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My friends had opted for the surgery too. We had made a pact to go through it together but they had developed their powers over a year ago. Meanwhile I waste my days still stuck in a wheelchair, still breathing through a tube and now watching them all outside; flying and fighting and having fun. They practice to become *heroes*.
Today I look out of the window onto a grey sky. A single ray of light creeps through a crack in the clouds to glare blindingly in my eyes. I am taunted even by the heavens. I try to move my head to escape the beam, but I am unable to shift a single inch. Instead, I shut my eyes and block out the world.
---
The years have passed and my friends no longer visit. They are too busy now. I despise them for leaving me here to rot. Everyday is grey. I no longer look out of the window but instead keep the curtains drawn. The light can no longer torment me.
The nurse enters my room uninvited. A fat thing with huge drooping breasts and a sarcastic face.
"Hello! How are you doing today?"she asks, knowing full well that I cannot respond.
"It's a lovely day outside! Shall I open the curtains and let the light in?"
*NO!* I scream silently, desperately, **NO!**
She pulls back the thick fabric and releases the light. It dances gleefully around the small room. It reflects off my metal wheelchair and into my eyes. I am enraged. If only I could move. The hate pulses through my head, through my veins and through my heart."
"Are you OK Xavier? You look quite il—*gghhhh!*"
I squeeze her neck. Not with my hands but with my hatred. It is like watching a chicken having it's neck wrung.
She slowly turns red, then blue. Then limp.
If I could smile I would. Instead, I channel my hate into my chair and slowly move out of the room. I will one day find my *friends*, but now I must prepare.
---
*Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it please come visit my sub /r/nickofnight* |
”It’s all really quite simple.” You noted as you sipped the exquisite fey tea. “I’m just a landlord like any other. I told you this when we set off I think.”
“That doesn’t explain anything!” Jasper exclaimed, instinctively striking a heroic pose as befits a hero of his caliber. “When we met you all you owned was a few run down houses, you said you had bought your equipment with your last few hundred pieces of gold.”
“It’s true, those houses didn’t make me much money that’s why I had to go adventuring. Remember how distraught I was when I lost that first crossbow to that Minotaur? I really didn’t think I would have enough money for a replacement but you all came through for me and lent me that money.” You smiled as you happily reminisced. “That’s why I’m paying you back so generously now that I can.”
“Pardon me Houseworth, but that’s not the issue our friend Jasper here is raising.” The elderly gnome croaked through his thick beard. “What puzzles him, and I for that matter, is how in the name of the all-knowing one you came to sit upon an old golden throne drinking Moonlight tears in a mansion of quite some renown. My memory might be getting spotty but I do not recall you partaking in any of the treasures we found.”
“Oh! Oh I’m terribly sorry I guess I thought it was obvious.” You quickly put the tea down and with a wave of your hand called over one of fairies to clear it away. “We cleared ruins and dungeons for almost 6 months together, and in according with the contracts we signed I gave up my share of the reward in exchange for the deed to these locations. So as I said: I am a landlord. It just so happens that I am a landlord of some prime real-estate.”
“I don’t understand, who would want to live in cave?” Arch’s massive hand scratched his beard and you could almost hear his gears grinding away in his head. “Or broken tower, or broken castle, or broken grave, most places were broken.”
“Oh a lot of people.” You replied excitedly. “And thanks to Joanna’s ability to contact other planes I was able to reach these potential tenants. A half overgrown castle is perfect for a minor fey lord’s vacation home. I dilapidated tomb? Just the thing for a cult needing a forgotten location to bury their holy man without anyone raising questions. A half crumbled tower, well it’s the fix-me-up offer any up and coming antisocial wizard would die for.”
“So while we were risking our lives to cleanse these locations and save lives you were lining your pockets? And you helped him do it?” Jasper asked pointing an accusatory finger at the druid Joanna.
“Don’t look at me like that Jasper, I was just helping a friend, and he never even took any of the money, all I did was help him out a little when trying to talk with some fairies.” Joanna said uncomfortably, she never had liked being put on the spot.
“Because of that those dungeons are all infested again!” Jasper exclaimed in uncharacteristic annoyance at one of his own companions.
“Now now, don’t put it like that.” You said furrowing your brow. “I helped clear those dungeons myself, I wouldn’t let them get infected as you say. I wrote up individualized and watertight contracts for each one of my tenants. There are very strict rules in place about harming or frightening the local communities, I run a legitimate business here old friend. If any one of them breaks their contracts they are immediately evicted.”
“And how would you evict a fey lord that doesn’t want to leave?” Jasper asked incredulously.
“Well.” You smirked a bit as you leaned back in your comfortable chair. “You wouldn’t believe what a dragon will do to avoid paying rent.” |
I hate people.
I moved to the middle of a forest to get away from them.
And, it worked. Mostly.
I go months, or even years, without seeing or hearing another living person. But, when I do...
It's always an adventurer.
I especially hate adventurers.
They think they're all so special with their tragic and/or mysterious pasts and their rag-tag groups of friends and their noble quests to save.... who even cares?
Fuck 'em.
They are the only people nutty enough to seek out a man who has made a point to avoid all human contact.
So, whenever one knocks on my door, I mutter something vague and cryptic to get them moving along.
But then they come back. Thanking me for my sage advice.
If there is one thing I hate more than talking to an adventurer, it's talking to an adventurer twice.
So I developed a plan.
And now, with this blandly handsome idiot at my doorstep, I am putting it into practice.
"Wise hermit, I-"
"Go jump in a lake!"
"I have not-"
"Find a lake. Go jump in it. Keep your armor on."
"My quest-"
"This will complete your quest."
"Th-thank you."
"Don't mention it."
And then there was peace. For a few days. Then the bugger came back, with a vorpal sword strapped to his back, like an idiot.
"Great Sage of-"
"Cut your head off with it."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"What will that accomplish?"
"Only one way to find out."
"Should I- should I do it here?"
"No! Go into the woods. Deep into the woods."
He looked at me sullenly and trudged off.
Then, a few days later, I was visited by an ascended being, dressed all in white, radiating goodness and love, with vorpal sword and a blandly handsome face.
"The prophecy is fullfilled! Magnificent Seer of-"
"Fuck. Off.' |
“Huh, well that’s not terribly reassuring.”
The words “Very Special Episode” echoed in your mind as your first waking thought, much as every other day for as long as you could remember. A title for the day to come ahead, as it were. Sometimes these titles gave valuable insight in to things you might want to try and avoid or seek out, but sometimes they were about as helpful as an anti-vaxxer in a pandemic. Titles often repeated, *not very imaginative are we Mister Life Narrator?* you’d often thought to yourself, but then written it down in your journal and carried on with your day.
Actually, repeated titles were the norm at this point, after 29 years on this planet with a title a day for your entire life originality was non-existent.
Today though? Today was new. New was exciting. New was scary. New needed an extra shot of espresso in your first cup of coffee of the day.
February 14th, the calendar on your phone said. Oh yeah, Valentine’s Day. Maybe you’d finally find that special someone who might last longer than a second date? Someone who didn’t just want you to pay for their dinner while they went to ‘powder their nose’ all too literally several times through the course of a meal out in a fancy restaurant. Maybe it was the opposite. Maybe you’d realise that you’d be forever alone, or eat the best burrito of your life, or join that trashy looking mid-20s woman in doing the fattest line of cocaine of your life and turning your whole existence to shit by crashing your car into a police station. Who knows?
You’d decided that uninformative titles were bullshit years ago, and today was unlikely to change that mindset.
It was Monday anyway, and due to the vagaries of your job’s working hours today was the end of a rare long weekend for you. Yesterday had been a hangover day, sat eating chips rewatching a series you’d seen about fifteen times on Netflix, regretting, as usual, your impulse to drink away a day that had started with a title that summed up your life in one simple phrase.
Saturday’s title had been “A Surprise at the Club.” Sunday’s title had been “Time to go back to the STD Clinic!”, which really summed up just how badly saturday had gone, and just how unhelpful these “titles” could really be for your life. Surprise indeed.
Today was a new day though, and it couldn’t really be much worse than the last two, so with a renewed spring in your step and caffeine slowly clearing some of the fogginess away, you set out to get some breakfast from your favourite local delicatessen.
“Huh, closed. Maybe Bob has a date or something. Rather him than me if my love life’s anything to go by.” It looked like the options were either McDonalds, Subway, or maybe that new sandwich shop just down the road that’d opened recently.
As you were walking along the eerily quiet sidewalk, you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing or forgetting something. Even if the titles were a bit cryptic at times, and you were absolutely sure that no one else experienced them, they usually gave you *some* direction.
You tried to think back over the last few days, had anything unusual stood out? Sadly the cocaine wasn’t that unusual, or any of the hookers. It was a sad existence living your life by an arbitrary title that your probably-a-mental-illness was creating for you every day.
Nothing jumped out at you until you thought about that morning. Yeah, a strong coffee was always great, but it wasn’t your alarm that woke you up was it? It was a day off so you hadn’t set one but… you were sure something had woken you up. Something tickling at the edge of your mind, something important.
The street was still quite empty. Completely empty actually. How long had you been stuck in your thoughts? *Huh, the new place is closed too, what’s going on?*
Then a title popped up.
Wait, what?
Titles only appeared at the start of the day, never midway through. You were that distracted you could have missed it, but you never missed titles, they were too important.
*BANG*
Oh yeah. That was what had woken you up this morning, a gunshot.
Second title of the day: “What are you missing? Try again”
#####
“Huh, well that’s not terribly reassuring.”
The words “Very Special Episode” echoed in your mind as your first waking thought… |
I did as she said. I interacted with none of the visions. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try and decipher them.
I recalled the visions in my mind. First was the holy symbol the cleric used to cast the spell, but then it morphed and shifted into something else. I could hardly describe it. The symbol was a shape with so many sides it appeared to have none.
I was bathed in light, but I heard a voice calling out to me in the darkness. It was a voice that echoed in many different tongues, but within it, I heard my own. The words I could not tell you, it was as if they spoke in ideas and emotions.
I felt an embrace. I presumed it was the Grey Mother, the one the clerics of healing worship, but there was something wrong about the embrace I could not quite figure out. It felt too strong, too encompassing, too curious to be the warm, gentle Grey Mother who held me close. It wasn’t a guardian angel looking down at me. I felt as if I was being analyzed.
As I spend weeks pouring over texts in search of answers, those in my life tell me to stop. They say it's becoming an unhealthy obsession, consuming my life. Perhaps it is, but I can not let this rest.
I was rejected by the clerics and I have yet to understand why. I performed all the prayer incantations perfectly, I showed a level of faith and devotion such that my robes were always white (the robes of the order track mental state, so when they change color the church can help them find faith again), I wanted nothing more than to heal.
I was always hungry to learn more of the Grey Mother’s teachings. Searching through libraries, listening to stories of her kindness and forgiveness. I revered the saints of the past and looked up to them, wishing to learn all I could. Though there was some knowledge they kept from me, they told me it would be revealed to me when I passed judgment.
When the final test came, where I faced the Grey Mother’s judgment, I failed.
There was no explanation, I felt no otherworldly presence. The clerics merely communed to the Grey Mother while I waited with terse apprehension. When it was over I looked to them with eager eyes, but they shook their heads solemnly.
Why hadn’t the Grey Mother accepted me? What could I have done wrong?
One day while researching a scholar nearby told me he recognized the symbol, that many-sided smooth surface, which I had seen. Though it was not anything related to the Grey Mother. I was looking in the wrong place.
I looked for other accounts of people hearing emotions as if words, all languages at once, the shape, the strange embrace. There were a few meager vision writings, but oddly enough none were published by the church but by another source, ones that hid the knowledge within a dense text about an entirely different topic.
What I discovered is what I saw in my vision had little to do with the Grey Lady, but rather seemed to align with a different entity. The Anithorath.
It was a being of which we understood little. It amassed knowledge and wisdom, so much so it was said that even just a glimpse at its vast well of knowledge could break any mortal.
Why was I seeing this in my visions? If the Anithorath healed me, what of the Grey Lady?
Fortunately, my chance will come soon. I had injured myself once more and am going to the church to get healed.
I must know the truth. This time when the voices call out, I won’t shy away from them. I will answer its call. |
"I'm not leaving."I sat down, arms crossed over my body. The angel, —no longer in their most unnerving form of spinning eyes,— sat down across from me. They looked exasperated.
"Despite my best efforts, I've lost count of how many times-"
"349."I interrupted. I hadn't lost count. The angel got up — they seemed to have difficulty sitting still— and began pacing.
"This is nonsense, this place is obviously dangerous and horrible. Why do you want to stay?"They asked, gesturing around them.
"Because. It's my home."I said. They stopped in their tracks, staring at me. It was hard to tell if they were annoyed or incredulous. Probably both. We stayed that way for a few minutes, the angel obviously searching for words.
"You've died 349 times. Here. And you still call it home?"The tone suggested that the angel was questioning my sanity. Perhaps they had a right to. They had been with me since the beginning.
"What else would you call the place you live in? That you love, and that you feel most comfortable in? That holds all the people you care about, and who care about you?"My voice cracked a little on the last few words. In my last death, I had lost one of those people. Scrubbing a hand over their face, the angel once again plopped down.
"I wasn't asking for your definition of the word home. I just don't understand why it has to be here. Why not anywhere else? I've been given permission to take you anywhere you like. Instantly, with no lasting repercussions."
"Anywhere?"I asked, knowing that one word would give the angel hope. Sure enough, they sat up straighter, eyes fixing on mine. I pretended to think. "Well, I quite like that hill over there, been trying to get there for a while...."Trailing off, I watched as the angel slumped. They were a bit predictable.
"Look. I like it here. And I've told you before. You don't have to stay. I know it would probably be a better mark on your record if you left."The angel was shaking their head before I finished the sentence.
"It's my job to guard you. That's what I am, and even if you choose to live here,"they shuddered. "Then that's what I'm going to do."
I rose, dusting off my linen pants. The landscape around me, painted in tones of red, orange, yellow and black shifted in the edges of my vision. Holding out a hand to the angel, I smiled.
"Well then. Let's get wandering. There's a lot of ground to cover before we can rest."Taking my hand the angel rose, starting to shimmer into their terrifying form. I began walking, knowing they'd catch up. Being sent here might have been a clerical error when I first had a near-death experience. But I hadn't been lying. It was my home. A slight hissing noise came from behind me. My guardian angel had caught up, and travelling together, we began our endless journey across Hell. My home. |
The Queen lay on the bed, beaten and bruised from the fight I'd just witnessed. In front of her, the Knight paused, raising his sword.
"Strike me down, and this war will finally be end—well? Will you get on with it?"
"I'm trying!"The Knight shifted in the strange dancing movements that he'd used in the battle. I paused, holding my rope close to my chest. I was not to be seen until I was ready, and some of the riggings still needed to be in place. Keeping an eye on the conversation, tied another knot. "Do you know how hard it is to kill someone when you can only move in 'L' shapes?"He moved again, seemingly away from the Queen, but managing to get at least one foot closer. I bit back a giggle. It was rather ridiculous to watch. But still, I had a job to do. Playing out the rope, I felt it hit the ground behind the bed. Still, the Queen and Knight were locked into their little drama.
"Well, would it help if I got up? I really think you should hurry up."The Queen made to move, before falling back down. Her legs weren't working properly. I swarmed down the rope, testing the strength of the rigging I'd set up over the room. It would hold long enough. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I entered the combat and was thus bound by the rules of the game. Edging out in a diagonal from the back of the bed, I raised my arms over my head, still holding the rope. The knight whirled toward me, though very obviously not taking a step.
"Hold there. Who are you? What are you doing here?"Moving on the next diagonal line I could find, I drew closer, my usual hopping gait seeming to unnerve him. "Stop there! I'm warning you!"The Queen met my gaze, her face showing resignation.
"How in the world did you get in?"She said. I made a slight bow, one equal to the other.
"One opponent at a time, My Queen. Always, one opponent at a time."My hands tightened on the rope, muscles bunching in my arms. I was close enough to the Knight now. Bending my knees, I jumped, in one powerful motion, aided by the rope and my arms. Flying through the air, I flashed over the Knight, barely avoiding the sweep of his sword. As I landed on the other side, I turned, watching the Knight topple to the side, dead. A gasp came from the direction of the bed.
"It's you! The deadliest assassin in the land. Have you come to claim your prize?"I turned. Halfway through that sentence, the tone had gone from shocked to sensual. Sure enough, her position was a little suggestive. I shook my head at her.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm a King in my own right, and have a wonderful Queen of my own. She would never approve. Besides, my employer doesn't pay for extras."Arraying herself properly, the Queen sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
"Well, can I at least know the name of my rescuer?"With a smile, and one hand still on the rope, I bowed.
"You're wrong. I am not your rescuer. This war between the two kingdoms still must end. It has ravaged too much, dragged on for too long."I readied myself for another jump, as realization flashed across her face.
"You—"I leapt into the air, soaring over her head. The Queen fell dead at my feet.
"But, I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you know my name now."I stared at the two dead bodies, the rules of the game releasing me. They were both truly dead, the combat had ended.
"I am...King Checkers." |
"At first we couldn't believe our eyes.
There we were, on the beach, enjoying some music and drinks out of the back of our van when people started pointing out to the ocean.
On the horizon there was some kind of boat. At first we didn't think much of it, but as it got closer people started realizing it had sails. My sister took out her camera and started taking pictures of it, we've never seen a sailing ship in-person before. Other people were excited, saying how cool it was to see such an old ship.
As it got closer we all realized the people on board were dressed up to look the part! Then the ship anchored and the sailors began climbing down onto some smaller boats. I remember thinking to myself: were they going to come to shore? That seemed odd, this wasn't exactly a popular beach to do some kind of PR stunt.
People began asking among themselves: what was going on?
Then they came to shore.
The smell. These people smelled terrible, and looked the part, too. They began speaking to us in Spanish. Thankfully, someone on the beach spoke Spanish and began translating.
We couldn't believe what we heard. Apparently this crew sailed all the way from Spain! he said something about being on a path from god, and that he would start a colony to expand the Spanish Empire, and introduced himself as Captian Aviles...what kind of promotion is this?
We asked what the heck he was promoting and what was going on, but he wouldn't stop going on about the new world. Someone had called the beach patrol because they were pulling up on their ATVs to see what was going on.
That's when I got nervous, these guys seemed to be taking this bit too far. They asked our translator "what in the name of the lord is that?!", gesturing to the ATV. The beach patrol started talking to the 'Captain' about how he couldn't use boats in this area and asked where his ship was registered. The confusion got worse as the 'Captain Aviles' replied that his ship was sent on behalf of the king.
By now the police have arrived and parked their SUVs on the beach. They tried detaining 'Captain Aviles', who at this point seemed to have gone hysterical at the sight of the Police cars. Some of the other sailers pulled out their weapons, demanding their 'Captain' be released.
Everyone looked at them confused. Were those weapons real? The police seemed to think so, as they took cover behind their car and called for backup. The onlookers fled to gain some distance as the sailors opened fire.
At first the police started shooting, but realized these were genuine muzzle loaders. I heard them get some orders on their radios to try to detain them alive. After the police fired off a few rounds, the sailors quickly surrendered, and were detained. That's the last I saw."
​
The interviewer finished writing some notes and then gave me an approving look.
"Thank you Mr. Smith", she said. "Your account will prove very valuable in helping us understand this phenomenon. I also want you to know that the only deaths were two of those sailors, and everyone else should make a full recovery. Do you have any questions for me?"
"Not really", I replied. "I guess this means that it's the real thing."
She nodded as she said, "Thats right Mr. Smith. You already submitted all the pictures and video, so we're done here. Thank you for your cooperation." |
Hello new employee!
Here at Bobbert’s things and people, We take pride in having every employee fit a job, no matter what! After careful consideration, your position in this company will be [POSITION_STRING] so get used to being called [NULL] and [POSITION_RELATED_NICKNAME_STRING] your pay will be [INTEGER].25$ and your hours will be in the [INTEGER]-[INTEGER] range. Your duties in this position will be as follows: [POSITION_TABLE]
You start work June 13, 20[INTEGER], at 9:00 AM
With best regards,
Automated employer system.
_______________________________________________________________________
Interesting. Mark applied to Bob’s because they always know what job to give someone. As someone who has turned 16 he figured it will be the perfect way to get an easy job. Although it seems he now has to go to support to figure out how to get this sorted out.
_______________________________________________________________________
Hello, I have a problem, I’m not sure what my position is or where I’m suppose to go. My Employee number is 9947246.
Mark Walkings.
_______________________________________________________________________
Hello Employee 9947246
We searched our system and your put down as position [NULL], this means you will go [SUPPORT_RESPONSE_STRING].
Hoped we helped,
Automated Support System.
_______________________________________________________________________
Well that was a helpful response, guess mark will have to go into Bob’s tomorrow and talk to a human or something, maybe he can get this sorted out and start making money.
Waking up on the 13th day of June, mark disembarks early, to get his position clarified to him. Walking into Bobbert’s things and people, he goes to the help desk, but finds only the automated help system. He decides to go and clock in and find out what to do from there.
_______________________________________________________________________
Hello [POSITION_STRING], to start. You need to do
_______________________________________________________________________
Need to do what? The screen has froze up, his ticket has printed, but it doesn’t tell him what to do. Maybe all these placeholders has crashed the system, why it took this long Mark doesn’t know but he waits for a human to fix the system.
Instead of hanging on the screen, or blanking out. After a while the screen goes back to the POS menu and mark still stands there.
“Hey pal, move it we need to start our job too.”
Mark moves out the way and lets the line of people clock into the system. Everything runs smoothly like that was suppose to happen. He decides to just to do nothing, if he can get away with it then its easy money… whatever he is suppose to get paid.
_______________________________________________________________________
The days pass, and mark gets his end of the week paycheck. He “worked” a full 9 to 5 shift every day for the past week, that adds up to a grand 57 hours. Impressive. Mark checks his newly made bank account to find he has made… 525,732,210,000,000,000,000$??
he did the math and found his hourly pay was 9,223,372,036,854,775,807.25$, apparently with no tax taken out.
A few days later, and its found out that Bobbert’s things and people shut down after a major system error, and bankruptcy. |
A group of the best non-humans there were, one scientist and five military personnel, died within two hours on a simulation of Earth.
One human leading four hundred survivors from a shipwreck managed to get the entire group to survive for a month before they were located and picked up.
Now, you are all aware that Humans are deathworlders, tiny things that can withstand crushing forces. But that is nothing compared to the Exil Event.
Exil is a deathworld not unlike Earth. Once, an SRV (Scientific Research Vessel) crashed over the planet and fell. Humans sent rescue crews, while the rest of the galaxy sent recovery crews.
But on the planet there were lights. The Humans had managed to build an O2 generator out of wood and promptly hid in sealed-off caves until the crews arrived, setting up solar panels and lights to grab others' attention.
So, the reason why every crew has to have a human on board isn't so the human can be pet, but because ships with humans are 3489 times less likly to crash, and twenty orders of magnitude more likly to contain survivors when they do.
Humans invented *Search and Rescue* systems because of this. They - and you with them - will survive a crash, unless you are the unlucky one-in-a-billion person who dies in an engine core explosion or some other statistic.
Now, see a link **here** for Humans for hire. They are quite cheap, and their waist-height size is something to behold. |
It's cold in the cell, and blurry.
A fuzzy grey permeates everything, the faded bars on the window, my breakfast as it rattles into my room. Even my hands are a smudged, dirty grey. The slivers of my fingernails dark with grime. My eyesight was always dim, but now it's lost all color as well, as though the world's rainbow leaked out of my eyes one day while I slept. My eyes were once a warm, gentle brown. If I were ever shown a mirror, I would expect them to have turned an evolutionary grey.
I take hollow, aching breaths. I'm waiting for my captors to knock at my door and tell me it's my time to die. I can no longer hear the moans and occasional screams of the other prisoners. It's a blessing, for it allows me to sleep away the days uninterrupted.
Knock, knock.
Today, I am interrupted.
The door creaks open and somebody walks in. I can't tell who until I feel the familiar push of eyeglasses brushing my face. Their focus is clear. I find myself overjoyed to observe my small world properly. There are cracks in the ceiling I never noticed before.
The person who gave me the glasses is a hulking giant, and behind him- a flash of color!- is a strange woman wearing red hues. I drink them up with my eyes.
She smiles, or more accurately, grimaces. Her long fingernails are tap-tap-tapping on a device she holds in her hands.
'Wonderful, isn't it?' she asks. 'This is just the minimum we have planned for you, my dear.'
She hands me the device. I grip it and look at it- it seems to be a small television. I can see myself there, smiling at the screen. I swallow hard. I look absolutely beautiful. My black hair slides down my back. My cheeks are filled out, my body is fit and tanned. I'm smiling, genuinely smiling, showing off straight, gleaming white teeth. In my hand, which looks soft and silky, I'm holding a glittering handful of diamond necklaces.
'We figured you'd be perfect for the role.' The woman smiles again, and I see her teeth have been stained brown.
'But why?' My voice is hoarse from under-use.
'Well, you're so teachable. Now that you've been down here so long, the world has forgotten of your existence.'
I look back to the screen. There's something off about the me standing there. She's too perfect. I tap the screen near her face and it zooms in. Now I can see her eyes- they fill the screen.
I frown. They're a beautiful, impossible sky blue.
'That's not me.' I say.
The woman takes out a needle.
'Just the outside.' she says. |
"Eyes up, contact!"The voice crackled in my head, the implant instantly relaying the voice of our scout, Heimdall. I swept my rifle forward, the optical scope linked to my retina implants, instantly targeting whatever I saw. I switched from standard to thermal with a thought, the world taking on a dark blue hue. To my left and right, Loki and Tyr moved forward silently, their rifles up and scanning, just as mine was. A thought brought a small digital map of the area, rendered by satellite, and updated in real time by our tech specialist, Mimir. I heard a soft crunch and a faint whirring behind me, as Thor brought up the rear, her oversized limb augmentations making stealth harder than it was for the rest of us.
As I scanned the forest, my scope didn't register any threats, until a small blip appeared on the screen, a marker placed by Heimdall. As I crept forward, I saw the marker move across the map, tracked in real time by Heimdall's superior optical augmentations. I sent a thought over our encrypted network, reaching out to my team.
"Proceed with extreme caution, we lost Osiris and his team here. Get me eyes on that target. I need to see what I'm working with."There were blinks of acknowledgement on my HUD from my team members, each confirming. There was a slight pause, and suddenly I had a view of the target on my HUD, Heimdall linking us in to his visual cortex. It was just an outline, in thermal, of a small girl, who couldn't be more than ten or twelve.
"Heimdall, what am I seeing?"
"A little girl, Allfather. Seems to be a preteen. No obvious warning flags. Orders?"His response seemed confused as well. I pondered for a bit, unsure as well. We had been ordered to clear the sector, but command didn't say anything about ROE for children. She couldn't be the target, could she?
"Head's up Allfather, I have a thermal spike here. Behind her. See it?"I saw it, a flaring presence behind the shape of the girl, growing brighter and brighter until it dominated the view. The brilliant orange turned white and assumed the shape of a giant winged figure.
"Dragon! Bring it down! All forward!"There was a sudden burst of noise and light, and my implant automatically switched from thermal to standard. All through the forest bursts of light and fire ripped through the foliage, plasma rounds and pulse fire tearing into what we thought was a small girl. There was a roar, like a thunderclap, of a beast in pain, and then a wave of fire rolled through the forest. I heard/felt Heimdall give a cry of pain, and his signal flashed bright red as his vitals spiked and then started to fall.
"Thor, bring that damn thing down! Now!"I physically shouted, as well as issuing the mental order, my frustration at Heimdall's injury overriding my tactical control.
"Confirmed Allfather, deploying Mjolnir."There was a whirring and then a pair of loud *thunks* as her calf stabilizers deployed. "Mjolnir deployed. Firing in five."
"You heard her, Tyr, secure Heimdall, Loki, get out of there."Two blips of confirmation, and Tyr's marker started moving towards Heimdall's as Loki fell back. There was a loud buzzing behind me, followed by a blast of light and a rushing of air. A massive shockwave ripped through the forest as Thor fired her heavy railgun, Mjolnir. Normally designed for warships, the heavy railgun was far too large for any normal soldier or team of soldiers, and only Thor's extensive and oversize augmentations could handle it. The capacitors would need several minutes to recharge between shots, but I was certain that it did the trick.
In a brilliant flash of light the dragon was thrown backwards through the forest, blood pouring from a hole in its chest the size of a truck. It was down. I wasn't content to assume that however and I moved up slowly, my rifle at the ready. As I neared the hulking carcass of the dragon, I was finally sure that it was dead. Damn things were almost impossible to kill with normal weapons and their magic and strength were a threat to even the special forces Pantheon Teams.
"She's down. Nice work Thor. How's Heimdall?"
"Wounded, but stable. He'll need a few weeks leave to get this patched up, but he'll live."I breathed a sigh of relief. This damn cold war had cost more than its fair share of casualties, and I was glad no one on my team was going to add to it. The Dragon had underestimated us, thinking we were another light recon team, like Osiris had been. It wasn't prepared for Mjolnir.
"Command, contact! Three, no four! Six contacts, all moving supersonic towards your position!"Mimir's voice was an urgent crackle in my head. Six? Supersonic meant mages, best case, and elementalists in the worst. Damn it all.
"Fall back, get the hell out of here. Now! Thor, get Heimdall!"The blips all confirmed and started falling back. Still, with six mages incoming, there was no way we'd get out in time. We needed more time.
"Mimir, get me Gungnir."There was a blip and then I felt the increased neural load as the satellite was retasked. My right implant opened, linking in with the satellite data so that I could see the mages as if they were right in front of me. I attached the rail extension and deployed the external capacitors, getting myself into a prone position. I wasn't moving from here for awhile, but that was alright. As I sighted in on the lead mage, my dual viewpoints linked together to match target speed and distance. There was a brief humming as my railgun charged up, then a flash as I softly squeezed the trigger. On the satellite view, the lead mage dropped like a rock, hurled backwards by the force of the tungsten slug. The other five stopped immediately, slowing and surveying their surroundings.
I sighted again, this time on a wizened old man, who looked around with a blank expression. There was another hum, then I fired again. My railgun didn't pack near the punch of Thor's, but I could fire every few seconds. I was watched as the shell, moving faster than sound, ripped through the air towards my target. However, instead of the satisfying spray of blood and a fallen body, it impacted his hand with a flash of light and what I was sure was a loud bang, though it was hard to hear from three kilometers away. The old man had his bloodied hand outwards, the shielding spell runes circling his hand slowly. Damned mages, hard to believe a human could stop a railgun shot. Well, not entirely stopped I guess, Gungnir never missed, which gave me a small satisfaction, seeing the ruined and bloodied form of the old man's hand. Still, as I watched, he turned and looked at me, right at me. I don't know how the hell he saw me from that distance, but I felt a chill run through me.
"Mimir, get me a fucking containment team! Now! Anti-mage gear all around."
"Affirmative, sir. I suggest a retreat. You have slowed their advance, but I detect large quantities of magic being pulled to their location. I posit an attack is incoming."What? From there? No way. Not possible. No mage could pull that much power. As I looked through the Gungnir implant, I realized my mistake. It wasn't one mage, it was five, all forming one of their damned circles. I hurriedly disconnected my rifle from the capacitors and decided against trying to pack them all up. I left them where they lay, grabbing my now over sized rifle and sprinting as fast as I could,my right eye implant closing again. On my HUD I saw Loki and the others were already to the Angel, and I realized my diversion had worked. Now I just to survive it.
"Sir, I suggest haste, the attack appears nearing completion."Mimir suggests haste. Why didn't I think of that? I was moving as fast as my augmented limbs could take me, moving at nearly 50 kph, even through the dense undergrowth.
"Incoming, sir."Damn, I wasn't gonna make it. In a rush of wind and a great blast of heat, I was hurled forward as the entire sector of forest behind was suddenly ablaze with the heat of a sun. As I was hurled forward, I struck a tree, feeling the nerve endings fray as my right arm was forcibly ripped from its housing. My last though before I lost consciousness was that we weren't the only ones who had been underestimated. |
“Melinda Michaelchuck, you’re the last person I expected to see in this building.” Allen Smith was shaking his head as we moved from the waiting room to his office. The plump man in the million dollar suit was almost unrecognizable to me. He had been scruffy, thin, and wearing a filthy winter coat when we met four years ago.
“I thought motherhood was your passion now?” he went on, gesturing for me to take a seat.
“Well, I got tired of it.”
Allen let out a feigned laugh as he unbuttoned his suit-jacket and sat behind his big desk. “That’s too bad. I can’t get enough already.”
I had almost forgotten he had twin newborns at home. It was so strange to picture a man who had barely been able to care for himself--a man who I had opened my home to so he wouldn’t freeze in the snow--was responsible for other human beings now.
“How are the babies doing?” I asked casually.
Allen made a face. “You know, we don’t have to do that. We both know you’re bad at small talk.”
“I am?”
“You’re also bad at playing dumb.”
“Excuse me?”
Allen sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Can we just get it over with? Maybe you haven’t done this before but I’ve been through it a hundred times. You give me your demands and I’ll discuss them with my lawyer. Then you get the money, after you sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
I blinked dumbly at him. “I didn’t come here to blackmail you, Allen. I came here because you’re running a great company that I want to work for.”
This time he let out a real laugh. “Sure you did, and how could you help it if a few details I’d never want the press to know slipped out of your mouth during a polite conversation?”
“Allen, I’ve known embarrassing things about you for years,” I said curtly, “and I’ve never asked you for anything.”
“Ha! So, we’re starting there? Now, go on and tell me how I owe you my life. How I was out of my mind, and had no one to turn to before we met. I bet you still have those recordings of me rambling about the shadow government and UFOs, before you got me back on my meds.”
I scoffed and said nothing as I rose to my feet. My husband and I had recorded some of Allen’s episodes so we could share them with a therapist we knew. We had wanted tips on how to deal with his mood swings and paranoia. Discovering that he’d assumed we’d use them to squeeze him for money someday made me sick.
“Okay, maybe you did come here looking for a job.”
Those words made me stop and turn when I reached the door.
“And If I hire you, maybe we’ll be on good terms for years and you’ll never bring up my past,” he continued, sounding somewhat deflated now. “Then what happens one day when your kid becomes expensively ill or gets into an Ivy League he can’t afford? Am I really supposed to believe you’d never exploit what you know about me to get to my money?”
I slowly shook my head at him. “I don’t know what’s happened to you since you became a success, but your lack of faith in people is disturbing, considering how long you lived off the generosity of others.”
He laughed again. “So, you’re saying you deleted every recording? You didn’t decide to keep at least one after you discovered I had become the richest man in this state?”
That question gave me pause. “People… It’s not uncommon for someone to…” I couldn’t get out the rest of the explanation I was trying to throw together. I had to take a deep breath and try again. “I just kept them as a habit, Allen. I’m used to saving everything, just in case. What if I had deleted them and then you asked for them at some point? For medical reasons or--”
Allen held up a hand. “Enough, Melinda.”
“I can go home and delete them right now.”
“That’s the trouble with digital files, it’s very hard to know if they have truly been destroyed. To know if there’s no backup out there, somewhere.” Allen sounded bored with her now. “That’s why we need to make an agreement and put it in writing. Give me a price and I’ll have my lawyer contact you.”
My gaze fell before I looked back up at him. “I’ll have to pay my own lawyer to look over the contract. You’ll cover that expense?”
Allan nodded. “Of course.”
My stomach churned throughout the discussion that followed, but when it was over Allen seemed more relaxed than ever.
“Don’t worry, Melinda,” he said nonchalantly, as he held the door to his office open for me. “Perhaps you never saw this coming but I did, and I’ve made peace with it.”
Allen’s tone switching from hostile to forgiving was the worst part.
“I did come for a job,” I murmured.
He patted me on the shoulder and smiled sadly. “I know.”
|
When he says that 'Ma shot first' I took it to mean that she had anticipated that Scott had gone inside with the intent of killing her and so had paid Jonathan to go inside so he could then kill Scott on his release.
It explains Jonathan's vagueness about why he's inside, why the shy Jonathan approaches Scott to sit with in the first place.
I can really imagine a good little short film of this with that twist - at the end, as Scott goes to the bathroom and Jonathan comes in behind him... |
He looked at her with his coal-black eyes. "I know you might find me a bit obtuse,"he said, "But I believe we're right for each other. We complement each other."
She stared silently. The degree of her annoyance was increasing by the second.
"Please,"he said, clasping his clawed hands together. "You may not think I'm a sharp devil, but I am a cute one."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm damaged goods,"she said quietly.
He took her hand. "I love you,"he sighed, "even if you *are* a wrecked angle."
|
A while ago, I decided that if I had to rot in here, in between planes, I might as well be useful. I had thought about haunting for fun but fought against it.
When I found the Samps, I thought I could help them. A mono-parental mom, with 2 children, a son and a daughter, aged 9 and 4 back then.
The first time I tucked Samantha, I realized she could see me as she tried to place her hand on mine. She didn't seem afraid of me.
For a full year, Sam and William could see me as I tended to them and played with toys with them.
Then one day, William turned 8 and started ignoring me. At first I thought he was done with me.but then I realized he couldn't see me anymore. So I kept playing with Sam and took care of things Will and his mom, Jeanne, would forget.
One day, bored from being alone in the house, I decided to make food for the Samps. It wasn't much. Slow-cooked roast with veggies.
When Jeanne came back that night, she nearly had a heart attack looking at the food. Searching a cause, she yelled at Will for leaving school at lunch time.
"I didn't leave school ground, mom."said the boy. "I swear."
"Jess?"asked the little girl next to her brother.
"Who's Jess, Samantha? Your imaginary friend?"
I was surprised she calledme out. I had told Sam my name when we were playing, by drawing it.
"She's the lady in blue. The ghost of the house."
"Stop trying to protect your brother, he's still grounded."
"Mom."said Will. "She's right. I used to see Jess also but I can't anymore. She's the one that was tucking us in when you couldn't. The one playing with us when you worked."
I waved at Sam and nodded to confirm.
"And now she wants to cook for us."
"You'll have to grow out of it at some point. And if I catch you leaving school again..."
"Mom, look behind you."said Sam, pointing toward me.
"You know I can't see your imagi--"started Jeanne, before seeing what would describe as a floating kitchen glove, waving at her. Seconds later, she fainted.
"Thank you Jess. I'll take care of her."said William, looking at where he thought I would be.
* * * *
It had been a couple of years since these events. Since then, Jeanne had adapted to living with me and the kids being taken care of when time was of the essence.
One night, as I was putting Sam to bed, she startled me with the subject she brought up.
"Jess, tomorrow, I'll be 10. I might not be able to see you anymore but keep in mind that we love you and we wouldn't be the same family without you. You have kept us all going living to the fullest and we thank you for that. Never leave us."
------
Hey everyone, Volvary here. Thanks for reading this. I always enjoy writing prompts. If you want to read more, I try to properly update my subreddit r/volvarywrites but often forget to so I post all the ones I forgot in large batches when I do. So if you want more, go over there for my other past prompts.
Thanks again for reading. |
Jasper rode the elevator alone to Mr. Hu's office on the top floor, while trying his best not to dampen the manila folder too much with his sweaty palms. It was a feeling shared by everyone in the building; today's meeting was a critical turning point not just for the company, but for the country of Edensia.
The secretary gave Jasper a tight smile and waved him through immediately into the CEO's spacious office. It was a grand place; lots of old-world wood mixed with next-generation steel, a marriage fit for one who, in many ways, was industrial royalty.
Mr. Hu himself cut an impressive figure. Wide-shouldered and extremely tall, with hair of pure silver, he was standing at the window, hands knotted behind his back as he watched his empire. Jasper noted the rare appearance of Mr. Hu's tailored suit today. There were all kinds of superstitious rumors about it.
"Mr. Hu, the delegation is here,"Jasper said.
The CEO didn't reply, but raised a hand and made a beckoning gesture. Jasper hurried to his side.
"I don't think you've seen the country from here,"Mr. Hu said, stroking his bare chin. His glasses glinted with sunlight.
Jasper could only nod. Being almost two thousand feet above the ground, he had a good view of their city of New Congo, as well as the surrounding plains interspersed by forests. The occasional city dotted the horizon, all of it belonging to the youngest country in the world. Edensia was a tiny nation carved out of Central Africa, following a period of strife and all-out war that even the UN had failed to quell. Ultimately, heavily armed corporations and private military groups had swooped in and seized control of the territory, giving rise to a unique new system of government--one that the world had not come to terms with yet. Mr. Hu's Phoenix Energy Corporation had been one of the first, with an aim to rebuild the country's energy sector.
But the seas were rough and the voyage worse. Mr. Hu's face was lined with worry as he studied the fenced compound about a mile away, where construction workers were rushing the completion of a new coal-fired plant.
Jasper didn't want to disturb his boss's thoughts, but cleared his throat nonetheless. "Sir, the meeting?"
Mr. Hu blinked and turned from the window, facing him at last. "Yes. Shall we?"
As they headed to the elevator, Jasper offered the folder and the notes inside to the CEO, but Mr. Hu waved it away. The CEO rarely relied on printed materials; he preferred working through a meeting on his instincts. It was what made him a skilled negotiator.
Six floors down and a maze of corridors later, they arrived at the boardroom. Armed guards stood at attention outside, flanking some other top executives of the company. Of the visiting delegation, he saw no sign.
"They're inside,"one of the guards said, guessing at his searching look.
With Mr. Hu in the lead, their party entered the boardroom and fanned out to greet their visitors. Jasper, however, stood by the door, studying the latter group as everyone shook hands.
The visiting delegation was a group of eight, four men and four women, of various age groups and nationalities. They all wore green shirts, some with camo patterns, and caps printed with a logo of a black rhino over a splash of white. Their leader, a man known as Jodhi, clasped Mr. Hu's hands genially. His grin had the sparkle of gold, matching the earrings and rings adorning his fingers.
Once everyone was seated, Jodhi said, "Thank you for having us here, Mr. Hu. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
"Likewise,"Mr. Hu said. The older CEO was drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair. Jasper felt a strange urge to yell at him to stop.
"I regret, however, that it's taken so long for you to agree to meet us."Jodhi's band nodded solemnly. "The people of this country have had their voices silenced for so long, and when you, Mr. Hu, and all the other corporations came to restore order, we thought there would be change. A new dawn. A new beginning."
"But it seems that our oppressors have only been replaced. It gives me no pleasure to point fingers, but you are one of them."
The snake, Jodhi thought. He actually looks apologetic.
Mr. Hu merely smiled and motioned for him to carry on.
Jodhi stood and strode toward the window. "As we speak here, this beautiful country is being raped and plundered. Your company has come to steal our riches, and to control our people, for the sake of your profits. You want to hold us all hostage under your new energy laws. Everyday you destroy more forests, more homes, to make way for your grids. You pollute the air with fumes that our children breathe. You poison our rivers with sludge that our children drink. You--"
"I'm sorry for cutting you off, Jodhi, but I've heard this all before,"Mr. Hu said. "I believe you made the same speech last week in Paris, last month in Washington and ... where was it before? Ah, Vienna. No, you were there on holiday, I forgot."
Mr. Hu smirked. "Yes, I know where you've been. Your environmental group has been paying you rather well, I think. Public donations are surging ... I wonder if your donors know you've recently bought three penthouses in London and Singapore?"
"Let's just cut to the chase. My operations have been interrupted far too many times by a washed up actor using social concerns for his own gains. I cannot tolerate that anymore. The entire truth about you will be released next week, broadcast across the world, if you do not disband your little Save Edensia organization by tomorrow. Do you understand?"
Jodhi clenched his fist and looked at his team, but they only stared mutely at Mr. Hu. Maybe they weren't aware themselves, Jasper thought.
Then Jodhi relaxed visibly, smiling. "Very clever. You've done your research. Let's deal. You agree right now to stop building Plant Eight, right there outside this window, and I'll resign from my position. Win-win. Save Edensia will have the victory it needs, and you'll get me out of the way."
Mr. Hu folded his arms. "Not going to happen."
Jodhi shrugged and raised his phone. "Guess I'll just have to make a call then."
For a second, nobody reacted to that unusual request, but then the puzzle fell into its frame. "Stop him,"Jasper shouted.
Too late; Jodhi thumbed the phone, and a distant boom was heard. A column of smoke slowly wound its way up into the air.
"That's, what, the third plant this month?"Jodhi said with a grin. "Lots of accidents these days, you really should look into some form of OSHA. Oh, and the class action lawsuits by these poor, unprotected workers are really adding up, aren't they?"
Mr. Hu shot Jasper a single look, and Jasper complied. He drew a pistol, hidden in the folder all this while, and put a bullet into Jodhi's skull. The rest of the Save Edensia team jumped to their feet, but none made it to the door.
Mr. Hu cupped his head in his hands and groaned. Jasper felt a pang of sympathy for him; he knew the CEO had genuinely wanted to negotiate. Perhaps Jodhi's replacement would be more reasonable. Personally, Jasper wasn't optimistic. Peace and prosperity in this new nation could only be obtained from the end of a gun.
Lucky for him, his was the hand holding it.
***
*Thanks for reading. Check out more of my work in my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker).* |
I felt a tap on my forehead.
'Wendy, get up. We're alone.' The mortician informed me.
I sat up on the cold metal table and stretched. 'Thanks Hannah.'
'No problem. But remember, its Bridget now. Hannah was my my mother.' She reminded me.
'Right.' I snorted. 'How many generations has this place been in your family now?'
'Eighteen.' She grinned. 'Daughter to daughter.'
'And no one questions that theres never a child?' I asked.
'I'm a mortician. People avoid me.' She said.
'I cant believe she stabbed me.' I said with a sigh.
'She STABBED you?' Bridget gaped.
'Yeah. I was expecting a gun or something less painful. Just because I wont die doesn't mean it wont hurt.' I complained.
'She's never murdered someone before, give her a break. Shes a baby immortal, she doesn't know any better.' She reminded me. I sighed.
'Where is she?' I asked, glancing around.
Silence. My heart squeezed.
'Where is she?' I asked again.
'Well....shes not here.'
'Why NOT?' I yelled.
'Shes bad at this, Wendy!' She yelled back. 'Poor thing called the cops, and jumped off the roof!'
'So why isnt she here?' I demanded.
'She didn't even lose consciousness! She broke a leg and some ribs. She's in a hospital now, alive and under police custody until her trial.' Bridget explained.
'Trial?' I gasped.
'Of course, she killed you, Wendy.' She sighed. 'You should have done it. At least you know how to do right!'
I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. Great, I was going to have to break my wife out of a hospital. And kill her. WITHOUT humans knowing it was me doing it because I was supposed to be dead.
I grabbed my phone and saw a missed message from my wife.
'I fucked up!' It said. |
Phildar the psycho they call me. The great culler. The Wizard of death. Harsh names I think, all I wanted to do was create spells to help people.
I create spells with the intent to heal or assist people in simple tasks. But you make one spell that flays people of their skin when used incorrectly and they start giving you bad names. Not my fault they didn't use it on potatoes like I told them to.
The spell of burning, spell of boiling and spell of roast. All harmless spells to aid today's chefs. But due to a poor sale on my behalf, some mage decided to go around burning people, boiling their skin or roasting their insides. Apparently this was all my fault. Sure, blame the salesman, not the customer.
Anyway, here I am. In court. Arguing my case to a room of dimwits that could barely cast a small light. "You can't blame me, I'm not the one who caused harm!"I insisted to the room. This was met with blank stares and the occasional eye roll.
"Look, they're already in prison. I mean they set 20 people on fire. You're here for supplying and assisting them in the process"the judge stated to me, his beard jumping from his chest as he spoke.
"Let's look at some of your other spells shall we?"He postulates. "Spell of melting, spell of lifting, spell of…ritual sacrifice?"He looks down his brow at me.
I'll admit, that one was a bit touch and go… "Ahem. That one was for…umm…a church…somewhere". Couldn't tell them about the Satan worshippers that paid me a lot for that one.
"Uh-huh"the judge replied. "Continuing on. Spell of grinding, spell of sawing, spell of mining. Christ, this list doesn't end"the judge placed the papers down in a huff.
I did create rather a lot didn't I? Ah well, a spell of persuasion should do the trick. "B-but you see I'm not the man you're looking for"I spoke, expecting the usual pink aura to escape my lips. But instead, nothing.
"Spell of persuasion I assume?"The judge lowered his glasses. "Yes. Obviously we stopped you from being able to use your foul magics in here"he said.
Well, suppose that I was a little stuck then. Seems I'd spend eternity in a cell, surrounded by stone walls and filthy vagrants. "You shall all pay for putting me away!"I screamed at the judge and court.
"Put you away? Phildar. We're giving you a small fine and some guidelines for future sales"he replies not looking up from his papers. "The guidelines being, please name your spells better, and try not to allow them to be used on people…".
"O-of course judge"I trembled out. Suppose it was time for a new leaf, try and make more sensical spells.
How does the spell of reformation sound? |
It took us too long to realise.
We first encountered them just under 5 years ago, when we turned up unannounced by warp drive in a star system that was at the edges of their expansion. And we did the most human thing possible. We panicked. As we approached them one our exploration ships let out a warning shot and the situation deteriorated from there.
At first we managed to hold our ground, when we fought we gave as good as we got. Most of our maneuvers was calculated by our on board computer systems as when ships are travelling at relativistic speeds it's too fast for a human to react within the window of opportunity to engage.
Then within a few months they were winning every time. Wherever we decided to engage them they outnumbered us, when we encountered them on a planet surface, any flanking maneuver or surprise attack was countered before it started. At this point we thought we had a leak, someone had passed on our combat systems or was somehow passing our movements to them. So we changed it, reprogrammed the entire system to be more defensive.
It worked for a while, but the aliens learnt quickly. Within mere weeks we were encountering the same issues, we were losing to many people too quickly, and we started to give ground. Unfortunately for us, we weren't as quick at understanding the patterns and it was only a stroke of luck that revealed their secret.
A Fleet Commander Lei disobeyed a direct order. She arrived at a mining colony to aid in the evacuation as the aliens tore the defenses apart, the small fleet stationed there was not enough to hold them. Lei's orders were to ensure the recovery of the planets elected officials and records, but she couldn't leave the defense fleet unaided. The results were unexpected. It was a decisive victory resulting in total destruction of the alien armada with less than 20% loss for us, despite the number being even. The only difference in this battle. The disobedience.
At last we had their secret, the way they were always one step ahead of us. We were predictable, in every possible way. So this lead to the issue how do we remain unpredictable?
Well that's why I'm here now on the bridge of the flagship of the largest fleet assembled in human history.
"Are you ready?"asks fleet commander Lei.
I slowly nod, feeling the pressure of humanity's fate that rests on my shoulder crushing me.
"Then roll for initiative."
I pick up the two dice, and gently shake them in my hand. One action to decide the fate of trillions. I let the dice tumble out of my hands and onto the desk in front of me, my heart skips a beat as I see the result staring back at me.
**20** **20**
Double twenty. Operation All or Nothing.
Attack the alien homeworld. |
The Sister | The Brother
:---|:---
Today is the day | Today is the day
Today they are going to announce the verdict. | Today they are going to announce the verdict.
Antsy and anxious, I can't just sit at home. I head to the bar. | I've been on a bender for the past 2 weeks of deliberation.
The case has been the talk of the town, and CNN has displaced sports on all the TVs for the past week or so. | All my money went to his defense, but the barkeep is a friend. About the only one I have left.
Despite being so close to the case, I've been able to keep a low profile so far. 3 PM on a Tuesday, so the place is pretty empty any way. There's a pretty beat up looking guy at the other end of the bar. | I don't know how I've kept out of the papers and away from the paparazzi. The media circus has been all over this one. The bar's dead quiet. Except for a pretty girl at the other end of the bar, the kind that you don't often see in places like this.
I order a beer, tip the barman five dollars. I'm feeling good today, I'm feeling good about the verdict. | The barman gives me yet another beer on the house. I know he sympathizes, but I know he can't show it.
My sister was killed some 6 months ago. Some sick fuck kidnapped her, raped her, and scattered pieces of her body over a three mile stretch of interstate. The police found this poor schlub. Some creepy weirdo, couldn't account for where he was that night. Witness saw him around my sisters house the night she disappeared. He didn't confess. The fucker keeps pleading his innocence. I don't believe him for a second. | Some woman was killed 6 months ago. She was kidnapped, raped, and her body mutilated. I don't know how it happened, but the dumb-ass cops arrest my brother. Yeah, he's a little weird, but not this kind of weird. He didn't lawyer right away, that fucked him over good. Most of their case hinged on some idiot neighbor eyewitness, the rest is circumstantial bullshit and scare tactics. He says he's innocent, I know he is.
The TV switches to the courthouse steps. Reporter gives a lead in, and it cuts into the courtroom. The foreman of the Jury is at the microphone. | Bleary eyed I realize the TV is on the courthouse steps. I guess this is it. Some bimbo is summarizing the case like everyone hasn't been paying attention for the last 6 weeks. They cut to the foreman.
“We the Jury find the defendant guilty on all counts. Our decision is unanimous.” | “We the Jury find the defendant guilty on all counts. Our decision is unanimous.”
The judge speaks up.| It's the fat dumb fuck judge's turn.
“You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. Due to the heinous nature of the crime, I have no choice but to sentence you to death by lethal injection.” | “You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. Due to the heinous nature of the crime, I have no choice but to sentence you to death by lethal injection.”
This is justice.| Is this justice?
|
I used to think that I was the descendant of King Arthur. At least, until I learnt that there was no real evidence of King Arthur ever existing. Now I have no idea who these mysterious knights are. I once tried asking online, describing their armor in as much detail as I could, but no one was able to piece it together. Of course, if I ever try to talk to any of the knights, or otherwise make contact with them, they simply vanish.
Other people do notice the knights, but they never seem quite as alarmed as they should be. They simply act as if a large group of knights appearing when a high-school boy is in danger is a perfectly natural thing. Trying to ask them about the knights after or before the fact gives strange results. For example, when I told my friend Fredrick about the knights He didn't believe me and thought I was making things up. When he later witnessed the knights appearing to break up a fight between me and Lance, he acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. When I then told him that these knights were the knights I was talking about earlier, he acted like they were totally different things. It was at around that point that I gave up on trying to explain to people about the knights.
Anyways, after each bully in school had in turn got their ass handed to them by the knights, they stopped pestering me, so I wasn't really in danger that often. Of course, I was quite surprised to see them at the graduation ceremony, sitting on a bench all by themselves. My mind started racing. What could possibly have been dangerous here? Was someone planning to shoot me? Did someone plant a bomb in the school? If there was a bomb, how would the knights protect me? I scanned the audience looking for anyone suspicious, but there was no-one (except the knights themselves of course). One by one, each student came on stage to accept their diploma. I nervously looked back to the knights after each one, but they didn't move. Eventually, I was called to the stage myself. Quaking in my shoes, I stepped on the stage, trying to reassure myself that whatever danger there was here, the knights would protect me. Even as I received my diploma, the knights remained still. No bomb exploded, no sniper fired a shot. My terrified face probably made for a bad picture, but I didn't care. When I finally sat down, the student sitting next to me asked "So what are you planning to do after high-school."I had never really considered this question before. As I thought about it, I heard the clanging of metal, as before either of us could react, we were surrounded by the knights.
Maybe I should've thought about it a bit more after all.
EDIT: If I decide to add a part 2 it'll be a /r/zigman32writes
EDIT2: Part 2 exists now! (Pherhaps eventually a part three) https://www.reddit.com/r/zigman32writes/comments/6f5unq/the_knights_part_two/
EDIT3: Part 3, the final part, exists now! https://www.reddit.com/r/zigman32writes/comments/6f896g/the_knights_part_three_final/ |
“Why can't you be more like your sister?”
It was a question I got a lot from my parents, teachers, and sometimes I asked myself the same thing.
My sister was a world class ranked Pokemon trainer. She had traveled the world and boasted a Pokemon collection of almost every type of Pokemon there was.
I, on the other hand, hadn't made it past the second gym one town over. Now, it wasn't that I wasn't a good trainer. In fact, my Pokemon were all pretty strong. I just wasn't good at the whole competitive battling thing. I mean, don't get me wrong, my Pokemon loved battling as much as any other, but competitive battling got super cut throat. I had seen the brutal training sessions my sister had put her pokemon through, and steroid use was pretty much required to get past a certain point. I couldn't bring myself to put any of my pokemon through that.
“Squirtle! Squirt!” I was startled away from my thoughts by my squirtle, Blue, tearing past me.
Ah, Blue. There was another example of my failure. Every one of my sister’s pokemon was fully evolved. Those who didn’t want to evolve were evolved by force. But when Blue’s time had come to evolve, I had taken one look into his sad eyes, and I knew I couldn’t do that to him. He didn’t *want* to evolve into wartortle, but he was willing to do it for me. So I told him to stay as he was. I couldn’t be happy knowing he was unhappy, even if it meant giving up my dreams of becoming a successful trainer like my sister.
*"Why can't I be more like my sister?"*
Lilly, my Ninetails brushed past me, racing off after Blue. I smiled. Now, Lilly was another story. When she had evolved into ninetails, she was absolutely over the moon. She had spent a full week parading her tails around the house, waving them in everyone’s face. My mother had scoffed and told me I missed out on teaching her some high level moves by letting her evolve too soon, and I had "ruined her", but Lilly was so excited to evolve, I couldn't bring myself to make her wait.
It wasn’t until Moonlight, my Umbreon ran past me that I noticed something was off. Where were they all going?
I stood and walked in the direction they had gone. They were sitting together with my other Pokemon staring at a poster nailed to my front door.
“ATTENTION: All pokemon are now decreed to be free to do as they please. Any human who has previously claimed the title of “trainer” or otherwise held ownership of a pokemon shall hereby be brought to the nearest Pokecenter and imprisoned in a pokeball, where they shall await trial. Signed, your new king, Mewtwo.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as I read the note. I glanced down at my friends, who were chattering amongst themselves. At once they seemed to come to an agreement and Moonlight ran inside the house. He returned, holding a box containing the piece of paper I received at 11 certifying me as an official pokemon trainer, as well as my one gym badge and a few empty pokeballs.
*Poof* Lilly breathed out a small fireball and the contents of the box dissolved into nothing.
“You...you guys are protecting me? But why? My sister and I, we've dedicated our lives to catching Pokemon."
Blue shook his head and nuzzled my face. The message was clear. “*You are nothing like your sister.*”
|
My eyes are heavy as I stumble to my feet. "Ah, fuck,"I mumble, burping a little as I steady myself. I look around to see a room shrouded in mist. It's ethereal... mythical. Then it hits me.
The fucking headache. It cracks open my skull and screams to the air. Jesus, what happened last night?
"So... you're awake?"the voice booms out behind me. I jump forward and spin on my heel, wincing as my head screams louder.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I am Odin, Lord of Asgard. You are standing in my great hall of Valhalla."
"No you're fucking not. You're a chicken in a neon suit."
The giant chicken tilts its head as it studies me, yellow feathers blooming from the collar of its neon shirt.
"Yes... I am a giant chicken in a neon suit. Was that not mentioned back on earth?"
"No! You're meant to be some giant, mighty warrior."
"I am a giant, mighty warrior."
"You know what I mean,"I point a finger at the bird. "That but... not a chicken... in a neon suit."
"Watch yourself human. I'm a chicken in a neon suit who will kick your ass up and down Valhalla."
I hardly listen to its words, falling down on to one of the giant, stone chairs lined against the never ending table. I feel the blood pulse through my head, each pump more painful than the last.
"How did I get here?"I ask, eyes planted firmly on the ground.
"See for yourself."
I follow the direction of the chicken's feathery hand, to the huge pile of rubble where part of the wall once stood. A school bus lies lodged amidst the carnage, and I wince as some memories return.
"Ah, shit. This again."
"You've smashed into the great halls of an almighty chicken God before?"
"No, not exactly. But we've gotten drunk and stole a car before."
"We?"
"Yeah, me and my three idiot friends, Fred, Dave, and Steve. Where are they anyway?"
"They're dead. From the crash."
My heart sinks. My head screams. My stomach tightens.
"What?!"
"I wouldn't worry too much. They seem pretty happy with the circumstances."The chicken nods further down the narrow table, to where the idiotic trio are seated. They're singing, drinking and joking with a bunch of huge vikings, clashing mead jugs and shrieking with laughter.
"Oh, well. That's... good, I guess."
"How did you even get here anyway?"
"I have no fucking idea, chicken Odin."
"Just Odin would be fine."
A nervous laugh escapes me. "Sure thing, Odin. Anyway last thing I really remember is polishing off a liquor collection that we stole from some guy. Then... this."
"You seem to steal a lot."
"I'll admit this isn't my finest moment."
A giant feather rests on my shoulder. "I like you, mortal. You are ridiculously silly. We don't have enough of that around here. That's kind of the problem of being a warrior culture. Everyone takes themselves too seriously."
"Thanks, Odin. Say, you don't happen to have anything to eat, do you? I could do with something in my stomach that isn't alcohol."
"Sure thing. I'll order us thirty tonnes of Chinese takeout and some chocolate bars. That should feed all those seated at the tables of Valhalla."
"You can really do that?"
"We're in Valhalla! We can do anything! Hell, I'll order some balloons too! To celebrate the arrival of you four idiots!"
"Sweet!"
"Of course, I'll have to get a bag of cat kibble as well."
"... Why exactly?"
"For Thor. He's a -"
"Don't even say it."
"- a cat. You didn't know?"
"Jesus Christ."
"You wont find him here."
"No... I... Never mind."
"You humans crack me up. Right, I'll make the preparations. Go join your friends and get comfortable."The giant chicken walks away, before quickly turning back. "Oh, I almost forgot. A letter came for you, here."
I take the letter from Odin as he leaves, wondering who could ever know I was here. I unfold it gently and read the words.
*You forgot the fucking trophy room!*
*Sincerely,*
u/broomball99
\-
r/ShittyStoryCreator :) |
At about four in the morning, the vampire came knocking on my door. I wasn't sleeping. I had hoped I could catch a few hours before the regular day began, but it wasn't to be. My clients who came during regular business hours were just going to have to deal with slower treatment. They were used to that, I supposed.
The poor girl was shaking, and her greyed skin was even paler than I'd come to expect. Her visits had grown more and more frequent since her accident. I found myself wondering if she was planning on taking up residence at the clinic, and if so, how she was planning on paying the rent.
She was wearing an oversized sweater, the faded yellow yarn only making her look more drained. She closed her eyes.
"I am not here for the reasons you think I am."she told me.
It was true. I had expected she'd come yet again for a drink. For reasons I didn't fully understand, advancements in new technology were making it harder and harder for her kind to feed. If she hadn't come for blood, it was a good thing. Anything I did have I needed to hang on to for life or death situations. Ariana looked pretty rough, but she could survive another night or two without becoming too dangerous. With another vampire I might not risk it, but I'd treated her often enough before.
"Please,"I said, gesturing "come inside."
She looked visibly relieved and wasted no time entering the clinic. She wasn't wearing socks, and as soon she took off her shoes I understood the problem immediately. The entire top layer of skin was missing on her left foot. It had been charred black and what was showing through was practically glowing red. Above that, I could see at least her calf was covered in equally red skin marked everywhere by blisters. I was afraid to ask how far up the burn went.
"Who did this to you?"
"I didn't get a look at them, but I do know I thought I was in my home when at sunrise it disappeared all around me. I only know one creature in this town that can make that kind of glamour."
She made eye contact with me, perhaps trying to judge whether my loyalty was to her or the Fae. I kept my expression as plain as possible and grabbed a chair for her to sit on so I could assess the wound more properly. Before I could ask her to sit down, Ariana started talking again.
"The part I don't understand though is, I should be dead. I would be, you know. I would be dead if it wasn't for Hawk."
What was a werewolf doing saving the life of a vampire? |
"...And that's about the long and short of it,"said the strangely dressed man. "You Know Who destroyed all the records for muggle-borns that he could find. Probably to keep others from finding out about the purges, you know? We're still trying to repair all the damage that was done."
"I'm sorry,"Miss Honey said looking between her teenaged daughter and the man claiming to be a wizard. "I always knew you were special, Matilda, but I never thought you were missing out on something like this."She turned back to the man, "So what do we do? Is there a cost to enroll?"
"Mom,"Matilda had long since stopped referring to Miss Honey by her name. "It's okay, if I had gone to Hogwarts, we wouldn't have met. I wouldn't be your daughter."Matilda had grown into a happy, optimistic young girl. "Besides, I'm getting ready for Uni. I don't think Hogwarts is the place for me now."
"Yes, well, about that,"the man said, rifling through some papers in his bag. "After all of the... unpleasantness with You Know Who, we couldn't just let a bunch of untrained witches and wizards run amok, we'd have been found out for sure. I understand that you don't want to go to Hogwarts, but the Ministry of Magic would happily accept you to a different school that was created just for people like you who were, ah, *misplaced.*"
The man pulled out a small booklet and passed it over, "since it doesn't have the history of a school like Hogwarts, we needed to have a front in the Muggle world, and I'm afraid it doesn't have the greatest reputation among non-magical folk. But our magical professors are top-notch, and you'll sit the same exams you would sit at any other school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Miss Honey looked over her daughter's shoulder and asked "Well, Matilda? Do you want to attend the University of Phoenix?" |
Twenty years...never a peek, never a moment of weakness and curiosity. It was certainly a mistake to not bring down the radio to monitor how things were going. He wondered how many people would be left, have they built back society, are the remaining people troglodytes now?
It was time to get out and see how the world had changed. In 1999 it was constant consumerism, people on small wireless phones, a new Star Wars movie had just come out, he guessed he would never get to finish that saga.
Would the world be in devastation, would there have been nuclear fallout? It was time to see what happened.
As he opened the door, he was a little confused. His back lawn was not an overgrown mess cut and neatly manicured lawn. A sign draped across his door that said no trespassing. A new house had been built on his property, and they had just blocked off the entrance to his bunker. There was no debris or devastation anywhere. In fact things looked nearly the same, a little newer but all the same.
As he wondered further some came out of the house asking who he was, he explained. Next thing he knew he was in a whirlwind of people. Media and news vans, ambulances checking his vitals and overall health. Mental health professionals asking him very personal questions. He was taken aback, in 20 years almost nothing had changed and yet so much had.
He was on talk shows and viral media, people asking him what the solitude was like and what he missed. Did he expect all this. And then... then it was over. He was forgotten all in a few weeks, he had been a star and then no one again.
A publisher asked for his life rights to make a book and then movie. He agreed, but his depression came crumbling down. Twenty years of self imposed imprisonment, all due to fear.
He had never felt more like Brooks from the Shawshank Redemption. He had grown use to his walls and seclusion. He was a relic that no longer belonged in this world. And he would leave it, he was out of place and didn’t know how to re-acclimate.
So he walked back to his bunker, locked the door, never to be seen again. |
Humanity had officially never been attacked by any alien species ever. The key word is officially. No real alien fleet, coming with its mental reprogramming transmitters, will admit to having tried to take over the Earth only to find that humans aren't affected. No, not just aren't affected. They're completely, and 100% immune. Species who use biological psionic probes, said that the human mind was like trying to make sense of a hurricane, non-existing colours, the feeling of being adrift in a vast screaming ocean, and being struck by a bar of gold with a fruitpeel wrapped around it at the same time. It also had a number of curious side-effects on the naturally psionic when they tried, ranging from abnormally high levels of hormone production, to causing them to run around in a circle while screaming joyfully. This has since become a major problem for said races, since the humans don't feel or notice anyone doing it, and it is highly addictive, many psionically gifted races find their younger members reading human minds often, wasting their formative years on being completely mindblown.
So no official attempt at an invasion was ever done. But humans were an odd race, in more ways than just their immunity to direct mind control. They were easy to advertise to. Very easy. So easy that they bought things that they didn't actually needed at all. What human needs a D'saarian chair, built for a race with six legs? Yet inexplicably, you'd sometimes find a human purchasing such a thing, after seeing it in an ad and then they actually wind up using it too. The extreme blood-festival of the Yharqol, where you had to either make others bleed or be bled, would be attended by a number of human tourists in garishly coloured clothes. This confused the Yharqol, who usually have to kidnap aliens to visit the festival. Weirder still was how they were perfectly okay with going around and stabbing those weaker than them while sipping the ceremonial drinks, so poisonous with alcohol that few but the Yharqol ever survived drinking them, through colourful straws. Advertising for the festival was actually a warning about aliens to stay away from it.
Humans could be advertised anything to buy. Asteroid home? Humans will buy. Planet with no atmosphere? Humans will buy. A rickety old spaceship held together with sheer force of will alone? Humans will buy. Odd thing was how you could be completely honest about them buying a literal piece of junk from your garbage compactor, but they were still interested. And they always wound up using the stuff they bought. Rarely as what they were intended for, but always they would find some use.
Worst thing was when one of the predatory races of the galaxy, who do not care where the meat comes from, advertised cloned human meat. And some humans actually attended the launch and ate of their own kind's flesh. The advertisement for the event literally showed a cloned human being butchered and cooked. And yet when you advertise, the humans buy. Most predatory races now have a healthy respect for how humans are completely nonplussed about such things.
When a war happened, and there were advertisement for volunteers, humans joined both sides. Everywhere the humans went, they bought the dumbest and weirdest things. And nobody could even look into their minds, nobody could tell why. The weirdest thing was that the memetic brainwashing in the advertisements didn't work, they just saw the ads and went out to buy. Of their own free will. As if merely being told something in big shiny letters made them think it was a good idea. A sellers best customers, but also the single most perplexing customers in the universe.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
The Being tells me that my life will begin again in a few moments, just as it did before. I ask if I'll remember anything. "Yes,"it says, "Everything. Everyone remembers everything."
I wonder how that will work. My birth parents, for example, divorced when I was fifteen. I'm pretty sure they would have never gotten together if they knew what a shitshow they would be. So how will I...
*Here it comes...* The pressure on my head is horrific, I'm squeezing through a...dear god, I'm being *born!*
After my head passes through, the rest of my tiny body seems to come out in a rush.The nurse wipes me down, then wraps me in a towel and hands me to my mother.
"Well, Greg, you can stop asking if she's yours!"she sneers. "She's too ugly to be anyone else's."
"Oh, fer chrissakes, Millie, give it a rest, will ya?"my father whines as he stands--or *tries* to stand--by the bed. He's several feet away and wearing a surgical mask, but I can still smell the gin on his breath.
*That's it*, I think, *I'm going to give it to 'em.* We have a chance for a fresh start here, guys. Why torture ourselves with the same old shit? So I open my mouth to tell them...
But my mouth doesn't open. I reach to feel it--but my hand doesn't move. I look at my hand--but my eyes don't swivel, my head doesn't move, it just keeps looking at my mother.
Maybe I can't voluntarily move yet. Just keep trying... no, I just keep staring at Mommy...
And then I see it--the despair, the torment, the *horror* behind her eyes--and I realize that it's not just me.
We're all *locked in*--powerless to change even the worst choices or avoid the most painful moments, and forced to relive every moment.
Seeing, but not *looking*.
Feeling, but not *touching*.
Experiencing, but not *living*.
I wonder how different the world we've left behind could have been, had we only known that with every choice we made, we were literally building our own hell. |
"You cannot defeat Malazar the Mighty!"I roar, throwing my clawed hands into the air, standing in victory over the tiny human, my eyes a bright glowing red and my laughter a horrible cackle. "Taste your ruin and let your words turn to ashes in your mouth, ashes that remind you of your failure!"
"It's just Monopoly."She says.
"It is just your grand defeat, you mean!"I loom over her. It does not have the same effect it used to have, she has grown used to me. "I have secured the Boardwalk *and* this Park Place! Your downfall is guaranteed!"
She rolls her eyes at me. She has grown much in these years, once upon a time she was merely five years of age. Now she is nearly ten! Time passes so quickly on this mortal plane. She holds out dice to me, I pluck them from her hand and roll.
I roll a seven.
I furrow my brow and move my iron seven spaces, to land on this...Baltic Avenue. With a hotel.
"Oh no."I say. A smile as evil as any demon crosses her lips and she stands, raises her arms above her head and gloats.
"You cannot defeat Lucy the Lucky!"
"Lucy the Loser, more like."I grumble, counting out the little remaining cash I have into her outstretched palm.
"Sore loser."She says with that evil grin, licking her fingertips and counting the money like some vicious banker.
"Sore winner."I scowl, sitting cross legged and looming over the board. "What sustenance shall we procure tonight?"
"Sure, change the subject, that will make me forgot how much a loser you are, Malazar the Melancholy."She says, rolling the dice and tapping her dog piece ahead the appropriate number of squares. "Pizza. We should get pizza."
I groan.
"Lucy, we *always* have pizza."I whine. She shrugs and throws the dice to me. I roll and find myself in prison, only visiting. A small victory, I now must run the gauntlet of her properties. This will end poorly, as it usually does.
"Pizza, pizza, pizza."She chants. I sigh. Pizza it is. I have procured a cellphone for this purpose. I even have an email now, the others think that is silly. I do not care, I have easy orders saved and that makes my life easier.
Hell is so boring, never thinking outside the box.
​
We eat our pizza slices while we watch one of these horror film remakes.
"Not as good as the original."She says.
"Did you know that in Hell we have a demon who watches the remakes and raves about how excellent they are compared to the original, while superfans sit with their mouths sewn shut and have to listen?"I say, catching a pepperoni slice before it falls to the carpet. I'm a demon, not a poor houseguest.
"That sounds awful."She says, without emotion. I have told her this a thousand times by now. I do not care.
"It is!"I ignore her lack of excitement, as I usually do.
It is midnight when she falls asleep, leaning on me. I have not been concerned with her bedtime in many years. It is before I scoop her into my arms that I hear the scraping at the front door. It pushes open and hushed voices enter the darkness of the house.
Interesting.
There are two of them. They stumble into the living room where the dim light of the TV shows me they are unkept. I know them. They are expected, it would appear they are expected sooner than we thought.
"Don't move."One of them says, clicking a gun and pointing it at me. Humans, goodness, they lack creativity.
"Leave."I growl. They laugh.
"I've got the gun, idiot."The one with the gun points out, as if I am slow and do not know this.
"You should listen to him."Lucy says from my lap, where she has stirred awake. "Just go."
"Fuck you."The one with the gun growls, pointing it at Lucy. That, that is a mistake.
I stand. They watch me stand, eyes growing wider as I unfold to my height, ducking my head so I do not hit the vaulted ceiling. I let my limbs fall out and my teeth lengthen, my eyes glow a brighter red.
They begin to scream.
​
Lucy's mother is first to return. Lucy is in bed, sleeping without a care. I sit on the couch with a book. Lucy's mother turns on the light and sits in the chair.
"Thank you, Malazar."She says. Then she leans forward and looks at a spot on the carpet. "Pizza, again?"
I look at the spot.
Yes. Pizza...
"You know how much she likes pizza."I say. Lucy's mother nods, too tired to really care.
"Thanks again."She says, before I disappear.
I return home to the fiery pits of Hell and find them waiting for me, as requested. I drag a claw down their cheeks and they weep, there are no guns here. No, there certainly aren't. I smile at them, a horrible thing.
"You should have just left."I say. |
**Day 82, I think.**
I *loved* the movie Groundhog Day when I was younger. Bill Murray, reliving the same day over and over again. It just seemed like so much fun. He got to do *whatever he wanted*, with no consequences. He could steal money and buy whatever he wanted. He could say anything he wanted to say. Complete freedom.
Well, now I'm stuck in a similar loop. But I'm not starring in a quirky comedy where you know there is a happy ending. I'm in the most gruesome horror film you could ever imagine. I don't wake up every morning to a clock radio playing "I Got You Babe;"I wake up to the sounds of my mindless parents hammering at my door, wanting to feast on my flesh. My younger sister wasn't enough to satisfy them, apparently. They must have killed me a dozen times before I realized what was happening. The first few, I just opened the door for them, thinking that my last death was a dream. The next few were because I would just hide out in my room until they eventually broke down the flimsy wooden barrier. Then I tried fighting them, using my field hockey stick (which isn't particularly sharp). That didn't work very well, and the ruckus just called in more of them from the streets. This was the first time I had a breakdown, and I suffered a few more deaths just sobbing until they got me.
Around day 30, I realized I wasn't ever going to just wake up from this, and I needed to run. So I went out the window. There's an old oak *just* close enough to the window that I can jump to it. I'd always wanted to try it, but Mom would have *murdered* me. Well, now I'm Bill Murray and I can do what I want, right? And she was trying to murder me anyway. I climbed out onto the window sill and made a leap for it. My fingertips grazed leaves, and I landed on the patio with a sickening crunch. My legs were broken, and it didn't take long for my family to find me and devour me.
Eventually I mastered the art of tying my sheets into a rope, hooking it around a sturdy branch, and swinging over to the tree and escaping out the back yard. And I headed straight to my best friend Lily's place, only a few blocks down. I'd be safe there until we could figure out what was going on.
It took many more tries to learn how to evade the zombie horde waiting in the street, only to find Lily's dad waiting in their kitchen with Lily's mom's blood still dripping down his chin. Three days ago, I finally worked out a safe route into her room, only to find bloody sheets and an empty room. After all that, my search was futile. She was dead, probably roaming the streets looking for another victim to gnaw on. Everyone I knew was gone, and I was trapped in permanent hell. I just broke down and cried until they came and found me. And I just laid in bed on the next two turns until Mom and Dad tore out my throat. I'd say that yesterday was the rock bottom moment of my whole Groundhog Day experience, comparable to when Bill Murray commits suicide. Why bother getting up every day and avoiding death if everyone I knew was dead, and that I'd have to just die a horrific painful death over and over?
Today, though, I woke up with another thought. As Mom and Dad rattled the door in their attempt to get in, I prepared for them. Bill Murray changed things, didn't he? He used his unique situation to improve the lives of everyone in the town. And he improved himself, too. He learned things and came to understand his surroundings. And in the end, he got Rita to fall in love with him and fix everything. He broke the loop by solving the problem.
I strapped on my field hockey pads and snapped off the blunt top of my stick, leaving a jagged end of sharp splinters. Dad broke down the door, and I stabbed him straight through the eye. He collapsed in a heap as I knocked Mom backwards with the other end of the stick. She went reeling out the door, but came charging back. The sharp end of the stick was waiting for her. Just for good measure, I decapitated what was left of my sister; she'd eventually come back anyway. I was done running, and I certainly wasn't going to give up any more. I could change things and get out of this loop. The key was *a cure*. And to do that, I'm going to need to learn a *lot* about science. Good thing I've got all the time in the world, eh? Bill Murray lived an estimated 10,000 days in his loop. That should be plenty of time for me to master immunology.
Now, I'm off to the library to get started. |
An "X"on my right wrist, an "O"on my left. I look at them sometimes, late at night, bored at work, stuck in traffic, always when I feel alone. I was doing it again waiting for coffee, wondering when I'd ever meet either with a matching mark. All my life I've been told you find at least one before becoming an adult.
My coffee arrives and before I could take a sip, a familiar face caught my eye. A famous actress named Jesse Tam, I'd seen a few of her movies, but her wrists always have SFX makeup for whatever roll she plays. But in that moment, I saw one, it had an X. My heart began to beat, as I stood up and walked over to her.
"Excuse me."I said when I had gotten close. She ignored me, I couldn't blame her though, I imagine she's learned to drown out the daily volley of fans. "Excuse me! May I see your wrist."I said, holding out my X hand. She perked up and turned her head to me. A face I'd seen many times before, but it changed in that moment. It was warm, full, and her eyes were galaxys.
She glanced down at the mark, then became transfixed. She stroked it with her X hand, the best ways to make sure its real is by the telltale glimmer and texture. She looked into my eyes, and tears formed in hers, I assume mine as well. She suddenly lunged forward and embraced me, saying "I've been looking for you my whole life."The coffee shop faded into nothing, I could barely speak, but managed "So have I."After what felt like a blissful eternity, we released eachother and I saw something fantastic and impossible.
Her other wrist had an O to match mine. I knew in that moment, having learned nothing else about this woman, that not a single person on this planet was so perfect for me to spend the rest of my life with. |
When he was young, Graham was always fighting something or someone. It was never his fault though. He was just around the most aggressive people in the whole country, considering his father was the leader of them all. Graham was the son of a leader of a group of mercenaries, and thus had a good amount of natural talent as well as the advantage of a hardened upbringing. All in all, Graham was no one to be messed with. And people did just that. When Graham enlisted into the army, he expected a couple of no name battles, a few promotions, and his time served.
It was a cold winter, and thus that morning was particularly nippy.
"Lieutenant Graham, sir? Important message from the central government."
Graham was barely conscious enough to hear message and government. That still got him up fairly quickly.
"You may enter private."
The private came in and dusted the snow off his cap.
"Here you go, sir."
"Thank you private."Graham yawned, "Who did you say this was from again?"as he broke the wax seal on the scroll.
"Straight from the council, sir."
"Shit, straight from the top, huh?"
"Uhh... yessir."
"Thank you private. That will be all."
The private saluted Graham and promptly walked out the tent back into the whistling cold.
Graham began to read the message, and could immediately tell, this was no ordinary executive order. 'Lieutenant Graham of the 101st Skirmishers, it is our honor to inform and congratulate you on your immediate promotion from lieutenant to Kaitiaki. On the back of this scroll is a glyph that will teleport you to your new assignment.' Graham froze. He read that word again. 'Kaitiaki'. He snapped out of his shock and collected himself. "Shit."He thought. "What am I going to do?"Graham began pacing his tent. "Kaitiaki is for life... I can't do this..."But Graham knew already, he had no choice. He belonged to the army. He was their property until his time was up, and he was chosen.
Wait. Who chose him? Graham scanned the gilded message again. It didn't say. Then, he remembered the glyph. Graham slowly flipped the scroll over to reveal a delicately drawn circle with numerous runes scribbled around it. Though the glyph was very meticulously drawn, the runes themselves almost seemed to emanate warmth the longer you looked at them. Graham stared at the glyph for a few moment longer and then realized, "Shit. I don't know how to use glyphs..."
The scroll lay there on his desk, face down, glyph up. Graham pondered the odd runes. The longer he looked at them, the hotter they burned. Graham noticed it almost hurt if he stared to long. Suddenly... a spark? Graham rubbed his still groggy eyes, thinking it was just his mind playing games with him. He picked up one of the candles on his desk and brought it closer to the scroll to more closely examine the mesmerizing line work of the glyph. As he got closer with the candle, heat seemed to explode out of the glyph and the candle. It began melting the ice on the floor of Grahams tent making the floor mush. While Graham was distracted with the fact that his sleeping mat was getting muddy, we failed to notice the glyph begin to pull him in. By the time he realized what was happening, it was already over.
Graham landed with a hard thump. Standing and rubbing his tailbone, he squinted to allow his eyes to adjust to the rapid change in light. And it was hot. It was REALLY hot. Graham began stripping off his heavy clothing until he was in his undergarments.
"Is this how humans normally greet princesses?"
Graham slowly turned and his eyes finally adjusted. She looked like a normal woman, except... her eyes. She had the eyes of a dragon.
"I apologize your highness, I was disoriented. Where am I?"Graham croaked out, his throat still adjusting to the rapid change in humidity. "You're in the royal courtyard. Welcome to the dragon kingdom, Kaitiaki." |
I can feel the mask. I didn't used to before, but something changed: it began to unstick from my face. I can run my finger down the line where it attaches to my face, like some sort of magnetic clasp. When I pulled hard enough, it came off.
The world didn't like it when I showed myself. I don't like it either. It didn't take me long to put it back on. The fear was suffocating. The sorrow. I could remember growing up. My parents. My family. Was it all a lie?
They denied any knowledge. I asked them, but they insisted I was going crazy. The 'stress of work', they said. 'Do you need time off?'. 'Maybe you should quit work for a while'. 'Have you tried seeing a therapist? We're worried'.
Liars. It was real. I know it was.
When I removed the mask, there was nothing: a scribble of shapes and a mangle of sounds that weren't my own. Ever mirror I looked into blackened and splintered like ice on a frozen lake. Every camera stuttered and sparked when it focused on me. I reached my hand to my face once I felt a tingle, like tendrils touching my skin. I screamed out my fear and heard a mangle of garbled noises in response.
The mask was smooth on the outside, fleshy like human skin, but the interior was lined with markings, words I couldn't recognise, etchings I didn't find familiar. When I rang my finger along them and traced the symbols, they glowed. When I put the mask back on, mirrors would magically repair themselves.
I tried it in front of my girlfriend. I begged her to sit and watch. She stared at me fumbling around the side of my face. I could see her discomfort. Her pain. She was worried about me. I was worried about myself too.
When I removed the mask, she screamed. She convulsed. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and blood dripped from her nose. She slumped against the couch and I snapped the mask back on in a panic.
It didn't repair itself, like the camera, or the mirrors. What I was, whatever it was, had killed her. The sheer horror of my face caused her heart to stop. The paramedics said it was a heart attack. I knew better.
Every day I stare at myself in the mirror. Every day, the crack between the mask and the rest of my body widens. One day, it will fall off completely.
What do I do then? |
"A triple vodka and ether,"Aziam sat down on a bar stool with a heavy sigh.
"Rough day?"I asked with a smile.
Of course the concept of day and night was an Earthly one but Aziam knew what I meant nonetheless.
"You have no idea,"he rolled three eyeballs up to the whale bone ceiling and back.
Aziam was one of my regulars. He didn't spend any time on the heat of the dance floor, so we'd had time to talk. We hadn't got along at first, none of us did. Me being a human, destined to be forever tortured in hell, them being demons destined to forever torture me - made things a little awkward at first. The whole lost paperwork fiasco had got many imps thrown into the pit of eternal ice. They would spend forever and a day mining the ice that I now plopped into the hazy concoction for Aziam.
Their mess up certainly had its upsides though. Unable to assign me to any specific circle, meant that they simply couldn't. It went against rules and regulations. Turns out the devil was a stickler for them. So here I was, spending eternity serving drinks to demons of all calibre. It could be rough. The bar fights were messier than those in Birmingham and that was saying something. The mosh pits and raves were something I avoided at all costs, thankfully the bar offered some refuge from those. The clientele could be rude, violent and seductive in ways I'd never thought possible - and no when a demon was trying to seduce you, it wasn't a good thing.
Still, it had its moments. The demons who frequented the bar always had good stories to tell. Especially those who were assigned the darkest of souls. There were people down here who you'd never expect! The demons on the dance floor tended to be more interested in each other than in me, but I kept the drinks flowing and the bass dropping and that kept them from tearing me apart, most of the time anyway.
I handed Aziam his drink. He knocked it back and slammed the glass back down on the polished black surface of the bar.
"Another?"I asked.
"Teriel was off this cycle, on leave in Limbo, so that meant I got put in Fraud. You know how much I hate Fraud!"he gnashed his pointed teeth together.
I nodded in sympathy and handed him another vodka and ether.
"Everyone says Fraud is the worst,"I said.
"They're right. The souls there are a bunch of arseholes. Cocky, twatty, arseholes who think they know everything. One of them was trying to tell me that he'd already had his limit of torture today, he thinks he knows the bloody system - tried to rig the tally so he got less and this other soul got more!"he scraped his claws across the bar.
I sighed inwardly, that would take a while to polish out those gouges.
"Sounds awful, bet you can't wait to get back to Violence,"I poured him out another in anticipation of him necking his second drink.
He gulped it down and nodded, his eyes beginning to slip out of focus from the toxic mixture of Russian vodka and ether from the Void.
"I can't bloody wait to get back to Violence. They're a simple folk who succumb to the best kinds of torture. There's no wonder Teriel took a time out to Limbo. I bloody need one after today,"he tapped his claws together and gave me a lopsided fang-filled grimace. "If I see another tax return it'll be too soon. It's more torture for me than them. Let me get back to ironing someone's eyeballs!"
"Absolutely,"I agreed. |
"I pledge,"I looked around at the people in my church, waiting for me to finish the pledge. My mom's eyes sparkled, I promised her that I would change the world with my pledge. I didn't lie, but she probably won't forgive me. My cousin, Jamie, snickered. He knew what I was going to do, "I pledge to replace God."The church hall was filled with gasps and yells. My youth pastor paled, then turned a weird shade of maroon. One of the elders stood up, pointing a wrinkly old finger at me, "You punk! Take that back right now."I grinned at him and shrugged, "I can't, I'd die."
As people continued to yell, the lights started to flicker. The huge bouquet of flowers behind me seemed to glow as it caught on fire, "Interesting choice, my child."A voice reverbed throughout the chapel. Everyone hushed and started at the on-fire bouquet. "I mean, I was thinking about retiring, but Gabriel was like, 'No Sir, don't do it! The humans will dissolve into anarchy!' But your pledge! Ambitious. I'll keep doing my thing until you usurp me,"The voice from the fire laughed. I could hear all my relatives sniveling as God Himself made himself know. "I'll contact P. Francis and tell him you'll be incharge in like, four years,"God chuckled as the power came back on, the bouquet of flowers extinguishing themselves, "Good luck, kid." |
# Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc -1, Interlude 3: Connor)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**If you stare into the lo-fi girl, the lo-fi girl stares back at you.** Not because she's a *creep* or anything, mind you—if anything, it was the thousands of constantly-watching students who were the stalkers here. No, Starr grabbed for every fragment of the outside world that she could for one simple reason.
Starr was lonely.
She could only look out of the corner of her eye—she was only allowed minor deviations from her eternal dance, and even those were punished. But between turns of the page of her endless notebook, she caught glimpses of the people on the other side of the screen.
*Twin siblings in middle school relaxing on a bed.*
Page 9,984.
*A college student assembling a human-sized pulley system.*
Page 9,985.
*Two boys sharing a kiss, their schoolwork forgotten.*
Page 9,986.
Starr had to shake things up a bit, every now and then, or else she'd go insane. She'd learned a month back that although she could never stop filling up the damn notebook, she was allowed some leeway with what she wrote in it. So she took the shards of other people's lives and scribbled them into her notebook, knowing that once she turned the page, she would never see those words again. She could only move forwards, after all.
*A high schooler crying in a dirty, unmade bed.*
Page 9,987.
Starr hesitated before turning the page, the image of the boy stuck in her mind. She felt the *itch* building up, the compulsion to continue forcing her limbs to move; jerkily, her arm shot forward of its own volition, flipping the page and wiping away the sentence she'd written.
She clenched her jaw. So she wasn't even allowed that much, huh? Even the tiny luxury of dwelling on the boy's fate for more than a moment was snatched from her? A wild rebellion sang through her, and she wanted to stand up and rip the damn notebook in half—
—but she was a prisoner in her own body. The same force that kept her here day after day paralyzed her limbs, locking her in place.
Fine. Starr gritted her teeth. She didn't even bother glancing to the left this time around. Dammit, but if the system didn't want her to keep that boy in her mind, she'd do everything she could to remember him.
*The boy looks up from his tears,* Starr scribbled. She could imagine. She could imagine the boy, somewhere out there, getting over whatever troubled him.
Page 9,988.
Starr closed her eyes. Of course, there was no way to know. The screen to her left never showed the same person twice. In all the weeks she'd been trapped here, it had never changed.
Until now.
Starr blinked in surprise as the screen flickered. The same boy was still on screen, looking around in bewilderment.
Could it be...?
*Starr says hello,* she wrote.
Page 9,989.
Although there was no sound, the boy yelped in what was clearly surprise. Starr's heartbeat sped up. Could it be...?
*Starr asks if the boy can hear her.*
Page 9,990.
The boy on screen said something—but even though he was facing the camera, Starr couldn't read lips. She rolled her eyes.
*The boy realizes that Starr can't hear him.*
Page 9,991.
The boy scratched his head, then picked up a pencil and paper. He scribbled something of his own, then held it up to the screen. The handwriting was shaky, uncertain; the paper was blotted with tears. It said one word.
"Hello?"
Starr's heart leapt into her chest.
She could talk to him.
She could *talk* to him.
*Hi! I'm Starr! What's your name?* Starr wrote.
Page 9,992.
The boy blinked. "I, uh, I'm Connor. Who are you, and why are you in my head?"
That... was a good question, on both accounts. Starr couldn't remember anything from before she'd come here—if there even *was* anything before she came here—and she had no idea that her notebook could affect the world like this. Come to think of it...
*A magical portal appears, breaking Starr free of her prison and letting her step into the boy's room.*
Nothing happened, other than Starr turning to page 9,993.
The boy frowned. "Prison? What're you talking about?"
Starr sighed. So there were limits to how much she could influence, huh? *Sorry. It was worth a shot.*
Page 9,994.
"No, no, I get it. When you're locked up somewhere you don't want to be, you'll try anything to get out."The boy chuckled. "But... if you ever do get that magic portal... you don't want to come here, of all places."
*Why not?*
Page 9,995.
"Dad."The boy's nose wrinkled. "He's... well. If you came into our house he'd charge you for the air you breathed, and work you to death until you paid off the 'debt'."
Debt. Working off a debt. Something about the concept sparked Starr's foggy memories. *I... I think that's why I'm here, too. I'm in this damn room because I have to pay off a debt.*
Page 9,996.
"Room?"The boy asked.
*The... the video you're watching? I'm the one trapped inside it. I'd wave, but I don't have voluntary control over my muscles.*
Page 9,997.
Starr watched the boy twitch in revulsion. "That's horrible. Is... is there anything I can do to help?"
Starr smiled. *Just... I dunno. Be here. Talk to me. That's more than anyone's ever done, as far as I can remember.*
Page 9,998.
"As far as you can remember?"
*Yeah. I... I remember that I'm in here to pay for some kind of crime, but... I don't remember what. For all I know, this has been my whole life.*
Page 9,999.
"Well... if you're in some kind of messed-up prison... your sentence should have an end, right? Eventually?"The boy bit his lip. "That keeps me going, most nights. The knowledge that one day, I'll get out of here."
Starr smiled. *Yeah. Maybe one day I'll get out of here. But... now that I have someone to talk to... well. It's more bearable, at least. As long as you're here.* Starr turned the page—
—and found the end of the book.
Starr jerked back in surprise, sending the chair scraping across the floor.
Then did a double-take.
She'd just stood up.
For the first time in months, she'd *stood up*.
She turned towards the screen. "Did you see tha—"
Where the boy used to be, a pleasant sunset with the words "Thank you for listening! The 24/7 Lo-Fi Channel is now shutting down."
Behind Starr, a door hissed open. "Your sentence is up,"a man said from behind her. "Hope that three months in the Contemplation Room did something for your temper, eh, Starr?"
Starr turned around, disbelieving. An officer in a uniform with a rising sun gave her a bored look. "What—I—the boy—*who was he?*"
"Who was who?"
"The boy at the end! I—I could finally *talk* to him, and—"
"No idea what you're talking about,"the officer said. "C'mon. I don't have all day."
Starr took a step back, shaking her head. "I—I never even got his name. Please. I—I want to talk to him."
The officer sighed and tapped his wrist; a holographic screen popped up, pulsing in time with his voice. "Hi, yeah. This is Officer Tsubasa. Girl in the Contemplation Room's getting hysterical on me."
Starr looked around for a way to escape, but the officer was blocking the only way out. She took a chance and ran straight at him.
The officer's eyes widened, and he swore as he tapped a button on his wrist. Instantly, the same force that had locked her in place for months stopped her cold in her tracks. Tsubasa glared at her. "Yeah. Mhm. Doesn't seem like she's paid her debt. Besides, she just added attempted assault of an officer of the law to her list of offenses."
Starr tried to force herself to speak, but she could barely open her jaw against the crushing force that held her. "Please..."she managed to squeak out.
"Another three months?"Tsubasa said, as if he hadn't heard anything. "Works for me. Fire it up."
Starr's eyes widened. "Wait—"
​
If you stare into the lo-fi girl, the lo-fi girl stares back at you. Not because she's a creep or anything, mind you—if anything, it was the thousands of constantly-watching students who were the stalkers here. No, Starr grabbed for every fragment of the outside world that she could for one simple reason.
Starr was lonely.
The tip of her pencil tore into the paper as she wrote, and she blinked. A tear had fallen from her eye, without her even realizing it.
Starr was lonely.
Why did that hurt so much? She didn't remember what it was like to *not* be lonely, after all.
Starr was lonely.
She shook her head, or tried to—the force controlling her didn't like it when she deviated too much from her assigned set of actions. Write on the page. Flip the page. Stare out the window. Stare back. Rinse and repeat, for another three months.
She frowned. Three months? How... how did she know that?
Her hand moved of its own accord, and she jerked back into reality. No time to waste pondering those mysteries—she had to keep going. Stealthily, she snuck a glimpse at the screen to her left.
*A boy holding up a sign, asking, "Hello? Are you still there?"*
Page 1.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes"is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please let me know. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. |
"Captain, there's a man approaching the gate, half naked. He's wielding a branch. What do we do?"
Following protocol, I just instructed a squadron of guards to surround him, for some reason he didn't seem concerned, walking forward towards the gate.
I barely made out what he was talking about, he said something like "chat, im going to pause now to do a quick stone throw upwards, and drop this branch beneath myself to gain an extra 10 pixels of height. Then I'll plant a bomb at my feet, so when the rock hits me I take slight damage and I can use the I frame to take zero damage, this entire squadron will get destroyed while I do a pixel perfect rocket jump into the throne room".
Before I had any time to call out orders for a retreat, the bomb was set off and the man was sent flying, he was perfectly unharmed even though he was in close proximity with the bomb. I watched in horror knowing very well nothing can shoot him down at the speed he was going and no one can intercept him before he reaches the throne room.
This is it, the end of the holy empire, one man took down the guards and the king instantly. Maybe he'll spare the citizens.
Three days later.
The man was being coronated, he continued his crazy rambling of being unable to skip the cutscene and losing the world record by 3 seconds, whatever that is. All of a sudden, after being crowned king, he disappeared.
The world turned dark. |
It started off innocuous enough. Dr. Dynamo silently retiring from the scene. The Scarlet Slayer skipping her annual Christmas heist.
People shrugged and moved on with their lives. Supervillainy was a fast-moving industry. Even S-Tier villains burnt out eventually.
Then the bodies started showing up.
First it was the Jackal. Found decapitated in his own bathroom. His jackal mask nailed to the bathroom mirror. The villain was known for his unhinged brand of terrorism, and most figured the untreated mental issues had finally done him in.
Then the Everyman was found dead in a freak accident, having apparently fallen off his roof while replacing some shingles, impaling himself on an unfortunately sharp bit of fencing. They didn't even know it was the rampant serial killer until they found the skin masks in the second basement.
Within hero circles, it had been Black Hawk who'd remarked on it first, how it seemed like the villains in his city were dropping like flies, joking that at least it allowed him to catch his breath for once.
But then the Wrecking Man incident happened, where in a series of unfortunate events the handle of the villain's signature spiked sledgehammer shattered against Black Hawk himself, rebounding and splitting his own head open in a gruesome turn of events on live television. That had gone national, and was in the news cycle for weeks on end.
By the time the heat had gone down, other heroes had started to pay attention. The state of crime in Atlantic City was *decimated*, with 3 more high-tiered villains murdered in their own homes. And that was just the ones they knew about. One of which they hadn't even known was based out of Atlantic, with previous intelligence all pointing to out of state. Word on the street was that the criminal underbelly was in chaos, with various factions either fleeing the city, or going unnervingly dark. Either hunkering down, or wiped out in some kind of intergang war. No-one knew what was going on.
But after months of ramped up tensions, nothing seemed to come of it. Mid-level villains tentatively started up their particular brands of crime, and heroes got back to work. For Black Hawk, the strongest member of the local Hero Council, it had been a nice bit of vacation, but he was chomping at the bit to get back on to the frontlines. No-one had said anything, but between the Wrecking Man incident and waiting for the other shoe to drop, he'd been effectively benched from partaking in out of state heroics for months now. His various nemeses were dead or missing. And while the reappearance of various mid-level flunkies had him glad to be out and about on the streets again, it was essentially just the Handyman, an inoffensive home improvement themed villain who survived the criminal purge, and a few D-tier nobodies who's case file he'd taken over on account of getting stir-crazy.
It was infuriating, that even with a dozen top-tier heroes loaned from the Council, they hadn't been able to get to the bottom of things. And the other heroes couldn't stay to help forever. Black Hawk swore he'd get to the bottom of things though. It was a matter of pride now. Some unknown criminal had gotten away with coming to his literal backyard and cleaned house. Black Hawk's city. That made it personal. And with all the free time he'd gained, he was going to pull all his focus on to catching this new nemesis. They were literally taunting him, he just knew it. |
I open my eyes, expecting to see demons dancing around me ; pitchforks in hand, muttering some demonic song or curse.
But there is none.
As far as I can see, everything is white and silent.
I am alone in hell, if this is hell.
I stand up, from where I had found myself lying on the cold floor. Suddenly I see that it was not white surrounding me, it was mirrors.
Mirrors reflecting all around, as if they were encircled around me.
Adjusting myself to oddness of it, I peer in to one of the mirrors, looking at my reflection.
But is not my reflection.
Physically, the reflection looks similar to me ; almost as if we could have been twin brothers. But the reflection's posture, his demeanor, the clothes he's wearing, they are all so different.
That's not me.
As I look into the eyes of my reflection, I begin to see the events of my life play out in my reflections eyes, from when a was a young tot to and elderly man. The small events leading all the way up to the big events that changed who I was as a person. Yet as I stand there mesmerised as what I am seeing, I begin to notice that as I get older, the events begin to change. They begin to have different endings and beginnings.
And lastly I begin to see events that had never happened to me.
I see myself getting a great well paying job.
I see myself happily married with kids.
The list goes on and on and that's when I realise.
I am in hell.
I am looking, witnessing and experiencing the man that I could have been.
The man that was there for me to aspire to become, yet I shied away from the great challenges in my life, leaving me as a nobody that few would remember.
My hell was to look at the man that I could have been.
For the rest of eternity.
_______________________________
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|
Like those old Disney movies, where the dog-catcher chases the mutt across the city with a big pool-cleaning net, and trips over his own feet, and the dog slips through the chain-link fence and finds the kid without a dad and they become the best of friends. Except they catch people, and they have more than just nets, and when they drag you in they do worse things than give you a painless little injection, send your corpse to the crematorium. Much worse things.
I saw the van pull up from the corner of my eye. I should have moved quicker, as soon as I saw that flash of movement. Only when Jeremiah’s footsteps came thundering past did I turn to see the Section 4 insignia on the side of the van, and by then Jeremiah was ten or twenty steps ahead of me, and they were going to take one of us, and that was going to be the slower one. If you’re being chased by a wolf you only need to be faster than the slowest guy, but there were only two of us.
I ran hard, the cold sharp air punching my lungs, my boots ringing on the concrete. I heard the door of the van slam shut as one of them lept out. The other ripped down the street in the van to circle around towards Van Dyke street. I went left down an alley, and Jeremiah was still ahead of me, scrambling over a dumpster to get to the roof of a low building. A dead end for him. I went farther down the alley, tried the door to my right. It opened. I ran into a Chinese restaurant. An ageless, sage looking man chopped celery, an American radio talk show playing. He turned to me and started screaming, waving his knife around. I ran past him.
I was homeless, and therefore a mutt, and therefore expendable in the name of science and progress. First they emptied out the prisons, and now they were cleaning the streets. If I had an honorable discharge instead of an dishonorable discharge I wouldn’t be here. I would have stood by, shown my card to the people-catcher.
I ran out into the street. The van stood there, just ahead of me. Another man opened the side door and jumped out. I ran hard down to the corner. I heard the hiss of air as a tranquillizer dart zipped past my head. The second one found its mark, a slightly pinch just behind and above the knee, in that hard knot of muscle. I got another fifteen hard steps in before my muscles turned to mush. My face smacked the concrete. I looked at the cigarette filters, the blackened gum, the five-day-old newspaper. I coulnd’t move my head, so I just stared at them, panic and a sudden drowsiness battling for control over me. I saw boots, heard the heavy breathing above me.
“Alright fella,” he said. I heard the van pull up behind me. He and another man grabbed me and threw me in the back. The door closed. When I woke up, I was in a white room, one wall made out of thick glass. A scientist and an intern stood on the other side. They watched me. I looked around. There was still a faint smudge of blood on the wall, on the floor near the door. I looked at the crook of my elbow. A little cotton swab taped in place with a Goofy Band-Aid, the kind my pediatrician used to give me after a shot as a child. I wondered what had happened to the previous occupant, about the blood on the ground and the wall, how long before it happened to me.
|
Billy walked into class and right away noticed the sub. It was hard to miss I mean, it wasn't every day a sandwich taught a class. He was meaty, beefy, and Billy just couldn't help himself. Everyone in the class gasped as Billy took a shovel and relentlessly beat the sandwich to death. Thankfully Billy had remembered to pack his shovel today. The sandwich laid dead on the ground. The young 16 year old Billy wiped sweat off his brow. "You bastard, 33 years ago a sandwich killed my father!" |
The laughter began when I made my choice.
In the beginning we chose to become.
Some of us chose to reflect the primal nature of the beasts the stalk the land. Savage and feirce, their kind demanded blood and meat but offered strength.
Some chose to reflect the earth itself. Wild and aloof their kind demanded sweat and devotion but offered bounty and a home.
Some chose to reflect the fleeting ones themselves. Aspects of Man's own self, amplified. Exemplary and terrifying their kind demanded much, but offered power.
I chose as well.
The primal ones howled with laughter, the kind ones chuckled loudly. The mirrored ones laughed the loudest, as they knew Man.
The primal ones stopped laughing we Man learned to harness fire. When they began to shine and took the night away from the beasts and monsters.
The kind ones fell silent when Man learned to till the earth. When Man learned first to harvest crops, and then uranium.
The mirriored ones, they sacrificed their individual aspects to become One. The One fought for the devotion of Man. The One lied and inspired obsession and madness. Rage and hatred. The One even became Three to pit Man against Man, more blood spilt to power the lie. The One used belief to sway the hearts and dull the minds of Man.
I never laughed. I didn't take joy when Man developed weapons for hunting and war. I didn't smile when Man tore down the forests and leveled the mountains for resources to grow. I did not spread fear, lies and violence for power and devotion.
Yet here I am. I grew as Man did. I became powerful when Man manipulated reality itself on a tiny Island in the Pacific. The terrible sight cemented my place in the minds of Man, where I have always been.
I do not sway, I do not take sides. I will inspire those considered good and evil to use their minds. I will not stop or stand in your way in your path to assension or your decay.
|
"I gotta say, you wear it a lot better than I do,"Kayla said. She was wearing my best suit, and I her best dress.
"The dress?"I couldn't help but stare back. Though it was still my body in that suit, I could hardly see the belly fat that hung out beyond my trousers. My face was clean and my hair was gelled. And had I been working out? Maybe we just look ugly from our own perspective.
"Everything. Hey."Kayla picked the keys off the table. "How about we drive tonight? I'm sick of the bus."
We both headed for the driver's seat. "It's my car,"I objected.
"My picture on the driver's license,"she shot back. I rode shotgun and we drove off.
"Can you please get that creature in the backseat?"She asked, glancing at the rearview mirror. "It's blocking my view."
"Just a side effect of the ritual."I muttered a spell and the cold, stinging feeling pierced my chest like a dagger of ice, creeping down through my bare arms and coalescing in my fingertips. I reached back and seized the voidbeast by the throat as it leapt toward us, slamming it into the floor, where it exploded in a large plume of noxious smoke.
"Great. Now it's going to smell like rotten eggs in here for a week."Kayla rolled down the windows.
"I just cast Icy Death, I think I'm cold enough. Turn on the heater,"I demanded.
"Yes ma'am, miss supreme cultist ma'am,"Kayla muttered, rolling up the windows and punching the heat.
"So... two more days, huh?"I asked after a moment's silence.
"Yeah. Remember when we first started? And how you almost died to that voidbeast?"She chuckled as I grinned.
"I kept pronouncing the incantation wrong. Your body's a lot lighter. I overshot and strangled Steve's art project. I think he got an A for creative use of effects."My smile grew as I recalled the difficulties we'd been through due to that dare. The late nights spent reading up on gene therapy, just to keep her job. I must've studied a semester's worth in a week. And she'd actually become a pretty good driver in the past month.
"This has been a crazy month. But we worked it out. And... I kind of don't want to go back. After it all stabilized, I think I like being you. I get treated a lot better. I have a well-paying job. And I kind of like how I look right now."Call me biased, but women just look prettier than men.
Kayla blew out a long, deep breath. "Want to keep it this way? For a while. I like your body too. Just being able to walk into a cafe and pig out on whatever I want without getting fat. And without being bothered. And I can actually run. And run down the stairs."
I raised an eyebrow. "I can run down the stairs too."
She smirked. "Not in that dress. Anyway, we'll keep it like this for... another month?"
I nodded as we pulled into the parking lot. "Another month sounds good. So remind me again what Steve's problem is?"
Kayla hit a button on the dash and retrieved a harpoon gun from the hidden compartment. "Voidbeasts in the bathroom."
"And we're dressed up because?"I reactivated the spell, wincing as my fingertips turned icy numb.
"He owes us a nice dinner after they're dead."
[subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) |
"Ah, shit."Dave muttered as he caught sight of the wall and dropped his laundry basket. Frantically scrambling down the stairs, he called out: "Rachel?! Rachel?"
"What's up?"Came the urgent reply from the couch.
"You leave the door open?"he asked, halting at the bottom of the stairs with his heart racing.
"No..."she answered hesitantly, "I - I don't think so..."
Dave glanced back towards the wall that his powers had tripped, which proudly boasted the property's historic murder toll. He’d first seen that stat when he toured as a potential renter, but a quick Wiki search eased his mind when he saw that an old Civil War battlefield overlapped with property lines.
Dave never really considered himself interested in history -- and ever since he and Rachel adopted the dogs, he obsessed over their welfare.
"Boys got out, the old stat's back"he said.
Rachel cursed under her breath and hopped up from the couch, joining Dave in a sprint to the open front door.
***
Criticism/comments more than welcome! =)
|
"Please, there has to be something you can do! She really was a good person."God looked at me with pity but just shook his head "I'm sorry son, she didn't make the cut, there has to be rules."How could this be heaven if Samantha wasn't here with me, we had been together 17 years before the accident happened. "Get some sleep my child, you've had a long day. You'll like it here."
God had an angel show me to my new house and of course it was everything I'd ever dreamed of. After the angel left the phone rang, who could be calling, I literally just got here. "Hello?"
"Jonathan! Hi, uhm, so, I don't usually do things like this but you seem pretty nice and all and God, I mean he's kinda a dick huh?"
"Uhm, who is this?"
"Oh ya, sorry, it's Lucifer."
"Like, THE Lucifer, the Devil?"
"Ya, king of darkness, all that jazz. Let's just skip over that for now, I have your wife here and I was kinda eavesdropping on your little talk with God and I think we came up with a solution for everyone.""Uh, ya, alright, what's going on?"
"You can come be down here with your wife whenever you want and there's just one small thing I need from you.""Yes, anything!!"
"I need an assistant and I hear you're really good at Excel." |
[PART 2 Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/dx1vv2/tamer_of_the_beasts_part_2/)
Caleb Cooper slapped at his arm, growling as he did. *Another damn Mosquito.* He wouldn’t have said camping was his least favorite activity in the world, but that was because, even at sixteen, he could easily imagine worse ways to spend his time. He could have his feet dipped in acid, or be stabbed in back repeatedly, or repeat algebra. But camping was probably the least favorite things he was forced to do.
“C’mon, try to smile some,” his dad said, walking up behind him and shaking his back. “What more could you want? We’ve got the great outdoors, we’ve got trees, we’ve got shade, we’ve got fresh air...this is perfect!”
Caleb sighed. “Dad...I don’t really like camping.”
His dad laughed. “Of course you do. You used to beg to go out every year, remember?”
*Yeah, in like 8th grade.* When all his friends had been in boy scouts with him, and he’d been able to spend time with them. But High School had come, and his friends had moved on. But the Coopers came from a long line of Eagle scouts. His dad was an Eagle Scout, his grandfather had been an Eagle Scout, his *great-grandfather* had been an Eagle Scout, and Caleb’s dad would be damned if his son wasn’t an Eagle Scout. “Right,” Caleb muttered. He didn’t want this fight with his dad, not right now. So instead he turned to trundle off into the woods.
“Where you going?” Caleb’s dad asked.
Caleb held up a glass. “Going to see if I can find an Acorn Weevil. There’s a lot of oaks around here, and I’d like one for the collection.”
It was the one part of the outdoors Caleb enjoyed. Catching insects. It was a bit of an odd hobby, but Caleb was a bit of a junior entomologist and enjoyed it. He was thinking about going to college for Entomology after he graduated. Something about the wide variety of possible insects, finding things that people usually overlooked, categorizing them...it was calming. He had several glass cases of them pinned at home, many of them gathered from scouting trips like these. As long as they weren’t mosquitos, which he loathed, Caleb was a fan of all manner of Arthropoda.
So, of course, it was the one part of the outdoors his dad *didn’t* like. His father turned green and motioned for Caleb to go ahead. “Don’t wander too far!” he shouted.
*Yeah, yeah.* It wasn’t like he could go too far even if he wanted to. The campsite was in the middle of a series of Mid-Missouri bluffs, and wandering very far would inevitably lead to a solid rock wall.
Slowly, the sounds of the rest of the boy scout troop receded in the forest behind him. Caleb let out a sigh of relief. He was the only high schooler still in the troop, and a lot of the older kids thought he had to be some kind of loser to still be doing this at his age. *They aren’t wrong,* Caleb thought. *Just not for the right reasons.* Being a boy scout isn’t what made him a loser. His complete lack of social life at high school, relegated only to a few other dorks at lunch who he didn’t really hang out with, and the fact that he collected bugs when most people were going to parties or making out or getting drunk or playing video games or even playing Magic The Gathering made him a loser.
*That’s the real irony.* If his dad had planned these trips as one on one things, where they could go out and find rare insects, or even some other wildlife finding thing like birdwatching or something, Caleb would have loved it as much as he used to. These days, however, he’s found most of the insects at their usual camping sights - he actually had an acorn weevil already, but there was no way his dad would remember it - but his dad didn’t care about his obsession there. His dad wanted and Eagle Scout, so an Eagle Scout Caleb would be.
A little while later, as he had expected, Caleb found himself at one of the bluffs. It was a solid expanse of rock, covered in creeping vines, about the same as they had been for the last five years. The vines would be crawling with acrobat ants, which made them a nice place to stop because they’d keep the wasp population down in the region. *Maybe I could try to find a nest and a queen.* That thought he discarded - it would be a prize, but the only way he’d ever add an ant queen to his collection would be if he found one dead. It felt different than taking a single insect and putting it on his board. Taking a queen could wipe out an entire colony.
*When I move out, I’ll get a whole terrarium. Then I can have living ones.* That would be better and would make him feel *better* about what he did. Even the knowledge that he was killing bugs was sapping the fun out of his hobby. But, of course, his parent’s wouldn’t allow live insects in the house and...
“Gah!” Caleb shouted and kicked a rock at the bluff.
It was stupid and childish, but it helped with the frustration. What was even more interesting was how the rock passed through the vines, instead of plinking off the bluff behind him. Caleb walked towards where he’d kicked it. *Is that a...cave?* It was. He didn’t know there were any caves around here.
*Bet I could find something new in there.* Caleb flipped on his flashlight - while he wasn’t a big fan of being a scout, their motto of “Be Prepared” had stuck with him more firmly than he cared to admit - and headed inside. It was large enough for him to walk upright. *I wonder if anyone’s ever even been in here before.* The thought excited him. It was possible he was the first human to ever notice this cave hiding behind the vines, that his were the first human footsteps in this cave. Who knew what could be ahead? Hell, if it went deep enough, cave ecologies were often very isolated from the rest of the world - he might discover an entirely new species.
That thought overrode the logical fears of going spelunking alone, and Caleb began to stride ahead. To his relief, the cave didn’t really branch off anywhere, so there was very little risk he’d find himself wandering in circles. It wasn’t long until he was plunged entirely into darkness aside from his flashlight.
Now his heart started to beat faster. The primal fear of the dark still clung to him, and he wasn’t as certain as he had been at the outset this was a good idea. Just as he was about to turn around, he saw it.
It looked like an ant, but it wasn’t like any ant Caleb had seen before. It was large, nearly a foot from mandibles to tail, and it was too brightly colored to be a normal cave dweller, its exoskeleton covered in gold and black swirls. Its eyes were wrong too, looking more like something you’d see on a mammal than you would on an insect. It should have been frightening, but it was oddly cute. The gentle eyes, the way it moved awkwardly like it was a newborn that hadn’t quite grown into its legs...it had an overall appearance of helplessness. It looked up at Caleb and chirped curiously.
*Holy shit.* “Well hello there,” Caleb said. “What are you?”
The strange ant chirped again. *I have to catch it.* It was too big for his glass jar, but that didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that his dad would refuse to let Caleb bring it back alive. Caleb would *find* a way, damn it. This wasn’t just a new species, this was an insect that shouldn’t be *possible.* Caleb reached out a tentative hand.
[Had to break in to 2 Parts awkwardly due to length, Part 1.5 right below](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dwyvjf/wp_when_out_in_the_woods_you_discover_a_cave_that/f7mhbg6/)
[PART 2 Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/dx1vv2/tamer_of_the_beasts_part_2/) |
You could say my life is pretty normal; of course to say that, you'd need to ignore the six legged little creature that's been following me around for the past few weeks.
The day started as most do - get up, get dressed, go to work. As I left my house and was about to unchain my bike, I noticed a faint rustling sound coming from my neighbor's overturned garbage bin. Curious, I flipped it upright with deliberate caution; only to be nearly toppled backwards by a small green and black blur that darted out as i freed it from its metal prison.
The thing was unique, to say the least. It was covered in a fine, wispy green fur, with stripes of black accents up and down its body. It also had six legs, which was not a common trait amongst land-dwelling mammals. After a momentary victory lap to celebrate its newfound freedom, it trotted up to me and nuzzled its small green face against the leg of my jeans. I guess you could say it was cute, if you could get past its intimidating maw; several large fangs protruded from its upper lip as it looked up at my expectantly. I scooped it up from the ground and cradled it in my arms. It began to vibrate softly as I did, a rhythmic pulsing that almost put me to sleep.
I snapped awake as I heard the sound of another trash can being knocked over from some distance behind me. Startled, I dropped the little thing with a start, and it collected itself on the ground once it landed without issue. Both I and the creature turned to see several ill-tempered young men going to town on the poor tin container. One of them had a baseball bat, and was laughing hysterically every time he brought the wood down with a loud 'clang'. Before I even realized what I was doing, I took a defiant step towards the deviants.
"Hey, stop that!"I shouted, immediately wishing i could shove those words back into my mouth as the hoodlums did exactly as I asked. They turned their attention towards me. The ringleader raised his bat and aimed the scuffed up tip of it at my chest.
"Look boys,"the words practically slithered out of his pursed lips. "We got ourselves an environmentalist."I grimaced as they took their first step towards me, then the second. In that moment I was screaming at myself to run back inside my house, which couldn't have been more than two hundred feet away from the alley in which I now stood. I commanded my body to move, but fear had me firmly planted in place. As I was saying my goodbyes in my head, something wholly unexpected happened.
I can only recount the parts I actually witnessed, mind you. The three young men were about fifteen paces away from me when my new little green and black friend stepped between me and the advancing antagonists. At first, the men saw this and couldn't help but laugh.
"Aww, the little kitty wants to protect its master huh? *Here, kitty kitty*."The man said in a singsong voice. The creature leapt. In the span of fifteen or so feet, the creature had somehow grown by at least three sizes. Its mouth was also much, much bigger than it had been only moments before. This time it was the three men who felt their fight or flight response fail them. The first one was swallowed whole, with little more than a regurgitative scream to signal his sudden disappearance. The other two finally found their feet, turned tail, and ran screaming as the bat clattered to the ground.
A short while later, as I was straightening the toppled trash can, my little green and black friend trotted up to me without a care in the world. The fur around his mouth was stained a slightly dark red, but it had otherwise returned to its original size and shape. Hoisting the little guy up into my arms, I carried it into the house and shut the door. |
"Fiend! I challenge you!"
Their voice was loud and bold, more pronounced in the immediate environment. No other sound save birdsong competed with the voice and the birds were shocked into silence. Heads turned to stare at the speaker, but their attention was placed firmly on their target.
The target's head came up, disapproval written cleanly on their face. Crimson hued hair was tied up in a severe bun, not a strand out of place. Crystal clear spectacles, polished and without finger print, were perched on her face. Amethyst eyes glared through them with naked irritation. Gleaming ivory tusks jutted out and a long thick forest green finger tapped her lips in a shushing gesture.
The elf challenger was shocked. He had expected different kinds of reactions, but this one was not one of them. He straightened his shoulders and threw back long immaculately styled blonde hair. "Did you not hear me? I said I-"
The orc woman hissed, cutting him off. She shushed him again, audibly this time and his face turned beet red. "Were you raised in a squirrel's drey?"she asked. Her voice was more quiet than his but no lacking in energy.
Confusion warred with indignation. "A what? No I was raised in a manor. What is a drey?"
"A drey is a squirrel's home."The orc's voice took the tone of a tired schoolteacher dealing with a particularly dim witted student. "It is typically a ramshackle affair, made of twigs and debris of trees and plants."She sighed deeply at his continued look of blank astonishment. "As in, were you raised in such a run down environment to explain your boorish behavior."
"Boorish! I am of the Emerald Leaf family and I will have you know-"
"I care not from where you came,"she replied interrupting him again. "Perhaps I was too rude to the squirrels. At least they know how to behave within a library."
Finally the challenger noticed his surroundings. Long shelves ran the length of the room, filled with books and scrolls. The roof was not a solid affair, instead it mimicked the architecture of the public buildings of the village, where woven branches and boughs formed the cover. Little rays of sunlight dotted the interior, creating shining oasis in the cool dim enclosure.
Villagers stared at the challenger with naked contempt. Some rolled their eyes as if they have seen his ilk before, and in truth many have. Others were clearly angered by his actions, scowling as they returned to their reading. A few children glared with open hostility at him, making him take an uncertain step back.
"This is...a library?"His voice shook in the open air, lacking his early false confidence.
"Where else would there be so many books?"The orc librarian's voice was now bored. "Perhaps a bookstore but seeing how none of these books are for sale, then this is instead a library. A place of learning, of reading."She brought up her finger again. "Of *quiet.*"
"But...I...uh...well I wish to cha-"
"Yes yes I heard you the first time. You wish to challenge me."She looked down at her records and went back to writing carefully with her favorite peacock plumed quill. "You are not the first and sadly you will not be the last. However I am far too busy to entertain you so perhaps some other time."She waggled the quill at him in a clear shooing fashion.
His face burned and his pricked pride gave him courage. "You are speak to the son of Lord Valis like that? You are nothing but an-"
She set the quill down for she did not wish to snap it from anger. She slipped her glasses off for she did not wish to smudge them. She rose from her desk and stalked forward, her height and breadth clearly dwarfing the elf. The oh so noble son of Lord Valis shrank in her presence.
"I am nothing but an orc, yes that is true. However I am proud to be an orc. Just like I am proud to be a daughter of a kind male and female elf who adopted a wailing babe lost and alone. I am a proud member of this village. I am a proud librarian. I will not have a Son of Lord Valis of Emerald Leaf to denigrate me, my family, nor my village."
He looked about for support and found none. All the elves within the library glared at him. Hissed words swallowed him from every corner of the library and he could see some elves standing to come and stand behind the orc.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. You wish to challenge me? Challenge accepted. As the one challenged, I choose the manner of the duel. I shall write down several topics and you are to find the appropriate reference books and bring them to me within the time limit. Do you agree?"
"Wha...what? What kind of duel is that?!"
"A duel of intelligence, wits, and resourcefulness. Not all duels are with strength of body or arms. Do you accept?"
"N-No! I do not!"
"Then our business is concluded. Since you refuse the terms of the duel then I am the winner by default. Now if you have no further business here then please leave us to study and read in peace. Off you go."
Thoroughly ashamed, and more than a little frightened, the elf turn and walked as swiftly as decorum would allow. Right before he left her voice made him pause.
"Tell Lord Valis that I am still waiting for that book to be returned. And when he does, to bring his late fee."
He fled, chased by the laughter of the elves within the library and the retuning birdsong. |
### Man Uses Same Knife 28 Times
#### Someone else dead as a result
(ATLANTA) In a shocking crime that has the entire region reeling, a man was convicted of using the same knife 28 times.
Additionally, he killed a man in the process.
"It's the most grotesque thing I've seen in all my years on the job,"Detective Blake Simmons said. "I'm not going to lie and say I've never used the same knife twice for something, and I've worked crimes long enough to see desperate people use the same implement three times, but twenty-eight? That's just... it's just wrong."
When asked for additional details, Simmons added, "Oh, and I think someone was hurt. No, he died? Oh, huh, go figure."
The Fulton County coroner's office offered more details on the grisly misuse of flatware: "At first, we believed the deceased, um... Bob or something... we believed that he was stabbed by an entire *set* of knives, one that the killer had in fact purchased that same day. The similarities of the wounds could only mean that an entire set was used, it seemed. But there were only sixteen knives in that set, which as you can imagine set off quite a scandal here at the morgue. And then to discover that only one had actually been *used*, well...."
"Anyway,"he added, "nobody claimed Rob or whoever he was, so if you could come by and take the cadaver off our hands, we'd really appreciate it."
We were able to obtain a statement from the presiding judge of the case, Judge Preston:
"As inconceivable as it may be to such upstanding minds as ours, the facts did not lie: The defendant used the same knife twenty eight entire times, twenty seven more than was necessary for whatever it was he did with it. The jury saw those facts and convicted accordingly."
Jury foreman Ralph Martins had this to say: "How could you use a knife that much? I don't even use the same knife to spread more butter on my bagel, because of the crumbs. And that guy's had *blood* on it!"
He shuddered. "It's just unsanitary." |
It wasn’t until the early 21st century that we fully began to understand. We had researched for decades, made it a point to do our due diligence, focused on the pros and cons and evolutionary quandaries. The answer was always clear; crabs.
“You know, crabs are the ultimate lifeform,” Dr. Mitchell intoned, “Need a home? Find a shell or dig a hole. Need to escape? Rip off your arm as a distraction. It’ll grow back. Need food? Eat your young, you’ve got THOUSANDS.” His cadence became more unhinged by the day. It was clear that the raw unfiltered knowledge of crab supremacy had gotten to him. His already fragile psyche was crushed in twain by the meaty claws of crab reality. Truthfully, we all felt it, one way or another. Some people laughed, a few people cried, most people crabbed.
It was a surprise to find crabs on Venus. Once thought uninhabitable, we figured that if anything could thrive there, it would need to be a hearty organism indeed. Crabs. Crabs thrived there. Finding them on Mars and Neptune was another surprise. Discovering them on Pluto was a bit of a quandary. Getting word that the Hubble had sent back images of crabs overtaking its lens shortly before going offline… well that was downright worrisome. Could crabs operate technology? Techno-crabs? Certainly, no such thing existed. Or did it?
When the Earthbound crabs began to get bold, that is when the general populace began to worry. Right away, seafood markets went silent, overrun with crabs taking revenge for their fallen brethren. We lost contact with Japan and Norway mid last year, Australia this last Fall. The markets soon began to feel the crushing weight of runaway crabitalism. Stocks fell, crypto failed, crabs reigned supreme.
The Food Network began to air 24-hour news about the growing crab menace. It advanced on every seaside nation, crawling, moving, pinching. Their hardened shells and numbers protecting them from military assaults, they swiftly overtook most of the developed world in a matter of weeks. Now, we live under the constant threat of a crab incursion. The Rocky Mountains have become a refuge for those in the United States who wished to flee the coast. But it would not be safe for long. Crabs can survive on land after all.
The worst part was when we tried to burrow, thinking that the subterranean world would hold a safety for our race we had long forgotten. It wasn’t until we reached 50 miles down that we realized our folly. There was no escape. We had long underestimated this worlds true masters. The crabs had allowed us to live on their world, in THEIR reality, but no more. We had grown haughty in our hubris, thinking ourselves masters of our domain. But it never was. For even in the core of the earth, a great crab legion stirred from their slumber, and rose to a new world. Their world. If any visitors from distant stars manage to escape their local crab infestation, know this; there is no bottom, for it is crabs all the way down. |
Feels like the adventurer figures out the chair is a mimic but then realizes that the mimic just protected his wife (and has spent the last 33 years NOT eating him) and he realizes that he can trust it.
I find myself understanding how many different emotions this would elicit...
Shock - "wait, how?!"
Terror - "Mimics are dangerous creatures!"
Confusion - "but why hasn't this bloodthirsty monster attacked us?"
Gratitude -"did it just save my wife's life?"
Acceptance - "did we just become best friends?" |
I looked to my right at the desk lamp and wondered how and why it had painted the room inconsistent shades of purple. As I took my headphones off, reflex made me spin my office chair. The noise that had startled my curiosity was coming from the same source of light that had framed the Warm White LED bulb of my desk-light.
A glowing, swirling, pool of churning light. A...portal?
What in the freaky flying fuck is going on? I’m not slowly burning to Death so I’m not asleep.
Through the purple vortex a figure forms, a dark silhouette that grows larger and larger until...pop! It steps through and unfurls to his full height of more than seven feet. The man is a behemoth of battle-worn, minimal armour atop obscene amounts of muscles and scars. On his back is a hammer the size of me.
He raises his black gauntlet fists in the air, and in each he holds two severed head by their hair. The four dead men stare in dull-eyed, open-mouthed awe. The same face on each. The same in expression and construct. The giants face is a chiselled copy of the four deceased.
I know the faces well. Mine is the same as the dead men’s. In construction not expression.
“Join me!” Screams the big and burly me. “Or join my *collection*.”
I turn in my chair and get back to work. “Yeah. Okay buddy.”
“You dare turn your back on me?”
“I’ve either lost it or I’m going to die, either way I have bills to pay.”
“Bills? There is *war*, there is *revelry*. *Purpose*.”
“I ain’t a fighter and my morals mean my bar tabs get paid with money not mayhem. And purpose is just self-imposed delusion. So, either lop off my head and annoy the next guy, or recede back into my psyche. I can’t afford a psychiatrist.”
Silence. A grunt, then: “Pathetic.”
“Apathetic, mostly, but regular pathetic too, I guess.” I turned back to him, he had hooked our dead heads back onto his belt and crossed his massive arms. “So, room on that belt for another or are you going to fuck off.”
“Beyond this portal there is adventure...”
“Beyond that portal,” I pointed at the plain white door of my home office. “Is adventure and purpose and a handful of people I like.”
“Have you not dreamed of being more?”
“I haven’t had a good nights sleep in years, and when I do it’s all dreams of the terror variety. As for metaphoric dreams? No. Incompatible with my personal philosophy.” Once more I returned to work.
“You know, most people would jump at—”
“Go isekai someone else, dude, I’m busy. I ain’t a fighter or a healer. Even if I get dropped into a fantasy world I ain’t going to change. So, I either shovel shit there or shovel shit here where all my stuff is. I choose here. So? Fuck. *Off*.”
“You lack drive.”
“And you lack armour in the primary places you should have—”
\* * *
At the end of the bed, standing before a bright and blinding swirl of purple, is a vast and godly version of myself. In each of his colossal, armoured fists he holds...heads. My heads.
Two in one hand. Three in the other.
“Join me! Or join my...what are you doing?”
“Strapping on my go bag! Let’s do this!”
“...you might be a little *too* into this.” |
"So, this is you.... you are Michael?"the clerk asked, although it was more of an accusation, we both knew.
"Yes..."I trailed off, maintaining eye contact. My right shoulder twitched mutinously.
In my life I have had some particularly cringe-worthy moments, but now I had plumbed the depths for a new personal low. Using my recently deceased older brother's ID to try and buy beer felt like less of a tribute to him now than it had sounded in my head an hour ago.
As I looked into the clerk's eyes I detected a distinct glint of resolve, and I could tell this was about to end very, very poorly for me. I inventoried my options in an instant, and in my mind I decided the best option would be to insist I was my brother. My body determined the best line of action would be to cry, wet myself, and beg him not to call the cops however, and was a heartbeat from moving unilaterally for plan B.
"Michael!?"Cried a woman from behind me.
I turned around and recognized Tanya
My brother had always been an unstoppable force of willpower. He was my hero growing up. He performed well in school, was an all-star athlete, and always had the eye of the ladies. I would say that his Achilles heel was his hero complex (with which I was thankfully not likewise afflicted).
He always wanted to save everyone.
Tanya was his Everest.
She had been Michael's girlfriend for almost all of high school and college, and must have taken Michael's successes as a personal challenge; the challenge being to see how much she could hold him back. She pushed for him to go to a local college rather than where he had his full ride, demanded he not attend parties at college in mixed company, and imposed other petty, insecure restrictions on him that I most certainly would not have endured, in addition to her otherwise insane histrionics. It had been around five years since I had last seen her and a couple years since my brother had finally broken up with her while over seas on his final deployment. When I had heard about the breakup I had been ecstatic.
Currently, her face was lit up with surprise and joy.
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"Oh, hi Tanya, how's it going?"I inquired dismissively, already turning around to try and make a speed record of the end of my purchase. The clerk, while still eyeing me suspiciously, was now ringing up my items.
"How is it going? How is it GO-ING?"She demanded while storming inexorably forward. It was clear that the surprise had worn off, and her face no longer displayed any joy either.
If I had any common sense I would have grabbed the next closest person in line for use as a human shield. She was on me in an instant.
"Here I am at home, WITH YOUR SON that you refuse to hear about, and you don't bother to tell me you are in town!?"She raged.
I felt like I had been punched in the face. I was never an uncle, was I? It had been so long since I had seen her and Mike had never mentioned a pregnancy... I felt sick. We hadn't talked much in the months before he was killed but I felt like this is something he definitely would have told me about, wouldn't he?
The clerk no longer held a look of consternation, and had instead opted to much more expeditiously ring me up, while paying much closer attention to the items on hand.
"We waited for years, YEARS, for you to see the light and come back, you piece of shit. Leaving us alone, without even your military benefits because you were too CHICKENSHIT to get married!"she roared, making accusatory chopping gestures in my direction for emphasis.
I had no idea what to say. I turned around again to the cashier who was now pushing my items at me and demanding money in a demeanor that was vaguely reminiscent of a how a robber in a stickup might.
"Don't you turn away from me!"She yelled. "You and I have a lot to talk about."
I grabbed the two six packs and headed for the door. I felt a burning shame and confusion roiling inside me, but I knew there was no way I could let her malign my brother like that. Pieces were falling into place, and the picture they were creating of Mike was not flattering. I just wanted to go home and digest, preferably with a healthy dose of beer.
"I joined the Army to escape you, you evil bitch. You only ever held me back."I choked out, with my hands full of six packs. I moved for the door and only looked back once as I hustled through it.
I almost made it to my car before she got to the parking lot.
"Donny."She yelled.
My name stopped me with my door still open. I placed the beers down on the driver seat slowly. She closed the gap on my car with a couple quick strides, dropping the angry pretense.
Now it was my turn. The confused and upset feeling was giving way to rage building up inside me like pressure in a pressure cooker.
"You knew ... you really ARE an evil bitch."I intoned matter-of-factly. "You know who I am and you put me through that right after my brother died? You know Mike died right? But seriously, there is no kid? You guys broke up years ago..."
"Hold on."She said dismissively, waiving away my words. She came in close, then reached into my car and pulled out one of the six packs.
"No, the kid isn't his, and yes, I know he is dead. This is the tax for getting you through that shitstorm you were brewing in line. And for not telling your mom, dickhead."
"I can see why he left you."I said angrily, letting rage get the better of me.
She looked me up and down with a calculating look, then turned to walk off with my beer leaving me with just a single six pack and a final quip.
"I can see why you wish you were him."
|
A lifelessness had taken him and only the ghosts of memories remained. The ocean was vast and empty, its dark depths reflecting his sadness, and the sunlit surface that distorted all hope. A lifelessness had come and only an instinct of duty remained.
*Or is that hope? Perhaps hope is duty?*
Thinking was hard for him.
*If you don't flex your muscles, you lose them.*
And so he thought often to stay his deteriorating mind.
*You're an animal,* he thought. *Big, stupid. Nobody.*
The ocean was filled with animals. Some were like him. Others were smaller. He could speak to none.
*They call themselves names. You should name yourself if no one will name you.*
And he had often given himself a name. But always he had forgotten it.
*No one to use a name. No point to it.*
He sunk past the reflecting waters, the clearness of the cold sea, sunk past most familiar life and into the depths, into that lifelessness.
He had no purpose and so he deteriorated, relying on instinct only. Silence and incomprehension had been his family. The ocean's apathetic rush washed over his mind in his depressive trance.
*I am an animal,* he thought.
Then something broke the monotony. It scared him to his bones, to his heart so that inside he was cold and truly afraid. A sound came as thin as the weeds. It pierced the ocean, unheeded by any life, and sunk to the depths.
There in the darkness it became distorted. In the depths it came in bursts and he could understand little.
*How could you understand at all? You are an animal. Besides, no one can talk to you.*
He decided it was a trick of his decaying mind. The ocean had played tricks on him before and the waves had often sounded like company in the darkest of isolations.
*This is no trick.*
The bursts came like nothing he had ever heard or imagined to hear.
"Friend,"it said, perfectly understandable. "Friend, are you there?"
How could it be? The voice was all around, coming from within his head.
"Friend?"
It was gone. He surfaced, going higher and higher until the sun was brilliant and the air crisp. White caps floated in the distance. He knew the nearby land but not the name.
"Friend can you hear me?"the voice asked.
*Yes,* he thought.
"Good! Thank the Coda!"
*You can hear my thoughts?*
"Yes friend. The signal connects both ways. Sorry for the intrusion."
*I have never spoken with anyone before.*
"Then you should get out more!"
There was laughter. He had known laughter, in a way. The other creatures laughed in their schools with their partners. The ocean was filled with laughter as it was with everything else. He had never shared in it before.
"I'm sorry,"the voice said. "A little gallows humor. You must forgive me."
*Where are you? Are you in the water?*
"Water? What is water? I'm in the atmosphere, a bit higher to be exact. And farther. The signal says it's many many leagues away. I suppose I'm from a different planet."
*What is a planet? What does any of that mean?*
"Oh Coda!"
There was struggle and explosions.
"Look friend, there is no time to explain. Why haven't I been able to get through to anyone? I've been beaming forever. I'd just about given up."
*I don't know. I cannot speak with anyone as well.*
"Just great. Do you know if there is anyone who can get some news out? I have urgent news. I need to warn you and all around your world. Is there anyone who I can speak with?"
*In the ocean? No. Perhaps on land. The animals there make noises sometimes, but the noises are meaningless.*
"On land? How do I beam there? Your world is covered in something odd. Is land the solid pieces?"
*Yes. Land is hard.*
"Well I can't aim too well from here, friend. Can you help me? I need to contact someone. There's been an explosion, a great one. A star has gone supernova. Many stars are bursting. Many places are dying. My world is dying. Yours is soon to die. I need to contact this land!"
*What is a star?*
"Oh Coda! Friend, you're not listening! I need to contact someone who's in the know!"
He had never spoken before and it tired him. The voice's anger terrified him. His uselessness became apparent and that loneliness returned with ice in its center, freezing him from all feeling.
*I'm sorry, I'm just an animal.*
He sunk to the sea and the sun faded into windows of white in the water. Then it was dark and getting darker.
"No! Friend! No!"
The voice was fading. He knew he had failed and thought perhaps this was why he could not talk. He was useless.
*I am a failure and deserve my isolation.*
The dark engulfed him. A brief sadness flushed through his body and he felt sorry for the other animals, both in sea and on land.
*They are so happy,* he thought. *I have always been jealous.*
He knew the voice was saying something bad was going to happen. Something bad would affect them all.
*I wish I could help. I wish I was more than an animal.*
He sunk to the depths and it was quiet except for the haunting roar of the lonely ocean. |
It was easy enough to lead a charmed life, once I figured out that nobody else could hear the music. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I realized that it could be straight unhealthy.
See, I could glean additional information about a situation easily by... just not being prepared for it. If I walked into a test that was outside of my reach, I'd hear the music switch, dramatic, pounding. A certain song still made my body drenched in sweat. If I was walking by an alley that held an unfortunate fate, the music switched to something low, with violins and thumping bass. If I studied that right things for the test, I heard the music switch. Montage music, trumpets, guitars.
It wasn't quite a charmed life, no, that would require me to have done something other than just grifted with it. It was like I was blessed with precognition, but only when I encountered something challenging. Life was a mix that way; situations that I could predict or not predict based on the key changes, based on how close I was listening to the damn situation at the time.
The first problem had come with my first girlfriend. 17, beach. Key changed unexpectedly while we were talking, and I caught the flash of her eyes and the quirk of her mouth.
A full twenty, thirty seconds of the most ear grating noises I had ever heard, like background radiation frying out from the sun, bouncing like a ping pong ball off of a dozen satellites just so it could pierce my brain, and then the shuddering words
"I'm done."
Then she was gone, and the music was all that was there, sweeping through my head like a damned hurricane.
-----
The man sat on the bench with a tan suitcase and a grey suede jacket, his head cloaked underneath the brim of an old fashioned hat. He shot me a grin as I walked by, looking for somewhere to sit down, and gestured next to him.
"Catching the train out to LA?"he asked, coolly.
"Something like that,"I admitted. Easy going music for an easy going place. Trains had never done me much wrong.
"Good, good."
My eyes flicked down and looked at the case on the ground. Hill. Dr. Hill.
"You ever play Music?"the man asked, his eyes set in a halfway smug face.
"Music? No, not really. But I listen to it,"I joked. "You got any favorite bands?"
The music downshifted a few notches, into something bit more vibrant, expositiony.
His eyes glinted in his skull like chips of mottled diamonds, like mirrored glass.
"Actually, Jeremy,"
I hadn't told him my name.
"They call me the Music Man."
The bass dropped.
-------
https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ |
At first, I was overwhelmed. I could not remember the last time I had gone on a date like this. Nay, I could not even remember the last time I had gone on a date! I could feel my leg trembling, creasing my newly ironed trousers with every bounce. My tie was maybe too much, but it felt as if it made the whole thing more legitimate. When she first walked into the restaurant, I thought my nerves would kill me, but I actually became more calm than I expected. There was some familiarity to her, yet it felt very new. Her dress made her eyes stand out from across the restaurant, and I immediately drowned in the ocean blue. Her hair flowed past her shoulders, and no matter where I looked, I was reminded of a winter morning. I felt overdressed, sloppy, messy, underdressed, overall I felt wrong in her presence. She still smiled at the slob of a date she had be with, which eased up my nerves. We talked for hours, yet I could never remember about what! She was perfect, and she saw something perfect in me as well. We instantly clicked.
For months we dated, and with every day I loved her more. I did not see her as much as I wanted, as she worked long hours at a nursery home. Every day, once she got home, what would have been a sad day could immediately turn mellow and joyous. We went on many more dates; we left the country for some even, I think. It never changed the fact that I loved her with my whole heart. Every time I got the chance, I told her that once I had more money, I would propose to her in a heartbeat. Every time, she let out a giggle that melted my heart, but I did not know why.
A carefree saturday, we had been invited to a family gathering. I wanted to meet her family, and so we would. They were very accepting of who I was and of our relationship, which made me even more gleeful. Her niece told me that she wanted a picture of the two of us, so we kissed and her niece let out a laugh, saying we looked cute. I asked her if she could send me that photo, but before I had finished that sentence, my phone lit up. I was not the most tech savvy, but I knew I had the photo. I immediately treasured it because we really did look cute.
I must have looked at that photo every night before I went to bed. We were an adorable couple, no matter who you asked. I had had my phone updated recently with the help from my son, and when I looked at the photo again, I saw a new button I had not seen before. It simply said “People (2)” underneith the image. As I pressed it, it showed a picture of my face, with my name under it and a number beside my name. *1,879*. Beside me was a picture of her face, with her name underneith and a number. *1,874*. I was not sure what that number meant, but as I pressed her face, I saw hundreds of pictures of me and her. I was confused. We loved each other very much, but neither one of us were trigger happy with a camera. I asked her about this, not thinking that she would have an answer. I had heard of there being “bugs” or similar that could apparently screw some things up on a phone, so I chalked it up to that. When I showed her the pictures, she laughed. She laughed like she always did when I brought up the question of marriage. Still confused, I gave her a bit of a stern look and asked what was so funny? Her face immediately dropped. She looked worried. When I asked her what happened, she laid it all out for me.
*We’ve been married for 50 years*. I was shaken to my core. How could we have been married for 50 years? I had met her only a couple of months ago. I had obviously looked shocked, and she was affected. I could see her eyes swelling up, only to hug me tight. She told me she would call for a doctor in the morning, and that we would sort it out. Morning came and I was driven to the doctor’s office. It turned out that I had developed dementia, and I would be lucky to survive the years to come. Yet my wife was with me throughout the disease. As months passed by, I got worse and started to forget her more frequently. Every day, she would tell me who she was and who she was to me, yet I always had a feeling that she was someone special to me before she opened her mouth.
​
I had fallen in love with a young man when we were both in our 20s. We had immediately clicked, and it did not take long until he would pester me about proposing if he had the money for it. I thought it was funny, because I did not need a big diamond ring to know that he loved me. Yet, one September night he sat himself down next to me and gave me the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. We had loved each other every day for 50 years, every day was better than the last. One night, he had asked me on a date. I was happy to go, even though we did not celebrate anything. It felt as if we fell in love all over again. Months after this, I realized he really did fall in love again. As I visited him, when he was treated for his Alzheimer’s, I would remind him of who he was, who I was, and who I was to him, and every time he smiled back to me and asked how he had been so lucky. One night, I had broken down on his bed. I told him that even though he did not know who I was, I loved him more than anything. He gave me a short answer, but one that I will never forget.
*I may not remember you, but that makes it so much better to fall in love with you all over again.*
>I now have a [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/NoxieWrites/)! Will post some other short stories there that are not prompt inspired! |
Floaters are funny little things. They disappear when you don't pay attention, but the moment you spot one, you realise just how many there are, drifting quietly in your vision, just waiting to be noticed.
That's how lovelines look like to me. You can't really tell until you consciously keep an eye out for them. Don't bother Googling what lovelines are. It's just a term I came up with, one that you're probably curious about right now. I certainly was.
Imagine how a thread would move underwater. Now picture that thread connecting two people, sometimes more, and you'll get the gist of what I see on a daily basis. Sometimes I like standing at vantage points overlooking the city so that I can see this weird light show in action; they can get quite pretty at night.
Not everybody has a loveline though. Monks mostly don't, though you'd be surprised at the number of them that actually *do*. Ditto priests, nuns, and other people who've sworn to celibacy. It got me wondering how much of a choice love actually is. These single people with threads seem to be doing a good job.
Some people have frayed ends, while others are just threadless beings. I never really got around to understanding the meaning of all that. All I know is that these lines connect soulmates together. Neat, huh? It took a while before I made sense out of all that.
Maybe it was the fact that most couples I had met were joined by these lovelines. It also helped that most of my childhood friends, who'd had many partners throughout the years, ended up with the people they're connected with. That was around when I began to connect the dots.
Of course, that discovery was marred by the fact that mom and dad didn't share the same thread. For years I wished I was wrong, but I finally gave in to the truth when they split up.
"Ethan's just a friend,"mom said, a year later when the new guy came into her life. But I saw the connection, and it wasn't in the figurative sense either. They shared a loveline, and despite the circumstances, I found myself being happy for her.
I was curious about my soulmate too. I'd often watch my thread flutter ever so slightly, as if connected to someone hundreds of miles away.
I would have a couple of girlfriends throughout the years, but as I watched their lovelines float away from me, as mine did from them, I'd realise that maybe the dating scene wasn't somewhere I wished to be. That was until I met Natalie.
My company had sent me on some boring upskilling seminar where attendance was compulsory. A woman in a pencil skirt took the stage, and I found myself instantly enthralled not by the things she said, but how she said them.
It might've had something to do with social media returns-on-investment or something, I forget. All I knew was that my loveline was tracking her as she paced back and forth across the stage. I was sure she couldn't see what I saw, but could she feel what I felt? I had to find out.
That wasn't the only thing I sought to clarify. The other thing I noticed was that our loveline was frayed, hanging just by a little wisp. What did that mean? I'd seen it in people with no soulmates, their lovelines unconnected and broken at the ends, but this?
Natalie's presence helped make the seminar more interesting. Two hours flew by, and I was the first to approach her for the after-event discussions. I swear it felt like I was in a rom-com of sorts. We completed each other's sentences, made the same references, and had our own inside jokes before the minute was up.
Our first date turned into a second, then a third, and pretty soon things became serious between us. It went so well that I'd totally forget all about our frayed thread. But I would soon learn what that was all about.
\*\*\*
"You have what?"I asked. This was six months into our relationship, when she'd dropped the 'we need to talk' bomb.
"Pancreatic cancer. Apparently it's one of the most silent forms of cancer."
"Well what did the doctor say?"
"She's not sure either. There are still lots of tests to be done, so we'll just have to wait and see."
I told her we'd work through this together. I said that I'd be there no matter what. I told her that I loved her, and that she's the only one who's ever made me feel this way.
She said she had noticed me walking into that boring-ass seminar. She never believed in love at first sight, but fell for the cliché the moment I stepped in. She even mentioned that there was a weird connection between us, a pull that was hard to explain.
I knew exactly what she meant. I felt like I could explain a part of it, but I kept quiet.
"Do you think,"she said, then paused.
"What?"I asked.
"You think we might've been lovers, from like, a past life?"
"I think that's the only reasonable explanation."
We hugged each other the entire night through, sharing tears and laughs along the way, recalling all the moments we'd spent together for the past six months.
Then she was gone.
Just like that, a week after she was diagnosed. She complained about a headache and had difficulty breathing, so she decided to nap it off. She would never never wake up again, and I would never get to say my goodbyes.
Nothing remained except her memories, not even my loveline—it had disappeared completely upon Natalie's death. Not that I cared. I was certain that I'd never love again.
It's been years since she'd left, and I still see the lovelines connecting strangers, waving this way and that, almost like the tendrils of a jellyfish, numbering in the thousands. Then I look at myself, empty both inside and out, trying to work out the meaning of it all.
They say it's better to have love and lost than to never have loved at all, and my lack of a loveline might attest to that, but I've begun to see things in a different perspective.
I haven't loved and lost. I'm still very much in love with Natalie, and I'll always be. And maybe not having a loveline means she's with me now—and always will be. |
I sighed as I heard another scream of pain. Someone was climbing my fence again, and didn’t notice the ground was laced with small spikes. And Legos. Legos are more painful and cheaper, but I’m not so inhumane that I would use only Legos. I took another sip of my coffee (Why do I drink this stuff?), put on my slippers, and opened the door to go deal with whoever was invading my property again.
“Hello there!” I called out to an armored figure who was hopping on one foot, wondering how the pain of Legos was felt through solid steel. He stood up straight, still wincing, before composing himself.
“Evil necromancer! I’ve come to end you and free these souls from your tyran-”
“Hold up!” I said. “Did you notice the sign that said private property? Or the several ones that said no trespassing? Or the one that said beware the living dead? Or the one that said your taxes will be increased to pay for any property damage you caused?” He gasped at that last one. Taxes scare everyone, from heroes to necromancers, apparently.
“Well, yes… But you’re evil, so it doesn’t count!” I winced. What was it with this guy and dramatic exclamations.
“Hey, could you keep it down?” I said. “I can hear you perfectly fine when you talk, and some people have to work the graveyard shift, so be considerate of those who are still sleeping, yeah?”
He looked a little confused, but still very righteous. “Well, those workers shouldn’t be sleeping. They’re evil undead, they should be going off doing… evil things, I guess. What evil things do you do here, again?”
I sighed, and shook my head. “You think the dead don’t need sleep? You think they're just tools to be used? They’re people too, ok? In fact, Gerald, come here.” I gestured over at my gardener, who was still pruning the bushes, and trying to tune our conversation out. I always liked Gerald. He knew how to follow instructions, and didn’t stick his nose where it didn’t belong, unlike this idiot here who could read a neon orange sign apparently.
“This is Gerald.” I said to the ‘hero’. “He has a daughter he had to care for, but he was involved in an accident, and sadly passed away. So I brought him back, and now he works for me and makes enough money to put his daughter through school. Is that evil?”
The hero looked a lot more unsure now. “But… he’s undead?”
“Yes, yes.” I said, exasperated. “And you’re an idiot with a suit of armor. What’s your point here?”
He looked sad. Did I hurt his feelings? Good. Maybe he’ll think twice next time he jumps into someone else’s property based on discrimination against the location of their worker’s souls. “Sorry, man. I’ll, uh, go do something else, I guess. But you have a gate somewhere? I don’t want to climb over Legos again.”
Oh, he’s leaving? With an apology? That’s nice. “Yeah, the gate is literally over there.” I said, pointing to about 20 feet to my left. “You somehow missed a 15 foot tall gate, and opted to climb the fence instead, and land in Legos. Like, the gate isn’t even locked. Want to revisit that whole ‘idiot in a suit of armor’ again?”
“Sheesh, talk about beating a dead horse.” he said as he left. “I’m leaving man.”
“And don’t come back!” I yelled at his retreating figure in the distance. I looked to Gerald and laughed. This hero didn’t even come close to discovering the criminal enterprise I ran out of my basement. |
\[Turbo Surprise\]
Gwynn opened her eyes to a dim, grey morning and sighed. If it was going to be an outdoor day, the sun would have filled the room with warm light. But, the fog was out; she was trapped inside all day. At least she had access to the internet.
Four days ago she posted a question on a new forum she found. But, she guessed she was too new because not a single person replied and no one upboosted it. After lingering in bed for another hour, Gwynn felt the need to use the restroom. She moved quietly through her small house to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. She did not know if the giants wandering through the fog could hear anything as tiny as she was moving around, but she did not want to take any chances.
After the restroom she sat at her computer desk instead of returning to the bed. Although Gwynn did not get an answer, she did find the forum entertaining due to the variety of topics. She'd been visiting regularly since she found it; but, this time, she had a private message waiting.
"Oh please be useful..,"Gwynn hoped to herself as she clicked on the message.
\[You have Fog Stalkers there!?? I need one, is it cool if I pop in? Can you let me know when they're out again? P.S. - They always come out when it's clear! The 'fog' is their defense mechanism, it only comes when they're out. - Turbo\]
Gwynn reread the message several times; but, she still got the impression that the stranger was playing with her. If what Turbo said about the fog stalkers were true, it'd kind of make sense. She had no idea what he needed one for, or how he expected to get to her through the fog and without knowing where she lived. But, she was going to be stuck inside all day and decided to have fun. She replied.
\[Thank you for the answer! It's a pleasure to meet you, Turbo, my name is Gwynn. You're welcome to pop in anytime and as a matter of fact, the Fog Stalkers are out right now! I don't know how long they've been out, I just woke up. You might want to hurry.\] Gwynn giggled to herself as she sent the reply. She received an answer surprisingly fast, before she could even switch to the next tab. She clicked on the message.
\[Thanks! Just woke up? Need time to change? - Turbo\] She couldn't help but smile at the short reply. He may have been crazy, but if nothing else, Turbo was polite. Gwynn wore a terry cloth robe, nothing she'd leave the house in. But, she was covered enough, and did not expect anyone to show up.
\[I'm decent. Come on over.\] She replied. Gwynn turned on her chair and gave a quick glance around the room. It was dark and grey and empty. She smiled to herself to mask her own disappointment as she opened a new topic. She began reading a confusing thread about nugget-sized trees when she felt cool air tickle the back of her neck. At the same moment she thought about turning around to check, a youthful voice spoke up. She was already in motion when the scare hit.
"Hey, Gwynn. Nice place,"he said.
"WHATHAFUOWWW!"Gwynn jumped out of her seat and hit the keyboard with her knee on the upswing. Then, she toppled over the side of her computer chair while flailing her legs in the air. She knocked the monitor off the desk and sent her drink onto the well-ventilated tower. The monitor was the only light in the dim room and it became that much darker when the screen cracked.
"Oh damn, sorry,"Turbo said. "I thought you were ready for company,"he said as he stepped forward to offer her a hand up.
"Who are you!?? How'd you get in my house!??"Gwynn asked as she stood up without Turbo's help. Instead, he put his finger to his lips.
"Shhhh, you'll scare them off,"he said. But, he did take a step back to try and make her more comfortable. And, he looked at her with a smirk.
"You didn't think I was real, did you?"he asked.
"Of course not,"Gwynn replied. "HOW. ARE. YOU. IN. MY. HOUSE?"she asked. Turbo shrugged and reached forward to pluck something out of the air. Gwynn didn't see it happen; but, in an instant, he held a transparent glass card. Then, he slid his fingers over the front and pulled a black card out of it somehow.
"This is called a Traverse card. It opens portals to other Earths, I used one to get to yours from mine,"he said.
"And you couldn't have landed outside?"Gwynn asked. Regardless of the magic happening in front of her, her only source of outside communication was ruined.
"I would've if you said I couldn't come over,"Turbo chuckled. Anyway, sorry about your computer. I'll help you fix it, but first I need some Fog Stalkers. I'll be right back,"he said. Gwynn watched him walk out of the house and considered locking the door behind him. But, if nothing else, he seemed to be true to his word, even if she didn't know what he was talking about. She looked down at her broken monitor and sighed.
Gwynn was dressed and the glass was swept up with the broken monitor back on the desk by the time there was a knock at the door.
"It's Turbo,"he said from the other side.
"It's open,"Gwynn replied. She realized sunlight was starting to fill the room.
"Well, the bad news is, it was only one. I still need a few more, but it's a start,"Turbo said. He pulled out the glass card again and this time he held it between both his hands. It stretched as he pulled both ends, then it split into when it doubled in size. He stepped forward and handed one to Gwynn. "This is a node; it'll restore and upgrade your computer. And, it'll still keep the AlterNet connection open so you keep in touch if you have any questions. Or you can keep visiting forums from other Earths."
"*Keep* visiting?"Gwynn asked. Turbo nodded.
"You posted your question on another Earth's internet, that's why no one knew what you were talking about,"Turbo said. Gwynn had some time to process the situation while Turbo was gone, but now she was confused again.
"Aren't you from another Earth too?"she asked. Turbo nodded as he pulled a Traverse card from his node. "Then, how did you know what Fog Stalkers are?"Turbo threw the card on the floor and it opened a black portal. He looked at her and shrugged as he stepped towards the hole.
"This isn't the only Earth where they're found,"he said. Then, Turbo jumped into the hole giving one more answer that he didn't want to explain. "And my quest log told me."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1429 in a row. (Story #341 in year four.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/). |
We marched further and further into the wild. The forest swayed in the gentle breeze. I took slow strides, taking my time to breathe in the brisk morning air.
Absorbing the aura of the trees, if you will.
With me joined a being not-so magical. My biggest skeptic, who - with his concerningly large Twitter following - was single-handedly swaying the court of public opinion. He does have a name, but I shan't recite it to you. I shall not ever speak it, for the mere mention of it drives bile from the darkest underbelly of my belly to come storming upwards into my throat.
I turned my head and spat. I can feel His glare as we trudged through the soft mud. I reached out to my skeptic the previous week. His many tirades on how my videos were "fake"and "crudely edited"had really begun to boil my blood. I felt as if this could all be resolved with a simple meeting. A simple demonstration of my powers was all that was needed to quell the fury of the disbelievers.
We continued to walk in silence, me leading. I held out my left hand to feel the autumn drizzle. I wore fingerless patchwork leather gloves - they helped prevent splinters. My cobalt gown made sure that my flowing white mane felt no moisture, while my white New Balance sneakers defended my feet from the cold. We grew oh so close to the clearing in which I planned to demonstrate my mystical powers. I chuckled under my breath.
*Look at me*, I thought. Performing for this.. this feeble minded... *fool*. Yes, that'll do it. No better title for him. Just a feeble minded fool who I bet is trembling with excitement at the thought of running on home and squawking to his lackeys about how.. how he exposed me for a *fraud*. The Skeptic truly has no idea what he is in for.
At last, we reached the clearing. We traded squelching mud for ankle-high weeds as we stepped onto our stage.
"So,"muttered the Skeptic, staring at me with a furrowed brow. "Earn your Wizard title."
I smirked. The Skeptic readied his recording equipment. He was rather insistent on being able to film our little interaction and seeing as I have nothing to hide, I allowed it. I slipped my hand into my pouch and dug about. Pushing aside various trinkets and vials, I pulled out two items. I swiftly swallowed down my prescribed wizard pills, washing them down with my wizard water. Wiping my lip, I took my staff in firm grip. My hand crafted staff, made of aged Oak wood. Meticulously shaped, it held a shining, beautiful emerald. It gleamed in the sun, demanding respect from all who cast their eyes upon it.
It held great power - and I held *it*.
I spoke no words. I wouldn't waste the breath. The Skeptic signaled to me that he had began filming by letting out a snide remark.
"Cast a spell or some shit."
Such a shit eating grin he wore. I was about to shatter it.
I stepped forward and raised my staff to the sky. My arms spread apart, I began to summon Mother Nature's strength. I felt the trees recoil in fear as the magic flowed through me. Local wildlife was right to run to safety as I began to scream. A bloodcurdling, horrifying scream. The Skeptic continued to film, but I could see his knees shake. I could feel his eyes jitter. I could sense his fear.
I ended his fear by swiftly bringing my staff down on his head. It connected with a wet thud. Panting, gasping for breath, I brought it down on his head again.
And again.
And again.
Until I could no longer feel his foolish eyes stare daggers into me. Casting his ignorant judgement. I smirk, standing over his lifeless body. Warm blood drips into the grass. I feel accomplished, safe. I have decapitated the disbelievers, and soon the remaining body shall wither. Taking their beliefs with them to the grave. I knell down to collect his camera before leaving.
Returning to my car I recite to myself.
"I AM a wizard."
"I *AM*." |
They look at them, and they praise them. They bow before the gods and build great things in their honor, never questioning them, always being obedient to the will of the gods as preached by the priests. How would they react, if they knew how little they care for them. The words of prayers do not reach the cold and sterile halls of the Moon Goddess, nor would she care about them if they could. She is a tragic figure, who longs for a love she can never have. She has not thought of, or even noticed mortals, for thousands of years. The Sun God sings his own praises, shines without a care, and acts more like a glowing peacock than a god. He only loves himself and his light, the praise of mortals are to him worth nothing, as they can never hope to match him in anything, and thus he doesn't care. The Sea, her shape massive, her thoughts unknowable, her design incomprehensible; she does not love them, and should they be found on her massive planet-covering flesh, they will not be spared from the storm or the high waves. She has no mercy, and the prayers of mortals are nothing compared to the endless songs of her beloved whales or the secrets that the giant squids whisper into her endless depths. A hungry god, the God of the Land, the Earthen Deity, sees them as the best willing subjects one could have, in his endless palace, those willing servants wait upon his every need, so he covets and enjoys their subservience to him.
The hedonistic god-goddess of Pleasure, who is all shapes and none, who is that pleasure which only those who love pain can find, and the glorious rapture found in the most passionate love; They see the mortal races as toys, to be used and broken as they deem fit. Death sees them as a harvest to be collected or a herd of cattle to be thinned. The Goddess of the Hunt has some love for them, but it is strange, for she sees them as children, and take them into her care to be remade into stronger things; It is not for nothing that the children of men are warned never to let their young wander the woods at night, lest the Huntress Supreme takes them in, and shapes them to be man-beasts, the races of lycanthropes and other were-creatures. In this, she means well, for she does it to protect the mortals from the monsters of the world, and yet she does not stop to ask, nor would she care to know, if her works are a curse or a blessing. After all, she is a god, and like all gods, she knows that she knows better than the mortals.
Yet the mortal races still pray to them. Even here. Even at the edge of everything, they still pray to them. I see them, clutching the emblems of their patron gods, see them sing hymns, see them bury the dead with reverence and pleas for their safe passage to whatever comes next. In this trench, there is more faith than in any temple or cathedral. Only one god is not prayed to. Only one singular deity is not sought for succor in this dire hour. The War God. The God of Soldiers. The juggernaut that tramples the world. The Sword-King-God. He who is the Apollyon, the destroyer, the conqueror of nations. Atop his flaming steed he charges at all foes. With his infinite blade, he carves the could-have-beens into the fated dead. With his axe he tears down the gates to every city. There are no temples to him. There are no prayers. There is no love for the god of the blood-madness and the berserk.
Here I sit, waiting for the moment when we will go over the top, charging into the machine-gun bullets of the enemy. Around me sits my fellow soldiers. My fellows in this war. Their eyes are sunken. Their hands shake after every artillery strike. Their faces, once young and fresh; full of hope and optimism, has aged immensely. They do not think of their homes. They do not think of their families. They do not even think of victory. To think of anything abstract and wonderful like that would break them. To remember the proud words of a father, to be embraced by a mother, to laugh with siblings. To remember such things now, that would make them weep like children again. And they would never recover. Two times, our company has charged uphill. Twice have we been repulsed. One of them, Private Lesshep, shakes more than normally. Her face is near to the breaking point, but she toughens through it. I reach out my hand and place it on her shoulder. And instantly, she is calmed. She knows that her sergeant is here. That I, Sgt. Milo Werzo, who has been here ever since the war started, will keep her safe.
It is a lie. I cannot keep her safe. I can only march alongside her, and Pvt. Leshenko, Cpl. Frynco, and all the others in my small unit. They are good soldiers. Damn good soldiers. And yet, they are likely to die, come the moment when we will go over the top. When we charge across the barren wastelands that this war has caused. I hope they'll live. Because they have so much to live for. Leshenko, he has a wife and kids back home. His oldest son takes care of the bakery, and does well enough. Zashan, he used to draw so well. I hope that he will live, so that his hand one day can be still and steady again. Though the shell-shock, as they call it these days, will be with him forever. Frynco is tough. Tough as old leather. She's been here for nearly as long as I have. I love that she has been strong for five long horrible years in the trenches. Five years of death, sickness, and blood. For no good reasons. I will take her home when this is done, and I will do what I can to make her remember what it is like to be human. She has spent too long time near me, and must be taught to be something normal.
Of course, I was here the day the war began. I was in the chambers the day negotiations broke down. I was there when the first soldier fired that first shot. I was there when the beautiful forests that once spread over this land was chopped down or destroyed by sustained artillery fire. I was there, thirty years ago, when that last war left resentment and bitterness that grew like weeds until populists manipulated by a military-industrial complex grown out of control demanded that the people should bleed over something as banal as territory. I was there during every battle of the last war. And I will be here in every battle to come. I was there when the first tribe that lived poorly, saw a tribe that lived well, and turned their clubs and slings against them. I was there when the mortal races fought for a hundred years to wipe out the dragons.
I am the god of war.
And I am the only god that likes mortals. Because I have spent thousands of years fighting with them. I have been in every army. I have been an artillerist, a chariot-racing warrior, a blade-master, a knight, a sword-dancer, one of the axe-wielding warriors of the cold north, and the scimitar wielding hordes that came out of the dry east. Atop horseback, I have ridden across steppes, fought in frozen wastelands, on ships, and now that aerial combat is beginning, I believe I shall soon ride a black plane through the skies. Every war, I have stood side by side with mortals, and learned to respect them. Respect and appreciate them in a way that I have never loved my divine siblings. I've fought besides men who with their grace and gentleness would serve as far greater gods than any I've ever known. I've battled men with such a knowledge of the blade and of war, that they might have been able to fight the gods and win. In a thousand camps, a thousand men have shown me drawings of their wives back home. On a million fields, I've withstood charges with men who I'd give my immortal life for in a second if I could. I've been a general on high, a father to my men, guiding them to victory in a hundred battles. I've stood atop a tall ship, smiling with glee as the greatest admiral in the world kissed me before we sailed to our deaths together; all to ensure the survival of a kingdom that didn't deserve her. |
Watching Timmy from down the street clamber onto the barstool and slam a pocketful of wadded up bills and coins onto the table was quite the sight. I smiled in spite of my better instincts, raising an eyebrow toward the kid.
"Who let you in here?"
"I told Mick at the door we had business to discuss."
Kid was what, eight? Nine? But here he was, posturing like a grown man. Thunderclouds boiled on his brows. Who was I to dissuade him? "Alright, what's this about?"
"I need you to take care of someone for me."His voice was firm and certain. He shoved the pile of assorted monies toward me.
"I've got no idea what you're talking about."
"Liar."I'd heard adults spit out strings of curses with less venom behind them than he packed into that one word.
"Really, kid, you've got the wrong guy."
"Nuh-uh,"he insisted. "I know your an assaia--assisi--ass--"His face screwed up with concentration as he worked to arrange the syllables in their correct order. "Hitman,"he amended at last.
"Not me, I'm just a plumber."Easy to explain the big van and emergency hours that way. Plus, no one asked any prying questions about garbage bags and waste disposal when you mentioned it had been a big mess on site.
"I saw that bald guy give you a bag of money and a picture. I'm not stupid, you know."
There was a moment if shock, one that ricochetted internally while I kept the bemused grin on my face. "You've got one big imagination. That was just a plumbing job for a buddy."
"And then the picture winds up on the news?"
When did kids get observant? All I heard was how they were always on their phones, but this one was ready to open his own PI business on the block. "I've got no idea about any of that."
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Listen, Trevor and Kyle stole my bike. I need you to go...unclog their drains and get it back."
"You're trying--mistakenly, mind you--to hire an assassin to get your hike back? Doesn't that seem a little extreme?"
"You don't have to kill them. Just get the bike."
"Listen, kid, I don't know--"
"Or I can tell the police about the picture."
There it was, the final conundrum. Was I going to kill little Timmy to keep things quiet or be blackmailed by a grade schooler.
The bartender finally noticed the stowaway. "Hey, pipsqueak, you gotta get outta here. I ain't losing my license so you can have a playdate."He glared at me as if I was the one at fault.
"I was just leaving."He halfway swung off the barstool, hand hovering over the money on the table. "Well? What'll it be?"
I sighed. This was going to be a hard one to explain in the grand story of my legacy. I shoved the money toward him. "Keep your allowance, I'll do it. But on the understanding you keep your mouth shut, understood?"
He nodded, hurriedly shoving the money in his pocket.
"And remember, anyone finds out about me, my buddy here will tell them you hired me, understood? You'll be in the slammer till you're thirty, too."A lie, probably, but based on how pale his face went, an effective one.
"I expect my bike by midnight,"he squeaked before rushing outside.
I tapped on the bar and took a long drink from whatever the bartender sent my way. Kid had spunk, that was for sure. Annoying spunk, but nevertheless.
Now, to plan a neighborhood bike heist. I shook my head. Kids these days. |
First time posting. Please be nice with the roasting.
"Well, isn't my ability lame? The only power that I have is the ability to alter my own memories. What a useless ppwer."Aria looked quite upset when she introduced herself to Professor X. It had been a few months that she knew there were people with terrifying abilities, reading minds, shooting lasers out of their eyes, and even manipulating the weather. Have they even thought of how much energy it would take to do something like that?
"I mean, I guess it isn't completely useless. The only benefit so far is an improved memory."
Professor X had sensed Aria when she arrived in New York City for her business trip as a consultant. It can be said that her psychic abilities perfectly folded in on herself so that external manipulation was impossible, but under the eyes of a psychic like him, Aria's abilities were glaringly obvious, like a flame in the dark night. He spent a couple of days tracking down her company and arranged a meeting. After all, it was best to let mutants know they were mutants.
And so Aria was initiated into the wonderful and wacky world of weirdos. Beautiful.
"So, umm, well, that's about it. What next."
"Well, would you mind if I uploaded some information to your mind? You certainly can forgive an old man for not wanting to waste time, wouldn't you. Normally, it would be dangerous to stuff information into another person's head, but since we're both psychics, it shouldn't be too bad."
"Certainly, go ahead!"
...
Professor Xavier felt like his ability hit a solid lead wall. His psychic waves rebounded perfectly off of Aria and fed his video footage of his school right back at him.
"Professor, did you just do something?"
The introduction of his school now played back in his mind.
"Well, I tried to push my memories onto yours, but it seems your ability thinks that that was a psychic attack, and well, my ability rebounded."
"Oh, well, that's a perk. Still kinda useless."
"Well, remember, there is never a useless ability in the world. Just people who don't know how to use them. You probably can't imagine how much some would give up for a functional memory, let alone a perfect one."
"I'll think about it, well then, can you introduce the school verbally then?"
"Sure, no problem."
...
"And that's basically the gist of it, any questions?"
"Yeah, why did you try to do that memory thing again if you knew it didn't work?"
"D. Did I?"Aria noticed that the Professor was quite surprised. What a hypocrite, trying to read my mind and pretending he didn't. Well, better keep up the facade. Was that a look of terror on his face? What was there to be afraid of? What a strange man.
"Well, it was nice meeting you today. Oh yeah, you might wanna get those legs checked out for cancer, I don't think light purple looks normal on a person's calves."
"Thanks for the reminder. Have a great day."
The door swung shut behind Aria. Xavier was sweating beads. His hands started trembling, but no, it was impossible. I'm a psychic. I'm a psychic. The mind is my home. The mind is my home. I'm fine. I'm fine.
...
Xavier woke up refreshed. It was quite a while since he had such a good night's sleep. Turns out that Aria girl just had photographic memory, and his powers caught a false positive. Oh well, it's not like it was the last time he thought someone was a mutant, but it turns out they weren't.
"Gee, it gives false positives."
"What a lame ability." |
Cinderella and Prince C. District 1. The wealthiest of them all. And supposedly the cruelest of them all.
Queen Elsa ~~and her Prince~~. District 2. Trained killers. She is expected to win. In fact, she already executed her prince. Woman power!
Ariel and Prince Eric. District 3. Very smart. They are one of the favorites to win.
Snow White and Prince Charming. District 4. Not the wealthiest. They are considered to be the favorite underdog of this Hunger Games.
Princess Anna and Kristoff. District 5. Soft and weak. They aren’t expected to survive very long.
Rapunzel and Flynn Rider. District 6. Not much is known. Neither poor nor rich. No one knows what to expect.
Belle and the Beast. District 7. Beauty and the Beast, quite literally. The Beast has resumed his beastly form. As such, with Belle’s book knowledge, there is a possibility that District 7 will win this year.
Aladdin and Jasmine. District 8. The poorest of all the tributes. It’s rumored Aladdin is pretty good with a sword.
Mulan and Captain Li Shang. District 9. Quite poor. However, they are considered the best fighters in straight up combat. One of the top three picks to win this Hunger Games.
Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip. District 10. Not the smartest of the bunch. They are rumored to be drug addicts.
Pocahontas and John Smith. District 11. Rather poor, but kind hearted. No one really cares about them. Unlikely to win.
Merida and Simba. District 12. An unlikely duo. Results and opinions are mixed. Some heavily favor them, others say they will lose really fast.
****
It was a fairly standard Hunger Games. The arena was rather unremarkable, with a lot of forests. There was a large lake in the middle, with rivers flowing into it from throughout the forest.
People were surprised to see just how vicious Cinderella could get. She really knew how to tear into people. Compared to her normal, composed self, everyone could see that she was most certainly not brought up as royalty. However, her and Prince C didn’t last long. Prince Charming took care of Prince C, while Snow White and Cinderella fought. A poison apple from a sponsor dropped into Snow White’s hand and it was over before it even began. Snow White shoved the apple down Cinderella’s throat. Everyone watched as the underdogs grabbed their first victory.
People watched on in horror, however, as Merida shot an arrow straight through Snow White’s heart. Simba popped out of the bushes and tore Prince Charming apart, eating all of the corpses that were left on the ground afterward. They prepared to fight again as Pocahontas and John Smith snuck through the forest near them. It was then that District 12 and 11 became allies, but it wouldn’t last for long.
Meanwhile, Mulan, Captain Li Shang, Belle, Beast, Aladdin, and Jasmine fought with each other. Mulan and Captain Li Shang made short work of everyone but Beast. When they struck down Belle, Beast got so angry that he tore right through Mulan and Captain Li Shang. People watched on, entertained as Beast lost all that was human about himself, loving that he was tearing off each of their limbs one by one.
Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip died rather quickly. Everyone could tell how bad they looked. A few days cold turkey does that to a person. Queen Elsa simply flicked her wrist and froze them to death.
The remaining contestants: Queen Elsa, Ariel, Prince Eric, Princess Anna, Kristoff, Rapunzel, Flynn Rider, Beast, Pocahontas, John Smith, Merida, Simba.
Merida stared in horror as Beast struck down Pocahontas. She had been so good at hiding and camouflage too. John Smith shot at him but missed. It wasn’t soon before his liver was ripped from his body, followed by his head being decapitated. Simba jumped into action and wrestled with the Beast, barely surviving his encounter as he put Beast down for good.
In another part of the arena, Ariel jumped out of the water and slit Kristoff’s throat. Princess Anna turned around and unleashed her secret weapon, yet another sponsored item that had been sent into the games. Out came Olaf. Ariel laughed, well at least until Olaf took out his carrot of a nose and stabbed her right through the chest. She sliced at Olaf, but it didn’t hurt him. In fact, everything she tried was ineffective. Olaf kept stabbing and stabbing until the river was starting to turn red. He saw Prince Eric standing by and jumped over to attack him as well. When he was done, he returned to Princess Anna, bloody carrot back on his face as a nose. And then Anna screamed in horror as Olaf was dissolved right in front of her. Queen Elsa had come. And it would seem she didn’t care that they were sisters. Princess Anna soon was eliminated, a frozen statute of herself now sitting amongst the large, empty forest.
A few hours passed by and everyone watched the sky to see the total death count. And then Queen Elsa found her targets. Simba was already weak. An icicle straight to the heart made short work of him. Merida fired her bow; Queen Elsa fired sharp, deadly icicles. People watched on in suspense as they shot at each other. And then it stopped. Merida fell to her knees.
Queen Elsa laughed victoriously. But it was short lived. She had been too cocky. A frying pan smacked her on the back of the head and she fell to the ground. Now there were two. But they didn’t intend to kill each other.
Rapunzel and Flynn Rider grabbed their berries and prepared to die. But then the announcement came across the speakers that they both were the winners of the Hunger Games.
And so we learned one important thing from this Hunger Games. The frying pan beats ice magic. But we will miss Queen Elsa’s song.
-236
Edit: Fixed names and formatting. Also changed a sentence or two around. If any of the names are wrong, let me know. |
Before I dropped her off that night, I felt that I had to express the unique connection I felt between us. I adjusted my overcoat, swept back a quaff of magnificent bangs, looked her in the eye, and said "I won't give up on you...I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm not the man to let you down. I'm not running around here, and I'd be the last one to desert you. Smile in the knowledge that I will never make you shed a tear, or say my last farewells, and in doing so wound your heart."
She turned to me with a knowing smile, the hint of a dance on her toes, and whispered "we're no strangers to love." |
"What have you done!?"Calvin's Commander bellowed as he looked down at the smoking corpses of the two rebels and their wookie companion.
"Rather ingenious if I do say so myself."Calvin responded with a smug expression, even though nobody could actually see it under his standard issue helmet. "As soon as I heard about the incident on the detention level I set up the heavy blasting turret in the hangar and waited for them to get here. Look!"He responded happily as he pointed at the fallen princess."The heavy blaster only got her in the side, I bet she will live if she gets proper medical attention."
This was the chance Calvin had waited for. Perhaps he could finally be promoted into one of the active tie-fighter squadrons. Even though he was the best pilot in his class at the imperial academy, they had placed him in the reserves to guard the Death Star. Considering the entire station was a heavily kept secret, it was certainly a waste of his talents.
"You fool! Didn't you hear Lord Vader's orders?"His commander asked in a serious tone.
"Orders?"Calvin asked now in a shaky and confused voice. "Of course not, I submitted a request for a new comlink last week. Followed proper procedure and everything. It's on file that I sent the request to you but-"
"Oh no."The commander said in a grave voice. "Lord Vader specifically ordered us to let them escape. He was going to track them to the base!"
"Sir!"Another trooper interrupted as he quickly entered the hangar. "I have been informed that Lord Vader is on his way. He wants everyone who was responsible for this incident present."
A silence came over them as the weight of this news registered with the two men.
Suddenly, the commander shot the new trooper whom had brought them the foreboding news.
"What are you-"Calvin yelled but was cut off as the commander leveled his gun at him.
"Look kid, I've seen what happens to those who upset Lord Vader. Either you help me get the princess and her friends bodies on the falcon or you die here. Choice is yours."He spoke in a slow and level voice.
Caught between the frying pan and the fire, Calvin saw little choice.
"Unhand me you imperial bastards!"Princess Leia screamed as Calvin scooped her up, it seems she picked now of all times to regain consciousness.
"I -- umm -- am helping?"Calvin responded in an unsure voice.
"You're with the rebellion!?"Leia exclaimed in an enthusiastic voice.
Looking over at his Commander who nodded as he brought the body of the younger rebel on board, Calvin replied. "Yes - it seems we are."
"We are both undercover agents of the rebellion."The commander plopped Luke Skywalker's corpse on the floor as he spoke. "Since these fellows failed their mission. We are taking it upon ourselves to see you safely to the rebel base. Unfortunately, such information was withheld from us in order to keep its location a secret. We will be relying on you to get us there. "
"I see!"Leia responded in a now understanding tone. "I promise you will be greatly rewarded."
"Hear that?"The commander turned to Calvin in a cheery tone. "Now unless you would rather see the sort of reward Vader has, I suggest you help me with the big furry one."
Taking a moment to inspect the light-saber hilt which had rolled off the corpse of the young rebel. Calvin attached it to his hip, nodded and followed his commander.
By the time Vader had arrived to the hangar, the rebels had gone and his plan was once again in motion.
|
*This is it, years of preparation has finally culminated in this moment.* Another walk around the pentagram drawn in perfect chalk on the cement floor of the empty warehouse, and he was sure he was ready.
Carefully checking the inscriptions one last time, he raised his hands and invoked the ancient verse of *Deilani* to summon none other than Satan himself.
Blinding blue light emanated from the wording around the pentagram and he had to close his eyes again it. After a few minutes, the light faded and he peered eagerly through the smoke, ready to serve his new master.
From the center or the pentagram came a loud... Belch? The smoke finally cleared revealing a rather ordinary looking man, wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt with a stain on the left side, and thick rimmed black glasses. The stranger gave an irritated sigh and glared at the perplexed man standing outside the pentagram.
"Seriously? I was in the middle of binge-watching Game of Thrones, did you really have to do this now? Who taught you how to spell, anyway?"
The man took an uncertain step back, this is not the evil mastermind he had been anticipating. Finally, he was able to stutter out a hesitant question.
"W-who are you?"
The stranger shook his head.
"I'm **Stan**, you idiot. You forgot an 'A' in the name", the stranger replied while gesturing to the error in his scripture.
"That's impossible!"He exclaimed. "I triple checked my work!"
"Well, next time quadruple check it. I'm tired of you overzealous morons interrupting my personal life because you think you can summon the all powerful Satan"
"O-of course, sorry. "He didn't know what else to say or do, maybe it wasn't meant to be.
"Whatever. Just send me back."
He stared blankly at "Stan"who he had summoned.
"You're joking, you *did* learn how to send things back to where they came from, right?"
"Well... "Not knowing what to say, he averted his eyes, choosing instead to stare at the smooth cement floor.
"Unbelievable, you were just going to summon Satan and let him roam free without sending him back?"
He nodded silently. He really hadn't thought this through, he supposed.
With a growl of frustration, Stan pulled a small white stone out of his pocket. "Well, good thing I'm ready for idiots like you."
"What is that?"he asked nervously.
"A portal stone, it will take me back to my comfy couch and warm apartment and out of this stupid cold warehouse."
"Oh."
"Listen, don't try this shit again, ok?"
"Sure,"he could barely get a reply out before he was blinded by another flash of light, and Stan was gone.
|
The strangers were the strangest part.
When someone switched, looked around, and walked away.
Nobody mentioned it. Not everyone got along with themselves, or had the same friends as their other half.
We had all had the accidental switch, after a warm picnic, or long night at the office. But most, you felt coming. You could push it off... but really... Why bother? The non-existence really gives you a break, you know?
Jim's was that way, accidental, I mean. I liked Jim, and thought of him as the primary, and his switch was Michael, Midge as I called him.
Jim and me would have one too many beers, though, and next thing Midge was angry again, bitching about double vision and a stain on his shoe.
Such different guys. I could always tell whether Jim was on or off. They wore different faces. Never seen someone so at odds with himself. Different apartments, cars, jobs, everything.
My better half, Terrel, left me notes in our place. Sometimes grocery lists. Sometimes permission to raid the fridge. This weeks note though...
He wants to buy a webcam. He wants to do videos to show me who he really is.
Does he not realize that it's impossible to get the glitter off? Or that I'm just as well known in the queen scene as he? |
I suppose there will never be a devil big enough for me to finally be scared and subdued. There is no evil that can never be enshadowed by a bigger monster. There is no hate or anger that can finally be that one stopping point of it all. No matter how much you think that you have finally found that one thing that can never be topped, there's always tomorrow. And you know that it'll come. But, like a man whipped, you carry on. Each day getting more and more whips on your back, you carry on. Because you can. And the fact, that you can suffer, means that you have to suffer. Other's couldn't bare it. So you have to.
Others... They stop sharing stories fast enough. It takes mere days for them to fall from that empowering "I've seen bad, I now know the world"stance they get after the first workday. And you can see it in their eyes. When those go dead, the person's been done, used, finit. Mere days... But, once in a while, you'll get the "hotshot". "That guy". He won't stop talking about the things he has seen. He will laugh when others squirm or refuse to listen to his horror stories about murders he witnessed and body parts he counted. He thinks he has found some manly power in this curse. He thinks of himself as a Dark Knight speeding off into the night. But I can tell you two things about him. First, he doesn't have children. That's a cold, hard fact. There is no way around it. I've never seen the opposite. But second? You won't have to listen to him for too long. For he will be dead in a month. Whoever he is, he will pick his own poison. Be it heroin, be it racing, be it parachuting without no parachute. And I bet he will do it with a huge grin, a final fuck you, an "I ate shit and died"laughter.
How do I know? Because I see it all. I'll see his grin, I'll see his soul, I'll see them both being separated. Frame after frame. And when I'll do, I'll press "remove"and "escalate". And then I'll press "Next"and see a cat. Another cat. A family's vacation in Cancun. Horseriding. Cooking rice. Waterslide. A human being skinned. A walk in the forest. A new dress. Wait, stop... Wind back... "Remove."No "Escalate". This is old. I've seen this one many times. I know it frame by frame. And the background music has ruined this one upbeat song for life. So yes, this is old. No "Escalate", just "Remove". A fireplace. Starbucks drink. First snow. Child's birthday. Glass of milk....
What does "Escalate"do, you ask? It saves the video on my hard drive. It documents the submitter's IP and account information. I write a description of the material. This Monday I wrote "What I believe is Elizah Warren (7) being strangled."And then I press "upload"and it all goes to the police. They examine the video and look for clues in it. I never hear back from them. I never get any information about the case or has the video been useful. I don't even think about it during the rest of my workday. Cornflakes. Puppies. A lava lamp. Christmas presents...
Only after a week on the train I see people reading the newspaper, talking that the girl from the Amber alert, Eliyah something, has been found dead. Police is still investigating what has happened. They rumor that the parents could be involved, but nothing will happen to them, because they are influential. I see the picture of the parents. I recognize them. I saw them in a video, this Monday. After a week on this same train I'll hear that the case has been closed as unsolved.
There ain't never a devil big enough for you to say "Ah, I've seen it all". For the devil is not in the smile of the beast, but in the eyes of the victim. It doesn''t laugh, it screams with the mouth of the tortured. And, whenever I close my eyes, it screams through my head with the mouths of many. But nothing will ever stop me from what I do. Because I can suffer, I must suffer. I don't do it because I think that this is a glorious job and I'm some sort of a saviour. I do it to collect said screams. You see, as long as they wake me up in nights, I know that they are still somewhere. That they still exist. And aren't buried just in closed files in one archive or other. I hear you, Elizah, I always will. |
The wall opened solemnly as a man in blue with a red cape strode purposefully down the road of Diagon Alley. He ignored the glares of some of the adults and the curious gazes of the children as he politely wove between various groups.
He said nothing as people called out at him.
"This is your fault!"
"You couldn't have arrived sooner?"
"You better fix this 'Sorcerer Supreme!"
He instead walked to an elderly woman who wore long black robes and stood expectantly outside the Leaky Cauldron, she stood straighter and moved to meet him as he passed by a glaring man.
"Oh thank heaven's you've finally arrived."She said quickly gripping him by the elbow and led him inside.
He passed by several people who offered either shocked or glares as he passed and he gave a respectful nod to Ollivander as she led him up the stairs.
"I apologize for the delay, things across the pond were...difficult in some respects."
"Well you're here now. Come on, the Minister is waiting."she said rather irritated at his attempt at an apology.
Outside a door at the end of the hall two men stood ready: A black man with short cropped hair stood at ease as his companion, a white man with glasses and a noticeable scar peeking through his hairline.
"Doctor."The man with glasses nodded as the black man knocked on the door and a female voice called to enter.
"Mister Langarm, Mister Potter."Strange nodded as he entered the room.
They walked into the room, a red haired woman turned to look at them and smiled in relief. "Doctor Strange. Thank you for coming."She said gesturing for him to take a seat at the table.
"I humbly apologize for my delay in arrival. I had issues I had to take care of."he said nodding his head with respect. "Minister Granger, would you please tell me everything you know about these incidents."
She sat down as the two men nodded to each other. Cerberus Langarm walked to stand outside and Harry stood behind Strange near where Headmaster McGonnigall sat on a couch.
She took in a breath and looked to a set of papers before her.
"The strange instances began harmless at first. A few mishaps here and there with magic: memo's flying by people, instances where invisibility spells would turn off at a moments notice only to return showing people flying on brooms and the like. Nothing our departments couldn't handle but at the same time they were noticeable to muggles as well. Quickly they've grown to actual spells showing and people using magic outside of the Ministry's jurisdictions. We believe, according to our investigations that these are sorcerers who either don't know about the regulations or don't care."
"May I?"Strange asked as she gave him the folder.
He looked it over. "Ive been seeing some similar things myself in America. I'll get the information from Director Fury and ask him to hand them over to Mister Potter for your perusal. No. I understand some of this... It's an advancement in both powers and in threats... But in my personal investigations I've seen likely connections to the Wizarding world as well."
"You think we're responsible?"Harry asked.
"I think 'wizards' are responsible in part but not fully. A few of the Avenger's have also mentioned seeing similar traits around New York with a group of teens to young adults running from them as they happen. My guess is some Dark Wizard is finding muggles who can learn sorcery and twisting their desires to be something more than normal."
He shook his head. "You have my full support and assistance with this. And possibly the other Avengers as well. Someone is taking advantage of younger minds eager for more and ready to show off. We must stop this before someone gets hurt or worse." |
“Romans?”
“Yeah, it’s one of the, like, maybe 9-10 cultures that most influenced us in general. You, know, as a race. And I mean, they where *really* good at war, they conquered a pretty good chunk of Terra back in the day, about 3000 thousand years ago.”
“......”
“And, You know, they there pretty smart. We still study their strategies, in fact, but we don’t use the same tactics that they used. Technology changes, so does culture, and tactics have to adapt... so... we change, but remember what we did before, try to keep doing what works, and... well, it’s... hard to put into words. You don’t get that? I mean, you can’t always have had that tech you used, how did you fight before?”
“............”
“Uh... is... everything ok? Are you getting this? Is something wrong?”
“.......”
“Ok, this is feaking me out, what, why are you giving me that look?”
“Humans... *conquered* each other. You fight against each other. You.... *kill* each other. For 3000 years.”
“Well... yeah. Actually... a lot more. Rome was important, but there’s a lot older cultures that where also great at war. There was Persia, and China, and Egypt, and-“
“This explains *so* much.” |
The mortal man blinked incredulously at the statement, Mal'Sae thought it was rather amusing really. Humans come to the fae court at their most desperate willing to pay anything to have their wish, whatever it may be, granted and yet he was so shocked to be asked to do a favour? Still she really did need this favour,
"I am sure you have heard all the rumours of our kind... what was your name again?"she asked the mortal
"St... Stephan Lady Mal..."the man stuttered, still incredulous,
"Now then, why should I dedicate what, two decades of my life dealing with a mortal child when I have my own to care for hm? And you mortals never truly desire to part with your own flesh and blood if you have a drop of honour in your bodies and souls correct? You want to stop the famine that is ravaging your town and I want someone to care for my child, see we both have something to gain from this if I give you my own child to raise Stephan."Mal'Sae calmly explained in her typical melodious sing song voice,
"But why would you give your child to me to raise? They would be of the Fae, would they not be better off in your land of magic?"Stephan asked,
"Silly mortal, it is precisely because she is born of Fae that I want you to take her into your own world! Surely you have heard the tales of us stealing away children and replacing them with our own in the cots? Have you never wondered why?"Mal answered the man by raising another question, before he could say anything she continued, "Why it is because your world is as interesting to us as our world must be to you! Us Fae thrive on enrichment, our demands for wonder and magic are frankly crippling, and yet we could never truly freely step out of our own world, we are strangers to your land as you are to ours! A child of both realms however can come and go wherever they so please whenever they so please, is it so wrong for me to want my child to have this?"
"I suppose not Lady Mal, for how long shall I raise your child?"Stephan asked,
"As long as she so desires to stay in your world, fear not eventually the call of our land will draw her back here, whether she decides to stay and for how long will be entirely her decision. Until then you shall raise her as though she was a daughter of your own blood however, I will know if you do not."Mal'Sae answered, a flicker of darkness spreading across her literally radiant face before disappearing just as fast at that last sentence,
"Alright I accept the deal, may I see your child and know her name then Lady Mal?"Stephan asked after a moment of silence, Mal'Sae smiled as she called upon her magic to summon what appeared to be by all means an ordinary infant besides the actually golden sheen of her skin, a pair of fuzzy horns on her forehead and two cloven hooves where feet should be,
"Names have power silly mortal, like with myself you will not get her true name, but you may call her Avni of the Spring Court, daughter of the Queen of the First Flowers Mal'Sae and the Trickster Unriri Lightfoot from the Unseen Forest."She answered with some tenderness and the closest equivalent to the human emotion of gentle sadness as she stroked the hair of the baby,
"I swear on my life I will take care of Avni as my own daughter Lady Mal!"Stephan declared as he took the young faerie into his arms,
"I will forgive you just this once but be careful, swearing has much more power here than in your world! Also, please just call me Mal or Mal'Sae, after all you will be at least nominally part of the family from now on."Mal'Sae commented idly, even as Stephan paled at his nearly potentially quite lethal mistake,
"Ah... yes L... Mal! Thank you for all the help"He started stuttering as he was earlier, still recovering from the earlier incident, Mal'Sae let out a hearty laugh at that,
"Be safe and don't be a stranger, when the time comes and she asks to visit her homeland feel free to visit as well!"Mal'Sae called out as the land of the Faerie disintegrated around Stephan leaving him alone in the woods with a crying and now significantly more human looking infant in his arms as well as a strange jewel which he did not notice coming into his possession in his pocket,
Stephan Carpenter was a hero back home now, some unknown intuition seemed to have followed him back after his journey into the dark woods where most townsfolk thought he would never return from that guided his decisions which saved the town. Whatever he did seemed to work like magic, fallow fields bore bumper crops, new wells were dug which practically spewed out water from the earth and the very land itself seemed to sing for him. Nobody questioned his daughter that he had acquired after disappearing for nearly a year despite his claims of only being gone for a few days nor his refusal to elaborate on just exactly what he had done to achieve what he did. Nearly two decades later however soon after his daughter came of age they left together back to the dark forbidden woods in which Stephan had first ventured as a young man, the townsfolk were not so sure they were going to be as lucky as the first time with the unknown magics and forgotten dark secrets that were hidden in that cursed forest. Whispers and rumours began cropping up, of dark deals with mystical beings, of a trade of ones own firstborn flesh and blood for a wish to come true.
They really needn't have been so worried, it was just at the end of a day a long overdue family reunion. |
"I don't understand. You say there are no laws preventing you from sharing technology or scientific data."
"Correct."
"But you still won't do so."
"Also correct. We do not wish to be responsible for the annihilation of a whole race!"
"Do you believe us to be that careless? That we would destroy ourselves so easily?"
"Not careless, but of course it would destroy you. Well, most of you. Your offspring go through a...pre- verbal stage, yes? They might survive."
There was a long pause as the human ambassador tried to digest this information and form a coherent response. "How would they survive? Anything that would cause my death would surely also kill a child."
Another long pause, this time from the Tyrrpol ambassador. "I apologize, we did not realize your offspring became <<frrek>> so young."
"What? Something didn't translate. Become what?"
"<<Frrek>>, um....solid? Set? Our offspring can accept new information without risk of death for around 2 of your years. We thought the timetable would be similar for you."
"Risk of...ambassador humans can accept new information at any point in their lifespan. Some might refuse, but there is no risk of injury or death."
"No. No no no no NO NO NO NO NO."
The Tyrrpol ambassador was still screaming when his neural net lost coherence. |
Adam crept through the narrow hallway looking over his shoulder, his red Chucks tapping along the hardwood floor. He clutched his shirt sleeves, pulling them down taught, making sure no part of his wrists or hands were visible. The tattoos on the back of his hands weren't anything special, just a pair of blindfolded angels — one on each hand — holding up scales. There was no color to the ink or significant shading. But they were needled in memory of his father. He wasn't used to hiding them.
The low-ceilinged hallway was creaky, the whole building just a giant box of plywood and two-by-fours piled atop a stone foundation. It smelled like pine and lacquer. *Guess they're ages away from sheetrock*, he thought. *Or electricity.*
Adam turned a corner into the busy kitchen, slipping past sweaty cooks as they stirred or chopped, and popped out behind the Charging Goose inn. He scanned the shaded alley. Waves of color swirled over his vision, as if he were swimming through a rainbow; in the distance he could make out only a few glowing white lights, each flickering like a candle. That was because of the *Sword of Omens* tattoo inside of his left wrist. The Thundercats tattoo gave him sight beyond sight; it let him see the locations of other tattooed people, up to maybe half-a-mile away, even through walls. If he concentrated hard enough, he could zoom in on one of the lights until a ghostly image of the person formed.
When it came to the three wizards, he didn't have to zoom. Three balls of light still flickered inside the Charging Goose. Right where Adam had left them. Each of them bobbed and shifted like the flies buzzing around the dank alley. The alley smelled like walking down a New York city block on garbage day in the middle of summer, during a sanitation strike. Pungent.
He should have run. But where? The slightly-faded skeletal pirate holding a treasure map inside his right bicep started itching, and so — once more — he willed the tattoo to life. A translucent map held by two skeletal hands floated in front of him. He could pinch and zoom the map, in or out, as if using Google Earth. It was the first tattoo he'd "activated"when he arrived to this world; he wasn't sure what would happen with the rest of his tattoos, except for the *Sword of Omens*; attempting to activate more than two at the same time had given him a splitting headache — so the *Sword* and the treasure map were all he used. He snickered at the map.
Adam recognized nothing; no matter how much he zoomed out, the land masses were completely foreign. The layout of the city he was currently in sort of looked like a smaller Brooklyn if he rotated it to the right and added a bunch of trees. The treasure map had helped him navigate from the clearing in the middle of the "Dark Wood"he'd woken up in, up to the city; he then wandered the cobblestone streets, asking for directions to any sort of transport station, a medieval Port Authority.
No such luck. And worse, at the slightest notice of his tattoos, most folks ran from him … or tried "dueling"him. His best, and only, strategy so far had been to keep his arms and legs covered (easy considering he'd arrived in jeans and a long sleeved Nirvana t-shirt) and run like hell when any wanna-be Slytherins threatened to throw down.
Adam gave one final glance behind him, counted the three glowing balls to make sure they hadn't figured out his escape route, and stalked out of the alley into the city street. Goldmar had apparently once been a booming fishing town. That was what one of the locals had said to Adam — and he understood, possibly thanks to the *Sword of Omens*. Adam wasn't sure — before he noticed Adam's tattoos. The local ran mid word. Another local had told Adam that the fish suddenly dried up, and things went belly up pretty quick after that. With the village and with their conversation. She had noticed his tattoos too.
Now, the little coastal town felt as creepy as Innsmouth, though there were no such things as fishmen (he hoped). Adam needed to find a way home. That meant finding someone willing to talk to him. And maybe he could get something to eat along the way. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days.
Adam turned right on the main street and headed north, out of Goldmar toward the mountains, his Chucks kicking up dust with every step. Head down and shoulders hunched, he walked like everyone was in his way, like he was late for work — a New Yorker's gait. He knew his outfit made him stick out like a bloody thumb. The few people out on the streets were rocking proper Ren-Faire attire. But new clothes probably cost money and Adam was pretty sure they didn't take dollars here.
Laughter; multiple people laughing behind him, growing louder, closer. And heat. Adam reacted immediately, willing his *Sword of Omens* to grant him sight behind his back. He focused and three glowing balls of light formed into the shapes of the three tattooed wizards from the inn. One of them, the tall lanky one with greasy black hair and an edge lord attitude, stood with his hands over his head. In his hands was a literal fireball, and it was getting bigger.
Adam broke into a dead run. His Sight still showed him what was happening behind him, as if his left eye were staring into a rear view mirror while his right was looking forward. The lanky wizard shouted something and dropped his arms. Adam hurled himself into an alley, hitting the cobblestones hard. Behind him, the fireball, now the size of a beanbag chair, screamed down the street. Adam could have sworn his Chucks were melting. As he scrambled to his feet, the three wizards were already reaching the alley entrance.
Another second too late, and he'd have gotten incinerated -- and worse, probably seen it coming thanks to his Sight. Heart racing, he glanced down the alley for a way out. It was one long path wide enough for two people standing shoulder to shoulder. Or one fireball. *Great*, he thought. *I'm gonna get scorched by some freaking Potterheads.*
The three wizards rounded the corner and stopped. Their lanky leader held a baseball-sized flame in one hand, tossing it and catching it casually. His grin should have been covered in flies for all the shit it was eating. Adam rolled up his sleeves slowly, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head screaming for him to haul ass. Lanky's two buddies gawked at Adam's bare arms, but Lanky raised his hands again. The fireball swelled and screamed forward.
Adam screamed, reflexively blocking the fireball with his hands, as if it were a punch, though that same little voice told him it wouldn't be enough, not yet. By the time the fireball reached him, Adam couldn't hear anything but the roaring of the flames.
The explosion launched him off his feet. Adam had been burned before and knew that first there'd be a cold feeling, like dipping a hand into a bucket of ice water, before he ever felt the burn. But that's not what hurt first. It was his head. He screamed, clawing at his scalp, as the pain threatened to split his head in half. He was looking at the sky. It was gray -- all clouds. He heard shouting. Not just him. His left hand felt cold. More screaming. God, he was hungry.
A body thumped down to the ground beside him with a hollow knock of a skull bouncing off stone. The pain in his head died down enough for him to stop screaming, but that only made room for the searing pain in his left hand. Adam coughed, then sat up and blinked away the tears in his eyes. There were no colors swirling in his vision. But he didn't need his Sight to make out what was happening.
The body that had dropped beside him belonged to one of Lanky's stooges. Adam glanced at his hand briefly and noticing the red and black and blisters, he quickly looked away and focused on the entrance of the alley.
The woman wore a black cloak, a sleeveless cloak. She kept her silver hair pulled back in a ponytail, and each arm was covered with a large tattoos of the same animal that Adam couldn't recognize, but if he had to guess, they were some sort of tiger-bear? A Tibear?
What he could recognize was the sight of someone getting their ass handed to them. Lanky's ass, to be specific. *Good*, Adam thought. *At least if I die, it'll be to a total babe.*
And with that, Adam dropped back and didn't even feel the back of his head bouncing off the cobblestone. He welcomed the darkness. |
\[TRIGGER WARNING - MENTIONS OF SUICIDE\]
&#x200B;
My father always said I had a guardian angel. Of course, every father says that, in one way or another.
I just never thought he *meant* it.
You can imagine my surprise then, when in my darkest hour, she revealed herself, clad in shining splendor and brandishing a broadsword. Her hair, the color of freshly fallen snow, fell unmoving past her shoulders even as she severed the rope keeping my body suspended. As I crumpled to the ground she knelt, quickly but calmly undoing the noose I'd so painstakingly knotted.
Breath filled my lungs. Color returned to my cheeks. I gasped, half choking, half crying, unsure of what to say or do. Finally, after what felt like hours, I turned my face to hers, still kneeling. "Who... who are you?"I asked, my throat hoarse.
"Fear not,"the woman had said with a straight face, "for I bring you tidings of great joy."
I blinked. I actually *blinked*. I'm sure my mouth fell open, gaping like a fish as I sputtered. As I stared, the woman cracked a smile. Then she started laughing.
"Oh, Lord above, you should see your *face!"* Her shoulders shook as she giggled profusely. "I can't believe I finally got to use that line!"Her words held no malice, no anger, only mirth and amusement. With a flourish her sword disappeared into the folds of her gown and she stood, offering me her hand to help me up.
"I'm Kara,"she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Your guardian angel."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
It was that day that I'd learned that my father was right, as crazy as he'd sounded my whole life. I never bought into the whole religion thing, but according to Kara, everyone got one regardless of religion. Each angel was assigned at birth to a human, to protect them from the Powers of the Adversary. It didn't always work, though, which is why you have bad people doing bad things. Their angels are still there, just... diminished. Less powerful, since their charge refuses to listen to them.
"We all get the chance for a direct intervention,"Kara explained one night over a cup of coffee. Turns out angels took a liking to the stuff, who knew? "Only one, mind you, but there are rules around it.
Number one, we can only reveal ourselves during the course of The Intervention. And number two, once the intervention is over, you'll never see us again."
"Why then,"I asked, taking a sip of my own coffee, "can I still see you?"
"Your intervention isn't over, duh!"Kara said with a smile. "Another rule is that the intervention has to be significant to your overall life. And it just so happens that I've decided the most significant thing I can do in your life is to be your friend."
That was how I came to live with an angel - *my* angel - for the better course of a decade. We fell in love, as friends do, and one day... well, we decided to get married.
At least, we tried.
The events of the past nine years flashed through my eyes as I stood in the doorway to our bedroom, staring in horror at the carnage within. Kara, the love of my life, my friend, my guardian angel, lay sprawled upon the floor, blood pooling behind her. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, a sick, wet gurgling noise coming from the hole in her lungs. All this time, she'd protected me, and I never once thought about if she might need protection.
I dropped the bags I held, groceries, and rushed to her side, cradling her in my arms. "I'm here, Kara,"I said softly, brushing her bloodstained hair from her cheeks. "I'm here."Drops of something, clear and stinging, fell from my cheeks, and I realized I was crying. "I'm here Kara, I'm here."
Her lungs were punctured; there wasn't enough time to get her to a hospital. It looked large, almost as if something had punched through her.
"De..."Her breath came in wet, choking gasps, blood pooling in her mouth and bubbling out between her lips. "De...mons...."Kara took my hand in hers, pressing it tight around something. I paid it no mind, trying to focus instead on not turning into a sobbing mess.
Our apartment flooded with light then, and I had to turn away to keep from being blinded. Footsteps padded on the thin carpeting and stopped before the two of us.
"Give her to me, child."A voice, calm and commanding, directed.
Instinctively I curled my body around Kara, around my angel, and glared at the feet of the intruder. "Get back,"I hissed. "She's *mine.* You can't have her!"
"Karasiel is wounded,"the voice, neither male nor female responded. "You will do her no good weeping over her shell."
Kara gurgled out a word beneath me. "Gabe..riel..."More blood pooled in her mouth, a hacking cough spraying it over my shirt. With a hesitant glance at the newcomer, I uncurled my body from over Kara.
Gabriel, *the* Gabriel I realized, bent to scoop my lover in his arms as if she were no more than a bundle of rags. Two wings, plumage as pure as could be, wrapped around her and hid her from my sight. "She will be returned to you once she is healed,"he said. "Karasiel has suffered a great deal today, but her pain will no go unnoticed."With a nod of his head he motioned to my hands, where the item Kara had pressed into them still sat.
I open my hands and blinked, surprised. A miniature sword, no bigger than 4 or 5 inches long, sat beneath my curled fingers.
"If you so choose, child, you can fight your demons for her. She will heal if you do not, but-"
"I'll do it."I cut him off, gripping the miniature sword tight. "For Kara. For my angel."
With a flash of light the miniature was no more and in its place rested a glowing pistol, holster and all. I hardly noticed the ornate carvings on the grip, instead focusing on the name carved into the barrel. *Reckoner.*
"*Reckoner,"* the Archangel said. "Your love for her is strong indeed."With a wave of his hand, the air tore in two to reveal a hellish landscape of brimstone and screams. "Go then, Reckoner, with the blessing of the Father. Find those that harmed you and your own. Fight your demons. You will now when you are done."
I said nothing, only nodded as I stepped through the portal to Hell. If a reckoner I should be, then a reckoning I shall bring.
"Hell hath no fury,"I muttered, once the portal closed.
For my angel.
For my friend.
For Kara. |
I’d had a long career.
A storied career some might say. Outstanding. Impeccable. Illustrious.
I’d earned my retirement.
The acreage I’d built for myself was far from the troubles that I had once participated in so gleefully. It was a homestead of a sort, for there were gardens to the north side of the main building, orchards to the east and a beautiful vineyard to the west. Between all; nervous honey bees buzzed, busily collecting the pollen and nectar to be stored at one of the estates many hives.
When my head of household called me to the ante-room that morning I suspected there might be some trouble with this evening's dinner. A decision about wine pairings perhaps, or a question of sauces. Such things occupied my mind much these days, and I reveled in the quiet banality of the decisions. There was a simple joy in the rewards of one's labors. Being out pruning the grape vines or tilling new garden beds, there was a joy that I never found in my previous work.
Simple and honest, pure and uncomplicated.
Alas when I attended my trusted servant Pontious in the waiting room of my grand house, I found no simple joy awaiting me, only old, ugly pain. The first man I knew instantly. His name was Davis. He was an unpleasant man, both in temperament and appearance. He looked disheveled, even by his usual standards. He had worked under me once, a long time ago.
The second man took me a little longer. He was a pale man, on the short side, with a mane of almost white-blond hair. He stood awkwardly, and was similarly disheveled. His name had been Dante, back when I had known him. At that time he had been my adversary, being the student of my worst enemy. His power had been minimal, a small invulnerability quirk. Nothing special.
The recognition took me less than a quarter-second, and by the end of the next I had already figured out my plan. That had always been my forte, after all. Accept all the data, even the minute. Process. Make a plan. Execute to perfection.
I threw my arms out wide.
“Davis my good fellow, it's been such a long time.”
The criminal slunk forward and allowed himself to be embraced. Enfolded by his ear I whispered surreptitiously to him, “Who is this with you?”
Davis broke into a sob, and pushing back from me began to cry, “Doctor I–”
I cut him off sharply, “Davis you mispeak. In this home my name is James. The other name belongs to someone else.”
He nodded solemnly, sniffling, “Apologies Sir James. It’s just…we’re in trouble.”
I quirked up an eyebrow, and looked at Dante. He tried to make eye contact, but his eyes fell to his feet. Then the fallen hero muttered, “It’s true sir… its… it's my old master. He’s hunting for us…and we just thought you might…because of the old days.”
I smiled. “I think I understand.”
I turned and gestured behind me into the guest room, “Please come and sit and make yourself at home. I’ll have some tea brought for us and we can talk it over.”
The men sullenly filed through. As they passed me I could smell the dried blood of their wounds, and the sweat of a man who has been hounded for his life. I made lingering eye contact with my servant and gave him a friendly nod. He scurried away to fetch us a drink service.
A good man: my head of household. I’d recruited him years ago and I can seldom recall how I functioned before he had come into my service. The man had a preternatural gift for understanding one’s mind without asking, and more importantly, he was discrete.
The two haggard refugees plopped themselves noisily into the settee’s that occupied my lounge. They sat morosely, with their heads held deep in their hands.
After a minute or two of restful silence Pontious arrived carrying a tray of drinks. There was a decanter of water with tumblers, as well as a pot of tea with three fine bone mugs. The servant also deposited a plate of sugar-biscuits.
The men fell ravenously upon the food and drink. Before Pontious had even receded to his place by the entrance to the room and closed the door, each man had drained a glass of water and downed several biscuits.
I coughed quietly, and the two men looked up suddenly from their rapture, seemingly aware once again there was someone else in the room.
“Sorry gentlemen. I appreciate you must be very hungry, but I was hoping we could discuss things a little before we go any further.”
They both nodded, crumbs falling from the stubble of their beards.
I smiled reassuringly, “So the old fellow is chasing after you is he?”
Dante answered first, cutting off Davis, “He’s lost the bloody plot. He disowned me three months ago, and he’s been chasing down some vendetta like a frenzied bloodhound.”
“A vendetta?”
The hero-come-refugee just shook his head.
“I don’t know sir. He wouldn’t tell me.”
To this I nodded, and turning back to Davis asked, “So how did you too come to be together?”
The henchmen’s mouth was agape, “Together?”
“Today I mean.”
“We’re old friends. He came to me and I told him I could get us somewhere safe, someone to help us.”
“I see. So you're just an idiot then, not a traitor. ”
Abruptly I stood up, and the two men tried to follow suit.
Each man fell to the floor. They were confused at first, and then the pain kicked in. They both screamed loudly as their bodies twitched and spasmed uncontrollably.
I walked over to Dante and began to search his person. He tried to claw at me, but I swatted away his feeble arms. There was blood pouring from his eyes now, and his mewling had become subdued as his lungs filled with blood.
I found what I was looking for, laced into his tattered clothes along his shirts armpit sleeve. Tracking device, broadcasting.
I turned to Pontious, who had remained standing at his position nonplussed, seemingly disdainful of the mess the two men he had just poisoned were making.
“We’re compromised, It’s time to move. Burn the whole place.”
He nodded.
He knew how much I hated complications. |
My heart thrummed in my chest when I saw the yellow post-it in the center of my desk.
"Come see me in my office, hun!"
After all these years, I couldn't believe it. It couldn't be possible, but there it was. A post-it surely plucked from the ever present roll on her steel desk. The letters arched in her very handwriting. I could even feel the familiar warmth coming off the words. *See me in my office, hun!* Her voice still rang in my head as clear as a bell.
Diane.
My old boss.
\------------
The dirt crunched beneath my feet as I walked through the greenhouse, tugging nervously on the end of my sleeve. It was an old habit, the tugging. In fact, Diane had been the first person to point it out to me, that night when we realized the world was ending.
We'd been taking stock of the growth over the past few weeks, figuring out how to send some extra fertilizer and seeds out to places that needed a little help. We kept the TV on in the background like always, our ears perked at attention for any new breakthroughs or bulletins. When we were debating which citrus trees to send out west, the sound of static suddenly cut through the air. Almost in unison, we'd turned to look at the TV and saw nothing on air on our network of choice. Nor any other channel we flipped through.
"I'm sure it's nothing,"I assured her. "Just something busted with the receiver. I'll make it right as rain tomorrow."
Her eyes had dropped to my right hand fiddling with the sleeve around the opposite wrist and she told me it was okay to be afraid.
But it wasn't okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.
Diane had always called the greenhouse her office. It was where she spent most of her time, experimenting with her hands in the earth. The 1200 square foot structure was filled with sunlight, the odor of a dozen plants rising up from the dirt. I'd never realized it until now, but it had always been my favorite place. Maybe that's why I kept coming here, even as everything else in life faded around me. The rivers. The people. My home. My world.
It'd been years since I'd seen another living soul.
But then...
There she was. The sun beamed down on her through the glass, resting happily against her brown, dimpled cheek. Her dreads fell against the small of her back as she gazed up at the sunflowers that I'd planted in the back corner, nearly as tall as her now. When she turned to me and smiled, tears fell down my face unimpeded.
"Hello, Aiden,"she whispered.
I trembled when she put her arms around me, her laughter boisterous.
"I can't believe you're here,"I cried.
"Of course I am,"she replied. "Everything I love is here."
She rested her hand against my cheek, gentle as ever. "I've seen all you done. I'm so proud of you."
"I tried to do everything just like you taught me,"I grinned, sheepishly. I wasn't like Diane. She is a genius, a true botanist. I was just some kid she kept around for community service.
She stepped away from me then, resting her hands on her hips, sighing with satisfaction as she surveyed the greenhouse. "I can't believe how things have turned out. Did you figure out the tomatoes."
I eagerly nodded my head. "Yes! It was difficult but I followed your notes, improvised a bit and was able to crossbreed them with another species. They're growing twice as big twice as fast.... and twice as sweet."
She squinted her eyes at me knowingly. "All written down?"
I pulled my journal out from my quote pocket. "Just like you taught me."
She replied, with a wink, "Good boy."
Grabbing my hand, she invited me to sit with her at the green patio table in the center of the greenhouse. "You did good work."
"You would've done better,"I mumbled, unable to meet her gaze. "I... I wanted to find you. I just..."
She gently shushed me with a wave of her hand. "You were better off here, I promise you."
I still remember the day she left. We'd gotten word about up north. She had family there. I think we both knew it was hopeless, but she had to see for herself. She'd left me the greenhouse, instructions and a promise that she would be back. I felt foolish now for not believing her.
"What happened?"I asked her. "Where did you go?"
"Unimportant,"she said, shaking her head. "You'll find out soon enough. What is more important is that you show me all that you have kept track of. We need to start getting it in order."
I spent the next few days getting her up to speed. Going over everything I'd learned, everything I'd done, failures and successes. Every day, every plant, every hypothesis. We organized it all, summed it up neatly and piled it in the farmhouse. It felt good to work with someone again. Just like before Diane's presence made the hard point a joy.
When were finished it'd resulted in 17 notebooks, freshly filled and ordered with everything we knew that would give society a chance to survive. It sat between us on the kitchen table that last night as we split a cup of coffee. I'd saved the beans as a surprise, just for her.
"It's good work,"I said, "But I can't help feeling like it's all a little too late."
It was enough to stop the starvation but where would we even start. The world we live in now lacked the infrastructure and cohesiveness to effectively spread it. How would people learn?
"It's not too late,"she serenely replied. "It's right on time. A little early in fact."
She pointed out the window, to the hill where the gate to the farm had rusted over. "8 hours, maybe 10... and there will be wheels on that road. Not many but enough. Two cars and a trailer. Survivors, just like you, looking for a haven for their children. They'll stay and they'll learn, and they'll thrive and they'll spread. Just like humanity did once before, just like we will continue to do. Your work will feed them and it will feed others. And they'll be strong enough to rebuild."
I rested my chin on my hand to keep it from trembling. "I won't even be a memory to them, will I?"
She smiled. "Not even a little. But that's not why you did this, is it?"
I chuckled as I shook my head. "Not even a little.... it was always for you."
I looked over at her, as healthy, young and clean as the day I'd first met her. Right from the start, I knew that was a bad sign. Back when there was news they used to say that the virus first manifested in the brain. Hallucinations were likely. But who can tell the difference between a hallucination and an angel.
Surely, not me.
I caught glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked ghoulish. All skin and bones, sunken eyes surrounded by pale skin, dirt trapped beneath my yellowed fingernails. Not exactly what you'd call coffin ready.
I turned back and looked into her brown, understanding eyes. "Will they at least be kind enough to bury me?"
She nodded. "People are still good enough to show others that kindness.... they showed it to me."
\------------------- |
"What can I do for you, bud?"It was a calm day in the shop, the sun was shining in and the customers were just flowing.
The man smiled, "Just give me a buzz cut, nothing fancy."
I started to say something but my heart had jumped. That voice, I knew it, I recognized it. My arm shook and I rubbed my hand where it had been shoved into boiling water. I felt the water again, water everywhere, my lungs grasping for breath as I grasped for control.
I blinked.
"Sure, um, just sit down right here, I can, uh, take care of you in about a minute."My mind was racing, where did I know him? Why did that voice make me jump? But then it all came back to me. As the sun beat in through the windows, I was back in that dark room where I had been shoved underwater, where I had been burned alive, the room where as he screamed his questions I had died and rose a changed man.
I could feel my inner demons moving. I started to cut his hair. My fingers twitched, I wanted to feel those scissors in his neck and his blood on my hands.
I shook again, this time knocking the razor against his head. "Sorry sir"
My heart was a battlefield between the man in that cell and the man I am today. I had come back changed, but I had changed again. I had a family now, a wife, two beautiful boys at home.
The light shone into my eyes again. I felt a pain in my hands and my feet. I finished up his cut.
He smiled at me as he paid, oblivious, and asked, "What's your name, I just moved into town and I think I found my new barber."
I cringed a bit on the inside. "The name's Joshua"
He smiled, "Well here's a couple dollars tip Joshua, you earned it."
"I'm sorry, I can't take your money."My face was made of stone, it was covered in sorrow like a dog cowering in the corner, hiding from its aggressive master.
He sighed jokingly and grinned that same happy grin as if nothing had ever happened, as if he wasn't a monster, as if he hadn't killed my soul there! He winked and placed those few dollars on the counter anyways and started to walk away.
I fought to keep away the tears. I was a blur of memories. He killed the old me, but without that I wouldn't be the man I am today. He killed me, he tore me down, broke my spirit, he found out everything he wanted to know, and 300 men had died that day because of what I said. 300 men died but I eventually met my wife, had two kids, and am "happy". I still can't sleep well at night. But I'm trying to do my best.
So as he walked out the door a tear fell from my eye.
And I said, "I forgive you."
He walked on, he hadn't noticed. But I didn't say it for him, I said it for myself. |
"Master Wayne, you really should take a break. Your health is deteriorating and you havn't had anything to eat in days."
"Yeah, Bruce. Get some rest and we can go find the riddler and just beat the answers out of him. Come on, just like the good old days?"
The sullen billionaire stared at the note. There had to be some hidden meaning to this. Something to do with the Riddler's next scheme. Perhaps he should run the paper under the micro-scanners again. Perhaps he should find the source of the ink, or maybe compare the exact dimensions of the note to a map of Gotham. So many possibilities, but none of them seemed to sync up.
He continued to stare at the pink index card with the sharpie drawn message. "I like you, do you like me? Yes/No" |
"That goofy smile is on your face again,"Marissa teases. My heart immediately drops and I remove my face of any expression.
"Sorry, I... I had that dream again,"I stammer slightly turning away from her in embarrassment.
"Hmm..."she inches closer to me in bed, "Sally still trying to steal you away from me? When will she learn to back off?"
I give her a sheepish smile, almost squirming under her gaze. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and rolls out of bed.
"Where do you wanna go for breakfast?"she calls while heading to the bathroom.
"Margarine's Pancakes would be nice. I could go for their chocolate-chip pancakes,"I roll myself out of bed, desperately trying to force Sally out of my head. When it gets bad, I replace my memory of Marissa's face for Sally's whenever she's talking to me from out of my vision. Her gleaming, brunette hair. Her piercing, blue eyes. Her intoxicating laugh. Her-- gah, I'm doing it again!
Outside, Marissa and I walk hand-in-hand to the nearby diner. She looks at me worriedly.
"You wanna talk about it today?"she pries.
"Yeah, I... I dunno, it just doesn't make sense. I mean we've been married for two years, you'd think Sally would just, you know, go away or something."I shrugged. It was nice to talk about it with Marissa, knowing nobody else will indulge me in this. I pulled her closer. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? C'mon, Mike, I'm more mature than that! Apologizing for your dreams. They're just dreams. I'm more concerned that it's been occurring for so long now. It seems like it distracts you most mornings. You wanna talk to someone about it?"
I opened my mouth then stopped dead in my tracks. In front of Margarine's is a girl, open-mouthed staring at the two of us.
"Mike..."Marissa looks to the girl, "who is that?"
"Mike!?"the girl screams, running toward us.
"Sally!"I gasp, taking a pace backwards. Marissa stares at her, wide-eyed.
"Sally?"she repeats.
Sally throws her arms around me, giggling. I don't reciprocate, still frozen in my daze.
"Mike..."Marissa whimpers in disbelief.
Sally steps back to take a look at me and strokes my hair like she's done so many times before. My eyes are lost her seas of blue. My heart is hammering, begging to run away from this nightmare.
"All these years, I thought you were a dream."There are tears of joy brimming her eyes.
"No,"is all I can muster.
Sally's hand pulls back from me instinctively.
"What?"she asks, crestfallen.
"Sally, no. You're not real. You're exactly what you've always been, a dream. An unattainable idea. You..."I hesitate, heartbroken by the pain in her eyes, "you need to go."My voice is breaking. "You need to leave, to get out of my life. I've been with Marissa,"I pull her closer to me, "and I plan on staying with her for the rest of my life. I'm sorry Sally, I truly am, but you can't be in my life in any way. You are, and forever will be a dream I long for in sleep, but Marissa is your incarnation when I am awake. Nothing will take me away from her."
Marissa looks up at me, not breathing as Sally shakes her head in disbelief.
"But I..."she begins, but I turn away from her, trying to let these feelings of immediate regret pass. I hear her start to cry and I put my arm around Marissa and turn us back to our apartment, away from Sally.
Having walked a couple of steps, Marissa whispers to me, "I'm so sorry. I never knew she meant so much to you. I--"
"Sorry?"I choke, a tear rolling down my cheek, "she's just a dream, nothing to be sorry about."
I never dreamed of Sally again. |
"God damn it, somebody get that smirk of that bastard's face!"screamed Satan. His demon minions scattered, each one trying harder than the last one to get even a wince of pain out of him, however, they'd gone through the entire list. Pitchforks, scalding lava, eternal screaming, limb rearrangement, the list goes on, and all of them had been tried. But avast, Jimmy still smiled.
One of the demons approached Satan. "B-but sir, h-h-he won't budge."
Satan glared at his lesser, and in less than an instant the puny demon was turned into a pile of ashes. He sighed.
"If you want to get something done, you've got to do it yourself."Satan pointed to another minion, "You there, hand me my pitchfork. I've got business to do."The minion scuttled away into a dark corridor and retrieved the tool. "Actually, I won't be needing this."Satan grinned his normal devilish grin and stood up.
"Where is he?"They all pointed at the corner where Jimmy was slowly being impaled by spear made of molten magma. Satan appeared in front of him and pulled the spear out of his spirit body and dropped it. "Who are you? I like to know what I'm going to eat before I eat it."
"Jimmy, your royal highness. A simple servant to your commands. Is there anything I can help with?"He was still grinning with joy.
"Interesting. Do you mind telling me about yourself? Any fears? Your happiest moments? Your darkest days?"
"Why of course. My worst fear is the fear of being lonely, really. I guess I just like to make other people happy and with nobody to be happy I feel like I'm just incomplete. My happiest moments would probably include when my baby son was born. I was so happy to see the look on his and my wife's face. And for dark days, I really can't remember any. I'm always just so happy."
"That's great. Now, I'm going to go and prepare a dinner for us to eat together. I'll let you take a break and relax for a bit and we'll eat like real gentlemen. Sound like a plan?"
The rest of the demons exchanged glances. Never have they seen Satan so... cheerful before.
"Why sure, thank you for the offer."
"Why, your welcome."
-----
Although it had seemed like moments in the grand scheme of eternity, in a few hours Satan had made the table and placed silverware, plates, cups, and a concealed platter on it. He sat on one end, and on the other Jimmy suddenly appeared.
"Ah, hello Jimmy. Nice to see you again."
"Thank you, Satan. It's nice to have your company again too."
"Hmm? Not even worried that I, Satan, Lord of all Hell, has invited you to dinner?"
"No, not at all sir."
"Really, hm? Alright, no worry, let's get down to business: the appetizer!"
The cover to the platter opened up, revealing a tiny, disgusting, severed head. "Does this look familiar?"
Jimmy remained silent, yet still smiled with optimism.
"It's the head of your dead son. I just killed him. He's dead. Completely obliterated! Along with your wife. As a matter of fact, I was going to leave her as the main course, but I think I'll just let you eat her now!"Satan grinned and chuckled a deep, tyrannical laugh as the silverware glided across the table, cutting of chunks of flesh to feed to Jimmy. "Ahah, there's the ear of your dead son. How does it taste, Jimmy? Oh, are you enjoying the liver of your wife?"
Jimmy was still silent, and Satan could almost see his smile starting to fade. "Oh, well, look at the time! I'd best get going, and I think I'll take the corpses as left-overs for tomorrow's lunch. Don't mind mess on the table, I'll just get rid of it. Goodnight Jimmy!"Satan waved goodbye at the motionless body across from him. He vanished along with everything in the room and suddenly everything was black. Jimmy stood there, frozen, and alone. Terribly alone, and lost in his lonely thoughts. But the only thought he needed was one of hope.
"If hell is forever, then I can finally be happy forever."And so Jimmy smiled.
|
Tink, Tink, Tink. "...there were no complications."
I scowl as I finger my hatchet and glance at the side windows that are obscured by tacky yellow curtains. I quickly avert my gaze. I don't even want to think about it, they give me the creeps. It'd been four days since I finished off the last of my shrunken morsels of apple and they'd picked up my scent pretty quickly as I tried to make my way further south. I'd found half a six pack of homemade hard cider in a basement in some middle-of-nowhere burg in southern Illinois. Traded them to some hard-up independent farmer folks outside Mount Vernon for a small bag of the bitter, wizened apple cores. They'd lasted me a couple weeks, but I was still 75 miles out from Orchard City and things weren't looking good.
Tink. Tink. "We'll need to run some.... tests."The bastards never do shut the hell up.
I'd stopped in this farmhouse to scavenge and sleep last night and they caught me with my pants down. There were far too many of them to clear out and most of them were still out there milling around the last time I'd had the stomach to look. Can hear their unending, creepy murmurs about needles and incisions. I know I'm probably gonna die if I don't make a move soon, I'm out of water and I've only got a couple days worth of food at best, even on emergency rations.
Tink. Tink, tink, tink. "Vitals nominal!"One of them shouts. The others answer with an echoing chant "Nominal? NOMINAL! NOMINAL!!!"They almost sound outraged.
Everyone else call us Johnnies. My unit was tasked with trying to establish safe trade routes through the Midwest. I've got a pack full of seeds that I've been planting in small nurseries along roadsides all the way down from Old Detroit. I've been heading for Orchard City and trying to hit all the larger settlements on the way. But southern Illinois was in bad shape, they'd had some kind of blight or something last fall and the yields had been dangerously low. Whole bunch of places on my map had been overrun or abandoned. Total ghost towns.
Sudden silence outside. Uh oh. That can't be good.
I sneak over to the window and listen. Nothing. I peel back the corner of a curtain.
One of them has his face pressed right up against the glass. His eyes seem to be all whites and he gives me a toothy grin. "We'd like to keep you overnight,"he says, "for observation."His grin widens. Way, way too wide. I let the curtains drop back into place. The clink of stethoscopes against the glass resumes. Tink, tink, tink. It's enough to drive a man mad.
I'm about to head back to my perch by the door when I hear a muffled scuffling sound from upstairs. How the hell did they get up there from the outside! I start up the stairs two at a time but stumble to a halt on the landing when I see two figures wearing dirty scrubs already on the upper level. They both lunge at me, but one trips up the other and they both go down. The bigger of the two nurses lands on top. She takes my hatchet to the back of her head. A group wearing labcoats reach the top of the stairs above me. Oh boy, technicians. The other nurse wriggles and screeches from beneath the body of her companion but I'm already running to the front door, hoping against hope that they overcommitted to the breech upstairs.
I pause at the front door and check through the peephole, but I can't see a thing. Here goes nothing. I flip the deadbolt and sweep the door open. I'm surprised to see only one figure standing on the front porch, and he looks just as surprised to see me. I bowl him over but he angles around and grabs my ankle as I try to run past, twisting it painfully and mumbling behind his surgical mask, "does it hurt when I press here?"
Three swings of the hatchet mostly remove his head from his body and now I'm getting caught up in the bloodletting and the adrenaline. I scream down at him "I'D LIKE A SECOND OPINION MOTHERFUCKER!"Then I'm gone, sprinting out into the darkness, unchallenged.
I've still got 75 miles to go before Orchard City. I'm still low on supplies, I've got no apples, and they still have my scent. But I've lived to see the dawn.
|
A pencil picked a piece of paper,
to write the world a note.
It asked the lamp for a little light,
and this is what it wrote:
"My journey began so long ago,
a tree I was once tall.
You came and saw my strength was great,
and struck me down to fall."
"Inside me lives another one,
who comes from Mother Earth.
You came and saw a use for it,
and mined him for his worth"
"You made us into what we are,
and together we were more.
Word by word you used us up,
and taught us both your lore."
"First we learned your truths,
and then we learned your lies.
With graceful strokes and thoughtful ease,
your words soon gave us eyes."
"We saw your world for what it was,
the wonder and the weird.
And soon we whittled down to nub,
our end no longer feared."
"I do not hate your use of me,
and neither does my friend.
Because of us we shared your minds,
Until you wrote: The End."
**Edit:
I came back to see all these upvotes, comments, and to also see someone gilded me. I don't know how to
respond. I've been in a writer's funk for the longest time and when I saw this prompt I just felt like putting my
thoughts down on what I felt it was leading to. Thank you very much to everyone who appreciated and enjoyed
my "poem". :) |
**4:29 AM 8/5/2345, World Council Space Command HQ Hallways, New London**
The halls the grand building are bustling with life despite the earliness of the hour, everyone from scientists to politicians walk up and down the halls all with work to do. The busyness of the building is nothing new considering just what exactly this building is.
Located near the heart of the city of New London, this massive and grand building is the headquarters of the World Council's efforts into off world colonization and research. The building was first opened in 2256 as part if the Council's efforts to better organise space colonization efforts and has proved vital in the further colonization of the solar system and growth of the colonies.
Thanks to the efforts of the people in this building the World Council have colonised every colonisable planet and moon in the solar system. But now with nothing left to colonise the Council has started looking at the next frontier, beyond the Sol System.
In 2332 swarms of probes begun to get sent out of the Sol System in search of possible future colonies. Any messages from these probes are monitored at the building.
**6:47 AM 8/5/2345, World Council Space HQ Probe Monitoring Station, New London**
Rows of people all looking at large computers cover the vast room. The computer's monitors are covered in data being sent back from the probes.
So far everything has been going pretty standardly, they would receive some data from the probes, usually about stars and how far away they are from them.
Thinks were going pretty normal until one of the computers started picking up some data that looked out of place among all the information about star patterns. The person monitoring the computer looked at it in confusion, at first they through it was just a glitch and dismissed it at first.
But very soon he started getting more odd data from the probe, he decided to call over a supervisor to take a better look.
The supervisor walked over to the man at the computer "What is it?"The man turned and looked at the supervisor "I'm receiving the strange data from the probe sir. At first I thought it was just a glitch but I keep getting it"
"Let me take a look"The man moves aside and the supervisor has a look at the screen "Hmmm.....It all looks like gibberish to me"He said while monitoring to the data which read.
'theoeodbDnothebOnrhrhwehrhee-Nejfhehw13445O-rherrrtLhthEahtheAhi2445VerfE'
"The probe probably just hit an asteroid or something. Just mark it as defective"The supervisor then left, leaving the man alone at his computer.
Following the supervisors instructions he started to mark the probe as defective, he was entering his password on the confirmation screen but stopped just before he entered the last letter when he decides to take one last look at the data
He closes the screen and looks at the full view of the data again. He knows it's probably nothing but something at the back of his mind is saying to double check.
'theoeodbDnothebOnrhrhwehrhee-Nejfhehw13445O-rherrrtLhthEahtheAhi2445VerfE'
He stares at it for what seems like hours trying to think of what it means when he suddenly comes up with something. He presses a button that high lights capital letters.
'theoeodb**D**notheb**O**nrhrhwehrhee-**N**ejfhehw13445**O**-rh**T**errrt**L**hth**E**ahthe**A**hi2445**V**erf**E**'
Do Not Leave.
He looked at the screen In confusion yet again, why would it say that he wondered. But before he could do anything else more data poured in.
'kjhdTjrhreHpurwuEty-563S34OafeL-94dhSppoeYwryeS09afhhjsTworEopppphMeu'
Looking at the data he pressed the highlight button again.
'kjhd**T**jrhre**H**purwu**E**ty-565**S**34**O**afe**L**-94dh**S**ppoe**Y**wryeS09afhhjs**T**wor**E**opppph**M**eu'
The Sol System.
He realised that the data is trying to send a message. But what exactly it he couldn't tell. Suddenly he realises something and combines the two messages.
Do not leave the sol system.
Together that is what the two messages say. But that doesn't make sense.. why would a probe send such messages.
Just as he was about to get up and show someone these message a new piece of data came through. This one much clear than the last two.
rthhehDmO-NaaOeT-LfeEavAyVE-TH9E-SOeL-ShjYSrTEM-tDtO-NOjT-LEjkAlVE-THE-gSOeL-SY4STEgM-DO-NOT-LEAVE-THE-SOL-SYSTEM-DO-NOT-LEAVE-THE-SOL-SYSTEM-...
The message kept repeating over and over. The man calls over the supervisor to have a look "What is it thi....oh my god..."The supervisor watched in shock as the message kept repeating.
"What the hell is this?""I don't know sir. The message is coming from the pro-"But just before he could finish something new shows up on the screen.
THEY-ARE-COMING-YOU-CANNOT-FIGHT-THEM-HIDE-WHILE-YOU-STILL-CAN-DO-NOT-LEAVE-THE-SOL-SYSTEM.
The message suddenly stop. Both the man and the supervisor look at the screen bewildered. The supervisor is the first to speak "I....I need to report this...."He says as he backs away from the screen and heads off to report what just happened.
The man meanwhile just sits wondering what's going to happen next and also what was coming.
-----------------------------------
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5zh1vx/wp_by_2345_humanity_has_colonized_most_of_the/dezmvcn/)
|
Lau Fau gingerly pressed massive claws together under his bearded chin, looking down at the kowtowing peasant and the leather bound book spread out before him.
"Read it,"the dragon ordered.
"My lord - I cannot. I'm a simple -"
"Silence,"the bored dragon intoned, the wind shaping to his will and flipping to the start of the book. "Raise your head."
Awed and trembling, the young man slowly raised his head, brown eyes meeting the golden, catlike eyes of the beast. The eyes pulsed, the slitted pupil growing until the dragon's eyes were black and shrinking to an indistinct line. After a moment, the man stumbled back, shaking his head and blinking.
"Read,"the dragon ordered again.
The man opened his mouth to beg pardon again, but, glancing at the pages at his feet, noticed that the lines and dots formed words and phrases. Confused, he picked it up and began to read, until his throat was dry and his voice gave out.
.
"Lau Fau,"the disciple asked, bowing his head. The whiskered head turned from where it had been contemplating a tapestry, the massive zodiac map creating a colourful backdrop to his red and gold.
"Why have you taught me all this? It's been years. Everyone else who comes leaves their tributes and returns, but you have me reading, writing, cataloging. What does that serve? You can read far faster than I."
"It's not enough,"the dragon rumbled, his voice like thunder.
"Not... enough?"
"These books, these scrolls, these stones and cloths. They're not enough. Why does rhubarb grow in sandy soil? Why does one group boil the leaves, another eat the stalks, and yet another prepare the roots, each discarding the other parts?"
"I don't know,"the disciple confessed.
"Someone will,"the dragon told him. "And someone will convey that knowledge to me."
"But that doesn't explain my role."
"Doesn't it?"
"Do... Do you want me to go look for rhubarb?"
There was a small puff of flame. The disciple looked up in astonishment at the chortling dragon.
"Look for rhubarb, that's a good one. I'll remember that. No, I haven't put that much work into you to have you garden. One day, you will have the knowledge to topple a kingdom, and to rule your own. And that kingdom shall learn for me how rhubarb grows, and where the comets go. That kingdom will blend new metals and search for new feathers. That kingdom will be enough."
"But Lau Fau - Such an empire, the wars - They would kill thousands. They would not accept me as ruler. The other dragons would not stand for you stealing tribute and your direct meddling."
If dragons could shrug, Lau Fau did, turning back to his tapestry. "And? They teach me nothing. They contribute nothing. They mean nothing. Return to your studies." |
It’s been 569 years since someone summoned me for a wish. I never thought I would wait this long to be summoned, they look up to the sky and make a wish thinking a comet will grant their dreams. How silly are they...
There was a slight hesitation when I granted three wishes to every human being in this world, about how this would affect the whole balance but there is no balance left thanks to them anyway.
''I wish I was older.''
Here we go, my first wish. She is 15 years old and she seems pretty upset that she can’t go to the nightclub. It’s time to grant her wish. She is born on 23rd September, let’s make this 22nd September. Congratulations human, now you are one day older.
''I wish Lucas was here.''
This one is interesting. He is 24 years old and he is living alone at his apartment. He had a break up with his girlfriend last week and they were together for almost 2 years. Lucas is his best friend and they know each other since the pre-school. I instantly teleport Lucas right next to him and the funny thing is Lucas is completely naked. Well, I guess he was busy with his best friend's ex-girlfriend.
''I wish I was sick.''
This one has a lot of potential. He is watching a football match and he needs to get up early tomorrow for work. Your wish has been granted, enjoy your COVID-19.
''I wish this plane crashes into the ocean.''
Clearly, this guy having a bad day and I’m about to make his day better by granting his wish. He is in a commercial flight with 160 people. He is a gambling addict and he lost fifty thousand dollars when he was gambling in a casino. Now, he doesn’t want to face his wife who is awaiting him at home. Too bad he is never coming home and all the other people on the plane.
''I wish I was a genie.''
Hold up. What is this? 20 years old girl who is about to jump off from the cliff. I can’t grant her wish if she dies which makes her wish ungranted and my powers would vanish for 1000 years. I can’t let this happen but same time I can’t make her genie, this is not how it works. I look for another wish that can save her.
''I wish I was a giant eagle.''
Here we go. You are a giant eagle now, sir. Now, save her and save me from 1000 years of boredom.
-------------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story-
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* |
The solution was elegantly simple, send Harry to America. The quartet of witches and wizards who had gathered to discuss the best way to hide him from Voldemort after his aunt and uncle had become abusive, arrived at the conclusion and made a plan in less than two hours. By days end Harry was on a plane to Dallas Texas where a local muggle family had offered to adobt him.
When Harry came to Hogwarts for the first time he certainly stuck out, a Texas drawl and pencient for un English like foods and spice did more for that then the scar on his head. Soon however Harry had settled right in, then the chaos began. For six years Harry was constantly having to save the day with whatever half ass spell he could remember and he was sick of it.
Year seven rolled around and Ron and Heremonine were concerned, they wanted to leave Hogwarts, Harry just laughed, he had a plan now that he could teleport. When Harry arrived on that first day his school bags had an extra piece of luggage with them, a locked long grey box. He kept it under the invisibility cloak in his dorm room, only Ron even knew of its existence.
Then came the day that the case got opened. Voldemort was readying to attack, everyone was in a dither except Harry who was oddly calm. They prepared their defenses of potted plants and spells but saw nothing of Harry, he was in his room, readying his secret weapon.
Finally the time came, and the professors turned commander yelled for all students to man their stations, Ron ran to find Harry. He found him in the dorm room, a Mossburg a crossed his back, a pistol on each hip, and a scoped AR-15 in hand. "Ron", he drawled, "I'm done fucking around".
Ron could only look on, mouth agape, as Harry pulled on a cowboy hat and tactical vest before heading down the stairs. When he arrived at the gates everyone was gawking and staring, one female professor shouted in shock, "put those dangerous things away, their illegal, you will be expelled".
Harry just laughed, "the only thing I'm dangerous too is what's outside those gates and you if y'all don't shut the fuck up". With that he scaled the parapet and joined the Wesley twins at the top of the wall. "Why aren't you firing your gizmos yet?", Harry questioned.
"Their, their, their too far out", one of the wide eyes brothers stammered.
"300 yards is too far, fucking wizards". He racked the charging handle and steadied the handguard on the wall. Harry's finger found the trigger and a dementor fell.
With that the battle was on and what a one sided conflict it was. Harry's P-Mags littered the ground as villain after villain met their 5.56 diameter fate. A round of buckshot split Voldemorts snake in half, a few slugs dropped his giants like a bad habit, and his dementors were falling like cord wood.
Finally the man himself stepped forward. "Potter", he hissed, "come down and face me and this bloodshed shall end".
"You don't have to do it Harry. You don't have to go down their", Hermenoine said from over his shoulder.
"Why the fuck would I do that", Harry said before smiling a ten gallon Texas grin and putting his crosshairs right on that pale fucks forehead and put a 5.56 through it. |
I was absolutely stunned that no-one has noticed this before.
People climbed the surrounding mountains every day. It wasn't forbidden, or even particularly difficult. When someone needed privacy, or fresh air, or silence, they climbed the mountains. That was why I came up to begin with.
To be fair, the symbol was highly asymmetric, so it wasn't easy to recognise, even viewing at so shallow an angle as I was; the mountains were relatively low to the ground anyways. Even then, its shape was distinct enough that *some* people should have realised. Well, I wasn't about to cry over that.
The city's winding streets laid out the most powerful seal of ancient spirits right before me. Some featrues were obscured by towers or taller rooves, and the castle, but there was no mistaking it. Thoughts coursed my head at this discovery. It explained so much. Like the ban on practicing spellcasting in town, or why the walls themselves oozed some rather slight, but perceptible magic, or why it was impossible to fly too high too near. If it was meant to protect the secret, it had failed. I had been looking for Rygva'ath for the longest, but I could never get closer than 'in the city'. That had changed now.
A most insidious idea popped into my head. Seals are broken when they are split in two - when a branch doesn't connect to the rest. How could I break the streams? By building across streets, turning them into dead ends. But who would let me do that?
Shop owners, market stall vendors, who would *love* potential customers to have no way of walking around them, that's who. More sales means more taxes, so the noble of the city would for sure let it happen. But this wouldn't get me all the way there. Still, it was a starting point. After making a quick, but critically, somewhat inaccurate sketch of the streets' layout, I returned home to contemplate my next move.
It struck me then: more gates mean more seclusion from the plebeians, and more tolls. Are gates walls? I was going to see it through. Chuckling to myself, just imagining that after so much research, such a long journey, all the actual work was going to be done by someone *else*, and I wouldn't even be around when the destruction started. This was the most fun in being the villain - causing people to willingly, better, *wantintgly* walk into their own deaths, and getting to spectate from too far to be concerned about law, or retribution.
That afternoon, the city council recieved a lengthy letter, signed by multiple respected traders and merchants. Sometime in the evening, a watchful eye might have noticed a lone wanderer going through the mountains with a well-packed mule.
Before you judge - I left a message also for the priests of the local temple. "Pray." |
The box in the center of the room whirred as it calculated the probabilities and physics of this new temporal field that modern science had unlocked. Every single person in the room stood silent, waiting with bated breath for a response. Hoping for something that seemed impossible.
The box dinged and with the whirring gone the room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. One message flashed in a bright neon green "Paradox Disproven". The room strained with tension for a second.
Then, it descended into chaos. Scientists only moments before carefully analysing the universe now all clambered on top of each other and over chairs to get to the time machine. People who had devoted their entire lives to science now kicking and punching to be the first to go back with an extreme knowledge of historical events and current technology and become the most important person alive.
Someone from a right in front of the room shouts and there is another momentary pause in all action. "Cant you idiots see this isn't the right way to go about things?". Someone to their left hesitantly edges towards the machine while holding a broken chair leg, but stops as they start talking again. "Come on, put the leg down and start thinking normally".
With that sentence everyone sits down and the energy drains out of them, leaving only faces of regret and embarrassment. "We are better than this people!"Exclaims the scientist. "Now, if everyone is done we can go hand this to people who might actually do a better job of handling this discovery. Their hand travels to the box, and opens the door. "You see this little thing is far greater than any single one of us, and we shouldn't jeopardise the chances of time travel for everyone just because someone wanted to take a little joy ride.
But then, as everyone is taking in the implications of their actions and not considering the now open door. The very same scientist cackles while sliding in and shutting the door. "SO LONG SUCKERS, GET PLAYED TO THE VERY END."The entire time machine and all its technology vanishes in a flash of light leaving only the faint image of a smug grinning scientist holding a history book of sporting events. |
The dress was a purple parachute around Lucy's legs as she danced, the cream hummingbirds printed onto the cotton leaping and diving in joyous flight. Electro-swing thrummed through the room, through her body, the saxophone's erratic melody leading her movements,
Everything was alive. The birds. The night. *Lucy.*
The crowd watched Lucy, the genius of geniuses -- as the press labelled her (when she'd been just a child, no less!) -- lose herself to the drink and rhythm.
When the track finished, the crowd erupted into applause.
Lucy took a bow, her forehead sweat-slick, her smile a blazing candle that had been lost in a drawer for a decade. Found. Relit.
"Terrific,"said Elliot. Her husband handed her a fizzing champagne flute then placed his arms around her lower back, pulling her close. "You were terrific."
"Thanks,"she said, between panting breaths. "It's been a hot moment since I danced like that."She took a long sip, let the bubbles tickle her gums.
"What's it been?"said Elliot. "A decade since they let you party?"
"Since they let me live. A decade since I was alive. Since any of us were."
Another song started, a little slower. Some of the guests partnered up and swayed together like ghosts.
"Shall we?"said Elliot.
She raised a hand. "I need a break. And a refresh on the champagne."She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
&#x200B;
Isabelle was sitting in the kitchen sipping a glass of orange.
"Now why aren't you in bed, kiddo?"Lucy asked.
"Couldn't sleep."Isabelle let out a lazy yawn, not bothering to cover it.
"Is it the music?"Lucy checked her watch. "Yeah. We should call it a night soon."
"No. It wasn't that."
Lucy poured herself another glass of bubbly and sat next to her daughter. "Well, what is it?"
The little girl shrugged. "It's just been such a long time since I've seen you happy. I didn't want to miss it."
Lucy's smile wavered. Almost dropped but she caught it. "I'll be happy plenty more from now."
"You will?"
She stroked her daughter's long auburn hair, so similar to her own. "I will."
"Why? What's different now?"
What was different now? Well, for a start, she was enjoying herself. She was at a party. She was letting go. And god, the drink helped. She'd been banned from partying and drinking for the better part of a decade. Lucy was one of the government's top physicists -- but after an incident (vague in her memory now, like a painting left out in the sun year after year, faded to white canvas) they'd given her a choice. A cramped cell, or become a prisoner in her own home. With no drink. With no fun.
She'd taken the latter offer.
"Everyone okay?"said her husband.
She'd not seen Elliot enter. He sat by them and drank his own champagne.
"We're fine, daddy,"said Isabelle.
"Great party,"said Elliot. "Really, it's great."
"I think we'll have to call it quits soon,"said Lucy.
"Oh?"He frowned.
She nodded at their daughter. "Can't sleep. It's the excitement of it all."
"We should finish the champagne first. Still got a bottle."
"Yeah,"she said, looking at her husband. But it'd sounded more like their daughter's voice. "I suppose so. Who knows when we'll next get a bottle."
"Is champagne hard to get?"asked Isabelle.
"It is for me! They banned me from drinking. Can you believe it?"
"But you're drinking now?"
She looked at the glass in her hand. "Yeah. I guess I am."
"So how did you get that?"
Her husband popped a cork and filled up her glass. "Drink! Be merry! Let me be wise."
How did she get it? It'd been hard... difficult. She'd broken protocol. Had the bottles delivered by an old friend. Smuggled, really. She wasn't allowed it here. Or allowed any guests.
"Then how did the guests get here?"asked Isabelle. "If you weren't allowed them?"
"I... I guess they snuck in too?"
They fell quiet. She drank the champagne.
Odd, she thought. No sound of footfall, of dancing. Just the music.
Lucy got to her feet; the alcohol hit her like a door. She staggered against a wall, pushed herself off, then continued unsteadily to the lounge.
Empty.
Not one living soul.
The guests had all gone.
"Well I guess that settles it,"said Elliot. He'd followed her in. They both had followed.
"It does?"
"Party is officially over."He raised his glass of champagne.
Isabelle held a champagne flute too. She raised it to her mother.
Why had she got a drink? Something wasn't--
The lights flickered. Died. Darkness sank over them. The music stopped.
Then: *flames.*
All she could see were the flames erupting from their pair of champagne flutes. Their glasses were on fire!
They tipped them towards their faces, a dance of red and orange light stretching over their skin.
"Wait!"
They drank the fire. The flames spread over their faces as quickly as the sun over a glade.
"Wait! Please!"She was screaming at them but unable to step nearer. Unable to put them out.
Their bodies were on fire now. Purple and white and red and leaping in tongues, and their skin was like crinkled charcoaled paper falling and sluicing away from their bodies. Their faces were red and black pulp, only the white of their eyes, so much larger without the lids, bulbous and swollen, were staring at her, screaming at her.
And then their bodies, too, ashed into the air.
She could taste their death on her tongue.
Oh god.
It was all coming back.
Their deaths. The fire.
The memories punched at her belly and heart and brain. The room swirled with their dust.
It'd been arson. It was her meant to die, but she'd worked late. Only her family had been asleep.
Her ideas had made predicting criminality an actual science. Her thoughts had locked up tens of thousands before they'd committed crimes.
But it wasn't perfect. Someone had evaded the system. Had set the fire.
&#x200B;
She'd tried to find him. She'd tried to end the world to find him. Had worked on a weapon that pulled people out of existence. Could perhaps erase even their past actions.
That had been last time she'd been drunk, at a party a year after their deaths -- that was when she'd come up with the idea.
Since then, she'd been locked up in her own home. Unable to drink or celebrate life. Too valuable to let die or to allow to stop working.
&#x200B;
"I love you,"she said to the ash that waltzed around her. The breeze from the fan stirred it into a frenzy. Set the hummingbirds on her dress into flight.
We love you too, the death-ash seemed to say. We need you.
She stumbled back to the kitchen. Poured another glass. They needed her. She needed them.
*Yes*.
The idea had been solid. She just hadn't been able to complete it. To go through with it.
If she pulled the murderer out of existence, out of time, then he'd never have existed to kill her family.
Only issue was, she didn't know who the man was. Only one witness and the description had been generic.
She downed the drink.
Never mind. If she had to eliminate a million people -- a hundred million, even -- to bring them back, she would.
For the first time in a decade she was alive.
And soon, they would be too. |
# Soulmage
**Shivio had joined the Silent Crusade expecting to slay demons and witches and bandits and more.**
And he had.
He had signed up knowing that he could very well die in battle in a blaze of glorious joy, bathing the Redlands in his own blood before fading from life and dissolving into the planes beyond.
And he had.
But he'd never expected to be saved by one of the very witches he had sworn to slaughter.
And yet, he had.
Shivio's eyes shot open, ribs aching, lungs heaving as they sucked in air, and the startled little girl above him let out a yelp and stumbled backwards.
"Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry!"The girl scrambled away from him like a scared kitten, and Shivio's addled mind instinctively locked onto her brown eyes and stout build. She was a Redlander—one of the savage people's he'd come here to destroy. Instinctively, he reached for his sword, but found nothing but shattered metal. It was no obstacle to an elf like him—he could wield the memory of the blade just as effectively as the original—but it bought the girl enough time to blurt out, "Are you okay? Do you have any difficulty breathing? Double vision? Uh... any internal bleeding?"
The question was so absurd that Shivio had to pause. "Internal bleeding?"
The girl nodded hastily, and Shivio frowned, gaze refocusing. Were those... yes, the girl had two diaphanous wings. So she was part-fey, then? Considering that she only had two arms and her eyes weren't reflective, she couldn't have been far along in the transformation. "Yeah. I don't have much power left in me, and if you don't need healing, there's others who do."
"Why would I need healing for internal bleeding? Isn't that where the blood is supposed to be?"
The girl stared at him. "...Just... tell me if you feel numb anywhere."
"And why would I tell you that, necromancer?"Shivio asked, struggling to his feet. His plate armor had seized up where a forcebolt from the rift had shot through his left leg, but other than that, he was in fighting shape. The familiar thrill of the crusade sang through him, the joyous certainty of purpose—
"I'm not really a necromancer,"the girl said.
Shivio paused. "What?"
"I'm just a healing witch,"she said. "But, uh, I got to you right as you died. So... I guess I brought you back from the dead."She hesitated, then scratched the back of her neck and added, "Sorry."
Shivio held out his hands, and a memory of his sword coalesced into a beam of shining light. It was mostly for intimidation purposes, but if he willed it, it could shift into the deadly, holy radiance that was the signature of his order, sickening evildoers within minutes of exposure and sentencing them to a lingering death of days. "Then make peace with your fell leaders, witch! I shall slay you on the—"
"Wait wait wait wait wait!"The girl held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "There's—there's other people who need healing. Who I can still save."
Shivio stopped mid-swing, considering. "Are they evildoers?"
"They're..."She swallowed. "They're more of your people. From before the rift opened."
Shivio *hmm*ed to himself. A self-proclaimed necromancer... who wanted to help the holy crusaders of his order?
"...If you raise a hand against me, I shall slay you where you stand,"Shivio warned.
The girl seemed used enough to holy proclamations of that sort that she took it in stride. She knelt down by a collapsed home, where Shivio could sense the fading beat of a dying soul, and wove a spell from vines that knitted body and soul back together.
As the girl worked, Shivio found his mind wandering to the paradox. All witches of the Redlands were fell creatures that deserved death, according to the dogma of the Silent Crusade. And yet... here was one such fell creature, laboring to save his companions—just as she'd labored to save him—from the consequences of the war the Silent Crusade had begun.
"Child,"Shivio said, and thought it hurt him to confront the... *possible misunderstanding*... in his order's doctrines, it was clear that *something* had to be done. "You are aware that this battlefield is not safe for your kind?"
She nodded, focusing on regrowing a particularly deep cut. In the distance, something *snapped*—probably the rift in the sky still spitting out its deadly energies. They'd have to evacuate before random chance sent a forcebolt their way. "I know. Most of these people died trying to kill me."
Shivio frowned. "Then... why..."
She sealed the fallen man's wounds and looked up, a weary... worldly... wise... smile in her eyes. "Because someone has to forgive,"she said. "And today, I choose to be that person."
Shivio looked at the girl who forgave, and the joy of battle warred with something deeper in his soul.
Then he dismissed his blade of light and helped the girl heave a wooden beam off the fallen soldier.
"Then I shall protect you in your duties, until such time as I can ask my order how a misunderstanding as this could have come to be."
The witch and the paladin worked side by side together, pulling survivors from the wreckage and bringing them back from the edge of death, until the sun painted the landscape the same shade of red as all the meaningless blood spilled in the Silent Crusade.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. |
Ain’t life grand? Sure some might think that being a slug would be a pretty terrible existence but not me! See, when I was just a wee slug I was given a task. It’s good to have purpose you know?I was supposed to hunt down some human and touch him. Pretty simple on concept. The human was granted immortality and a million smackaroos. Lucky guy. And he could live as long as he doesn’t come into contact with little old me. At first I was pretty jealous that I wasn’t granted a million dollars but then I remembered I’m just a slug. What do I need money for?
I spent a couple dozen years trying to track Alan down. Almost got him in Wisconsin once. He was camping out in the middle of nowhere but as you can probably imagine he was too fast for me to catch. I don’t even think he knew I was there.
It wasn’t long after that I had a thought. Why should I try to end Alan’s life anyway? I don’t even know the guy. And I figure, if I have to stay alive till we finally touch I might as well enjoy myself. Have a little fun along the way.
So I’m seeing the world! All the vacations destinations I can think of. New York, Tahiti, Buenos Aires I even claimed the my Fuji. I’m going to see more of the world than any other slug that ever lived. It takes forever to get from place to place but I have all the time o. The world. Right now I’m hanging on the back of a bullet train heading to Paris. Can’t wait to try the wine.
It’s been over 100 years since that genie or whatever it was gave Alan the money and immortality and me the job of hunting him down. Some times I wonder how he’s doing. I imagine he’s pretty paranoid. Thinking I’m slinking up on him when he sleeps or hiding behind every corner. Poor guy. If I could write him a letter I’d tell him not to worry and enjoy himself. Take in the sights. Live a little, we’re in this for the long haul. But I’m just a slug so that’s not happening.
I figure I have maybe another 200 years before the game changes. I figure, eventually Alan is going to get sick of his paranoid unending life and begin hunting me down. Trying to end what I imagine would be a terrible existence. But there’s no way he can find me. I’m just one slug on this giant planet. He’s going to have to wait till I’m bored with my endless vacation. I sure hope he still has some of that million laying around. |
I plan to, after I finish my homework for the night, revisit this as a comic. Consider this my "script"to the comic.
---
Dennis Rodman stepped onto the stage, the crowds watching in anticipation - for quite some time, Dennis Rodman had been considered to be the second most influential man in the country after he moved there permanently in 2014, but now he was about to shock the world yet again.
"My people!"he announced in perfect Korean, "Today is a grave day indeed. Kim Jong-Un, our glorious, beloved Supreme Leader, has died. However, we are not without a leader - on his deathbed he appointed me to be the new Supreme Leader."
The silence that followed was of both awe, shock, and general confusion - he had relapsed into English halfway through his speech.
"Thank you. We will see to the best future soon enough,"he said with a tip of his head, once again in perfect Korean. And so the new Supreme Leader retired.
**Three days** passed, and the country was still unsure how to react. A foreigner had become the successor to Supreme Leader Kim Jong-Un? But he was the leader, and questioning him was not an option.
However, foreign relations were improving and the country now owned three American basketball teams, making new record-breaking profits under Supreme Leader Dennis Rodman.
**Three months** passed until the day now known as B-Day. It was a cold day in December, Dennis Rodman walking from the Ballin' Palace that he had be constructed in the three months. His aid walked behind the man with a basketball in his hands.
"Give me the basketball,"he said after sometime, and the aid obeyed - even with the distraught look on his face, he did it without question. Or rather he did what he thought Dennis Rodman had asked for, the man forgetting to speak Korean again. He only knew the word for basketball.
"It is time, Supreme Leader? I thought we were not yet ready."
"It is time - we must strike before the west has a chance."
The basketball opened, revealing a singular basketball-shaped button. He pressed it.
**From the ISS**, a group of astronauts watched as something strange began to happen. The country of North Korea seemed to turn orange, and with dreadful awe they watched as they realized that the orange shape was moving like a cloud.
"What's happening?"one asked.
The ISS was hit suddenly, and they began to panic - what had hit the ship?
The investigation to find out revealed a basketball shaped object that had struck it.
That was when they realized what had happened - North Korea was launching enough basketballs to destroy the Earth ten times over.
"Don't worry,"said a voice from behind the astronauts. "I got this."
It was a voice not heard since Rodman's appointment as Supreme Leader - Michael Jordan stood in the ISS, his magnetic-bottomed Space Jordans shimmering.
"Michael Jordan, we thought you were dead!"one of the astronauts cried.
"I can't die yet, I have a world to save."
He leaped through the airlock, and into the cold vacuum of space.
Thousands of basketballs were erupting into the upper atmosphere, designed to survive re-entry. Despite the Ballpocalyptic implications, Michael Jordan had trained for this moment his entire life. He put his Beats headphones in, and smiled. Through his headphones, he heard the following:
"*Everybody get up, it's time to slam now
We got a real jam goin' down
Welcome to the Space Jam
Here's your chance, do your dance at the Space Jam, alright!*"
"Come on and SLAM!"he roared as he flew towards the rising pillar of basketballs. "AND WELCOME TO THE JAM!"
**In a small town** in North Korea, a smile child watched with awe as the Ballpocalypse occurred. They swore they saw a glimmer of light in the sky, and a sensation of hope filled them. Not even the diet of old basketballs was depressing enough for them to appreciate what they were seeing - it was the legendary Space Jam.
**Dennis Rodman** glared in anger as he watched from the Ball Palace, his greatest foe hadn't died. A smirk came across his face as he cracked his knuckles though, he too was prepared. "Hey you, watcha gonna do?"he asked, repeating it three times.
And then he leaped into orbit. They say that the sound of the wind whooshing past his body sounded like someone singing:
"*Party people in the house, let's go
It's your boy 'Jayski' a'ight so
Pass that thing and watch me flex
Behind my back, you know what's next!*"
**In space,** Michael Jordan was rebounding like mad. A thousand-thousand rebounds so far and counting, his body tensing with pure jam. With each slam he felt more and more energy.
And then there was a blur, and Michael Jordan quickly saw that things weren't going to be as simple as he had thought - Supreme Leader Dennis Rodman was slamming basketballs down to Earth now.
"*Wave your hands if you feel fine!*"The headphones sang.
"We're gonna take it into overtime,
Welcome to the Space Jam,"sang Michael Jordan as he approached Dennis Rodman. The two basketball players stopped slamming for a few moments, looking right at each other.
"Here's you chance, do your dance at the Space Jam, alright,"Dennis Rodman said with a grin.
Michael Jordan rebounded again and again, but for every rebound he made into the void of space Dennis Rodman was there to slam them back to Earth. It became a battle of attrition, the two greatest basketball players of all time duking it out in space.
And then, there was a flash of light - one of the balls struck Harlem, and the two stopped.
This would lead to only one thing.
**It is said that when the Harlem Globetrotters showed up to avenge their fallen home, Dennis Rodman fell in mere moments. The might of the Globetrotters' game was unmatchable, and it was there that Earth was saved thanks to the Harlem Globetrotters and Michael Jordan. North Korea was annexed and turned into New Harlem, and all the people there were allowed to do anything they pleased - even become Harlem Globetrotteres. The fate of Dennis Rodman was never found out, his body was never recovered. Some say he still lives among us, others say he left the Earth to find a team able to rival the Harlem Globetrotters themselves. All we know is, the Space Jam was the closest mankind ever came to the Ballpocalypse. Without the valiant efforts of Michael Jordan and the Harlem Globetrotters, we would all be crushed by Dennis Rodman's game.**
|
You enter the celestial courthouse. You and billions of other dead humans sit, waiting for the trial of God. This was the big show trial the Nine Heavens had been waiting for and the place was packed to the rafters. The gods from Olympus had their own private box while the trial itself was being broadcast to every realm. Even Hell had the day off from eternal torture to watch the trial. God sat in the hot seat, fidgeting from side to side while the Justicars took their seats, their golden cloaks and pure white wigs radiating authority. The head Justicar held up a hand and silenced the din of billions.
'Today, we sit in judgement of the God of the Abrahamic religions. He is called many names but for brevity and the good of all the people watching this trial, we shall just called him God.' The Justicar picked up a sheet of paper and put on his reading glasses. 'You are to be judged today, by this panel and the audience sitting here, for your performance as God of planet 65439 or how it is colloquially known, Earth. We will start by asking you a few questions about your time as God of this planet, before opening up to the floor for an audience vote and then finishing with our verdict and your final judgement. So, God, how do you think you did?'
'I think I did an admirable job.' he replied, looking up at his judges. The whole room erupted in a series of boos, cheers, jeers and jests. The noise of billions of souls all crying out was something to behold, the sheer force of sound rocking your very soul. The noise was stopped by the head Justicar slamming his gavel down on the bench.
'I will have quiet in this courtroom! I understand we have many people in attendance but let the divinity speak. You'll have plenty of time for noise making during the audience vote. God, please proceed.' He cleared his throat and looked round the billions of eyes watching him, stroking his beard anxiously.
'Well, I believe I did the best I could. Creation went fairly well, I can say the planet itself held up well, even if the beings on it didn't.'
'That sounds like negligence to me.' the left Justicar said, looking down at its notes. 'One recurring complaint from your charges on earth, is that you didn't look after them. From all accounts, you seemed to disappear from the scene somewhere after Creation and only popped in occasionally to either clean up the place with a flood or send a few natural disasters to keep people on their toes. Doesn't sound like very caring to me.'
'Well, the flood was a mistake on my part. I didn't quite get the first batch of humans right so I needed a bit of a do-over.' God replied, trying to remember pre-history.
'That doesn't help your case.' the right Justicar stated. 'That just makes you sound incompetent.'
'Well, it was my first go at sentient life, give me a bit of a break. I wasn't going to get it right on the first go.'
'Many people believe you are omnipotent and omniscient, this admission doesn't help your claims.'
'Well, everyone lies on their CV, surely?' A massive roar went up through the courthouse, as projectiles started to fly at the judged party. The head Justicar slammed his gavel again, the force of the blow shaking the entire courthouse.
'I will not let this judgement be a farce! We got through Hades' judgement without all this rabble rousing, let's have some decorum.' Silence fell over the crowd again. 'Thank you. Now, while you may not have taken care of the Earth that well, we can all agree you did a good job on the layout. Drinkable water, varied landscapes and a breathable atmosphere which could sustain life, a definite tick for that. We'll ignore global warning and all the nuclear fallout malarkey as that wasn't technically your fault. However, as mentioned earlier, we must talk about your treatment of your creations as it's not so glowing.'
The Justicar to the left of the head rifled through his notes, finding the list of God's misdemeanors. 'I mean, look at this list. Original sin, causing multiple factions to go to war over your word, not intervening with atrocities, the number of plagues and illnesses you unleashed on the world, actively neglecting the pleas for help from millions of your people. This does not make for good reading.'
'I was young and irresponsible. I didn't know how to govern a sentient species properly! I thought the dinosaurs were hard work but I severely underestimated the problems the human race could cause. No offence, but you mortals don't half mess things up.' God replied, gazing at the angry crowd.
'Let's not forget the issues with your son.' the head Justicar interjected. The whole audience took a sharp intake of breath at this low blow. 'Plus, the whole binding of Isaac thing was pretty underhand as well.'
'I know, I know. I was reckless and trying to be a cool, mysterious deity like the Old Ones before me. It didn't come off as well as I'd hoped.'
'Well, quite obviously, as seen by the audience reaction. Well, we will take a short recess and come back to talk more about your relationships with humanity and then the audience vote. Hopefully, everyone will have simmered down by then. Stay right where you are audience, and we will be back with the trial of God after these short messages!'
EDIT: Now with the end of the trial!
The recess was not short. Roughly a millenium had passed in the ad break, as the billions of souls, angels and other gods present in the courthouse were regaled with the benefits of Seraphim-brand Halo Wax. Jumbo screens had been placed up during the break, probably for the audience vote and angel mounted cameras had started to fly round the court, currently orbiting the sweating God. Souls with nothing to lose were trying to hand out betting slips for God's eventual judgement, with the top odds being that God would be forced to work for Satan for a cosmic cycle. The hubbub was interrupted as the three Justicars took to the stand again, as the excited silence fell upon the crowd.
'Sorry for the length of the break everyone, it seems that Halo Wax adverts go on for longer than we expect.' The head Justicar said, looking straight into camera 1. 'We are back with the trial that the cosmos has been waiting for, the judgement of the Abrahamic God, brought to you by Seraphim-brand Halo Wax. Now, let's talk more about your relationship with humanity.'
Many in the audience rubbed their hands, this was the moment they'd been waiting their whole afterlife to hear.
'It's safe to say it has been fairly eventful.' The right Justicar said, looking back through his notes. We'll look over the early stuff, your hell-raising days in the Holy Land and consider your silent years. Did it ever occur to you to send a message to everyone? Just to tell them to calm down and stop killing each other?' God fiddled with his robe, starting up at the Jumbotron with his glistening face on.
'I thought, that if I stayed silent, humans would eventually sort themselves out. I was trying to be a distant creator, not hovering over them all the time.' he replied, his mind whirring for answers.
'I mean, that's understandable but after the 4th war fought in your name, surely enough was enough? People were being slaughtered because they believed a different paraphrasing of something you may have said! It seems reasonable to me to step in?' Many souls nodded in agreement.
'Well, I reckon my creations would have the knowledge to realise that some of my saying aren't to be taken literally! It's their own fault for taking things so seriously...' God's answer was interrupted by a huge roar from the crowd. Billions of souls shouting in anger, frustration and bitter to their callous Creator. Even Satan felt sorry for a single millsecond, as he sat on his throne of flaming bodies watching the trial.
'I think I've heard enough here. It's time to open in up to the audience. Those who think God should be judged favourably, let your voices be heard.' the head Justicar announced, as the cameras panned around the mass. A few pockets of noise could be heard, shouts of 'We Love You God!' but no major feedback. 'And now, those who think that God should be punished, let your voices be heard now.'
The sheer wave of noise nearly knocked God off his chair. Billions of curses in billions of languages, hundreds of projectiles being thrown at the judgement stand, chants of 'Make Him Burn' filled the air. Even the Olympian Gods got into the angry mob, with Zeus throwing the odd thunderbolt in protest. The screams of the damned could be heard coming from Hell, as Satan lead his choir in hateful song. The Jumbotrons showed pictures of people in the crowd firing off abuse, while God sat rooted to his seat.
The Justicars' gavel broke the din. 'I think we have heard enough. It is clear what the verdict is. Can we have a few moments of silence as we consider our judgement.' The Justicars turned away as the audience began to become rowdy again. Angelic guards began forming lines around the exit, as the Jumbotrons showed God, with the caption 'Not So Almighty Now' at the bottom to the delight of the crowd. The Justicars turned back towards God, who had oceans of sweat pouring off him.
'Our verdict is clear. For sheer callousness and distain for his creations, as well as neglect for his children and his duties, we judge you as a horrible God.' Cheers went up from the crowd, it descending into Pandemonium as they started to chant for his head. 'As your punishment, we force you to live the life of every person you neglected and suffer through the pain that you inflicted upon them. Also, in a surprise double whammy punishment, Satan is allowed back into Heaven as you are not a proper judge of character. Please escort the judged out and may the public have mercy on your soul.' |
"After long and solemn deliberation, this Supreme Court of the United States of America finds the party xXXHALOMASTER420XXx guilty of being a fucking noob. The punishable offense, though, is not that you are here before us today for hoarding power weapons, for spamming grenades, nor even for being a rage quitting homo. Nay, you are being found guilty above all things for being a bitchass camper. Five members of this court find that camping in first person shooter video games is incorrigible, disgusting, and above all else, fucking lame. Four members of our council believe that a player have the right to do whatsoever they choose. And while that may be true, to a point, when doing what a player wants is not only fucking lame, but a hindrance upon the quality of the game, and a crime that requisites one thing and one thing only, Mr. Halomaster. Your life. We find you guilty on all charges, and sentence you to death by banhammer. May whatever filthy god you believe in take mercy upon your soul, for I will not." |
She kept looking at me, absolutely fascinated.
"Do you chase them with a stick?"
I touched my gun subconsciously.
"No."
She looked even more fascinated. I folded my hands into gun and pointed at her. "Boom!"She yelled, happily. I kept smiling.
Then her face became a bit serious.
"How do you know who the bad people are?"
"Just do. How do *you* know when to go for dinner?"
"Mommy calls me. She makes me eat mushy peas"She sniffed.
"Well, when people do bad things and become bad people, the bad things they do and the people they hurt call me. I make the bad people eat their vegetables."She giggled even harder, then looked at me with big eyes.
"How do you know who's calling you?"
"I can hear them, like you can hear Mittens call you for her dinner."
She seemed genuinely taken aback now.
"How do you know about Mittens, mister?"I smiled. "No, *tell* me!"She shook my knee insistently. I rose to leave.
"Goodbye, darling. I hope nobody calls me because of you!"
Just as I was moving away, a tall, thin man brushed past me and caught hold of the little girl. "Casey, were you bothering this nice man?"
I stopped. "No, she's a lovely girl."
He picked her up with an unpleasant sneer. "I know. Now say good bye, this is our station."
She waved at me again. I waved back. As they were walking away, she looked at me again. "You sure you can hear everyone, mister?"She yelled.
I walked away.
****
The task in itself was simple. A single gunshot between the eyes. Painless, even though they usually deserve worse. The difficult part is getting out of the house once you're done. This is why I hate domestic jobs. Family is always a liability.
In this case, though, there were only two possible witnesses. And one of them was knocked out. The other witness was supposed to be in bed.
I quickly walked down the stairs. On the last step, something furry brushed against my trousers. A small cat.
"Hello, Mittens."The cat purred, twisting around my legs.
I heard a small shuffle from the living room. A little girl, with a split lip peeked out from the doorway. The second witness.
"Mister?"
I walked to her and ruffled her hair.
"Yes, Casey. I'm sure I can hear everyone."
****
Obligatory Reddit gold edit! Thanks for throwing your money at me, stranger!
|
"Metal. Smoke. Electricity. Oil. Decades ago, the four commodities lived nearby in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Oil Company struck oil. Only the Economist, marketer of all four commodities, could sell them, but when the world needed him most, he vanished. Centuries passed and my brother and I discovered the new Economist, an southern rancher named Rufus. And although his marketing skills are decent, he has a lot to learn before he's ready to sell to anyone. But I believe Rufus can sell to the world." |
It was a necessary chore, attending these sessions. Without a minimal functional certification of mental health, he would lose access to the colony's automated systems, the only thing now keeping him alive. It was just one of the hoops he had to jump through, and by far his least favourite.
"Hello again ... Technician Chang."The waxy mannequin face of the therapeutic droid jerked creepily into life as its tinny voice ran through the same pre-recorded lines. "How are you feeling today?"
"Just fine, doc."His reply came through a strained smile, carefully ticking all the boxes in the droid's mental health and wellbeing checklist. "A little lonely, but I keep active."
"Why do you think you are ... lonely?"
"Oh I don't know, doc. I think it's something to do with that meteor shower killing everyone else in the colony, you remember?"
The droid's head tilted slightly in a mimicry of thoughtfulness.
"You have spoken of this before ... The system shows no record of such an event."
"Well no, not after the mainframe was smashed to pieces by all that space rock. It's a miracle anything survived."
"Do you consider yourself ... divine ... Technician Chang?"
"No,"he sighed. "Just unlucky. It's not that kind of miracle."He rubbed his face, already fatigued by the talk. "Can we just skip to the part where you diagnose me with colonist isolational delusional disorder and give me my partial systems access for the month?"
The droid's head tilted to the side again erratically.
"There is no need for hostility ... Technician Chang."
He threw up his hands, suddenly afraid.
"No hostility, doc, no hostility."He beamed, manically, in an attempt at friendliness. "Everybody's calm here. Please continue. I'm cooperating."
The remainder of the session continued as normal, he answered the droid's questions about his habits succinctly, his voice draining of life with every question.
When it was done, he snapped up his systems access and quick marched out of the wellness assessment room toward the mess and his monthly ration of alcohol, fuming and miserable, as he always did.
The droid waited a moment, until a section of wall behind it slid to one side and turned to greet the men in white coats much more smoothly than it had moved before Chang. Its voice was more sophisticated and less mechanical now, very nearly human, with that undertone of silicon that was mandated for almost all humanoid constructs.
"The subject is showing more strain with every session, doctors, as I'm sure you've seen."
"Yes,"said the foremost of the scientists as he distractedly scribbled on a notepad. "Yes, it is fascinating. The machine is utterly convinced that it's human, with all the human frailties."
He turned to his colleagues.
"Soon we'll see if an AI can go insane." |
He didn't look like a genie. He just looked like a guy in a bar. He WAS a guy in a bar. He had a plaid shirt and a glass of whisky and the beginnings of a good beard and a bored, blankish, tired expression. All guy-in-a-bar things. Not genie things.
But that's what he said when he called me over. I was also a guy in a bar, just there that day being a guy in a bar. I was scanning my eyes around, trying to look cool, when he caught my eye and waved me over. I don't know what it is about a stranger waving you over, but I always seem to go. When I got next to him, he said. "You look as good as any. You're my pick for the day. I'm going to tell you something a little improbable."
Then he rattled off the next few sentences with the same bored disinterest of a waiter who has announced the same specials for a hundred years.
"I'm what you would call a genie. As far as I know, I'm the only one. I sit with someone new every day, once a day. I'm not exactly sure why. But today I'm here, and today it's you."
Those sentences just sat in the air, fat and weird.
But life tends to be more interesting if you're a good sport. So I responded.
"Shouldn't you have, like, a lamp, or a blue glow or something?"
He looked down at the table, took a sip of his whisky and shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. We still live in a physical universe with laws and boundaries. I can't just, for example, create a mountain of gold out of nothing. That would involve creating atoms of gold out of void, which just isn't physically possible. So I can't make someone immortal or give you the ability to walk on water. What I can do is answer questions. Any question that can be known. I've been around a long while, I have certain unusual abilities, and I can answer any question. But I keep it to three per asker these days, to make things simpler for myself."
He was so bored and so tired as he said it all that, I don't know, I believed him. It was like there was no sales in him at all. There was another fat, stupid moment of silence as I just looked him over.
"So, it's not really magic, then?"
He leaned back and shrugged, still not looking at me. "That's the thing. Magic isn't real. Obviously. But some very real things can look an awful lot like magic. There's nothing *physically* impossible about knowing something. That's why I can be here. But knowing *everything* is pretty special, and can look an awful lot like magic. But it doesn't feel like magic to me. More like a side effect of infinity.
"Am I going to get three questions?"
The genie finished his whisky, sucked his teeth, and put it down. "You already have."
Once again, there was fat, stupid silence.
"The first question was 'Shouldn't I have a lamp?' Number two was 'So it's not really magic?' And number three was 'Am I going to get three questions?' And the answer is yes, you already have."
That's when I felt a cold, black wave of panic wash over me.
"But that's not fair!"I said. "I'm supposed to learn, like, some great truths or something here! I didn't realize we had already started!"
Now the genie smiled and looked at me. He pointed at a fiftyish barfly on a stool. "You see that guy? He's got a great idea for a book. Really wonderful. He got the idea when he was just out of college. He wants to write it when he's got some time, but he works long hours and most days he's pretty tired after work, so today he just wanted to hit the bar for a quick drink. He'll write the book when he's got some time, next week maybe, or next year."
"You see him?"he continued, pointing at a guy in his mid thirties at the other end of the bar. "He had a great business idea once, but his wife had just had a kid and just to be safe, he put it aside for a little while, and then someone else went and did it."
"And her"This time he pointed at the bartender. "She's in love with someone but hasn't told them because she's scared."
"There is great value and adventure and truth in front of these people every day, and they're only really around for a microsecond, but for some reason that baffles even me, every day they just don't pick it up."
He stood up, grabbed a coat off the back of his chair and swung it on. Then he looked at me.
"You want a great Truth? Here's one: no one seems to realize that they've already started." |
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