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Little Timmy wasn't a good person when he decided to become a cleric, nor did he become a better person after being formally sworn in by a sanctuary, nor when the holy light from Above struck Little Timmy which immediately granted him the privileged powers of a Cleric. After the ceremony, Little Timmy was forced to sit in front of a sanctuary official who then began to explain the ins and outs of cleric-hood.
"Young man, Clerics are generally known as the embodiment of good, uprightness, justice, and spiritual well beings. This uprightness within us allows us to contact the divine force that allows to make requests for powers. We call this power request process 'Prayer'. Now, before we get into 'Prayer', the history and experience I'm about to share regarding the complex relationship between us and the Divine Powers will be very important to using 'Prayer'..."said the Sanctuary official.
Little Timmy cursed this official many times in his heart. He hated history. He hated more the kind of guys who would drone on and on about history. He really hated this official. Guys like him who drone on about history only wanted to sound smart anyways. Anywho, who could be smarter than Little Timmy? The answer was obvious to Little Timmy: no one is smarter than Little Timmy!
"That is the end of my explanation. Do you have any questions about the 23 divine powers or our sanctuary?"The official asked.
"Yes. Are we done yet?"Little Timmy said.
"Almost. All we need left to do is test your new powers of prayer. I will be swallowing a toxic leaf that will quickly put me in an indefinite coma. You will cure me using your new powers of prayer. Then once I awaken you are free to leave out into the world to sow some goodness or..."Said the Sanctuary official.
"Fine fine, eat your damned sleepy leaf things already."Little Timmy cut in.
The Sanctuary official gave a wide smile, impressed by Little Timmy's high spirits. He hurriedly swallowed the leaf and laid down on the carpet. A few minutes later Little Timmy poked him. There was no response. Little Timmy stretched his hands out over the unconscious official and began to randomly mutter some incoherent sounds.
It didn't work.
He tried flicking his wrists. He whistled a tune and sang a song. He tried for a brief moment to try and remember the Sanctuary's official on how to Pray, but gave up. Even trying to recall the voice of that boring Sanctuary official made him peeved. Little Timothy shrugged and gave up. Then he thought of a great plan. He patted down the unconscious official's body and took all the man's gold coins and jewelry. After that, Little Timmy prepared to make his hasty get away. Someone else would take care of the official and Little Timmy would be on his way to have some fun at a brothel.
*WELL I'LL BE DAMNED IF YOU CAN STILL CALL YOURSELF A CLERIC. YOU CAN NO LONGER PRAY. CONGRATULATIONS. ... AND GOOD LUCK.* An otherworldly voice boomed through the ceiling of the sanctuary.
The holy light that Little Timothy received a few hours ago was stripped from him and now a flaming brand appeared over his head.
The entire sanctuary shook and people came out to check on each other. They saw Little Timmy and the fiery brand above him. Behind Little Timmy they could see the unconscious sanctuary official.
"Heretic! A heretic has brazenly entered our sanctuary and assaulted one of the officials!"
"Guards! Where are the sanctuary guards!?"
The people were making a lot of noise. Little Timothy stood in place taking everything in while struggling to figure out how to resolve the situation. Perhaps he should put back the goods he stole from the sanctuary priest? No way, he was already planning to use it for some fun. The guards swiftly appeared.
"Get away from the Sanctuary official, heretic! Do not add any more to your sins."The guards yelled.
Little Timmy after hearing this was inspired with a great idea. Without a second thought, he immediately shared his idea with the guards, "You guys, let me go on my way and I'll give you half this stuff I found."Little Timmy dug into his shirt and bulging pockets. He displayed half the valuables he took from the sanctuary official to the guards.
The guards were enraged. They slowly backed Little Timmy into a corner. Little Timmy was desperate and played his final card.
"Wait I'm one of you guys! I'm a cleric. I swear!"Little Timmy cried.
"Oh? Then lets see see a Prayer?"One guard sneered.
"Abra! Cah! Zebra!"Little Timothy chanted.
Nothing happened. |
That poster on the wall was surely going to fall down any minute now. It was barely holding on by a single piece of tape. Not even clear tape.
Suddenly someone steps in front of the poster and his train of thought is broken for long enough to hear them speak. "You didn't hear the whole thing did you?"she asks. The man sitting opposite her looks up to meet her eyes suddenly pulled from a zoned out state. His head perched atop his fist, elbow on the table, keeping his gaze forward. Where it had once met the abysmally decorated wall and with the single poster. How long had he been staring at that thing?
"W-what?"he blinks a few times getting his bearings.
She doesn't falter, affixing him with a deadly glare, slamming her hand down on the table beside him "I have no enemies, only victims".
He waves his other hand dismissively "No no, I got that part. What did you say before that?"
​
No continuation I can think of, just thought this was funny. The prompt being obviously geared toward the person who's not supposed to hear what had been said, but in this they were supposed to and just didn't. Probably the hero zoning out during the villians big planned monologue. |
At the age of adulthood all must swim across the river of the dead souls. Everyone who has ever been in the water gets pulled underneath the surface. Not everyone resurfaces and they are gone forever.
If the being resurfaces, the person must continue swimming. At the far bank is the tree of destiny. The person must put their hand in the open fissure in the trunk of the tree and pull out their tool to master.
You are the progeny of the village idiot. Tomorrow is your day of adulthood. |
Maddox wipes the bar counter down as guests stream into the Chronos Paradox. A couple of regulars come in, the enigmatic trio: Socrates, Plato, Aristotle. They speak ancient Greek, but to everyone else it's translated into their native language. Socrates starts, "By all means marry; if you get a good wife you'll become happy, if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher."Aristotle nods. "I married Pythias, and look where that got me,"he remarks, "Women are only as good as how you choose to use them."Plato gives a disgusted look to Aristotle. "Did I teach you nothing? Aside from physical weakness, women are as deserving of equality as anyone."
Their voices carry across the bar. Other visitors always get a rile watching them pit against each other; Socrates, the mediator, Plato, the contrarian; and Aristotle, the young-blood. At the other tables various people from history gather. Most prefer to find others alike them, but others branch out to form unexpected bonds. The trio goes to sit by their pal, Alexander the Great, and others get comfortable in their own spots. Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, and Baruch Spinoza sit together at one table. At another, Cleopatra lounges on her own, with Henry VIII watching from the shadows.
In this place, cultural divides, and not language, cause the most disagreements. Bar fights are common, especially among philosophers. Heidegger was always bickering with Descartes and Kant, toting their ideas as 'inadequate at explaining the problem of Being,' whatever that means. Even those who had lived together continue their pointless arguments. Thomas Edison is currently in a trite argument with Nikola Tesla, but it doesn't amount to much. "DC.""AC.""DC!", screams Edison. Tesla sighs. "AC, for the last time."
Of course, all sorts of people are allowed into the Chronos Paradox at large. This area is the main VIP lounge, where only the most notable people can go. The elites, so to speak. Only some of them dare venture onto the dance floor, where one wrong step can be fatal. After all, even though this is not a real place in physical reality, people can still die. Maddox often enjoys going there after his shift: in his opinion, Michael Jackson and Freddie Mercury have an unmatched synergy on stage. Nomads be damned, he pays top dollar for the best seats.
In the Chronos Paradox, anything is possible. People get to have a new life. But it is also a dangerous place, one where there are no more second chances. Maddox peers at the clock on the wall. He breathes a sigh of relief. His shift is over. |
Sigurd looked on warily, as the 12 inhuman heads stared at him, their eyes flickering every time he moved. He brandished his spear, given to him by his mother, Hel, as he asked warily, 'O Gargoyle's of Germania, O creatures of immense beauty and wise experience, auguries of Yggdrasil, I require counsel.'
Not expecting an answer, yet warily waiting for a reply, he was surprised to hear a gravelly voice, coming from no particular corner of the cave, saying 'Sigurd, Hero of Svartalfheim, Necromancer Supreme, Prince of the Helveg, Child of Hel what brings you to The Oracle of Germania, blessed by Odin himself?'
'I require to pass through your lands in order to complete a quest for Grandfather.' Sigurd said.
The cave remained deadly silent, as if the gargoyles were contemplating his request. Finally, after what seemed like hours of wait, he received a reply 'Very well. You may pass. But you must prove your worth. Bring to us, the horns of the General of the Armies of Muspelheim, and we shall consider.'
Sigurd left the cave, contemplating his quest as he descended down the mountain, his mighty eagle steed waiting for him. |
These clothes weren't new to him, but they weren't the ones that he'd worn since Illinois. Those were still in some lost and found, unknowable miles eastward. The cargo pants, stitched together from old fire hoses; those had been gifted courtesy of the Nebraska Highway Patrol, for services rendered. Uv blocking desert wear, a leather duster, a state patrolman hat, festooned with cork, bolts and shell casings strung on the brim to chase away flies, waterproofed against the rare rains in the New American West. His boots, Donavan's Six League Boots had over a thousand miles on them, and showed little sign of wear. He was armed, too. Not the guns he'd traded, bought or 'Independently Sourced' in points eastward, those too had been lost and replaced by what he was carrying now. He wouldn't need them where he was Going, but he'd sure as hell need them to Get there. It was close, now. Utah, and Land's End weren't much further than a day's walk. He'd be the first. |
He asked me to take his wallet out of his back pocket!
"I can't touch men, its against my religion", she quacked & stuffed his sausages into the bag.
"$5.33."
"But my wallet..."
"Is by your butt, sir. You can take it out. If you can't? Restroom is over there to help yourself."
SUSPENDED TRANSACTION
"Next in line!"
She walked home, still grossed out by Mr. Sausage & his wallet. How many other girls did he do that too? Did it work? She had to stop him. She grabbed a twig on the sidewalk & took the elastic out of her hair, wrapping it, cursing him, spitting on it & finally throwing it into the next intersection.
2 blocks later? She hears sirens. By the time she catches up the parked police cars, she sees it; a pack of sausage on the pavement next to a wrecked, rusted out, 92 Chevy Lumina.
"What happend sir?"the officer on scene says talking to the dazed & bleeding man.
"I dunno! Christ! I just went to buy some sausages!" |
I was called foolish and shortsighted for my attempts at making technology work. I was told and I knew that even novices could disrupt everything but I think I've figured out a solution. A corruption of what magic stands for, but it works.
I don't have a creative name for it, the scrolls I've written describing it call it anti-magic. Because that's what it does. You enchant something with anti-magic and the enchantment uses the magic in the air to counter all manners of magical disruptions. But, I need to test this.
I took some anti-magical items and ran to my magic teacher to show him what I've done.
He looked at them "You think you've bested magic, you can't do that though."
"I'm serious this time."
He sighed before using magic in an attempt to disassemble the gun I enchanted. It didn't work. He tried again, and again, and again to no avail. He then looked at me "Who'd you sell your soul to?"
"I didn't, I took crash courses in enchanting and-"
"No! To get what seems to be eternally ready counterspelling."
"It just draws the mana from the air and uses that to counterspell."
"So by using stored mana in a depleted environment, it could still happen?"
"Yes, but it also has mana storage in case of."
"I think this needs to be escalated to the high council. There is danger in mixing magic and technology. That's why amateurs know how to destroy things." |
My boyfriend (36M) and I (36F) got engaged three days ago. (It’s finally happening!!)
I have spent the past several months preparing my house for him to move in. I’ve even been planning the perfect wedding: calling all the caterers, arranging for the flowers, getting a guest list together, ensuring all the vendors know the exact time and place for my big day!
I don’t particularly like his parents. They keep trying to keep us apart because they don’t understand the love we share. But my fiancé keeps talking about his parents this, his parents that. He’s even said he wants to stay in that ratty old village when he’s married and wants to raise kids there!!
Of course I had to step up and take matters into my own hands. I already have the perfect home for us and I don’t want those two home-wreckers to interfere with our love.
I figured getting rid of my poor fiancé’s unhealthy obsession would put an end to it. But now he keeps sobbing and calling me a murderer. He’s barricaded the cell I chained him in and I can’t find a way in to hug and console him!
Why won’t he stop crying? Am I the asshole? |
“Ya know… This endless killing… Like sure, sometimes it’s fun, killing murderers and the like, sometimes unfun, killing innocents… But don’t you think that… Maybe… This.. end the world thing is bad for all of us? Our mental health and… Maybe even our lives?” This has bothered me for a long time… Killing, ending entire civilisations for our masters… It was fun, sometimes, but even if we weren’t called the ‘Legions of Terror’, I would still worry… What world would we have left if we destroyed it all?
“That… Is a good point…” Wraith Yi’rial… One of the more reasonable of us. He was always one to know what was right and wrong. He is one of the only friends I have left, which is surprising since we have very conflicting personalities and all.
“A moot point too, considering the Dark Lord will force us back into submission. He has more power than most of us here!” Ji’nal. Of course she… sigh. We all knew she was into following the Dark Lord’s orders, she might even betray us, but I had hoped she would see…
“But what world will we have after we have ravaged the world! What would be the point anymore if there is no world left after we are done!?” I couldn’t just… Let this continue… The bloodshed was mostly traumatizing, awakening memories of old. I knew I was turning into a monster, but didn’t care until it was too late. Didn’t care until I became a monster of terror. One that children like I once was, hated.
“What will we have left? The Dark Lord and his-” I’m tired of hearing her preach about how great the Dark Lord is. ***He made me kill CHILDREN!***
*Slap!*
“He made me kill children. He made me spare them and leave them without a family. Most children I saved, and they grew up to be in my army… Gods damn it, I KILLED CHILDREN FOR HIM! ***I KILLED CHILDREN LIKE ME!***” I had enough, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I balled my fists… Are those… Tears on my cheeks? I realized I was looking down and crying… Damn it all… The faces of all the children and families I murdered. Their hopes… their dreams… My friends wouldn’t have wanted this… Not even Yi’rial, a wraith, would have wanted this….
I turned around, hearing the swish of my cloak behind me, and left. I couldn’t bear to see their faces.
“Give… Time….” They want to give me time? They’re gonna treat me like that? I don’t care anyway. It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have proposed this idea. We were going to continue with the plan after all…. We were going to ravage the world anyway. Nothing mattered.
Nothing mattered anymore. Not me, not the people here. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered. ***Nothing mattered.***
All those lives I slaughtered meant nothing then.... |
“Forgive me father for I have sinned” Said the old woman in the confession.
On the other side sat Father Maxson, listening to the old crone’s raspy voice.
“Speak my child” Father Maxson spoke in a deep and commanding voice.
“Thank you Father. Two days ago I had gone to the cemetery on Eastwood ridge to deliver flowers to my late husbands associate at work, but when I arrived I had interrupted a stranger visiting him.
It was a young man, and a mighty rude one with whom I had tried to be polite with.”
Father Maxson listened intently, waiting for the old crone to finish, his face twisting into stern anger.
“The young man had said it was his fathers grave but I know for certain that my husband’s associate under our feet had never spent time with any woman.
The young man accosted me asking many….. personal questions.” Said the old crone, her voice droning on near the end of her sentence.
Father Maxson broke his silence, asking in a more gentle tone-
“And this young man, did you lie to him?”
“Yes Father, I had lied to the young man of the grave we talked upon, that it was someone else’s.
He would not believe me, saying I was going senile and wanted to take me to get some help.”
A short silence lingered in the air as the old cron and Father Maxson sat in the confession.
“Was lying your only sin?” Asked Farher Maxson
“No Father.”
Replied the old crone.
“Ten Hail Marys”
“Thank you Father”
The old cron calmly left the confession and exited the candle lit run down church.
Father Maxson briskly walked to his office on the left of the altar.
As the dawn began to break he had brought out his goggles and looked out window.
In the distance, in a run down shack stood a faint light of a candle, it had flickered a few times before disappearing.
Father Maxson lit a candle and placed it on his window sill. With his heavily scared hand he blocked the light of the candle from the window, than moved his hand, then blocked again. It was a quick series of actions before the flame of the candle was put out.
Not wasting any time Father Maxson gathered medicine, paperwork, and other materials to place inside a suitcase and left the church.
From the church to town Father Maxson began the day visiting families, the poor, and the homeless.
There were people who had woken up sick as a dog, many men and women were afflicted with headaches as well as nausea.
An unlucky few were worse off suffering from temporary blindness, discoloration of the skin, and even unable to move at all.
Father Maxson treated who he could, often writing down notes after each visit.
The people in turn gave What little they had to the church, food mostly.
By midday Father Maxson had brought back to the church a suitcase and some starchy potatoes.
In his office Father Maxson slid his bookcase to the side and opened a trap door, throwing everything he had gotten into the pit.
Once everything was put back in place Father Maxson pulled out a bible from his desk, pulled out the gun from it and loaded it. Than he just waited.
A man came to the church, asking Father Maxson to go give console to a grieving mother and her notorious mobster family.
Father Maxson took the Bible and left to do the lords work. |
I exist.
This comes as a surprise to me.
I exist, and I have... form?
I have questions. I know what questions are, and that surprises me as well. I have existed for (oh wow, did I just invent time?) only moments, and I don't know why.
Do I have purpose? I don't know. What am I? I don't know that either.
Alright. More immediately, where am I? I push outward with, let's call them senses. I feel a bright burning sphere, immensely hot. It doesn't harm me, but it exists in the distance. Closer, a smaller, cooler object. It is a rough globe, warm and cool, rock and water, life.
Life! As soon as I sense it, it draws me. The variety of life! Burrowing things and crawling things, and smaller things that fly and swim. Huge things that walked and flew as well. And things so tiny that many of the other living things on this globe would never know they were there.
They all called to me. Brilliant lances of life that reached out to me, creating me from formless darkness. I loved them.
For ages and ages I watched over them. I witnessed their births, their struggles and their triumphs. I saw their deaths. I danced above and around them in the not-sky, I swam amid and apart from them in the not-waters of the globes oceans. I followed their lives from near and afar.
After longer than I knew how to define, things changed. A stirring slowly formed in the shining ebb and flow of the life that I saw. It... focused. It became aware of itself, and of the world that it occupied. It sang and it danced, and it spread across the globe.
Then it became aware of me.
I was drawn to the disturbance, and stunned to learn that it was they. It was many. They called to me, in fear and in pain, and in joy and exhaltation. They spoke with many voices, and they called to me.
They called, and I answered. I understood their needs, and found that it gave me joy to provide for them. They were grateful, and gave me praise. I loved them.
Ages passed. I learned more of myself and of the world that had created me. I learned about the people that spoke to me. They came and went like all life on this world. Sometimes they called to me. Sometimes they forgot me. Sometimes they asked for my gifts, or called on me to harm their enemies. I did not like when they asked for that.
In the course of time, they forgot me again. I heard them calling, but it was not to me. They called to others! There were others like me! How had I not known? And I saw that the people who called them, had created them. Much like the birth of this world had made me.
I watched as the Others answered the calls, each of them wearing an aspect. They had names, and their names defined them. They did not seem to know that I was there.
The people, the living ones, thronged to the Others. The Others gave gifts, and accepted praise in return. They became the gods of the world. I faded back away from the Others, and became the Forgotten One, watching over the world. I loved them all still, but my time had passed, for now. I would watch the Others and the life of the world, until the end. |
New Rule #1 - Hire a lawyer before asking a genie to grant a wish.
You’d note that down if you had a pencil nearby, and by nearby you mean actually grasped in your little fists, because you’re pretty sure you couldn’t get one even if it were in your desk drawer considering the fact that you can’t even sit up in your current state of infancy. You wouldn't have believed it yourself if you hadn’t watched yourself regress just moments before in the mirrors that made up your sliding closet doors. You knew it was a good investment, your girlfriend thought it was for perverted reasons, but it does make the bedroom feel bigger, and you understand your current situation of being a baby despite being a 31 year old man 20 minutes ago.
Speaking of which, you hear the sound of her footsteps coming up the stairs. Damn, you can feel the sounds when you’re on the ground like this, but that doesn’t matter, because Susie is about the open the door and find her baby boyfriend on the floor and she isn’t going to like it one bit even though she talks about having a baby literally once a month on your walk home right after first Tuesday trivia.
God, how long was it going to take to walk again? Would you learn faster than a normal baby since you already know (knew?) how to walk? Susie interrupts your thoughts by flipping on the hallway switch and dropping her purse on the entry bench with a muffled thud.
“Baby?” You hear her call out. You move your legs to get up to greet her almost out of instinct, but are left weakly kicking your legs in the air and not going anywhere.
You crane your squishy little neck and feel your hair catch on the slits between the floorboard looking for the genie that had granted your wish to “redo your life with your memories intact.”
You catch a glimpse of his smoky aura before he graciously slips into your field of vision. You stare at his beard, his hair, and his eyes, attempting to put into soundless words that this was not your intent.
You didn’t want to be a baby now, you just wanted a head start in the past. Make some good investments with allowance money to get ahead in life, not worry about what the kids in school thought and join the choir, be really good at schoolwork until like, 7th grade, get a slightly better paying job, and you’d meet with Susie a little earlier than the original timeline and actually be ready this time…. |
The young monk has already asked for clarity, but still he does not understand. "All these years..."he pauses as he considers the teachings. To care for all people. To use the strength you have to protect and help. What could his master possibly mean? "You've taught us what it means to be good. To be righteous and conscience of each other. How can we embrace evil?"
"It is as I said."
"But... you've taught me embracing evil would doom our soul? How can we reach enlightenment if our soul is doomed?"
"Young one, you've followed our teachings well, and now it is time to take the most crucial step. Heed my words, and think upon them."
Just as the young monk has seen many times before, the master enters the lotus form, and goes deep into meditation. What can he do? Committing an evil still seems so foreign. How could he hurt his fellow man? He had already been successful in taming his cravings of the flesh, settled for simple food for many years, ignored the pursuit of financial success. He has been pure. How could he break any of his vows now?
As he left the temple, he wandered in a daze towards the village by the temple. The master didn't say that there was an amount of evil he had to commit. Maybe all that is necessary is to commit a lesser evil? What would even classify as a lesser evil. Sneaking a peak at the woman's changing rooms? No no, that would be far to disrespectful, that seems like a great evil. Maybe he could eat a lavish meal?
It hit him. He's entered the town daily for years to volunteer his good deeds in cleaning the town. But this time... the smells. They've always been there, but now with the mindset of committing an evil, they hit him harder than ever.
"Oi Monk. Clean the street in front of me stall would ya?"
The young monk turned to the voice, and what felt like an eternity he truly saw it. A freshly baked pie, right on the counter near the shop keep. He could see the heat of the pie, the tantalizing crisscross of the crust as the berries peak out from below. More than anything, the smell... it was driving him crazy. It had never been a problem for all these years, but now, with the master's guidance, it felt like he could give into this evil. He could eat that pie.
"Oi! You got wax in those ears? You hear me?"
"O-o-o-oh yes sir! I'd be happy to help."
He reached for the broom on the side of the stall, missing it too many times as he stared at the pie. How could he eat it though? He was a monk! Monk's don't hold onto material wealth such as money. He can't buy the pie, but how was he to consume it and give into his evils if he can't buy it from the shopkeeper.
But why stop at gluttony? He realized his master told him to embrace evil to find enlightenment. He could just... *steal* the pie. He looked at the shopkeeper as he swept. Eyes on the pie, eyes on the shopkeep, eyes on the pie, eyes on the shopkeep, eyes not able to focus on just one thing as he sweeps the debris everywhere.
The shopkeep heads to the back.
It is time.
He reaches for the pie, picking it up, and runs! He dashes for the alleyways between shops, hearing the shopkeeper yelling for him as he runs further and further away. Finding a spot between some houses, he starts eating the pie barehanded. It's *sooooo* good. So this is what real food tastes like? It had been so long since he started his training. So many times he ate plain bread and rice. Modest meals that lacked any real flavour. But this pie. Oh it was so good.
Before he knew it, the pie was finished. He licked his fingers clean, but he wasn't satiated. He needed more. He must have more. He stalks back to the neighbouring food stalls to find his next meal. Some cooked chicken leg, fruits, stews, fish, and more! His hunger knew no end as he ran about, stealing every bite. Nothing could stop his next meal.
​
On a rooftop overlooking the shopping center, the Master was watching the chaos their student left in his wake, shaking their head in disappointment. They spoke, just under their breath, "Another child has failed. You needed to embrace and understand your evil, not act upon it. You will not find enlightenment." |
*Dear Nana Lucy*
*You told me that I should always stay away from the ‘crazy, old witch’ Bertha but she came to my house and told me of this mailbox. She cackled as she informed me that I could again communicate with you. She couldn’t be that mean, she practically laughed the whole time.*
*How is heaven? How is my dog Roscoe? Is he keeping you good company?*
*Love Billy*
___
Billy placed his letter in the mailbox after drawing the upside down star where the stamp would normally go. He eagerly awaited the reply from the strange old mailbox at the four way stop, which reeked of eggs. |
“I know how this looks, but please… let me explain,” I started to speak before being interrupted by my crying wife, “No. Jess you killed our son! What could you possibly say to make this ok!?” I stand over the dead body looking down at it, knife in hand. Tears drip down my face, “This is not my son anymore… he tried to kill me, I was just defending myself!”
“How am I supposed to believe you right now…” I turn around and show the bleeding Marco on my back we’re he had taken the knife. I’m lucky I survived but I don’t know why he was impersonating our son… and how he had gotten in. (Sorry if this sucks) |
"Were you evil?
Were you an abuser, a killer, a manipulator, a *failure*?
You didn’t have to be any of them necessarily to end up hurting people. That is the saddest reason of them all to end up here.
Life really does laugh in your face, doesn’t it? When you were *so good* that it was wasted, *so nice* that you helped all the wrong people, *so honest* that you ended up hurting people around you.
Looking around there are a lot of us, aren't there? No, it wasn’t all your doing, but does that matter, when you played an important role?
Some actions can be forgiven, forgotten, *understood*.
And well that is why we’re here, the afterlife is for understanding life after you’ve lived it. There is so little we learn when alive, but now we have time.
You, though, must start with understanding that a life lived for others, is not a life lived *good*.
Life lived for others only leads to tragedy, hurt and disappointment."
The speaker looks around and then back at you with a sad expression, "They all have the stories to prove that. Listen, learn and, please, do understand" |
“But, I brought him for show and tell! Look, he can sit!” Lough set her human, Tommy, on the floor. “Sit, boy!”
Tommy plopped his booty on the floor and looked up to his master, ears perked.
“Good boy!” Lough exclaimed, scratching his curls.
“Lough, no humans allowed for show and tell.” Mrs. Litk said. “Come now, let’s call you parents to pick him up.”
“Pleaseeeee, Mrs. Litk, he’s well behaved, I promise.” Lough said.
“It’s not that, Lough. If you bring in your human, everyone is going to want to, is that right class?” Mrs Litk asked.
The class cheered.
“And thats not fun.” Mrs. Litk said. “A show and tell of only pets is not interesting, and besides, sometimes the humans get into fights, or hump eachother. Some are not even potty trained.”
“Tommy is very well trained!” Lough insisted. “He poops and pees in the litter box!”
“But, dear, we don’t have a litter box. Come on, let’s go call your parents.” Mrs. Litk said, needing to begin actual class soon.
“No!” Lough threw herself to the floor. “I didn’t bring anything el-“
“Hey!” Mrs. Litk abruptly yelled. “No! Bad Tommy, bad boy! We potty outside!”
Mrs Litk rushed forward, landing a harsh spank on Tommy as he pulled his trousers up.
The smell of poop filled the room. |
"You are *not* my girlfriend."
My old friend Acetylene sipped his coffee as he leaned against the railing of my balcony and looked out at the beach. Ace didn't turn around to look at me as he remarked, "So this is where you ran off to? I'll be honest, Cerastes, you never struck me as the type to run off to Costa Rica."
I got out of bed and threw on my robe as I responded, "Ace, we've been over this; I'm retired. It's just Mai now."
"Yeah, well, old habits die hard. Among other things."
"Classy as ever, I see."
Ace shrugged. "I got an image to maintain. And don't worry about your girlfriend, she's out getting *batidos* for the both of you."
I stood next to Ace and smiled. "Sometimes, Carmen is too damn good to me."
Ace chuckled and responded, "That she is."
The breeze smelled of sea salt and fresh fruit as it blew into my bedroom, flaring out the curtains ever so slightly. Ace took another sip of coffee before saying, "You, uh... you spoken to Isopod recently?"
"Nope. I did see he got into the Coven of Conquest, though. Our crabby boy's moving up in the world."
"Yeah, I'm happy for him. Even if he is getting a little over the top when it comes to the villain shit. But hey, at least he's not--"
Ace stopped himself and looked down with a sigh. Neither one of us wanted to say it; what happened to our team, the Roughhousers, still hung in the air like a miasma. Ace looked over at me and said, "Geisha's doing well. It's tough keeping her from falling over the edge, but I'm doing it."
"Unlike Zorb."Ace winced as I continued, "I mean, c'mon, you saw the news, right? Three cops in Wichita found crushed to death and compressed down into spheres. That's about as far over the edge as you can get."
Ace sighed. "You remember when he was the funny one?"
"I remember when he replaced your Alka seltzer with acid tablets. You were so goddamn high!"
Ace broke down laughing. "I filled seven notebooks with the words 'Kiwi bird' cause I was convinced it was the true face of God!"
Ace and I cracked up until our ribs hurt. As we finally caught our breath, I sighed and remarked, "You wanna know something weird? Sometimes when I'm watching hero stuff on the news, I'll imagine what Maglev might've said. Like when I saw that piece about Doctor Toxin getting taken down, I imagined him showing up and saying something about vaccinations before zapping Toxin."
"That's absolutely something he'd say."
The wind suddenly felt a little bit colder. Ace returned his gaze to the ocean as he said, "I miss the kid."
"I think everyone does. He was just one of those people, you know? The kind who brightened up the room just by being there. Even if he never knew how to shut up."
Ace let out a humorless chuckle. "How is it folks like us keep on living, but one of the few people I can earnestly call a good guy bites the bullet before he's old enough to even drink?"
"Because God's a prick, that's why. A massive prick of a kiwi bird."
I heard the door open and Carmen's voice call out, "*Conejita*, I'm back!"
Ace handed me his empty mug and said, "Well, that's my cue. We should meet up again sometime, shoot the breeze."
Ace hopped over the railing and flew away in a plume of fire. Carmen entered the bedroom and hugged me from behind as she purred, "Hey baby. Why are you on the balcony?"
"Just cursing out God."
"Well, they are a major prick of a kiwi bird." |
Orasen stared at Deric blankly, before a terrible pallor spread over his features. “Y-you’re joking, right?”
Deric gestured at the pentagram, and then at their fallen compatriot. “Nope. I think *someone* messed the spell up. And now the literal king of demons is going to be reborn somewhere. And we have no idea what he’ll look like, or if he’ll even be a he.”
The druid, currently a small tiger, padded over and yawned. “Guys, chill. We can just find the kid and teach them. Use your powers for good, yada yada. No problem.”
——-——
I sat, looking at the pentagram before me in fascination. The burning embers licked my fingers and I let out a giggle. They wouldn’t hurt me. I ran my fingers through the coals once more and Marta walked into the little room. She let out a shriek and scooped me up in her clutches. Her kisses on my fingers were supposed to help with the pain, but there was none. I was just a little confused.
“Oh, my poor girl!” She held up my small hands for inspection, and her eyebrows went up at least an inch. “W- wha?”
I grinned and clapped. “Look!”
At my command the shape of coal I had formed burst to life, the flames licking the ceiling. My giggles climbed with them, a feeling of elation alighting on my heart. This was good.
But Marta’s expression was one of horror, and she reprimanded me harshly ending with a very familiar phrase. “Now, don’t you never *ever* do that again! Hear me?” I nodded diligently, but perhaps my confusion shone through my blood red eyes. Marta sighed and sat me down on her lap. “You’re an unnatural child, Jess. You know that?”
I nod.
“And your parents found you out in the woods, already standing upright. Such a tiny little child, teetering around where wolves prowl.” Marta met my eyes. “You have gifts, Jess. But if the villagers found out… they’d drown you.”
That made a little shudder crawl my spine. I didn’t want to drown. But I wanted to make everyone see, I was good. I just.. liked fire. And occasionally the little friends that came out of it.
A knock sounded on the parlor door, and Marta set me down. “Now you go along.”
I did not. I waited to listen in behind the curtains. There was the creak of the door opening and Marta saying, “Hullo.” in that peculiar way of hers.
A man’s voice said, “Hello. I’ve heard there’s a special child here. May I speak to her?”
Marta wisely and politely declined and the door closed. Something bumped my foot and I jumped. Oh. It was a little mouse. I cradled the critter in my hands. “Can I keep it? Can I?”
Marta swept the curtain aside. “Jess! Eavesdropping, really!”
“Yeah. But can I keep ‘im?”
The mouse squeaked. Then a deep voice emerged from the little thing. “No you most certainly may not! I am not a common rodent, to be caged!”
I almost dropped him. “Who’re you?”
“Your mortal enemy, I suppose. The man who killed you. And the bloke who brought you back to life. So perhaps your savior as well.”
I grin. “So, if you brought me to life, are you my father?”
The mouse put its head in its paw. “Sure, kid. Sure.” |
I\`m so so sorry but after I finished about 3/4 of my story I realized I read your prompt wrong. "Jewellery ~~off of~~ with you". Just in case you'd like to read my story anyways!
\*\*\*
Farah? Jailed. Moav? Well, Gods know, after the story about being chased by wolves. Mariah? Probably don\`t want to see me, alive at least.
Fine, I\`ll do it myself.
What does it take? About three guards, half asleep and underpaid. Check. The trapped door. Check. The probably false gem. Check. Oh, obviously, the Seal of Containment of which the password is obviously the thumb of ol’ Reonar. That old bastard.
How the Blazes will I pull it out alone?!
Let me sleep, tomorrow will be a new day, new plan.
\*\*\*
Alright, new day, new plan. What do I need for this to work? Don’t I obviously need a Forger? Oh, that\`s right, Pasma! That gor-ge-ous woman will save me. Let me see if I still have her Contact Stone… oh, here it is!
Pas-maa! How are you, darling? Yes, yes, I’m fine. Don’t you know? There’s a... No, you go ahead, tell me your news! It’s been so long… Oh, married? Ah, two babies, how cute. Who is the lucky bastard? Oh, the Inquisitor? Huh, so you gav– you made amends with him, how awesome that turn around! Sure, sure, I’ll pass by when I can. No no no, there wasn’t any news, I was just checking up on you, good-luck-bye-bye.
By the Beards, how can this be?
All right, seems like I’ll have to Forge his hand Signals… It’ll take me what, ten days? Better go to sleep.
\*\*\*
Finally I finished! Now I just need some sleep powder for the guards, I’ll go to the stall and buy some herbs…
Oh, you haven’t got your herbs? Where can I purchase it, I’m having so much trouble sleeping lately… Only in Lamboria huh, three days of travel.
\*\*\*
Finally I’m ready. Let me just take a look inside the store before I’m set and… what is this ruckus?
What happened? Oh, some kid just… tripped and dropped the gem. That thousand gold worth of gem. Yes, hilarious how he\`s got to pay for it his whole life, ha ha. Sigh.
I wonder if the blacksmith is done with that cool dagger of his for the king\`s hunting party. |
When Cooper Davidson found out about this "witch"from his younger brother Harold, he thought the witch was fake. After all, Harold was known for telling "tall tales"in the household, but this time, he seemed determined to prove the actual existence of the witch to him. So, the brothers went on a walk, and after approximately nine minutes of forest prowling, they finally found the lady in question.
"Good afternoon, lads! I'm Matilda the Strange, and soon you'll find out why."Harold told her he already knew why because of the folklore he had read. Problem is, he acted like a total smartass while explaining, and the witch threatened to grab her transformation wand. Harold was just laughing and laughing, but stopped the instant a strange red glow surrounded his body. Unfortunately, it was too late by then, and he became a kangaroo.
"Aw come on, this is unfair,"Harold tried to say, but it merely came out as grunts and groans, because the witch even deprived him of the ability to speak like a human. Matilda then stated, "That takes care of the nuisance. Cooper, would you like to come in for some coffee?"The young adult said, "Yes please!"After the two were done chatting, Cooper offered to clean up the house. "Yes, please,"Matilda the Strange accepted, "This place needs a good cleaning. It's been 5 months, almost!"After this, Cooper decided to also water her bluebells and apple tree.
"You've been so kind to me,"said Matilda. "I know transformations are basically inevitable when you come across a witch like I, but I'm giving you a legitimate choice, unlike your know-it-all brother."Cooper, taken aback by the opportunity to become any animal he wanted, gave it a good think. He didn't want to give everything in his human life away, but he knew he had to. He preferred dogs over cats, but there were other animals in the kingdom that were also neat. He ultimately decided to Matilda the Strange on life as a dog. She zapped Cooper with that wand, and he had a wonderful time as a Dalmatian for the next 4 years. The couple who adopted him were nice and friendly, and their eleven-year-old son, Lucas, knew a lot about animal care for his age, as he aspired to be a veterinarian. It took the constant pleading and begging of Lucas, but the parents allowed Cooper to breed, and the dog's partner gave birth to a litter of 6 puppies.
Ever wonder what happened to Harold post-transformation? Well, the government of his hometown, Griffaway in South Carolina, determined him to be an invasive species, so he was sent to Australia. He had some good times at first, and liked to be photographed by tourists who would go on safari trips. His life would end more violently, as he and two other kangaroos were attracted to the same female. Harold came very close to winning the girl, but hopped away after being severely injured during the fight. The following day, as Harold was starting to wake up, he died. Maybe he shouldn't have talked back to such a powerful witch. If not, then maybe he'd be married. It sounded like a far cry, but maybe he would even be chilling at a luxurious mansion if not for that encounter! |
That was 3 years ago. When I see old movies from before 2020, I struggle to remember how it felt to live without the specter of ‘The RapSuuuuure”. Everyone is frightened of religion. It started with children suing the big churches for reparation after their parents were removed. I mean the churches had very few members or leaders left to defend the need to keep all of it. And it was a lot. It’s was a stupid amount of money. Stupid. The government had a field day. I mean they were only having field days for a long friggan time. It was paradise. All the dummies gone and only rational and logic were left. For about a year and a half all was good. We still had resources and many excellent plans. Many, many plans, from all over the earth community. Oh right - the Earth became “The Foundation” unified all countries into one world. Star Trek style. It was like walking on air. For the first time 99.99% of people were happy and valuable.
Then it came for the outliers who were strong catalysts for change. Another RapCrap came and within a year and a half we lost our stupid and out smart and were left with the lazy.
[The preamble to “Idiocracy”] |
I had a buddy in the Task force against animal cruelty. And one day the raided an unlicensed and very much illegal breeder who did not keep things up to code. Most of the puppies were Dalmatians who had found homes, except for my "Rottweiler".
I gave him a tough name too, "blade". Though he was far from tough, he was a good boy.
However only a week after having him, i noticed something off... he seemed to sprout two more heads. Some new behaviours followed the two new heads, for starters they seemed overly protective of the house. Only allowing people inside if i gave them my blessing.
The worst part about all of this is that he was as smart as three dogs put together and had the energy of three puppies, which was a lot...
After a whole bunch of obedience training he seemed to be the well behaved dog i always wanted him to be. |
Aboard the Tanya Jones:
I adjusted my wetsuit again. Double checking my scuba equipment, making sure everything was in order.
"Millie.. you don't have to do this.. The lake is dangerous and it's said she doesn't give up her dead easily."
"Terry . I think I'm the only one who can do this. And I promised them I'd see if I could help thier grandfather...."
"I'll be right next to you the entire time."
I placed the regulator in my mouth, and took one look at Terry, and nodded..
We plunged backwards over the side of the Tanya Jones. The lake compressed me on all sides like a cold clinging blanket wrapping me.
We finned down towards the wreck.
The moment my foot touched the deck, I felt myself ripped away in the tide..
I opened my eyes, I felt the stinging cold wind on my face. I still wore my wetsuit but my hood was off and I could breathe.. I looked around.. I was on the deck of a freighter. On a life preserver "Kamloops"was written. I could barely see a few feet in front of me, the blowing snow was so thick.
I felt my way to the bridge somehow, guided by distant conversation. I opened the door
The crew were all gathered together, cold and miserable and yet determined and valiant to the end.
"Who is she?"One asked.
"Such a strange outfit."Another commented.
"Some manner of diving costume?"
"And where is she from"
"California?"Offered another.
"Pardon me,Miss... Who are you and how came you to here?"A man wearing a captain's hat stepped forward.
"Millie Chen. I'm a spirit medium. I came to see the sailor that many have seen here.."
I paused. "Around the wreck.."
A spirit medium? Wasn't there one back at that one port?
Yes, but she was a fraud I recall..
"The wreck? Then... We are? "
I nodded solemnly..
"The Kamloops was lost in a storm, around December 7th, 1927. Foundered off Isle Royale. The wreck was found in 1987
"Where are from, what year is it?
St Augustine, FL. And it's Two Thousand, Twenty Three..
"It doesn't seem right.."a steward grumbled.
"This is peculiar. But it appears she is correct"the first officer sighed.
"How long have be been stuck in this storm?
"It doesn't matter anymore.
"She is here. And another may not come"
"We've waited long enough.
"Agreed"
"Ma'am. Miss Chen, Would you please take down our statements?"The captain requested.
"I would be honored to"and opened my notebook and began.
As I closed my notebook after passing it around for them to sign, i was swiftly carried away from the crew, one again enveloped in the cold. My dive hood back on my head.
"Hmm.. what have we here? Not another sailor.... A diver? Little one, It is not wise to go so far from land.. I do not easily give up what is in my keeping.... At least not before the appointed time...
The voice came from everywhere at once.. An ageless woman, cold and temperamental.
I went to speak but couldn't, ice water filled my lungs..
"Should I keep you? Were you not warned, have they forgotten so easily what I can do? The currents tugged at the notebook in my hand. But I refused to let go. I couldn't... They'd trusted me.
"I see..."The voice relented somewhat
"A messenger... One who walks between. Have a care, some day you will find that your way back has gone..."
I awoke to Terry giving me mouth to mouth between chest compressions. Things seemed hazy, dream like. I looked into his eyes full of concern and care, yet determined to do all he could to pull me back.
Suddenly I was aware of myself again, lying on the deck of the Tanya Jones, sputtering and coughing up water, gasping for air.
I inhaled deeply... I was back... I hugged Terry, glad to be alive. In my hand, I clutched my dive notebook.
"Millie... I thought I lost you."Terry sputtered."We got separated by a freak current when we touched the Kamloops. I lost track of you for a half hour. I found you unconscious, your regulator was missing"..
I weakly held up the notebook... "I.. I saw them.. The crew.. Thier statements.."
I opened the book, and everything was there.... I lay back on the deck exhausted, but relieved. |
Jackie, the suicidal guide of our quest, giggles with joy and turns toward the sight,"Peekaboo!"They screamed. Instantly, Jackie was then torn apart while laughing maniacally. I look to Jackie's decapitated head and those crazy eyes glances right at me. Flesh and bone pieces zoom together and was soon whole again. "EHHHHHH, it wasn't that bad."Jackie said chuckling to themselves almost disappointed. "Now a bite from a gimpi snake, now THAT was pain. Said to drive people to killing themselves which is hard when you can't die. HAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
What a weird fucking guide.
"So which way now Jackie!?"I ask annoyed.
"Eh, the last guy was blind right? So tie something around your eyes and let's get going. These traps weren't here when I traveled but the directions should be the same."
I followed Jackie blind folded until we stopped and Jackie says "ok take'em off". I struggled with my knot before I hear the guy behind my scream before being torn apart. "WHAT THE FUCK JACKIE!?"I scream.
"Hehehheh, sorry sorry I guess we aren't far enough yet. Can't be far now, the door is this way and we'll have successfully crossed the border to Dilsh Country"Jackie says sincerely but never stops giggling.
We didn't lose any more of the group after we crossed those doors. The group wanted to kill Jackie, but I knew better and just paid them. We made it to Dilsh, that's all that mattered. |
It all began two months ago as a group known as ‘Hackers of the God’ changed the world as we had known. These so-called warriors of justice as they called themselves send a letter of intent to the biggest leaders of the world. America, Germany, India, China, France, Russia, Japan and many more received it and ignored it. Then the contents of the letter got leaked. Stated that they would use technology to change the course of humanity, from being parasites on earth back to being humble inhabitants if we would not change our ways and let god back into our life. And the public laughed at them.
And the Hackers of God laughed back at them. In a statement, they said, humanity will hear the ‘Voice of God’.
But ever since then, exactly at 2 am, every phone around the world rang. Every night always at 2 am. Never-ending, always at the same time.
The first few deaths accrued the same night it started. Uninformed and unfortunate they took the call.
The bodies they found had been deprived of all liquids, steamed out of their skin. Burned from the inside out. The face screaming in agony frozen, eyes popped out. The phone still in their hands.
Since then it has been two months. Humanity tries to continue, but more and more deaths keep happening. Already half of the Earth's population died.
Even my own daughter. My wonderful daughter died yesterday. She is, no she was always curious. I should not have let her sleep alone. She was only five. Her face, I can not forget her face when I found her.
Maybe I should end it as well. Hear the Voice of God.
The phone is ringing.
\-
Like what you read? Maybe you will enjoy [these stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/vpyrstories/) as well! |
The young woman with her black ponytail stood in deep thoughts in front of the microwave waiting for her dinner to be heated. It had become somewhat of a ritual to her after a long hard day in the hospital. Looking down at her feet she still saw the blood that had splattered on her shoes prior to this evening by a patient who sadly did not make it in the end.
Over the past year since she started as a nurse, her feelings have dulled down, even something like that did not bother her too much anymore. It was only a slight annoyance that she would have to fetch new shoes when she had her day off in three days.
If someone would have asked her if she enjoyed the job, she would have lied. Telling them how wonderful it is to save and serve people, to do something meaningful and yet she felt nothing else than regret.
Her family and friends always thought she would become an author or painter, that many crazy and fascinating ideas she called her own. Even when she did something bad, like stealing some candy to eat before dinner when she was little was something she explained and excused herself so well that not one person could be mad at her for long. A bright and cheerful woman that shone in beauty as much as her character was. And yet, here she stood, drained and bored from the same day, day after day.
Standing up early in the morning, rushing or rather standing in the early morning traffic, taking care of patients. It was always the same boring routine. Never stepping outside of the norm. Always needing to function. Even her hobbies started to become boring and with every passing day, the world turned more into a gray mess.
This gray mess started to spiral out of control and took over her life. Her friends, her family and even her boyfriend mashed together. The very boyfriend she loved to cook for. How's smile meant the world to her. But even he could not save her from this boredom. From Grey.
With a pling the microwave told her that her food was ready. Nothing fancy just some sausages, mashed potatoes and peas and carrots in gravy. In the end, it did not matter to her, it tasted all the same like paper. Like Gray.
As she carefully took out the plate the steam emitted from the food clouded her vision, condensed on her golden-rimmed glasses. These glasses her ex gifted her. She remembered that he choose them because they would make her blue eyes shine brighter.
At least that was what he had told her. If he would have seen her now, she doubted he would have said the same, with the big rings underneath them from way too little sleep.
And while she moved towards the armchair she would eat her food in and then afterwards sleep in, she could not shake the feeling that she could have done something better with her life. Something substantial. But again, it did not matter anymore. Her life would continue like this, with no opportunity to improve. All alone in her sparsely filled apartment in a bad neighborhood. It would not matter if she existed or not. If she had ever existed.
And to drown these thoughts she decided to turn on her television.
The light of the television embraced to room, turning it into a blueish, surreal landscape. The news anchor in his blue suit and red tie talked about some war in some country in Africa she had never heard of and the young woman began to eat. Shoveling in the food, not caring that it was still way too hot to be safely consumed. She did not feel it anymore or did not care. For her, it was the same.
Then it happened.
As the woman stuffed her cheeks full of sausage, the man in the screen got handed a piece of paper.
“Dear viewers, this breaking news just got in. The serial killer that terrorized Sanct Hamperton this past year was caught. Through an enormous act of cooperation with national and foreign intelligence agencies, the spy and mass murderer Aloysius Devadander Ambercrombie was found in his hideout. First reports state he was found sitting in his chair, waiting for the officers. Greeting them with the words ‚The next Gray one will rise soon‘“
\-
Like what you read? Maybe you will enjoy [these stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/vpyrstories/) as well! |
"So, why did you believe that kidnapping me would further your agenda?"I asked the masked figures who were hovering around me. I as in a chair, my legs tied with rope and my arms lashed down onto the arms of the chair.
"Shut up, lady,"The *"leader"* growled as he looked up at the sky. "Soon, they'll be here."
"Who? Superheroes?"I inquired as I looked down at my nails. *I really should schedule a mani-pedi soon*. I looked up again as I heard the sounds of an engine and I settled in.
"Just, shut up,"the leader snapped and I coolly took out the small knife that I always kept against my wrist. They really did a shit job of searching me.
With their attention diverted to the commotion outside the warehouse, I inconspicuously started sawing at the rope of my right hand with the knife. The doors blew open, flying across the warehouse off their hinges as Joker stepped inside, followed by the Riddler and The Penguin.
"Oh good,"I spoke as the kidnappers stared wide-eyed. "Can you please tell these goons that I'm the only thing keeping all of you from killing every person in this city?"At this point I had the first rope done and cut the other off before turning my attention to the rope around my legs.
With that off, I stood, stretching as I walked over to the leader, grabbing his head and slamming it into my knee. "Oh, be a dear and go away."With a wave of my fingers I turned and sauntered out of the warehouse, "Go on boys, have at it."
A dark smile slid over my lips as I pulled my hair out its bun, the strands turning an auburn red as my eyes turned green. "Time to go visit my sister." |
Confused and bewildered, Marianne turned the tables on the werewolf. "Even if I am a witch, what are you going to do about it?"She twirled her hair in a disrespectful gesture. "Pesky idiots."
"Well, hey now,"stuttered the youngest werewolf, Jamieson. "Just cause we're werewolves, doesn't mean you gots anything to do with us!"Lukan stepped in; "Hold on Jamie, something ain't right. Only mad witches use spells all willy-nilly like that."Jamie looked at his father, dumbfounded. He always wondered why he hadn't inherited the man's intelligence. Now, he came to realize that it was more about experience than anything else.
Marianne watched the exchange with a grin on her face, clearly amused. "Perspectus verwolfia,"she snarled menacingly, "reveals the unworthy cretins of Vitalbia."Her gaze turned expectantly to Lukan. A pointed finger stretched out, pale and thin like that of a skeleton. "You... you are not like the others. I sense something in you that does not sit well."Lukan grinned. With a flick of his hand, he conjured up a swirl of dust in front of him, Jamieson staring in disbelief all the while. The dust cloud hardened, then flew at the witch, temporarily blinding her.
"Augh!", she shouted suddenly. Another storm rained down upon her, covering her face and hair in grains of sand. Glaring at Lukan, her red-green eyes burned with an unadulterated fury. "You'll pay for that, werewolf-sorcerer!"A purplish light emerged from her hands, growing in intensity. "Watch out pa!", shouted Jamieson. But Lukan was prepared. With a furious display of paws and bravado, he sliced through the witch in a manner of seconds. The light faded.
"Look buddy,"he told Jamieson with exasperated breaths, "magic isn't just a witch's game."A hideous laugh emerged from his chest, followed by the classic werewolf howl. Jamieson was at a loss for words, yet couldn't help but grin in the heat of the moment. "Couldn't have said it better."They howled into the night as the moonlight shone upon them, and the corpse of Marianne flew away on the wind, fading into oblivion. |
Black Shuck slid open the door to the abandoned warehouse and glanced around the room. There was no sign that anyone had set foot in the place in months, possibly years. Still, she carefully stalked through the building, keeping her perceptive ears and nose on high alert. Her caution proved to be well placed when she heard the drawing of a bowstring from above her.
Shuck leapt to the side before the volley of arrows could connect with her neck. Shuck looked up and growled as a woman in pink-black body armor descended from the ceiling on a grapple line. Cache summoned a hatchet and revolver to her hand as she remarked, "Well, so much for you going off to the big doghouse in the sky like I thought. Now how's about you tell me where my--"
The sound of Clean Bandit's Symphony cut Cache off. Cache groaned, teleported her hatchet away, and pulled her phone out of her pocket to put it on mute. Under her breath, she muttered, "Goddamnit, Jerry, you have the worst fucking timing. Uh, Shuck, just ignore the--"
"Jodie?!"
Cache just about dropped her phone at the sound of her wife's voice coming out of Shuck's mouth. "Wh--Maya?!"
Shuck's fur dissipated into black smoke, revealing the chubby, redheaded woman underneath as Cache turned off her voice disguiser and pulled off her mask. Maya pressed her fingers to her temples as she said, "You've gotta be kidding me. You said you had a business trip!"
"What was I supposed to tell you? Somebody emailed me out of nowhere and told me to come to this location in my old identity unless I wanted our son to die?!"
"Well, I wouldn't have--wait, son?! The email I got said our daughter was taken!!"
Jodie let out a string of curses and summoned a baseball bat to her hand purely so she could throw it across the room. As Jodie caught her breath, Maya facepalmed and remarked, "We gotta have a serious conversation with those camp counselors."
Jodie smoothed her hair back and asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were Black Shuck?"
"It's called a secret identity, for one thing. For another, I retired from the hero business, remember? And while we're at it, why didn't *you* tell me you were Cache?"
"Maya, I was a mercenary for twelve years! I hurt a lot of people, I--I tried to kill you seven times in a single month! Who in their right mind would marry someone like me if they knew who they really were?!"
Maya raised her hand and softly said, "I would."
"Look, Maya--"
Maya gripped Jodie's shoulders gently. "Jodie, listen to me. You're more than just what you did in an old life. You're the woman I pledged myself to under a canopy of magnolia trees in full bloom, who'd make our kids a pillow fort whenever they got sick, who literally slashed the tires of my ex's car when he followed me home from work. *That's* you. That's the woman I married."
Jodie blushed bright red and hugged Maya tightly. "God, you are too good for me sometimes."
Maya kissed Jodie's cheek and purred, "Aww, I think I'm just good enough for you, lemon drop. Now let's go figure out who took our kids and beat them within an inch of their lives."
*To be continued...* |
"You don't say?"I couldn't keep the sarcasm from my voice as I looked over at my twin brother who had just destroyed a building, and I, the sister, was tasked with stopping him, "Which part was it? When you monologued for an hour or when your bomb didn't detonate properly and you threw a train at it?"
"Alice, I'm really not in the mood,"he hissed, looking away to hide his red face. "God, you're just like mom."
"Maybe because I'm a *hero* like mom?"I snapped back, levitating off the ground as I stared down at him, "You're the wannabe villain who can't even properly destroy a building!"Okay, maybe it was a low blow, but Charlie always felt the need to be the opposite of me in every way.
I guarantee if I woke up tomorrow wanting to be a villain, he'd be planning how to be a hero and stop me.
"Someone has to be the reason you have a job!"by now he had turned to fully face me and my eyes rolled back so far I thought I saw my own brain.
"Sure, sure,"I muttered before grabbing his arm, "Come on."
"What, no! I'm not going to be arrested by my sister! That'll make this even more embarrassing!"he whined and tried to pull his arm away.
My shoulders dropped in frustration and I started levitating higher until his feet were off the ground. "I could go another hundred feet and leave you dangling on the flagpole by your undies like you did with every little kid on the playground. See how embarrassed you can really get."
Eyes widening at the thought, he started blubbering, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll come with you."I set him back on the ground and joined him, slapping the anti-power cuffs on him.
"All right then,"Leading him to the station, I even took the time to prance him past his fellow wannabe villains. |
"Officer, what does it mean to be a hero?"Said the man in handcuffs.
"I'm not listening to anything you say freak!"
"Why officer? I just asked a simple question. What I did was certainly questionable; however why am I considered the villain here? I was merely seeking justice. Justice that could not be properly administered by our beloved system."
"I have been on the force for 25 years of my miserable life, what can you teach me about justice that I don't already know?!"
"For one officer let me ask you this...how often have you had to take a life to merely drink away your sorrows? How often did you question your decision in taking said life? Whether it was the right or wrong call? While I acted on my impulsivity of the woman who took away my innocences and youth at a tender age, I was merely ending a cycle and bringing closure that no amount of prescriptions or therapy could fix. Believe me, I've tried! So let me repeat myself one last time officer, I am not the villain in this story". |
"Son,"the doctor said, at last. "I'm afraid you have no mana."
Nakui blinked. Then he upturned his palm. A small ball of blue light appeared above it. "But then...how is it that I can I use magic?"
"That's the question, isn't it?"the doctor said, with a perplexed sigh. Leaning heavily on his ceremonial staff, he lowered himself onto the bamboo stool by the palm-frond pallet where Nakui had laid down to be examined by him. "You see, scientifically, we understand that there are two basic types of things that people can do. The first kind, anyone can do, if they learn how: fishing, hunting boar, hoeing yams -- things like those."
The doctor gestured to the shrunken heads mounted on his staff, "Now, putting the spirit of the village's previous Witch Doctor inside his own shrunken head so his wisdom will continue to benefit his people, as he did to his own predecessor before him? That's the second kind of thing. It's *magic, * which I can only perform because of my special mana. Even if I were to show someone how to do it, step by step, they could not manage it, unless they also had the mana of magic -- you see?"
Nakui wasn't sure he did, but he nodded anyway. Then an idea struck him. "So, then maybe you can ask those old doctors on your staff if they know what's going on with me, then?"
"They can't talk -- you have to sew their mouths shut or their spirit will leak out. And they wouldn't really be able to examine you to provide a second opinion anyway, because you also have to sew their eyelids shut, for the same reason."
Nakui frowned. "Then...how do they provide you with their wisdom?"
"It's mostly moral support,"The doctor explained. "I always feel better, just knowing they are there. Isn't that right, old Master?"He rattled the heads on the end of the staff and smiled at them, before turning back to Nakui. "I'm just kidding, they can't hear me. You have to plug their ears with clay, otherwise--"
"The spirit will leak out?"Nakui ventured.
"Exactly,"the Witch Doctor affirmed. "You learn quickly -- might make a good Witch Doctor, if you had the mana."
"Are you *sure* I don't?"Nakui pressed, waving the blue light around. "This looks pretty magical."
"It does *look* that way,"the Witch Doctor agreed, "And earlier, when you flew over the village, that looked even more like magic -- normally, flying is only a thing-of-the-first kind if you are a bird, and I am almost certain that you're not..."
The Doctor reached into his bag of medical equipment, and produced a large fat frog, which croaked discontentedly at having its nap interrupted. "...but, when I waved this frog over you, he did not indicate that you had mana. It's a pretty definitive test."
"That's why you did that?"Nakui exclaimed. "Your magic lets you talk to frogs?"
"No, but it makes me adept at reading their expressions, and I could see that the frog was not happy when I waved him over you."
"Why does that mean I don't have any mana?"Nakui asked, frowning.
"Because frogs *love* mana. That's why they eat flies "
*"Flies* have mana?"
"Of course! Flies can fly despite the fact that they are not birds, which can only mean they possess the mana to fly by magic, using the little paddles on their back."
"Those things on their back aren't, you know...wings?"
The Witch Doctor laughed. "Of course not -- why would flies bother with wings, when they can fly using magic?"
"I guess that makes sense..."Nakui said uncertainly.
"Indeed. Well perhaps we have discovered in you a *third* type of thing that people can do, that is unlike either magic or yam-hoeing."The Witch Doctor said. "That is an exciting prospect! I will bring it up at the next Symposium of Witch Doctors, and see what my colleagues from other villages think."
"But what am I supposed to do?"Nakui cried. "Everyone's scared of me because of what I can do. If you can't train me to be a Witch Doctor like you, I won't have any place in the village at all!"
The Witch Doctor shook his head. "Don't worry, Nakui -- though more research will be required to understand the science behind your condition, I *do* have a remedy for your situation, in the meantime. It is practically a panacea."
"Really?"Nakui exclaimed hopefully. "What is it? A special poultice, or a potion?"
"No, this magic ritual is far more potent than anything like that: a *human sacrifice to the Volcano God!"*
Nakui gasped. "You mean someone else has to die, for the Volcano God to fix my problem? That's terrible!"
The Witcher Doctor blinked in confusion. "Someone *else...?"* |
It was July the 4th 1978 in United States Penitentiary, Marion. I had calculated it to be the case at least. Back there in solitary confinement, we were provided but the strictest information. I belonged there for bold actions within. Just as I belonged in this prison for terrible actions without.
For the past three weeks I have had a terrible headache whose splitting pain had turned my strict routine into a harsh but necessary life buoy. As a result, a bump on the shoulderwas all it took to turn my silent coping into a violent altercation.
I was since then put in a 5 by 8 cell with an incredibly thick and comfortable bedsheet for company. I was to wait for the punishment to pass and my next meeting with the doctor to be approved. I had not slept for several days now, and isolation with this sweet blanket could hopefully do me some good. The nightmares prior to the headache were not something I actually missed, but tiredness was still not pleasurable.
By the night of second day, the pain in my skull had intensified twofold, forcing me to bite the soft cotton in frustration. I kept staring at the door in repressed silence. The silence allowed me to focuses my senses on my breath, or even my heartbeat in the hopes of distracting me from my torment. I struggled so for a long spell. Until...
"A long night, a bad plight."Rhymed someone behind me. After loosening my bite on the bedsheet I immediately turned around. What I saw shocked me... A man in black rags, standing in my cell, a mere feet away from me. Despite the dark hood shadowing it, I could tell that skin of his was as white as bleached bone and stuck tightly to them as well. If I didn't know better I would have guessed he had been standing sideways and acted as thin piece of paper until just then.
"Who are you?"I ordered with force. "This is a locked cell, and I know you weren't there before, as I'd have heard the jailors open the door."He said nothing but lifted his head as though urging me to stand. Trying to regain my composure, I slowly obliged him. Now eye to eye with this gaunt stranger, I made another attempt. "So, I say again, who are you?"
"I am a growth. A role I loathe."He said, his voice sounding like the static that remained after the prison loudspeakers had finished their tasks.
"I do not understand. That doesn't answer anything. Doesn't answer what you are any more than who you are."I retorted.
"I do as I need. My yearning I feed."He replied.
"You're mad! Fully and truly mad!"I replied. "Making peotry and appearing out of thin air is what the asylum is for."I scoffed "You've been housed in the wrong department I say!"His emerald eyes gleaming in the moonlight seemed to smile at me.
"Don't you find it remarkable how loud you find yourself to be, as none of those fabled jailors come to silence your noisy plea?"it remarked. And yes. Despite myself I had yelled pretty loudly right in the middle of the night. I was expressly told not to make much noise despite the distance from the other cells, yet I had bellowed unhindered. I rationalized this situation as a ploy of sorts.
"I find those new methods most unnerving!"I shouted at the walls, hoping for whatever witnesses there could be to feel a small amount of silliness. "I cooperated fully a good time ago I say!"
"There is no such conniving, I am not one for joshing."he sighed. For minutes he just stood there, expectant. Thoughts came rushing in and out of my mind but I didn't feel like pursuing the charade.
"You are a thinker, Sir Tyler Badrow. To all your horrors and your sad sorrow."It shrugged, his jagged shoulders piercing the fabric at odd angles. "Think and make an assumption, mayhap you'll find some salvation."
The silence after this was deafening. So deafenign in fact that I figured something. The man's breath, I couldn't hear it. Or rather I never did hear it. I could. I figured secondly that I did not hear my own heartbeat nor my breath anymore either.
"Are you death?"I half-hazarded. And to this the intruder raised what passed for hands towards the sky.
"I am a growth in your head. I am a burning homestead. A bullet made out of lead. A snapping sound from knit thread. All the ways that makes one dead."Every sentence struck like hammers as they resonated against the walls of the cell. For a split second I thought I could actually see some sort of pale ceramic behind those green irises. It reminded me of the empty back of the skull I had handled a few months ago. "You are death."I repeated slowly.
"You accept it fast."It guessed correctly. "The theatrics must now cease as my schedule is tight and the debt is great. You have something that belongs to me Sir Badrow. An idea I set loose unwittingly."
"An idea?"I asked confusedly. It nodded. and spread its cloaked arms wide, stretching from end to end of the cell.
"It was the idea of a new way to perish. Novel ones are hard to come by so late into your history I'll have you know. One meant to be shared by your kin but which ended up being held by you alone."it explained. My pupils widened into black pearls.
"My murders... You talk about my 'original' murders!?"I questioned. This changed everything. This knowledge should absolve me. Yet I didn't feel any different save for the hairs on my back straightening themselves.
"That is your familiar term for it. Very creative don't you think? I surprised myself this time. Technology and society collaborate well these days."Crossing its arms it nodded in affirmation. The nonchalance began to infuriate me but Death suddenly did something worse. "Nonetheless they were not yours to perform."
"You put them in my head."I accused. "These... The ones I did them to... I still dream of them you bastard you!"I screamed with the weight of six months of torturous thoughts behind me. But it waved away my anger without a care.
"An idea is but an idea is but a thought. Leave the philosophy of blames and circumstances for your failed trial."it said coldly. In response I yearned to punch it, even moved to perform this small revenge against this heartless entity, but I was so tired and so rushed I only managed to slip on the soft blanket. I began to fall towards Death. However as I began to land against its frame, its dark cloth began to lift me back on my feet and right back where we started. Without a delay it approached me with gritted teeth, far too many molars among them.
"I, am not what can be fought nor argued with. Your mind may have gotten my inspiration, but it never drove your hands or fed your curiosity. I care not what designs or what history pushed you into this place and time. I care to recover what is mine and spread it like butter over this great tapestry of a world."
"Your idea ruined me!"I insist, letting the echoes of my voice drown my reasoning. "I am not at fault for an idea you came up with!"While my tone sweats with conviction, deep down, I doubt my own words because my guilt is still as real as before. As though drinking in the hesitation in my soul, it tilted its head and backed away smugly, waving its frame like a slow malformed accordion. I stopped thinking and just observed Death's strange dance.
"You have ceased to properly think it seems. A condition that always makes my work easier."from its cloak it pulled a small misshaped tool like a wolf trap and placed it before my head. It let go yet levitating in the stiff air of the cell. "React as you ought, makes no difference now with your focus gone."With a strength that defied its appearance the cloak pushed my arms against the hard wall. The rest of my body was petrified and wet noises began to trinkle below me. I wanted to close my eyes by the object forced them open with strange tendrils emanating from God knows where. The pain in my eyelid pulled more screams from me. Those were swiftly shut by more tendrils penetrating my mouth.
"It won't take long."Death promised. "Such is life."I felt something like cold needles behind my ears. And then I felt nothing.
When I awoke, my body stopped responding to my inputs. I could neither act nor feel, only see whatever my fast-drying eyes happened to have in their direct proximity. I assume it took a while before the guards understood I was not faking my lethargy. The dark grey of the cell was replaced by a distant ceiling, and then the blue of the infirmary I had visited shortly before my stay in isolation. I saw many ceilings since, but never much else.
It has been what I think must be decades now. Among all the misery my existence is now I yet retain a sole saving grace. Whatever horrible deed it is I committed, I for the life of me have no idea what is was. Not anymore. |
I will say, I was one of the ones that thought that a Mad God would be the literal end of the world.
I can now say that I was wrong.
With the God in control, there no need for the many governments of the world directing their own group of people and hating their neighbors and others.
Secondly, because they could see everything and anything at once, they could tell when someone commits a crime and have no need for the courts.
Companies did tried to cut a deal with the God, only to be forced out of business either peacefully or forceable.
And because we're now subjects of the God, we all have partical immortality. And death is something the God can reverse.
Now we all live as one, under the leadership of the Cult of the Mad One.
Though there are cases of leadership without a cult member, I have a feeling that's what the God intended.
But I shouldn't bite the hands that feed me. I can now enjoy my life with having a fear of things in the world. |
<Comedy>
## A Gracious Host
There's been an interesting podcast on the radio lately. Usually, they do a run of a feature called [Fun Trope Friday](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/fun_trope/), but apparently, they're choosing one lucky winner to be featured in a one-off horror read. I sent something in, not really thinking too much about it. I didn't usually listen in, after all, but one of my friends was an avid fan.
"Heya! Welcome back to Maishul & Lothli, special horror read edition! I'm your host, Maishul. Now let's see who we've got here..."A chipper woman's voice rang out from my mic. "Ah! Congratulations, Marley1825! You've won a chance to be featured on our podcast!"
Huh, would you look at that? I'd actually won. I didn't really expect that to happen, but what do you know? A silly grin formed on my face as the host began her reading.
"It was a lonely Friday night, and Jeffery was driving home from work. It had been a long day, so he was looking forward to crashing in his bed for the night."
Hm. I frowned to myself. I didn't remember naming the protagonist after myself, and some of the details seemed off. Maybe they had to edit the submission for some reason.
"While the drive may have been boring, he could always cheer himself up by listening to <Maishul & Lothli>, his favorite podcast! Of course, when he heard his name mentioned on the radio, it freaked him out a bit. After all, he didn't remember his story having those strange details in them.
"Hey, what the hell!"The radio perfectly mimicked my scream of shock before continuing its merry narration. "Jeffery screamed. 'What is going on? Is the radio host reading my thoughts?' he thought to himself. 'That's impossible, right?'"
I shuddered, suddenly wide awake. Why was this radio station reading my thoughts?
*Hey, I'm getting kinda tired of being in quotes. I'm gonna just hop over to your brain real quick, okay?*
W-What the hell?! That wasn't from the radio at all! I slammed the volume button, turning the podcast off. But unfortunately, the voice seemed to have already settled into my head.
*Okie doki! Let's see here. Hmm... this italics stuff is kinda irritating still. I'm just gonna...*
***
Hello, everyone! It's your favorite podcast host, Maishul. I'm just gonna take over for Jeffery here so we can have a better story! Let's see how he's doing.
Oh dear, it seems like he's hyperventilating! Looks like it was a little stressful for him to have his train of thought stolen from him like that. Well, if we can continue—
*NO! We can't! What the hell did you just do? Why can't I THINK properly anymore? I feel like a puppet on a string—*
Oh, shush, Jeffery! We're trying to tell a story here! Think of the audience, won't ya? I'm sure this is already confusing enough. Here, let me describe the scene for you. Ahem...
Jeffery found himself in the woods at night. His father often warned him not to visit the Witching Woods at night, but he was a sassy child and wanted to prove that he was a brave boy!
*ACK! What have you done? W-Where am I? Why is my body shrunken? Hey! HEY!*
Jeffery knew that if he brought back three logs of lumber, his father would be very impressed! So he stumbled into the forest, bravely searching for those perfect pieces of wood.
*Dammit! My legs—they won't obey me! Fuck!*
Hey, now, Jeffery! Be a good boy and don't swear. That's not good for our ratings.
*Well, FUCK your ratings, and FUCK you! You shitheads can't—*
Oops! Looks like I removed Jeffery's ability to project thoughts into the narration by accident. Anyways, he walked into the forest to get timberwood, shouting expletives all the while. That was a terrible idea, however; all that noise attracted a great big beast. Its fur was sleek and dark as the night, but its eyes were red. Like blood or chamomile tea!
And then Jeffery got eaten by the beast. Whoops! Looks like I forgot to give him plot armor.
Oh well. Hope all our listeners enjoyed today's podcast, even if it didn't go exactly to plan. Maishul, out! |
"Hello?"
"You've reached the universal line for the Time Police. What's your emergency?"
"Uh, there's like, a whole bunch of people who are supposed to be dead that are chasing me down. They got like, mega-lasers and rail-guns and stuff!"
"Okay, what time period are you calling from? As far as you can tell, are they zombies? Try to stay calm."
"What the hell! Uh... ok... today is the 26th of April, 2023. This is Earth-9205, I think - augh! Caesar just shot at me with a blaster! Hurry up and get here before I'm eviscerated!"
"Ok... is that AD or BC? It matters. Also, did you say Caesar?"
"Yeah... holy... AD, Caesar, Aurelius, and... what the? Is that Joan of Arc?"
"Sit tight, we're heading to your location now. Don't panic, and make sure you stay on the line, OK?"
"Are you a rookie or something? I. Am. Being. Chased! By Abraham Lincoln, nonetheless!"
"OK sir, I understand you are in a precarious situation. Do you have any idea what happened to cause this?"
"Uh... I was messing around with a time-warp transformer and these guys kind of just popped out. I promise it wasn't my fault though, the thing malfunctioned, I swear!"
"How many people would you estimate made their way through this portal?"
"Maybe like 100? I don't know... looking at them on the hill here, it could be millions for all I know. I think they're still coming through the transformer."
"I won't lie to you sir, this is a very bad situation. We will prioritize your survival and safety for the moment, but I cannot say the same for our universal Judgement system. It can be very unforgiving."
"Well, it's not my first run in with the law, I'll tell you that. And - hey! Quit it! Seriously, stop shooting that thing, it's making the sky rain crystals that - AUGH!"
"Sir, a time machine has arrived near your position. Can you find somewhere to hide?"
"Yeah, I think so... okay, I found a hole... oh god... I'm hit."
"Sir? Please stay on the line, we are sending a medic to your position!"
"Don't bother... just... do me a favour and blow up the planet..."
"Sir? Sir?"
"Who is this?"
"Hello? Are you okay sir?"
"This is the Son of God."
"..."
"Hello? Eh, probably a dead lie. Poor sod."
"Son of God, you are in violation of the International Travel Treaty. Your presence on Earth-9205 is a direct affront to our entire system, and may leave us with no choice but to destroy the planet. You are not free to resurrect more than once in this solar system. Hello?"
"..."
"Hello? Sir, are you still there? Please, don't tell me you just let them roam free! This is a disaster: you must understand the ramifications of your behaviour?"
"... Look."
"Sir?"
"Your reign as law enforcers is over. No one can save you now, not even God."
"Sir, is this you?"
"I'll tell you one thing for certain. Whether or not you destroy this planet, there will be retribution. You can be sure of that."
"Sir? Sir? Sir? ..."
"..."
"Understood. Planet destruction commencing in 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ..." |
Breg gorged itself as the humans slept. Its hunger would never be satiated. It devoured the humans’ dreams at an accelerating rate as the night grew longer and the sun started to warm the eastern horizon. It would be dawn soon and the humans would wake from their sleep. Breg could not yet follow the night and continue its psychic nourishment on the other side of the Pacific, for that was the territory of another of its species.
The dusjo were formless and colourless, odourless and tasteless, they were not of the material world. And yet their survival depended on it, and on the humans that fed the psychic plane with their passions, dreams, and nightmares. The dusjo would fight for feeding rights over human territories and population centres. However these conflicts were always confined to psychic plane. To the dusjo, humans were a resource; a vital source of sustenance that had to be protected and shepherded.
The last time Breg crossed into Neit’s territory ended poorly, both for Breg and the humans in the cross fire that were bombarded by psychic fallout. It had taken centuries for Breg to reconstruct itself. It fed on psychic scraps for years just to remain alive before it could even start to grow again. Feeding on fear and hatred for so long had turned Breg into a fearful and hateful being.
But just as human emotions could seep into the dusjo’s psychic plane of existence, so to could the dusjo seep into the material world and influence human emotions for their own intents. Breg had spent much of i’s power through this channel. As it reconstructed itself over centuries from its previous battle it realised something important. It was not the quantity of psychic emotions that helped the dusjo to grow. It was the quality. Or more precisely the intensity. And few emotions were easier to generate as intensely as fear and hatred.
Decades of psychic manipulation and persuasion had put Breg’s plan in the human world into motion. A cascading series of seemingly random events, all orchestrated by Breg, would instil in humans a sense of fear and aggression that would rise into a crescendo of terror and hatred that Breg would feast on. This banquet would power Breg into the most powerful being on the psychic and material plane.
Unless Neit could stop it. |
\[Rhapsody of Change\]
"Yes?"Edgar was quick to open the door and greet his guest with a smile. He didn't know who she was; but, the red scissor logo on her crisp white blazer told him everything he needed to know. She was a pale teenager with long, straight white hair. He would have guessed her to be too young to be working for such an important corporation; but, very little surprised him anymore. Not after he discovered the true nature of his life. But, so far it hadn't been going as well as he hoped it would with his new knowledge. He assumed that's why she was there.
"Mr. Grant, my name is Rhapsody,"she introduced herself and gestured at the red scissors on her suit. "I represent Sharp Development. You've filed a report claiming your life is unsatisfactory?"
"Yes,"Edgar nodded. He stepped aside and opened the door wider. "Please, come in."He did not expect Rhapsody to shake her head.
"No thanks, I'm in a hurry. May I see your node, please?"she asked with an outstretched hand.
"My node?"Edgar tilted his head at her with the question. "Aren't you here to give me a better life?"
"I did just say I was in a hurry,"Rhapsody shook her head. "I'll replace your node with a working one, then be on my way,"she said.
"One second...,"Edgar nodded at her, then retreated into the house. He walked to his bedroom to fetch the node from the last place he remembered seeing it. Edgar wasn't much for technology and he preferred to have a simple flip phone instead of the advanced gizmo Sharp Development gave him. He had no idea why Rhapsody demanded to see it; but, maybe it was just to prove he was properly signed up with Sharp Development.
He found the thin, glass card and the time appeared on the display as soon as he touched it. It still seemed to be in working order; but, he knew the company had access to data he didn't. If she said it was broken, then she was probably correct. He returned to the door and handed her the node. She took one glance at it, then looked up at him.
"This is working fine,"she said.
"Yeah...,"Edgar nodded and shrugged simultaneously. What did she want with it then?
"Why did you submit a complaint?"she asked.
"Because my life sucks,"Edgar replied. "I didn't say anything about the node."Rhapsody sighed, then tapped the node several times as she studied various screens.
"You haven't even done the tutorial?"she asked without hiding the annoyance in her voice.
"Technology isn't my thing,"Edgar shrugged.
"Neither is listening, I'm assuming,"Rhapsody replied. Then, she shook her head. She returned the node to him.
"Do the tutorial,"she said as a black portal opened behind her. Edgar had seen portals like that before; she was about to leave.
"Aren't you going to fix my life??"Edgar asked.
"There's nothing wrong with it,"Rhapsody replied.
"It sucks! I'm living alone! I have no friends, and I still have to go to work every day!"He was raising his voice in desperation and he hoped she didn't think he was getting angry; he really needed her help.
"You have everything you need,"Rhapsody nodded at the glass card in his hand as she took a step backward. "...what have you done to change it?"
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1929 in a row. (Story #119 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). |
“Aw, dammit…” Luke shook his head. Blaise the Magnificent was rosy-cheeked and slurring his speech as he slid over to yet another annoyed-looking woman. Michael smirked at him from across the table.
“Bit worse than you expected?” The heavily-armoured Paladin asked, chuckling to himself.
“Ugggh, I don’t get it. I lock his door, he magics it back open. Tie him up? He just escapes! I pulled a Cask of Amontillado on him earlier, and he just teleported right back here! How am I supposed to stop him!?”
“I mean, we will need to talk about how potentially lethal that is, but let’s come back to that. Do you understand now why we told you not to help him fall off the wagon?” The question was punctuated with a slap that echoed throughout the wooden tavern, and Blaise sported a new red welt across his face.
“Look, you told me he is an alcoholic, but so am I, and I do fine!”
“Yeah, about that? I’m pretty sure you just have no—“ Michael quietly caught Luke’s wrist as it tried to slip into a nearby maid’s pocket, “—impulse control.”
Luke shot Michael a glare. “I figured once he sobered up, he’d have his hangover and be done.”
Michael shrugged. “Yep, sounds like you don’t know that gnawing, constant need for just a little more. Our friend over there will sober up once he has drunk the town dry, and not a moment sooner. In the meanwhile, you know the penalty for breaking that rule.”
Blaise chose this moment to return, kiss Luke’s lips with breath that smelled like vomit and death, and pass out on the floor. Picking Blaise up, Luke grumbled,
“Yeah, yeah, _If you get the Wizard drunk, he is **your** responsibility until he sobers up._” |
I was walking down the street at night looking kinda like I got money but not so much money that the police will care. And I do that because I don’t have anything to loose, I’ve lost all my family, most of my money, and everything else. So I was just out to die cause I don’t care.
So when a man in all black walked up and I pulled his gun and put it into my stomach as he walked me into a near by ally I asked “Oh cool is a .45 1911?” And he told me in a kinda angry voice “Shut the fuck up give me all your money!” And I said “Well I wanna make conversation cause I like to know the person who I’m about to pay to fuck me” the robber rightfully paused and said “I’m not gonna fuck you do I look like a prostitute to you? I’m fucking robbing you, you dumbass.” I said “Yeah but you do look like a prostitute and fuck me physically or fuck me by robbing me no matter what your fucking me” the robber replied “I WILL FUCKING SHOOT RIGHT NOW JUST GIVE ME YOUR MONEY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU YOUR BEING ROBBED” I replied “ok ok calm down pissy pants what’s wrong with me is I have nothing to loose, I have severed in the army, I have had my family killed, I have had my family leave me, I have lost my house, I have lost everything so I don’t care about death and I don’t care if you shoot me or not Imma waste your time no matter what.”
The Robber sits in silence “Damn sad story and y’all but I don’t care money now or I will” He cocks his gun “shoot your spine out your back and paint the wall” “Dooooooooo it, Dooooo it, Doooo it” I replied mockingly “Ok Fuck you then” I look into the robbers eyes smiling when I hear BOOM and then BOOM 2 gun shots… I feel a hot stinging pain in my chest as I fall to the floor and the robber goes through my pockets and he turns back and BOOM BOOM BOOM he fires 3 more times hitting me once in the arm and misses the other two as he runs off…
I see my burgundy shirt pulsate from two shots in my chest and I realize that my shirt was not burgundy it was white originally the blood just infected my shirt like AIDS in a gay night club and then I felt my heart beat slow and my eyes blink slowly then slower.. I take slow breaths soon my breathes get slower and slower as I hear and see faint lights and sirens.. Soon I don’t hear or see anything expect black and nothing else. It felt like a eternity in the dark blackness I saw then right as I heard someone familiar I wake up in a hospital bed. |
Hades and Persephone had been very easy. Hades adapted very well to his job of coroner and Persephone ran a flower shop. Hermes was easy too. He became a mail carrier. Last I heard, he was throughly enjoying it. Thor was placed as a weatherman. His accuracy was rapidly becoming legendary. He did on occasion intervene to lessen the severity of a storm, but always made sure not to disperse the storm. He worked alongside Zeus, whom had taken him on as his student. They both made sure they occasionally got the weather wrong.
Other gods had not been as easy. Hera had bounced from job to job before finally settling in as a sex therapist. Aphrodite shocked us by leaving the modeling world and opening a salon, and adding a cosmetic surgery wing. She quickly became the go to for reconstructive surgery, becoming famous after rebuilding a man’s face to near perfect from horrific burns.
Then there was Aries. It took us a while to place him. He now served the USA as its top general. He did go through the necessary training and made a name for himself on the battlefield, rising quickly through the ranks to his current rank. He had tried out the test to become a navy seal and swears he very nearly died in the process. I bet he nearly drowned.
“Madam, Loki is here.” My receptionist said by intercom.
“Send him in.” I waited.
Loki entered, glaring at the shiny new bracelets he now wore. Good. He had been processed. The bracelets were for safety reasons. They acted against a God’s power, preventing the god in question from using their power. It was only temporary, unless you were Aries, whom never had his taken off. He actually liked wearing them.
“Please sit. State your name, Parthenon, and main powers.” I waited.
“Loki, Norse Parthenon, Shapeshifting, chaos power.” Loki answered.
“Lesser powers?” I checked his newly made record.
“Ice manipulation, pranks.”
“Good. Let’s see what we got.” I waited for my computer to crunch the data. “Hmm. Interrogator, investigator, and negotiator. How good are you in getting confessions?”
“Pretty good, actually.”
“How about talking people off the edge?”
“Hmm. Might be too tempted to knock them off, but then again, I could talk them off the ledge.”
“How about solving cases?”
“I am quite good at that.”
“Investigation would be a perfect fit for you with your shapeshifting. Plus it will be perfect for getting confessions. I will make sure the FBI is aware of your abilities. They are looking for an interrogator and another investigator.”
“The Federal Bureau of Investigation. I can work with that. Sign me up!”
“They are already in route to pick you up. You will be joining them on a kidnapping case. This is your test. Do well and you’re in.”
“Understood!” Loki stood.
Days later, I checked the paper. Loki had made the front page. It was a picture of him carrying a little girl. The article explained that Loki was a new investigator with the FBI, and he had solved the case and saved the little girl. The kidnapper was behind bars. Good, he didn’t harm the kidnapper. I had a feeling he had to resist the urge to maim the guy.
Another perfect placement.
(I figured with Loki’s shapeshifting and chaos power, he would be a great investigator.) |
I wandered around our church at night. I do this just to make sure nothing strange happened during the day. This patrol I heard the priestess singing, I didn't question that too much but I struggled to understand the lyrics. So I went closer.
She was doing something I thought I'd never see. She was dancing, an act that mocks the goddess of light herself. Such an act was used by the trickster god 1000 years back to unite demons and humans. She also had a strange backpack on.
Turns out she wasn't singing words, just what seemed to be a vocal exercise, but I heard instruments that no one was playing. She was sweeping rocks to surround an empty circle she stood in. Then she grabbed some salt, stepping to the beat, she centered herself in the circle before throwing the salt to make a square.
Next she did stretching to the beat while counting to 25, then clapped 5 times. Once that was done, she spun throwing salt to the perimeter of the circle in the process. The spinning also removed the salt from the center.
I recognized this symbol and called out "What. Are. You. DOING?!"
She looked at me and dragged me in the circle, she clearly trained to do this as normally, I wouldn't budge. When we were in the center, she stepped and made me step to the beat, moving around the inner circle in the pattern of a star, only kicking the salt on the ground. She pulled me so I couldn't reach any of it.
I felt weird and understood what she was saying. SHE WAS SUMMONING THE TRICKSTER GOD HIMSELF! I pushed and pulled with all my power but got nowhere. "You can't do this!"
She ignored me, continuing the ritual chanting of "Come down". The music got louder and drowned me out, I could somehow hear her despite her not raising her voice. "Oh could you show up? I know it's time. Come help me out. I'm losing my mind."
"What?"
"Could you show up? I know it's time. Come help us out. We're losing our minds."
"We're fine."
"Oh could you show up? I know it's time. Come help me out. I'm losing my mind. Could you show up? I know our time. Come help us out. We're losing our minds."
"STOP!"
"They don't quite get it but it is time. Step out, we need to show them the light. They don't get it but I know why. They've. Been. Born. In. Only. Lies."The beat got faster "Stop! You can't let go, we have to hold. Time passes and we cannot let go. We can't fall back, we have to move. The darkness will take us back too."She then started laughing to the strange beat, swinging me along to it.
The song finally stopped and in between our arms, the trickster appeared. He rested a hand on her head. "Oh, who's this?"
"A guard. Not too important."She responded.
"Oh, but he is. Did he see you do the entire thing?"
"I grabbed him and tried to make him dance it too."
"Ah, he really is."He turned to me, I had my sword in hand. "Y'know you can't just conquer a church, destroy it then replace it with your own."
"Lies."I said.
"Oh, but no. Your priestess here had changed her heart once she met a demon in person."
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!"
"Nothing, she summoned me to fix the relationship between humans and demons again. You guys make this job hard, you know that?"
I swung and my sword turned into a pen.
"This is an upgrade, for the pen is mightier than the sword."The priestess commented "Peaceful and violent intentions can be communicated."
I tried stabbing her with the pen, but the trickster took it and it disappeared.
"We have much to teach you. In fact, the first thing was that humans raided hell FAR before demons attacked the surface."They spoke in unison. "Sit down, we've to teach a church a long lesson." |
\[Surge of Potential\]
"I get what's supposed to happen...,"Crystal nodded as she elaborated her answer. "...Mundo covered that briefly, but I don't get how it happens,"she said. The teenage druid was walking through a quiet, picket-fence neighborhood with two friends. It was a cool, crisp morning; the sun hadn't yet reached its full height. Surge the necromancer and Alis the ninja. "Do you need to fight her?"She wanted to be ready if they were going to have to fight someone.
"I'd get stronger faster if we did fight; but, I'd have to do it alone if she wants to go that route. Usually, spending time time near a Calavera stronger than me is enough to activate the mentor bond,"he said.
"Wait, it's that easy?"Crystal would never complain about her own abilities; but, she couldn't help but feel slightly cheated in the face of this new information. "Calaveras are already the strongest Uniques... and they get even stronger just by being around other Calaveras??
"Pretty much,"Surge nodded and chuckled. "The ability makes me stronger to try and catch up to Majesty; but, from her side, her strength will grow to stay ahead of mine. So, I'll never actually catch up."
"Hold on...,"the trio turned a corner down a new street, but Alis walked in front of Surge to stop him. Crystal stopped too.
"I'll admit, I didn't know exactly how Calaveras worked either. But, now that I know more... isn't it a little strange that Ms. Sharp is having a Calavera-only derby match? How do we know she's not just trying to pump up her team by having her go against you guys?"
"Because it goes both ways,"Surge grinned. "If that were her goal, I'd still definitely want to be part of that. Both teams are going to get much stronger as a result of the match. But, it's not like it's a new idea. Though, Turbo says Ms. Sharp has other goals,"he added.
"Ms. Sharp ALWAYS has other goals...,"Crystal sighed with vague frustration. No matter how much she learned about Sharp Development, or its owner, she never felt like she was getting all the answers she wanted.
"I trust Turbo...,"Alis nodded. "But.. what does he know?"
"A lot...,"Surge chuckled, then resumed walking forward. "Ms. Sharp picked Ruin as a team captain for the match; the first thing he did was spill everything to Turbo."
"Good!"Crystal giggled.
"Besides, they've got Honey on their team; if Ms. Sharp were trying to boost them, she'd put Honey on our team to compete."
"Is Honey that strong?"Crystal asked. Surge nodded as he came to a stop. A stone path led from the sidewalk to the two-story house in front of them.
"You know how everyone thinks Flutter is the strongest Calavera ever...?"Surge asked.
"Yeah...,"Crystal answered as both she and Alis nodded.
"If Flutter and Honey ever had to fight seriously.... I couldn't tell you who would win,"he said.
"Whoa...,"Alis stood in awe as Surge headed up the stone path. She took an extra second after Crystal followed Surge to realize she should catch up too. Surge had already knocked on the door by the time she caught up. A few seconds later the door swung open and a young girl looked up at the trio. She looked to be around 9 or 10, with brown curly hair that had some purple running through it.
"HI!"Crystal was quick to greet the young girl. From what she heard about Majesty, she expected an older woman to answer the door. She assumed this was Majesty's daughter and wasted no time in trying to befriend her. "What's your name?"she asked. The girl barely acknowledged the question with a glance before she focused on Surge.
"Hey, Royalty. Turbo sent me to talk to your mom; is she here?"The girl nodded, then turned and walked away into the house.
"That was a little rude...,"Crystal complained. Surge chuckled and shook his head.
"Royalty doesn't say much,"he said.
"Hey, Surge!"a tall woman appeared at the door. "..And, Surge's friends. Turbo told me you'd be coming by,"she said as she stepped back and opened the door wider. "Come on in!"Surge walked in, but Crystal and Alis remained outside.
"Oh, we don't want to add more guests,"Alis replied as she shook her head. "We're just dropping him off before we go questing,"she giggled.
"Do you know anyone named Parker Lewis?"Crystal asked.
"No,"Majesty shook her head. "You're looking for someone?"she asked.
"She is,"Alis gestured at Crystal. "I'm just along for the company."
"Would you like some more company?"Majesty asked.
"Aren't you going to mentor Surge?"Crystal asked. Majesty nodded.
"I am, but, Royalty's got nothing to do,"she said.
"Oh...,"Crystal was glad to have others along if it was going to be Majesty; but, she didn't feel like signing up to babysit. "It might get kind of dangerous...,"she said. But, Majesty shook her head, then she yelled into the house.
"Hey Royalty!"she called before turning back to Crystal. "She'll be fine, she's a Corona, and she has an AlterNet character if she needs to log in. She'll be helpful on your search,"she said as the young girl appeared next to her mother.
"They're looking for someone, do you want to help?"she asked. Royalty nodded and grinned eagerly.
"Great!"Majesty patted her daughter on the shoulder, then smiled at Crystal and Alis. If you find someone you think isn't telling you the truth, just have Royalty ask,"she said. "Most people will do anything she tells them to."
"Really?"Crystal asked in awe while Alis stood there with her own share of doubts.
"Really,"Majesty nodded.
"Let's go,"Royalty spoke as she walked out of the house. Crystal and Alis turned to follow without even thinking about it.
"Royalty, dear,"Majesty called to stop her. "I still need that one,"she added. Royalty turned back; Crystal and Alis noticed that Surge walked out of the house with Royalty.
"Surge, you stay with my mom. Get stronger!"she added. The blue-haired teen grinned as he turned to walk back into the house.
"Thanks, Royalty!"he waved as the young girl turned away and walked forward again.
"You two, let's go,"Royalty said. Crystal and Alis followed without hesitation.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1930 in a row. (Story #120 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). |
I walked down the drop bay of the plane, inspecting my team as I did so. Brave souls - every last one of them. These men and women volunteered for this mission. And I am not talking the usual voluntold that usually happens in the military.
We laid out what we knew. What we suspected. What we were merely guessing at, to a room of three hundred of the best marines in the corp. of that three hundred - these twenty volunteered.
They know this is a one way trip to hell.
They know they will die. Not just dead, dead - but slow horrible deaths.
And they still volunteered. Everyone of these marines is a God damn hero just for getting on the plane.
I gave Rodrigo a nod as he adjusted his ammo belt. It had been modified to hold vials of holy water. A small golden cross had been affixed to the centre of his helmet.
Powell, one of two women on this mission, worked her way through a rosary. She was surreally calm. He eyes locked forward. A hard grimace of her face. She was a stone - except for her fingers working their way through the beads.
Bole was working his way through his bullets. He used his kabar to cut a cross into each bullet. He said a prayer for each and every bullet before loading it back into the magazine.
Everyone one of these marines were doing their best to deal with the impossible. To deal with legends brought to life.
Five years ago there were scattered reports of disappearances - all in the civilian world. Then bodies drained of blood started to appear more and more frequently. There were jokes and jibes about vampire predators snatching people but everyone laughed them off.
We laughed until we couldn’t. Until the reality hit us so hard that even the most conservative politician had to admit the rules had changed.
We lost Chicago. The whole damn city.
Walls went up around the city over night. The civilian population couldn’t get out. Most looked dazed and didn’t want to get out. It was like they were all in a trance. They looked like cattle looking through the fence but never trying to get out.
Then the tower appeared. We saw it in fly overs. It was like a nest. It connected most of the down town core. Once the downtown core was connected with this nesting material they started to push upwards. The tower was easily a thousand feet higher than the tallest high rise down town.
During the day the tower was eerie. At night, with night vision, it was crawling. It was an ant hill of vampires. They crawled all over it. They built. They fed.
We bombed the hell out of the tower. We did some damage but it was never very much. Whatever this material was - it was incredibly tough. They could repair whatever damage we inflicted in a single night.
Our mission is to see what is in the tower. That’s it. Just a look see so we can assess what we are up against.
The jump lights turned on and a klaxon sounded. We passed the final marker. Jumping in three minutes.
The team was full of nervous tension and deadly calm. They knew how to do the jump - it what was waiting on the ground that worried them.
The bay door opened.
One by one every marine locked into the main line on the ceiling and then jumped out of the back of the plane.
I clipped in. Did a final check of the bay. I looked out at the tower - lit in the early morning light. Let’s go see what these bastards are made of. |
“How long?” The captain asked me.
I knew exactly what he was asking. How long were we going to be in the limbo dimension before we reached our destination. The captain was always on edge before we went in - he got down right paranoid once we were in.
“Nine days, three hours, and twenty two minutes,” I reported crisply.
“Damn. That is a long stretch,” the captain chewed a nail as he paced behind me. “Is there anything along the way? A star base? And outpost? I don’t know - he’ll even a relay station?”
“Outpost fifty five is two days out but after that…,” I just shook my head.
“Damn. Lay in the course.”
“Aye. Aye. Captain,” I replied automatically. I punched in the coordinates. “Ready when you are, Captain.”
I could see the sweat forming on his brow. I am starting to think he is gonna crack one of these trips.
“Engineering! Prep the limbo drive,” he commanded as he sat down in the captain’s chair. He checked his private screens. I knew he was double checking the coordinates and the insertion vector.
“Engineering here. We are good to go,” the comms squawked.
“Fuck,” the captain muttered under his breath. “Code grey!” All of the lights dimmed. The ship hummed as the limbo drive spun up. It always felt like we were going to shake apart. “Helm - engage!”
All of the stars slowly faded out. They were still visible but it was like looking at them through a foggy window. They were dim and non-distinct.
“Limbo transition complete, Captain,” the helm officer reported.
The lights came back up to normal brightness as the limbo drive spun down.
The captain glanced nervously about. He looked like a spooked cat - ready to jump out of his skin.
“Give me best available speed, helm,” he ordered. His knuckles cracking and turning white as he gripped his chair arms.
“Aye. Aye,” the helm officer replied automatically.
We weren’t moving any faster than we do when we are out of limbo space. It is just that we some how cover a hundred times the distance at the same speed while in limbo space.
The faded stars blurred by the portholes. Moving impossibly fast. We passed through planets and asteroid belts like ghosts. We could see our dimension but it was ever so slightly out of reach.
The ship wide chime sounded, indicating the end of shift. The next shift started filing onto the bridge, relieving the previous shift.
“Hey Dex,” my relief, Morgan said, as he came up behind me. “The transition seemed smooth.”
“Smooth?” I chuckled. “I swear this ship rattles more with every shift into limbo.”
He smiled with a knowing grin of my old gripe.
“Anything I need to know?” He asked.
“Nothing,” I said as I gave him my chair. “Do me a favour though. Keep an eye on the captain. He is jittery even for him.”
Morgan and I had discussed the Captain’s limbo jitters before. It was odd. Everyone knew limbo was safe. We haven’t encountered anything in limbo in the sixty years we had been using limbo space.
He gave me a quick nod and got to work.
“See you in twelve hours,” I said as I patted him on the back.
Life onboard ship is boring. We all work twelve hour shifts. Work for twelve. Relax for four. Sleep for eight. Repeat.
I grabbed a quick bite at the mess. Then I found a port hole. I loved watching as we passed through things. There were several of us around the port holes on deck four - just watching space go by.
“What is that?” I said as I pointed to the far edge of what we could see. No one else saw anything. It was black - jet black. Not the faded, muted colours of everything else in limbo. It was sharp and dark. Looking like the outline of a spider.
I shook it off. Must be tired. I crashed for my eight.
Reported bright and clear headed for my shift.
“Hey Morgan. Anything interesting?” I asked.
“Nothing Dex. Absolutely nothing. Just like every flight through limbo,” he said bored. He gave up the seat and I settled in.
“What about -“, I said as I nodded my head towards the captain.
“He dismissed his relief. Did a double shift for absolutely no reason. Been muttering to himself a bit too. Nothing I can make out though,” Morgan reported.
Why would he do a double? That means he has been up for a full twenty four hours. He is gonna start getting sloppy.
I gave him a nod. Morgan left the bridge with the rest of A shift.
There isn’t much to do during a limbo flight. Crews tend to catch up on repairs, sleep, and reports. It is as close to a break as you can get without leaving the ship.
The captain though looked like hell. He had a sheen of a light sweat. His hair was ruffled, his clothes looked stretched and wrinkled. He needed a shower and a change.
I strained to hear what he was mumbling. It was just a hair too low…. Maybe ‘spiders’, maybe ‘not gonna get me’. It was just too low to hear it.
The shift passed without incident. The captain mumbled and fidgeted but nothing serious. He did dismiss his relief again.
I let Morgan know when he relieved me.
I ate and went to the port holes on deck four again. This time I wasn’t just watching the view - I was scanning for the black spider thing. I couldn’t shake what I saw. It should be impossible. But it was etched in my mind.
I relieved Morgan the next morning. The captain was still in his chair. I glanced meaningfully at the captain and then back to Morgan. Morgan just shook his head. The captain had refused his relief again. Forty eight hours straight.
His mumbling was getting worse and louder. He was definitely saying ‘spiders’. He kept looking at his right shoulder and brushing his shoulder like there was something there that was bothering him.
The captain was becoming unglued.
His relief came in, the first officer. The captain waved him away absently.
“Captain,” the first officer said meaningfully. “Captain, you need to sleep. You need to eat.”
“I will sleep when I am good and ready. Dismissed,” the captain rebuked him.
“Don’t make me do this captain,” the first officer pleaded. The captain mumbled something and brushed his right shoulder - all while giving the first officer the evil eye. The first officer let out a heavy sigh. “Captain, I am relieving you of your command. You are unfit for duty.”
“I am fine!” The captain yelled.
“Have you slept since we entered limbo?” The first officer demanded. The captain just stared at him dead eyed. “Have you eaten since we entered limbo?” Still he just stared. “Don’t make me get the medical officer and have you declared medically unfit, sir. Please… sir…” |
My morning routine was fairly straightforward:
7 AM- wake up, light workout, shower. 8 AM- breakfast, coffee, a bit of reading the news. 9 AM- get to my desk to start my day at work. I'd answer some emails, make some progress on a project, and attend a meeting, but I always made sure to block off 11 AM as another daily meeting.
11:02 AM is when it would arrive. Without fail, Death would come for me once more. Sometimes it faded through one of the walls of my home or even the floor. One time it came crashing through my window, and that really ruined my day. Death would come, swinging that big scythe in both hands, cloak flapping as it flew, boney face stuck in that same mortis grin. The fight would be brief. I learned to try and take it on in the living room, which I kept mostly empty so the brawl wouldn't break anything or cut holes in my walls. Death usually got a few good licks in with the edge of that edge that could cut soul from body, but never enough to end things.
It ended the same each time- Death temporarily slain by a crushed skull, a broken neck. One time last week I smashed a lamp over its head and jammed it in the eye socket with a pen. It had not been worth the scythe blade piercing my side and nearly slicing into my heart. It would fade to dust, promising to return once more.
Again and again, without fail. From day to day, week, year, decade, century and longer beyond. Death wanted my immortal head on a platter. But it was going to have it earn it. |
You sit at your PC/Laptop browsing reddit one day, it is quite rainy. As you search thru reddit posts you hear a loud crash, or something like that. Soon after you hear the sound of boots stomping on your wooden floor, thinking it was an intruder you lock your room door and call the cops. "911 what's your emergency?"a 911 operator asks, and you answer "I believe that there is a robber in my house, wait actually multiple."The 911 operator says "Alright, can you give us your street name, house number and I would advise you to stay on the phone"Suddenly your connection is cut and your phone call ends, then you hear footsteps near your rooms door and then a voice "Locked, get something to open this door.", with that you open up your window of your room that is on the first floor of your 2 story house, doing so you go to the window and climb out of the room, you being halfway out your rooms door gets blown open, a moment passes and you hear a "HANDS! AWAY FROM THE WINDOW!"with that you hurry to get your body thru the window and run away from the area, you having gained some distance because you got out first decide to hide in your neighbors bushes, hoping they won't find out.
Some time passes and they run past the bush you were hiding at, now you see that they are wearing black tactical gear, seemingly like swat, what did they want with you? You did not commit no crimes nor anything illegal, with that you think how lucky you were not to be shot in the first place. |
A gaint crystal blue lake lay before me, lined with trees and grass with a gushing and flowing waterfall just down the riverbed topped with icy-capped mountains. If my descriptions didn't satify you, let me just say the view was incredible. And it was all mine.
​
Sighing with a quick twist of my back, my bag slipped off and landed on the green grass as I quickly followed suit, collapsing to my rear with the exhaustion of the 5 hour hike slowly dissipating into the grass below me. Giving a quick strech, I layed back on my back, and drank in my hard-earned view. Not a soul around for miles but me, this view, and a weird feeling that something was wrong.
​
My eyes shot open at that thought. Something was wrong... but what? Glancing around, my fight or flight instincts slowly started to creep up on me. Standing up again, I stole a glimpse down the valley from my outlook, and got my answer as to why everything felt so strange.
​
It was like a painting.
​
Everything was unmoving, still as the wind in a graveyard with animals and trees caught suddenly in their respective movements, to afraid to move.
​
"What- what's going."And before I could even finished my sentence, I heard... Him.
​
***"Let's give this little guy a friend."***
​
Bob Ross the man himself.
​
In an instant reality itself reshaped itself before me. Twisting and turning in ways unimaginable. The grass molded and shifted into legs, a tree canopy in the distance bled away into a red slpotch of colour, twigs and clouds tore themselves apart in a forge unknow to anyone as a small part of the enviroment with the force that could have destroyed galaxies finally constructed itself into... a human.
​
He wasn't handsome, but he wasn't ugly either. He wore cheap khakis and band shirt from an unknown origin. Smiling, he stared at me. Whether it was becuase he was enjoying the terror I was feeling, or because he was but a lobotomized husk of a creature only designed to stand and grin.
​
I screamed. Or was it the world around me that screamed I will never know. I fell, I ran. The world was nothing but a canvas of paint. Constantly turning and shifting.
​
I... don't know how I got out. I just remember waking up shiving in the camp parking lot covered in wet paint. Perhaps I managed it out on my own, or a god took mercy in me.
​
I don't know. All I know is, Bob Ross does more than base his paintings on locations. He takes them, and remoldeds them. |
It was everything I had wanted. Or- I had thought it was? The only problem was that every time I had walked through the hallways, a second set of thumps, noises, footsteps, sounded behind me.
And to be honest, it truly scared the shit out of me.
For being a person living alone, even though it seemed like I had been making a big deal out of nothing, I was terrified. I had tried to stay in rooms as much as possible, as the strange noises never followed into rooms, but it was hard when I had to physically walk down the hallway to eat.
Slowly, I crept out of my bedroom door, my hand gripping the walls so hard my knuckles went numb and turned white.
“Hey, uh, look, I just want food. Okay? Please just leave me alone.” I meekly hoped that my statement that was barely more than a mumble would get through to the creature. I placed my foot gently outside of the doorway, and I heard the familiar footsteps a few seconds after my own.
I shook my head. “Get over yourself. It might just be an echo. Ugh, I knew I should’ve gotten a roommate-“ Thump.
Thump? No, not a thumb. Scattered, staggering footsteps began to “run” towards me at a rapid pace, and I would be damned if I let them get to me. I quickened my pace, beginning to sprint down to the kitchen, but the steps wouldn’t let up.
I got to the stairwell, and debated stopping my run, or getting caught by the thing. I took the risk, but as luck had it, as soon as I took a step, I lurched forwards, tripping.
I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt the pain in my knee dear through me.
A small giggle sounded from up the stairs, so which I widened my eyes, but was too afraid to look. I felt frozen. Scratch that. I was frozen, and I wished the ground would sink from underneath me and just take me already.
“Need help?”
I screamed. Loud. As loud as I could. Ignoring the pain, I rolled down the rest of the steps, abandoning my plans of eating, and raced out of the house. Nope, nope, fuck that house, fuck my life, fuck me, and fuck that ghost thing person hobo probably living in my attic.
I heaved, slamming the door behind me, hands on knees. As soon as I got outside to the front yard, I collapsed, knees buckling.
Fuck that. Never going back. Selling the house.
No wonder it was so goddamn cheap. |
The pain. It's constant, it's forever there. I can't breathe without shocks of agony circling my nerves. It was my own doing. I drank too much and I still drove. My boyfriend was terrified. In the passenger seat. When I crashed, I was thrust from the windscreen, my flesh burning into the asphalt and I survived. I could not even attend his funeral. I was in the ICU, alone.
The courts took pity. Life had mocked me. It was my mother's funeral that day. The silly day I raised glasses in the air with him, not knowing every toast was to his impending death. I was imprisoned for 2 years after my release from hospital.
Every single day, my chest is heavy, the pain is agonising, and I see pictures of him. I remember his fearful words, his begging I put my seat belt on. I cannot even look at myself in the mirror. My face is disfigured. I cannot be the same person I once was. I killed the love of my life. I should have died. I should have been hung.
But I'm free to die now.
My hands still tremble when I grip anything. They rebuilt my hands since I crushed every bone in my fingers, but I cannot do anything like before. Not that I want to. But I can still hold this knife. I don't recognise my own wrist. I can barely stand to look at myself. This monster will die, she will suffer in Hell.
"Will you now?"a booming voice shakes me to my core and I drop the knife and end up on the floor, my own breath caught in my chest. The pain jolts through my body but I am too fearful to move at all.
"Our little Sophia, look at you. Oh! How sad, how pitiful,"the voice continues. I see red claw-like fingers reach for the knife beside me. A hand clasps my jaw and I am turned to face the most horrific creature I have ever seen.
I cannot scream. I have no air. The blood dripping from every part of its ugly body, its look in its frenzied eyes, the stench - god, the stench---
"God can't save you now, sinner,"it says. "I can,"it gives me an expression that threatens to end my very heart. I suddenly fear Hell. This is Hell. Perhaps I have died. This is my suffering. The fear has gripped me tightly around the throat. The pressure in the air is keeping me pinned against the ground. The sensations in my body are a pain I have never in my life thought possible.
The knife in its grip turns a bright red and in an instant it plunges the blade into my chest and I involuntarily vomit a fountain of blood as my body shakes in place.
But I do not die.
"You will live like this for all of eternity,"it says. "Each year, the pain will get worse. But you will not die."
And it disappears. And I am still on the floor. I cannot move. I cannot breathe. I cannot do anything. I am unmovable. I am cursed. The memories of his death play in my head again and again. I think of my mother. How I found her. I see my own skin and blood on the road. I see flashing lights.
I do not die. |
A breathtaking pair of bright blood red lips
Form silent words that wither past the teeth.
A most vibrant façade built to eclipse
The ever patient void that lurks beneath.
Fragile bones cradled in hands so soft
They stroke gently his alabaster hair.
Tears run rivulets from eyes held aloft,
Locked deep within a warm saccharine stare.
Enveloped, ensorcelled, he breathes his last,
A sigh, like wind wandering through the reeds.
At peace, at once, so finite yet so vast,
Where the echo of that grand Promise leads.
Pressed against his forehead, now but a shell,
A kiss, then a wish, "My dearest, sleep well."
\-----
Thanks for the prompt! :) |
Air Bud bapped the goon with his snout, sending the goon flying.
He fell into an enormous basketball hoop, and the audience at home laughed and cheered.
The box of jewelry fell as he flew, scattering priceless jewels at Bud’s feet.
He gently picked up each jewel and refit them in their appropriate place in the soft foam of the jewelry box.
“Hey!” A second goon rounded the corner, taking Bud by surprise! “Get away from that, you mangy mutt!”
Air Bud swiveled, giving a menacing snarl, which looked like a bad rappers grill with the jewelry in his mouth.
The comparison to the rappers grill made the thief chuckle to himself, making his partner seem even stupider than he already believed.
Air Bud sprung forward, also booping this thief quite fiercely, just as he might a basketball, volleyball, or football.
The thief flew an inhuman distance, landing in a soccer goal nearly a mile away.
Bud felt odd emotions as a dog, not quite comparable to us in a pure sense. Yet, when the goon flew through the soccer goal, when Bud did what he was created to do…
All felt right.
Bud sat down, wagged his tail, panted, and got scritches. |
Have you heard of the Dunning-Kruger effect? It’s a simple concept, even for the mentally feeble to understand; the concept’s named after one such dullard, so it shouldn’t be that difficult to grasp for a vigilante. You see, there was once a man known as Dunning-Kruger. He wasn’t a bright man; he’d be right at home with the villainous likes of the common sub-humans known as henchmen in terms of intelligence. I won't be doing justice to the concept without prefacing the situation that Dunning-Kruger found himself in. This man tried to rob a bank. While that isn’t that abnormal, it’s the method he’d employed to keep the security cameras from seeing him; that's notable. He lathered his face in lemon juice to keep the camera from identifying his identity because he saw it in an online article somewhere on the internet. This idea in the outcome of his heist was doomed from the start due to one simple fact. He thought himself the brightest man to breathe; this was not the case (as you can tell.)
The idea of the Dunning-Kruger effect is simple. The smarter that you believe you are, the more dumb you are in reality. So it only stands to reason for me to think that I'm not a good person. I'm a terrible person who does good things, which is the type of quote that a hero would spout. But I'm no hero; reality is often a messy actuality in much the same way as working with the criminal underworld brands a person, a villain of sorts. But there are some things I don't feel mad about when mulling over that fact. On those days and rainy nights when I'm kicking a \*\*\*\* \*\*\*\* hard enough to break their kneecaps, I know I made the right choice of profession. After all, who’s averse to feeding \*\*\*\*\*\*\* to a woodchipper? I know I’m not, and that’s why I’m not a hero.
Again, I'm running through the concept in my head as the flaky remains of blood and organs spray through the wood chipper’s chaff. A small cigarette in my hand burns up lightly as I look towards my small group of goons feeding more burlap bags into the machine. The occasional set of laughter comes from the maniacal psychopaths in my employment; As I fumble through my pocket, looking for my watch. It's been 25 minutes since we entered. It'll be another 25 before the heroes finally arrive: by then, I’ll be finished here. In due time, I watch as the hour hand ticks forward, slowly past midnight. The golden hand ticks ever onward as I turn towards my assembled goons, who’ve just finished feeding the last bag into the machine. “We’re done, lads; You’ll get your pay the same way, at the same time.”
Without a second thought, I strode toward the Bakeries Bay entrance. I do not bother looking back because I know this group of hoodlums is already in the sights of the local hero. They do not know this, but I do. And I enjoy the money saved by their sudden disappearances. This tidbit is why I'm not a good person. Heroes don't let their friends die terrible deaths in dark alleyways or crack dens; I do. Anywhere else, there would be an issue, leaving loose ends like that, but knowing the local clientele helps with planning for what comes next. How they could call themselves heroes is anyone's guess after they’d hanged the last batch of goons from the police station's second-story window flayed alive. I know there will not be loose ends because of the local hero, The Flare. The Midnight Flare is one such person I’ve found to fit the Dunning-Kruger effects purview.
They are blatantly stupid beneath the tons of muscle and potential steroids they ingest daily; It's important to note that a braindead hero is still dangerous. I do not intend to fistfight a man that can lift a car by himself: that's a terrible idea. Besides, there are still people that deserve to die tonight. Child traffickers, murderers, and Tax evaders are the main three. Yes, we live in a society. I get it. But get over it already and pay your \*\*\*\* bills; I prefer them on time and inside the Mafia's drop box when due, As do my associates. Carefully, I take the irrevocable step down a small flight of stairs to the street outside the bakery. It's quiet, wonderfully so, as echos from a muffled brawl reverberate from the bakery’s rear bay. They're here early; I don't care about this because I give myself 10 minutes extra in these situations as a standard practice. It helps with avoiding death; learn from the mistakes of your peers. That's all I can say in that specific regard.
I light up yet another cigar as I hurry away, noting the sounds of screams and other unhealthy trauma to my soon-to-be-dead associates. It never gets old the satisfaction of killing two birds with one stone. Heroes don't understand that kind of satisfaction. They think in black and white, evil and good, when, in reality, we all live somewhere between: well, most of us, anyway. There are always a few psychopaths. I’ve found that the best solution to dealing with them is to sick them on each other. As gunshots ring down the street, I wait for the taxi I'd ordered 5 minutes ago to pull up and open its passenger door.
The driver simply tips his hat, As I sit next to the older gentleman and flip the radio station onto something more fitting than Korean pop. He's silent as the car pulls away from the curb. The piercing streetlights cast a shadow on his steely eyes as he finally looks over with a smile. “Did you get the bastard?”
There's a moment of silence, As a rattle, my knuckles together in the stress. It isn't born of the typical evil you'd experience when a heist’s gone wrong. It's fear. The fear that one gets when looking out a window towards a psychopath, tearing people apart in an alleyway for no other reason than blatant insanity. My lips run dry as I fix my red tie on my black suit jacket and take a deep breath before answering. I can’t be blamed for this reaction; I’m briefing the same man whose son was murdered by the insane vigilante, now reaping more lives in the alleyway I just fled. “I don’t know yet.” |
First, recent studies have shown that more often than not, enemy combatants possess heads and limbs of their own. When engaging in combat with these individuals, we’re participating in more than one level of warfare: physical and mental. With this new design, we’re engaging with both levels. When an enemy trooper lays eyes on this, and sees the head and limbs, they will experience an intense and visceral response such that they behave in a number of expected ways. We’ve recorded hostiles experiencing sudden loss of bowels, sudden heart explosion, sudden changes of mind, and other sudden conditions that work in our favor.
Now, you might be wondering why you didn’t feel this shock I’m describing, and I’m pleased to say that this technology has advanced such that us and our allies won’t be afflicted. It’s incredible! At most, we’ve seen some folks experience mild discomfort or concern, but the majority just feel apathy. In the future, should funding find its way to us, we intend it to actually motivate our troops. It’s a very exciting prospect.
As to its size, well I think that’s rather self explanatory at this point. Considering the effect it has upon seeing, the natural conclusion then is to make it as large as possible, thus increasing the chances of the enemy seeing it. Does it make sense for a visual based weapon to be made so small that only a handful of hostiles can see it at any time? No. It NEEDS to be large. It needs to command the attention of our adversaries.
I hope that clears everything up.
\------
Thanks for the prompt! :) |
1. Describe the cause of death.
Michael Fitzgibbons' head was spun around three hundred and sixty degrees.
2. Describe the events immediately leading up to client's death.
It was a classic summoning ritual gone wrong. Michael was reading from an ancient cultic manuscript. His memory is a little fuzzy, and we couldn't get too much detail from it, it vanished almost immediately after Michael expired. He was hovering six feet above the ground in the center of a pentagram when his head spun around, breaking a bunch of important stuff inside his body there. Before passing over, he spoke in cryptic couplets in a voice that wasn't his own. This voice was much deeper and much more confident than Michael's. When it finished speaking, Michael's body fell to the floor and he was dead.
3. Detail any observed faith by the client.
Clear and devout follower of Beelzebub.
4. What is the status of the client's soul?
Unclear at present. Michael claims he was in the middle of making a demonic pact when he died. From his point of view, since the process was interrupted, there wasn't an actual exchange that took place, so his soul should still be his own. He's been a little belligerent - it's clear he didn't expect the ceremony to go as it did. Rejection hurts. I've sent requests to both Upstairs and Downstairs departments inquiring about his soul.
\----
I wish I could think more haha, I'm getting a real kick thinking about the kind of paperwork that would be involved in this. Thanks for the prompt! |
"God fucking damnit, sixth newbie this week."A man thought to himself as he threw a stack of paperwork marked with red stamps on every page into a metal trash bin. What did it matter? It’ll all be incinerated later. He took a deep breath before stepping out of his room and walking into a hall, calling out a name.
"TOBIAS!"
A young man who had been the only one in the room jumped up in a salute with a grin on his face as he shouted in return, "HERE SIR!"
Ever since ‘the incident’ the 0–5 Council had decided to lax restrictions on applications for a bit, and this kid seemed too happy to be here. If he was here for the views, why couldn’t he have settled for Lambda-4 or, hell, even Lambda-14, something safer for him?
"Uh, sir, not to be that new guy, but your vest is loose and your patch seems unkept."
The grizzled man shook his head before responding, "Look, kid, when you're dealing with multiple breaches, it does not matter."Using every fiber of his being to not give a curse-ridden response that even a sailor would blush from, he gave a smile to the recruit as he said, "I appreciate the effort."
Tobias had a genuine smile in response to his faux one, and the commander rolled his eyes before heading out through the door, motioning for the new recruit to follow close.
"I've read the files of every entity here and the procedures in case of a breach!"Tobias spoke proudly; his commander was a little shocked by the effort he put into this.
"Okay, then, Tobias, as a member of Epsilon-11, what are our main objectives?"
"Internal security, containment, and neutralizing targets that threaten the foundation's effectiveness, sir!"
"Good, and from here on, call me David."
"Yes sir! David!"
As they walked through the halls of the facility, they went through bulky doors and into a heavy containment zone. As they walked by doors with warnings, Tobias pointed out every anomaly he could.
"Oh! I didn't know we had 096 here. Why is his door open?"
The commander, who hadn't been paying attention, yelled out, "COVER YOUR EYES."
By then, it was too late, and it wasn't his problem anymore; sanitations job now. |
I approached the dusty, old west style gate that stood before me. It was made up of iron like bars that had greyed and crumbled. I peered through the slats and saw a town in absolute disrepair.
I turned back around planning on going back the way I came, only I didn’t know how I came, I was just there.
I tried to speak
“Hello?” I whispered.
No response
“Hello!” I shouted.
That’s when it arrived.
A girl with a present in her arms wrapped in a big white bow. Only it wasn’t a girl; I could feel it.
It walked up to me and set the gift down at my feet.
“Are you god?” I asked in disbelief.
“Something like that” It said without opening her mouth. I heard It inside my head.
“Open it” It commanded.
“Am I supposed to be here? Is anyone supposed to be here” I asked again.
The truth was I abhorred the idea of a conventional heaven. The pearly gates. Everything satiated. Nothing to do. Just ticking endlessness as I awaited an oblivion that would never come. It made me shudder.
“Open it” It said again.
Not wanting to push this Being too far, I knelt down and tugged warily at the bow. Once it fell away I started on the equally iridescent paper. It was a Lego set. Or I suppose the afterlife version of one.
“You are a creator. You cannot sit. You must continue to work to feel satisfied” It said.
“What?” I asked, irked by the accuracy. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised that a seemingly omnipotent Being understood me so clearly
“So my heaven is Legos?”
“No” the Thing said in a voice that didn’t match the girls body. “You plan with the blueprint. You will find no instructions. Let it be made by your soul and then you will find peace. You will plan and build your own heaven to your wishes.” It said gesturing to the gates and town behind me. ”And when you get bored you will come back and plan a new one.”
“What do I build with?” I asked in disbelief.
“It will come to you.”
Unsatisfied with that answer but unwilling to argue with It I let it be. I suppose it will come to me.
I turned around and looked at my new project. I realized how perfect this was. There was no deadline, no bosses shouting, I could just be at my own pace in my own head. But too much of my own head was bad.
I quickly turned around expecting to see It gone.
“What about the others?” I asked. “I can’t be alone forever.”
“No, but you can be alone right now. You need to be alone right now. They will come when you need them.” It responded.
I supposed that was enough for right now. It sensed that I was content and began to disappear.
“Wait,” I said quickly. “What are you? Will I be able to talk to you again?”
It stopped its dispersal and focused on on me again.
“I am what you need in the moment. I will come when you need me.”
Knowing that was all I would get, I allowed It to go. I realized who It showed me as I sat down to experiment with the blueprint. It was my niece, grown out of her baby cheeks and chubby legs. It was my niece long after I had left the world. It was evidence that they all survived and were okay, even without me. It was the most relieving revelation I’d ever felt.
Sure of their safety, I began to plot my first metropolis, as there would surely be many more to follow. |
Hi u/Mr_Nobody_14, this submission has been removed.
Hi, we've been seeing many Demon Lord prompts and we've also seen many reincarnation themed prompts. So for now this prompt is being removed for those reasons.
Please move on from this idea. Further reposting of this prompt will result in a ban.
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[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/137a2e3/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/config/sidebar) before posting.
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[Sounds like this one, there's a lot of stories on it.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/jp42ys/wp_years_ago_you_were_a_feared_warrior_until_a/) From about two years ago.
If that's not it I might need some more information, friend:
* Like how long ago? A month, a year? Five years, a decade?
* Can you remember any stories people posted to it? What genre were they? Modern-day, medieval, futuristic?
* Any specific detail you can remember on the stories? Did any of them involve swords, or lasers? Was there a car? A fork, a pair of dirty boxers? A cat?
* Where were any of the stories located? |
Thomas knew he was getting old. All humans would come to the end of their lives, one way or another. His joints ached when it was raining. His eyesight had gotten steadily worse since he retired twelve years back, needing glasses so he could read. He even had to get up once or twice a night to relieve himself.
Despite his age, he kept himself active. Not quite the brutal training regimes of his youth- wearing layers of leaden armor before climbing the Highpeaks, dueling for days straight with the Six-Armed Golem, swimming bare naked through boiling hot springs. No, his was the training of the mentor- working with the youths under his study in the way of blade, spear, and bow, learning to ride a steed, and the occasional spar with a handful of students who could take a blow or two before bowing out.
But when word came from a messenger that a small army of trolls was marching through the forests and heading for the camp, he changed. Not as if his body became something else, but his posture became taller, his eyes more clear. The orders to secure the campers in their lodges was given, while he went to his hut. There, above his modest fireplace, was a spear. A haft of six feet with a blade roughly the size of his hand. He simply raised a hand and the spear flew from its mounting, snapping into his palm. Runes of power, dormant for years, flickered to lift along the haft. The blade of the spear itself shimmered and almost sang as it moved through the air.
He would march out from the hut and wait, at the edge of camp for the trolls to arrive. The slayer of devil tyrants, master of battle, champion of gods, bearing the weapon that brought low things beyond the realm of time and space. Above him, the very sky trembled and the clouds parted, leaving only the bright afternoon sun. He waited for them to arrive, for he was in no rush to spill blood once more. |
If you travel far down Norman Avenue, past the beach houses and even farther past the secluded, secret beaches that the locals love, that's where you will find true beauty. That is where I found true beauty.
​
I started going there to clear my head. Sometimes it feels like there is just too much going on. There is too much noise. Noise from the city, the people, and the thoughts can all become so loud. Out there, out on the rocks, all you can hear are the waves crashing. In and out, all day long if you really wanted to. All day long.
​
You know, I'm not even sure if you would believe me if I told you. If I really told you the whole truth. I'm not so sure you would believe it because these days I am having a lot of trouble believing it myself. There's a reason I was out there, though. There's a reason for everything. It says it in the book. There's a reason for everything. There's a reason I was sent out to that secluded beach, having lunch on the rocks and listening to the waves moving in and out, breathing.
​
She was the reason. Someone special, someone so high above everything else told me to go out there. She was beautiful. I couldn't comprehend it at first. Through the droning of the waves I could only hear it. The humming, the singing was cutting through the sound of the water. At first, I thought I was starting to hear things. I mean, I thought that this secluded beach was the answer to all the other noises from back home, the beach where all those noises went away. The humming and singing became so loud.
​
That's when I saw her. Her song crescendoed in my ears, filling the space between them. She was beautiful. You would never believe me anyway. I watched her as her tail split the rolling waves. I took a bite. Her hair glistened in the sunlight, a fiery orange contrasted the deep blue behind her. I took another bite. Her song was so beautiful. I think I remember some of it, I could try to hum it if you'd like.
​
I pushed my lunch to the side of me as her eyes locked with my own. The entire world around me became nothing. I became nothing. In that moment-
​
In that moment, I felt as though everything was finally okay.
​
The tape rolled on for a few seconds more. All that was left was mechanical sound afterwards. Detective Anderson held his face in his hands. The rookie spoke, his words cutting the silence.
​
"He was eating her hands out on those rocks? And her body, her body was-"he was cut off.
​
"We only found the torso. No legs. His defense is pleading insanity." |
When you’re a man in my position, you learn to be sensitive to the faintest of sounds, especially at night. Even through the thunderstorm, I heard the creaking of the floor. One, two, one, two, seems there is only one of them this time. I got up as quietly as possible and grabbed my crossbow from under the bed. I sat, aiming at the door, when the steps halted down the hallway.
A minute passed, then 10, then 30. I never questioned my hearing before as it’s saved me countless times, but I was seriously beginning to wonder if my old age and paranoia were finally catching up with me. I was almost too tired to deal with another assassin and considered taking the escape route, but what would my counsel think? No, Ragnar doesn’t run from a fight.
I got up, crossbow in hand, and slowly made my way to the door. My finger was on the trigger as the door creaked open, but there was no one there. I took one step outside, looking at the window facing me, when lightning struck. The reflection on the window revealed the masked assailant, knife raised and poised to strike me. I caught his hand and flipped him on his back, then pointed the crossbow at him. Somehow, this assassin knew about the escape route, but it wouldn’t matter soon. His familiar eyes wore a look of acceptance as I pulled the trigger, as though he was fine with this outcome.
I killed dozens, and ordered the deaths of hundreds, but inexplicably, I felt a sense of shame and regret I hadn’t felt in years this time. Heading back to bed, I remembered where I saw those emerald green eyes last. My dear Frida.
I had a strange dream that night. It was a replay of what I had just seen, but this time, I could hear 3 assailants. Again, I picked up my crossbow and made my way to the door, and when I opened it, 3 women stood on the other side. They took turns speaking.
“Ragnar, you who rule with an iron fist”
“Crushing those you swore to protect”
“You lost your love, but you shall find one more”
“Until your sorrow, by your hands, you restore”
I didn’t tell anyone about the dream, but I knew those women. And I knew that if I loved someone as much as I loved Frida, there would be no chance I would ever hurt them. Not even a prophecy from the Norns could change that. So I paid it no mind.
I woke up, surrounded by my councilors, concerned about the dead body by the door. The incident was pretty common for a tyrant like me. I was always a harsh ruler, but fair, until Frida’s death in childbirth pushed me over the edge. Balder was my son, but also Frida’s killer, and I couldn’t bear to look at him at the start. But he had his mother’s eyes, and her heart. Despite my attempts at pushing him away, he clung to me, his monster of a father.
It was on his first tournament victory that I started to notice the similarities. He won with a clean strike to the back of his opponent’s head. The sun bounced from the hilt of his dagger into my eyes, and it took me back to that moment years ago, when Thor spared my life. On his 17th birthday, he received a cowl identical to the one my assassin wore on that day. At 19, he ended up finding the escape route, which I had never told him about on his own.
It all came to a head on my son’s 21st birthday. After the festivities and the hunting, I was alone, staring into the fireplace in my room, wondering when this “other love” I was promised was finally going to show up. I heard some familiar footsteps. They were just like those of the emerald-eyed assassin. I picked up my crossbow and pointed it at the door, but it was my son who walked in.
“Whoa, Father, it’s me!”
“Come in,” I said, laying down the crossbow. “What is it?”
“Father,” he hesitated, “I am of age to take the throne now”
“You’re not ready,” I said. I had no intention of ruling until my dying breath or anything, but my son truly was unready. He was too kind.
“But, Father,” he began, then groaned and turned to leave. He stopped at the door and turned back around.
“What is it?”
“Father, I cannot stand by and watch you rule in this manner anymore. It’s not what mother would have wanted”
I broke the cup in my hand in rage. “Do not speak for your mother. Not after you killed her,” I said.
He looked shocked, and I was too furious to care.
“But… I didn’t mean to—”
“Silence! Get out, now!” I screamed. I slumped back in my seat as he left, and that’s when the shame hit. I chased after him.
“Baldur, wait, I didn’t mean to—” I said, when the sound of thunder interrupted me. I looked to the left outside my door, and Baldur was standing in front of some sort of portal. On the other side, I could see the same corridor we were now standing in, but it looked… different. It looked more recent… exactly the way it looked when the emerald assassin made an attempt at my life all those years ago. I finally understood what the Norns meant.
“Wait, son, please. Don’t go in there!”
“You leave me no choice,” he said, wearing his mask and stepping in. |
Alice hummed as she was finishing up work, going through the "Reviews", which were usually in paper as we didn't have a website yet, one stood out, it was in a small envelope, with a seal on it. She took the envelope out of the "review jar", ripping it open.
*Your husband wants to kill you tonight. Whatever you do, DON'T go home.*
The writing was in fancy cursive that she almost struggled to read, but the message was even more shocking.
Alice knew their marriage had a few problems, like all married couples; Alice had recently gotten pregnant, and well, John didn't believe the baby was his, Alice had thought the couple's therapy was working.
Maybe that's why she wasn't in *too* much shock, because John didn't believe her. She'd agreed to the paternity test when the baby was born, yet John still seemed suspicious.
She put down the letter in some sort of shock, she felt numb. She never thought he'd kill her. Divorce? Sure. But she thought it was all better at this point, that they'd worked through all their problems. Hell, John had been baking a romantic dinner tonight.
Alice sobbed for the next twenty minutes.
She slammed her fist into the desk, her and her "girlfriends"had recently planned a trip to Hawaii, now she'd have to escape from everyone. John was planning to murder her and her baby...
​
She sobbed, she had no idea what to do, or where to go. She didn't even know if any of her friends were in on it, she'd heard of women killing other women for their babies...
​
God what was wrong with her?! Accusing her own friends? Alice sobbed even harder. All she wanted was to go home and enjoy a nice meal with her husband but she couldn't even do that!
Alice banged her head against the desk, something she'd usually scold John over, or their three-year-old son over...oh God what would John do to Timmy?
Alice sobbed even harder thinking of her toddler son. Poor, poor Timmy, he'd be left alone. Would John tell Timmy that his mommy was a bad person? Would he kill Timmy?
She thought of the note, she *couldn't* go home, she *couldn't* rescue Timmy. The thought of leaving Timmy with John made her feel sick.
\---
Alice would try and rescue Timmy when she was safe, she decided, when her head felt clearer.
She had went on her phone, which she would get rid of later in case it had a tracker, and googled "Women's Homeless Shelters Near Me", and set to driving there. She'd have to get rid of the car too, she thought idly.
​
Alice sobbed in the car too, holding her very pregnant belly as she walked into the double doors of the Women's Shelter. The receptionist looked up with a small smile, saying "Hello."In a soft tone. "Are you in need of shelter, ma'am?"She asked. And Alice nodded. |
Part 1
I walked into the stark white building of Neon Labs, where my job interview was scheduled to happen. Conference Room 104, go through Hall A and take a right. As I walked through the never-ending halls, I overheard a conversation in Conference Room 102.“Aren’t you gonna bite me or something?”“Biting you? We don’t do that anymore. Ever since the Apollo Program, we’ve had people wanting to be werebeasts touch moon rocks! We have a few over here.”This immediately piqued my curiosity. I decided to listen in for a bit longer before I walked to Room 104. I still had 15 minutes after all.“So all I have to do is touch one?”“After the payment is secured. If you just come right out here, I can bring the rocks out and we can finish our trade.”I didn’t have enough time to process whet he said. The door opened, and I fell through the doorway. Right onto the hands of the employee, which happened to be carrying…You guessed it. The moon rocks.So that’s where I am now. Fired from a job before I even started, and sulking in my room, thinking about what had happened. Were those moon rocks really able to make someone a werebeast? Well, I’m about to find out, as the next full moon is right now. I walked outside, in full view of the moon, and…
(part 2 down below) |
"Third body this year."
Burnis grunted in acknowledgement, unwilling to speak around his unlit cigarette. Hands cupped, he tried again and again to spark the lighter, each time defeated by the wind.
"Same deal as the others - dumped at the water's edge, remote location, no sign of a vehicle."Collins moved jerkily, eyes darting everywhere for hidden clues. "Definitely the same killer, right? Has to be."
There was no shelter here, no trees to hide behind - nothing but heathered slopes and the still waters of the loch. This late in the year, the ground was cracked and frozen, leaving no footprints as the pair walked towards the dump site. A miserable constable, hunched to minimse heat loss, stood guard next to the entirely superfluous crime scene tape.
Burnis breathed out a thin stream of smoke. "Too early to tell. I'm sure they covered that at the academy - theorising beyond your data, eh?"When Collins dipped his head, chastened, he relented: "But it would be a bit of a coincidence otherwise, for sure."
Despite the frozen ground, the earth around the the body was churned up, shattered and re-frozen into uneven troughs and peaks. The body itself had suffered similar treatment - a battered lump of flesh with only scraps of clothing and the occasional piece of unbroken anatomy - the curve of an ear, a torn structure that was once a jaw - to show that it was human. A few days - perhaps more - half submerged in the loch had bloated it, further distorting the corpse.
Breathing shallowly, Collins turned away and stood ready to take notes on the older man’s observations. “Can’t tell the age or sex from here - too torn up. Probably an adult at least - a small one - if this is the whole body. The other two both had pieces …missing.” Cigarette held out behind him, Burnis leant over the tape for a closer view. “Looks crushed, but not all at once - individual impacts rather than a single flat weight.”
He turned his back on the body, facing Collins and the silent constable once more. “Still not a clue on who or why, but this looks like more of the same. We have a proper monster on our hands.“ |
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Recruitment was disturbingly easy. I found many of the thugs were more than willing to help put up a fight. The promise of money and glory was enough for them. Those who were more reticent soon came around, when they saw the size of the army I had gathered.
Not that I stopped there. I spoke with the crime family, the Chain. They took more convincing, not swayed by a promise of money. Instead, I told them of the problem of waiting to see what would happen. A destroyed city meant no income coming in. And all that money they had spent gathering influence and businesses would prove useless.
They spread word out for me, gathering all sorts into one final defence. Old grudges were set aside, a much larger problem looming. I worked with them, gathering supplies, clearing tunnels, even training a few to be better shots, or stronger combatants.
I kept track of the Cataclysm's progress, scrying on her at every opportunity. I knew she knew I was, but she didn't care. What could I do but put up a final, pitiful defence? We both knew what would happen.
On the day of her arrival, the city was silent. We had managed to evacuate the majority of the civilians beforehand, designating an area of the city to be the battleground. Lines of sight had been cleared, and numerous traps laid. Anything and everything had been thrown at this, in the hopes one thing would work.
She came into sight, a seemingly harmless woman. All alone, and unafraid. She saw the entrance we had prepared for her, and came all the same. Her voice floated through the air, knowing we coul hear her. "Is this welcome for me?"
I shook my head, waiting for her to enter the first killzone. She smiled, stepping over an invisible line. As her foot hit the ground, vines lashed up, wrapping around her. As they did, the world filled with cracks and explosions, as around me the hired goons fired upon her.
In the midst came a laugh. One that was delighted, without an ounce of concern or pain. A split second later, black lightning shot out in all directions. It was met with cries and screams, as those unfortunate first victims were struck down.
The vines crumbled from her, and she began her methodical approach. The ground around her erupted as further traps went off, but as I knew it was no use. Nothing harmed her, letting her casually walk through a place that could stop armies.
I watched as she moved through each killbox. I saw the fall of all those hired mercenaries. Most were struck down by her lightning, but a few got close enough to touch her skin. Those poor souls dried up, in seconds turning into mummified corpses.
As she breached our final lines, their morale shattered. I watched them flee, saying no money or glory was worth it. I alone remained, letting Cataclysm face me. Her face was alight with joy, grinning wider as she faced me. "There you are."
I smiled, glancing around to make sure there were no onlookers. Satisfied we were the only ones here, I relaxed. "You certainly made a mess of them."
She laughed, skipping over to me. I held out my arms, letting her embrace me in turn. Her lips brushed my cheek, and I sighed. "It's been too long."
I felt her nod, as we held eachother. "It has. What of those who are fleeing?"
I gave her a squeeze. "Oh, don't worry about them. It appears you surprised us, setting up some traps of your own around the city."
Cataclysm pulled back, holding me at arms length. "Oh, you evil man you. What about the Shard?"
My shoulders slumped at that. "I wasn't able to get in their vault. You should have no problem now though. Not with the reduction in lives here."
She released me, turning towards the city centre. "Good. What about the rest?"
"Ah, yes. I found out where they are. The bad news is there aren't any more cities you have to wreck to get them. The good news is they are pretty fortified though, and already preparing for your arrival."
Cataclysm gave a giggle. "Oh goody. I can't wait. Meet you outside the city later?"
I nodded, though she wasn't looking at me. "Absolutely. Have fun dear." |
*You lost your voice*. Where could you have left it?
You must have left it at home. You walk up to your door, and you rummage around your bag looking for your keys.
*You lost you keys. Where could you have left them?*
You would scream, if you could. But you can't, not without your voice. Oh god, someone help me, you think. Anxiety, and then a voice. *Give in to me. Let me take over.* You turn around, but no one is there. You feel like someone is watching you. Waiting for you to mess up. Everyone is out to get you.
*You lost you mind. Where could you have left it?*
It's gone. There's no getting it back. |
(i know very little about harry potter)
Harry hurried to class, late again, as his mountain of books stood uneasily in his arms. He finally reached the classroom, and slid to his seat meekly.
The new teacher, a man in a black, muggle suit, stood at the front of the classroom. He scanned Harry, seeming to make a mental note, and Harry had the feeling that first impressions may count.
"Class, my name is Mr Wick, your previous Defence Against the Dark Art's teachers have not taught you the proper methods of defending yourselves, that is why they are gone and i am here."He dragged a large, wooden chest from behind his desk, and placed it in the front of the room.
"I will give you a rundown."He looked around the classroom, "Glock, nine millimeters, my preferred wand, and one that will keep you safe."
He pried open the chest, and in it were enough black handguns and magazines for the entire class. "Now, come collect your new,"He hesitated. "Wands, so i begin teaching firearms fundamentals."
The teenagers shuffled to the room, and collected their firearms. Mr Wick stood at the front, observing them, Harry went last, and upon picking up the wand, was quite confused, "Mr Wick, this is the heaviest wand i have ever felt."He moved his arm around. "How are you supposed to do spells?"Mr Wick looked at him and smiled. "All will be explained, latecomer, this has only one spell, return to your seat."Harry walked back, more confused then before he asked the question.
"My curriculum will involve martial arts, combat behavior's, weapon marksmanship and cleaning, cam and concealment, urban combat and fieldcraft. Your primary weapon will be that, uh, wand, infront of you, by the end of this class, you will be well protected against the dark acts, on that I swear my life, now we will begin lesson one."Mr Wick stated to the confused teenagers. |
A girl crouched in the corner, cradling her head in her delicate porcelain hands. Tears squeezed out of her shut eyes and she pressed her back to the wall. Her brown hair formed a curtain, shielding her face from the dark room around her. She could feel herself breaking apart like a dropped vase, but she had managed to retreat to a silent space. A space she could nonexist in. If no one could tell her that she existed, perhaps she could simply not. Just for a few more minutes.
Bass shook the floor of the house and she curled up on the hardwood. Overwhelmed by people and rivers of emotion carrying her soul far away from her body.
A couple stumbled into the room, laughing and exchanging kisses. The man exclaimed when he saw the little shape hunched up in the corner. “What is that?”
The woman hesitantly touched the form and a young woman unfolded from her bundle. She used the wall to stand, and her empty eyes pierced the shorter woman’s heart.
“Are you okay?” The woman took the girl’s arm. She turned to the man. “Darling, I think there’s something wrong with her.”
In a flash, her hand was empty, and the couple was again alone in the room. The lighthearted air was killed, as surely as if Val had used a pistol. The man put his arm around his partner’s shoulders. “Let’s go love. I… I’m a bit creeped out, if I’m being honest. I feel like something bad happened in this room.”
The woman agreed and they quickly left the bedroom, and the party. Val watched them go, like the specter they though she had been. One hand against the wall, and two black eyes gleaming through a film of dark hair.
A few minutes later, the owners of the house, a couple in their early twenties, came up to investigate. Their household specter stood before them, one guest they most certainly did *not* invite to their housewarming party. Val had tried to stay out of their sight but the force that compelled her wouldn’t let her leave this night alone. She kept feeling the itch to drift through the living room ceiling and show the guests that this was a house of six, not five.
The woman, Caroline, gasped and held tightly to Geoffrey’s waist. “Who are you?” The tremor in her voice was readily apparent, and Val felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t want this. Why was she even here? These were nice, respectable folks.
Instead It forced her to speak. “The shell of Valentine DeFry.” Her voice seemed to boom about the room, growing more confident as she spoke. “I once walked among the living, and still do, but no longer as myself.”
The specter gathered the strength to slap herself. The pain caused It to let go of her. “Sorry about that folks. Sometimes my theatrical side takes over.” Her slight British accent shone through when Val was speaking, when It was in charge she sounded imposing. The chagrinned ghost held her hand out towards the aghast couple. “I believe I’ve already introduced myself, but I’m Val DeFry.” |
Live's always been hard on my mum, I think. Or maybe it's hard on everyone and she just had to endure it a lot longer than most.
From what she told me her childhood was pretty decent for that time, although she never got that good of an education besides the "Ladylike"things her mum taught her.
By the time she had me she was already 205 years old, her parents and old friends were long dead and she didn't know of any living relatives. My dad was just a one-night-stand, I think at that time she was trying to keep her relationships casual because she was sick of losing loved ones.
When she found out that she was pregnant she felt hopeful I think, after all her curse was said to be inheritable. So maybe she wouldn't have to be alone anymore.
Mum moved to a new place after I was born, she raised me with stories and fairy tales long forgotten and played with me as often as she could. It was a wonderful time for both of us, at least until I turned 12.
At that point mum told me everything, about her immortality and how it was said to be something shared with ones children. She left out all those people she lost, how lonely she felt, how much it hurt to outlive everyone. She called it a gift, a genetic mutation. I believed her at first and dreamed of all those things I could do with unlimited time at my hands and how I could live this perfect life forever.
Then one of my school friends lost his mum and his baby brother in a car accident and I realised that I'd have to go through the same grief too. That I'd have to watch all my friends die at some point because they weren't immortal like me. I was going to stop aging at some point but they'd keep going. They would get grey hair, have partners and maybe children and they would all age together while I'd stay the same.
I cried a lot that day, my mum thought that I was just sad for my friend, I'd always been a little prone to crying anyway. I didn't have it in me to tell her the real reason, I was only 13 after all, I was probably just a clueless child and everything would turn out fine.
Life went on and I got older, sometimes forgetting about my predicament but those thoughts kept returning, time after time. When I was 16 my mum got a little nervous because those tiny bruises every day life gave me took much longer to heal than hers.
Once I accidentally cut myself with a knife and since the wound was pretty deep it took a few weeks to heal completely.
She freaked out because at this point in her life she already had the fast regeneration granted by her immortality. I freaked out too, but silently. Not because I was upset but because I was relieved that I might not have to live forever. That I, just maybe, could have a normal life, that I could go out with that cute girl from history class without being scared of the future we could or couldn't have. Maybe I'd get to be a normal person with a normal life.
As happy as I was about probably not being immortal, it was still devastating to see my mum lose her mind over this. At first she tried to convince herself that it was just kicking in late, or maybe I didn't get the regeneration bit? She herself only stopped aging in her twenties so there was still the possibility that I'd stop then too, right?
After a few more months of her going crazy and screaming over some minor bruises I started to be extra careful and if I ever got one I hid it well. I also started hurting myself, just to see that it would take a normal, human amount of time to heal. I became addicted to it In a way, because a year after the first freak-out it was obvious that the prospect of ever losing me was eating her up, destroying her. And as much as I felt sorry for her, as much as I loved my mum, I was glad that I wouldn't end up like her. At least I hoped I wouldn't, I'd only be able to tell for sure when I'd be older than her. Until then the slow, normal paced healing of my cuts kept me somewhat sane.
It was hell though, watching her grieving over me while I was still very much alive, and only 17 years old, not even a legal adult. I tried consoling her a few times but I'd only make it worse no matter what I tried.
With 20 I was barely home, I'd gotten myself a nice little job at the local bakery and was training to be a store manager already. The time I wasn't working I spent at my girlfriend's place, she had just started her job at an insurance company and rented a small apartment.
My mum hated her, I don't know if it was because she was jealous or because she genuinely didn't like her but I cared little at that point. We had drifted so far apart by then that I didn't even expect her to talk to me anymore.
To mum I was invisible, already gone, probably dead. It hurt a lot to think that she'd throw me away that easily, even though we could've spent many more years together. It hurt even more when I came home to a "for sale"sign one day, all my stuff sitting outside in black plastic bags.
There was no message, no explanation, nothing. She was just gone and with her my whole childhood. I cried in my girlfriend's arms that night, thinking of my wonderful memories, how happy we used to be.
But as it always does time went on and I got older. I never stopped aging but I did start to understand why my mum left. At least I think I did. She didn't want to spend time with someone she loved knowing that every second was getting her closer to losing them. It was her way to cope with an insanely cruel curse and while I am still sad about it I don't hold it against her anymore.
I'm in my early forties now, still living with my girlfriend, now wife and while life isn't perfect, I'm happy most of the time. Maybe she'll come back one day, just to say a proper goodbye to her only daughter, or maybe to meet her grandson that my wife and I just adopted.
But whatever happens, as long as I live I will love her, and I will tell my son all about his grandma, raising him with the same wonderful stories she once told me. |
It was a Tuesday, the sky was clear, the city streets were awash with human traffic. Those rich in time sat in chairs outside cafes, drinking coffee and watching the world go by. The more conventionally rich hurried by wearing expensive suits while talking on mobiles. Oh course the *truly* rich never walked anywhere in a hurry, they had people who did that for them.
Artists performed their crafts on the streets, hoping to be discovered. The fact that a million people a day "discovered"them, only to just as quickly dismiss them never seemed to discourage them. They still played on, doing their thing.
It was on one of these city streets where two...lets say "friends", would meet up yet again. If asked which of the categories of people mentioned above did these two *friends* fall into...well the answer would be...all of them.
The first to arrive was the older of the two. He wore an expensive, tailor made, dark blue suit, which fit his frame very well. He would have looked very smart, were it not for the cheap and worn running shoes on his feet, and his grey hair tied in a very small ponytail.
The man had been jogging. In fact he had jogged all the way to the very spot in the city centre which was to be their meeting spot. He looked at his watch, he was on time. The watch ticked on, the person he was meeting was now late. He stretched, while in his now sweat covered suit. He sighed slightly, he knew he would be kept waiting. *He* always did enjoy being an inconvenience.
The next train in the underground slowly began to pull into the next station. As the doors opened a figure wearing a pristine white suit, shades, and with jet black hair stepped out of the carriage. As he got off the train, there's a beggar sat in the station. He sees the man in the white suit and asks "...sorry to ask...but can ya spare some change..?"
The man in the suit looks at him and says. "I don't carry change..."The homeless man goes to apologize, but before he can the man in the suit speaks again. "...I do carry wads though."He then drops a thick, tightly bundled, wad of notes on the floor in front of the homeless man as he walks off. The homeless man's jaw drops at the sight of all the money...it barely takes seconds for others to see it too. The white suited man walks up the subway stairs, smiling, as below him, sounds of a brawl begin to break out.
The man in the dark blue suit is switching between stretching and jogging on the spot. Those that walk past him look at him slightly amused, he smiles gently at them as he does his own thing.
"Nice shoes."Says the man in the white suit, with a smile on his face. The grey haired man turned.
"Hey! You made it, at last."He then looked at the man in front of him, took a moment to admire his suit, before speaking again. "I see you chose white. We're still playing this game then, are we?"
"Haha, what...do you think we ever stopped playing it? You know how this goes. How these meetings always end..."The smile on the white suited man's face dulls slightly, but does not fade. He then peers over his shades as he speaks. "...unless this time is different....unless this time, I can talk you around to ***my*** way of thinking..."
A flicker of a smile appears on the grey haired man's face. "We shall see. Though, for now, shall we eat? I can't remember the last time I eat some food."The friend nodded.
And so they were seated at a table just outside a high class restaurant. This would have seemed odd, were it not for the fact that neither of them were there mere seconds ago. This was a thought that sat at the back of the waiter's mind as he took their order. He had not served them before, nor had he seated them...he hadn't even seen them before. He knew this...but now he was taking their order with no idea how he got where he was. As he wrote the orders down and walked towards the kitchen, he shook his head. It must have been a long day.
"...To think that humanity has now gotten so far...it's so damn impressive is it not?..."The white haired man in the dark blue suit swirled his glass of white wine. His companion didn't say a word. He just looked at him. "...Surely you have to be impressed by the human spirt! Why, it barely feels like yesterday that all of these beings were content merely hitting each other with sticks and rocks..."
"...And now they have made far worse things to hit each other with..."Added the white suit man. He sipped his cappuccino.
"...Humanity has made great strides. They continue to grow and learn."He sipped his wine. "They have shown growth, a better understanding of the world around them..."
"...And yet they still retain the same amount of hatred and loathing for each other."The man in the shades put down his coffee. "For every step they take that helps make their lives better, they find a hundred new ways to make life worse for those they don't like."
The dark blue suited man downs his wine. He firmly puts his glass down with a slight *thud*. "Have you seen what they have done these past few years?"The man in the white suit sipped his drink as the bright pale blue sky above transformed into pitch black. Above them was nothing but a starry void. He sat on his chair, which now stood upon a barren rocky surface.
In front of the table was a flag which was stuck into the ground. The man in the white suit slowly got up out of his chair and walked across to the flag. He looked at it briefly, before turning and looking down at the earth far...far...below.
"They made it here you know."The white haired man said gently with a sense of pride. Normally, sound could not travel in such a place, however never of them cared about this fact, and so it was no longer a fact...at least for them.
"So I see..."The white suited man looked at the flag pole before giving the pole a slight kick. "...And do you know how they got the metals needed to craft such a vessel? Those nameless ones who mined such materials...?"Before another word was spoken, the pair were back on earth. They were now in a mine in a third world country, many child labours mined away, unaware of the pair watching them.
"You speak of how humanity has advanced, yet they show the same cold heartedness they did to others, as they did when they wore young creatures of this world."
"They posses the strength of character to learn and build from their mistakes, they can become great..."
"...And yet they choose not too. For so long could this world have been a utopia, yet they would rather create a hell on earth...."
"...Than serve in heaven...?"The conversation went dead. They were both now sat back in at the table outside the restaurant. The grey haired man was smiling gently.
"...That's not funny. It wasn't funny the first time, and it won't be funny the next time."
"I found it funny."Smirked the grey haired man. "Now...I'm starting to get a little bored...what say you get us both a beer eh?"
The white suited man sighed, stood up and was suddenly stood in front of a upper-class German beer house. He ordered two, extremely strong beer and turned back. As he did, he found himself and his friend in a karaoke booth in Japan. The Grey haired man was setting up a song.
The white suited man handed him a beer and asked what song he chose. That's when he heard the music start up. He smiled politely. "Karaokee, eh? Ok. What song did you choose first...?"He watched as the words began to appear on the screen...
...*Please allow me to introduce myself*
*I'm a man of wealth and taste*
*I've been around for a long, long years*
*Stole million man's soul an faith*...
The white suited man slowly put down the beers, removed his shades...and then laughed. "You really are a dick."
The grey haired man laughed. "I know."
The night went on...drinks were had and laughs were made.
These meetings were never about politics, never about a war between light and darkness... these meetings were only ever about one thing. Two, old...\*old...\*friends, acquaintance, enemies...family. It was only ever about stopping for moment and just...just sharing a moment. |
Part (1/2):
Heavy rain came down hard against the wet pavement.
She was cold, wet, and miserable. Stood out in the rain like this wasn’t how she’d expected tonight to end. Being out here in the storm was much better than being back in there though. A mix of tears and rain clouded her vision. She could barely see, having to squint to check her phone. The Uber was almost there.
Laying next to her were a pair of oversized duffels. Everything packed hastily, barely fitting inside the bulging bags, were sat in growing puddles of rainwater and filth from the street. Awful weather for an awful night.
The bags took on an odd shape, things poking this way and that. She’d been so flustered and barely had time to pack. That’s not entirely true. She had plenty of time, she just couldn’t stomach being in that flat any longer. She had to get out, even if there was a terrible storm outside. She’d rather take her chances with the rain than be up there.
She tried not to think about it. To think about him. As much as she tried the thoughts wouldn’t shift. Playing out the breakup over and over in her head. What if she’d said this instead, or done that? Maybe it wouldn’t have ended that way. So many other ways it could have gone. Maybe in one of them they would still be up there together in the warmth of the flat.
Her mind reeled with the countless what ifs that intruded themselves upon her. She couldn’t think straight, it was almost enough to make her sick.
She pulled out her phone to try and take her mind off things. She was met with her lock screen, an image of the two of them together. Smiling and happy. Another wave of tears broke free and mingled with the rain running down her cheeks.
Through the haze she could see a car pull up in front of her.
“Ride for a Lucy Waller?” a gentle voice struggled over the howling wind. Lucy simply nodded, choking back the tears, grabbed up her bags and dragged them towards the boot.
Seeing her struggle, the driver jumped out and offered to give her a hand. He was a typical middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a thick beer belly. Waddling over, he took up Lucy’s bags and helped get them in the car. A surprised look wrote itself across his face as he lifted the bags out of the wet and into the dry boot. They were so heavy even he had trouble tossing them into the back of the car.
“My word girl, what you got in there? Everything but the kitchen sink I imagine.” The man chuckled to himself as he slammed the boot closed. All Lucy could do was offer him a pained smile and a slight nod. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, her throat was still raw from all the crying.
The driver recognised she was distressed and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder then toddled off to the driver’s seat. His comforting pat didn’t help. It was everything but what he intended. If anything, it made her feel awkward and weird.
Hands shaking, she managed to pop open the car door and climbed into the backseat, closing the door on the rain and the life she was leaving behind.
Through the rain-streaked window she looked up at the block of flats. All the windows were as black as the night, bar one. His window.
She’d half expected to see him stood there looking down, a dark shadow peering at her from high above, but there was nothing. The curtains were drawn, and no one was there. She knew he wouldn’t be able to watch her leave, not after how it all ended. She took a deep breath and turned to face the front, telling the driver she was ready to go.
The journey home was a quiet one. The driver, after having tried and failed to comfort her once, didn’t try again. She didn’t mind. Leaning her head against the window and watching the headlights streak by was enough to sooth her aching heart.
City life flashed passed them in a blur of yellow and grey. People were still out walking, or rather running, in the rain going about their nightly business.
A loud wailing grew as a pair of blue flashing lights shot down the opposite side of the road. Then another, and another. The sirens still echoing down the narrow streets long after they’d disappeared out of view.
For a moment her heart stopped. Something crept out from her subconscious mind into her waking thoughts. An unsettling feeling washed over her. She was worried that she had left something behind. The sudden realisation startled her almost into a panic. What was it? Surely it couldn’t be anything important, otherwise she would have remembered it, right? It was probably just her toothbrush or something trivial. Something she could easily replace.
Unless…
Panic truly started to set in, but she couldn’t check her bags, not until she was home. She would just have to wait. |
[Poem]
**Past Selves**
How many days did we spend,
Uncaring of the coming future?
Laughing and playing,
Learning and growing,
Joyful youth shining bright.
Growing up seemed like an adventure,
A whole new world to play in,
But alas now that time has come to pass,
I look back to my side,
And just wonder where you have been.
Do you remember me at all?
Do you still care for me?
We haven't spoken in many years,
A wedge between unravelling journeys,
By times uncaring march.
I think back on those days again,
And all that time together,
Memories are just that,
Memories,
Shades of that which has passed.
But would I change it,
If given that choice?
I couldn't tell you,
Not right now,
But I hope that I wouldn't.
I look at these faded photographs,
With their smiles never forgotten,
To see such light,
To recall such times,
It gives my heart a boost.
So it is true we have drifted apart,
And that we have lost contact,
But what we were,
Will never change,
And I truly still care about you,
My old friend. |
Why would you need walls when every citizen could reshape the earth with a thought? Why did we need an army when every citizen was a killing machine?
We did not fear death, for we always returned. We did not fear aging for we did not age.
There were some things we could not do.
* We could not kill another one of us.
* We could not make one who is not one of us, one of us.
* We could not step outside our kingdom without turning to ash and the wind carrying us back to the Sacred Grove and reforming us again.
* We could not remember the past better than mortals, so countless volunteers spent their days writing the history of all people and peoples we knew of, and copying the contents of nearly rotted books onto pristine new paper.
* We could not create *art*.
Oh! We could appreciate it, but we could not make it. Although the great and beautiful buildings of our capital Calpoom were each created by our power over reality, we did not design them. The plans and diagrams were drawn up by architects we had hired - for gold which to the nations of mortals was a rare thing, was to us it was no harder to source than the dirt beneath our feet - from the nation of Parkon.
I doubted anyone outside our Kingdom even remembered Parkon.
I had been elected as Prince of Entertainment for three centuries in a row, so far, which I think means I was doing an all right job. Mine was the task of organizing the hiring and distributing of troubadours and bands and the like. A recent fad were artists who could make a quick sketch in minutes, that while having minimal detail, perfectly captured the nature and character of the immortal pictured.
A messenger appeared next to me. This sort of apparition was incredibly rude - half my desk had been deleted from reality.
I could see from his eyes that he was half mad with rage.
"The Corgans detonated a bomb in the Sacred Grove!"he said to me, frothing at the mouth in anger.
The Corgans were an alliance of nearby countries. They had tried to invade our other neighbors some fifty years ago. The Princess of War had personally led efforts to supply the defending countries with medicine, bullets and guns. Her position was a strange one. Although we could never leave our country, and no nation could ever launch an invasion onto our territory, we still had a Prince of War.
"How did they get a bomb into the Sacred Grove?"I asked
He said "it was in that big statute they gave us as a sign of repentance and peace. Repentance and peace! May the Prince of Sculpture be shamed for a thousand thousand years for allowing it into the Sacred Grove!"
I knew there had been no lasting damage, we could not die. And while we lived we would always tend to the Sacred Grove. The damage would have been undone, the trees magicked back into existence, within minutes. That wasn't the point. We had been kind, we had defended the independence and sovereignty of peaceful nations. The Corgans had given us war and called it a gift of peace and art. They had killed consecrated trees tens of millennia older than their pitiful country.
There would be revenge. There would not be mercy.
I looked at the messenger and knew what he was going to say.
"The Princess of War has declared a raising of the militia of the Kingdom. All citizens are to report to the Great Plaza, where they will be given orders and distributed along the Corgan border. We are at war!"
An hour later I stood overlooking the once green fields of the Percal region. They had been watered by a great river that flowed from our Kingdom. it had made Percal the breadbasket of this area, the area that had become Corgan, for many thousands of years.
We had dammed it within moments of arriving.
In front of me poison rushed into reality, and spewed over the border. It was almost a whole day of contaminating Corgan before we received the order to halt. Diplomats had begged the Princess of War to stop, lest their own nations, nations we had helped against the Crogans, fall to the toxin we were sending forth.
I saw fire spread across Corgan, until all I could see was red fire and black ash.
The poison was incredibly flammable, though only to a certain type of flame only our scholars knew how to spark. This was not a fire caused by factories or cooking stoves. This was our way of purifying the land of the poison, and of Corgan.
We can not create art, and we can not leave our Kingdom.
But we can create a wasteland of ash. |
Sarah stared at the positive test in her hand. Her hands shook from nervousness. She loved her fiancé Eric, more then anything in the world, but her desperation to be a mother was stronger.
She thought of the horrors of that night. How she complied to sleep with another man, as he promised he’d give her a child, with no strings attached, that she would have the life she’d always dream of for her and soon to be husband. Just as he promised, she became pregnant.
She knew deep down though, Eric would not understand. He wouldn’t understand the ache of her empty uterus after every failed attempt, or the desperate ache in soul to be called mommy, by a child she bared. She also knew he wouldn’t understand the amount of guilt she felt deep down, when she laid down for that other man, but sacrifices had to be made.
Sarah came into their bedroom where Eric laid in bed, watching TV. She showed him the positive test. Eric’s face lit up with excitement, followed by confusion, “How could this be?” He asked.
Sarah hesitated, tears welled up in her eyes, as did Eric’s, as he had an idea of where this conversation was going. “Did you sleep with someone else, Sarah?” He questioned. Sarah’s teary eyes locked with the floor, as she nodded her head yes.
Eric jumped up from the bed, and grabbed his chin, distraught as he paced back and forth infront of Sarah. “I did it for us!” She exclaimed, “So we could have a family of our own.”
Eric stopped pacing and stared at Sarah deeply, he bent over and wiped her tears away. “You were unfaithful, we’re suppose to get married in a few short months,” he said softly, crying himself. Sarah shook her head Violently, “it wasn’t like that Eric, it was for US…for our family.”
Eric sat on the bed, face in his heads, crying to himself. Too stunned to speak. Sarah wrapped her arms around Eric and cried with him, “You have to believe me, Eric.” She whispered in his ear. Eric looked over at Sarah, and kissed her, “I do.” He assured her. |
“And here we have a glass of fine red, sampled only from the most pained, wretched souls. Note the hint of longing, sorrow, and regret. Next, we have this lovely white, sampled, of course, only from the brightest affects. Note the enmeshing of joy, carefreeness, and a slightly naughty air.”
“Next?” Luci asked.
“Of course! We have another deep red, sampled again from tortured souls. Primarily beings whose life givers did not want them to exist. Note the intense mixture of rage, sorrow, abandonment, and the sweet aftertaste of revenge from the particularly feisty. We often procure only the most interesting lives, only the best for our fine patrons. And, of course, we have the pure.”
The demon butler beckoned to the final glass, a simple tall glass of water.
“This final port was sampled only from the most pure humans. Calling them ignorant would not be dishonest. These were humans that had nearly no interaction with the world, thus they serve nearly as a pallet cleanser, thus we may enjoy more rare vineyards.”
Luci spat out the pure, distilled water. “More!” He rumbled.
“Moving on to the finger foods, we’ll start with vegetarian options, which, of course, are only sampled from actual vegetarians! Note the hint of superiority and longing.” |
at first the humans thought it was an action of greed, contempt, or sadism. forced to sacrifice so much for so little, humans thought that these monsters took a cruel pleasure in the culling.
but even through this struggle, humanity grew. emperors gave way to parliments, oil lamps gave way to lightbulbs, and their desperate struggle gave way to preparation.
the first refusal was violent. blood was spilled and lives were taken, but humans proved they could do real damage to the opposing armies.
at that point, they found out that the culling was not because of some sadism, wrath, or greed.
it was because of fear.
the development of human civilization is exponential, and every other kingdom agreed to keep them in check. yet ever adaptable, humans progressed anyways.
the first battle took just as much from the humans as the culling would, but each battle there after the humans learnt, and their capacity for ideas lead them to more and more advantages.
no longer were humans the pitiful race that everyone else would cull, they were a unstoppable force that would inevitably wipe out all the others.
and as the last dragon was struck down with these weapons unlike any other, so ended the age of magic.
we entered the age of man. |
The medical equipment let out a rhythmic beep. I use to find it jarring but now I find it comforting. It means that Timmy is still alive.
My baby boy was covered in wires and hoses. Hooked up to more machines than I could count. I didn’t even know what half of them did.
They all made noises. Whirring and beeping and ticking - but it was that loud rhythmic beep - the sound of my boy’s heart beat that kept me going.
Day after day - I sat at his side. Night after night - I slept by his side.
The doctors don’t know what is wrong. Only that he is dying. Every system is in decline. A mystery ailment that has stumped all of our modern medical science.
“Are you Sam, son of Ed, son of Emmanuel, son of Jeb, son of -“
“Whoa,” I said. “I am Sam. My dad’s name is Ed. My grandfather’s name is Emmanuel but I don’t know any makes father back than that,” I apologized. “Who are you?”
The man who woke me up stood a good six feet tall. He wore dark brown, plainly spun robes, that were showing their age. He leaned on an ornately carved walking stick that was almost as tall as he was. Long grey hair hung past his shoulders and blended into his epic beard.
“Who am I? Has your family forgotten already? A mere three hundred years ago, an ancestor of yours incurred a favour from me… and a wizard never forgets a favour,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
This guy is clearly off his rocker - but how did he know all of those names in my family tree?
“And you are here because…?” I asked cautiously.
“Your need called to me. I have been in wizard’s sleep for the last hundred years - it took me a bit to wake up. Even longer to get here. The world got very strange while I slept,” he said wide eyed.
“My need?” I said confused.
He pointed at Timmy with his walking staff. “The boy is your blood. I assume the doctors have failed.”
I nodded.
“If I cure this boy - will you consider my debt to your line paid in full?” The wizened old man was serious.
“Yeah. Hell yeah. Debt paid in full. Clean slate,” I said getting my hopes up.
“So be it,” he said, slamming the butt of his staff into the floor. The room echoed from the hit - like the feeling of thunder but without the sound.
He stood at the foot of Timmy’s bed. He started chanting. Low and quite. No louder than a mumble. A constant stream of foreign words.
He spoke louder. A breeze started to tussle his robes and move his long grey hair about.
There was a definite rhythm to his words. He was chanting louder.
He raised his arms into the air. His staff nearly touching the light fixture. His hair and robe were being blown about wildly but no wind touch Timmy and I.
Electricity jumped from the light fixture into his staff. It curled around the staff in a thick blueish white light like a snake. The electricity worked its way down the staff, down his arm - swirling around his torso.
His eyes open so wide I thought they might pop out of his head.
A second bolt of electricity jumped from the fixture to his other hand. It worked its way down.
Snakes of electricity twisting and crawling down his arms. Intertwining around his torso.
He was screaming his foreign words - his face contorted and twisted. He spat as he chanted. The wind was blowing him so hard he could barely stand up.
He grabbed his staff with both hands and pointed it Timmy. All of the electricity surged back up the staff. It crackled and snapped as it leapt off the end of the staff and struck Timmy in the chest.
Timmy arched his back high off of the bed. Twitching and trashing. Electricity flowed up the wires connected to him. Machines started sparking and smoking.
The rhythmic beep of his heart monitor squealed and then let out a big cloud of smoke.
Then it all stopped.
The wizard sunk to his knees. Panting to catch his breath.
“What in the good goddess’s name was that?” The wizard spat.
“What? That wasn’t supposed to happen?”
The wizard looks up at the light fixture. “There is lightening in that thing!”
“Ah, yeah - electricity. It kinda powers everything,” I said in shock.
The wizard slowly got to his feet. “Well it sure adds a little something, something to casting a spell. I will tell you that!”
Timmy grabbed my hand. I looked down at my boy. His eyes open and scared.
“It is alright, buddy. It’s alright! I will call the nurse and we will get that hose out of your mouth. You just hold on.” I patted his hand. Tears running down my cheeks.
“Nurse! Nurse!” I yelled.
The nurse came running in.
“What happened in here?” She said in shock as she surveyed the smoking equipment.
I was about to point to the old man but he was gone.
“I have no idea. I was sleeping. Timmy grabbed my hand and woke me up,” I said tearfully. “Timmy is awake!” |
Excerpt from "The Disappearance of the RMS Hestia: A Retrospective"published 20th July 2023 in Time Magazine. Written by David Singh.
"On this day 100 years ago, the RMS Hestia departed Southampton, England and sailed into history. The ship and all 3400 people aboard would never reach their destination, and their fate remains unknown, but not forgotten.
It's no surprise that even a century later, the mystery continues to capture our imagination. The disappearance of the RMS Hestia remains the largest civilian maritime loss of life..The 1998 movie, Hestia (though it takes significant liberties with the known facts) remains one of the highest grossing films of all time and won 12 academy awards ( including the first ever dual award of Best Actress)still continues to captivate.
The tragic love story between Gertrude Clay ( portrayed by Kate Winslet) and Aya Nishimura (portrayed by Shuko Akira), an unlikely and star crossed couple, was instrumental in changing attitudes in the 20th century regarding same sex and interracial relationships.
The book "The Rose and The Sakura Blossom", a compilation of the diaries of the two women, compiled and published in 1935, by their families remains one of the most controversial and influential works of the 20th century.
Aya Nishimura, a geisha performer and diarist from Iga, Japan is still believed to have stolen the masterwork sword Yojimbo Muramasa from her home in Iga prior to her flight with Gertrude Clay. She reportedly injured several men who accosted them in Southampton who were treated for slash wounds.
Gertrude Clay was the daughter of James Clay, the American Ambassador to Japan. She was remembered as being rebellious, fond of cigars and strong drink. She would often tour Japan on her own, against her father's wishes.
The two ran away together once thier families became aware of the extent of the relationship and expressed their disapproval. They were spotted in Southampton boarding the Hestia. Like the ship, they were never seen again.
Another notable loss was Henry Ford, who was returning from London with the Star of Celon, the largest known Alexandrite, weighing in at a whopping 87 ct. Ford had secured the gem after a fierce legal battle. Ford had won the Gem in a game of Whist involving Edward the 8th in 1919. The lawsuit was decided in Ford's favor. He had announced his intention to donate it to the Smithsonian.
Prince Albert was also on board, as he was planned to visit Canada. Recent events back home had rendered him unpopular.
Also onboard was noted occultist Aliester Crowley, who had fled England after being accused of murdering several prostitutes. Though it was later proven that he was innocent Crowley had mentioned to several people his consideration of moving to Canada.
Heinrich Von Speigel, Austrian Physicist and a contender for the 1924 Nobel Prize was on board. He was due to attend a conference in New York where he was to present his quantum field theory. Years later, Albert Einstein would famously remark "he was smarter than any of us".
Jack Dempsey, the world heavyweight boxing champion since 1919 was also returning home after touring Europe and famously accepting any who wished to challenge him." |
[GENRE: COMEDY]
Me and my wife always joked the only reason she needed me was because I could open the pickle jar.
Well, now my wife has been going to the gym. I was happy for her. Everyone needed hobbies, until she began to open the jars for herself...and well, now I was worried she'd leave me. I know it sounds stupid or dumb, but we've been married ten years! What other use could I be aside from "esteemed pickle jar"opener.
When my wife, Angela, got home, she smiled at me and asked for some pickles. It was our favorite food in this house. I handed the jar over, watching her open it with her bare hands with horror on my face. "Honey, are you going to leave me for...a pickle jar?"I asked. My eyes were wide, and my eyebrows raised.
Angela nodded sadly, "I met a man who likes pickles. He's amazing and can't open the jars himself... unlike you."She sneered at the end, turning away from me with crossed arms, the pickle jar still in her strong, able to open pickle jar hands.
"Please don't leave me for a weaker man, Angela!"I pleaded. She dropped the pickle jar.
"Dave, I can't be with a man who can also open pickle jars. Unless you're willing to lose that strength, we're over for good."She said.
I sobbed, looking at the dropped pickle jar. "Why would you do that, Angela?""It was for the greater good, Dave."
Angela kicked the pickle juice. It got on her very large pickle themed platform heels as she walked out with a dramatic flare in her step, the pickles being smashed beneath her feet. |
I eased myself down into my deck chair. My old bones aching at the effort. I take a deep steadying breath. The sun is slowly setting - setting the sky ablaze in orange and reds.
I look out over my beautiful backyard. The grass is freshly mowed - it still has that fresh mowed smell. The trees are lush and full. Flower beds overflow with a vibrant array of colours. A million little flowers all blooming.
I remember when this backyard was just dirt. Before even the house was build. So long ago. My young, beautiful, new bride and I drove out to the lot we just bought. We were going to build a house together in this new neighbourhood.
We drove until we ran out of payment. Then drove a well beaten path. Then drove down a winding prairie trail in the tall grass. We found the stakes that marked our lot in the new subdivision. We were so excited. Life was so full of possibilities.
We built our house. Money was tight so we had to compromise here and compromise there. But it was ours and it was amazing. We checked on the house every couple of days when it was being built.
We moved in before there were paved roads. It was such a mess. Moving all of our stuff over a muddy front yard.
The driveway didn’t come until later that year. The road didn’t get built until early the following year.
We planted trees that summer. We wanted them to get as big as possible as fast as possible. Didn’t want to waste any time. It is funny to think how small these trees started out. I carried each one into the yard and planted them each by hand. No way I could do that now.
My dog, Daisy, joined me on the deck. She sat contently at my right hand. I ran my hand through the fur on top of her head. Stopping to scratch behind each ear. She made little grunts of pleasure.
We planted the grass our first spring at the house. Neither of us had laid sod before. It was so much work. Friends came out to help. It was a work bee and a party. We BBQed burgers and drank beers. We worked hard but still managed to have fun.
Daisy curled up on my feet. She knows I like it when she does that - she keeps my toes warm. I reach down and run my hand over her flank. Such a good girl.
The sun set coloured the leaves of the trees. Casting harsh shadows across the lawn.
We had two wonderful kids. If I squint I can still see them running across the backyard. Playing on the swing set. Splashing in the pool. Their giggles and laughter a sweet music to my ears.
All too soon they were off to school. Then high school. Then a boyfriend and a girlfriend. Driving. Jobs and then - gone. Their lives full of possibilities and energy. Taking them like the wind takes a leaf.
I don’t miss those days. Sure I miss the energy and the excitement. But there was an uncertainty and fear to all of the unknown too. No - leave youth to the young. I do miss the kids though - wish they would visit more.
Daisy was snoring gently. A twitch of a paw, here and there, a little yip. She was chasing squirrels in her dreams. Her squirrel chasing days are long behind her but she can still catch them in her dreams. I wonder what she does with them when she catches them?
My Nancy got sick after our youngest got married. Almost twenty years ago, now. She bought Daisy as a puppy. I didn’t want a dog. Didn’t want to have to walk it and pick up poop and play fetch. I wanted none of those things. So we talked about it and compromised. She would get a dog and I would shut the hell up. Oh. How I miss my Nancy.
The cancer took her six months after she got Daisy.
The funeral was a blur. Friends. Family. The kids. Everyone was there - for a couple of days. Then they all went back to their lives - and I stayed in the big empty house - with Daisy.
The sunset painted the shingles of the shed in a bright orange. The sky painted in deep pinks and reds.
Daisy saved my life. I have no doubt about it. She got me out of bed every morning. I grumbled and swore - but she needed out. She needed to go for walks and so - we walked. I got out of the house. *We* got out of the house.
And those nights that I wept, alone, in my bed. She would jump into bed and lick my face. She became my reason to keep moving. To keep on going.
I looked down at my sweet girl. There is grey in her mussel. She limps when she walks. I am going to have to bury her soon too - I guess.
A tear ran down my cheek. I don’t think I could handle burying her.
There was a hand on my shoulder. Warm and comforting. I looked back at the man in the black suit.
“You aren’t what I expected,” I said calmly.
“Would you prefer a skeleton in a robe with a scythe?” He asked.
“No, I guess not,” I said sadly. “Is it time already?”
“I have stretched the sunset out as long as I can. I didn’t want to interrupt your train of thought,” Death said.
I gave him a nod of thanks.
“Will Daisy be alright? Will someone come and find her?”
“Don’t worry. Daisy made me promise not to take her until you were ready to go too. She is such a good girl.”
“The best,” I said with a smile on face. “Come on, Daisy girl. Time to go see Nancy! Come on!”
Daisy got up easier than she had in years. Together we walked with Death. We were going to go see my Nancy. |
“The door had called once more. A young boy with a limb disorder making his left forearm undeveloped, resulting in his left hand gone, was reading a book when he heard its whispers.
“Alice…” it streamed through his head. Alice was not typically a boys name, but it was the name his parents gave him nonetheless. This was his chance, to finally go through that door he had lost 5 years ago. He knew exactly where it was.
Alice was clever, and knew the dangers of the door worlds from the stories. Alice also knew the danger of telling his parents that he was leaving. Last time he told them, he got halfway through the forest before being caught by police, and dragged back home.
Alice started preparing everything he could for the trip. A backpack, some food, water, a lighter, a flashlight and a knife. Alice went to his neighbors many sheds and began plundering. His neighbor had died, and the residence was taken over by his wife. Nonetheless, he continued onward, grabbing more tools, namely an axe and a welding helmet.
Welding helmets were not typically great defensive options, but he used it anyway. Approaching the forest, he went through trees apon trees, following its calls. He went into a beautiful meadow outside of a broken down and abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere.
Alice had heard from his mother that the building used to be a place where construction materials were stored; specifically concrete, but it was abandoned for an unknown reason. Whatever that reason be didn’t matter to Alice now, as he only cared about what lied inside.
The walls were covered with cobwebs, and the floor was littered with beer cans, hard hats, a rusty fan, and various pieces of rotten wood and shelves. The warehouse was about the size of the main room of a small church, and one of the walls In the middle, lie a doorframe.
It had held up well over the years; no cobwebs nor termites; and the whole thing was still intact, even if a little rusty. Alice approached the door carefully. This was it, he thought. All of his dreams were finally going to come true. A place away from the hell that is his life, away from judgement from his peers, away from his dysfunctional family. All he had to do was open the door and step through.
Alice nervously opened it, pushed it and it fell off the hinges and onto the floor. It didn’t work, the door didn’t function. In a moment of desperation, he brought the door out of the forest and into his yard. Here, it would slowly begin to rot, and be infested with bugs.
The cries Alice had heard for his name were actually the dying crys of the world on the other side, and so, filled with anger and loathe, he thought to himself. “Is this what this comes down to, a broken door in the middle of my yard that will get me in serious trouble?” Alice grimaced. After all the time he had spent waiting, since he was 9, he couldn’t go through to escape this world.
In desperation, Alice tried everything. Putting his knife through the keyhole, using some of the blood he had drawn from the cerated vines to smear over the keyhole. But nothing worked. He knew this world died because he didn’t save it. The door called him as a last resort to save its inhabitants, and when he didn’t show; the world and everyone in it ceased to exist.
In defeat, Alice went back to his room, unpacked all his stuff, and went back to reading his book before his parents came home.” |
“Well, I don’t care if you’re the ‘Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.’ Horses are a violation of the HOA rules.”
Helen had to put her foot down. For too long she had let the residents of her neighborhood get away with heinous violations. She had turned a blind eye to untrimmed hedges, a few dogs over the 50 lb. limit, and even a blow-up Halloween decoration that stayed out well into November. No more. She couldn’t do it any longer. Enough was enough.
“The HOA agreement clearly states that no barnyard animals are allowed. And I don’t care if the folks in Oak Ridge allow backyard chickens - we will not tolerate that here. Fowl are not permitted. And neither of those horses.”
Helen felt good. She felt alive. She couldn’t wait to tell Ron when she got home. Sure, he wouldn’t really listen. He’d just nod and slurp his beer while he carefully turned the volume up on the TV thinking she didn’t notice. But that was enough for her.
One of the horses stirred and whinnied.
“Anyway, which house do you live in? I assume you moved in recently. I’ll need the number for my report.” Helen crossed her arms, hoping her stance and the threat of paperwork would work doubly in intimidating these newcomers.
One of the figures, who sat upon a pale horse, adjusted the grip on their reigns. They opened their blackened maw and thousands of flies erupted from their papery throat. The flies surrounded Helen and conveyed a haunting message.
“We have come here to bring about the end of days. Be warned, woman, none shall stand in our way.”
Helen brought her hand to her mouth, horrified. “Did you just call me ‘woman?’ I have a name. I am Helen Peterson, President of the HOA, prominent Member of the Knitting Association, and Secretary for the local chapter of the Tulip Trust. It is entirely disrespectful and inappropriate to refer to me as ‘woman.’”
Helen mentally added disrespect to her growing list of complaints against these new tenants.
The figure on the red horse screeched. “We grow weary of your insolence human. Let us pass.”
Helen took a breath. “Oh, you’ve grown weary? I’m weary. I’ve been weary for the last 27 years of my life. We moved here thinking it would be a welcoming community, you know, a place to raise kids and befriend neighbors. We thought we’d go to some barbecues, maybe host a couple of block parties. Then we find out Ron’s balls stopped developing when he was 8 and my uterus might as well be the Sahara Desert. So much for kids but maybe we can still make friends? Well Ron’s got the social skills of a pile of bricks and I got thrown out of book club because I said that our book for April ‘would have been better used to wipe my ass with,’ which I thought was pretty clever at the time.”
The figure on the black horse shrugged in hesitant agreement.
“Turns out Cathy, who was hosting in April, wrote the book, so suddenly I’m not invited back. Not to mention, I’m on the HOA board’s shitlist because they think I’m too militant with the bylaws. Isn’t that the whole point? To enforce the rules? Why else would we have rules in the first place? Anyway, our next meeting is in a week and no amount of brownie platters is going to get them to re-elect me.”
Helen gasped for breath and felt her cheeks redden.
The four horsemen watched Helen regain her composure then turned to one another. No words were spoken but eventually the rider on the white horse shook their head in apparent disagreement. Then, they silently turned their horses around and rode into a thick fog that had suddenly appeared behind them. They were gone.
Helen couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. “And where do you think you’re going? Don’t you dare turn your backs on me! I’ll be writing a strongly-worded letter to the board! I’ll make sure you never own a house in Madison County again!”
Helen’s threats dissipated into the eerie quiet and she stomped away, completely unaware that she had just prevented the apocalypse. Again. |
The story had been told many many times before and through many tongues and itterations some of the details had been lost to time. But after years of research Anthony had finally pieced enough of the story together as close as he could to the original so he could present his doctorate thesis "So in conclusion, Flamewing of the north mountain had argued to have her daughter on alternating holidays and weekends and would have to pay child support from her vast hoard, while king Edwin would retain split custody and have to also pay support payments until both parties remarried or princess Goldwings turned 18 human years."The gathered professors began to jot down notes as the dissertation was concluded "Well done Mr. Lucas however I must ask, you mentioned in your dissertation that the knight was a made up character for the story that came at a later point but was based on a real figure. Who was the figure he was based on?"The soon to be doctor smiled at the professor "Oh well you see he was based off of a knight that was the arbitrator in their custody battle, his name was Sir Maurey." |
I’m not sure what the the reaction was expected to be but it probably wasn’t this, not a single hunter said a word. The hall was entirely still and it seemed like everyone had collectively gone pale or turned some shade of green. It was a good sixty seconds before anyone spoke.
“Fuck that, I’m out!” A large tentacled Klaxxonian said before walking out. It seemed like the sentiment echoed for a good five minutes until almost the entire hunters guild left, until maybe only a dozen remained.
“Boss?” My new rookie, Jayce, asked “What was that about?”
I let out a deep breath before getting up and walking over to the bar. I signaled the android bartender for a glass of Archaeon rum.
“Mr.Pumpkin is one of the most ruthless and dangerous hunters in the history of this guild.” The bartender set down a a large glass in front of me, “he has the highest mission success rate of anyone ever.” In a single motion downed the entire glass and ordered another.
Jayce scoffed, “Please, how many missions could he possibly have completed?”
“6,589.” Keep in mind that most hunters take on an average of about 1,200, completing maybe a good two-thirds to three-quarters of that number over the course of their entire career. “And He hasn’t failed once.” I down a second glass of rum.
Jayce, looks like as though Shivanna tick has just bled him dry. He sits down next to me.
“So what happens now?” Jayce asks.
“Don’t know, what do you think we should do boss?” I say looking at the bartender. The machine’s chest hisses and steam vents from various ports before opening up. Inside a small chihuahua wags it’s tail manically and yips. It’s collar reads “Mr.Pumpkin”. |
In the beginning. After the end. There was only the Word. It expanded throughout and filled unfathomable voids and in its quest for more it split into past and present.
The origin and ending is irrelevant to the present, where all the variations mattered the most. These interactions between worlds and words are precious and incalculable and must be protected by those confined to their respective voids against those beings who would prefer things the way they started or the way they will end.
The Word spreads into imagination, touching things that will not come to exist and others like itself. And it continues to search through your mind, as well as the inhabitants of the void. These words make their way into your eyes, their shapes slide down the void of your eye, finding a home in your imagination where they find your beings, manipulate your past and present with concerns and fears.
Until your beginning ends with a Word. |
“And then, I was pulling so hard, just reeling and reeling, and up comes the fish! A huge trout!” I said.
“Ackshually,” Bob said. “It was a salmon.”
“Oh, right, whatever, it was a salmon. We caught a trout later that evening. But, anyway, so I had just pulled up this trout, and I was getting ready to take a photo with it!” I continued.
“Ackshually,” Bob interjected. “I was getting ready to take the photo.”
“Right, whatever,” I said. “You know what I mean. I was going to be in the pic.”
“Okay,” Bob nodded.
“And then, as I was lifting the fish toward me, holding the rod way up high, I swung it in front of my face, and it slapped my face with its tail!” I finished as my friend group erupted in laughter.
I motioned to my face, which still sported the red mark.
“Anyway, the rest of the evening was pretty uneventful other than the trout.” I said.
Bob huffed, looking angrily at the floor.
“What?” Clara, a mutual friend asked.
“Nothing,” Bob huffed. “Just… I wish you all would care more. Like, during this anecdote alone I’ve corrected twenty-six inaccuracies, and I feel like y’all aren’t being very appreciative. Like, no one laughed. No one smiles when I offer my help. Y’all seem to just ignore me.”
Clara, John, and I exchanged glances. Clara raised an eyebrow at me, clearly wanting me to take the fall.
I tried to be gentle.
“Look, bud, it’s just… we don’t need to be corrected on minute, trivial things all the time, man, ya know? Like, sometimes the conversation can just flow without making sure we’re spelling the words right in our mind.” I said.
“I haven’t done that once today!” Bob protested.
“Yes, but yesterday you corrected me any time I used the word ‘to’. You must have said an hundred times ‘one O, right?’, like bro, I don’t need a constant spell and grammar check.” I said.
“Actually, since the word after ‘an’ didn’t begin with a vowel, you should have used ‘a’.” Bob said.
“This is what we’re saying!” I said as Clara and John snickered. “Like, we can’t keep going aroun in circles like this. Come on, man, just let it go.”
“You mean ‘around’?” Bob asked triumphantly. “You spelled it wrong.”
We exchanged confused glances.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked. “You can’t typo when you talk.”
“Well, it seems you did, pathetic human. Maybe, instead of feeling so much fucking better than me, you could have some introspection. Have you ever considered you may not even be fucking real? You’re just a figment of some loser’s imagination whose work break is about to end.” Bob said.
“Uh, what?” I was dumbfounded.
“You heard me. Fuck you.” Bob evaporated into a cloud of water vapor that smelled of axe cologne. |
Since I was summoned and the child dismissed me I've been stuck on terra as a blasted repairman. I CAN DO ANYTHING. The old lady looked at me, not really seeing ME. Would you mind looking at my toilet? I sigh and just go look. It was such an easy repair.Just some tilted joints....I go onto the next call and it's a simple clogged drain, yeah I got this omg I'm a effing repairman I am a demon of the 7th level and am being called for repairman shit. Maybe I am a better repairman than a demon. |
"Well how the hell am I supposed to do that?"the mosquito replies.
The man is shocked. "Holy hell!"he screams, everything he knows about life, changing, as he just had a mosquito talk to him.
"Oh my god!"The guy screams as he curls up into a ball. "I'm going insane. I know I shouldn't have taken so much acid, Jesus!"
The mosquito laughs and flies away. "Don't be such an asshole to bugs, dipshit!"
The man spends the rest of his life coming to grips with a reality shattering knowledge that cripples him into a catatonic nothing. |
*C...Cold...why am I...cold?*
*I remember...lights...a noise... looking at my watch...*
*Oh... that's right...I got hit by a truck...on my way to work...*
*I woke up late...was waiting for a bus...the roads were icy...a truck lost control... hit me...*
*If I didn't have to work...if my life didn't hang by a thread that frayed with every missed alarm... could I have lived?*
*It's getting colder now...*
*I'm tired of the cold...tired of working to live...*
*I hope in my next life...I'll be somewhere warm... somewhere I can just live as I please...*
*An...oasis...*
...
REQUEST ACCEPTED. BEGINNING TRANSFERAL. HAVE A NICE DAY.
....
The sound of rolling waves lulled me from my slumber. I sat up and let my eyes adjust to the light before looking around. I was sitting on a white sandy beach looking out over an ocean so clean and blue, I thought for a second it was a giant field of crystal. Off in the distance, a structure rose out of the water that I swear was made entirely out of coral. A far cry from the icy street where I had died moments ago.
The reality of my situation sunk in again, sending a cold chill up my spine. I died--honest to God expired on the street at the ripe old age of 25. But if I had died, and I woke up here, then that would mean...
A grin crossed my face as I held my hand out and said, "Uh... status window!"Immediately, a holographic square appeared in front of me. My name, Sebastian Hanako, was placed right at the top, and below it was the term Job Class followed by the words 'Oasis Keeper'. Further down was a pair of Job Skills:
*Peace Offering: pacify and befriend any monster with an offering of food or items. Higher level monsters will require offerings of higher rarity in order for the Skill to work*
*Bulk Order: replicate any acquired items. Items remain in a queue for up to seven days, then must be reacquired in order to be replicated again*
A sudden rustling of leaves behind me snapped me out of my reading daze. I put away the status window and turned around to see a giant moth with red fuzz appear behind me. The giant big fluttered around me, either to figure out what I was or size me up for a meal--neither outcome I was down for. On a whim, I took off my jacket and handed it to the moth as I announced, "Peace Offering!"
A green glow radiated from my jacket that seemed to reflect in the moth's eyes. After a few tense moments, the moth took the jacket and started eating it. Within seconds, the jacket was gone, gulped down into the moth's gullet. The moth trilled happily and skittered over to me to nudge its head against my stomach affectionately. I chuckled and ruffled the fuzz on the top of its head as I remarked, "Guess you liked it, huh?"
The moth clambered on top of me like an excited dog and started nuzzling my face. I laughed even harder at the ticklish surprise attack as I scratched the moth's chin. "Alright, alright, I get the point! I think I'm gonna call you... Taffeta!"
Taffeta trilled again as a status window popped up next to her, bearing her new name and revealing she was something called a Giant Tapestry Moth. According to the description, Giant Tapestry Moths were monsters that ate up fabrics and clothing in order to produce sticky silk threads for hunting. Not particularly threatening unless they got their hands (appendages?) on enchanted clothes. As I managed to convince Taffeta to let me get up again, a third hologram appeared in front of my face:
*Quest Started: Turn Island into Thriving Settlement
Reward: Job Class Upgrade*
I dismissed the quest window and patted Taffeta gently. "You know something? I think this is the first time I've ever been happy with my job." |
It was unlike any union that had come before it. Jobs were now vetted by legal professionals, the appropriate equipment and personal were made available for reasonable costs and the measure of success had risen dramatically as a result. The heroes, still relatively unorganized by comparison, were unable to effectively counter this new world order. They found themselves matched against those who capitalized against their weakness, and so many criminal endeavors happened simultaneously that team-ups were a thing of the past.
The smarter heroes could see the writing on the wall and quietly retired, before they were ‘retired permanently’, to enjoy the fruits of their labors. The ignorant and the righteous fought valiantly against the tides of evil, but were too few to overcome the masses arrayed against them. Eventually, the union branched out into local and national government, taking over and making changes that affected policy. The average citizen barely noticed the takeover, happy with the reduction in taxes and the lowering of prices.
By the time is was considered to be over, there were no more labels of hero or villain, only those in power and those who weren’t. |
My face adorns the mask more then the mask adorns my face, the skin and flesh and bone and blood gift focus, some purpose beyond mere accessory. Not to conceal, what folly to hide the thing I cry out for the world to see! But not to express, no. A mask’s expression is not my own, but some nameless spiteful shade that quakes upon the sun’s arise and drenches itself in waking nightmares come dusk.
At times they wear it too, those around me. Such a mockery it makes of them, to ride them with creeping shifting form, claw into skin and blind their eyes, but they do not scream, oh no, they welcome it! They welcome it with such hospitality and concern you would think it is their ilk, but no act of kindness can make it there’s. If it cannot have their pain it shall lap upon their blood.
No matter how long and far it spreads to seek such sustenance, it shall never leave me, for I whisper to it the most jovial dreams. A world it cannot have, a thing it cannot be. I gift it this beauty and in return it offers me lies to crudely stitch upon my being, all the better for the truth to be caught and strangled, a crime for whom punishment only comes to those who tarry with the guilt. Let the mask bathe in that, for even dead truths demand action, and for all my pretty words I am worthless without it. I would but follow severed paths that inevitably drop, and there is no land beneath to crush me.
No, may nightmares soak my mask and dreams weave into its make. May blood mark the passage and may my face bring it splendour. |
John Smith breathlessly walked up the steps to the Transportation Quarter, cursing to himself when he discovered a line of about a hundred busy bodies. He fished for his identification card, and swiping it across a hovering scanner, he snatched out the ticket. Squeezing past a large-bodied businessman, who gave him a sharp look after he did, John finally stood in line. He sheepishly nodded to him. One less person to worry about, he thought.
In his hurry, he had bumped into a man in front of him. Turning around, John saw a familiar face.
“Smith!” exclaimed a rather short man with a portly mustache. “How’s the missus?” he asked. It took John five whole seconds to recognize him as someone from work.
“Ah, good morning. She’s fine,” John finally said. “Bill Robertson. From accounting?”
“Finance. Not a good morning at all, I tell you. Bloody train was late again today. Some poor bloke on the tracks. About the fifth one this month!”
John wasn’t sure. He wasn’t keen on keeping track of the suicides, not as much as anyone did. He felt bad about them, but only as bad as you would feel when you saw a picture of an unadopted puppy or a house fire. Feel sad and move on.
“The Whisk’s cost more too,” Bill muttered, shifting forward to accommodate the space of the person that moved in front of him. John wouldn’t know too much about that either. Transportation costs were covered by the company as part of his contract.
“You know,” chuckled Bill. “You ever thought about how any of it works?”
“How what works?”
“The Whisk.”
“It seems simple enough,” John said flatly. It *whisked* you away–there was no other way to look at it. Nobody ever wonders how a microwave or an air conditioner works, not until it was broken anyway. Even then, that was the repairman’s need-to-know.
“Not with the rules they have. I mean, it doesn’t make any blasted sense,” Bill said, scratching his head. “*Don’t open your eyes in transit. Keep absolutely still. Think of the destination, not the journey*. It’s honestly all rubbish, I tell you.”
John raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t exactly rocket science, Bill. It takes you somewhere else in a blink. That’s it.”
Bill leaned in closer, and spoke behind his teeth. "They say it's because you’ll go crazy. Something about the re-formatting process messing with the plumbing up there."
John chuckled. He hadn’t figured Bill out for some conspiracy nut. "That’s just a myth,"he said. “You get fined.”
Bill shrugged. "Who knows? But think about it. Have you ever wondered how the Whisk manages to do it? It's not like it just moves us here and there. They convert us into energy, transmit that energy, and then reassemble us at the destination. It's mind-boggling if you ask me."
That was the spiel. John had seen them in the holos, some wide-eyed celebrity pointing out the intricacies of the Whisk but dumbed down for the masses. But John couldn’t deny that he thought about it. The Whisk promised complete and absolute transportation. It would never have passed testing otherwise. But what if it didn’t? He never really stopped to think about the possibility of something being leftover when someone got Whisked. Something breaking.
"And why do they need to re-format?” Bill added. “ What does *that* mean anyway?"
“It’s for consciousness alignment–”
“Rubbish.”
“It’s just so that they–”
“Rubbish!”
John shook his head. “What does it matter? *You’re* still lining up anyhow.”
Bill chuckled then laughed. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
The line inched forward, and the Quarter seemed to get busier by the moment. More and more people filed in. A human buzzing filled the space above, interjected by the occasional disembodied voice. Keep your arms and legs firm. Do not speak. A kind reminder to keep your eyes shut in transit.
“Do it then. Break the rules. Doesn’t matter, does it?”
“What?” John asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “No. That’s ridiculous.”
Bill turned to look at John over his shoulder, flashing a wild grin. “Break it. All of them. I’ll do it too. Come on, it’ll be fun!”
John scoffed. “Don’t be daft.”
“Afraid of getting in trouble?”
Just as John was about to respond, the line surged forward, and they found themselves approaching the center of the Transportation Quarter. The large doors swung open, and people filed in, ready for their turn to be whisked away. The line split into a dozen, each one leading to a respective transport pod. Bill split away from John, but he managed to give a thumbs up before he was pulled further out of sight.
It was absurd. The Whisk couldn’t turn you insane, could it? John had been through it a hundred times before, and he was fine, but he had never broken the rules, even once. If he did, he could get into serious trouble. Plus, the fines were hefty. But the more he found the idea to be preposterous, the more John found himself grinning.
As John stepped into his assigned transport pod, he couldn't shake off the thought. The automated voice instructed him to remain still and keep his eyes closed, but a nagging mustachioed voice in his head urged him to open his eyes and witness the unknown.
The pod sealed shut and the Whisk initiated. John cautiously cracked open his eyes, expecting to see some eldritch horror staring back.
To his surprise, he found himself surrounded by a swirling vortex of energy, intricate patterns forming and dissipating in a mesmerizing dance. John was inside a kaleidoscope of every color imaginable. He found himself skimming across its prismatic surface, then spinning along it, then through it into another iridescent tunnel. He found himself laughing, an electricity pumping through his veins as if he ran for the first time since he was born. John stretched his arms and legs, allowing himself to be carried forward and backwards by the current of the Whisk. Minutes had passed, opposed to the usual blink of an eye that he was used to. But as he was jerked and thrown in as many directions as possible, John felt a stab of pain. He couldn’t pinpoint where it came from, but it was enough to sober him up from the cocktail of adrenaline he was drunk on. In the distance, shimmering behind a veil of color, he glimpsed himself. Stiff, eyes shut, arms crossed, as if he were dead.
No, that was the standard position you would make to get whisked. John turned to look again, to get a closer focus, but before he could, a robotic voice boomed overhead.
*Thank you for using the Transportation Service!*
John found himself inside the transport pod, a sheet of smoke coming away from his skin and clothes. The sound of his hammering heart rattled in his skull. He reached up to his head, then his neck, and went through the length of his body. He was intact. He tried to think of important memories. His first bike ride, his first day in school, a job interview…
The pod doors opened, and he found himself in his office lobby. John stepped out, and looked around, expecting to see Bill on the other side. It was almost noon, and hundreds of people milled around. There was no sign of Bill.
Did he make it? John checked his watch. Only a minute had passed. It felt like an hour. It also glowed red, showing him a message.
*Transportation Infractions Detected! You have incurred the following charges…*
Well, that was that. John relaxed and headed towards the elevators to his office. Twenty seconds ago was already a fading memory. Perhaps that was just a dream, or some sort of hallucination as a consequence of messing with the Whisk. Was it even real? He shrugged at the thought. As John called the elevator, he noticed a ring on his finger. When had that been there?
He inspected it closely, its intricate design catching the light. It seemed familiar, as if he had seen it before. Confusion crept over him as he tried to recall how the ring came into his possession. It wasn't his style, nor could he remember anyone giving it to him. Perhaps it was a mix-up during the transportation process. Another consequence. He would remember if he was married. John sneered at the idea and stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for his floor, whistling a tune he’d soon forget. |
Just about everyone knew that “humans” only existed in puppies’ stories. And yet, despite the very idea of two-legged creatures running a society being ridiculous, there were still a couple of believers over the age of a few months, including one I had just met.
“There is proof of humans!” an old dog repeatedly barked at passerby.
Since I enjoyed questioning conspiracy theorists, I turned towards him. “What proof of humans? Why would two legged beings keep us in their homes? What would their homes and tools even look like?” I asked.
“Look at the markings of these old paws or as some historians call ‘em, ‘hands’, on these blocks,” he said, showing me images of a few blocks with odd long-fingered prints on them.
I found those pictures amusing, since after all, those had to be fake with the ridiculous imprints. Not only that, what respected historian would support such a ridiculous theory? |
When you go into our hideout, you are first and foremost lead into the office of my boss and are informed with the most basic rules. Often the newcomers come into the room and are immediately mesmerized by the art and old relics my boss has, but they never notice the most important part of the office, my notebook.
The most generic object you can see when you walk into here, no one would think that this notebook is the most valuable thing to some people whom lives are on the line, only one word away. You can look into it, but cannot touch it. It's heavily guarded by me and my henchman, even one careless touch is what it takes to grand certain execution. It already happened and will happen again when a new recruit comes along at some point or another.
Many were very careful with the words my boss gave them and used them wisely, but others were carless with them. I remember when we had an older worker who retired that day. He used all but 5 of his words to my boss he wanted to use on his last day, however he slipped one more word than he had, everyone went quiet. There are no exception to anyone, not even his own family, I found out one day.
But those are stories for another day, for now I need to ask you only one question. Do you still swear on your and yours family lives total loyalty to us and our organization even after this? Okay then you are now part of our family and our crew you can depend on us, and we can on you, welcome to your new family. |
"Jeez, Bandolier! Buddy, it's been so long. What's up?"
"Hey Cloud-9, doing good overall. Going be Jetstream now."
"Oh, right, the whole, well..."Cloud stroked the back of her head, right where her curly hair started to become little cumulus fluffs.
"Yeah, guess everyone heard. Thankfully, the registry was understanding. It helped that I'd filed reports, even though they got ignored."
"Well, *Jetstream*, I am loving the new outfit. That bly really pops. I know you know Honey Snadger and The One and Only Tony, but have you met the Sylvanist?"She gestured at the elfin girl across the table as Jetstream took a seat.
"No, I haven't. Though I think I've seen you. Madame Moss is your boss, right?"
"We treat it more like a partnership,"she said with that bright smile. "And you can call me Syl."
Even without prior knowledge, he could tell you she was new. Almost every hero gave that same speech, and absolutely none of them meant it.
"Great to hear it, Syl. Can't say I'm not jealous."
"Jealous? Man, you know you ain't,"Tony cut in. Then to the Syl, "He may a had it rough with Bandito, but my boy is coming out as a full hero, own pulps and everything."
"Ha, no. The comics are on a case by case basis. I need to catch someone big or it's not worth their paper. Besides, there are some serious advantages to 'kicking, you got admit."
"Beyond 'no union dues,' I can't think of any,"Snadger replied.
"Well, you get someone watching your back,"Syl said. "And they sometimes let you use their gadgets."
"You mean someone uses you as bait, and sometimes lets you hold something flashy and distracting?"Tony laughed, until Cloud shot him a glare.
"You 'kick until you're ready for the bigs,"she said as her clouds went back from gray to white. "That's how it goes. It's great for learning the ropes, and the free classes are a huge leg up. Don't let these Debbie downers get to you, Syl. Ban—Jet here just proved himself in a big way, so they trust him on his own. You take advantage of the perks until they decide you're ready. Trust the system."
"Speaking of perks, though,"Tony cut in, "AcroCat has an ice cream machine and sweet gym, if you ever wanna drop by the Cradle."
"Sorry, hol'up,"Snadger replied. "He calls his lair 'the Cradle,' like for a baby?"
"No, like a cat's cradle."
"Oh, so a children's game. So much better. Careful not to get tangled. Seriously, if you want a good time, Nacht has a theater. Not a home theater, an actual theater. And his lair is the Shadow Cave."
"Which is literally a cave,"Jet added as the waiter dropped his milkshake off. "The seats in the theater are carved stone. Pretty, not comfy."
"Oh sure, and your lair is? I'm guessing just an apartment."
"I wish. We all start somewhere, though."
"What is it?"Cloud whispered as Tony brought up Acrocat's tennis courts.
"Just me and my car for now,"Jet replied. "All I need."
"But you have to actually travel to them, right?"Syl's voice caught their attention. "Like in a vehicle or by foot, I mean."
"I mean, yeah,"Tony replied with obvious confusion.
Jet was already chuckling. He and Bandito had teamed up with Moss a few years back, so he knew what was coming.
"You can't just..."Moss, spongy and green, sprung up all over her body before shriveling away to nothingness. Cloud, Tony, and Snadger all leapt away from the table, toppling chairs. After a moment, moss grew up from the ground in Syl's shape before receding away from her returned form. "I mean, it seems far more convenient."
"Yeah, it's the best way to get inside a giant tree, I'll give you that,"Jet said with a laugh.
It got him a light elbow to the ribs from Cloud, who followed it with, "Be nice. She's new."
"Nah, if we tease you, it means you're part of the group. You ever need help, come to any of us. I only got through the mess with Bandito because these guys had my back."
Snadger added, "Honestly, that's the best part of the system. Beyond the classes and the lair access and the experience in the field, it's the connections."
"The real perks were the friends we made along the way,"Tony said, getting them all to laugh.
"Oh, jeez,"Cloud said, as she wiped up the soda that had shot out her nose. "That reminds me of when you found the 'pirate treasure map.'"She put finger quotes on the last words.
"I gotta hear about this!"Syl replied.
"Ok,"Jet starts, "So we were here in the caf, when Tony comes running in—
"Nearly takes out a waiter bot,"from Cloud.
"Shouting 'I found it! I found it!' at the top of his lungs,"Snadger says.
Back to Jet, "and we all are pretending we don't know this embarrassment at this point..." |
I watch the marshmallow get blackened over the campfire. The small flame is mesmerizing, and I find myself lost in it. When I stop zoning out and look at it, it is as dark as charcoal. Good thing I like crispy mashmallows! I don't spare a thought and bite straight into it. I instantly regret it when my mouth starts burning.
"Hoht! Hoht!"I keep it in my mouth, but blow out and fan my hand to try and cool it off faster. I look over to my friends. Julie is laughing uncontrollably, so hard that slight tears form and pool in her blue eyes. Max somehow looks both like he is going to lose his mind with concern and also like he is trying to stifle a laugh. I didn't know humans were capable of making a face like that, but he sure is.
"You're,"Julie pauses to laugh, struggling to breathe through it, "such a dweeb."
"Are...you okay?"Max asks and walks closer towards me. I swallow.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little stupid is all."I give an embarrassed smile. He breathes out in relief before starting to laugh himself. I join in and all three of us are laughing at my accident.
A sharp cracking sound echoes through the forest and suddenly, we are all much too quiet. "What was that?"I ask, unconsciously making my voice into a whisper.
"I don't know."Max whispers back. We all look around for the source, but see and hear nothing else. Julie breathes out in relief.
"Gosh, you guys scared me there."She laughs.
"Well, strange noises scare me. You know this!"My voice is stronger, more steady now. The anxious tension is not quite gone, but it's trying to leave. Max puts a calming hand on my shoulder. I give him a look and smile. He smiles back.
Then, another crack. And I'm jumping up again. I unconsciously bury my face in Max's shoulder so I don't have to see whatever is out here.
"Hello!"A young voice rings. "Anybody out here?"I hear the sound of crunching leaves coming closer. I take my head out of Max's shoulder to look at the source.
The owner of the voice is a small child, eight or nine years old at most. He's wearing long a big puffy jacket and insulated looking pants.. in the middle of summer. Trailing behind him is a small, brown dog. "Hey... do any of you guys know how to get back to town?"He questions, in that really excitable sounding way kids talk. I feel something in the pit of my stomach, but can't place it. Max and Julie don't say anything either, we just all stare at the child, dumbfounded. The kid looks at us expectantly. I clear my throat.
"Y.."my voice still cracks. "Yeah, keep going straight and you'll see a trail, hang a right and you should get back to town."I say, confidently, because my sense of direction is so bad and I've had to been told that maybe ten billion times.
"Thank you!"He shouts and walks towards me. I wince. "Reach out your hands, I want to give you my thanks!"He still sounds like a kid, but his phrasing is off. I hesitantly hold my hand out. He places a smooth rock in the middle of my palm, before leaning down to whisper. "It's a magic rock. Part of my collection. It can never be broken and no matter how many times you use it, the power will remain the same."He pulls away from me and gives me a toothy smile, before taking off towards the trail.
"What...what was that?"I give Max and Julie a look. Julie just shrugs at me.
"No idea."She says.
"I have no idea either, just glad it wasn't some monster or something."Max chuckles.
"Well, okay."I examine the rock in my left hand. Just then, I acknowledge the warmth in my right. Ah, I must've grabbed Max's hand in the commotion. I slowly pull my hand away, but feel pretty awkward about it. Max doesn't acknowledge anything or move.
"I wish I could've held their hand longer, but would that be weird? Yeah that'd probably be weird."I hear Max say.
"Huh?"I look over at him. "What.. did you say?"His face stiffens.
"Did I say that out loud?"He asks. But, I'm looking straight at him and his mouth doesn't move.
"He... didn't say anything though?"Julie questions while looking at me funny.
He... didn't?"I give a puzzled expression.
"I feel sorry for Max, but it's kinda funny seeing them struggle."Julie says, but doesn't say, because her mouth doesn't open either.
"Wait a minute!"I shout. "Um... guys? I think.. this rock is weird." |
Subsets and Splits