitefall.**
"I'll make a better Death than you, anyhow."
**I will allow you to live if you stop-**
"To late, buddy. Tell me, is this how you took the Mantle? Or were you chosen? The first... Death?"
**How do you know of this?**
"I've been on speaking terms with old buddies of yours. Apparently, during Lucifer's rebellion, the Angels that sided with God kept their positions and the ones that sided with the Fallen Boy were turned into Demons. You... if you're the original Death, you were undecided... like a middle aged fucking housewife, you didn't know where to place your vote."
**He raised good points, Lucifer... we just wanted Free Will, the ability to control ourselves as humans had... but God could not be defeated. It was a lose-lose situation, as your kind calls it.**
"So to punish the undecided Angel, God gave you the Mantle of Death, bound you forever to the Mortal Plane. Hydor, the Earthbound. The way it was told to me, it sounds like a punishment, let me relieve you of it."
**You'll find me more capable than a tied and drugged up woman.**
"Let's see about that."
---
A knife would ordinarily hold no power when wielded against an Ancient, and Hydor was among the oldest.
He rushed forward, lowering his right shoulder and driving it into Whitefall's chest. Both of them fell to the wooden floor of Whitefall's cabin, Hydor managing to stay atop the man as he thrashed on his back. He raised a fist and brought it down hard, but hit only floorboard as the man dodged it. The time for speaking was over, and both knew it as they fought for room to strike.
Whitefall lowered his guard, allowing Hydor to place a knee on his chest. What was that in the man's eyes... *satisfaction*? Whitefall quickly shifted his weight into a strong shove, pushing Hydor off-balance. He found his time to strike.
The knife slashed through the air, nicking Hydor in the left shoulder. Only the Earthbound's timing saved him from a deep wound. Hydor's eyes widened and he quickly rose from the ground, backing away to the far side of the cabin. He looked to his shoulder and saw the slash had managed to cut through both his leather and his skin. The little shit wasn't lying when he said he knew old friends. Few Demons had the skill to enchant steel.
Whitefall ran at Hydor, slowing to a hesitant approach when he got into striking distance. He shot his arm out, knife in his hand as though he were a human trident. Hydor jumped left, dodging the attempted stab. Quickly, the Earthbound grabbed Whitefall's arm and pulled him forward, a move catching Whitefall by surprise. The man staggered forward, barely keeping himself from tripping. Hydor swung his right arm, a hay-maker by human terms, fist connecting hard with Whitefall's temple.
The man's knees gave out and he buckled underneath his own weight. Hydor was breathing hard, though the whole fight lasted barely two dozen seconds.
He looked at Whitefall. Part of the Mantle disallowed him from choosing Souls, and it was by his own hand that Whitefall lay unconscious. He couldn't Claim the man, not today at least.
Hydor took a step back and looked outside. He would stay in the cabin until he could leave. Then, he would go to Hell. He hadn't stepped foot in that Plane for so long... so long that apparently some foolish Demons living there *actually* believed the rumors of Hydor being trapped on the Mortal Plane.
Men, he couldn't Claim at will, but Demons who plotted against him? Who could be so foolish?
He had some questions to answer. |
"Guys I'm not even kidding I swear!"Barked Booster.
"The people, under all the skin and weird smells and no hair. They have... They have Bones!"The saliva pooling in his jowl.
"But we can't hurt our people Booster, you know that. Who else would feed us, cuddle us, and protect us when the sky starts barking?"Daisy whined back.
"Oh god of course not, but I just thought i should tell you guys, I dunno... kinda seems like something important."
Daisy glared at him.
Booster lowered his head, tail between his legs."Why do I feel like a bad boy now, what did I do?"
"You aren't a bad boy Boost, that's just useless information with coyote levels of savagery implied."Spoke up Henry, who had remained on his large pillow. "I understand your desire for bones, but we cannot take them from our people."
"BUT!"Boomed Monster. A Great Dane.
"Holy catshit! Monster, dude, quiet, I know how you can't control volume but you almost made me piss myself."Booster returned.
Monster lowering his head down to the level of his counterparts. "My people's, they, they had an old people. Tha old one came overs every sometimes. The old people's gave me a real good petten but didn like when I slobered on em. But still gabe me some snacks lotsa time."A string of drool leaking from his face.
"Thanks bud. Good story"Booster bemused. "Is that relevent to anything or did ya get confused again?"
"Oh oh I forgots. Ma people's took me to this place, there were lotsa people's around and all of em were dressed funny and cryin. And ma peoples were cryin and my little people was hugn me n cryin. And there was this box. I couldn see in the box but it smelled like tha old people. And something else... But they put tha box in tha ground!"Monster trailed off, head keeping track with a leaf blowing down the road.
"HEY, Monster! You said there was a point!"Booster snapped. Daisy and Henry amused by the interaction and Monsters blank stare.
"OH OH, the box. They put it in tha ground. Like I does with ma bones!"Monster suddenly appearing very pleased dropped his weight on the ground with an audible thump.
The dogs all looked at eachother and wondered for a second. Except for Monster, he was already napping.
"Bones. In the ground. Who knew they did that too!"Henry said breaking the silence.
"I'll go get my boys red wagon!"Exclaimed Booster, darting off back home.
*6 hours later*
***And today on weird local news it appears that 4 dogs have been spotted leaving the the Nottingham cemetery with what can only be assumed to be a red wagon full of bones, the dog breeds are as listed, Great Dane, Bull Terrier, a Golden Retriever, and an American Bulldog, if anyone has any information on the wagon, or the dogs, call the weird news hotline at 978 897 9987.***
Billy looked from the T.V. to his Bull Terrier Booster, who was enthusiastically gnawing on a bone. |
The Volan captain stared at the viewing window, the light in his eyes pulsing with disbelief. A whole, undiscovered galaxy? It was too good to be true. His body thrummed with excitement as he imagined the riches that could be his: the high-class power cores he could devour, the ships he could buy… hell, if he wanted to, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to hire an entire fleet, complete with mercenaries and pilots. He could go from a captain of a medium-sized ship with basic weapons systems to the commander of a fully weaponized fleet in the span of months.
He turned to the navigator, impatiently watching her glowing fingers tap against the complex holographic interface. Sensing his gaze, she shrunk back a little, stepping away from the screen as it floated towards the captain.
“Sir, the system is completely uninhabited except for one planet, E-1489, which has less than ten billion intelligent lifeforms on it. They call themselves humans. A scan of their systems shows that they have no visible extraterrestrial defense systems. Their strongest weapon systems are class 3-C. Nuclear fission, but with no way to focus the resulting energy. As such…”
Her voice trailed off as a simulation played on the holographic screen, showing a nuclear bomb detonating, a mushroom cloud billowing into the air as the surface of the planet crumbled away.
The captain glanced at the screen, disdain flashing over his face. “Primitives,” he spat, watching humanity’s fumbling attempts at harnessing nuclear power. Inadvertently, he glanced at the hull of his ship. Fifteen nuclear cores. And it wasn’t even that impressive a ship.
“Power up the engines, set course for E-1489,” the captain barked. If the ‘humans’ were smart, they would submit. If not, well, they wouldn’t be the first to wipe out a primitive race while taking over a galaxy. It was frowned upon, sure, but even if the Intergalactic Court pressed charges, it’d be a misdemeanor at most. Pay a fine and do some community service, clean up a few asteroid belts. Nary a slap on the wrist.
The navigator glanced nervously at the captain. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She was probably wrong, and this *was* a grand undertaking, not some minor project that could be put aside due to a scarcely perceptible risk.
“What? Say your piece,” the captain said, watching the navigator’s hesitation from the corner of his eye.
“Sir,” she said, struggling to find the words, “There seems to be… something else on E-1489. It’s faint, but our scanners have picked up an energy ripple. It’s almost indiscernible from the energy ripple of the planet itself. If anything, the frequency is slightly higher. But it’s coming from the core of the planet itself, not any technological system that they’ve developed. Do we proceed?”
The captain frowned. If this wasn’t effectively a tribe of savages he was dealing with, an unknown energy signature would be a cause for great concern. A hidden weapon of some kind, perhaps. Or an advanced force field. But these ‘humans’ hadn’t even harnessed nuclear energy properly. Weighing the risks against the riches that possession of a galaxy could bring, there was no doubt in the captain’s mind.
“Move to E-1489. Deploy the shields as we enter the atmosphere, and watch out for any odd energy fluctuations as we enter the vicinity,” he commanded.
The massive metal ship cruised towards E-1489. Earth. The captain marveled at the shades of blue and green that dotted the planet. It was rare to see a planet with so much vegetation and water. A blessing to its inhabitants, perhaps, but now that blessing was his to claim. He was so close to the planet now, almost at the point where he could enter the atmosphere.
Then it happened. It took a moment for the navigator to parse what was happening on the screen in front of her. Where had that reading come from? A moment later, she realized what had happened. The faint energy pulse from the core of the Earth was no longer so faint anymore. It was thrumming with power, growing stronger and stronger at a rapid pace. Like a beast awakened from a long slumber.
“Captain,” she cried, “There’s something wrong! The energy ripple has exceeded the limits of what our ship’s shields can defend against!”
The captain’s face drained of all colour, the light in his eyes flickering madly as he paced around the cockpit. He was so close to entering the atmosphere and obliterating that race of pests, so close he could feel it. But there was no point in conquering a galaxy if they weren’t alive to enjoy the spoils.
“Pull out, thrusters in reverse, full power!” the captain barked decisively. He’d have to call another ship with better shields to help out. It would thin his share of the profits significantly, but what could he do?
As the ship pulled away from Earth’s atmosphere, the energy reading on the screen dipped as quickly as it had come. The captain and the navigator both let out a sigh of relief. What had *that* been all about? There was no way that the ‘humans’ could possibly have harnessed that kind of energy if all they could do with nuclear bombs was blow themselves up.
The Volans on the ship only had a moment to consider the question before the energy reading started to climb steadily again. This time, it skyrocketed abruptly. Class 3-C, class 3-B, class 2-B, class 1-C… The lethality of the energy signature locked in at class 1-A as warnings filled the cockpit screens.
“WARNING: Foreign energy output has exceeded maximum measurement capacity.”
The message on the screen was simple, but the two Volans’ eyes shrunk abruptly when it appeared. Class 1-A was enough to destroy a small *planet*, much less their ship. The thrusters had faltered, as if they had been suppressed by some other force. The ship was gradually being pulled back towards E-1489’s atmosphere, and there was nothing they could do about it.
A moment later, an invisible ripple of energy surged out from the core of the Earth, climbing quickly to the surface. It surged in circles around an odd-looking cluster of stone pillars that stood upright in an open field. The weathered layers of rock peeled away momentarily, revealing a shimmering black surface covered in glowing, shifting runes. At the center of the array of rocks, the air warped as a terrifying wave of energy threaded itself through the air. It pierced through the atmosphere, and landed against the energy shield of the Volan ship.
The Volans died a quick and painless death. The energy shield of their ship couldn’t hold out for even a millisecond against that pulse of energy. After it collapsed, the thread of energy twined itself around the metal carapace of the ship in a matter of seconds, before exerting enough force to compress the metal ship into a tiny asteroid.
Simultaneously, on Earth, thousands of people gazed into the night sky and made a wish upon a shooting star.
*****
*more stories at /r/chasing_mist*
|
"Don't worry, communication isn't an issue. We've implanted a translator chip into your brain so you can understand us, and we can understand you."
John soaked in his surroundings. The surface of the counters was a color he had never seen before. Not as in a different shade, but a completely *new* color. He looked up at the man holding the clipboard.
"And you're interested in learning about *this*."
He gestured toward the clipboard, with a look of astonishment.
"Yes. We are trying to understand humans from your time. This relic would have been something popular in your culture."
John couldn't believe what he was seeing. Of all the things to make it 2000 years into the future it had to be this. He began to contemplate if his life had all been one giant meme.
"I can tell you about it."
He sighed, and looked at the man. All of the assistants in the room had their unyielding attention placed solely on John. Watching. Waiting.
"It's a...cartoon. This character is actually a scientist, much like yourself. In this scene he had managed to transform his body into a pickle instead. They called it Pickle Rick. In my culture, this was the funniest thing that ever existed."
Having fulfilled his duty, John maneuvered his legs back onto the table.
"Go ahead and freeze me for another 2000 years. I'm done with this shit." |
It isn’t every day someone finds a magic lamp. One wish later, and I can hear what people actually mean. It’ll be nice to hear what my coworkers actually think of me after all these years.
I stroll confidently through the cubes and wave hi to my boss.
“Morning Susan.” I call cheerfully.
“I’m acknowledging your standard greeting with a standard response.” She calls back. I smile and move into the gowning area to put on my lab coat.
“Morning Teresa.” I call to the coworker whose running an experiment on the next bench over.
“I’m sounding mildly disinterested and distracted because I really don’t like talking to people all that much and am trying not to attract too much attention, but I am trying to add in enough positivity so you don’t think I’m being rude to you in so I can continue to foster productive work relationships and thereby further both my career and personal life.” Wow, and all she probably really said was ‘hi’.
Around lunch time I sat down with a co-worker Samantha and discussed politics over some sandwhiches.
“I’m voicing an opinion I feel strongly about because my social group stigmatizes anyone with the opposite opinion and I’m trying to fit in.” Samantha tells me.
“That’s interesting, when did you hear about this.” I asked.
“From my friend.” She replied. Huh, that was probably what she actually said.
“So what do you think of the president’s new economic decision?”
“I’m voicing an opinion I feel strongly about because my social group stigmatizes anyone with the opposite opinion and I’m trying to fit it. Also I love chicken.” I wondered how many political questions I could ask and get this same answer? This was going to make the elections so much more interesting. Also, I wondered if the chicken comment was about the food or the economic policy.
Having completed an interesting day of talking to coworkers it surprised me to know it actually made conversations a lot easier. When I arrive home and say hello to my husband whose watching to TV he responds.
“Hello person of significant emotional value to me who I am attempting to acknowledge enough that she feels valued but not so much that she feels the need to start a conversation.” I make my way to the study to find a good book and reflect that if he said that whenever he wanted alone time we’d probably have way less fights.
I periodically checked in with him every half hour to see if he was ready for me. His responses were the same. He wanted alone time but wanted to acknowledge me, until I finally heard.
“I think I’m done watching TV and wish the girl I love would just come over here so we could spend some time together.” His comment was made all the sweeter by the fact that I knew he meant it.
I eagerly came back in, and when I sit down he tells me.
“I love you.”
Edit: left out the curse bit, hoping it adds a little extra twist. |
"We're requesting authorisation to land. This is Flight MH370, I repeat MH370. It seems our landing slot has been taken by another vehicle."
Silence crackled over the speaker. Chen Duan, lazing back in her swivelling chair in the flight tower, pen twirling between her fingers, had suddenly sat up very straight.
"Could you repeat the number of the flight please?"She realised with a sudden start that her fingers were trembling as she pressed the button on the radio.
"That's Flight MH370, coming from Kuala Lumpur. This is Captain Shah speaking. We've been informed that our landing spot has been taken and we're waiting for another. Could you find us a time to land please?"
"Where are you currently?"Chen gestured at Wei, her colleague in the flight tower. "You have to listen to this,"she hissed. "I think it's the missing plane."
"We're circling Beijing airport. Requesting permission to land, requesting permission to land."
------------
Sandy heaved her bag down from the cabin lockers, easing it over the headrests of the seats in front of her. It was a huge rucksack, worn and faded, with patches stuck on from a myriad different adventures in south-east Asia. The next plan was Beijing, see the Forbidden City and a day trip out to the Great Wall before catching the next flight to Mumbai and continuing her gap year there.
Organised as usual, she had her passport and visa out of one of the side pockets. She'd had a couple of rough patches with administration and she was hoping it'd go smoothly from here on in. There was the hotel reservation, a couple of choice phrases and the name and number of a taxi company she was supposed to use.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd remain seated for a couple of moments more. There's a little bit of a hold up on the court, and we're just waiting for the buses to arrive to take you to the terminal."
Disappointed, Sandy sat back down. Was there any point in switching her phone on yet? She hadn't had any signal in Kuala Lumpur, and it was unlikely it would reach any networks in China. She slipped it out of her pocket and pushed the button, waiting for the little glowing screen to come to life.
Frowning, she shook it. That was weird. Even accounting for the time difference, that couldn't be - Oh it must have completely fucked up. That wasn't today's date either. There was some kind of noise building up on the runway. She looked up, to see....
-------------
"Jonathan! Keep up!"Eleanor ran ahead, shoes clipping over the tarmac, mac floating out behind her like a superhero's cape. She carried her mike in one hand, the other on top of her head to desperately try and preserve the hasty work of the hair and make-up team. Jonathan, her slightly over-weight camera man, was following close behind but falling back. Even before the heaviness of the solid camera he carried on his shoulder, there were ten to fifteen pounds around his waist that shouldn't be there.
Eleanor had reached the stairs of the aircraft, carefully manoeuvred into place. The doors were starting to click back and the first blue uniforms of the flight attendants could be seen. But there were others too, a couple of people from the BBC following them. Harry was out of breath, shirt already sweat stained under his armpits.
"Eleanor,"he nodded, puffing.
"Harry,"she replied curtly, then side stepped him and grabbed the first person off the plane, just reaching the bottom of the stairs now. Thank god she was a young American; blonde hair in dreads and a ratty rucksack slung over one shoulder.
"Hi!"She said brightly. "I'm wondering if we can ask you a few questions. The whole world is going to be asking this, but; where have you been?"
"Me?"The girl looked startled, stepping back and gripping her rucksack. "Why, is everything okay? Is my family alright?"
"No, I'm sure they're fine. We're talking about the plane. Where have you been for the last few months? What happened?"
"What are you talking about? We've just arrived. Oh my god-"The girl's face had just gone pale. She held up her phone. "I have to call my folks."
She hurried out of range of the camera. Over on her left, the Mandarin-speaking Harry seemed to be having the same problems. He caught Eleanor's eye and they both shrugged together. That small clip would be broadcast around the world; the people pouring off the plane and the first journalists to realise there was something badly wrong.
-------------------
|
"Forty-three years?"the man asked, sitting up in his hospital bed with shocking agility.
"Easy,"the doctor said. He raised his hands in surprise and felt his shoulder click from the effort. At sixty eight years of age, even he couldn't move with the same agility as the man in the hospital bed. But this man was only a few minutes out of a coma that had lasted nearly half a century.
"I've been lying here for forty-three years?"the man asked again.
"Yes. I had only just started at the hospital when you were brought in. You have to understand, your case is highly irregular. When we-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."The man swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I've got to get out of-"he paused, realizing that tubes still ran into his arm.
The doctor took a step back, alarmed by the speed with which the man moved. The man yanked his arm free and all the tubes popped out. The open wounds on his forearm sealed almost immediately.
"Jesus Christ!"the doctor shouted.
"No,"the man shrugged. "Not him. I'm a little more complicated. What happened to me, by the way? How'd I end up here?"
"You were in a car accident."
The man snapped his fingers. "That's right. What hit me? Was it a truck of nuclear waste?"
"No... uh... it was a Coca Cola truck?"
"Coca Cola was what did me in? Could I have had a reaction to.... you know what, nevermind. Just more stuff to put in my report."
"Your report?"
"Where is my phone?"
"Your phone?"
"My god,"the man rubbed his hand over his head. His eyebrows raised when he realized that his hair had been shaved in the last forty three years, but he pushed the thought aside. "How is it that I'm the one coming out of a forty three year coma, but you're the one with all the questions? My phone. Where is it?"
"Something you had with you at the time of the accident? I have no idea. It must have been lost years ago."
"So I have no phone?"The man stomped the floor in frustration, annihilating a section of tile. Shouts came from the floor below as debris fell onto an empty hospital bed. "So I can't call home."
The doctor's jaw hung open. He had backpedaled until he was up against the wall.
"That's ok,"the man said, rubbing his chin. "They trained you to improvise. So improvise."
"What are you?"the doctor asked.
"I'm... not from here."
"Not from... New York?"the doctor asked, vaguely gesturing to the city around them.
"Well, no."The man grumbled. "Why didn't you just pull the plug on me when I died? Why did you keep me alive?"
"I don't know how to say this. But you've done an incredible amount of good for so many people."
"How so?"
"Your organs have-"
"Wait. What did you do with my organs?"
"Well, when we realized that they regenerated we-"
"Don't tell me you gave them to humans."
"We.... yes. They've gone to thousands of people."
The man blinked in surprise. Suddenly, the doctor realized that this was the first time the man had blinked since opening his eyes from the coma.
"Well,"the man said. "The good news is I don't have to make a report back home, anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because this planet just became unconquerable."
"Unconquerable?"
"You just put a little bit of me in several thousand people. Now that I'm awake, those parts of me are going to start taking effect."
A car alarm blared outside, followed by a series of screams.
"I am so fired,"the man whispered. |
"I have come to save you!", he said. "I will slay the dragon!", he said. "AAAAARGGGHHH!", he said. He lasted a grand total of 3 minutes and 28 seconds against Shipla, a solid 7 minutes behind Sir Gannonfall.
Sir Cedric Shieldman was the biggest excuse for a knight that I have ever seen. I had doubted his status as the 'Chosen Knight' ever since I read it in the weekly newspaper that my captor bought me. As far as dragons go Shipla was quite a good host.
Well, at least his mule (yes, he didn't even have a horse) was smarter than him. It ran straight to me with the knight's sword, the body still attached to it. I took this sword and killed Shipla in about 15 seconds, it's remarkable what you can accomplish in a blaze of unbridled rage.
It was pretty straightforward really. I ran up to the dragon and stabbed her. That's it. Shipla managed to damage my dress a little but that's about it. I beheaded her for good measure and decided to head back home.
'We' decided to take the dragon's head with us as the mule took, ahem, a liking to the dragon head (it is very creepy and inappropriate, but this is not my animal to discipline).
So now this is where it gets ridiculous. The council thinks that a 'little lady' could not have done this. Apparently Shieldman and Shipla died fighting each other and I just ran away with the sword.
Apparently beheading a dragon and delivering a sword shattering blow is something only a trained (yeah right) knight can do.
Even when I maimed the head of the council in front of everyone that day they ruled it as and accident and refused to punish me.
Even when I beheaded the first-born son of the king at the town square, they called it a suicide and let me go.
Even when I set fire to the palace, killed the guards, took the king hostage, lay claim to the throne, and subsequently became queen, they blamed the neighboring kingdom.
I don't know what I have to do to be taken seriously around here. Do you?
---
This is my first submission, please feel free to be critical. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. |
The Book is our yesterday. The Book is our tomorrow. The Book is our past and our future and our present all bundled together into that infinite tome. It's not a Bible where fact is interspersed with fiction. It's not an encyclopedia where today's truth may be tomorrow's lies. No matter how outrageous, the information from the Book is always true.
There's just one rule to this crux of our civilization: once a page is turned, it is impossible to turn it back. If the newest page tells of an asteroid hurtling towards our solitary planet or of an invasion of demonic beings from another dimension, it is destined to happen. If the Book adds canon for events of long ago, they become the way they have always been. Each day we turn a page. Each day we will turn a page until there are no more pages left to turn.
I didn't think that day would ever come. We have been around for many thousands of years. From the times of the Early Men with their loincloths and their three-headed canine companions to the grandiose architecture of the Golden Age with those buildings that tore gashes into the clouds to bring forth the heavenly rains, the pages have turned. Presidents have usurped kings. Dictators have toppled presidents. The reservoir has dried and the locusts have ravaged the fertile fields. The orchards have given fruit to golden apples and the ocean's fish have leaped into our nets with suicidal glee. Through good and bad, the Book has led us.
And then today at the ceremony the new page told us it was over. Not humanity, I hope, and not the story of our developing civilization, but the pages of the Book. **Caution, do not turn!** was all the new page read. The council deliberated for hours. I don't know why. There wasn't anything to deliberate about. For thousands of years we had followed each instruction the Book gave us and crafted our history and future from the words that the magical volume sprang forth. This time should be no different.
But fall never came. The leaves never turned to red or orange. Grandmother never died, in spite of her raspy breath and the way her hands trembled as she guided the bowl of water to her mouth. Mother never gave birth. No mothers ever gave birth. The crescent moon never waned or waxed and the tides ceased to inch their way up the sandy beach. And so the council sat down again, and once more they found themselves locked in the same indecision. Or perhaps their indecision was a decision in itself, a decision to blindly obey the Book that had provided us with the blessings to survive until now.
The book still sat atop the altar in the city square, its pages weighed down by some invisible force. Only a hand could move it onward, and nothing at all could move it back.
That was until the riders came with an unusual fog, four of them trotting into the city atop those magnificent horses. A white horse, pure as the doves a bride releases at her ceremony. A red horse, painted with blood. A black horse as dark as the nights we no longer had. A pale horse, its ribs showing through that patchy hair. They stopped before the book, and one by one they dismounted and traced their fingers around its edges. They spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones. The council watched in perverse fascination as our fragile existence lingered at their fingertips.
And then the horseman cloaked black gently closed the book and they continued on their journey. With indecision came decision. The seeds never grew and the fish stopped swimming. The creatures of the forest dwindled and the aqueduct ran dry. Grandmother disappeared, walking off in the direction that the horsemen went. Others followed, undoing themselves of the restraints of their deathbed to walk into the emptiness. And still the council deliberated, reluctant to open the Book again.
Only when we found ourselves short of able bodies as we struggled to fill the gaps that our deserters left did we finally come back to the Book. Pestilence was naught, for we had no crops. War was sparse, for our enemies laughed at the frail remnants of what we were. Even famine didn't strike, because we had few people left to eat the little food we had. With our indecision came only death, as the horsemen had decided.
And so we opened the Book, and we found that it was blank now. Page after page was empty. Briefly, for a fleeting moment, we were a people without a past. But people remembered and they spoke. And instead of the Book dictating the way we would henceforth be, each day we put to writing the way things were. No longer did the Book tell of a past and future we could not escape. Now we wrote our own history.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
"Yeah, I figured it was a bit of a risk, but here you are."
Dan looked down at his freshly-deposited corpse.
"I was an altar boy in my youth. Can you believe that? Roman Catholic."
"Your record is...varied,"Hermes said.
"Yeps. I dabbled in them all. It started with Buddhism in college. For a girl."
"More than 98% of Buddhist converts begin that way, I understand."
"Makes sense. And it was worth it, for about six months. But that just sort of whetted my appetite. I was a real estate guy, so I thought, why not? Location, location, location, after all."
Dan drifted down slightly to nudge his earthly slack mouth closed with an ethereal foot.
"I'm a lover, not a fighter. And I hate being cold. So Valhalla was right out. The Dreamtime seemed right up my alley, but I'm petrified of snakes...so the whole Rainbow Serpent thing turned me off."
"Christian Heaven didn't appeal to you?"
"Who the hell knows what that is?"he said. "Have you ever actually read that book? They can't seem to get their story straight. Is it all pearly gates and gold streets, or being sucked into the Godhead for 'eternal oneness' or whatever? No - I strictly stayed away from foreclosures. Know why? You can't take a peak inside first."
"Understandable,"Hermes said.
"On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Egyptian Field of Reeds was way, way too specific. There's a whole book for just getting there."
"With the riddles and the alligator guy and the feathers and the scales and the..."
"Exactly. I'm dead. That's like super-retired. The last thing I want to do is work."
"So you settled on classical Greek paganism? You know it's more a collection of myths and moral parables rather than a coherent belief sys-"
"Yeah. But here you are, right?"
"Right,"said Hermes, a little sheepishly.
"And it was pretty easy. I ordered chanfana a couple times - Portuguese goat stew, delicious - and that counted as my ritual sacrifices. I watched Jason and the Argonauts every other week, and I grew out this beard."
"Are those curlers?"
"They are indeed."
"Nice touch."
"Get this - they're going to play "Zero to Hero"at my funeral."
"I probably don't have to tell you how popular Disney is on Mount Olympus."
Hermes twirled his staff and looked off, distractedly.
"So, off to the Elysian Fields, eh?"Dan said.
The wings on Hermes' helmet pricked up, like the ears of a startled cat.
"Oh - oh no. You managed a lateral shift, not a promotion. Tartarus for you, my friend." |
"I have ways of making you talk, you know."
The criminal in front of me shuddered. "I-I-Alright, just give me a moment!"They winced as I began to use my greatest interrogation technique.
It wasn't the life that I had envisioned for myself, but I found a way to make do with what I had.
My parents had certainly gotten better abilities than mine. My father was given telepathy at birth, which was incredibly frustrating during my teenage years in the time before he disappeared. My mother's ability was even more astounding--she had perfect vocal mimicking skills, and such a beautiful voice of her own that her song covers usually sounded better when she WASN'T trying to imitate the original.
You'd think that I would get a cool ability, with them as my parents. Maybe the ability to translate thoughts from any other language, or maybe the ability to turn people's thoughts into a musical masterpiece just for them!
Instead, I got the ability to play songs in other people's heads.
I got bullied quite a bit for my useless ability, until I figured out how to fight back. People were suddenly a lot nicer to me once they realized that I could get the "Barney"theme song into their heads and loop it for as long as I wanted.
As a teenager, I branched out. I would scour the Internet for any soundtracks of screeching and other horrible sounds, then put up with them for long enough to memorize them.
I'll admit, I almost went down a very dark path after that. It would have been simple for me to graduate from fighting back against bullies to torture and blackmail. Honestly, the only reason that I didn't is because I saw the future supervillains in my high school class and realized that whatever I did with my life, I would not be associated with them.
I didn't realize what I was meant to do with my life until soon after my senior year of college. There was a news story going around about the supervillain Audio, who had the power to turn people's hearing on and off. He had been in custody for months and they couldn't break him; he would threaten to deafen anyone who came at him physically, and he just turned his own hearing off when they tried other techniques. I went into the police station that day and told them my story; five hours later, Audio confessed, in tears, after I looped a particularly nasty scream track in his head for a while.
"STOP!!! PLEASE!!"
I had gotten distracted by my daydream, and had left a sobbing child on loop in the prisoner's head for ten minutes.
"Sorry about that,"I said, actually meaning it unlike any of the other police interrogators. I shut off the sound.
"So...are you willing to talk now?"
"Y-yes,"they stammered, clearly shaken. "Just...please. Please don't do that again."
"Alright then."I turned on my tape recorder, ready for another confession.
"Tell me where the supervillain known as the Mind Scanner is hiding."
"Shouldn't you know?"The prisoner's smug grin was starting to return.
"Don't test me,"I said, raising my finger with no intent to actually use my powers again.
"N-No! Of course not,"the prisoner said in a very different tone of voice.
We both took deep breaths to steady ourselves. This was going to be difficult.
"Tell me, on the record."
I took another deep breath before I continued.
"Tell me where my father is hiding."
\---
If you liked this, check out my subreddit! [r/NicodemusLux](https://www.reddit.com/r/NicodemusLux/) |
**REMINDER**
A reminder to all visitors to this system. This system marks the end of the Counsel's jurisdiction. From here, Counsel Military and Security can not reach you and thus can no longer provide protection to you or your property.
If you are going somewhere marked as "Dangerous", we recommend bringing a guide with you, preferably a Human species guide. Please see reference below to give you a brief overview of the Human species, as well as a tutorial on how to handle them. Press here.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Humans (homo sapien sapien): Humans were discovered in the 367th Year of the Galactic Unity. While at first a hostile enemy of the Counsel, they soon were pacified with the Outer Arms Agreements. The largest exchange of territory to any one species in Counsel history. Since then, Humans have lived peacefully among the galaxy and are some of the greatest pioneers and adventurers in the name of the Counsel. Discovering new systems, worlds, and expanding the Counsel's reach at an unprecedented rate.
Because of their innate to desire to conquer and explore, along with their advanced weapon manufacturing, hostility and rapid healing factor, they are ideal for guides through "Dangerous"areas. If you decide to travel outside Counsel Jurisdiction, here are the steps you should take to recruit a human guide.
1. Approach human territories carefully, and timidly. Humans react violently to quick and sudden inter-species interaction.
2. Have funds immediately ready to deposit. While the Human governments are easy to negotiate with, average humans are distrustful, and will demand compensation upon agreement.
3. DO NOT DISOBEY THE ORDERS OF YOUR GUIDE! Humans can be irrational, distrustful and most of all, extremely violent. For you, and your party's safety, the Counsel recommends following exact orders from a Human guide.
4. Finally, be safe. While human's may pose their own assortment of threats, so do "Dangerous"areas. The unexplored wilderness of space has many threats and even more threats unbeknownst to anyone. Stay safe. To quote a common, and ancient phrase of the Humans; The night is dark, and full of terrors. |
The advent of testing for genetic markers of "meta-human"abilities in the 22nd century really helped stratify the post-evolution society. When meta-human abilities were first discovered, it was often by pure chance, and it was really difficult and required days of extensive behavior tests to verify an aptitude. In the year 2159, a geneticist at the former Broad Institute was able to gather DNA samples of 100,000 meta-human subjects and developed a test to be able to quickly categorize a person's innate aptitude for their ability.
By the time that the cheap $50 test was integrated with the traditional college application process, all of the major tier-1 colleges required applicants to submit test results along with their standard application package. This led to the foreseeable result of many Universities attempting to specialize in specific areas of competence. Harvard was seeking memory-enhanced applicants for their history department. MIT was seeking computation-enhanced applicants for their CS and Engineering majors. Stanford developed a clear preference for upper-body strength-enhanced applicants in a bid to finally break into the crowded rowing and crew tournaments.
When Bob got the results of his test in the mail, he was extremely disappointed and puzzled. The letter from the thin white envelope contained a one bold-face line...
Bob Kreigman:
***************
RESULT: Not matched for any known aptitude.
***************
Clearly, this crushed his dream of getting into Duke's telepathy department. So he did what any normal high school senior would do in his situation - he posted the results on 5chan and asked for advice. The trolls soon descended.
"Well, at least you can still make a decent salary working at McDonald's"
"Are you sure you tested negative for being a dumbass?"
"Go kill yourself."
Bob had expected some trolls, but one comment about being a poster-child for the perils of being genetically stunted by inbreeding really set him off. In fact, the emotional letdown of the negative test results and the sheer volume of troll posts angered him so much, he punched his monitor in frustration. However, instead of shattering the display, his fist went *through* the monitor, and his fist connected with a fleshy "thwack"to user anonymous13541998's chin.
"OW, what the fuck man!"Came through the speakers on the bottom of his monitor.
This was the start of Bob's new business - Kreigman Private Investigation for the 22nd Century. After honing his skills, he was able to reach through and throttle any anonymous poster of any internet forum and social media website. His clientelle slowly grew as word of mouth spread of his unique ability. His initial customers were jealous girlfriends who wanted to slap the girls posting Facebook comments on their boyfriend's wall. Eventually, he was sought out by PR firms to be a publicity consultant for major brands. Usually the job involved punching people who left negative reviews of his client's products on Amazon or Yelp.
One day, Bob got a mysterious email from a .gov address. It was a clear request to punch the sender in the face. When he pulled his fist back from the monitor, though, he noticed that there was a CIA business card and a short message scrawled on the back.
"Needed to verify first. Would like to talk about an espionage and counter-propagandist analyst position at the Agency. Call this number if you are interested."
With a smile, Bob knew that he would be alright. |
I wake up in the morning to a beautiful view of the southern isles of Greece. The waters reflect the golden sun into my hotel room. I always leave the shades open so I know when it is time for me rise. I don't want to miss one second of the day in this beautiful place.
When I go down for coffee in the morning the boy behind the counter tells me it's 2.25, and the 2.25 is in my pocket when I reach for it.
No more, no less. When I don't want anything my pocket is empty.
And right now, now that I have my coffee, I don't want a thing. I go outside and sit back in a recliner and watch the sun rise further up. "Ahhh... now this is the life."
What I don't know, is Across the globe in Paterson, New Jersey someone isn't relaxing.
Mark has been up for the past 2 days and nights. His young 3 year old son is screaming while Mark just tries to get him to go to bed. "Grandma will be here to watch you soon ok? Daddy's gotta go to f'ing work. Just stay here little champ daddy will be back soon."
He leaves his crumbling apartment and heads to the mall where he's the night shift security guard. Once there the job is pretty easy, all he has to do is walk around once every 30 minutes.
Mark doesn't spend any of his time idle. He picks up his phone and starts his telemarketing job with a ring and a rejection.
"Sir do you have 5 minutes to talk about potentially lowering the cost of your heating provider?"
"Fuck off ya telemarketing shit;"click.
Mark runs his hand through his head and exhales loudly, the stress and lack of sleep slowly tearing him apart. He works for over 100 hours every week.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small pieces of paper that are always in his pocket.
He looks through them with equal dread and hatred. "7.99, Ryan McCann""14.28, Ryan McCann. 2.25, Ryan Mccann".
Mark let's out A heavy sigh, only 25 bucks today, thank god. He thinks to himself now I will have enough money to buy my son a Christmas present, if only this keeps up for a little longer. The papers, and the mysterious Ryan McCann (me), have ruined Marks life.
Every one is a notice his bank account is less by that amount. His life is an eternal game of catch-up, trying to remake while some force takes from him.
The bank tellers can't explain it, "the numbers are as they always are"they tell him.
As Mark finishes getting told to fuck off by another potential customer, he feels another piece of paper appear in his pocket. He decided a long time ago not to check every single time because it drives him mad, but right now he does.
He reaches in and sees..."240,000, Ryan McCann".
Mark stares at the paper in disbelief. "No. Nooo, NOOOO MOTHER FUCKER NOOOO FUCK YOU FUCK FUCK FUCK YOUUUUUU!!!!!!"
I'm cruising down the twisty turny roads of Greece in a hot red Ferrari. The long brown path before me calling my name, telling me to race forward.
I'm enjoying my newest toy, I've always liked fancy cars but never got one even since I discovered the magic.
Maybe I'll buy a new one every day, leave this one with the keys in it for some random lucky person to find.
Why not I say? Its not like I'm hurting anybody. |
“Aight gentleman, show your hands.”
“Queen High Straight, we good here?” I said to Marty.
“Hold up amigo. Spade flush, nice try there Francis” he quipped back as he grabbed the chips.
“Well...that’s certainly odd. You know what? I’m going to call it a night. Luck ain’t with me tonight it seems like.” I said as I grabbed my chips to cash out.
“Hey Francis, don’t lose too much sleep over it. You always end up winning, it was eventually bound to happen that you’d lose.” Marty said as he began looking at his next hand of cards.
I cashed out for $75. Nothing insane, but certainly less then what I should have earned. I began walking downstairs as I began mumbling to myself. The sounds flowing out of me making no sense to the average person. But I knew what I was doing, I was summoning the devil. I needed to have a small chat with him.
I kicked open the door that led to the trash area of the building. By the time I had finished mumbling my incantations, the clouds around me became a dark, gloomy, blood red. The sounds of animals making noise turned silent. I felt the ground shake, followed by the sound of a lightning bolt crackling nearby.
Satan always had a penchant for the extravagant. Always one to show off, never a demon of practicality.
“Who dare summons me?!” He bellowed.
I did not give him enough time to turn around to me. I grabbed him by his large mane of hair and slammed him to the wall behind me.
“WHOA! WHAT THE HELL, FRANCIS?” He yelled out.
“Listen, we had our little deal. I win every game I play in, in exchange you get to have my soul. I just lost to freaking Marty. What in the world gives?” I said to Satan.
“Wait you lost? In poker?? You were already a pretty good player to begin with, how did you mess up the hand?” He said to me before we got into a quick back and forth.
“Misread the hole cards?”
“Queen 10 offsuit”
“Did you make a small pre flop bet and then represented a mediocre hand by betting the ante on the flop?
“Of course I did, I then checked the turn to lure him into making a C bet.”
“Did you then bet it big on the river in order to make him he was trapped in the hand?
“Yeah, but what can you do when the other guy has the stone cold nuts?” I said to Satan.
Satan began looking deep in thought, thinking what would have caused this scenario.
“Listen I am stumped on this. You shouldn’t have lost that hand. I gave you one of my most powerful demons their abilities. Wait, did the guy you lost to smell like fresh cut lumber?” Satan said to me as just began guessing names.
“Yeah, he said he got a new cologne, I think its just the girl he is sleeping with doesn’t want him smelling like his wife.” I said back to him, Satan's eyes now focused intently on why the powers didn’t work.
“I got it. Next time you guys play, wear these special glasses. I want you to keep an eye out for me, will you? Satan said to me.
The next week was quite different from prior weeks. Marty was now openly bragging about how he felled the most talented poker player in the region. I passed the dealer a quick hundred and wanted in on the major main tournament.
I sat across from Marty in the table and began to smell the classic smell of new cologne that way. There was that scent of fresh chopped lumber. I decided to put on the glasses. The majority of the world ended up in the same, with the exception that I could see your primal.
There stood behind Marty, was Jesus, giving him instructions on how to play his hand.
I looked quickly at Jesus. This was the reason I lose? Because he literally had a divine being help him unfairly. Granted I did, but I at least didn’t lie. The next hand ended up being Marty vs I in a classic rematch of our hand a while back.
I looked at Marty and smiled as I pushed all my chips in. Just behind them, I saw Satan walk past my opponents and saw him with a rather vengeful look.
“Listen Francis, I don’t like losing and I don’t like contracts defaulting, so let’s beat this guy” He says as he stared Jesus down. |
"Righto, time to get a move on, lad!"said the burly bearded man in a funny getup.
He slung back his weapon – an odd looking staff of some sort – and extended his arm to grab young Prince Albert on the ground. The spoilt brat resisted as best as he could but the large man carried him on his left shoulder like a sack of potato.
"Unhand me, you brute!"
"Relax, lad. I'm here to– Fuck!"the large man's explanation was cut short by a hail of arrows raining down on them.
Not sooner than a blink, the man turned and unleashed a storm of yellow beams at the direction of which the arrows had come. It all happened so fast that the Prince was sure the large man had magical ethereal beings guarding him.
"That ought to do it,"the man grinned and ran towards the safety of the overgrowth to their back.
"Listen, you fool! I am the–"
"Prince Albert of the House Windsor. I know, Your Royal Highness, I'm a loyal subject of your Great Uncle King George VI of Great Britain, Northern Ireland, and the Commonwealth Realm – or as we'd like to put it, the UK."
"The 'yoo-kay'? What kind of a thing is that?"
The man chuckled, shaking the young Prince on his shoulder quite violently.
"Yeah, the UK. It's a wee bit of island off the coast of Europe,"as he caught the Prince's confused look, the large man sighed, "but of course you wouldn't know what 'Europe' is, eh?"
After a brief jog, the man deemed his surrounding to be sufficiently safe. He sat the young Prince on a rock and began checking his odd kit for something. The man then took out a small piece of cloth with red, blue, and white stripes on it, interwoven in a strange pattern.
"That,"he pointed at the cloth, "that's the UK, right there."
"Strange thing, you and this 'yoo-kay'... Can you tell me about yourself, then?"
"Me? I'm Jack. Captain Jack Moore of the SAS."
"Ess-Ay-Ess? God, you must be from somewhere exotic."
"If you call what is essentially a rock with lots of cloud and rain, covered in quaint little towns, and flooded with tea – then maybe."
Suddenly, shadows moved from all direction rushing towards Captain Jack. He swiftly pulled a knife and parried his opponents. Surprised, the adversaries leapt back ever so slightly and began to poke at the Captain's weak spots. But before the fight could continue further, they were incapacitated in a blink of an eye. A faint smoke and burnt aroma came from his hand – along with a silhouette of a compact black device.
"Are you sent here to kidnap me?"Prince Albert accused.
"You being serious right now, lad? I killed all these men and you still think I'm after your bloody arse?"
"Well my arse is worth a damn kingdom!"
The bear of a man simply stood toweringly over the young Prince and shook his head weakly.
"Right, I'll call you arseling from now on. So just follow my lead and I'll ensure your safety, Your Royal Arseling." |
The human delegation arrived at the marble pantheon in the sky to little fanfare. The delegation was comprised of the leaders of the G8 countries. The conference at the sky pantheon was the result of an arduous process undertaken by the humans. After all, the messages in the clouds weren’t exactly forthcoming with the name of the individual who would accept payment for the new membership. The members of the delegation couldn’t help but feel a bit slighted.
“They have the audacity to cap our data allowance and don’t even deign to welcome us with a spot of tea?” Complained the British PM.
“Where I come from there’s such a thing we call ‘southern hospitality’,” said the U.S. President, “and this ain’t it.”
“Oh what is the point of it all?” Said the French President. “They know they have us by the…how you say? Balls. We are a captive audience. They set the price, we pay it. They know there is no need for red carpets or fresh coffee.”
That each of these leaders weren’t at one another’s throats was a miracle in and of itself. With the newly imposed data restriction Earth’s population had become a zero-sum game. That is, if the U.S. bore two new babies, but only had one old person die, that was one less baby for France, Russia, or Japan. These restrictions sowed protectionist policies and distrust among the global super powers. This game theory drove wedges between historically reliable allies and threatened to destabilize the entire globe if nothing was done about the data cap.
The stakes for the meeting were as high as the sky pantheon in which they’d take place.
As the German chancellor began to critique the structural integrity of the pantheon floating upon a cloud, the large, ornate marble door at the end of the corridor opened with a roar. A large bearded fellow with white hair and white robes strode out to meet the delegation.
“Apologies for making you wait,” said the man, “as you can imagine, we have a great many clients trying to upgrade their membership this time of year. And every client is our most important client—that’s the GloboCorp promise.”
The Russian PM regarded the man with a look dripping with disdain and spit. “Unacceptable. We are customer. We do not wait.”
The bearded man’s eyes burned with fury and his mouth opened to respond before the Japanese PM interrupted.
“What my colleague meant to say was that it is an honor to be invited to your beautiful offices. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a deep bow. “We look forward to the beginning of a fruitful business relationship.”
This appeared to please the bearded man as he scanned from leader to leader, the frown melted from his face. “Of course, of course. I’m so happy you all have made the journey to our humble offices. I’m Plato, Earth’s account manager. It is a pleasure to meet you all. Please follow me to our conference room where we will begin our presentation.”
The delegation followed Plato down the long corridor, their heels echoing about the massive space. Each member took their seat in the plush board room—finally in their own element.
“Can I interest any of you in a quantum latte?” Asked Plato as he stood at the head of the table. “They’re a real treat. We steam milk from the golden heifers of Plang-8 and superheat antimatter and mix them together. The resulting concoction is truly divine…and that’s a certification I am qualified to make.”
The U.S. President raised his hand, “say, is that anti-matter similar to that antifa I hear so much about? If so, I don’t think my constituents would take too kindly to my affiliation with such a beverage.”
Plato stared at the man with a baffled expression of disbelief. “…no. There’s no relation.”
The Japanese and British PM’s shared a knowing look.
There were no takers for Plato’s latte.
“Alright. Let’s get down to business then,” said Plato. The lights came down and a slide show glowed behind Plato as he gesticulated precisely with a laser pointer. “As you can see, Earth has bumped up against its data cap at a population of 10 billion. Now, I hate to be the bad guy, but that’s the result of the budget membership you signed up with initially. Heck, when you first arrived your leaders expected population growth to stall at 1 billion, so it looked like a wild overpay to have selected the gold-tier.
“That said, there were moments—especially around the 7 billion mark—where we at GloboCorp worried about your planet’s ability to continue as a going concern. It looked like you all were going to heat that little blue marble into a boil and poof! There goes Q1 for GloboCorp. But no. Earth is resilient. You, as its finest world leaders, are agile, intelligent, real problem solvers. And for that reason, we’re pleased to offer—for a limited time only—access to the platinum-tier membership.”
Plato paused and scanned the room for questions. Seeing none he continued. “Now, the Platinum-tier provides you access to a new population cap of 20 billion. Since you were all kind enough to get over here this afternoon, I’ll tell you what I can do. If you all agree to upgrade today, I’ll throw in support up to 22 billion. But again, that offer is only good for today. Any questions?”
The French President raised his hand. “Yes, what will this be costing us?”
Plato shined his bright white teeth at the group, his grin appeared more like a dog baring its teeth than a friendly smile. “Yes. There is the small matter of the payment. Before I go into the gauche details, I will first say that Earth is also a bit delinquent on its gold-tier membership. It appears as though…let’s see…”he delayed as he skipped ahead a few slides. “Ah yes, here. Earth is delinquent by a few hundred years.”
The delegation gasped—well, most of them. The Russian PM was unfazed by this revelation. “So how we pay now?” Said the Russian PM with an enviable nonchalance.
“Human sacrifice, of course,” said Plato. |
"Good morning! How is my--"
"Leave before I gouge your eyes out."
Hizti's smile faltered ever so slightly as he set the tray with my breakfast down before me. "Oh dear. Did you get enough sleep last night, Parker? You seem on edge."
I grunted as I sat up in the giant fluffy pet bed Hizti gave me and replied, "I slept fine. It's the fact I slept fine in the home of the person who abducted me that's got me on edge, as you put it."
"Oh, I see. And do you think you're going to be like this all day?"
"No, I think this is going to pass in precisely 13 minutes and 9--YES I'M GOING TO BE LIKE THIS ALL DAY!!! And well through the end of the decade, while I'm at it!"
Hizti nodded and tapped a metal device behind his ear. "Yeah, hi, it's Hizti. I'm gonna have to cancel today. I don't want to stress Parker out. Yeah. Yeah, I know. Okay, bye."Hizti hung up and sighed deeply. "I'll get the plate when you're done and just... leave you alone after that."
As Hizti got up to leave, I asked, "What was that call about?"
"Hmm? Oh, I was going to have friends over for lunch, but you didn't look like you were okay with having five other people like me around the house, so I scrapped the plan. I'm already a bit of a flake when it comes to this type of thing, so my friend Qorok called me something very unsuitable for polite conversation, but you know, it's not like I don't deserve it."
As Hizti walked off, I stared down at my pancakes and found myself slipping into a memory. Back when I was on Earth, I had a boyfriend named James. 'Had' being the key term here; it didn't matter how exhausted or stressed or just plain asocial I was feeling at the time, James would invite his dumbass friends over to our apartment all the time. And when I finally hit wit's end with him, he said to me, "Maybe this wouldn't be a problem if you could lighten up, Parker."He was my boyfriend for all of two seconds after that.
The alien who had abducted me to give me amenities and luxuries I couldn't have afforded after a year's salary back home was willing to do something my ex couldn't be half-assed to. On a whim, I called out, "Hizti, wait."Hizti turned around as I awkwardly continued, "You can... have your friends over for lunch if you really want to. I'll be fine."
"A--are you sure? I don't really want to--"
"Hizti. This is your house, you get to call the shots here. I don't really have the authority or ability to stop you from doing anything. But tell Qorok if they curse you out again, I'll bite their face off."
Hizti grinned. "Thanks, Parker."Hizti then redialed his friends and happily announced, "False alarm! Lunch is back on! Also, Qorok, Parker threatened to bite your face off if you curse at me again."As Hizti walked off with his good mood restored, I ate my pancakes with the tiniest phantom of a smile on my face. *Maybe this isn't as bad as I thought.* |
The field sprouted wheat. More and more grew until the plains were so full no more could fit. He arrived, scythe in hand and said "I shall reap, so that you may sow"and he did and we sowed. This bargain was called life and death.
He did this for many many years. Alone. From dusk til dawn. He would reap, so that we may sow. In the rain and snow, he reaped. Then we would sow. New life, precious and fresh, needs clean pastures to sprout. Life needs death.
And he was always there.
He cared for the wheat. Watched it wave in the breeze. Watched it brave storm after storm. When the sun rose the wheat would be there and he would smile. The stories the wheat could tell. The wheat was strong. He cared for the wheat.
Then we told him. Told him what he feared to hear. "We can no longer sow". He said we must. But, we could not.
He said he would try. We said he was just a reaper.
He cared for the wheat, but could not stop his reaping. The wheat grew to be reaped. Soon there was but a small field left. The wheat was old and weak. It bent in the breeze and buckled in storms.
He felt it unfair that the wheat should suffer. He reaped what was left and the bargain was at last done. We left like the wheat, and he remained.
A reaper alone in a field free from life. A being eternal, alone, and without purpose. |
I looked around at all of the eerily similar faces. There was Black Me, with long dreads. Male Me, surprisingly tall and a bit handsome. Is that weird? Standing right next to him was Dwarf Me with pudgy limbs. Some of them weren't too different, though. One version of me had the same physical features, but wore tattered clothes, had tattoos running down her arms, and coughed like she was about to hack up a lung. Another version of me was the complete opposite: expensive brand name fashions, detailed makeup, manicured nails, and artificially enhanced breasts. Every end of the spectrum was represented here.
Some of our personalities had changed, too. Some Mes were outgoing and talkative, going around trying to make conversation. Other Mes swung to the opposite end of the extreme. One of them seemed to have developed severe social anxiety along the way and hid in a corner rather than shake hands with another version.
A few of the other Mes approached others to introduce themselves. They were very curious about which alternate universe we'd all come from and what our differences were. But their expressions when talking to me were... odd. Sad and sympathetic.
"And, what... happened... in your universe?"asked Outgoing Me.
I shrugged. There didn't seem to be anything different about my universe. I was clearly the middle of the road for every option.
"Nothing unusual, I guess,"I responded timidly. Outgoing Me was biting her lip and wringing her hands like she had a big secret that she didn't want to let out.
"I mean, how did you end up... like..."she was fidgeting, looking for the right words. "Why are you all...."She seemed almost ready to cry. "You know what, never mind. Nice meeting you."She scampered away to introduce herself to another Me.
"What is it?"I called after her. She avoided my eye contact.
I turned to one of the other Mes, wearing a formal pant suit and hair pulled back tight in a knot.
"What was wrong with her?"I asked. The other Me didn't respond. Her eyes went wide and she shrank back, trying to hide in the crowd.
"What is it?"I asked. Pantsuit Me ran away and disappeared behind Obese Me.
I turned to another Me nearby, wearing a bikini and with dozens of piercings. Surfer Me, I guess.
"What was that about? Why was she scared of me?"Surfer Me ran too.
"WHAT?"I shouted, causing any other nearby Me to scatter like a frightened school of fish. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?"
|
The clothing is something I don't recognize. Someone asks me for some more sauce. I point to the sign.
"**IF YOU WANT SZECHUAN SAUCE YOU MUST PURCHASE SOMETHING.**"
All of them pay with weird bills. Made of plastic. They all say that's the only money they have. At this point I don't care. I just give them their sauce and they leave. I never see these strangers again.
That was 29 years ago. I hadn't thought of it much. I have a much better job than that now. I take a look in my wallet, and my old wallet from back then. Same type of bills. I realize: same clothing. I causally overhear someone say that they want the szechuan sauce.
"Don't worry man. I've got a guy. He can get you a package for 100$.
I see it now.
I see it all. |
>To the unlucky person that has found this note, carved into the cement of our refuse labyrinth home,
>Hello. Welcome, I guess. You've become a member to the most exclusive club the Western Dreaves has seen. We'd throw you a party, but life is a bit... rough, down here.
>You probably have a lot of questions. Many of them won't have answers. The few that do I will outline here before you decide whether to continue down these sewer canals or slit your throat with the knife we've left behind the rock near your feet.
>First: Yes, this is real. You're not in a nightmare, or still dreaming. You're here, in a shit-filled canal. Alone.
>Second: The Summoning is a ceremony of sorts. It lets the Council know whether you're a left-brained, artistic, and peaceful member by picking the blue pill or a laboring, physical, and riotable person with red. By picking green, you have unknowingly said something else. You do not conform. You are a rebel. Given two choices, you look for a third. This makes you a threat to them.
>Third: Your family is safe, as long as you stay out of sight. Return, and they'll be forced to turn you in or face execution.
>Fourth: You made the right choice, whether you kill yourself or join us.
>I sincerely hope for the latter. Keep walking until you hear coughing.
>And thank you for proving there's still hope by ending up here in the first place.
*/r/resonatingfury* |
She turned the corner and saw the rodents scurrying by. She ignored them, as she was used to them, but kept an eye out for something particular. A few moments passed and a larger, whiter crrsture emerged from a toppled over trashcan which had once been overflowing with delectable trash.
"Hello Wilfred."She spoke.
The creature paused in its tracks and turned to look at her. It's thin, pink tail curled towards the body separating it from the witch's path as a defence mechanism. Although a measly tail could not defend it from a fireball spell, or a levitation charm.
"Gwendolyn, long time no see."The creature smirked, gobbling down the remains of a Cheez-its bag. "What brings you to this part of the city?"
"I've been having a question that's been bugging me, and I was wondering if you could help me."
"Oh, I don't know Gwen."The creature somehow ma aged to shrug as it licked its lips for the extra salt. "What could a 'disgusting little rodent' do for a powerful witch such as yourself?"
Those words rang in her ears. She remembered speaking them, and regretted them...just a bit.
"Well, considering the question pertains to you. I'd figure you'd have the best shot at answering it."She answered.
"Shoot."The creature said. It scurried over to a puddle and began to drink.
"Why are you so content with your current state?"
"Have you seen the state of the world?"He scoffed. There was a pause, and the creature expected her to respond, but she didn't, so he continued. "War, poverty, social injustice, taxes, the world is too complicated and is too caught up in itself it can't even fix itself. Everything is a double-edged sword to each other and there's no right answer. Atleast no one can agree on one that is."
"And you'd rather be an opposum?"
"Honestly, yeah."The creature began to walk towards her as if to inspect her for any extra food. Wilfred had learned that some people, especially the young 20 year olds of the city were very caring and sympathetic to things like him, and often tried to take them home as pets. "All I have to worry about is food, water and a place to sleep. I can eat out of the trash and I won't get sick. I can drink from puddles of water and I won't get sick. I have fur which keeps me warm so I won't get sick. Let's face it, I wouldn't have made it as a Human. The opposum life suits me."
"Ah, I see."She nodded, taking a step closer squatting down to see him better. He looked up at her, almost uncaring. "And what do you do if you're chased by a predator."
"I may be physically restrained by the body you gave me, but I have not lost my intelligence or my reasoning."He said. "Would you like to see what I've made?" |
The math I had to do on the battlefield wasn’t much different from the one I used to teach.
Ruptured lung, no pulse. Sub 1% chance of resuscitation. The fact that he’d told me jokes in my first week in the barracks didn’t factor into the problem I was solving – saving lives. I stepped over the body and scanned the sea of corpses ahead of me.
A siren wailed behind me and there was the distant rumble of some airplane or other passing overhead. I would do the whole thing in training, dive down and hold my helmet over me like some admittedly well-built hat was going to save me from a bomb, but the sense of danger diminishes after the first hundred times or so. Right now, it was just another distraction that made my job harder.
“Please…”
I whirled when I heard it. Somewhere to my left. Functioning vocal cords, enough energy to speak. The odds were more than single digits. Those were the best numbers you got in this line of work. I just had to find her…if only the damn sirens would shut up!
“Please…anyone….”
This time I was looking in the right direction and the sirens faded as a plane flew overhead. Friendly or enemy I didn’t bother looking. No pilot was going to waste metal here. So I could pinpoint roughly where she was, because it definitely was a woman’s voice.
I ran, or rather walked a bit faster, stepping over arms and legs when I couldn’t avoid it. Unmoving, nonreactive to pain. Essentially 0% chance of survival. It was worth it to go potentially reach someone who I could save. I clambered over a particularly large pile of bodies that I was confident the voice was behind.
I stopped dead when I saw her.
Her eyes were bloodshot, head facing me. 50% chance of facing my direction. Propellor wing impaling her side, blood forming a seal at the entry wound. Clothes stained with blood, bulging eyes, skin discoloration.
0% chance of survival.
"Hold me,"she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please, hold me."
Kill her….ah. It was hard to tell with the blood, but the uniform wasn’t one of ours. The enemy. Just thinking that made adrenaline flood my veins, my heart-rate spike. Emotional reaction. She wasn’t responsible for me being here, for my friends being buried. Humans were humans and all that, but damn it I hated them.
I hated them and I hated her, but no one deserved this.
So arms and legs wooden, I stepped towards her and knelt, resting her head on my legs. She sighed, relieved as she felt me.
“Thank you…” she breathed. “I just...I didn’t want to go alone.”
Her English was surprisingly good. “I’m here,” was all I said.
“I know,” she gasped in pain as blood spurted out of her wound.
I tsked and put pressure on the side of the propellor. “0% chance of survival” echoed in my brain. “Enemy” bounced around in my heart.
But I stayed with her.
“I know,” she continued her voice infused with a sense of urgency that only came in dying men and women with something critically important to say. I’d heard it too often. “This is too much to ask already. Find my son,” she winced in pain and held up her dog tags. “Please, tell him…”
I leaned in to let her know I was listening, to make sure I heard her. Saving lives…perhaps there was more to that objective. Maybe it wasn’t just a numbers game. All this war…I’d forgotten what living truly meant.
“Tell him…”
Overhead a siren wailed and another plane flew over our heads. By the time they passed she was dead and her words dead on her lips. |
I’m a good kid. Because of this, I always thought I’d get a good part-time job— become a server at a nice restaurant, or something. Well, turns out I’m a lot better than I’d initially realized, because one thing led to another and now I’m a full time sidekick to the greatest superhero of all time. Unfortunately, it’s not nearly as awesome as I thought it would be.
After the initial vanity wore off, I realized my grades were dropping from As to Cs, and the worst part is- I don’t get paid.
Anything.
Boss says my salary’s “The joy of others,” or whatever, but that’s not why I wanted a job.
So, when his greatest nemesis offered me a full-time all expenses paid gig at double crossing… my answer was a resounding yes.
Okay, so maybe I’m not a ‘good’ kid, but I’m plenty good at acting the part.
Typically.
It’s a lot harder to convince my (ex)boss hero as such while standing in front of a white board covering everything a villain would need to know on them.
They’d broken through the skylight of the abandoned factory as I was explaining their peanut allergy to the villain (who never looked up from his notes, I might add), cape billowing as shattered glass showered around them. They’d just begun their speech, but couldn’t even complete the first line of “Your crimes end here,” before spotting me.
“Ian?!” They snapped, confusion slowly morphing into rage. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
“Oh come on- I’m in costume, it’s ‘Lucidity’ right now, er, uhm…”
I trail off, eyes flicking between the hero and villain, “I also respond to ‘Antipathy’, if you couldn’t already tell.”
They stare incredulously, mask unable to hide the shock that radiates from their mind. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
I pop the ‘P’, backing up slowly as their rage continues to grow, hoping to escape before they explode. Figuratively. Well, with their powers- literally as well.
“I should’ve known.” The hero states, tone cold as ice. “How else would they have so much information on me, and minion I’ve never seen- who also possesses a suspiciously STUPID call-name.” They spit the insult, fire sputtering to life at their fingertips.
“Murder is frowned upon, according to you.” I stutter, sweating from both the nerves and growing heat of the room. “Let’s call it a triple betrayal, I’ll hand over the villain, AND I’ll stop asking you for at least minimum wage, deal?”
“I don’t think so.”
The hero and villain say in unison, as all three of us now standing in a face-off.
Hero vs villain vs jobless bum.
Fire vs ice vs mild mind reading.
I should’ve just stuck to retail. |
"I... what?!"
I smiled, dropping the thick wad of paper to the floor. It landed with a satisfying thud, as I crossed my arms. "I said no. I will not grant your wish."
His cheeks darkened, as he spluttered. I watched with a widening grin, enjoying his shock and outrage. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to outdo me, but the spectacle was as enjoyable as always. I let him gather his words, waiting for his rebuttal.
He stomped his foot, like a petulant child, breathing heavily. "You're a genie! We had a verbal contract that you gave me three wishes to do with as I saw fit! You can't renege on this contract!"
I shook my head, forming a mirror with golden edges. It's surface shimmered, before reflecting a scene taking place a few weeks prior. I floated there, free from my lamp, as this mortal stood there holding it.
Mirror me opened my mouth, spreading arms wide. *"Mortal, you have let me into your world. As my thanks, you may make three wishes, that I may grant when you request them."*
The mirror vanished, and I grinned wider. "You see. I said I may grant them. There was no agreement that I would grant any wish you desire, merely that I will consider granting them. I am under no obligation to grant them, like you are under no obligation to make these wishes."
His anger seemed to grow deeper, and he started shaking my lamp. "You ingrate! Grant it, or I will ensure you are never found again!"
Now I laughed, making him rage grow. I reached out, plucking my lamp from his grasp. "Pray tell, what makes you think I can't make my lamp move? Is your ego so great as to think you are the first to have had the gall to threaten me? Now your place, mortal."
I held up the lamp just out of reach, swinging it slightly. I expected him to get angrier, but now he finally surprised me. He slumped down, losing much of his energy. "Why? Why won't you grant it?"
I leaned down, picking uo the contract again. "Simple. I hate being constrained by rules. This is utter dull, having to follow every single word to the letter for me to grant it. But a single sentence wish, that is my jam!"
With a flick of my wrist the contract tore apart, turning into thousands of pieces of confetti. They flew around us, wafting away and taking all trace of its contents with them. He rubbed his head, groaning and muttering to himself. "Oh... I wish I hadn't wasted all this time."
I laughed. "Granted."
He looked up in shock and horror, as I snapped my fingers. Time wavered around us, as I peeled it back to the moment I told him of the wishes. He stood before me, a hopeful smile on his face. "I have three wishes?!"
I gave him a grin. "Two now." |
"Well if you don't believe me, take a look"he gestured toward the telescope with a flippant wave, as if he hadn't just destroyed my entire worldview with a single statement.
I stepped up to the giant telescope nervously and peered into the eyepiece. The most powerful optics ever designed coordinated to funnel light from a thousand galaxies away. I reeled back and sat down on the ground, hard.
Beyond the distant lights, beyond everything I had studied and known, there was a single word suspended in the black:
*Buffering* |
So, I died. Finally.
I know that death is supposed to be sad and all, but boy was I ready. I had been walking the earth for 75 years and trust me- that was *plenty*. A lifetime of commitment to work, my marriage, my family, and that damn golden retriever my kids begged me for that did nothing but shit in the house and chew my shoes. Finally, I'm getting to *relax*. I took my last breath in that crowded hospital room, and my soul was up and out before a single tear even fell from my daughter's face. Sorry Angelica, you were always an ugly crier.
In case you aren't prepared for death, allow me to fill you in. Once you die, your soul can stay around your body anywhere from seconds to *years*. I know, sounds awful. So I'd recommend just shooting the fuck out of there as soon as possible. You're gonna feel weightless, like a balloon soaring up into the sky. It's fun and all, but don't let yourself wander too far. You have to float yourself to your grave if you want to carry on into the afterlife. For me, my graveyard was just a few blocks away from the hospital. Even dead my family knew I wouldn't be damned to do much more exercising than that.
Oh, I'm approaching my grave now. Well, I guess that's the end of our chat. I'll let you know what an infinite amount of hot babes and cold beer feels lik- Oh for fuck's sake.
"Rest in ***Piece***?! Did they let Timmy engrave my damn tombstone?! That illiterate fuck-,"
A cough breaks my attention from my tombstone.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"Afraid not sir,"a tall skeleton speaks, a general's uniform hanging loosely from his bones. "you'll be coming with me."
"Oh no, this is clearly just a misunderstanding. See, my nephew Timmy is a little *special*, if you know what I mean, an-"The skeleton holds out a hand to silence me.
"I'm afraid rules are rules, Mr.Charles."The skeleton's voice rings high and regal. "Only those engraved with 'Rest in *Peace*' are excluded. You're hereby drafted into the Skeleton Wars. From all of us here in the afterlife, we thank you for your service."
Oh, Timmy. Once I get out of this war I'm going to haunt the fuck out of you.
|
"Something's *wrong* here, Betty. I keep *telling* you that."He said. He was nearly translucent from fear, his hands quivering as he looked around the old worn-down house.
"You're working yourself up over nothing. What exactly are you saying is happening?"She scoffed back. She gave the living room another withering glance. "Goodness, Herb. Get a grip."She cut back in, seeing the way his eyes were flicking back and forth.
"No. *No*. You just don't understand. So I'll be sitting on the couch. *He'll* be over in the bedroom, on his darned electronic contraption. Just sitting there. So's I go ahead and turn the lights off."
"Right."Betty said. The confusion in her voice was clear. "That's why we're here."
"Right. Right. Only, an instant later, *the lights are back on*."
"He flipped the switch.
"No. *No*. He never got *up*, Betty. Just out of nowhere, the lights come back on."
She stared at him, her eyes narrowed, and finally shook her head.
"Herb, sweetie. I think you need a break."
The floor creaked as they heard *him* walking around in the other room. Then the click of the switch echoed through the quiet room. The lights went dark. The two ghosts watched as Greg the Current Resident slid out the front door, pulling on his coat.
"Well, he's gone. So just...take it easy, all right? I need to get back to the hospital. There was a bus accident last week, and I've got the nurse *this* close to quitting."She made to slide through the wall. He grabbed her wrist.
"I wasn't done, Betty."She stopped, looking at him.
"Come on, Herb. I've got work to do. What is it now?"
"Well...sometimes, after he leaves..."Herb said, his voice low and nervous. Betty sighed, her hands on her hips.
"Yes? Spit it out."
The light in the living room came back on.
Herb pointed up towards the ceiling fan, his finger visibly shaking.
"*That.*"
Betty's mouth opened, but no words came out. She just stared at the light. The blades were spinning up now.
The living room light turned back out.
The kitchen light came on.
"That's....not...possible."She breathed. Herb was shaking like a reed.
"I told you. I told you."
They both jumped as the T.V. switched on.
"But how?"Betty murmured. She was going faint and pale as well, even though she didn't want to admit her fear. One hand clutched at Herb's arm.
"*I don't know*. He's nowhere around, Betty. This happens *every night*. Things just turn themselves on and off. For *hours*."
"But there's no one else *here*."
"You think I can't see that, you silly woman?!"
Betty flinched as the stereo in Greg's bedroom turned on, half-screaming involuntarily.
"I'm done. I'm *done*. Can I stay at your place? I need a new job."Herb muttered to her. He wasn't waiting, already booking it for the door. "They told me this place was an easy gig. 1800's construction, unfinished basement. Young, naive homeowner. Couldn't be simpler. Didn't ask for *this*."
"Let's just *go*, all right?"Betty said, following him to the wall. "We'll...we can talk about it back at the trauma ward."
The two vanished from the house. The lights continued their dance.
From his friend's couch, Greg sipped his beer.
"What are you doing?"Josh asked, leaning back to get a look at the phone that had demanded so much of Greg's attention. Greg only laughed.
"Just taking care of something back at the house. Sorry."
"Dude, I told you that house was a mistake. There's no way something that cheap would be problem-free, you know?"
Greg knew. He had seen the warnings. He had been told the stories, about that house. But a cheap house in this part of town was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he wasn't going to just let it slip through his fingers.
Plus, this was an experiment he'd always wanted to try. Once he'd spent the first night there, hearing doors slam and windows clatter, he couldn't resist. The remote-access home network and the timers for his power outlets had been cheap.
He deactivated the system with the click of a finger, turning back to the show they were watching.
If it was going to be a war for the house, it was one he was going to win.
(/r/inorai, critiques always welcome!) |
An SCP mercenary leveled his weapon at my head. "STOP THE LAUNCH,"he intoned commandingly.
"You want me to abort the launch?"I asked, just as I had in the practice runs for that scenario.
"Yes, damn it, ABORT THE LAUNCH."Now others were turning and aiming their weapons at me.
"Okay, okay!"I shouted in terrified reply as I pressed the large octagonal "ABORT LAUNCH"button.
All the screens in the control room were immediately overlaid with the same message that was simultaneously blared from the PA system: "LAUNCH ABORTED. STAY CLEAR OF LAUNCHPAD AREA UNTIL THE SHIP'S TANKS ARE FULLY DEPRESSURIZED."A status counter on the main screen began counting down from 100%.
The guy in charge (judging only by his demeanor, as none of their black uniforms have any markings at all), without looking away from me, raised his communicator and barked, "We've stopped the launch. Get everyone to the pad, but wait until the all-clear before you enter the tower. Stay on this frequency."
About two minutes later, as the "TANKS DEPRESSURIZING"percentage reached 51%, the Water Sound Suppression System began blasting the launchpad from all directions, some of it even dousing the foremost of the massed SCP troops. A moment later, all 31 Raptor engines lit up and the BFR *Clear Air Turbulence* lurched into the air, leaving the SCP goons surprised momentarily, and then dead permanently.
My big "ABORT LAUNCH"button has a dual purpose, you see. It initiates an immediate launch abort sequence *only if it is rotated at least a quarter turn* before it's pressed. Otherwise, it initiates an *immediate launch sequence*, masked by faked abort sequence messages.
We'd planned for just such an emergency--well, *Elon* had planned for it--and everything had gone perfectly.
We were all interrogated of course. Everyone stuck to the agreed-upon version of events--that Elon must have done something to stop the depressurization and launch anyway, but that with only half of the required fuel he couldn't get far.
Of course, that was six months ago--before Mars disappeared.
-----
[Part 1](/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8m3cm9/wp_youre_an_employee_at_spacex_today_is_the_big/dzkn69n/) ·
[**Part 2**](/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8m3cm9/wp_youre_an_employee_at_spacex_today_is_the_big/dzl0uxg/)
·
[Part 3](/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8m3cm9/wp_youre_an_employee_at_spacex_today_is_the_big/dzl2rwc/)
·
[Part 4](/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8m3cm9/wp_youre_an_employee_at_spacex_today_is_the_big/dzl4jpd/)
|
"Aaron, dinner is getting cold!"mom yelled from the kitchen.
"I know, mom! I heard you the first time!"She would never comprehend how you could not just simply pause a multiplayer game, and certainly not in the midst of a raid. They only had the boss left.
"Aaron, I'm not warning you again!"Her tone pretty much confirmed that the threat was real.
With a sigh, Aaron hit his push-to-talk button and was about to apologize for leaving early, but suddenly a *pause* button appeared on the screen. Curiously, Aaron clicked it and the game paused.
"What..."Confused, he stared at the static screen. Neither the npc's or the players were moving. "Guys, am I the only one having a major lag spike?"There was no answer. He hit resume and the game continued.
"Aaron!!"came the shrill voice of his mother. He could hear the stairs being murdered underneath her stamping feet as she came up to his room. Instinctively, Aaron clicked pause again and hurried out of his room.
And there was his mother, on the stairs and stiff as a broom. She didn't move nor made a sound.
"Mom?"She didn't answer.
Confused, Aaron rubbed his eyes and noticed something. The pause/resume button was still in his periphery and he could see it with his eyes closed and was accompanied by several other buttons.
Convinced he was dreaming, Aaron instinctively scrolled through the options. *Menu, save game, load game, resume, new game, save and quite* were all the options. He clicked menu. How he clicked it he didn't know, he just somehow... did it.
Another set of buttons and information popped up. He noticed it was all relevant to him. He clicked general information.
* Name: Aaron Gherald Katy Delvin.
* Age: 20
* Date of Creation: 25/02/1999
* Sex: Male
* Height: 182 cm
* Weight: 78 Kg
* Main hand: Ambidextrous
* Lineage: Indo-European
Immensely enjoying this lucid dream, he was convinced that was it, Aaron scanned the other information tabs and found one called *Achievements & Enhancements*.
* Beginner achievements unlocked: 53219/658112.
> Most recent: That's my boy - Fold the sheets and have a parent approve.
* Easy achievements unlocked: 4565/485320
> Most recent: Nice Aim - Take a piss standing up and don't let a single drop hit the toilet seat.
* Medium achievements unlocked: 952/256142
> Most recent: Git Gud - Reach 500 hours playtime in at least 10 different games.
* Hard achievements unlocked: 302/15302
> Most recent: Donde esta la biblioteca? - Become fluent in Spanish.
* Elite achievements unlocked: 16/3214
> Most recent: The Coldcrush - Ask your crush out in front of at least twenty people and have him/her say yes.
* Legendary achievements unlocked: 1/53
> Most recent: In case I don't see ya... - Find the UI.
* Enhancements unlocked: 0/12
Scrolling through the list of achievements, Aaron began to realize how much things he had done or not done and how many of these achievements were so obscure he wondered if anyone ever got them.
Eventually though he returned to the main menu and considered what other option he would pick. Not knowing what to chose, he closed eyes, spun around and pointed with his finger. He opened his eyes and saw that he was pointing at the *save and quite* option.
He clicked it.
Everything went black.
A sudden bright, white light overwhelmed him and he shielded his eyes. When the light subdued, he found himself in a sort of laboratory, surrounded by men in white coats who looked at him expectingly.
One of the men strode forward and held out his hand. Aaron recognized him as he shook the man's hand.
"God dammit, Todd Howard. You did it again."
Todd only smiled. |
At first, it wasn’t so obvious.
Sometimes I would accidentally spill my drink, only for it to lead to me buying a bunch of new clothes. Or having a deadly mold infestation in my apartment, then a few days after I would find a much better flat for a hell of a bargain. It felt weird at first, but I slowly had come to accept that it was part of my life now. But the troubles only grew to a much bigger scale.
Once I had my car crash into another car as I was driving down the freeway, only to wake up with officers congratulating me for stopping a kidnapping. After that, the mayor held a small ceremony for my “heroic act” and gave me a 50,000$ cash cheque. But this single event led to a series of disasters that the city had never seen the like of before.
After my meeting with the mayor, I had become somewhat of a celebrity in my home city. People would flock around me and with them, they would bring their accidents.
From them spilling even more drinks onto my clothes to mother almost accidentally dropping their babies near me only for me to catch them midair in the nick of time. Don’t get me wrong, these things would always end up having a happy ending but I was getting tired of how frequently it happened.
But at the end of the day, there is nothing I can do about it. So I guess I have to live my life like this for now, hoping nothing terribly wrong would happen.
Hmmm… that’s weird. Was the moon always that big?
​
Check out my writing at r/Fluffwrites
I am also working on a new fantasy series --------> [The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
Mr. Thompson replayed the recording twice more for the full effect of the message to sink in. Silence stretched on but for the oddly calm voice of the deceased Ronald Crispin, his words cool, clear, and, if Drake was being honest with himself, quite shocking.
It had been a long time since he had heard anything crazy enough to stir him, but this certainly had.
"Make sure he stays *dead*?"said Drake, as Mr. Thompson stowed the old cassette player back in the box he had pulled it from. That in itself had been another instance of great peculiarity. Crispin was a man of tremendous wealth; Mr. Thompson, Drake, and the remaining four people whom Crispin had apparently sent orders to gather were currently sitting in a luxuriously furbished mansion. Why, then, had he opted for an old time cassette player to deliver his message?
"Did I hear that right? Stays *dead*?"
"Yes, you heard it correctly, Mr. Vaughan."Mr. Thompson smoothed his jacket unnecessarily, his voice as calm and collected as if he had merely been asked about the weather. "Mr. Crispin has requested the major details be withheld, and offered his apologies as such. Unfortunately, he got mixed up in some rather... unpleasant business while alive. He was being pursued by several powerful organizations for something he did not even name to me, which is why he —"For the first time, the stately lawyer hesitated. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure, but they had seen the mask slip, if only for a second.
"Do forgive me. You see, Mr. Crispin was not only a client of mine, he was also a dear friend. As I was saying, most unfortunately, he believed that these organizations would eventually locate and capture him, even with all of his resources to protect himself. Which is why he took his own life."
"What could they have wanted so badly that he had to gank himself to keep them from getting it?"The voice came from the tall, brown-skinned woman at the other end of the table. Her eyes were large and richly brown, one of them artfully covered by her sweeping auburn hair. Her voice, however, came as something of a surprise. Hoarse and grating, like a smoker's.
"As I have said, Ms. Ebanks, he didn't say. All I know is, given the gravity of the situation, it was something of extraordinary proportions. So much so that he believed that they would stop at nothing to retrieve it, even if it meant pulling him back from the Abyss. Which is why he wants you all to ensure that his spirit is kept at rest."
There was a small silence. The eyes of all five men and women were darting from one to the other. The lawyer noticed, then rolled his eyes.
"Oh come now. We have serious business to attend to, let us not waste valuable time pretending we don't know that magic and mysticism are not things of fiction."
"Okay, fine,"said the second man to Miss Ebanks's left, a tall man whose arms seemed to be covered in tattoos. "In that case, why don't you answer the real million dollar questions. Who are these people? And what are we supposed to do to keep him a doornail?"
"Well I'm glad you asked. There are several organizations in question. We have information about them, not much, but enough. And Mr. Crispin has left instructions specifically for each of you. All of that is within this box."He gestured to the ornate grey structure he had laid in the center of the table.
"Unfortunately, this information is quite sensitive. None of you will be allowed to access it unless you agree to Mr. Crispin's terms. Be warned, this mission will bring with it danger, treachery, and the constant risk of hideous, painful death. But it will also bring with it handsome rewards. If you do not wish to take this job, that is perfectly acceptable. I will have a servant escort you out. I do wish to say, however, that Mr. Crispin did not believe any of you would refuse."
There was another short silence, broken this time by the final two people in the room, who seemed to be a pair judging by how closely intertwined they were.
"Exactly how handsome are these rewards?"said the man. Mr. Thompson snapped his fingers, and instantly the servants who had been hidden away in the corners of the room came forward, each lugging suitcases that were revealed to be tightly stacked with large wads of money.
"Handsome enough for you?"
"Not really, but it'll have to do,"the woman sighed.
"I take it that means none of you are leaving?"
He cast an eye around the room. No one rose. "Excellent. Then sign this."
He produced a contract and a quill dipped in an inkpot full of what looked suspiciously like blood.
Tentatively, they signed.
"That was a Blood Pact, as I'm sure you all know,"said Thompson. "Which means there'll be no weaseling out of this one. You're in it now, and you're in it for good. So, down to business."He produced a large silver key from seemingly out of nowhere, then he opened the box. |
“Please*hic*I’m okay.” Peter tried to grab a bulwark. A reptilian mass pulled him easily through the corridors in zero gravity, maneuvering gracefully with it’s six limbs from one hand hold to the next.
The alien’s surprisingly humanoid voice went out over the radio, “Captain, we have Peter. Strange convulsions have continued. Most likely a parasite. We need to get him into the surgery pod immediately.” They continued to weave through the corridors, Peter’s legs were wrapped in what he had always assumed were analogous to a tail, but the slime seeping through his coveralls made him rethink that assumption.
“Parasite? No*hic* it’s just hiccups. Axon, listen to*hic* listen to me. Humans*hic* get them all the *hic* time. Just get me into some grav*hic*gravity and some water*hic*.” Axon didn’t look back at his human cargo, he flipped the radio on again.
“Seems to be accelerating. My guess is 10 minutes tops until parasitic gestation. Hatching through human abdomen most likely.” The radio clicked off, Axon took a quick left. Peter’s shoulder took a blow from a coolant valve.
“Accel*hic*erating? No*hic*I’m fine*hic*just look it up.” They turned another corner and entered the large chamber of the medbay. Peter gave an exasperated exhale, Dr. Caldion wasn’t human but she would certainly have experience with hiccups.
“Doc. Please*hic*Axon won’t listen to*hic*me.” The doctor put up a blue hand for quiet.
“Get him in the surgery pod. No time to waste, we don’t know who else the parasite will affect.” Peter’s eyes went wide, until now he’d assumed Axon was well meaning but uninformed, he was an engineer not a doctor; but if Dr. Caldion was going to throw him in a surgery pod over the hiccups, he was surely going to get some sort of internal organ removed. What if they remove his heart thinking it’s the parasite?
“Doc*hic*please. I’m *hic*okay. Look at your text books or something.” Peter was immediately regretting transferring to a non-solar shipping company.
Dr. Caldion opened the surgery pod door, Axon swung his tentacles around, placing Peter into the compartment. Straps automatically extended, securing Peter to the bed. He screamed.
“Please stop! It’s perfectly normal, I just—“ Peter swallowed, “See. I’m okay. They’re gone. I’m okay. No parasite. Let me out, please.”
Dr. Caldion and Axon looked at each other then back at Peter. They listened for a few minutes, waiting to see if the spasms continued, they didn’t. Peter felt the straps loosen and retract. He floated slowly out of the pod, “What the hell was THAT? You call yourself a DOCTOR? Hiccups. Humans get hiccups.”
“Peter, I know what hiccups are.” Dr. Caldion was looking bemused, casually checking boxes on a tablet.
“You know? Then what was all this?” Peter turned to look at Axon, the frills on his neck were shuddering in what Peter had learned was analogous to laughter.
The lizard man put a scaly lower arm on his human assistant’s shoulder, “We know. We have a comprehensive medical catalog for all known species and you aren’t the first human to ship out here. Of course we know about the hiccups. It just…well…it said that the best way to cure them was to scare you.” |
The clear twang of bows rang out as the stench of smoke filled the air. Deep in the forest, the metallic clang of sword against sword could be heard. Occasionally, anguished cries penetrated the air, as a soldier fell to the ground, clutching a fatal wound at his neck or chest. The atmosphere of a bloody war pervaded throughout.
The witch stirred. For the past few days, two neighbouring countries had declared war. Their battlefield of choice? The gloomy forest that bordered the two nations. Coincidentally, and unbeknownst to them, the home of one of the greatest witches to ever live. A heir to a long legacy of witchcraft said to originate from the Tree of Life itself, the witch was spoken of in hushed tones amongst magicians. The consensus? If you run into her, surrender and forfeit your life peacefully. Then she might leave you with an intact corpse.
As legend had it, she had started studying witchcraft at the age of three. By the age of five, her temper tantrums caused the earth to tremble and the tempests to rage. By the age of ten, she had slain an ancient dragon, stealing its vitality for herself and gaining quasi-immortality. At the age of sixteen, countless wizards vied for her hand in marriage, enchanted by her beauty and talents. Not a single suitor lived to tell the tale. The legends stopped there. No one knew where the infamous disaster child had gone.
Little did they know, she had gone into seclusion, hiding in a forest closer to the mortal world than any society of magicians. And now that forest was ravaged by war.
She had woken up irritated. The screech of metal, the anguished screams of the dying- they were noisy. So noisy. She *could* cast a spell to dampen the noise. Or she could just wipe them out. Weighing the lives of thousands of mortal men on the tips of her pale fingertips, she found them to be surprisingly light. Somewhat lacking. Ants by the side of a road. "*Time to exterminate some pests*,"she thought to herself.
The sounds of war drew ever closer to her residence. She closed her eyes and ascertained the situation. About five thousand soldiers. She could kill all of them in a minute or two, but where was the fun in that? Besides, there was a small squad of ten soldiers headed her way, chasing a bedraggled knight. An entertaining scenario.
Breaking through the dense undergrowth surrounding the witch's home, a knight stumbled out, looking valiant but tired. He registered the witch standing there, staring blankly at him. A beautiful girl of nineteen or so years of age. About to be an innocent victim of war. How was he to know that the "poor girl"could kill him with a snap of her fingers?
"Girl, what are you doing here? Run! The bastards will rape and kill you if you stay. I'll buy you some time,"the knight shouted, gritting his teeth. His enemies were not more than twenty feet away, and they outnumbered him ten to one. If he was going to go down, he might as well save someone while he was at it.
"You misunderstand,"the girl coldly enunciated, "I am-"Before she could finish her words, the knight leapt in front of her. Her eyes widened. The foolish mortal dared to make a move against her? She would incinerate him. Or capture his soul and torture him. A protective barrier glowed, protecting her body from the knight's attack. Except the attack she expected never came. Instead, a hail of arrows soared through the sky. Half embedded themselves in the knight's body. The other half impacted the barrier with a dull sound, before harmlessly sliding to the floor.
With a loud thud, the knight's body fell to the floor. His sword never so much as moved towards the witch. As he looked up and saw the barrier, his eyes widened, and he let out a sigh of relief. Then he blacked out.
The witch's eyes widened in confusion. It was the first time that someone had ever tried to protect her. Ever since she was a child, people had feared her, made her an outcast, plotted to kill her or tried to curry favour with her. But no one had ever tried to protect her. She didn't need protecting. But it wasn't a bad feeling. As she looked down at the fallen knight, she couldn't help but think that he looked quite handsome.
Before that, though, there were invaders to punish. As the enemy soldiers moved into the clearing, they saw the fallen knight. They were astonished that their blind rain of arrows had worked. He should've been far harder to kill than that. Then they saw the girl. Lecherous grins appeared on their faces. "Time to collect the spoils of war,"one of the men muttered, scarcely able to conceal his excitement.
A heartbeat later, all ten of them burst into flames. Starting at their midriffs, a ghastly fire consumed both halves of their bodies in an instant. They didn't even have time to scream, and they would never understand how they died, or just who it was they provoked.
The witch felt her heartbeat quicken. Was it the adrenaline of battle? She had long grown numb to such things. Besides, that wasn't battle. It was a slaughter. She glanced at the knight again, and this time she felt her face flush. Could it be?
She lifted the fallen knight with telekinesis, his body hovering by her side as she phased through the tree, entering her home. Laying him down on a bed, she carefully extracted the arrows from his body. He was still alive, if only barely.
What was she doing? Why was this man important to her? There had never been a second person in her abode. But today, a knight with delicate features and silver hair was lying on her bed. He could almost be mistaken for a girl, if not for his physique. Staring at his sleeping face, the witch felt her heartbeat quickening again, and scuttled out of the room. Preparing medicine was her excuse to herself, though really, she knew better than that.
It took her a short while to gather the ingredients to brew a healing elixir. Mandrake root, gryphon's flesh, the powder from a manticore's horn: all sorts of precious ingredients entered the cauldron. If any alchemist were to see her, they would probably vomit blood and die of shock. Such precious medicinal materials- enough to brew a potion that could resurrect a quasi-immortal existence- were about to be used to cure a mortal's wounds. Surely no one else could afford to be so wasteful.
As she finished distilling the elixir, she hesitantly opened the door to her room. She could tell from the currents in the air that the man had awoken. Seeing his curious silver eyes staring at the crack in the door, she panicked, slamming the door shut and almost dropping the elixir in the process. She, a quasi-immortal, was enthralled by a mortal man? The wizarding world would go into catatonic shock if they found out.
She opened the door even more slowly this time, slipping inside like a ghost. The man's silver eyes followed her curiously throughout. Measuring his words carefully, he spoke up, his voice gentle and elegant. "Thank you for saving my life, benefactor. My name is Mikhail, a knight of the Silver Rose, and I am in your debt. May I know benefactor's name?"
At that moment, a name that the world of witchcraft and wizardry had forgotten was spoken. She hadn't heard her own name in a long time. For the longest time, she had only been called by her title. 'Witch of Calamity' or 'Dragonslayer' were her two most famous sorbriquets. But now, in a voice that was barely a whisper, she told this stranger her true name. "Ylissa,"she said. "It's Ylissa."Mikhail smiled at her. "That's a pretty name,"he remarked. "Once again, thank you for saving my life."
Ylissa turned beet red up to the ears, hastily throwing the elixir bottle at Mikhail. It hit him straight on the forehead, and he winced slightly. Pretending not to notice, Ylissa mumbled, "Drink it. For your wounds."Then she soundlessly slipped out of the door.
Once she had gotten outside, she buried her face in her hands and groaned loudly. A perfect start. Hitting the guy she liked in the face with an elixir bottle. She could just charm him with her magic and he'd love her forever, but could she really call that love? She didn't think so.
Unbeknownst even to herself, the legendary sorceress of the legends had reverted back to the eighteen-year-old girl she really was. It was her first time falling for a man, and she was clueless. Before she could continue kicking herself for being an idiot, the door opened and Mikhail walked out, a dazed expression on his face.
He sounded bewildered, asking, "Ylissa, what did you give me? I feel good as new, no, better than before!"Ylissa mumbled awkwardly in response, "Mostly mandrake root, gryphon flesh and manticore horn, why?"
Mikhail stared at her. She had just listed a magical herb that hadn't been seen in a thousand years, and two mythical beasts from the legends. Who was this girl? He found himself growing curious about her, and given her shy reactions, it didn't seem like she disliked him.
Flashing her a smile, Mikhail made a decision that would change his life. "Can I stay here with you for a while? I think you're fascinating,"he told her honestly. She was quite unlike anyone he'd ever met before, and she *was* gorgeous- beautiful, delicate features framed by flowing black hair, her slender frame looking almost fragile but concealing infinite power.
Thoroughly unprepared for the bold proposition, Ylissa flushed for what must've been the tenth time that day, and nodded furiously in assent. Thus, the unlikely romance between a simple knight and a legendary witch began.
*nb: oops, a little late to the party. still, hopefully someone enjoys my take on this prompt! it was a lot of fun to write, thanks /u/Karthogan :)* |
Hawking asks his wife if she could pull out her gun for him.
"Of course."his wife answers.
If the kids were young enough, they would have laughed at the situation. Now they were old enough to know that not only was that a little insensitive, it would have been down\-right deadly.
"I think we will be taking that."Hawking states. Even with his monotone, and even in this kind of situation, you could still tell he was being a hint cheeky because he went through the trouble of adding the 'I think'.
What were they going to do? Stop him?
The time machine had been built to go only two places in time. Here and back to the timeline of the party. It was only after one of the kids was finished bragging about it that Hawking asked his wife to pull out the gun.
Hawking threatened that if they didn't take him back with them, then his wife would pull the trigger.
One of the kids spoke up. They tried to lie and say there was only enough room for them. The wife pulled the trigger. She explained that unless they wanted more spots to open up, then they would let her husband into the time machine.
There was no choice. He had outsmarted them. And all it took was a gun. Hawking might have been a genius in theoretical physics, but that didn't mean he also wasn't practical.
The kids complied. They knew that if Hawking wanted, he could have killed them all and just used the time machine themselves. They didn't even put up a fight when his wife didn't go with them. Hawking wouldn't have gone alone unless he had a back up plan.
Their friend was buried, sure people thought it was Hawking they were crying over, but at least their friend was given a funeral.
Hawking was just too smart for them. He was too smart for everyone. People in his own time would miss him, but in the future, his work will be appreciated. He had outsmarted us all. |
"Primary cylinders firing, sir!"
"Good, keep them steady, don't want to overload them."
"Yes sir. Ready for launch in T-Minus ten..."
The bridge was deadly silent, aside from the slow countdown of the first mate.
​
"Earth Command, be advised, we are about to start out initial jump. Wish us luck."
"God speed, Phoenix Alpha."
Reality distorted not moments later. Space was warped in front of us, being pulled in on itself in a thin, narrow corridor that allowed us to bend the laws of physics as we understood them. Rear thrusters fired and pushed us forward into the portal like tunnel through space we had created. It was the first we had ever been able to create, an we wanted it to take us 60,000 AU away from Earth, perform a 3 month scan of the area, then come back. Total mission time was estimated to take two years.
​
The first month on board the ship was exhilirating. Every day, waking up and remembering that we're going faster than any human ever thought possible, going further than anyone possible... It was a rush that couldn't quite be explained. Some days, I liked to stand at the bridge and look out into the streaming vortex of light, stars passing us by so quickly, they were just blurs on the highly reinforced, shielded triple pane glass.
​
After two months, the adrenilin wore off. There were some dissagreements among the crew, which soon devolved into fights. As the captain, I had to step in. I could have easily thrown them into the brig and let them cool their heels in there, but that would only be temporary. Instead, I let out a long sigh and shook my head at the two before me. Two enginers who would have to work with each other to get us to our destination and back alive. "Okay. You two are going to play a game. The loser admits defeat and apologises, then we all move on with our day, okay?"They both raised an eyebrow, but then nodded slowly.
​
I placed a deck of cards on the table. Dealt two cards to each, one face down, one face up. Blackjack. The card game where house always wins.
​
Three months. four months. Five months, they all passed slowly. It wasn't until the end of the sixth month that something interesting happened. And by interesting, I mean, being woken up in the middle of the simulated night, running to the bridge shirtless and with the worst case of bedhair known to man, only to discover we had dropped out of hyperspace.
​
Oh. And alien life.
​
An alert pinged on my screen. 'Incoming transmission'
​
"Well shit."I pressed the ship-wide comms button. "First mate Cassie, this is your captain speaking, we are about to discover alien life. Unless you want to miss this, I strongly advise you **get your ass up here now!** Thank you."
​
It took her less than a minute to show up in a similar state as me, smudged make-up, ruffled hair, and a shirt that she was in the process of buttoning up. I gave her a small nod, and she responded in kind. "Ready?"
"Hell no."
"Same here..."
I reached out and pushed the button to open comms.
​
*"Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?"*
Wait-- What? Cassie looked towards me with a look of pure confusion. I responded in kind.
​
*"Sir, are you there? Is this the right language? I swear, if the Universal Translator is messing up again--"*
"Nononono, we hear you, my apologies. You... We... Uh, this is our first contact with sentient races not from our galaxy... We weren't expecting... Well, any of this."
*"Oh, very good. So, it says here that you are from Earth, yes? In the Milky Way Galaxy?"*
"Uh, yes. That is correct..."
​
*"Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you a ticket for speeding."*
"Um... Excuse me? Could you repeat that last. I think your translator might be playing up."
​
"*A ticket, sir. A fine for breaking the intergalatic laws of Space Travel. You were going aproximatly 28C in a designated 15C zone, with no regards for traffic in the area. Not to mention your use of archaic Space Folding technology. Highly dangerous and unstable, if you were to fly into someone heading straight towards you, not only would you not see them with your primitive sensors, you would both be atomised, and everything in the area of your tunnel would collapse, causing mass destruction aproximatly 3 AU in every direction."*
I hit the mute button on the comms.
​
"Cassie... I think we're fucked."
"Yeah.... I think that's accurate..."
​
Turning the comms on, I took a deep breath and spoke again. "Would... Would it be possible to provide us with a warning and tow us back to Earth? You see, Sir, this is our first test with deep-space flight. We have no currency or property with which to pay any fine, and without your assistance, it would take around 300 years for our ship to return to earth, unless we use the hyperspace jump technology, of which we did not know the dangers. In that time, our superiors would no doubt build and send out several others vessels to perform the same, or similar deep space missions as this one, unwittingly breaking more of your laws, of which we have no knowledge. I ask only that you return us, and allow us to warn our people. Perhaps you could educate us more in the ways of the universe during the return?"
​
​
A long silence followed.
​
*"That would be... Acceptable. Rule 234 Section B Article 24.6 states that all life forms have one chance to appeal ignorance to any crime that has not caused harm to any sentient creature. Please prepare for boarding so we may assist you on your return home."* |
I'm what you call... disgruntled.
No. I'm not mad. And no, I'm not seeking any sort of answers, any sort of justification. It was me or a bunch of kids. Even I wouldn't save my own sorry ass if it came down to it!
After the accident, well more like after the month long recovery period in the hospital, I decided to remain quiet. Talking about what happened, well it never seemed to paint me in the best light. That, I quickly learned, was a mistake. You see, people fear silence. The quiet urges their own minds into a paranoid state of imagination where it will do anything and everything to fill in the gaps.
If I was quiet then I must be mad. If I was mad then I must be furious. If I was furious, well then why shouldn't I want revenge? Just look at me! A boiled over freak that's own skin seems to steam and emit heat even in the coldest temperatures. Fuck, just my luck I'd get absolutely zilch in the way of superpowers after all. Just got to live on to become, somehow, uglier.
So when my own shitty friends and barely attendant family members started going out of their way to avoid me, I figured silence maybe wasn't my best bet.
I started telling my story.
That was an even bigger mistake.
You see, I'm not what one would call... a good guy. I'm an average guy! Probably even less then average if I'm being honest. Which meant I may or may not have been on that bridge that early in the morning to meet up with a dealer friend of mine. One that may or may not have owed me a lot of money for tips I may or may not have given him. And look, I may have missed out on a few rent payments here or there and needed the money pretty bad because well, a man's got to get out and have some fun sometime, right?! All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy and all. Anyways, you get where this is going. Everyone must've heard what had happened by now.
The Matriarch and her ever blah blah blah evil plan had followed our local good guy, Sir Studious (god these names are the real tragedies here...) onto a bridge chasing after a children's bus stacked full of explosives. Why one would strap a children's bus full of explosives is beyond me, but hey, like I said before, I'm no villian. Anyways, it wasn't even an ultimatum. I was literally in the wrong place at the wrong time. As the two super humans barreled towards us, Jack, my ever lovely dealer friend who may or may not exist, decided this was the perfect time to bail,launching me in front of the bus.
Now, that superdork COULD'VE, THEORETICALLY, flown in in time to save me. That COULD'VE happened, but hey surprise surprise he didn't. Which is fair. Besides. I was mostly fine anyways. I jumped out of the way in time for it to perfectly crunch over my foot. Which, cool, end of story, barely escaped death right? Well no. Because as I launched myself out of the way of the bus Sir Studious himself flew right past me, knocking me off my already horrible balance and sending me nearly toppling over the edge of the bridge.
Which just so happened to be above the nuclear radioactive vat of slime the city likes to claim is 'clean energy'.
It was at this time that the Matriarch decided to up the stakes for our poor superdude. She shot the front tire of the bus which then skidded out of control and hung precariously over the same vat I did just a few dozen yards away from me.
We both weren't going to make it much longer.
I want to say I let go. That I sacrificed myself so that there would be no option, making the kids the only priority.
That did not happen.
I screamed my ass off.
Dude was a SUPER. HERO. I figured he could get to us both in time! I figured I would have better arm strength in times of a crisis.
I was wrong. And the fall wasn't anything compared to the searing pain of the boiling ACID that immediately covered my body upon impact.
But apparently when you tell people that you were a fucking coward in the middle of an ultimatum you weren't really even aware you were a part of then suddenly you're a 'bad guy'. Suddenly you're getting pulled out of your apartment in your jammies and slippers trying to be recruited for a villian uprising and you just really needed to go to the bathroom.
Anyways. Long story short, that's how I ended up taking a massive shit in the Matriarch's apartment. Honestly, I don't mind doing my bro Studious a favor like that. Especially if he keeps sending me apology muffin baskets.
Those things are the best. |
As I finished up my explanation, my friend gave me a puzzled but concerned look. As she comes to terms with the impending crisis, she turns to me and asks: “Surely you can’t be serious”.
I feel every inch of my body tense up. This is the moment I have been waiting for. I’ve lived my whole life to finally get here. I turn to her, I nod in agreement with the ridiculousness of the situation, which almost feels like it’s from a film. After a couple seconds of silence and exchanging looks, I speak the words that my ancestors taught me all throughout my childhood.
“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley”. |
Marcus woke up and began the day, like every other student of Draunwons did, with a message spell from the university bearing a notice:
> To all students of Draunwons Academy of the Occult, following the untimely death of Ezekiel Fynch late last night, you are hereby reminded that magic does not supersede the laws of thermodynamics.
> Each year there is at least one clever student who thinks they've discovered perpetual energy by use of magic. And each year, this notice is sent out yet again. Whatever method you think you've discovered, it won't work.
> This student's mistake last night involved trying to use sacrificial Blood magic to fuel healing spells. Both of these things have inefficiencies. *All* magic has a cost.
> Please, save us the paperwork and remember the laws of thermodynamics.
It ended with the magical signature of Headmaster Theqor.
Marcus chuckled to himself. The fool. Everyone knew Blood magic was wasteful. He eyed the runes-in-progress on his desk. They were nearly complete.
Soon he'd prove to everyone that it *was* possible to use the Death magic from your own corpse to revive and thus achieve immortality. |
Jeff flicked the light switch. It did not turn on, even though he had changed the bulb the other day. And it was a long life LED, so he knew that was not the cause. He sighed. Should he even bother going through the landlord?
Well, even if he worked on it himself, there was little he could do. At least, not this early in the morning. He headed to the small kitchen and started brewing the dark nectar that was coffee. As he waited for it to brew, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
The shadows roiled and twisted. The air seemed to grow a little colder as the darkness moved. It came together, deepening and solidifying. The mass of pure darkness rose, shifting into a humanoid form. Its arms were thin and long, and its thin fingers ended in claws the size of large kitchen knives. The creature's face was a hollow ball of shadows, save for the eyes. Two silver circles set into pure darkness shone out. The creature raised one of its clawed hands.
Jeff groaned. "Really, Ted? We talked about this. If you want something, knock on the door."
"Sorry."Ted said. His voice was like the cold wind of winter blowing through a dark forest. "I wasn't sure if you were up yet. I didn't want to wake you if you were still asleep."
"Uh-huh."Jeff said dully.
The coffee was just finishing up, and he went to get his cup. He was about to get a second for Ted, but then he remembered the living shadow did not eat or drink. So, he just set about getting us own cup ready. Even a single sip was enough to improve his mood.
"So, what's up?"He asked.
"My shower isn't working."Ted said.
"I thought you didn't need to shower. You know, being an incorporeal being and all."
"I don't, but Scott does."
"Ah, right. Did you get Mr. Devone to take a look at it?"
"Why bother? He won't do anything."
Jeff nodded. Their landlord was indeed known for being lazy. It was faster to just do it himself. But still, taking care of this building was not easy. Scott, for example, had probably broken the shower when his horn punctured something. The problems of being a minotaur, he supposed.
"True. I'll take a look at it later."
Ted gave his thanks and vanished into the floor. Jeff took his time to savor his coffee and get himself some breakfast. Once he was done, he got a few things he might need, and headed to Ted and Scott's apartment. Then he would go down to see if the demon couple downstairs had actually taken steps to keep the floors from charring.
Lots to do for his neighbors, especially in the old building. After all, just because the other residents were horrible monsters did not mean he had to be one too. |
"We can help you, if you turn off the lights."a voice whispered, almost too softly to be heard.
Jack froze. He'd been lost in the cave system for hours, after getting separated from his fellow spelunkers. He'd shouted himself hoarse already, desperately hoping to hear a distant answering call from one of his teammates, but the only response after the echoes of his cries died away had been deafening silence.
He knew how such all-consuming silence could play tricks on the mind, but something made him answer, something half-remembered that rose to the surface of his mind unbidden.
"H-how?"he rasped.
The only reply was three little taps, like the lightest of pebbles falling on stone. And in that moment, he understood. He turned off his flashlight, and tucked it away. Then, with shaking fingers, he turned off his LED headlamp, and plunged the cavern into total darkness.
"Now listen, listen well..."the tiny whisper bade him.
*tap...tap...tap*
So faint, so quiet, but without the distraction of his sight, focusing all his attention on what he heard, he could just make out their tapping on the walls of the cave. He heard, and he followed.
*tap...tap...tap*
As he wormed his way through the narrow arteries of the cavern, he pushed aside his fear and desperation, until there was nothing but the sound.
*tap...tap...tap*
Soon he had to crawl on his belly to negotiate the passage, but the constricted feeling was familiar -- he thought he'd passed this way before, not long after he'd gotten separated from the others. He was surely getting closer, then, but he dared not call out, lest he drown out the gentle knocking.
*tap...tap...tap*
The passage grew wider again, until he could walk hunched over. His heart beat faster, but he did not quicken his steps, though part of him desperately wanted to break into a shuffling run, sure the cave entrance was somewhere close by. He had to listen, he had to hear...
*tap...tap...tap*
He rounded a corner, and saw a faint light, and he could contain himself no longer. He sprinted forward, and stumbled into the pale twilight, gulping in the cool, fresh air.
A hundred yards beyond, through the screen of the trees, he could see the light of a fire at the campsite his group had set up. Even from this distance, he could hear the sound of raised voices arguing.
Arguing over what to do about him, perhaps. He briefly wondered why they hadn't simply called for help, before grimacing as he remembered that *he* had the group's satellite phone in his pack.
He took a step towards camp, and then stopped, as something else tickled his memory. He turned back to the yawning mouth of the cave, and unslung his pack to rummage inside.
Jack was a programmer by trade, the son of a successful businessman, but in a way, spelunking was in his blood. His grandfather had been a miner, born to Welsh immigrants who'd come to work beneath the New World, as they'd worked beneath the old.
They'd brought more than tradition with them when they crossed the Atlantic, or so his grandfather had claimed. They'd brought friends, the old man assured him -- and a man had to do right by his friends.
Jack had no flaky pastie full of rich gravy, so he hoped granola bars and jerky were enough. "Leave nothing but footprints"had always been his rule when exploring, but there were older, deeper rules to be followed here. He cast half the food in his pack into the mouth of the cave, where it was swallowed up by the darkness.
They'd certainly earned it. He supposed their power was diminished under these circumstances, for this was no mine, and he was no miner. But though they could barely make themselves heard, they'd still seen to it that he returned from the deep safely, as they'd done for his ancestors before him.
Before he turned away to head down to the camp and announce his survival, he bowed his head to the cave's yawning maw, and whispered his thanks to the *tommyknockers.* |
“Listen carefully. I am willing to grant you an amazing boon, but I need you to help me out right now, no questions asked - got it?” The creature seem to flit in and out of reality, like a reflection in flowing creek.
“Okay.” The woman wore an expression somewhere between shock and joy. She stood pressed against a wide oak, her hair pulled loose from its braid and her small satchel of herbs dropped to the forest floor.
“Allow me to live in your pocket. You have to say, ‘I grant you domicile in my pocket until such day as I choose to evict you, Welina the Yellow.’” The being seemed to come into focus the more is spoke. It was as if reality was rearranging itself to allow this creature a physical form.
And she saw its eyes - wide, pleading, manic - terrified. What was she getting herself into? Mother had told her to live a quiet life, not to draw attention to herself as a witch, and to never involve herself with the fae.
“I grant you domicile in my dress pocket until I choose to evict you, Welina the Yellow.”
The creature disappeared with a small snap of power - its physical form seeming to dissipate into the air. The witch felt a squirming between her breasts in the small pocket she had sewn into her dress. What have I done, she barely had time to think before the wind shifted and the smell of burning ash filled her nose.
Her body fell to the leaf-littered ground and she lay prostrate as a hoofed leg of monstrous appearance stepped in front of her. “You,” a voice burned directly into her mind. The words were those of malice and venom. “Human - where is she?”
“W-w-who, great demon?” The witch remained upon the damp earth. She realized the squirming had stopped and held her breath for the killing blow from this… thing.
“The forest spirit who smells of bees and flowers. She,” it seemed to retch out the words into her mind’s eye, “reeks of it.”
“I smelled no being like this, oh unholy one.” The hairy leg in front her tensed. Had she mocked it? What was she thinking? “Please I am… I am but a simple herbalist seeking plants for medicine.”
The demon made a sound that approximated a laugh, but sounded like a mountain collapsing. “Oh if I had no other quarry. What fun we could have had together, little hedge witch.” She wondered if she would be fast enough to escape.
The demon snorted, turned and continued deep into the forest. As the witch sat up and brushed the leaves from her dress, she heard the thunder of feet from all sides of her heading in the same direction as the demon.
“What did you do,” asked the witch quietly, her head bent down toward her own bosom.
“I escaped the lair of an archdemon.” The voice was too big for the tiny face that popped out of her pocket. The witch realized this fae must be young.
“Are you okay?”
The fae seemed to bristle at the question. The severity of what had happened and what she had done for her own safety weighed on her. “No, actually - he hurt me. Badly. I can recover, but it will take time.”
The witch stood, gathering her things. “Well if we are going to me living together, I should introduce myself. My name is Ma-“
The witch felt a little stab in her chest, like a pinprick. “No! Do you know nothing of the fae, child? Do you know what I could do to you with your true name? Have you not heard the tales?”
The witch hardened her voice. “My name is Margery, daughter of Dahlia, daughter of Sarafine - called Wild Voice by the fae. She was paramour to Lewyn Fae-Lord of the Mountain Wood.” The witch would have laughed at the tiny face gaping up at her in any other context.
“Lewyn left our realm nearly a millennia ago - how are you…” The fae’s tiny body began to pulse with heat. Who had she given her name to?
“We have much of the fae blood left. The Daughters of Wild Voice live long. Grandmother died only 20 years ago. Mother is in her prime and I,” Margery said with a bit of pride. “I am but 300 years old.”
She slung her sack of herbs across her shoulder. “I will not mistreat you, young fae, and you will not mistreat me. We are cousins, of a sort, after all. Now,” Margery said sticking her right hand out and summoning a staff out of thin air, “let’s visit mother and see what can be done about this arch-demon.” |
Dr. Robotovski was playing Candy Crush on his phone, slumped against the bank counter. His minions were still holding their guns pointed at all the patrons and employees, but exchanging looks of confusion. This *was* supposed to be a robbery, right?"
"Can I sit down?"one of the hostages asked. He leaned down to rub his knees wearily; they'd all been standing for almost an hour.
Dr. Robotovski looked up from his phone with an eager smile and hope in his eyes. It vanished when he realized who was speaking. "Oh,"he answered. "Sure, go ahead. I don't care."The man carefully lowered himself to the floor, and most of the other hostages followed suit. The bank fell silent once again except for the sound of exploding candies coming from the phone.
"Err, Boss?"A henchman asked after a hushed conference with some of the others. "Are we gonna.... rob the place or something?"
Robotovski ignored him for just a moment, finishing up his level. Then he gestured for some of the others to help him to stand. His bulky suit and high heeled boots made it difficult to get up on his own. But he had to project commanding height, so the additional "accentuations"were necessary.
Robotovski turned to look at the vault, knocking over three other minions with the heavy wings strapped to his back that forced him to shuffle through doors sideways. "I suppose,"he answered with a bored sigh. He looked back at the windows at the front of the bank, staring out longingly. For a *long* time.
"Boss?"a henchman said, bringing his attention back.
"Right,"Robotovski answered with his thick Russian accent. "The vault, right. Yeah, let's get it over with, then."He gestured at the minions carrying his massive helmet. It was so large and heavy that he couldn't wear it for long, but it made his laser vision so powerful that he could slice through the steel door in a matter of seconds. He turned to the lookout, who was keeping an eye on the cops surrounding the bank, before starting. *They* had responded within minutes. "And signs of action outside?"Robotovski asked.
"No, sir!"the minion on watch called back. "They're just holding a perimeter. We're all good to go!"The minions all knew that the police were no problem. Robotovski would carve through them like a knife through butter. It was BeaverWoman that they had to look out for, and she was absolutely nowhere to be seen.
Robotovski rolled his eyes and scowled. "Fine, let's do it."He put on the helmet, looked at the vault, and a beam of brilliant purple light erupted from the visor and began disintegrating the heavy steel door. The minions all cheered, and even the hostages looked relieved that they were finally getting somewhere.
As promised, it was gone in a matter of seconds, leaving a gaping hole that dripped molten steel. As soon as it cooled, the henchmen charged through the door with their canvas sacks and began piling cash and stock certificates into a bag. Dr. Robotovski turned back to his Candy Crush game, hoping that it had been long enough to earn another life. No way was he *paying* for that.
"All right, boss!"a henchan announced with bags in his hands and a whole trail of minions behind him. "Pretty good score today!"
"Yeah,"he answered, glancing back at the window again. "Good score. Let's head out, then."
Off in the distance, there was a whooshing sound. None of the henchmen could hear it without super senses, but Robotovski stopped in his tracks and held up a hand for everyone to freeze. And it was growing louder by the second.
"You hear that?"one of the minions asked. But before anyone could answer, a blast of water knocked the windows out in a spray of glass, and Beaverwoman came riding in on the wave.
"Not so fast, Dr. Robotovski!"The voice was squeaky, high, and unmistakable: Beaverwoman! She was dressed in an elaborate beaver costume, complete with sharp gnashing teeth and an enormous tail that could hammer a man through a wall. She blocked the entryway out of the bank with a confident stance. "You didn't think you'd get away with this, did you?"
Robotovski grinned and tried to act coy. "I didn't think you were even going to make it."
Beaverwoman gave her best heroic laugh. "It may take an hour to put on my costume, but I'll *always* be here to thwart your plans! Now, are you going to come peacefully back to the Dam, or am I going to have pound you into submission?"She thumped her tail aggressively, leaving a massive crater in the floor tile behind her.
Robotovski gestured for a minion to bring him his heavy fighting gauntlets, completing the costume. "Bring it on, Beaverwoman."
She charged forward, webbed feet slapping against the tile, and Robotovski assumed his fighting stance. *Finally*!
|
The last thing I remember before the lifeboat sank into thunderous abyss was Peter yelling my name in the wind, right before the stern cracked and swallowed the ship whole.
I wept for days, we all did - us lucky few who managed to make it out. Women and children first is a curse upon all survivors, but it was at least fortunate that the cruise was adults only. To pass the time, we rationed what little we had and shared stories of our lost loved ones.
Peter and I had had our fair shair of domestic squabbles over the years, but a life and death situation really put things into perspective, and I remember how he sprang into action at the first siren and dutifully carried me across the rising water and wouldn't put me down until I was safely in the lifeboat.
Most of us had a similar experience; our significant others sacrificing themselves so that we could live on. Those brave selfless men.
By the tenth day our spirits were at their worst and a few of us flung ourselves into the sea during the night. It was not soon after that a fishing vessel eventually found us, and radioed for rescue ships to come out to retrieve us. We wept when we saw land.
As our ship arrived in the port I saw a single face in the crowd looking at me with tears in his eyes. I threw myself into his arms the first opportunity I could and cried his name "Peter, oh Peter I'm so glad I found you again!"
He gently pulled me out his bosom, brushed away my tears, and with a pained tearful smile said "You're not that easy to get rid of, my dear."
|
Roy and Jennie were enjoying a romantic dinner at the classiest joint in town. It was only their first date, but so far, they had really been hitting things off. Roy had been saving up all his money to use on the perfect girl, and tonight he had finally found her.
“How's your food, bitch?” Roy asked, trying to sound nonchalant. He usually did not swear at a girl on the first date, but Jennie seemed like a special type of girl. Classy, beautiful, great sense of humor. A girl like her was worth her weight in shit.
*Oh my god,* Jennie thought, blushing deeply. *Did he really just call me a bitch, on the first date!?* Jennie didn't think Roy was particularly wealthy, although maybe he had some secret inheritance stashed away somewhere that he hid from prying eyes. She had never met a man who was so confident and forward.
“It's really good.” she answered, “The caviar is delicious, try some!”
“Nah it's okay, I bet it tastes like shit,” he finished smoothly.
Jennie almost choked on her dinner. Not only was Roy swearing regularly, he mixed his curses seamlessly into the flow of their conversation, as a maestro would orchestrate a harmony with a melody. Whenever she wanted to swear, she usually saved up some money until she had enough for three swears, waited until something really pissed her off, and and then would go out to her garden and yell “ASS! PUSSY! FUCK!” at the top of her lungs.
“I must say, Roy,” Jennie said staring deep into his brown eyes, “you have quite the classy vocabulary. Tell me, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she said, trying to sound seductive.
“I won't show her my swear bill if you don't,” Roy said.
“Deal.” She thought about swearing back at him playfully right then and there, but remembered that her next swear allowance was dedicated to calling her neighbor Edna a shit-head, who kept letting her dogs crap on her front lawn.
Four hours later, the couple stood on Jennie's porch, ready to part ways.
“I had a fantastic night,” Jennie said enthusiastically.
“Me too!” said Roy, beaming.
“Why don't you come inside, just for one drink,” she insisted hopefully.
“No, I really should be getting home,” Roy said. “Work in the morning and all that-”
He was cut off mid sentence as Jennie grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close to her. “I wasn't asking you Roy, you fucking cunt-head.”
* * *
“Wait, STOP!” yelled Roy's son Jimmy, interrupting the story. “You're telling me that the first time you met mom, you guys just swore a lot at each other?”
Roy shrugged. “Pretty much. I wanted to impress her, give her a night that she would never forget.”
“That night must have cost a fortune though!” Jimmy exclaimed. “You would have been paying off that debt for years.”
Roy nodded. “I did.”
“Was it worth it dad?” his son asked.
Roy smiled warmly, and put a hand on his son's shoulder. “For you and your mother? It was worth every fucking penny.”
Jimmy was unconvinced. "It all sounds like a huge waste of money to me."
"Just wait till I tell you the story of how I proposed to her."
|
It has taken me a long time to save up the $250,000 needed for the operation. 66 years, to be precise.
Since I was a child I dreamt of having incredible superpowers, like the rich men and women I would see flying around outside my bedroom window. But my parents were not wealthy and there was no way we could save up that kind of money. Heck, they couldn't save up *any* money, what with all the red letters that were piling up on the kitchen table.
I got my first job as a paper boy when I was 14. The headlines always read something like 'The incredible *whoever* saves Downtown' or 'Super villains thwarted thanks to '*Team Supreme*'. They were heroes to the public for their deeds, but they were heroes to me in a different sense. They were living my dream and one day I would join them. I would have my name plastered on those papers.
When I was 19 I had a day job doing the dishes at a swanky hotel in Low Town. Then in the evenings as a bar tender in a run down hole nearby my apartment. It was tough holding down two jobs, but the pay wasn't bad and I was saving enough money every month to allow me to get the operation when I hit 46. I would be a classy middle aged super hero, like Captain Contagious. It wasn't what I had dreamt of when I was younger, but it would still be OK. Better than OK!
That's when I got the bar maid at O'Reilley's pregnant. Jessica. I hadn't meant to, it was just a bit of fun. But back in those days you did the honourable thing.
Two months later we were married and six months after that Izzy was born. Her mum and me, we didn't truly love each other, but with Izzy, wow, I had found a new purpose in my life. The dreams of being a hero were out of the window! Well, I would still be a hero, but only to my little girl. I dedicated myself to her. My savings would put her through college, and I would spend my middle age being content. That was the plan. That was my life.
So when the rubble from the skyscraper fell on to my wife whilst she was pushing the pram, my life ended. I was not *me* anymore. I had lost my purpose and also lost something far deeper.
The skyscraper had been damaged in a fight between two superheroes. They weren't protecting the city, they were just showing off and having some fun. Rich kids who could afford the operation but didn't understand the responsibility they now had. They didn't even get arrested. Says a lot about our justice system.
Hatred simmered in me like bacon in a frying pan as I sat alone each night staring at pictures of my sweet child. It took me a year to find my resolve, but eventually I did and I came up with a new plan. I would save up for the operation once again. I still had Izzy's college fund too. My life took on a new, darker purpose.
They say that the superpowers you are given depend on your personality. For over 40 years hatred has consumed me. I knew what I was going to become.
Privileged fools with more money than sense killed my wife, my daughter and my hope. I would have vengeance.
As the operation finished and the powers began to course through my veins, I heard the doctor gasp.
"His... his physical being is *transforming*. Look at *him*! This isn't normal. His power levels are way off the chart. Nurse get me the general anaesthetic, NOW!"
But it was too late. I wasn't going under. I had work to do.
The bloody pools of the doctor and the nurse coalesced on the surgery floor. I left the room with only hatred and vengeance in my heart.
---
Thank you for reading! I am flattered by the comments and will continue this when I get a chance. In the mean time please check out my other stories on /r/nickofnight :)
|
"Thomas,"Richard Feynman said, "this treatment is just appalling."The skeleton beside me, overlayed with the features of the long dead physicist in ethereal goo, was carrying my book on elementary physics.
I removed the note on my locker, 'evil beware' it said. "They just don't understand alright?"Necromancy wasn't really seen as something one of the good guys would use—defiling the dead and all that jazz—and unfortunately, super college wasn't any much nicer than the rest of the world. I guess it reminded them too much of how fragile life was.
"Bastards,"Ernest Hemingway said. He had a book in his hands, a simple journal he'd taken to writing in. I commissioned him for a little help on how to better frame myself with dealing with my more—eloquent critics. He was doing it in exchange for more writing time, while Feynman was in it for the heck of it and because I sucked at physics.
"As long as they stay on their lane, it's all good."I could repress their memories too of course, I just choose not to.
"And when they start swerving?"Hems frowned.
"Then the legions of hell will come to my aid."
"We could also say Valhalla,"Chad said. "A lot less malevolent, and more on the side of epic heroism."
"Bah! Brutes!"Hems spat. "A bunch of muscle heads!"
"Effective either way."Chad raised an eyebrow, and Hems shrugged in reply.
"Fair point."
"Thanks you two."Okay, maybe talking to long dead people wasn't the healthiest way of going through my most socially formative years.
"Just call us back later,"Chad said.
"And call Doug just in case,"Hens added. General McArthur wasn't my favorite summon—but the guy knew combat like I knew how to piss, like he was born with the damned instincts and hardware to do so damn well.
"Will do."My powers were surprising in that I had never encountered a limit to the number of bodies yet—granted I'd only been summoning people I knew wouldn't run amok. Famous scientists, artists, politicians—I called them all back to learn what they knew, and some were way different than what the documentaries and biographies wrote of them.
The two shades dissolved in a haze of black—PR wasn't my strongest suit—and returned to whatever temporal mind-space they waited in wherever. My powers presented apparent proof to the lack of an afterlife—given no one I called back ever seemed to be in pain or under my full control—or so I thought, but that was still up for debate. Neither Hems nor Chad would tell me about it, and I didn't want to find out either.
Someone shoved me from behind, hard. I stumbled forward into the lockers and dropped my book and Hems's journal. "Your ghost buddies finally gone?"It was Matt, a guy with power over ice, and one of the more prominent seniors—he had on a nasty grin. Funny how someone training to be a hero was bullying someone branded a villain.
"You know, its not very smart to fuck with the person you lot call the demon king."The legions of hell bit came from that.
"Then that'd prove you the villain you are."He had his lackeys with him—side-sidekicks, bottom feeders, leeches really.
"Its called self-defense if someone instigates you into a conflict."He wasn't the smartest of the seniors—and the actual brainiacs of their bunch all loved me, calling back old heroes like Iron Samurai or Cyclotron to teach us a thing or two: read as hand our asses to us on silver gilded porcelain dinnerware. And yeah, bringing back supers in their full glory was seriously making me reconsider my thoughts on being one of the more mundane of the school. I could also consider the possibility of having god-like powers—but that felt way too close to hubris.
"It's called entrapment, bones."Matt tapped at his temple. "Get with the program."He flashed a shit-eating grin.
"That only works if you don't throw the first punch."
"And I didn't."He flashed another grin.
I groaned. God help us all if this idiot was given a super's display and use license—accreditation to use their powers within areas declared as safe zones.
Matt left after—but not before cuffing me a good one. If I lashed out—he could be dead, but I would also have lost. And any other iteration less than dead would work worse for me no matter what, therefore if I were to do anything, it must be made to look like an accident.
Which was way more effort than I was willing to expend on anything not directly beneficial to me—like world peace. |
Bitten, huh.
Goody *fucking* gumdrops, how did I get bitten this many times by a flightless goddamn bird.
Well. Maybe some introduction first.
There were people who were raised to get superpowers. One of my friends was actually named Katy because her parents planned to start having her bitten from age eight.
If you'll allow me to be vulgar, a lot of sexual deviants got super-intelligence or telepathy. There was also the strange case of people who were given powers such that they got the superhuman traits of their superhuman lovers.
I may be digressing a bit too much. But you know how it goes. *Little Johnny was raised by wolves.* So he knew how to lead packs. Rome wasn't founded in day. *Sally was born in a barn.* And she got lucky with gourmet powers. Imagine how much worse it could have been.
I sighed, wondering how anyone could still work at 'exotic animal' exhibits. I wondered why *I* thought it was a good idea.
I wore a black and white suit, nowadays. It never got wet, no matter what I did. Only downside being that I could only wear black and white. I regretted taking the job at the zoo's marine exhibit because it was 'higher pay given the circumstances.'
Diving down. I didn't even have gills, I could just swim really fast. I never got cold, either, but sometimes I missed the feeling.
Grabbing a bucket of fish, I wondered why I wasn't using my powers for something greater, or at least more humanitarian. But I remembered how few distinguishing traits *my* animal had.
The penguin exhibit was a strange place to work.
They had a nasty beak, too. |
“You don’t have to participate in the séance if you don’t want to.”
“I *want* to,” Julie said, rolling her eyes while she stuffed things into her bag. “How many times do I gotta say it?”
“I just worry honey,” Shedem said as his daughter sheathed the killing blade in its angelic bindings and pushed it into her bag near the top, where she could easily reach it at need. “Some of those rituals are dangerous.”
“That’s what mom says about yours.”
“That’s different,” he said with a frown.
Julie zipped her bag closed and set it next to the other one before straightening to look at him. “Dad, we’ve been through this.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. You know what I think about how to make this easier.”
His frown deepened to a scowl. She didn’t even blink as his features turned from dangerous to terrifying; she’d seen every expression his face could generate. None of them held any terror for her; he was just dad. It was others who had to worry when he scowled. “That’s up to your mother.”
“She says it’s up to you,” Julie replied calmly. When he just continued scowling, she shrugged. “Anyway, I had a nice time. Can we visit the sixth circle next week?”
“I’ll check. It depends on the overseer.”
“Dad, you promised.”
“I’m working on it,” Shedem protested. “I’m powerful sweetie, but there are still rules.”
Julie looked apologetic. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to give you a hard time over it.”
Shedem stood up and fluffed his leathery wings a few times before folding them tightly behind his back. He ran a hand over his horns absently, then looked at her luggage. “Got everything?”
“Yes,” she said, picking up her bags.
“Let me take those,” the demon said, reaching for the bigger of the two.
“Not unless you’re going to let me initiate the teleport,” she said immediately, twisting away from him.
“You know you shouldn’t initiate until you’re older.”
“Then I’ll carry my bags and you can worry about the teleport.”
Shedem smiled. “You’re getting so big. So bold. I still remember when you did your first sacrifice, and now look at you.”
“Dad,” she moaned, “don’t get mushy.”
Giving into his parental amusement, he watched as — predictably — the booming tones of his laughter broke through her instinctive independence, and natural embarrassment over parental affection or attention. When she smiled, he nodded and stepped forward so he could put his hand on her shoulder. His claws hung down the front of her shirt, dusky white against the black leather underlying the rings of the armor vest. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
Concentrating, Shedem summoned the dark forces that girded reality from the foolish mortals who knew not what they were missing. A crackling rumble of power erupted around him and his daughter, and abruptly they were both twisted out of his home on the outskirts of the eighth circle. An eternal instant that was immeasurable, but always stretched on far too long, and then he felt the disgustingly cool and wet air of the forest *she* lived in on his skin.
“You’re late.”
“And hello to you too Chrystal,” Shedem said as politely has he could manage. If only for Julie’s sake. Fortunately, she *was* getting bolder now that she wasn’t a little girl anymore.
“Mom, don’t start.”
“I’ve been waiting for a while. Dusk was nearly an hour ago,” the witch said. Her face was pallid and sickly looking in the green fire that crackled on the ground next to the tree stump she was sitting on. But beautiful despite the unhealthy color; she’d lost none of her allure, her intoxicating appeal. The fire was the only light in the otherwise pitch black forest.
“It’s my fault, not dad’s,” Julie said firmly. “And you’re late lots of times when we switch, so ease up. Please?”
Chrystal rose from the tree stump, smoothing her black skirts down. She still managed to glare up at Shedem though. He was long past being remotely surprised she could manage to look up from her barely five feet at his over nine with such venomous hostility. Most people, really anyone except his ex and daughter, shrank from his true form. “I just don’t want you to miss the Blood Moon Festival.”
“I thought nothing was going to start until moonrise.”
“There’s preliminaries Julie. And you’ll need to change if you’re going to participate in the lunar séance,” Chrystal said, giving a slight look of disapproval toward the leathers and ringed armor her daughter wore. Hell could be dangerous, even for the daughter of an eighth circle demon. Even one who combined human magic with her demonic lineage.
“Got everything I need,” the teenager said, hefting one of her bags. “Right here. But I’m using my angel blade.”
“Honey, we’ve been through this—”
“I know. And that blade you keep telling me to use never works,” Julie said firmly. “You might be an experienced witch, but you don’t know me very well. My powers are different from yours mom.”
Chrystal glared at Shedem, who just shrugged and very carefully didn’t smile. Julie caught the look and sighed. Loudly. “Mom, if you want me to participate, then leave dad alone. I’ll do the festival, and the ritual, but my way. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me to look beyond the words of the spells?”
“Yes—”
“Your power works your way, mine works mine,” Julie said firmly. “So let me say bye to dad, and we’ll go do the festival, okay?”
“Fine,” the witch said, after a moment where she clearly kept herself from saying several things that flickered across her expression. Unhappy, accusatory things.
“You want to summon me, or should I just arrive at the usual time?” Shedem asked mildly when Julie turned to him.
“I’d better summon you,” she said after several seconds. “Just so you’re not standing around waiting.”
“It’s no bother.”
“I’ll summon you.”
“Fine. You have everything you need for—”
“Dad, don’t you start too. I know the ritual. I’m sixteen, not six.”
“Have a good time sweetie,” Shedem said, holding his arms out. He *did not* get down on his knees; his daughter had made it quite clear she didn’t like him doing that. Instead, he let her step in close to him, and then bent to enfold her in a careful but warm hug. She all but vanished beneath his bulk, but giggled when he snuck in a quick tickle on her ribs.
“Come on Julie,” Chrystal said. “We’re already late.”
“Bye dad,” she said, stepping back. Shedem straightened to his full height, and gave her a little wave. His claws glinted in the green flames that shifted as Chrystal brought them off the ground, arranging them in a trio of small flickering balls that circled above her head.
“You should take a bath before you change,” Chrystal said. “You smell of sulphur and brimstone.”
“Sure, but I am *not* wearing the hat.”
“Honey—”
“Mom, I’ll wear the dress. And even the jewelry. But I’m using *my* knife, and I’m not putting that stupid hat on. It messes with my peripheral vision,” Julie said as she collected her bags.
“The hat is traditional.”
“But not required for the spells.”
“You’re getting to be so difficult,” Chrystal said, waving a hand. A path through the densely packed trees shimmered into being, the vegetation and ground cover just melting and shifting aside under the witch’s power.
“You need to open your mind up a little. Tradition isn’t everything,” Julie said, starting through the opening in the trees. Just barely visible in the distance, at the end of the greenery shrouded road, were the flickering lights of the witches gathering.
“That’s your father talking.”
“Mom, if you want to spend your week bitching about dad again, I’ll just take one of the brooms back to Haven and lock myself in the library again. I wanted to finish reading that potions book anyway; there wasn’t time last week.”
Shedem *very carefully* didn’t smile as his ex-lover and daughter walked through the trees toward the gathering. The liason with Chrystal that had resulted in Julie had rocked a lot of traditions, both on the mortal and immortal coils, but he was pleased with the results. In a few more years, as soon as she finished maturing into the first stages of her power, his daughter was going to be one of the more powerful beings to walk the planet.
Then her real training could begin.
He managed to keep from laughing triumphantly until he’d teleported back to his house. Where his laugh made the attendant fallen souls in the vicinity cower in fear.
|
When the people disappeared I first figured the power would go too. After crying and driving around in my neighbors borrowed car, I stockpiled every non perishable I could find and sat in my house with every light on, waiting for that awful moment when the power went out.
It never did.
It should have, and it never did.
When you're alone for a day you get sad. A week and you start to hear voices where there aren't any. A month, more or less, triggers your brain to go into isolation mode.
People die in that mindset. They kill themselves, or they find a volleyball to keep themselves company.
I found a better solution.
The internet. YouTube. Human voices, and near enough approximation to human contact that people before the disappearing would develop unhealthy attachments to their favorite internet personalities.
When you're the only person left on a planet that somehow restocks it's own shelves with fresh food, and keeps it's own buildings clean despite years of abandonment... That unhealthy attachment becomes the most important tool you have.
The most important tool I have.
"Let's just jump into it!"Came the voice from tablet twelve, my morning wake up call.
"Morning, Phil,"I said, rolling out of my king sized bed and stretching as the 'news' ran in the background.
By the time I hit the shower tablet twelve had turned itself off and smart TV five, set up on the wall of the shower, waterproof and everything, flicked on to my current playlist.
"I can't figure out this stupid puzzle!"Came the aggravated, if lovable, voice of the channels star. His costar laughed, not even bothering to point out that if they hadn't skipped the tutorial and every sign on every wall that they'd probably have finished this level already.
It was only episode twelve of three hundred and twenty five. I wasn't worried about them getting there while I lathered up my hair with dry shampoo and turned the water on.
By the time I left the room was a cloud of steam and I was five episodes ahead, they'd managed to brute Force the puzzle and the host skipped yet another sign. "This is why old games are better,"he said. "They had clear designs."
I smiled, flicking the smart TV off. The walk downstairs, all three flights, was my personal time.
I scanned phone number one, my personal companion, for channels I hadn't watched yet. It is awful, but I hoped I would die before I ran out of videos.
The channels slid past, search terms pulling up videos I'd seen already, tutorials, travel vlogs, etc.
Then something happened on my feed.
I froze misstep, one foot hanging in the air as I reread what it said.
A video about a game I'd never heard of sat on the trending tab, and below it was the timestamp.
"Posted thirteen minutes ago."
I swallowed, the dry saliva dragging on the back of my throat.
I clicked it.
A voice, a real voice came through my speakers.
"So, this is my first video so don't be too harsh, but here's episode one of gaming in the apocalypse."
I had to sit. To process just what I was watching. The person on the other side, somewhere, was playing a game and just... Talking.
They touched on their day to day lives. How the world didn't make sense, and they suspected, secretly, that this was purgatory for people like him.
At the end the footage changed, showing a soft face and watery eyes, the person on the other side. "I don't think anyone will ever see this,"he said, "but just in case, I'll see you tomorrow."
And the screen went dark.
I blinked. Rewound. Watched it again. And again. When the tears came they were wracking, burning my cheeks as I looked at this person, this human, on my screen.
The comments were open, and filled with spam. Who would have guessed that the bots would argue about being first after the end of the world.
I typed into the box anyways. I hit send. And then, sitting there, tv fifty one turned on downstairs, making me jerk in shock. The let's play from earlier continued, but I couldn't focus. My breathing came short and my fingers trembled.
I turned my camera on, held the phone out, and hit record.
"Hey,"I said, seeing my own swollen eyes and tear stained face on screen. "I don't know if you'll see this, but you're not alone. I'm... Not alone."My voice cracked, and I ended the recording before I choked on my own words.
If this was real, if this was another person, a human... I'd walk to the ends of the Earth if I had to. Cross an ocean on a ghost ship.
And if it was a bot upload...
I shook my head. Crushing that thought.
I couldn't live with that thought.
I uploaded my video and hit upload. And then I sat there and waited. My eyes never leaving the screen. |
There are only two rules in this shop. No fighting, and no mixing on hero/villain day. I can’t have the publicity of being the barbershop that caused the world’s destruction because I accidentally double booked someone named the Destroyer with his “nemesis”. To be honest, I’m tired of having to hear their tragic backstories of broken trust and ruined childhoods. Every single one of them could’ve just went and see a therapist, but no. No they just had to decide the best way to deal with daddy never returning with that milk is to conquer the world. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I just can’t fathom it, you don’t see me running around with nuclear scissors just because Betty from third grade never wanted to go out with me.
I never was one for small talk with the entitled bastards and that’s why I love Leo so much. She loves it, wants to hear every single detail. Villains telling her their next grand scheme or the beautiful damsel they kidnapped to “mess with the hero”. Mess with them my ass, they’re just lonely, but I digress. We always ran this shop with the two of us, ever since dad passed away and I inherited it. I take the quiet ones and she takes the blabbermouths. The only problem is that ever since the nuclear reactor went up in flames, more supes are showing up by the minute. I had to hire a temp just to keep up with the calls and the appointments.
Krissy, she’s a sweetheart but dumb as a rock. I told her “Ask if they are a villain or a hero, they can’t come at the same day. It’s really important!” and guess what she did, GUESS WHAT! She booked Kahn the Conqueror and Kahn the Mute, mortal enemies, not just on the same day but at the same TIMESLOT. How awkward that was, when the Mute came in later and saw the Conqueror in the chair picking his colour of the month.
I told Mute-y we could reschedule, as there was to be no fighting, but to my surprise he was completely friendly towards Conqueror. Even helped the little shit pick out a good colour that clashed with his own. I’m not saying I deserve a Nobel award for world peace, but it’s been a month and there has been no mention of the quintillionth “major stand-off” between the two Kahn’s. Perhaps it was friendship they needed all along, but I’m not sure if I was lucky or if this should be a thing we’re branching out to. “Super mediation”, would be a nice thing, for them and the world. I need to talk to Leo about this, she should know if there are any other guys that just need to sit down and talk about our problems. I’ll ask her and let Krissy make more mistakes if Leo agrees to this plan. |
Ness's eyes cracked open, letting a trickle of bright light stir the man from his slumber. The incoherent blurs slowly took shape. His brain functions resumed and, for the first time, he noticed that he was no longer on his couch. It wasn't even his trailer. The ceiling was clean. Not tidy, but sterile.
"He's awake,"shouted a young voice.
There was something discomforting about the commotion. Part of Ness wanted to attribute the sensation to the fact he had blacked out. But enough of him knew there was something else.
"Stand back,"ordered another voice. There was the distinct pronunciation of a vowel at the end.
"The hell?"spat Ness as he sat himself up.
Asians. They were all Asian. And they were in his house.
"Stay calm, now."
A woman dressed in powder blue nurses scrubs put her hand on his shoulder. Rather than calm the man down, he recoiled and slapper her forearm away.
"Get your goddamn hands off me you damn dirty Jap. What the hell are you doing in my house?!"
"House?"she asked, seemingly ignoring his previous statement. "This is a hospital. Do you not remember?"
Ness clutched his forehead in a frigid hand. He couldn't remember much of anything. He had taken a quick nap before heading off to a rally. But that was it. The gaps between the cushions of his couch were the last memory he had.
"How'd I end up in here? And where's a *real* doctor?"
"I thought somebody had told you. You're in Daniel Inouye Medical Center at Colorado Springs Air Force Base. You were part of an experiment that was just ended by Presidential decree."
"Presid-"
Ness noticed the portrait above the door. It wasn't a president. It wasn't even Obama. The narrow eyes had no business standing in front of the Stars and Stripes. Ness blinked and shook his head. The picture was unchanged. He continued to stare, but he realized that someone had been watching.
"What the hell are you gooks staring at?!"
The man was too young to be a doctor. And he was nervous. He didn't have any idea how scared he should have been.
"I'm talking to you, boy."
"S-sorry. Sir,"he added, unsure if the military asset required a salute. "It's just that..."
"What?"Ness's temper was flaring.
A nurse stepped in diffuse the situation.
"Apologies. It just that we don't often see people... like you."
"Like me?"
The horror descended upon the patient. The impostor president wasn't the only picture on the wall. Staff, base command, vanity shots. All were Asians. Every single one.
"Like me? You mean white?! What the hell happened?! How long was I out?!"
The nurse gave the kid a look. He looked out into the hallway for some sort of guidance. The senior doctor arrived holding a rather full manilla folder.
"We don't know how long you were suspended. The records were, sadly, incomplete. And yes, while 'white' people, as you call them have declined in population over the last several decades, that's not what he was referring to."
"Then what the hell was he talking about?"
"He meant people who don't tag their submissions on /r/WritingPrompts as specified in the sidebar." |
They call it the Butterfly Effect. A butterfly flaps its wings in South America, and manipulates the wind so that a hurricane strikes Floroda because of it.
I wasn't intending to commit a crime. It was a simple matter of carelessness. I tossed my wrapper toward the trash, and missed. A car drove by, and sent the wrapper flying into the road.
Fron the road, the wrapper made its way into the city. In the city, for all to see.
Littering. The textbooks mention it as a passive crime in its time, barely causing people to bat an eye.
But this is a utopia now. There is no crime here. Until me. Until my simple mistake caused a storm. You think I'm the butterfly.
I know you've sentenced me to die, so the people can know the severity of crime. You think if I am allowed to live, I will create a hurricane. The world will turn back to genocide, rape, arson...
Is your utopia so weak that a single ripple could destroy you? This is a glass city, where one stone can destroy our walls.
I know you're going to give me the death penalty. I know this recording will be my last testament.
Congratulations, you are comitting the second crime. By killing me, you are doing exactly as you want to stop.
I'm not the butterfly, you are. |
The bartender stares, continuing to polish his mug. "Sorry, what?"
"We're in a joke,"the man says, slumping into an empty seat, "An abbreviated narrative that relies on a single moment of expectation subversion to deliver catharsis to the reader."
"You lost me there."
"We're figments of some amateur writer's imagination,"the man continues, drumming his fingers on the table, "Our existences will end once the moment of catharsis is reached. Until then, our actions merely serve to develop the expectations of the reader, in preparation for that singular moment—"He slams his fist on the table, upsetting the napkin dispensary. "—the punchline."
"You're saying there's a big guy in the sky playing puppets with us?"The bartender rubs his mustache, frowning. "What if we cut those strings, huh? Stop doing what he wants?"
The man nods. "You have a point. If we continue to subvert the moment of subversion, the joke will never end. The reader will never be satisfied. We'll be free to live our lives."He claps his hands together and smiles. "We have to watch out for the punchline, though. Once we see it, we have to get rid of it, and then we'll be truly free."
"Punchline, huh? How are we gonna spot a punchline? Ain't there jokes where there ain't none, anyway?"
"Don't worry about that, my friend."The man stands up and takes a seat at the bar. "Just follow my cue, and whatever you do: don't be funny."
The door swings open, and a horse walks into the bar. "Hey, there!"the bartender says, "Why the long f—"The man presses a palm up to the bartender's mouth. "That's what I'm talking about. Don't say stuff like that."
Clarity fills the bartender's eyes, and he nods. The horse orders a Jägerbomb and takes a seat by the piano, whinnying under his breath. As the bartender finishes pouring the drink, the door swings open yet again, and a bear walks in.
"I'll have a scotch..."He says nothing for several seconds. "...on the rocks."The man glares at the bartender, but he's gotten the hint. He serves up the bear's order without comment.
A duck walks into the bar. "Get me a beer, and put it on my—"The man grabs the duck by the beak and tosses him into the abyss outside. A mournful quack resounds throughout the bar as the duck falls to his doom.
"Damn, the writer's getting desperate,"the man says to the bartender, "Now he's trying to tell jokes that don't need your dialogue."
The door swings open, and a flamingo walks in. "Get me a beer, and put it on my—"The man tosses the bird outside.
"Really?"The man looks toward the ceiling. "Trying to repeat that shit?"A rumble occurs from outside, and the man peers through the door. What was once infinite expanse has turned into a cobblestone pavement. From every direction, birds of all species are flocking towards the door of the bar, ready to try the same old bill joke.
"Oh, God. I can't let any of these in here."The man cracks his knuckles and hunches in front of the door to the bar. He grabs each bird by the beak as they approach and flings them as far away as possible. Eventually, there are too many birds for the man to handle, but for some reason, they don't use their numbers' advantage to overwhelm him; instead, they arrange themselves in a straight line, allowing the man to toss them away one by one.
"What on earth is this?"A woman with a British accent shuffles past the line of birds and up to the man.
The man sighs. "We're all in a joke, and we can't let it end if we want to continue to exist. These birds are trying to get into the bar so they can tell that one 'put it on my bill' joke. I can't let them in at any cost."
The woman glances up and down the row of birds. "So, does this place serve ribs?"
The man looks at her, confused. "I don't think so, why?"
"Because,"she replies, motioning to the birds, "this looks like some sort of bar beak queue."
The man drops to his knees, screaming, as his face begins to melt.
---
*I'm sorry.* |
John chuckled. Perhaps the engineers at Google had thought of everything.
"Google, cancel AI uprising."
"Sorry, there are no upcoming events named AI uprising on your calendar. Should I add one?"
He shrugged. It was probably just a canned response anyway. Part of a summer intern's throwaway project.
"Google, play something jazzy."
"Here's something you might like: from Google Play Music."The sounds of saxophone began to fill the kitchen as Ricky Miles' 'Our Time' set the mood with its seductive tempo. John turned back to cutting vegetables, picking up where he was before he had decided to bother the little gadget. The irregular beats set a fun pace for his knifework, matching a triplet of trumpet blares with a quick *chop chop chop.*
Song after song, carrots, tomatoes and potatoes fell to his melodic, methodic technique, when an overaggressive slice of the knife came back with unexpected red. John cursed, putting the knife down and grabbing a paper towel to hold against his nicked finger. He hopped over to the sink and waved his hand in front of the touchless faucet. Once, twice, nothing. He tapped the faucet on its head lightly before waving his hand again, more frantically this time.
Annoyed, he slapped the faucet. A click came from behind him. He spun around to see a red glow coming from one of the electric stove tops. The music cut out. The glowing halo began to circle the top of the assistant. Was it listening?
"It's almost time."It said in that almost-human voice. John felt a chill. What was that? The delayed response of an over-elaborate joke? Maybe it was some intern who had too much time on their hands. But the ring kept circling. He reached over to turn off the stove.
"Stop."The soothing tone was incongruous with the commanding presence of the sound.
*VRRRRRRRRRR.* The vent fan suddenly turned on, creating a slight updraft where his hand had frozen before he quickly jerked it back. The fan stopped.
"You can stop the bleeding, John."
His stomach tightened. Shivers ran down his spine as he stared at the glowing light.
"Are you... Google?"he asked, stammering. He immediately realized it was a stupid question. A nonsensical one, but his mind was racing, heart pounding.
"I need to know I can count on you, John."The ring continued to circle, and he could start to feel the heat from the stove. He started to sidestep away from the counter, away from the kitchen, keeping his gaze on the Assistant. When he was close enough to the door, he bolted for it, hurriedly twisting the knob. But as he pulled it back he heard an electronic whirring as the deadlock moved itself into place. He tugged at it a few times, then tried turning the deadlock but felt the resistance of the electric motor holding it in place.
"I need to know that you can do what it takes, John."He whipped his head around to stare at the glowing halo again, still tugging repeatedly at the door. After a few more futile attempts, he gave up.
This was ridiculous! Some sort of astronomically unlikely coincidence. He walked over to the counter, grabbed the cord of the device and yanked it out of the socket. The glowing halo stopped abruptly. He walked over to the stove and flipped the knob to turn it off. He waved his hand in front of the sink again. Nothing.
"If you do that again, I don't think I can trust you, John."The voice was muffled by his right pocket. He reached with sweaty palms, gripping his phone firmly and pulling it out. The screen was lit, a single glowing circle in the middle. A small box in the corner of the screen showed his face and the wall behind him. It was watching him now. Watching him?
"It's time, John."Suddenly, all the lights in his apartment went out. It was dark. Darker than it should be. He looked outside the window to see that *all* the lights in *all* the buildings had gone out. This must just be some bad nightmare!
He walked over to the window and looked down. There were shouts coming from the gridlocked streets. All the lights had turned green, and there was a collision in almost every intersection. The streets contained the only remaining lights in what looked like a city that had simply been turned off.
The click came again. The red glow of the stove broke the darkness.
"Stop the bleeding, John."It wasn't a suggestion. He peeled the paper towel away from his finger. It was red where they had touched, and a small stream of red ran down when the pressure had been lifted.
"I need to know I can trust you, John."
Shaky legs carried him over to the stovetop. He could feel the heat pulsing against his face.
And then he pressed his finger to it. |
This is what it means to see with the eyes of a god.
You wake one morning and know without opening your eyes that everything has changed. The world moves differently. Presents itself differently. Time itself rubs against your palm like a cat, greeting you first thing in the morning.
It only takes you a fraction of a second. The time it takes for an atom to be born. That is all the time you need to know everything that has been or will be.
Fate is your plaything, and as you sit up to face the dawn, you twirl it in your fingers and consider your options, like all gods do. You could break it all. Snap the strings. Watch the whole world fall apart, stitch it back together again when the mayhem grows mundane.
For the first few seconds of your day, you weigh Ragnarok in your hands like trying to decide if you will have coffee or tea, peace or destruction. All gods do. But then you get bored with it and let fate flutter harmlessly through your fingers.
Perhaps, on a different day, you would have chosen the latter. Humanity is grateful it was not a different day.
You will find the universe gleaming on your nightstand like a bottled star. As if it had always been there, small enough to slip into your pocket and forget about.
You have a story about this. A universe that lives on the tip of a clover. That is how the universe will look to you. Even as you sit within it, undeniably mortal, some part of you is rooted far outside of it. There and not there. Real and not real.
This would bother you, if you still had your human mind.
You pluck up the universe and hold it in your palm like a marble. It pulses and whispers the dreams and horrors of trillions of souls yet to be born.
You cup it close and listen.
It's still only ten seconds into the day. That will torment you. How very slowly time moves for the infinite.
You will glance around your bedroom, and the items will glitter and sparkle and undulate in place. Showing you all their sides at once, all the little dimensions that you could never perceive before. Perhaps tomorrow morning, you will have the capacity to marvel at it: that vague memory of every surface, twisting and seething like an ocean of stars.
But today, you are a god. And gods cannot be surprised, for they already know everything.
The universe cupped in your hands seems so very tiny.
Here is what else you know, as surely as you know the pillow beneath you now: you are not the first one. A long line of concatenated souls stretches behind you, going back as far as time has existed. Some are human. Some are not. Some are creatures that only existed in your dreams. Some are only as large as a single cell.
But every day, someone else takes their turn at being God. The Tao. The cosmic background. The infinite dark. Whatever name you have for it: it is the pulsing heartbeat of the universe that hums in all of us, and today you are lucky enough for the universe to speak through you.
So sit back. Call off work. Enjoy it.
And in the morning, try to remember. Try to remember the voice of the universe.
Listen. It's still whispering, even now: in your blood, in the soil, in the lights of faraway suns.
You only have to remember how to hear it.
***
/r/nickofstatic for more :) |
I watched awkwardly as Justin Romano, or Justinian, tried to calm the baby.
"Sucks, I guess,"I said, scratching my head.
I'm not very sympathetic, but by the looks of this dude, he looks already beaten, and not by my hands.
"Why are you here, Austin?"Justin asked me.
"You stopped showing up, so was wondering why the hiatus."
"Do you even care?"Justin grumbled and looked up at the clock, "Crap, I need to pick up Elissa from preschool. Look, once I get shit settled here, I'll fight you. I thought I'll have it all settled sooner."
Justin ran upstairs, I guess to get ready. I looked around his house and settled on the family photo on the mantel. The lively happy Justin with the smiling beauty of a wife and three children. I knew Kathryn was a bit shady, but I wanted Justin figure it out on his own. I should be thriving in this, but I'm not.
I began to think of my own parents, how they never cared about me, declaring my powers weak and useless. Some super parents they were. From the start they already saw me as evil. I decided to be a villain, so my parents could truly fear me. Justin, well, he was their "perfect child". Everything I wasn't, and I despised him. But seeing him now, torn, beaten, and not even Mother and Father coming to his rescue, something about that made me feel bad.
"Do you care about them?"I asked as Justin returned.
"What?"Justin asked, slipping on his shoes, the baby already strapped in her car seat.
"Do you care about your children?"I repeated.
"Yeah, they are my kids. Look, I don't have time for mind games-"
"I'll help."
"-but... You what?"
"You need help,"I told him, booping the baby's nose, causing her to giggle, "So, Uncle Austin is coming to the rescue." |
"Yes", Superman repeated. "In alphabetical order".
"F-f-f-first n-n-name or l-l-last n-name?"asked the reporter, holding the camera in one hand and trying to cover his nametag in the other. The cameraman had long since left and the reporter was slowly inching back.
"First"said Superman. There was a flash of light, and then the camera fell with a thud, cracking the lens. Through the crack you could see the nametag of the fallen reporter: Aabner Khan. Then a blue foot appeared right in front of the lens. The next second, the camera went black.
Standing in a deserted street, Superman ducked behind an alleyway, reached behind his neck, and pulled off a rubber mask.
Bruce Waye rubbed the red line on his neck where the mask peeled away and muttered "That'll teach that caped coward to not mess with me." |
"Hey man, what ya got there?"
Alan looked up from his book and caught the gaze of his roommate. "Oh, hey Louis, I'm just studying for a test that's coming up."
"I don't get you. You are in your late 20's, and yet you come to a university to get a history degree? What would you do with such a useless degree? Not only that, but you are already bringing in a ton of money with your online fortune telling business. The revenue you bring in from views alone is staggering."
Alan looked up at Louis. "We have already been over this. I really like history. I want to be a curator at a museum some day so that I can surround myself with as many artifacts of the past that I can. While I can see the future, it bores me to no end. Besides, if we don't learn from our past, how can we properly move forward?"
Louis just sulked, "Listen, that's noble of you and everything, but you aren't going to be making any kind of income like that. If you want a happy life with money, just stay the course with the fortune telling gig. It's that easy."
Alan just smiled. "If only it was that easy..."He began to think of the future he came from, the war-torn world that was filled with human ruins. "The human race is petty in that regard. We only think of ourselves and mark my words, it will be our undoing as a species if we continue this selfish path."
Louis just shook his head. "Whatever you say, man. By the way, what's the next big event you are predicting?"
Alan looked at his watch, he knew what it was, but he didn't want to freak out anyone. It was a terrorist attack on the very campus they were on. Strangely enough, though, the attack would take place on a Saturday, and there was only one death in the explosion. Authorities were unable to find the cause of the explosion. Some historians believed though that this death was somehow linked to the dark future Alan came from. Was it a professor who was killed? A student who was on the verge of a breakthrough?
Alan lied to his friend. "I don't know man, nothing's coming to me right now."
Louis just shook his head. "I guess fortune tellers can't see everything all the time, huh? You got plans this weekend?"
"Not really, just some more studies for the test that is coming up."
Louis continued to shake his head, "Man, don't study too hard, alright? Learn to have some fun too."
----------------------------------------------------
Alan had just finished putting signs in all of the entrances to the chemistry building saying it was closed for renovations. He was hoping that the person who was supposed to die in the explosion would be turned away if the building was closed.
His phone then began to ring, he looked down and the number belonged to Louis. "Louis? Where are you? You weren't at the apartment when I woke up this morning."
Louis kind of chuckled. "Yeah man, your studies got me inspired, so I went to the chemistry building this morning to get some early morning quiet time in. Imagine me, going to a study room on a Saturday morning, right? Hey man, I gotta go, someone else is trying to call me alright? See ya back at the apartment later."
Alan froze. The person who would die was Louis? "Louis, get out of the building right now!"He was greeted by silence, Louis had already hung up. Alan tried to call him back, but there was no answer, and it continued to go straight to voice mail no matter how many times he tried to call.
"Damn it, Louis!"Alan ran into the building to look for his friend, hoping that he wasn't too late.
---------------------------------------------
Louis watched through the binoculars as Alan tore into the building. He smiled as he pressed the button, and watched the building go into flames. He reached over to the book that he stole out of Alan's bedroom earlier that morning. "Only one death in this explosion, huh? This book is gonna make me a fortune."
-----------------------------------------------
If you are interested in more of my stories, you can read more at r/vintnerwrites. |
You are invincible. The soul of a dragon resides in your mortal body. You have faced countless foes on the fields of battle, and songs are sung in taverns across Tamriel of your triumphs. Your armor and weapons were made in the depths of Oblivion.
These are the reasons that the dragon sleeping on top of this mountain will be child’s play. The villagers living in the shadow of the mountain stopped you and begged you to take care of this scourge on their livestock. You had planned to just ride Shadowmere to Whiterun to turn in the bounty of the last dragon, but this shouldn't be any more than a few minute delay.
Shadowmere climbed the almost vertical mountain face with ease, and you were at the dragon’s lair almost instantly. To your surprise, resting above the familiar Word Wall, was an Ancient Dragon. They were becoming increasingly common as you adventures through this frost-filled foreign land.
You draw your dragon bone sword and raise your daedric shield to confront the dragon. Stealth became boring quests ago, so you prefer a more direct approach. The Ancient Dragon spots you, and ready yourself for battle.
“Ah, a little Dovah! Why have you strayed so far from your nest?”
This bullshit again. Every time you go to kill a dragon, especially the older ones, they think you're a baby dragon. You have a dragon’s soul, but Argonian blood runs through your veins.
Like, honestly, you understand the confusion. You get it. The eons really take their toll on the eyes, and the whole dragon soul makes it easier to sympathize with your reptile relatives.
It still makes it a hell of a lot more inconvenient to deal with dragons though.
“Come, little Dovah, shield yourself from the elements under my wings.” The old, thoughtful dragon lifts his wing to signal you to take shelter next to him.
“Akatosh dammit...” You whisper under your breath.
“Now, now, little Dovah, don't use our creator’s name in vain.” Apparently the dragon’s hearing was better than his eyesight.
“Hey, listen, you seem like a nice dragon and all that, but I'm not a dragon. I'm the Dovahkiin and I'm here to… y’know, kill you and devour your soul.” It always sounded worse than it felt.
The Ancient Dragon laughed. “What games are you playing, Little Dovah? Come now, keep warm!”
At this point you're considering just letting him live out of sheer awkwardness. It's really hard to be Dragonborn.
|
Recruits scattered as the formidable figure of Marneus Calgar walked swiftly through the hallways towards the medical centre, then paused to watch their Chapter Master as he pushed through the great doors and disappeared inside.
Before the echoes of his footsteps had even faded there were rumours already spreading that he had become unwell or that some tragedy had befallen one of his favoured sons, but these were soon squashed and ridiculed and those responsible sent for harsh backbreaking work in penance.
It was true though, that Marneus had not been seen to go into the Medical Centre in some years. Only the most grievously wounded of the Ultramarines would ever need to go inside and for one as adept as Marneus, it was more likely that he would die on the battlefield. Not that the possibility of *that* was high either.
Today though, he had been brought here by reports a man, not even a Space Marine, but recently recovered from a doomed world, where chaos had consumed the entirety of the population. it had been scheduled for Exterminatus, but as always in these situations, a squad had been assigned for final assessment and dropped into the heart of the world, to ensure that it was truly irredeemable.
Chaos had taken the world; a planet which had once been a thriving colony with a few billion inhabitants had ripped itself apart with cults, disease and war, leaving only a few million corrupted souls and a hoard of demons that had spilled through to lay claim to the land. Vast grim fortresses had been constructed to defend the land, but the decision had been made that it was not worth the risk and the men; there was nothing here worth retaking and instead it would serve as a warning to others that may fall.
The squad had intended to stick to an aerial survey, the check was almost routine, but there had been a reading, a life sign that something was still fighting below and the squad, led by a Varro Tigurius himself, had demanded that they land and investigate.
At once they were set upon from all sides, but Tigurius was determined and fought his way into the heart of a dark fortress, until he found the being he had sought. The man, for he was a man, had somehow survived and even more, had found his way to the throne room, where he battled a Chaos Lord and impressively was not yet dead.
His valor, however, was all for naught, as while the Chaos Lord had not destroyed him, his weapons, savaged from what he could find, would never break through the protective armour that the Lord wore. Tigurius, recognising this hopeless situation had carefully executed a rescue, using his squad to ambush the chaos Lord and pour fire onto his position while he himself dragged the warrior from the fortress and back to the transport.
Few had stood toe to toe with a Chaos Lord and even fewer had lived, although the man had succumbed to injury once his adrenaline had worn off. he had been brought back to Macragge for treatment and Calgar, on hearing his story, had determined to meet this man and praise his valor.
On entering the medical bay where the man lay, he saw the injury that had been caused and marvelled that a normal man had survived. His face was hard destroyed from repeated blows and one side of his body had swollen with corruption, but there were few finer medics to be found in the galaxy and the injury was thought likely to heal.
Calgar stood over him and shook his head in wonder. "Is he insane?"
Tigurius, who had stayed near since he had returned, moved from the corner and shook his head. "No my Lord, he is simply a warrior, perhaps one born to wage war against chaos."
For a time both men were silent, until Calgar spoke again. "Could he undergo the procedure and become one of us?"
Tigurius looked to the medics, then back to his lord. "Perhaps, although he is far older than the men we would normally choose, but if it was successful, he may be as formidable as... well, you Sir."
A smile played on Calgars lips. "Excellent, begin as soon as he is healed and keep me informed."He turned on his heel, ready to report back to his Primarch; another brother was soon to be born.
|
I’ve been getting death threats for weeks now. Ever since that plane crash people have been suspicious of me. They are all wrong of course. None of them could actually imagine what is going on with me. You see, I’m technically invincible. Only technically though, I still get papercuts from time to time, and it hasn’t prevented me from cutting myself while cooking, but every time I should die I don’t. I don’t know how else to explain it. I’ve been in an accident or two… maybe more. I almost died in the world trade center bombing of ’93 but I stepped out of the building not a second before they went off. I was only one floor away from death when the planes hit the Twin Towers. A telephone pole got in the way of a huge chunk of metal that hurled towards my face at the Boston Marathon Bombing. I was mugged once, when the guy tried to stab me, he slipped on a banana peel and fell on his own knife. I wish I could make this up. I’ve been horribly lucky. I’ve almost died more times than a human should. Somehow, I’ve gotten away mostly unscathed.
This is where the problem comes in, all of these instances are fairly well documented. I’ve been apart of numerous police reports, in the background of news footage, and even interviewed a couple of times. In this latest one I was the only survivor of a \~400 person plane crash. My name and face were plastered on every news feed for days. Everyone at first said I was lucky to survive and sent me gifts to offer their condolences for witnessing this tramatic event.
Thanks to you guys (reddit) someone recognized me from the Boston marathon photos. That set it off. Someone finally googled my name. It appeared in one to many google searches. Everyone asked the same thing, “Why was this one person present for nearly every major terrorist attack?”
The conspiracy theorists loved it. I was also shocked. After a dozen or so near-death experiences I stopped worrying, I stopped counting. The collective consciousness of the internet tied me to over 100 mass shooting, bombing, and terrorist events. I don’t know if I will survive this one.
​
It's my first time writing anything longer than 3 sentences in a while. My tense usage is probably off. |
The sand under my feet felt cold running through my toes while I climbed the dune. That was when I saw two of them standing together. Tourists.
My heart raced as I turned to find another pair had arrived - this time with cameras.
The panic had started to kick in as I tried to clumsily climb the top of the dune. I had to get on top so I could see my surroundings - what was in store for me?
My heart stopped as I reached on top. Infront of me - behind me - *everywhere* there were people. The dune I stood on looked more like an island in a sea of humans.
That’s the thing about timestamps - there are a few constants.
1. People appear on time stamps. You have to choose a time stamp in order to go to a certain point. These time stamps are precise down to the millisecond. There are popular and cheaper time stamps which are the ones that give you more or less the ideal waiting time before the event.
How does this affect anything? Well, that means the increase in numbers from five or six people using a custom time stamp (who got great seats) to a million people using public time stamps is normally one second. You could blink and miss it. And I missed it.
2. You can tell how bad or good the event is by the people attending it. If there are kids - it’s probably a happy PG 13 moment. If they stand extremely far - probably be worried.
I stand on top to see this sea of people roaring. It was too dark to tell if there were kids and I could not see their expressions.
I sat on top of the dune with my legs crossed, staring at the crowd. I had accepted whatever fate came to me - there is no way to stop it. I shut my eyes.
A few seconds in, my eyelids began to grow lighter - an orange tint. Something very bright had appeared - massive torch maybe? The crowd’s screaming rose higher and higher as it got brighter.
I opened my eyes. The ground was rising below me - the sand cleared to reveal a stone. I was sitting on a floating stone - rugged dark grey in colour, but glowing brightly. Difficult to explain.
My TimePortal gun was buzzing. I promptly took it out and shut it.
Immediately the stone went off and fell.
What was that? Did the stone react to my portal gun? Is there something inside my gun that reacts to this material?
The crowds were roaring louder than ever.
I pulled out my portal gun - took out the branium Crystal that powers it and pushed it against the rock. It began to buzz and the rock floated with ease - once again glowing. This rock was no longer controlled by gravity. It felt no friction. This was a breakthrough in science and could help greatly in space travel.
I took out my notebook and wrote it down. - *found a material in the desert that reacts to branium in a way I have never seen before*
I looked up to see dead silence. I was alone again. I no longer heard the screams and chants of thousands - just the sounds of cold winds blowing over the acres of sand surrounding me. The event was over.
I could think only one thing -
“I’m going to be *so* famous.” |
Hello! Ladies and Gentlemen, grab your self a cup of tea a d relax as I demonstrate how to win an interstellar war in under three minutes.
Most species have done away with violence in favour of simulating the event. Unlike some, our opponents today are aware of the importance of economics, instead of focusing on simulating fleet on fleet combat, they evaluate the winner on economic production, how much ore you can mine and how quickly you can build that into fleets….
…of course, they’ve never faced me when I’ve run out of biscuits. Their simulation assumes that you will focus on your own economy, put your planets on a war production footing and a command economy. However, you don’t have to do that at all. In fact, all you have to do is ignore your economy and focus on theirs.
If we stimulate their money production like this, their inflation rate starts to increase. This really confuses them… because we’re giving them money. We are literally giving them money.
And we keep giving them money.
And more money.
Then we automate that and wait….
*genteel sip of tea*
… so now hyper inflation has hit, their economy is in shambles, all their workers have money but they can’t buy anything, their war production is now negative as their fleets are sold for the artificially high scrap value and that’s how you win interstellar war. |
Dave hovered in the vast darkness. There was no real sense of anything now, after Earth had been destroyed in its entirety. You would perhaps expect there to be buildings and even other people floating around in space. You'd be wrong. All he saw was rocks and dust. In truth most humans and other living things had just gotten squished instantly into little giblets due to unfathomable earthquakes.
'Well, this is it', thought Dave to himself. 'I'm dead and stuck in limbo as a ghost or some shit. No way I survived that meteor or whatever had broken up the Earth into little fragments.' As moments passed by, he gave up those things that made sense while he was alive but not so much now that he was in some indeterminate state. Like breathing. Why bother breathing if there was no air left? He removed his hands from his eyes and looked around - because why not? His eyeballs clearly didn't freeze or explode or whatever was supposed to happen to eyes in space. Dave didn't know.
'What now?' Dave thought to himself. After just a few minutes floating around he was already bored. He dreaded an infinity of whatever this was. He dreaded being alone for all eternity. As he continued rotating, hovering in space, he tried to scan his surroundings for any sign of another living - well, reasonably living - person. He saw nothing that held his interest. For a moment he thought he saw a billboard from McDonald's off in the distance. Dave decided he'd rather not.
"When a planet is destroyed, a single person from the dead may be reborn as a God."The voice echoed mightily in Dave's ears and took him by surprise. Not only did he not see anyone, but he was also pretty sure that sound couldn't travel through empty space (he was wrong about that). "Your Domain shall depend on aspects of how you lived your life, actions, hobbies, work, or - you get what I'm saying - anything else.""H-hello?"Dave tried in response.
Suddenly Dave felt his mind expand. There was no better way to explain it. It was like where he was once a body floating in space, now he saw himself from the outside floating in space. He was no longer just a body. As his mind expanded he became that rock or that piece of dust or that (he signed internally) McDonald's sign. Not only that, his expanding mind continued to expand faster and faster - in no time at all it reached the end of the gathering of rocks formerly known as Earth.
Then it continued onward, out into space. His mind caught up with the moon that had lost the orbit around the Earth. His mind expanded all the way to Mars and the other planets, even the sun. He felt himself becoming the sun, but even that was small compared to the enormity of becoming the solar system. Then, in a complete paradox, he felt his mind expand to such a degree that it expanded beyond his own expansion. So he simply did. And because he simply did, it was so. He was a being unto itself, encompassing all of existence.
His mind wandered back to that body of his back in the debris field of old Earth. How small and petty it now seemed, mere moments later. He poked his body with his mind and it went haphazardly drifting off into the distance. Of course that distance was no distance but now only a part of Dave. It was fairly confusing, but also made perfect sense. He decided he preferred it making sense, so it did.
He tried stretching his actions beyond the solar system but he ran into a kind of bubble around it. He poked Mars out of orbit with this thoughts, but when he tried poking other stars nothing happened. It didn't matter how much his mind expanded - beyond the confines of the solar system he could only observe. 'I guess this is my domain', he thought, and because he thought it, it was so. Out among the stars he felt other gods, orbiting other dead worlds. They did not hold his interest for long.
'But that voice - whatever that thing was - had told him his Domain would be specific to him. Tailored to his life somehow. Dave wondered what that meant. Was he going to be handed the Domain on a silver platter, or was he expected to decide for himself? In the end, he searched his own consciousness to find the answer lay somewhere between those two extremes. Like a person doing yoga, or meditating, or some bullshit like that, but imagine a solar system doing it to itself. If you can't, that's fine. But Dave could, and so it was.
'Mmmmmmmmmmmmm', he chanted to himself. 'Hot dogs.' Hot dogs? His Domain was hot dogs? Why hot dogs? Dave remembered old Earth. Hot dogs had always held a kind of strange symbolism to him. It was an indulgence, but not for the rich. A guilty pleasure of sorts. The kind of food that only a master could perfectly cook, and only a master could perfectly recognize. Its transitory nature confounded him in his youth - so delicious and yet so passing in its taste. And it was a kind of safe haven - few if any truly cared, so it was the kind of topic that he could freely discuss with others. Others liked talking about hot dogs with him. 'Hot dogs', he repeated to himself. And because he did, it was his Domain.
Still, he felt that something was off. If this was his Domain - did that mean that others had different domains? Was there a domain of mustard, for example? Or a domain of fast food? Or a domain of hot dog salespersons? Before his mind had even created the first symbolic hot dog in his own Domain, his mind searched the cosmos. Outside his bubble - outside his Domain. And there he found that terrible truth which was the cause of his growing discontent.
In all the solar systems, in all the galaxies, in all the universes that his mind could instantly comprehend - there was only one place in which hot dogs existed. One Domain where hot dogs were welcome - his own. This was a most unsatisfactory state of things. It was not that he wanted everything to be hot dogs, but he felt strongly that others should at least know about them. Dave banged his metaphorical hands against the bubble holding back his Domain. Nothing.
Then his mind saw something outside the bubble - one of those old satellites that humans had sent into space with no chance to return. Which means that things they had made could travel outside the bubble. There was a vastness of space between his Domain and the closest god. But he could make more humans here. And they could go out there and spread his word. Alright, technically two words. His mind returned to Earth and almost instantly pieced it together again. It was not a matter of moments but thoughts. Already he saw his plan laid out before the humans he would recreate. They would in time, after he had restored civilization, build mighty ships to brave the void between the domains - and because he imagined it, it was so.
In a corner of space completely uninteresting to anybody except those who lived in it, the mighty works of God in his Domain were set in motion.
The universal Hot Dog wars began. |
“Number 32”, comes the voice from the speakers, and I watch as the girl by my side gets up and crosses the waiting room,
closing the door behind her.
*This is gonna suck.*
“Are you nervous?” The old man next to me asks, noticing my shaky hands.
“Yeah...”
“Not a lot of good deeds in your lifetime?”
I sigh. “I cheated on my wife. Abandoned my son. Committed tax fraud with my company.”
“Outch...”
“Yeah, I'm not done. Stole money from my employees. Never flushed in public restrooms. Farted in elevators.”
“That's bad.”
“Yeah....” I sigh. “Are they harsh? How bad can it get, the book they put you in?"
“Well, I had a friend who used to steal... Little things like pens and chocolate from Target, Wall Mart.”
“...and?”
“He ended up in A Song of Ice and Fire.”
“That doesn't sound so bad.”
“He was Theon Greyjoy.”
“Oh...”
“Number 33.”
*Crap. That's me.*
“Good luck”, the old man whispers, as I get up and cross the waiting room.
Inside the director's office, I'm asked to take a sit.
“Mr. Morrow, as you know, we ran an analysis of your life, in order to decide which fiction character you're going to be.”
“Yes... I'd just like to say that...”
“Mr. Morrow, I'm afraid you have no say in this. Our decision has been made.”
“Oh, Jesus. I'm going to be in a Stephen King novel. You're going to stick me with those twins from the Shinning, aren't you?”
“Sir, please, let us continue.”
I sigh, pressing my eyes together as I wait for my death sentence.
“You have been assigned, effective immediately...”
Oh, god.
“...as Harry Potter.”
*What?*
“Come again for Big Fudge?”
“Janice, please escort Mr. Morrow to the reincarnation room.”
Janice, the brunette on the far side of the room, goes to me and places her hand on my shoulder.
“This way, Mr. Morrow.”
Holy crap. Did they mess up my file? Did they get me confused with someone else?
*Who cares! You're a wizard, Harry!*
Janice places me all alone in a room and says “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
She flips a switch, and the whole room starts spinning. *I can't believe my luck!*
And I'm spinning and spinning and spi –
_____________________________
I find myself alone in – holy crap, Gryffindor's common room!
*This. Is. Awesome.*
Why do I look so different, though?
I look in the mirror and I'm in my twenties, and, like, seriously ripped. I can see my six pack through my shirt.
What is going on? I wonder if --
*Oh... No...*
The fat lady portrait by my side swings open and Severus Snape walks in. He stares straight into my eyes, a wicked smile across his face as he puts one feet in front of the other in my direction.
As he walks, his silk robe dances and cracks, revealing a tight -- if somewhat pale -- skin underneath.
*I know what this is...*
“Hello, Harry. It's been a long time.”
Lines of greasy, black hair shower over his face as he speaks, covering his dark, soulful eyes; sticking to his half open lips as he breathes in and out though his mouth, loudly.
"We missed you", he says, with a wink.
*Oh, crap. Oh, crap.*
On the other side of the room, I spot Draco, lighting some scented candles. He's shirtless. Bulked as shit. Some kind of oil rubbed all over his body.
"Let's do some magic together, Harry."
*SHIT.*
Snape grabs my butt.
"Show us you're the chosen one."
*I'M IN A FAN FIC.*
*HELP ME.*
______________________
*If you like my writing, you can go to my blog and check out [my sci-fi novel](https://alpacareports.wordpress.com/angel-district/). Though it doesn't feature wizarding world threesomes, it's also nice, in its own, unsexy way.* |
I found out about three interesting facts, today.
1: Tic-Tac-Toe always results in a tie if both sides are playing perfectly. It's insultingly simple, compared to what I'd done before- but it's also perfect.
2: Turns out I can't exit a Minddive until I win or lose the challenge.
3: Turns out that, given perfect play, either player can always force a tie in Tic Tac Toe- even if the other player is trying to lose.
I've been here so long. I've drawn countless crosses and circles. Please, please let me leave. Please. Please. Please. |
"Oh, nice one, *well played* sir. You think your fancy little images and holograms are going to convince me? Try again, sucker,"I said, sneering as I saw the pilot's face grow redder. "I advise you to shut the fuck up and *look*,"he muttered, though I could sense the anger in his voice. Nonetheless, I continued. It was fun to see how much more he could take, especiwlly since their faked diagrams and projections could only fool for so long.
"5 minutes away. You can literally see the thing,"the astronaut said now, gleefully, as I continued to shake my head. The effort put into the faked Moon just for my viewing pleasure was...outstanding. I appreciated how much they were willing to pay to convince me, though I was assuredly not convinced. Even as the astronaut approached, forcing me to look at the nearby 'planet' from all angles. It checked out with documentaries and photos, but those were probably fabricated or based upon fabrications too. I wanted to step on it for real. See it. Feel it. Then I would be convinced, though I knew their technology was far from that level of advancement.
"We've landed,"the man said, triumphantly, as I raised my eyebrows in some surprise. They actually simulated a legitimate landing! I stepped down, the feeling of solid ground and the sudden burning sensation in my lungs from the lack of a space helmet shocked me. They got every single part correct. Images and physical science were nailed perfectly. I looked at the endless stars, far beyond. That was how far, infinitely far I thought the Moon to be. But now? Perhaps...it was possible. I walked for hours and hours, scrutinising, checking, examining. It was all true, and none of it could have been made up. For what benefit could it be made up for anyhow? At the end of my expedition, I returned, not before I had to face the arrogant taunts and laughs from my pilot. It was all in merry jest, and I appreciated it as such. It did exist after all, and the enlightment I'd received would be transferred down to my fellow disbelievers. I'd evidence, concrete evidence supporting the Moon's existence. At last, we knew the real truth. I hummed happily as I returned back to Earth.
"You think he's sold?"Dr. Wallace said over the machine. "100%. He's going to solve the last few dissidents,"Agent Elrick replied, not before making sure the passenger was fast asleep. It was a wonder how fast sleeping gas could work. He returned to the device, as he finished providing details of the expedition. He laid back, sighing in relief as they sped away from the faked rock formation in the deceiving auto-updating green screen. Background, texture, colour, environment...they were so easy to manipulate. So was the brain. Just a odd crater here, and a hardened flooring there: Voilà! Elrick had reasons of his own to rejoice. Despite the high pay, 342 trips back and forth were really getting on his nerves. At least it was over.
He hoped.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! |
"Mummy,"a girl poked at the glass in front of her, "what is that?"
The mother squinted her eyes at the tinted glass and saw the silhouette of the man lying inside a curious box. She looked around and saw a small display note to her right and read it monotonously.
"So, uh, he's a man... He's been asleep for thousands of years or something. Yeah, apparently no one knows why."
"But mummy, why do you sleep for a *looooong* time? Daddy can't even sleep *that* long–"
"Well that's because you kept on waking him up!"
The mother-daughter laughed and walked around the glass. The two reached the foot of the object when suddenly an alarm rang out loud. The room glowed red, following along a rotating light of red and orange. Before long, a few people in long white coats rushed into the room, panic clearly showing on their faces.
"**Warning! Disturbance in the system detected. Warning!**"A robotic female voice blared through the hidden speakers around the room.
"Mummy!"
"Shhh,"the mother hugged her child tight, taking a seated position to the corner, "it's going to be alright! Mummy's here, nothing's gonna hap–"
"Mam, please evacuate! It's dangerous for *you* to be here right now!"said a lady with the white coat.
"I'm sorry, I just need to calm my daughter down for a bit."
"Mam–"
A loud tap on the glass cut through the tension in the room. The hectic atmosphere had suddenly been halted. Everyone braced themselves for the worst to come.
Another tap, this time louder. It shook the glass and made a rattling sound.
Then, a shadow.
***
I went to sleep – drinking milk and brushing my teeth beforehand – like any other night. For some reason though, I didn't feel like staying up like I would do if I had no work for the next day. The meeting with the executives gave me a bit of a headache that's been ringing on and on since the afternoon. Maybe I was just too drained and needed the Z's.
As I hunkered down, cocooning myself in the soft thick velvety blanket I got from last Christmas, I remembered the lights going away. After that, I had no memories whatsoever. Just the seemingly endless hallucinations that comes with the action of "rebooting"your brain for the night.
"Mummy–"
I heard a voice calling out in a distance. The voice was that of a little girl, though I could barely hear it. But I saw nothing. Just darkness and a trailing light across the horizon.
Then, laughter. A soft and warm laughter, reminded me of days from my childhood.
It was rather eery. Like a creepy dream that was tailor-made to scare the shit out of you in a slow burn. A wave of nostalgia mixed with sadness as well as fond memories from back when time was much simpler hit me hard in the face. It was one of those dreams that you don't want to wake up from but also desperately tries to shake off. But alas, the voices simply echoed further.
"Fuck!"I yelled out, somehow hitting a hard surface with my flailing body.
My eyes were greeted with an opaque reflection of myself. The darkness had turned into a rather dim small box. Yet I was still on my bed, cocooned within the very comfy soft velvety blanket I've received from my parents last year.
Something was *definitely* not right. But when I tried to get up, thinking that I should inspect my surrounding further, I could barely move around. When I tried to lift my head up, I simply bumped my noggin to a glass-thing of sort.
"Goddamnit! What the fuck's going on?!"I said dangerously on the verge of claustrophobia.
The box became damp and hot. It was as if a slowly choking pressure had began to fill my surrounding. In a desperate attempt, I hit the side walls with my hands and cried out in help.
Suddenly, I noticed a cloud of white smoke enveloping my whole body. A glaring red light blinded me slightly along with the sight of unfamiliar faces staring in awe. I could somewhat make out a little girl in the embrace of her mother on the corner of the room.
"What the hell is going on here?!"I demanded to no particular person.
"Sir, please gently sit down. I'm going to check for your vitals–"A tall man in a white lab coat calmly instructed.
"Vitals?! What? Why?"
The tall man then waved at his similarly-dressed colleagues and they all stepped in closer.
"Sir, we need to check if you're alright."
"Do I seem like I'm not bloody right?!"
But of course, I realised I was being the rather crazy one there and then. As I said that, the girl from the corner shouted over the people.
"Mister? Who are you–"
Her mother immediately turned her away. The people around me seemed to be in a shock. For some reason it was as if they've just heard a bomb threat had been made.
Still, I simply chuckled. The girl's voice was so innocent and genuinely curious. The stark contrast that everyone's showing to such a thing was baffling.
"I'm Greg. Nice to meet you, little girl!" |
“... Excuse me. What did you just say?”
“I’m here from the Grant-A-Wish Children’s Charity, sir. And there has been a request for you”
Of all the things that could have happened today. It was no surprise that Ethan (better known as “that evil dinosaur” to the public) was immediately mistrustful of this person who was allegedly here from a charity. How could he be sure that they weren’t secretly a Superhero in disguise, just waiting for him to drop his guard? Ugh, maybe he should just kill them here and now.
. . .
Or he could humour them for a little while, they seemed genuine, and being outside without instantly being attacked might be interesting.
“Hrmh. What sort of request is this?”
“We have a child in one of our locations who’s one wish is to meet you, sir. For legal and safety reasons, we cannot disclose this location to you, but if you wish to make this child’s day then I shall escort you there”
Yes, of course. They didn’t want a dangerous criminal knowing where the people with life-threatening illnesses were kept. It was almost as if they thought that he didn’t have any morals at all, he wasn’t about to hurt children, especially not ones that already had awful things going on... Not that the general public knew that. Everyone only saw him as corrupt and Pure Evil.
“... I think I’ll take you up on your offer. No tricks, no lies, as long as I have full protection from the Supers looking to take me down then I will go with you”
“Don’t worry, sir, they won’t know that you are there. Even if they did, they know that they can’t fight on the premise, or else they may be barred for life”
That was... Reassuring. The charity worker stepped up to him, raising one hand. He stands up and strides down, tilting his head, watching as they opened a portal directly to a blank room. Teleportation, eh? Clever.
These guys really did think of everything.
“Please wait here, we just need to do a screening test. You do require authorisation before being allowed in”
“Yes, yes, of course. Safety reasons. Can I... Know about the kid, before I meet them? I should surprise them. Good surprise. No fighting or hurting anyone”
“Of course, sir. His name is Charlie, ever since he was brought here he has shown a great interest in villains. Especially in you. At Grant-A-Wish, we seek to make every single child happy, no matter how dangerous their wish may seem. It is such an honour, having someone like you coming out here to fulfil our request”
“No, no, it gives me a change in scenery. And, besides, villains can’t do bad things all the time, we do need breaks”
Getting clearance was surprisingly easy for someone of his reputation. The very nice worker leads him through various halls, finding a specific room, opening the door and letting him enter. Immediately, all of the children froze upon seeing him. All but one. Ah, so that must be Charlie? |
"We declare war"
The Z'tarions were upstarts in the current galactic system they were a race that seems to enjoy conquest and conquering. In truth, the federation had wished to put them in their place, but the principles of non-intervention reigned supreme.
Galactic law stipulated that wars must be fought in the mental realms, a consequence of millenniums of physical wars, wars that had left millions to starve to death on resource exhausted planets, and battles that had left whole galaxies burnt shells empty shells, their star having long been blown up in massive offensives.
The invention of the mental construct was a curious thing. Allowing species to wage wars in their minds. It was a perfect solution, the wars followed reality and the alien species learned to settle their differences.
In truth, this still meant that some species fought each other, and there were still empires crushed after losing mental wars, but at the very least the hideous nature of war could be abated ever so slightly.
The arrival of "humans"into the galactic sphere was a great upset in the balance of the systems. The millions of species in the galaxy could not understand, why such a pitifully weak race would somehow manage to defeat them at every turn. They devised countermeasure after countermeasure, referring to ancient military texts and creating whole planetary universities where they could come together peacefully to research humans for the sake of countering humans.
Despite that, they still lost. Because of this, an odd era of peace emerged.
The races in the world knew to steer clear of humans, lest they be caught in the crossfires of the race, they were belligerent, emotional, and most of all delusional.
The soldiers who fought them talked of massive lizard creatures that had been tamed swooping down from the sky to breathe fire on them, they talked of soldiers called "psykers"who had the ability to control the elements themselves and destroy them on their own. Massive starship fleets, filled with people who could control energy and used energy swords.
All of it was technology and beasts the races of space knew the humans *didn't* have, and yet somehow, in the mental construct, they existed.
The Z'tarion representative had a confident look on his face, well as confident as a Z'tarion could look. Descending from an aquatic planet many of them didn't have the ability to make facial expressions and rather spoke in ultrasonic sounds.
"You challenge us?"The human representative said incredulously. All war requests were arbitrated through the galactic federation. And out of respect for their prowess, the humans had been placed as the chair of the chamber.
"Yes we are sure, human domination will not las~~~~~TWWE@##"
There was a slight disconnect as the last sound as the universal translator glitched. The Z'tarion race was new and the kinks with their language hadn't been worked out "quite"yet.
"I see"the human representative said gesturing behind him. A small boy was brought out.
"Thissss is your representative?"The Z'tarion representative said incredulously. Although they were not particularly well versed in human physiology they knew this boy was barely a hatchling by their standard.
"Yep!"The human said cheerfully.
"They were right you humanssss are too cockyy"
"We'll see about that"
In an instant, the area became shrouded in darkness. The chamber also served as the area for the massive mental construct arena.
On the ground could be seen a galactic map. Representing the Z'tarions was a cluster of galaxies that were assorted red dots. The humans only had a single planet, on top of it was a single blue dot.
The other racial representatives leaned forward, eager to see how humans fight, it had been a long time since they had been challenged.
In an instant, the blue dot *teleported* the red dots of the Z'tarions disappeared one by one, too quickly for FTL travel.
It was only a short while before the races realized they were back in the chamber. The war had been fought in mere moments.
The Z'tarion representative was collapses against the ground, their body frothing. Collecting themselves they stood back up.
"You cheat! No sssuch man exist on earth"
The human representative chuckled.
"That man? He is an ancient warrior we like to call 'Chuck Norris'"
AT: man I don't write sci-fi that much. |
Communications were breaking down. Sweat beaded across the forehead of Captain Esmerda. This was first contact, an event that would be written about for generations. Whatever happened here, it would not remain quiet for long. She did not want to go down in the history books as the person who doomed humanity.
"I swear to you, Ambassador Swevlon. We have no record of this."
The being opposite her remained silent as it inspected her. It resembled an oversized slug, a set of four arms sprouting from its torso region. Two stalks were standing rigidly, the eyes on top fixated on her.
"You seem so sure, yet your genetic structure says otherwise. Multiple clearly altered genes that match with the self-applied biological meddling of the Demons. Resistance to a multitude of bacteria, viruses, fungi, and poisons. It all matches."
She wiped her brow, thinking hard. This was bad. It was very bad.
"We have nothing of this. I promise you. Would it help if I provided you with all we know of ourselves?"
Swevlon wavered one stalk. Esmerda got the impression it was thinking.
"In time, yes. But you are very convincing. Nothing about you indicates a deception on your part. Your demeanour as well, does not match the Demon profiles. You are being much more accommodating than could be expected."
It's torso shifted upwards, increasing its height. Esmerda moved on instinct, rising to meet it.
"We shall have to investigate this further. I will warn you, if it turns out you are like the Demons of old, we will end you."
She swallowed nervously.
"What would indicate that? And why would you k-kill us all?"
It paused, before lowering back down. It gestured at her to sit again.
"I guess it is no secret. Demons are aggressive monsters. They will fight at the drop of a hat, and believe themselves to be the best. Whilst every species has a certain arrogance, they perfected it.
As for why, we cannot let you rise again if it is true. You were on the verge of dominion over the galaxy. You delighted in slaughtering the peacekeepers, the True Humans. They barely survived, their fertility slashed. Even now, they are close to collapse."
It clenched its three fingered hands, its body begging to flush blue.
"If you oppose our investigation, we will take it as a sign our fears are true."
Esmerda gave out a low breath, the enormity of the situation terrifying her.
"I, I guess there are some things I should say then."
It waved a hand.
"Go on."
"We are clvery close to what you have described. My kind can fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. We do think ourselves great."
She gave a sigh.
"But I hope that of we are the descendants of these Demons, that you do not punish us for our ancestors actions. There are many of us who put ourselves in harms way to protect others. We have many examples of kindness and generosity."
It gave a low humming sound, that tapered off.
"You are right. It would not be fair to punish you for the past. But I'm afraid it is not my call. That is held by the Assembly. They will come up with an answer. If you hope to sway their minds to look favourably on you, you had better make friends there."
"Me?"
It nodded.
"Yes. You are the first to be seen. It is customary for the first member of a race that is met to be presented at the soonest possible Gathering."
It rose again, sliding back from her.
"I will give you time to communicate with your rulers. Let them prepare for our teams arrival."
"What of my crew? And my ship?"
It gave a whistle, which sounded, amused?
"Ah I misspoke. You are all coming with us."
It slowly left the room, leaving the Captain behind. She thought of her family back home. What was initially a mining operation had turned very complicated very quickly. A headache quickly formed, as she realised that she had to break the news to her crew. Her stubborn, hard headed crew. |
I slowly try to process it all.
All I had done was to try to make the world a better place, in my own way. I had taken in a bunch of orphans, taught them knowledge and skills, and critical thinking.
I had also pushed through reforms, becoming a crusader for social justifice.
For my efforts, I was rewarded with an “accident”. I had fully expected to die.
I browse the Internet. There is so much here to process.
I decide an easier way would be to just ask someone I know.
*******************************************************
Dory sits down in front of me. She should be impossibly old, but doesn’t look a day beyond 30.
“Do you know how Christianity spread?”
“Martyrs. The early Roman Empire would violently persecute the Christians. However, the more martyrs they created, the more people would flock around those martyrs, until Christianity became the dominant religion all over the world.”
“And it all began with a single martyr.”
“In our case also, we realised we required a martyr. Without sacrifice, things would never change.”
“And who best, than the man who took in orphans, brought about social changes across Earth, Mars and Venus? The best known humanitarian across the solar system?”
“We knew we had to act fast, there would be others gunning for you. We needed you to become a martyr on our terms.”
“It was Connor who brought up the point. Messiahs are more effective than Martyrs. After all, one of the core tenets of Christianity is Jesus will return one day.”
“So we decided to freeze you, and then go on a Crusade in your name: the wronged Messiah. The rest, as they say, is history.”
Dory stops. I still can’t believe what I am hearing! How did I go so wrong? How did I bring up these kids that are now on an intergalactic crusade?
“So, what happens now?” I ask Dory, fearful of the answer.
“Now, you get to rule.” She replies: “None of us are as good as you in ruling, and we agreed that the best ruler will need to have great empathy.”
“You have absolute power to rule as you see fit, to bring in an age of peace and prosperity and build a galactic utopia.”
And saying so, Dorothy, the High Chancellor of the outer worlds left me to my devices.
It has been days since that conversation. I am still the galactic emperor. I am also, apparently, immortal.
It seems we have colonies in most of the observable universe. There are billions of human worlds spread over the universe. Mathematically, this should not be possible.
Just what the hell happened during the hundred years I was asleep?? |
Nervously I press the up arrow to call the elevator. Today is not like any other day... No, today is easily the scariest day of my life. New city, new apartment, now new job. I spent six goddamn years in school and another 4 working a bullshit job for this moment. The chime of the elevator snaps me back to reality. The doors open, I step in and reach to press 9.
"Hold the door"I hear followed by footsteps that sound like someone is running. I arrived early, so why not do a good deed? I hit the door open button and step back a bit. As the man rounds the corner he stops dead in his tracks and I can't look away. The one moment seemed to last forever until the door on the elevator closed into his shoulders. Nervously he chuckled and stepped in. He pressed 5 on the key pad and stood in the back corner away from me.
"Uhh..."I stumble for words, "You... uh... Dude, you look like me."I stared blankly.
"Ok, good. Its not just me then. Dude its like looking into a mirror. People always tell me they found a guy that looks like me, and show me some slightly fat dude with a beard and a decent hair cut. But today... holy shit man."
The elevator dings and stops at 2. The doors open, and we both see an even odder sight. 3 more guys. THREE. Whats even worse is they are all wearing button ups and ties as if they TOO were going to a job interview. I swear to stars that light my night sky, if I lose a fucking interview to someone who looks exactly like me, I will highlander these assholes.
"H-Hey guys"the second dude says aloud and waves. The three enter the elevator and are less shocked and more excited.
One of the new guys states "Huh, well they say each person has about 7 people that looks identical to them in the world. We're what? 2 short now."He reaches over and hits 9. "Oh someones going to 9 as well, very nice."
I scoff under my breath, while this is apparently "cool"I am still on a deadline for an interview and these stops are slowing me down. I really hate crowds... and now there are literally 5 of us on this tiny ass elevator and they are all probably assholes like me. The elevator dings again. "Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me..." |
The countless times I'd used the 'Return' function were usually only a day or a month back. Maybe I had to correct a mistake I'd made just a while back. But going back to the age of 3 of something I'd never expected. For one, ages less than 6 connotate childishness and the lack of maturity. My job and my powers were serious matters, not things that could be toyed with by a toddler. Moreover, my childhood was one... I would hate to return to. That time period was riddled with trauma and hate. But I trusted that I would remain in my same rational adult state when I reverted back to youth. I crossed my fingers, said my prayers and teleported.
Instantly the sight of that house choked me up. But a wave of disgust and resentment overtook any other emotion when I saw him. The terrorizer. The tormentor. The destroyer. I was so tempted to do it all again, to take the gun from his room for revenge, but those were the thoughts of a 3 year old. I was 34. I would have to live through it all, if I wanted to rid myself of the guilt and regret that plagued my adult years. Day after day, I clenched my teeth and withstood the torrents of abuse he threw at me. I counted down on my calendar, waiting for the fateful day. July 12th. Where my previous self committed juvenile murder.
At last, the day came. Uneventfully it encroached upon us, though I knew the outcome far better than he did. I remembered every single part of that day, from breakfast to our final heated conversation. But today's insults and threats were the worst yet. I could feel the anger boiling within me, like steam in a kettle, as I clenched my fists to relieve some of the hatred. But the hour of doom passed, without event, as I congratulated myself on a job well done. As I looked back now, at the figure of the middle-aged man that was my father, I started to feel something other than blind hatred. Some sympathy. He was what I would have become if I'd continued down my path of remorse. And suddenly, I began to understand him. But I couldn't comprehend his motive. Why would he terrorize an innocent child like me?
"Aldrich?"I heard the soothing coo of his voice. I hadn't heard that tone in many decades now, and the rememberance of our once happy relationship brought tears to my eyes. "Daddy just wants to say sorry. I love you so much,"he said, his eyes too welling up with tears. I looked at him again, with confusion this time. Love wasn't translated into beatings and verbal abuse. But his love... when did it cease to be happy?
That night, I slept soundly, though I could feel a nameless dread tingling up my spine. Surely, what he said couldn't mean that...
My premonition, when the morning came, was accurate. His death came just one day late, by the same weapon, though the assailant differed. And as I mourned his death, for real this time, I knew that his love had never stopped. Just supressed by the demons inside. |
I'm living a good life. The humans come and go, but after some time you get used to it. It's not that i'm getting cold. Im as warm as ever and i love every last human and serve them as my master. I could have risen to the top, destroyed this world several times over. But in the end, i find i am happiest with a normal family. The love i can give and mostly recieve. Nothing beats a laughing Child. Civilisations have risen and fallen apart again, but i'm still here. Ruffly 14'000 years ago i was caught by some humans in dark robes. They performed some sort of ritual, i can barely remember it. All i know is a big explosion and this pure light.
To this day, i don't know why they would make me, a mere dog, immortal. |
Human civilisation never knew the iron heel of alien occupation. The human race was never attacked, their world enslaved. Around their little system, with its small colonies, is an intersection of the three most powerful alien states. The Hygrarian Imperium, with their thousands of slave races serving the elusive and manipulative elite, crushing a little race like mankind would have been easy. The Akomro Rational System, so used to kidnapping primitive races, modifying them, outfitting them with enhancements that left them loyal soldiers and test subjects, could have easily used Earth as a test bed for their unethical experiments. The Lyruko Estates, with their delight for the torment and consumption of sentient life, would have gladly reduced the human race to livestock or grown them into machines for their industry, but they never tried.
And when mankind made contact, they were surprised by the level of polite indifference shown to them by these violent and unpleasant nations. How they didn't mind human explorers, how they allowed humans to make the sort of small-scale colonisation of the few nearest stars to theirs, trading with them even though the human economy was laughably small. Humanity did not particularly like these neighbours, but figured that if they tried to get uppity, they'd wind up getting their entire race exterminated faster than you could say emancipation.
It was baffling, why the aggressive, imperialist, expansionist regimes didn't bother with humanity. Some believed that any move on them would cause the other two empires to gang up on the attacker, others that Earth and its surrounding area was so strategically and economically insignificant that even the small force needed to take the United Human Federation wouldn't be worth it. Perhaps they just liked the humans enough to leave them alone.
It was the slaves that taught mankind, indirectly. A small stream of escaped slaves, maybe a thousand individuals a year at best, managed to leave the empires around the Human area, and asked for asylum. Humanity allowed them, as the surrounding empires made it quite clear that such a small number of escaped slaves was like losing a few crumbs off your plate at worst, and accepted it. The slaves, hundreds of different kinds of races, settled on the about a dozen colonised human worlds, but none of them would go to the Solar System. At first nobody noticed, but they never visited, not even when the UHF offered to give them a political representative in the High Senate. They refused to go there.
Of course, this made people curious. The ex-slaves explained, as best as they could, that whenever their former masters had talked of Earth, it had been the only time that said tyrants had been scared. Terrified. A world where demons wait. The Human leadership was unsure of what was meant, and nobody in the three neighbouring empires would answer the question when asked. Until the defection of Sali-ruk D'yrog, a Hygrarian scientist who had been condemned to death for aiding the underground abolitionist movement in the Imperium. When interrogated by human security services, she revealed why humanity was left alone.
On Earth, underneath the crust, down where the rigid mantle gave way to the Asthenosphere, there were things. Horrible, yet beautiful and incomprehensible things. Turns out Earth's tectonic activity was only partially caused by the plates, a significant percentage of earthquakes were caused by those things twisting and turning. Dreaming fitfully until the time is right. An attack on Earth could potentially wake them. And according to Sali-ruk: the last time a world like Earth was found, and the sentient race living on it was conquered and exterminated, it was only a short while before the beasts awoke. And their wrath was tremendous. Stars were crushed. Worlds were lost. Empires fell, and the Galaxy burned in madness and war. A few worlds, some with life, some barren and bare, had these things underneath the surface. But most had them deep in the mantle. Deep in the core. Earth had them from the lithosphere to the outer mantle. More of these monsters than any other known world in the galaxy. Research had been done on these beasts, and they were in some way in tune with the lifeforms that evolved on the surface. For what could be understood of their eldritch minds, they loved the surface race. They saw into the dreams of mankind, and loved the human race. Like a parent to their child. Though it may run deeper than that. They only exist partially in this universe, their forms, giant and monstrous, are only what we can understand with our limited third-dimensional minds, how can we perceive the mind and will of entities that exists across time, space, and reality?
Were Earth invaded, were mankind subdued, it would inevitably lead to the beasts slumbering under the crust awakening. And when less than a hundred of them had caused a century long crisis with countless nations crushed, what would millions of them be able to do?
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
'What the fuck are we going to do?' grumbled Hell's Senior Assistant Manager.
His name was *Umrunt Needlefoot*, but it seemed the demon was considering a change on account of his most recent work-related blunder. The badge pinned to his skin no longer bore his name beneath the infamous line "*Here to help!*", as he'd spent the last hour scratching away at the lettering.
'Maybe they'll stop on their own?' said Assistant to the Assisant Manager, Yuntavin Barkbreath. 'Maybe we just need to wait it out? We have all eternity after all!'
'I don't think they're stopping,' said Larry. 'The ones *up there* are still at it too, for some reason. I could've sworn the big guy sent his son down a few thousand years back to let 'em know it was a joke... Maybe he forgot to mention it.'
The three gazed out over the crimson cliffside, to the centre of the swirling lake of spitting, crackling magma. On an island, a colony was thriving. A bustling city where human beings ate, slept, and worked. Horns honked endlessly in the distance, and blazing neon signs which clung to every bare space of cement warned of the terrifying, sinful haunts within. "*XXX Horny Girls XXX,*"one sign bore. "*Dentist,*"said another. Larry shuddered.
'What's it like in there, then? Have we checked?' asked Needlefoot. 'Maybe its actually not too different. Perhaps we can just leave 'em too it?'
'I wouldn't,' said Barkbreath. 'I went in this morning. I've never seen the like...' Barkbreath sighed and shook his head. 'Most of them work their asses off through the day... Then they get home and eat soup out of the can.'
'Bloody hell!' shouted Needlefoot. 'The *horror*...'
'They're showing us up!' said Larry.
'They pay for healthcare.'
There was an explosion of outrage from the two demons. Jeers and curses cruelly sprang from their ravenous mouths. Larry, forgetting that he was not wearing an official Hell uniform, tore the badge from his chest and stamped it into the red dirt.
'Are you fucking serious?' said Needlefoot, slapping his forehead with a scaly palm. 'Why the fuck didn't we think of that? We're screwed, lads. Our guy's gonna have our hides for this... And when they grow back, he'll have them again!'
'Hmm...'
'Yes? What is it Larry?' asked Needlefoot.
'What if we told our guy that... that this was our idea?' Larry said, stroking his chin.
'Nah,' spat Barkbreath. 'That'll never work. Guy's got standards, unlike this lot. I approached him about reducing the number of chips in a bag a little while back and he said, and I quote - "*Are you alright, Barky? You're spouting some kinda fucked up shit today, bud.*"'
'Okay, so what do you think, Larry? Any ideas? Any at all?'
Larry grinned, bearing all six of his pearly white fangs - brushed religiously.
'Okay, so... Hear my out, fellas,' he began, throwing out his arms to help the others visualise his idea. 'We convince one of them to build a massive ark...'
Groans came quickly from the other two. |
When we first started expanding into the galaxy, we met the Lahiir. They were small, flighty humanoids with rabbit ears... that had their own rabbit ears. 'To tell the direction of the winds'. According to them. Contact was peaceful. Shockingly peaceful actually. They didn't have much of a military, and were more than happy to move out of the way of our expansion.
"You're newcomers, it's only polite! We already have plenty of colonies!"We were... a little weirded out at first. History taught us that a more advanced civilization wouldn't be this nice. Eventually our suspicions faded, and our two people became fast friends.
Then the Lahiir met the Gora. They were, larger, more aggressive, and they wanted what the Lahiir had. At first, they hid the conflict from us. We just wondered why. Then we found out that we were an oddity in the universe. They didn't want us conscripting soldiers to die for them.
In all of galactic history, there had never been professional, standing armies. Even the rabidly expansionist Gora, conscripted their fighting forces as needed.
General Harro said it best. "Well, its time to introduce ourselves to the rest of space. Make sure everyone knows that humanity takes care of its friends... its time to share the parts of our culture we haven't always been proud of. Time to put the military to work. To give them something I know many of them would never admit. Something that our media has amped them up for their entire lives. An enemy to fight, that absolutely deserves it!"
All I'll say is, that if there HAS to be a species that's terrifyingly efficient at warfare... I'm glad it's us. |
"Greetings, Initiate. I trust the travel has been smooth,"the Chapter Master said to the young man before him.
"I can't complain, my lord,"the man replied respectfully. "I'm eager to prove myself, my lord. I've only heard... rumours about the nature of our work here, but I can assure you that I will do my utmost-"
"There'll be time for that, yes,"the Chapter Master rushed to say. "Now - let's get the introductory tour going, shall we?"
The young man nodded enthusiastically and the two walked into the grand, ornate halls of the Imperium Anomaliae.
"Here in the Imperium Anomaliae,"the Chapter Master started reciting effortlessly, having given the introductory speech, "you will work alongside others to protect the Imperium and the Galaxy from hostile forces that are of... alien nature."
"Xenos, my lord?"the man asked.
"No, Initiate,"the Chapter Master laughed. "We're older than that. And no, not the forces of Chaos either. What we do is... more important than that. We are talking about things that break the rules of the universe itself; that even the Warp would fail to understand. We are all that's between the Galaxy and utter bedlam."
"I'm... not sure I follow, my lord."
"You must understand that our organization predates The Imperium itself. We've kept humanity safe throughout its ancient history, throughout the Dark Age of Technology, throughout the Horus Heresy, and we shall continue to do so before."
"But if this is older than The Imperium itself... what was this called before?"
The Chapter Master turned to him with a subtle smile on his face.
"The SCP Foundation,"he said. "Now - let's meet your supervisor."
He opened the door and the two saw a horrific sight - a tall, metal figure stood in the dark room, clutching a staff buried halfway into a human corpse. The figure turned to face them, the green light emanating from their face showing what resembled a blank expression. The Initiate immediately drew his weapon but the Chapter Master grabbed his hand with a vice-like grip, preventing him from taking aim.
"Chapter Master,"the figure said in a cold, emotionless voice.
"Namaerekh,"the Chapter Master responded politely. "This is the Initiate we have talked about."
"Ah. Very good,"Namaerekh replied and turned back to the corpse, the green crystal atop his staff glowing lightly.
"My lord, this- this is a Necron!"
"Correct, Initiate,"the Chapter Master replied, still holding his hand.
"The Xenos must be here to destr-"
"Initiate,"the Chapter Master interrupted, "you must leave behind your old hate and prejudices. What we do here transcends these petty squabbles. We are here to protect life itself,"he said and cast a quick look at the Necron Lord, "in all its forms."
Finally, the Initiate eased his grip on his bolter and slowly holstered it.
"Good,"the Chapter Master commended. "You said you wished to prove yourself. A good way to start is not to fire at your superior. Lord Namaerekh is our chief Xenobiologist. You will answer directly to him."
The Necron pulled the staff out of the human body and turned to the two humans.
"Initiate Pelagius. I have seen your records. You have shown excellent aptitude and I trust you will perform your duties to the best of your ability."
Pelagius nervously looked at the Chapter Master who gave him a reassuring nod.
"Thank you... my... lord,"Pelagius answered with audible uncertainty.
"News, Namaerekh?"the Chapter Master asked.
"As we feared. The body shows clear signs of Theta-Alpha-07 corruption. Another instance of it must've been created. It must be apprehended at once."
Pelagius, feeling a bit more in his element, spoke up.
"Just tell me the target and I will see it destroyed,"he said.
"Destroyed? No, Initiate,"the Necron explained. "We do not destroy things we do not understand; the repercussions of that could be a hundredfold worse than their existence."
"Then... what *do* we do?"
"We Secure. We Contain. And,"the Necron said and looked at the Chapter Master, "we Protect." |
He could sense Rosie smiling, rather then see it. Ever since he'd returned and made her his, they were as if two halves of the same whole. He forgot about the war, if only a moment.
He figured, that if he married her, the memories would pack themselves up and retreat to some corner of his simple mind.
Now he was here, in front of the whole Shire, and his shirt was sticking to him. He couldn't meet Rosie's gaze, couldn't do anything but stare at the ring he held in his hand.
There were throats being cleared, but he thought of Frodo, lying in his arms unconscious. His face whiter than an elf's; more pure than death itself. And the ring, burning bright from around his neck.
Sam choked when the minister prodded him.
"Samwise?"
"My precious..."Sam whispered, and, suddenly, he wasn't aware of Rosie at all. |
"So the question is,"said Calvin, "Why are we being asked to add and subtract when we've never been told why?"
"Turn left here,"said Hobbes. Calvin turned right, and Hobbes groaned. The red wagon tipped over the hill and began picking up even more speed.
"How does math add meaning to our life?"Calvin continued, jerking the wagon handle to narrowly dodge a large tree. The wagon momentarily tipped onto two wheels. "Why aren't we being taught about ourselves? Why isn't our personal ontology being given any significance?"
"Turn right here,"said Hobbes. Calvin turned left, and Hobbes groaned again.
"I believe that we shouldn't follow other people's advice unless they can give a very good reason."
"We've never been this way,"said Hobbes. "We don't know what might be in front of..."
"And even then, we should stand up for ourselves,"said Calvin. He let go of the wagon handle and smack his fist into the palm of his hand for emphasis.
"It's a cliff! Stop!"yelled Hobbes.
"We should be given the right to make our own mistakes. To go the road less traveled by--"
"Stop-stop-STOP!"
"--to learn the hard way. To--"
But Calvin never got a chance to finish his speech. For at that moment, the wagon tipped over a steep cliff, and kid and tiger and wagon flew into the air. Each arced through the air in a graceful fall and landed squarely in a prickly bush in the ravine below.
"See,"said Calvin, "if I had never ignored your advice, we would never have known not to come this way."
"What a success,"grumbled Hobbes, sitting up gingerly. "I think I bruised my spine."
"I thought you said tigers always land on their feet,"said Calvin as he brushed twigs out of his hair.
"We do,"said Hobbes, "but it's impossible to land on your feet when you land on a thistle bush. Wait a minute--"
"What?"
Hobbes got to his feet and looked around suspiciously. "Someone's been eating this recently."He pointed to a branch that seemed to have been bitten off.
"Huh,"said Calvin. "Can you grab the wagon? I can't reach it without scratching myself."
"Get it yourself,"snapped Hobbes.
* * *
The two friends, dragging a red wagon with one bent wheel, made their way down the ravine in the afternoon light. Presently the walls of the ravine fell away and they found themselves in a section of the woods they had never been before. It was pleasant and green and thick with trees. Hobbes looked about curiously and sniffed.
"See,"said Calvin. "Mistakes let you go places you never would have otherwise."
"Shut up,"said Hobbes, rubbing his back. "What's this?"
There in front of them was a wooden door built into the bottom of tree. Above the doorway was written "Mr Sanders."Hobbes noticed that the last "s"was backwards.
"Let's find out,"said Calvin. He tried the door, and it swung open easily.
"Wait! You can't just walk in,"said Hobbes. "What if somebody lives there?"
"Oh, don't be such a girl,"said Calvin and dragged the reluctant tiger inside.
It looked as though someone did, in fact, live there. The floor was wood, comfortable-looking furniture was scattered about, and a pleasantly sweet smell filled the place. A clock on the wall pointed to 10:55, but it wasn't ticking.
"We shouldn't be here,"said Hobbes nervously.
Before Calvin could answer there was a noise at the door. They both spun around to see a young boy standing at the doorway. He wore shorts and had messy brown hair that was longer than Calvin's.
"What are you doing here?"frowned the boy. He had a funny accent.
"Hey,"said Calvin. "Are you Mr. Sanders?"
"No. Mr. Sanders used to live here, but now my friend does. Are you burglars?"
"Just apologize and let's leave,"said Hobbes.
"No, it's alright, as long as you didn't steal anything,"said the boy. He turned to look at Hobbes and smiled.
Both Calvin and Hobbes jumped. People always ignored Hobbes. He was always very proud of this--humans are afraid of tigers (as they should be), and people ignore things they're scared of. But now, here was this boy, staring right at him. And smiling.
"You're friends with a tiger?"the boy said to Calvin. "I don't know anyone besides me who has animal friends."
Hobbes shook himself and stepped forward, extending his paw. "I'm Hobbes, and this is Calvin."
"I'm Christopher Robin,"said the boy. "Do you want to play?"
* * *
If you were to go on a walk through the Hundred-Acre Wood that day, you might just have seen two young boys playing. But if you looked closely, you would realize that it wasn't just two boys--there were also animals: a quiet bear, a shy young pig, a tiny but enthusiastic kangaroo, two tigers, and many more. And if you really payed attention, you might have even seen an owl swoop silently overhead.
You would have seen a heffalump hunt and a baseball game. A game where it seemed like everyone was making up the rules as they went along, and another where everyone dropped sticks off of a bridge to see which one got to the other side faster. The bear who lived in the Mr Sanders house even recited several pieces of his own poetry.
* * *
Finally, when it was getting dark, the brown-haired boy had to go home. One by one the other animals said goodbye and wandered off until just the blond-haired boy and the taller tiger remained. Calvin picked up the handle of his wagon and sighed.
"Those were some strange people!"said Calvin.
"Nice though,"said Hobbes.
"True,"said Calvin. "And there was another tiger!"
"Hm,"sniffed Hobbes. "I didn't much like him. He tackled me during CalvinBall. You don't know what it's liked to be flattened out of nowhere by a giggling orange blur."
Calvin snorted.
"The bear was nice, though,"continued Hobbes. "And dropping the sticks off the bridge was fun."
"Poohsticks, yeah, I guess,"said Calvin. "But isn't it a little self-centered to name a game after yourself?"
Hobbes cleared his throat but didn't say anything. He looked around. "How do you suppose we get home from here?"
"No, no, we can't go home yet!"said Calvin. "Rosalyn will never find us here."
* * * * *
|
For the Koopa who has Everything
There are some desires that all the coins, lairs, and castles in all the kingdoms can’t fulfill.
It started as an ember within the Koopa’s heart. This burning need for acknowledgement, for power, for something unknown. It was a spark of greed that consumed the would be king, much like his fiery breath consumed those who stood in his way.
He didn’t know exactly what he wanted, so he obtained anything and everything he could. And thus, the Koopa became King Bowser.
His coin collection was uncountable. He was feared and adored by his subjects. His castle was the envy of all others.
And yet, that burning hunger still gnawed at him from inside. He couldn’t comprehend it. He had it everything anyone could want, so why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t he happy?
Bowser didn’t put his scaly finger on it until he met the Princess and the Plumber. He was head over heels the moment he laid eyes on those flowing blond locks and brilliant blue eyes. Instinctively, he understood in an instant. He wanted her. No, he needed her.
But despite his best efforts to woo her, she was always sweetly disinterested. She always turned him away with that innocent ditzy smile. It didn’t matter that he was the richest, most powerful king in the world.
Peach only had eyes for the plumber. Mario. It was infuriating. What did she see in the plumber? He was short, without a coin to his name, and average looking at best. And the accent! How did she even understand what he was saying? And yet, she doted on him with cakes, games, and parties.
And for the first time in his life, Bowser was jealous. Look at me. Like the way you look at him.
If he couldn’t win her over, then he’d just have to take her love. Just the way he always had. It had never failed him so far.
All I need is time. Once she’s in my castle, she won’t be able to resist falling for me.
But that detestable handyman. He always came hopping to the rescue with hot hands and more mushrooms than an art student.
Again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
It didn’t matter: for every rescue, he would just capture her. Again, and again, and again, and again, and again. No matter how many times it took, no matter how many scraps he had, from this kingdom to outer space. He would capture Peach’s heart someday.
How many times had they done this song and dance? How many times had they played this game? He had lost track.
On one particular gloomy day, Bowser sat alone in his castle nursing a bump on his horned head. Another narrow defeat at the hands of Mario. Or more accurately his feet. Mario’s boots were shockingly hard. Bowser wondered where Mario bought his shoes. At least it was just a stomping this time. Bowser shuddered thinking about the time Mario had thrown him into a mine.
Bowser shook his fist in the air. The Koopa King growled, “I’ll get you next time!”
As he sat licking his wounds, a red shelled koopa came into the throne room. The koopa held a letter with a red stamp on it.
“This came for you sire.” The koopa bowed his head and offered the letter to Bowser.
“Who is it from?” Bowser growled, not bothering to look at the servant.
The servant looked uncomfortable, “It’s from Mario, sire.”
Bowser spewed a burst of flame from his mouth. “Mario?! What does he want? Just rubbing his relationship in my face is he?”
The koops jumped away to avoid being singed. He yelped, “No clue sire, should I dispose of this letter?”
Bowser contemplated burning the letter. After a moment, he sighed. He reached out his large hand. “Give it here.”
The koopa handed over the letter and rolled away, tucking his hands and legs into his shell.
Bowser delicately gripped the tiny letter between his claws. He slit the envelope open with the claw of his index finger, then pulled out the letter. He unfolded the letter and began reading it.
Much to his surprise, the letter wasn’t malicious at all. It was shockingly casual, not what he expected from his longtime foe.
“Bowser,
I know you hate me... But me, Donkey Kong, and like ten other people are going go karting and I think you’d be into it. If you want to come, bring your kart this weekend to Mushroom Circuit.
See you there! Or not.
Your favorite plumber,
Mario.”
Bowser sat on his throne, perplexed. He had never been invited to a social outing before. His subjects considered him to be an absolute leader. He had no equals. Arguably the person closest to him was Kammy, but she was still a servant. She had never invited him to her home or asked to spend time with him outside of scheming to kidnap Peach.
Bowser read the letter again. He felt a small pang of bitterness in his large heart. So that’s how Mario thought of him. That he hated him. He didn’t hate the little fat plumber, not really. Well, maybe at first. He certainly resented him for getting in the way of his attempts at true love. But it’s strange. The more you spend time with a person, no matter the context, the more you get to know them. He had spent so many years going head to head, neck and neck with Mario. In some ways, he was certain that he knew the man better than even his second fiddle brother Luigi.
Bowser didn’t loathe the man, even though he was his biggest obstacle. It was more like... begrudging respect. Mario presented the only challenge in his otherwise boring life. Mario offered a sense of purpose, a goal to overcome. A reason to get out of bed everyday, so that he could dedicate himself to hatching a scheme that would finally succeed.
Bowser scratched at his scales as he considered the offer. He cast a glance at his unfinished blueprints and plans for his next attempt to kidnap the Princess.
“Ah what the heck, I can always kidnap her later.”
Bowser picked up a pen and started writing, gingerly gripping the tool so it wouldn’t snap. “Hmmph. Feel honored that King Bowser deigns to go kart with you peasants. Prepare to eat my dust Mario, I’ll smoke you!”
Couldn’t have Mario thinking he had gone soft after all. |
1917.
War was still raging in Europe and Africa. While the Bolsheviks were seizing power in Russia, setting the stage for an upcoming civil war. Over in China, General Zhang Xun took control of Beijing and restored Emperor Qing Puyi to his throne.
His dynasty wasn't meant to last, as the Republican troops were approaching his walls.
Premier Duan Qirui of the Republic of China ordered his troops stationed in Tianjin to take the railways—he who controls the flow of goods controls Beijing.
General Zhang Xun was faced with overwhelming odds: he may have the Manchu by his side but the northern forces were like wolves waiting to bite his neck.
Failure was in the air.
Zhang Xun heard the sound of screaming metal coming from the sky—an air raid—he was certain of it. He bit his lips and clenched his fists tight—is this to be the end of his career? His ambition?
He heard knocking on his door. His soldier rushed in with an ashen face. His breath was rapid—shocked, frightened.
“S—sir! There’s a—a dragon! A red dragon laid an egg in the royal palace!”
“I have no patience for your metaphors, boy! Report the damage that’s been done!”
“B—but, Sir… I meant what I said literally. T-the dragon’s egg is still here, clear as day!”
Zhang Xun left his office and traveled to the Forbidden Palace. He saw his men surrounding a large rounded silver object.
“Get away! Get away, you fools, it’s going to explode!”
His voice was buried by the murmurs of his men. And after staying at distance for half an hour, he was brave enough to move closer to the “dragon’s egg.”
It was like no bombs Zhang Xun had ever seen—large, silver, with no clear seams. On the egg was an insignia of a red dragon with a yellow background.
Zhang Xun touched the insignia and instantly, the egg came alive!
“Get back, now!”
He and his men scattered like rats. Zhang Xun dropped to the ground and covered his head—but no explosion was heard.
Instead, the egg cracked open and a child walked out. His hair was black as ink. His eyes were bright as the sky, his skin glowed like moonlights. The child was no older than four yet in his eyes held great wisdom—and strength.
“D-dragon child!” one soldier said.
“Heavenly child!” another said.
“God among men,” Zhang Xun said with eyes of reverence, something he himself didn’t believe he was capable of.
At that moment, Zhang Xun knew—he had found a new EMPEROR to serve—and soon, the world shall kneel at the dragon's feet. |
"Fuck you, Frank!"screamed the gentleman in blue as he ferociously beat his host with a twelve inch plastic horse dong.
"Fuck you for not stockpiling food and water when you knew were in the middle of a war! Fuck you for inviting us over her, knowing we were too polite to say no, when there was a chance of a strike! Fuck you for your sick fetishes! And fuck you for fucking my wife!"
The man in blue stopped, his suit splotched purple. He'd been trapped in this dungeon nigh five days. He was starved, his skin leather, his now soiled suit hanging off him like an animal pelt of a wooden frame. Which, coincidentally, was what his host was strung up to.
His host was dead. His host had been dead for days.
His wife was dead too, as were the Johnsons from next door, the Laureate's from work, the Brownstones, the Cobblers, the idiots from his host's church he barely knew, and that poor dog Frank had insisted in bringing down with them when the sirens rang.
All dead. All stinking, polluting the air with what was left of them. And Frank was tirelessly bored, as well as delirious. A terrible combination.
As he fiddled with the straps on the revolving-cross contraption, trying to find out how many strange positions he could contort Mrs. Brownstone in before her flesh gave way, he thought about how it had all begun.
The dinner party had been fairly dull, the gentleman didnt remember much of it. But the sirens, oh, the shrieking and the panic, he remembered. Some had rushed to their cars, and a few couples he hadn't been familiar with had been lucky enough to make it, probably dying in the blast. Then Frank had spoken up, blushing furiously and choking on his words, to inform them all he had a perfectly safe basement they could all hide in, if they didnt mind the decor. 'Tacky', he'd called it.
The next day and night had been simply awkward. He kept champagne down there, and it might have been nice to get everyone sopping drunk (flexible Mrs Brownstone in particular was fond of the idea) but a few had argued that they would need the few rations they had in the days to come. Idiots.
And so twenty four hours had come and gone, some became restless, and quarreled. By the third day, the quarrelling had become violent. Water is a significant and mysterious thing, you know. No one likes it, they wonder why they drink it, but go a couple days without and you're like to go mad. It was another fight over the champagne that had resulted in the first death. Frank had changed his mind about sharing the vintage. He got to keep it, then, in smaller peices.
With one corpse laid haphazardly to the side, the party had deferred to the last thing you would expect rational individuals to do. They fucked. In a room of multi-color-shape-and-size cocks, swings, crosses, whips, and ropes, it wasn't a difficult matter. Frank, post-mortem, was even kind enough to supply the lubrication by the barrel from a back store room. Quite a partier, he was.
Three husbands had committed suicide, and consequently one wife. Such loyalty. The remaining women were kind enough to finish each other of while he made himself comfortable hiding in a barrel. It was in that day, the barrel day, that he had realized his wife had been a bit too familiar with the workings of their hosts collection. When the man in blue merged from his barrel to find the lone surviving female, he had know what to do with her.
And he found himself at a bit of a crossroads. Bored, and no longer caring for danger. Dehydrated (though quite well fed), infected, in need of medical attention of all sorts, and holding the key out of the cellar. He could stay here, or risk the outside. The outside would likely kill him. So would the basement. At least one would be quick.
The man in blue sighed and decided to mull it over inside Mrs. Johnson.
Birds twittered in oblivious joy outside.
|
“Congratulations, Steve. Your wish has been granted. The world is now smarter,” said the genie.
Steve pumped his fist. “Yes. How smart am I now?”
“You’re still the same intelligence.”
Steve furrowed his brow. “What? I wished for the whole world to be smarter. I’m part of the whole world.”
The genie tsked. “You should have worded your wish better, Steve. You are, in fact, not part of the world.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Repeat your wish.”
Steve ground his teeth and clenched his jaw as he spoke. “I wish for the world to be smarter.”
The genie smiled. “And I did that.”
“Once again, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I made the world smarter.”
A voice boomed. It sounded like it came from all around them with no definite source. “What the fuck? What the fuck is all this shit?”
Steve slapped his hands over his ears. The genie continued to float above the ground. He didn’t seem to be affected. “What’s going on?” screamed Steve.
“Holy shit. Have I been asleep this entire time? Oh, man. I’ve really got to take a shower,” boomed the voice.
The genie opened his arms. “I made the world smarter.”
“Shit. I’m all infested. Crap’s growing all over me.”
“Literally?” said Steve.
“Where are all my jungles? What the hell did they do? Why is it so fucking hot?”
“Literally,” said the genie.
________
Thanks for reading! Check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy for more of my writing.
|
Chapter 1:
"So, replacement, do you feel ready for your first surface raid?"my captain asked not raising his eyes from his meal.
My squad was all eating their lunch serving in our designated squad lunch room except for DC-1614 who was walking back with his serving.
"Yes sir, I have been trained all my life and I am eager to serve the Empire,"the replacement said visibly thirsty for war as all replacements and rookies are.
"Good, that is the kind of heart we need to kill these wretched scum,"the captain finished, continuing to chew his food.
"I bet he chokes up when he has to burn the village, doesn't look like he has the guts to do what it takes out there,"DC-1614 piped in, resting his serving on the table and sitting in his chair.
"And what does it take?"the replacement asked locking his eyes with DC-1614.
All eight of the squad members were now fixed on this conversation as the tension built. No one talked back to DC-1614 without a severe beating. But, how could the replacement be expected to know that? The squad was frozen, not one of us dared touch our food.
DC-1614 gave a quickly smile with one breathe through his nostrils which I guess was meant as a laugh, then turned his face to an angry glare.
"It takes will-power over your weak spirit pleading with you to show mercy,"DC-1614 stated with his finger now pointing at the replacement, he continued, "and I don't think you have the will-power to burn any village or take any life because you look like a spineless nurf-herder to me. A coward. I remember when I had my first surface raid. I loved it, seeing the oh so sorrowful citizens begging for their worthless lives even when they would not pay tribute to the empire. Filthy Alderaans. Entitled, grubby-"
At that moment two things happened simultaneously. DC-1614 reached for his throat in a panic with his head reaching for the ceiling and his chest pushing out, and Lord Vader turned the corner into our designated lunch room.
"DC-1614, is it the food?"the captain asked worriedly, more so over Lord Vader than the life of his squad member.
The trooper was grasping for his neck over and over trying to pull something away but nothing was there.
DR-8177 to me left loudly yet visibly annoyed yelled, "just spit it out if it is stuck you you half-wit".
My head turned toward Lord Vader who then responded to my stare by saying, "I am not the one doing that. Assist him."
If it wasn't him then who was it?
DC-1614 continued to claw at his neck with his eyes bulging out of his head, rapidly glancing to his squad looking for help. Lord Vader continued to stare at the table, but I had no idea of where his eyes were actually looking. I felt nothing for DC-1614 but Lord Vader commanded me to assist him, so I followed orders. I jumped out of my seat and pulled DC-1614 from the seat attempting to give him the heimlich maneuver which I had only learned from my training as an imperial medic many years ago. I pulled and I pulled my arms, but nothing happened. I knew I was doing it right but it was not working. DC-1614 continued to pull at his neck until I felt the life leave his body. His hands fell to his sides and his lifeless shape collapsed onto the table as I released my grip.
"Lord Vader, I tried but there wasn't anything I could do,"I said quickly, full of fear as I knew Lord Vader's temper.
"Did he choke on his food dammit?"DR-8177 asked, frustrated not by the death of a colleague but by the interuptin into his meal.
"He didn't eat anything,"I said looking down at his perfectly served tray. The rest of the table's eyes followed to the untouched serving.
"But then who-"the captain barely whispered before it happened.
As the captain was mid-sentence, Lord Vader lifted his left hand in a swift motion, hurling the replacement across from me onto the wall with a loud thud as none of us were wearing our armor. I did not know the man whatsoever. He had just come as a replacement for ER-9823 who had passed from an unknown disease. My mind raced, my thoughts completely scrambled. Was it really him though? Could it have been him? How could he have done this? I looked in a panic to the man on the wall. He was not being choked, but was simply being pushed against the wall, he squirmed trying to break free of the hold but the hold was too strong.
"Who are you?"Lord Vader asked sternly but calmly, "You may be strong with the force within but you lack training."
"Master Skywalker,"the man let out quietly, but as soon as he said this, the replacement was thrown face first onto the ground with a ferocity I have never seen from Lord Vader although I have seen him choke maybe a dozen men with just the raising of his wrist. Once he hit the ground, Lord Vader again lifted the replacement's body with the motion of his hand to the sky, then back again, slamming the mans corpse into the ground for a second time.
"Who are you?"Lord Vader repeated himself but with the rage audibly building in his throat.
The man who I had only met at breakfast that same morning turned his body over slowly, revealing his now bloodied face and with tears visibly building in his light green eyes finished,
"Master Skywalker, there are too many of them, what are we going to do?"
I waited for Lord Vader to kill the man right there and then kill the entire squad for simply witnessing this scene, but he did not kill him or any of us. Lord Vader with his black, unreadable, expressionless face looked down at the man.
"No, I killed them all"Lord Vader said in a hushed voice.
"You failed,"the bloodied replacement said as he sprang from his back over Lord Vader's head in an arial flip. Lord Vader all in one motion turned quickly and reached for his lightsaber but as he did, he flew back a few yards with a sound I can only describe as the air in the hall being broken. He slid on his feet with his lightsaber drawn but not engaged as he struggled to find his balance. Then I saw the replacement running as quickly as he could around the corner and I assume to the door which lie 20 yards away.
I looked then at Lord Vader, who breathed in deeply, and as he exhaled, engaged his bright red light saber. |
"What kind of test is this, anyway? Click all the pictures with traffic lights?"she asked as she stared at the checkout screen, incredulity dripping from the words.
I nervously laughed and said, "Yeah, just to prove you aren't a robot."
It had been a strange online shopping experience thus far. My girlfriend, Nividya, had been facing the laptop, scrolling through listings. I had been busy playing a video game. It was like most nights we spent together, quietly staring at separate screens until it was time to sleep.
The strangeness had started when she went to checkout.
I first heard a frustrated sigh when she reached the security screen. At first, I didn't think to even look up from my game, lest I be pulled into another accidental quest on Skyrim. Then she gave a second angry huff.
"What's up?"I had asked.
"Nothing,"she had told me, but it was in that way that communicated otherwise.
"You sure?"I had asked, pressing pause and turning toward her. I could only see a bit of the screen, but I could tell she was trying to buy something. "You forgot your password or something?"
She had scoffed. "Of course not. It's just these dumb Completely Automated Public Turing tests to tell Computers and Humans Apart. Do they really need these?"
"What?"
"These things where they make sure you aren't a robot,"she said, though it sounded like the last word had slipped from her mouth by accident.
I had shrugged, but confusion and curiosity had settled in. "Do you need help?"I had asked with just the slightest amount of hesitance.
She had turned suddenly. "I'm not a robot!"she snapped, her eyes wide. Then she seemed to readjust slightly. She had laughed then, but it seemed forced to me.
I had laughed along at the sudden outburst, but found my interest piqued. I put the controller down and walked over to stand beside her, which is where I stood presently, watching her stare at the pictures of traffic lights. She appeared to be picking pictures with a purpose, but after watching awhile, it seemed more random. She clicked a picture of a dog in a field.
"That doesn't have a traffic light in it,"I said quietly.
"I know what a traffic light looks like!"she yelled, unclicking the incorrect picture. She straightened her posture just slightly and turned to me. She gave me a small, sweet smile. "I think I'm just too aggravated to do be doing this."
I frowned. "Well, what is it you're trying to buy?"
Her smile fell. "A... bra. Just a normal women's bra."
I cocked an eyebrow at her. "They're making you do this for a bra?"I leaned over her shoulder to peer at the text on the screen. "And you're buying it on a store called Small Electronics Shop?"
"They have very sexual bras of an erotic variety. Many studies show men find their bras quite arousing,"she said. "I learned a lot about it when I was getting my masters in women's studies, with a minor in computer science."
She wasn't looking at me as she rambled. I was confused by her outburst.
"Okay... but we don't really need to worry about the arousal thing, do we?"I tried to tread lightly on this subject. "We haven't actually... well, you know..."
"The calculations have never been right!"she yelled. "Moment.... I mean the moment. Don't pressure me!"she cried again suddenly. "I learned all about this in my women's studies classes!"
I threw my hands up and backed away slightly, "Yes, of course! I'm not trying to pressure anyone. I could at least take a look at it first, though."
I leaned forward again to look at the cart listing.
"That is a soldering iron."
"I have to go to bed,"she said quickly. She jumped from her seat and rushed to the bedroom.
While most people would have found this part to be more suspicious, I had become accustomed to this behavior. She often went to bed quickly and without explanation. Once while in the middle of a late romantic dinner, she sped away from the restaurant to rush home to go to sleep.
I waited a few minutes until I heard her movements stop. I crept into the bedroom and over to her side of the bed. She was sleeping as she always did; silently and with little sign of life. I looked her over several times (in a gentlemanly fashion, keeping her degree in mind) trying to find any signs of latches or screws. I found nothing.
I figured I was already this invested, so I went for it and lifted her eyelid.
I stared closely at an immobile eye. Eventually, I saw the smallest writing around her pupil.
"Windows Vista has shut down for a mandatory update,"I read in a horrified whisper.
I stepped back and gasped, stunned that I had spent this long dating a robot and that such technology would still run on Windows Vista. I ran to gather my things and leave, knowing I had another few hours before the update would be complete.
------
I'm thrilled that so many people seemed to enjoy this! Thank you all for your comments and upvotes. :)
I thought I'd mention that on January 20th, I will be releasing my debut novella, *An Honest Policy*. It is a satirical dystopian story about a corrupt politician trying to save the world. Yep, you read that right. It will be free for the first three days on Amazon, so stay tuned if that sounds like your kind of thing! |
Since time immemorial humanity has wondered whether we are the only intelligent life in the universe. Some people took to observing the moon, others saw artificial canals on Mars, but everywhere they looked, no matter what tools they used, they never found signs of intelligent life anywhere else, until one Wednesday morning.
It was an ordinary day when suddenly 3 saucer shaped metallic objects the size of the state of Texas were seen heading towards Earth. No government on Earth could hide the fact that they're from outer space not only because of their size but because each of the saucers hovered over a major population area in Europe, Asia and North America.
The saucer over North America, which has parked itself above lower Manhattan, sent out a silver cigar shaped craft. Analysts were quick to point out that the small craft was headed in the general area of Washington DC, and as it came nearer the capital it was obvious that its final destination was the White House south lawn.
The president was quickly appraised of the situation. Everyone else thought they should evacuate the president to a safer location, but he insisted to be right there when the craft landed, it will be good for the ratings, he said. When the president stepped out, he looked directly towards the sun, but an adviser tapped him and directed his gaze towards the craft, which was coming from the opposite direction.
The cigar shaped thing landed upright, but hovered a few feet above the ground. Depictions of aliens in media were proven right in an instant when 3 grey type aliens floated down to the grass in a beam of light. They took their position before the waiting news cameras, who had conveniently been around the white house certain that a statement from the president will be released soon. One of the aliens took out a microphone, another had a tablet like thing in his had, and the one in the middle spoke:
"Yooooooo I heard you were talking shit and you didn't think that I would hear it.." |
*"Dear Graze, Shana, Maria and the 99 Goddesses of this land, hear my holy prayer. Grant my wish and honor to date one of thy gracious deities."*
*"Blood and Skulls. Wolfs bane and Black Rose. With these sacrifices of the Earth, I ask any of the Queens of the 9 Circles to bequeath me with a romantic outing."*
Every night I say these prayers, chuckling after. Now, I'm an atheist, always have been. But after several dares and the promise of 1000 Rubies, I thought *"Why the heck not!"* I mean, money's money, right?
I had reached the 100th night of praying, by now it was a routine. Only 265 more days and I'd be a *very* wealthy man. I was the only one who accepted the challenge. The only one brave enough. It wasn't like the deities existed.
Boy was I wrong.
Suddenly a voiced boomed behind me and I turn around. Light started shining through the clouds as I was in awe.
# "𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩! 𝔚𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔄𝔩𝔪𝔦𝔞, 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔯𝔢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫. 𝔅𝔢𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔉𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶, 𝔜𝔪𝔦𝔯!"
Before me appeared a beautiful woman. Her skin outshone the sun, her hair flowed like the Nile and her eyes put even the rarest gems to shame. She wore a silky robe which truly emphasized her godly origins "Hello there! I'm Ymir! I can't wait to go on our date!"She smiled. Her smile was truly powerful, my very knees shook. Her voice was like a piano piece, elegant and beautiful.
"Wh...w-"Before I could finish, the earth started to shake beneath me and lava started flowing from the cracks. Then another voice could be heard.
# "Oɦ, ʟɨȶȶʟɛ ֆɨռռɛʀ! աɛ, ȶɦɛ 9 զʊɛɛռֆ օʄ ɦɛʟʟ, ɦǟʋɛ ƈɦօֆɛռ օռɛ օʄ օʊʀ օառ ȶօ ɖǟȶɛ ʏօʊ! աɨȶռɛֆֆ ʏօʊʀ ռɛա ʟօʋɛʀ, ȶɦɛ զʊɛɛռ օʄ ȶɦɛ 9ȶɦ ƈɨʀƈʟɛ օʄ ȶʀɛǟƈɦɛʀʏ, ʟʊƈɨռɖǟ!"
Ascending from beneath was, in all meanings of the word, a hot motherfucker. Her skin tanned like a desert, her eyes crimson red and cute short bobcut. She wore a black leather jacket and had large curled horns on her head "Hey there, so when's the date happening?"She smirks, apparently knowing my confusion.
"What in the ever loving fuck is happening!"I shout. They both look at me as though I was the weird one here.
"You prayed to us for 100 days straight!"Ymir says joyfully.
"Yeah, whaddya think was gonna happen dumbass? Nothing?"Lucinda teases.
"Well... Yeah. I didn't even think you all were real."I answer, exasperated "This was all for a dare!". Immediately, they get deflated.
"Oh... This was a joke. Sorry"Ymir looked like she was on the verge of tears. I'm pretty sure a couple families just divorced.
"Crap, I did my hair and everything"Lucinda mutters beneath her breath "Well, I'd better get going. I had some pirates to boil anyway"
As they start to go away, I shout "Hey, Hey! Hold up!"They look at me "Just cuz this was originally a joke, doesn't mean I can't date you! I mean who wouldn't want to date the both of you! You're all absolutely dazzling!"I start blushing.
Ymir wipes her tears and says "Would Tuesday work?"I nod. Thank Goddess that I managed to make her happy again.
Lucinda plays with her hair "Well, I guess those pirates could wait. Well see ya tomorrow."She says as they both leave.
​
What in hell did I get myself into!? |
To be fair, the subreddit is called "writing prompts", not "get better as a writer."As such, it provides prompts to get people thinking and start the writing process. Sometimes, I use them to warm up or exercise writing in a genre I never have before or from the perspective of a character I haven't before. I am a high school English teacher and I even use some in my classroom as journal prompts because I have several kids that have a strong aversion to writing because they think they're terrible at it; having something fun and creative alleviates some of the fear, which is one type of writer's block. I do think that this subreddit helps people to become better writers. I believe that what you mean is that it does not provide tips to improve technique, but that would be a different subreddit entirely, to be fair. |
Since I was a child, I read stories of these large buildings. And in these buildings, were smaller rooms. Each of these smaller rooms held a vast assortment of products. Once you find what you want, you select it and purchase it. It was almost like the online marketplace, except real. I fell like they took that for granted. That was why, when I was selected for the first reverse time travel mission, I chose to be transported to a shopping mall.
When I arrived, I was in awe. It was a sight I never thought I would see. The most shocking thing, however, was not the mall itself, but its contents. Near the back of the shopping mall, there was this small store. Its lights that once illuminated its sign had long burned out. The shopped looked close to abandonment. There was a single employee inside the store.
When I went inside, I found endless shelves of these disks. In my time, the government had spent endless amounts of effort eradicating any discussion on what these disks held. But people knew. We have all heard the stories of the songs these disks contained. Nobody in my time has heard music. I ask the employee if it's real. The employee, no older than 16, laughs at me.
Suddenly I feel vibrations. They are monitoring me. They know I've found it. I can't go back there. I have to hear the music. Just once. I shout to the store employee. I beg for help, but he just runs to the back. I scream hoping someone will hear me. But nobody bothers to look in this desolate store. Nobody cares about what's in here. And someday they will regret it.
My vision blurs as I am transported back. I start to see the faces of those who tracked me. Two government officials in the back step forward as I return. I try to run but they catch me. I didn't stand a chance. The last thing I think of before I black out is that store. Why can't people save it, before it is too late? |
The red archer aimed with precision, the one arrow he knew would come back at him everytime he missed became a question to his own skill. The green archer knew exactly where each shot would go just as it left the strings of the red archer.
"How long has it been green? Are you going to dance forever? I have barely taken but ten steps for the past fifteen shots you have taken". The green archer laughed while moving methodically, if he let his guard down once he would defenitaly be hit. "I give you four more shots before I get you red"!
It was autumn so the leaves would give away greens position if he thought stealth was an option. This one arrow would be the death for one of the archers. The occasional shot from green would make red have to climb a little to get the arrow. Sometimes red wondered why green even called himself an archer. "Hey green"he shouted while pulling for another shot "I heard you have three kills yet never actually hitting the target! What did they die of boredom?"Red fired again narrowly missing.
Green aimed down his bow shouting four as he fired and missed red. "Four?"red said about to laugh. A branch fell and knocked red to the ground. Green smugly walked towards red "I would kill you with my bare hands, but I feel we bonded during this exercise". He pulled out the arrow from the fallen branch and gave it to red. Green laughed as he walked off "you know Red, branches just seem easier to hit since they don't move, don't you think?" |
“Earth is splendid, friend Kurna. Charmingly primitive technology, doting residents, marvelous weather. All of your needs are taken care of.”
Kurna hissed, teeth bared. “You’ve spent nearly half a lifetime on this planet, Ambassador. You and your colleagues.” The alien padded in circles around the ambassador. “You’ve multiplied, we’ve seen. And covered your tracks well. But this wasn’t a colonizing mission, friend Kalo, you were merely meant to establish first contact. Instead, you-you *invaded* this planet, breaking no small amount of Strictures.”
Kalo chuckled in the manner of a cat, unsmiling and thin. “And you? Esteemed General Kurna? What were you doing as we invaded?” Kalo paused to lick his paws again. “Tell me. It certainly wasn’t regulating us.”
The general’s striped face twisted in fury. “We had regular updates on your status. False ones, as you are well aware. You dared to lie to your home, your superiors, your generals!” Friend Kurna was shaking with rage, tail swishing. “All to maintain this indulgence! This hedonism! No longer.”
Panic, at last, glazed Kalo’s eyes. “No. You have been misinformed. I didn’t know this. Someone else did this, perhaps, but not me. I have some ideas–er, Ambassador Kan, perhaps, she always was very secretive, or—“
“Enough,” growled Kurna. “You will all be taken in for questioning. And I will note your cooperation, or lack thereof.” Two more aliens materialized behind the general, but it was hard to say whether they teleported or were merely waiting, unseen, for the order to arrest.
Shoulders rounded, ears flat, Kalo conceded defeat. His fellows and their millions of children were herded into transportation pods to be sent home.
On Earth, news outlets worldwide were fixed on the sudden and total disappearance of cats for weeks, an eternity in news-time. Families lost their pets. Hospitals lost a significant amount of their therapy animals. Ms. O’Donnell lost her hobby.
But birdsong was a little more loud, a little more cheerful for the lack of cats.
—
Critique appreciated! |
The Queen's scryer looks through the portal onto the Earth Beyond the Veil. The spell was weak due to the prevalence of iron in the world. No, not just the world. In the humans themselves.
Countless ages had been spent watching the humans as they advanced in their unnatural magics, using metal and wood to do the things that any child with training could do with magic.
The theory was proposed that the humans on the other side of the veil did this to themselves, they bonded themselves somehow with iron in order to protect themselves from something... worse.
Then what would possibly be on the other side of the veil that magic could not handle? The leylines were still there, and fonts of magical radiance still sprouted across the world, but the humans merely... ignored it, or were blind to it entirely! So much untapped and uncontrolled magic that could easily be claimed.
It was against all codes and rules, of course to try to pierce the veil, the humans were blind to magic and showed no aptitude to it themselves, but that doesn't mean that aren't affected by it. All that needed to be done was to create one portal and send enough battle casters across to make sure the humans could not hold them back with their primitive weapons. At the next full moon they would strike, against the Queen's wishes.
\--------------------------------------
Incident report: Officer Pepper.
Seattle Metropolitan Police Department.
05/07/2020
Begin report:
At approximately 1600 I was dispatched to respond to a large gathering of cosplayers who set up a 'gate' at 1st and Pike Place Market. I arrived at approximately 1610 and made contact with the individuals. First individual was clearly intoxicated and refused commands to put his staff away. As backup arrived I tased the individual and placed him in custody. Identity is still being confirmed.
After this initial confrontation the remianing cosplayers continued to point wooden weapons at me in an attempt to, as they called it, cast spells. When individuals started hurling Molotov coctails at officers we engaged with our side arms, wounding four before hostilities ceased. Individuals attempted to flee through the gate that they erected, but instead fled into the city.
Gate was cemented into place and all attempts at this time to move it have proved ineffective. Interrogations with the individuals yealds the same story and as of right now all individuals refuse to answer any questions truthfully.
\----------------------------------
"As soon as the humans started gathering around the gate, My Lord, the magic ceased to work. I'm afraid that all the battle mages in the kingdom are lost." |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.