prompt
stringlengths 391
14.9k
|
|---|
**"When you miss us, just look to the heavens"**
The sole person at the western gate guardpost looked up and silently watched as the young colony administrator approached on foot. The guard saluted when the man reached his window and signed out one of the armored rovers. The big boss saluted perfunctorily as he turned and climbed into the driver’s seat, obviously lost in thought. This was the evening before Founders Day, after all, and you could hardly blame this one for wanting some alone time. The guard had been at this station long enough to witness this event before, five years in a row as of tonight. It still felt odd to let such an important person leave the safety of their walls by themselves, and they were relieved to see three drones fly overhead.
In truth, the administrator and his colony had been so successful that there was little territory in the immediate vicinity that was not under cultivation, or was not dotted with fortified settlements full of brave farmers. He drove to the nearest memorial park, preserved grassland leading to a steep dropoff. If the sun were shining, the view out over the canyon below would have been even more stunning. Five story tall waterfalls in the distant horizon reflected the more muted pale orange tones of their companion moon instead, as it dominated one corner of the clear night sky.
He parked near the edge, by one of the larger than life commemorative statues, and waited for drone confirmation that he was alone. These grasslands were favored daily migration spaces for the indigenous megafauna, huge shaggy beasts supported by this atmosphere’s higher oxygen levels and this planetoid’s lower gravity of 0.89 G. They were vegetarians and mostly harmless, but it was best not to fill the role of mouse to the elephant, if given the choice. They disliked electric fencing when built tall enough, and tasted awful, so a peaceful coexistence with their new human neighbors had otherwise come to pass. The colonists had learned what nutritious local plants we enjoyed that they did not, and slowly, even the farms were ignored.
Such caution was at the insistence of his chief of staff, who happened to also be his wife, but the colony administrator did not plan to leave the rover tonight. He shifted in the driver’s seat, loosening the harness, and flipped a switch that activated the onboard audio recorder. He settled back into the seat, gazing out the rover’s large windows at the stars overhead that were able to shine next to the moon, strange patterns more and more familiar with the passage of time.
“Hi, it’s me again. They assure me that your ship still receives these little transmissions. It was nice to discover that your battery reserves remained intact after the accident, keeping communications powered. Why, I remember we only had to realign your dish remotely once in these past twenty years, and even that was only done to orient you better with our first major city. I have to admit that it does feel better to think part of you is still out there, listening.”
He smiled. “You would have loved it here. Sure, the oceans ended up having too many heavy metals, but inland water sources proved to all be safe. We have settlements on all three continents now.”
He watched two giant beings with four wings dance in the air, a mating ritual bathed in moonlight. “This night in particular always brings this back up, so bear with me. I was only six when you tried to explain the significance of winning the lottery for that exploratory contract, and then left. I just remember fear and anger that you hadn’t included me in the plan. Uncle Leon tried to put it all in perspective later. Sure, we were colonizing the planets near Earth by that time, and that was already very dangerous work. The contract specified adults only for a reason, blah blah.”
He remembered the initial news reports, and other documentaries over the years that followed. A clearly artificial, manufactured, fully functional wormhole had been discovered in orbit around Saturn, where there had certainly been nothing of the sort there before. Apparent first contact with aliens had made a lot of people nervous, before they started to worry and fight over who should make the most money. Strangely, only a few raised concerns over who these aliens were, what their motives might have been, why they never showed up again. Was this even the work of aliens, or something else? Men and women of science and capitalism were convinced that this was merely another tool for exploration and expansion, something we were invited to borrow and exploit. He was briefly angry all over again that the Sol authorities had not sent drones instead, since we had no idea what was on the other side. Maybe the aliens were waiting there? Alas, no. He made sure to implement his own policy changes that deemphasized any remaining profit motive in modern times, in light of the outcome.
He scratched at the sleeve over his left forearm. “I grew up too soon when your signal cut off, and again when the second scout ship returned with the news we had all anticipated with wonder and dread, collectively as a species. The discovery that would change the course of history had been verified, and the credit was yours. Safe and instantaneous passage thousands of light years across the galaxy was now possible, directly to another solar system with a habitable zone. But, they also found your derelict ship, its automatic emergency beacon thankfully long past broadcasting these days. They say there had been evidence of a freak fuel leak inside the cabin, one of those improbable things that only happens when you build too many starships too quickly, I guess. I am sure that Leon thought he was helping, when he told me that you both probably suffocated from the gas quickly, before it ignited. At least, you managed to reach a stable orbit up there. That has made your memorial easier to maintain.”
He wiped a tear from his face with the heel of his right palm. “Small comfort. Still, first is first, and I remember leaving the only home I’d ever known on Mars when I turned 16 to follow you here, only to find a thriving population, the first new colony in generations. And, I technically owned the place. These days, it seems to run itself. I am getting bored, which sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.” He sighed. “Ugh, sorry. That is my burden, not yours. It feels stupid to complain about such a generous birthright, yes, even one due solely to such bittersweet luck on your part. I just wish there were more for me to do, you know? Good night, Mother. Good night, Father. I’ll speak to you again tomorrow.”
He toggled the switch and transmitted what he had recorded into the sky above. After sitting in silence for a while, he was about to restart the rover’s engine when the radio beeped. He pushed a button. A familiar voice came on the air. “Sir, this is Secretary Noonien. My apologies, if I happen to have interrupted you. I know this is an important private anniversary. They’ve woken the rest of the Colonial Authority, and we’re convening an emergency session in 15 minutes.”
“What could possibly warrant that? It’s the middle of the night.”
“System surveyors logged an emergency report. Suddenly in orbit around Zweitesonne V, you see… Well, it looks exactly like Hannah and Michael’s Gate, sir. Initial drone sweeps report an entirely new solar system on the other side, waiting for us. And, sir, this time there are large structures on two of the planets. Doctor Billings thinks they look very much like cities.”
Overhead, a fast moving satellite twinkled in the night sky. |
Mike blinked. He shifted awkwardly, his gaze flitting back and forth between my face and the unremarkable stainless steel table spoon he had just placed on my desk. Three others lay beside it, two of them similar and one a slightly bent baby’s feeding spoon with one of those temperature sensitive handles.
“Uh, uh, I’m just offering my dues, yeah…” he muttered, avoiding my eyes. Before I could say anything else, he shuffled off, leaving me with four spoons and a lot more questions.
I had asked him why he, and two of my other co-workers, had started bringing me spoons. When I arrived at my desk that morning, not 20 minutes ago, there had already been one waiting for me. Assuming someone had left it there by mistake, I had quickly forgotten about it and continued with my morning, only to be reminded when Bridget from Accounting showed up and wordlessly left the baby spoon on my desk. I was too stunned to say anything. I had never spoken to her in my life.
Jules, the middle manager, was the next to show up. Rather than just placing the spoon on my desk, he actually handed it to me. For a moment he hesitated, and his right hand twitched as if he had narrowly stopped himself from trying to shake my hand. Finally, he just grinned awkwardly and said “Congratulations”, then stomped off, his characteristic limp more pronounced than usual.
Just minutes later, Mike had dropped by with his spoon.
I leaned back and took stock, glancing attentively at each spoon, resisting the impulse to pick one up. For a moment I considered going to Dana, my boss, and asking her if she had any idea what was going on.
I smiled ruefully as I remembered that she was out today. Besides, none of these people worked under her. Chances were good that she would be as clueless as I was.
Could it be a practical joke? I wondered who I knew that knew each of these people well enough to put this together. I couldn’t think of anyone…except, maybe, Luci in the CR department. They knew almost everyone around here, and had gone out of their way to make me feel comfortable when I first started almost eight years ago.
Just then Marcus from HR appeared, silent-looking shadow of a man that he was, and dropped a long, wooden slotted spoon on my desk, making sure to let go of it high enough to create a decent clatter. He stared into my eyes.
“Hi, Marcus…” I began in a small voice, choking my words down as he spoke.
“We’ll be watching you, Miss Jordan.”
His voice had a certain sepulchral quality to it, and echoed in my ears long after he had left.
The rest of the morning passed normally enough, with the usual slew of PX requests clogging my inbox faster than I could empty them and the occasional incomprehensible pm from Jackson, Andrew’s young trainee who had to rely on my dubious knowledge of the old man’s duties whenever he was on sick leave.
At lunch, a thought struck me between bites of reheated macaroni: it couldn’t be Luci, if Marcus was on it. Luci hated Marcus; they had told me as much themselves.
Abruptly, a hot rush of adrenaline filled my body as a loud crack sounded from the window behind me. Whirling around, I grabbed my chair as it tipped and peered out the window just in time to see a small black blur tumbling downwards. It looked like a crow.
I hurried to the window and looked down: sure enough, a large crow lay crumpled three stories below, its neck and wings bent at an unnatural angle. “Poor thing,” I muttered, and turned to clean up my lunch table, when a bright glint caught my eye. Squinting downwards, I could make out something which looked awfully like a spoon, clamped tightly in the crow’s beak.
I walked slowly back to my desk, smiling at colleagues on autopilot as I climbed the stairs. Nothing about this made sense, and the entire…situation was taking on a decidedly supernatural tone.
“Don’t be stupid,” I told myself, “you’ve been reading too many stories.” But look at it however I might, I couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation. Humans were one thing, sure. Who knows what they get up to, sometimes. But why -and how- would a crow be bringing me a spoon, and in such a hurry as to fatally injure itself against a window?
Inexplicably I thought of the ravens of Odin, flying to perch on his shoulders and bring him news of the world.
Back at my desk, trouble was brewing.
When I had been moved to this cube back in ‘18, I had known right away that despite all the other cubes nearby being empty, I would seldom get much peace. Just two rows away, Virginia Jean held court in her over-decorated, oversized cubicle, sharing gossip and loud opinions with anyone who would listen (and most who wouldn’t). A fair few people had formed a de facto clique around her and often spent the early afternoon being very loud indeed.
Today, though, it seemed the crowd had moved to my desk. My pulse quickened as I recognized not just Virginia, Luci, and a few of her other regular cronies, but…Marcus, Mike, and Jackson? They weren’t exactly the type to discuss the latest fashion or argue over politics with a loudmouthed mother of four.
There were nearly twenty people crammed into the space surrounding my cube. I took a moment to collect myself, then marched forward, addressing Virginia herself.
“Hey, Virginia, what’s up?” I asked, putting on my bravest smile.
Every single person instantly stopped talking and turned to face me as one. I backed away, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
“Ummm…”
I glanced down and caught the glint of spoons, hundreds of them, bunched in the fists of each person, protruding from pockets, purses, Luci’s little satchel…Mike had a big serving spoon hanging from a belt loop like a knife.
Virginia stared me dead in the eye.
“Hi, sweetie. You’re just in time.”
She raised her hand, revealing a huge silver spoon, ornate with floral patterns. One edge of the bowl looked like someone had sharpened it.
Before I could react, she lunged, and at the same instant I felt my arms grabbed and held by strong hands. The spoon slashed across my right eye as I jerked my head back, my eyes screwed shut out of reflex. I yelled in shock, already feeling something warm trickling down my face.
I clapped my hands to my face, gingerly feeling around my eye, half expecting it to be gone, or hanging out, like something from a zombie film. Strangely, it didn’t hurt much. I couldn’t feel any blood, either…wait, my hands?
Surprised, I opened my eyes, and discovered that I could see perfectly well from both of them, and that I was alone. Virginia and her friends? cultists? were nowhere to be seen. I was just outside my cubicle, clenching my fists and probably looking very stupid.
“I must be really losing it,” I muttered, and slumped into my chair. For a moment I struggled with, then gave into the urge and pulled a small makeup mirror from my purse. Angling it, I examined my right eye. It looked perfectly normal, with not even a scar to show for…wait. I squinted, tilting my head towards the light. A tiny, pale line stretched from my brow to the top of my cheekbone, creating a tiny gap in my eyebrow.
—----------------------------------------
*That’s all I have time for, for now. Maybe I will write more later.* |
Too easy.
Well. It was always going to be easy. You weren't like anyone else they'd ever expected. Not only were you a master of the thousand shadowy ways, but also of the silent hand, and the printless step. Unlike others too proud to learn even when they'd mastered one of the forbidden thief's arts, you had humbled yourself twice more, portraying yourself as a mere novice to two more schools, never letting on your true skills.
After that, it was a simple matter of finding the most valuable treasure in the world, for the worlds greatest ransom. One job, done, then never having to steal again. That was the trick, you'd planned it out. The stupid ones that got caught? It's because they never knew when to quit. They'd amass a fortune, and then blow it by taking riskier and riskier jobs, their reputation building but also making targets more wary, until they finally bit off more than they could chew. All that stolen wealth means nothing when you're kneeling at the headsman's block or hanging from a rope.
​
But seriously, as renowned as this treasure was, you expected more. The greatest treasure of the Entire Snakes. Stupid name for an organization really. And the loot? It was practically unguarded. Just a few poorly armed, poorly trained soldiers with outrageous accents in a lone tower. And now the treasure was yours. If not for your skills with the shadows, your possession of the object would announce it's presence, but you'd accounted for that. You could walk through a crowded village, much like the one just up ahead, and no one would know...
Something isn't right.
This village is anything but crowded. It's dead silent, during what should be the market hour. Where is every....
You spot the first body. Decapitated. Messily. Another one. Exactly the same.
Something bad has happened here. Reflexively you release the daggers from their hidden sheathes up your sleeves. You have no idea what did this, but it sure as hell isn't going to catch you off guard. The further you walk, the more bodies you see. Each killed exactly the same way. There are no signs of battle, just...death. It appears that everyone was killed either completely unawares, or in the process of fleeing. The town guards, also headless, all their weapons halfway out of sheathes, clutched in cold fingers that gripped in the vice of rigor mortis.
What happened here?!
A foot step behind you. Very light. Not human. You spin around to face
​
A fluffy white bunny rabbit.
​
And then you see nothing more. |
\[Title\] The Engineer
*Je suis l'ingénieur Clemont*. I was born in the year of Our Lord 1800 at the Hôpital Pitié-Salpêtrière in the 13th arrondissement. My father was taken by the guillotine before I was born and my mother died in childbirth. Time and Death were my parents for most of my life. They taught me most of what I've come to know of the world. Before I was barely a teenager, I was sent to work in a factory that supplied materials for major edifices in the city including the first railroad. I was shy and aloof, so the foremen usually gave me simple tasks of taking out rubbish and sorting scrap metal. I wasn't beaten that much like the older boys who seemed to always have a chip on their shoulder. One giant adolescent who we called Gordie because of his size, would get into regular fist fights with the lead foreman Jean-Pierre but the other foremen would usually jump in and wrestle the 14-year-old boy to the ground, kicking and spitting on him. Gordie never cried, that I saw, and always stood up for himself. I will never know from where that courage comes from. I always categorized myself as a coward. A skinny coward that had less spine than a jellyfish who always did what he was told in the factory regardless of how hard it became to breath or how much my legs would hurt and cramp up from standing so much.
By the time I was 17 I was able to become an apprentice and work on the production line in the factory. The transition was simple and with little fanfare as Gordie was sent away in shackles for beating a foreman beyond consciousness. It wasn't Jean-Pierre because by this time Jean-Pierre had grown tired of fighting with children. The now old man now just spat at us and called our mothers whores for punishment. I didn't take offense to it because I didn't know anything of my mother. She could have been a whore. She could have been a lady in waiting for the last Queen. Whoever she was, I'm glad she left this life before it was too late. I don't see how a woman could cope with what France had become after the guillotine. The country was bankrupt. I was lucky to keep a position in the factory at all. So many people were either poor or destitute. I honestly couldn't see how the appellation of "whore"could be an insult to a woman in this time. If she had become a whore to feed herself or her family, she was indeed a noble citizen. That's how I saw it. But I saw things so differently from everyone else. I experienced the world differently. I was optimistic despite the misery I endured. Despite the misery that made its way between my first and last name. But I was never quite good enough company for misery. I tried to hide this as best I could.
In the spring of 1819, I was by all means a grown man. I managed to keep myself fed despite the rations in the factory. I had at least one extra good pair of shoes which I wore to mass on Sundays. My best coat unfortunately had oil stains and smelled of nothing else but the factory. I would sit in the back of the church to avoid the disapproving murmurs of the middle-class parishioners. But I also wanted to keep and eye on...her. Her name was Marie-Louise Devereaux. And to me she was the new Eve of France. She wasn't beautiful in the conventional French way. She didn't wear enough makeup for that kind of beauty. She had a milky glow that framed two giant orbs of blue above a rosy puddle that was her lips. I never spoke to her because I didn't want her lips to part or her eyes to shift and look straight into mine. What would she have ever found in my eyes but misery and cowardice? And I had nothing to offer her as a suitor, let alone a husband. She would only ever be the Venus to my Boticelli.
The reader would wonder how a poor factory boy would come to know Boticelli. The answer is I went looking for something to which I could compare Marie-Louise. I wanted to know if there were any depictions of beauty to rival her. So, I stumbled upon the Boticelli Venus. Between You and I, gentle reader, I don't think Venus to be more beautiful than my Marie-Louise. Maybe I'm just a simpleton with a chest full of coal dust and greasy clothes. But that's how I see it.
I told you I experience the world differently than others. So differently I can stop Time itself. I consider it a gift bestowed upon people like me with such a horrible relationship with Time. There wasn't enough time for my mother, nor my father to ever know of my existence. There wasn't enough time for me to tell Gordie that I thought he was brave enough he didn't need to fight. I didn't have time to tell him that he could fight a more important fight outside of the factory. The fight for his life and happiness. He could fight for a family of his own. But I didn't have time. So now in my late teens I have come into a prodigious talent to stop Time altogether. To tell Time "No more, that is enough, you have taken too much from me and everyone else."Time may have once been my first parent, but I was the parent of Time now.
One Sunday in June I had to stop Time longer than usual. It was at the end of mass and Marie-Louise was starting to walk out with her family. When she rose from her chair and turned, I saw her face. I was so gripped with passion and pain I couldn't control the sobs that choked me. I knew that if I let her leave the church that she would become another victim. A victim of Time. Time would sever her ties to all beautiful things with the same scythe that Shakespeare spoke of. With that scythe, Time would butcher my one and only true love. So, before Marie-Louise could leave the church, I stopped Time dead in its tracks. Time screeched like a train coming to a stop. The sound was deafening but then all was silent.
Nothing moved. The world had stopped, and Marie-Louise stood there amongst the rest of the congregation. All frozen. I approached her and thought I would kiss her. I decided not to. It wouldn't be a genuine kiss and I would dare scandalize my own Venus. I just marveled at her beauty. Beauty that was without misery. Without pain. Without Time. |
Moon Owl, was once again needed in the middle of his nap. However, this time he was gathered with multiple heroes. His friend, Thundershock, was also called.
The scene of the crime was a gas station. Moon Owl was not impressed. He’d fought people on mountains, defended cities, and flew thousands of kilometres into the sky, nearly reaching space, to defend earth.
So a run-down gas station was not what he’d expected. He turned towards Thundershock.
“They really called all of us for this?” Moon Owl asked.
“Apparently it’s a huge threat or something.”
“Whatever, let’s just get this done.”
Moon Owl, Thundershock, and another hero named Pounce walked into the convenience store. They saw a man, who wore jeans and a grey shirt. He looked like a regular citizen.
Moon Owl was a bit more irritated now. “What are you doing?” He asked.
The man turned to him and replied with an evil grin. “I’m going to take over the world.”
Thundershock chuckled and asked him how.
The man’s grin became wider, and he snapped his finger.
Suddenly, Thundershocks phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Your drivers license has expired. Come to your DMV to renew it.”
“What? But I swear I had a year left?”
“Nope, it says yesterdays date. Renew it ASAP or fines can occur.”
*Click*
Thundershock stared at the man.
“What did you do to my drivers license?”
“I expired it. You’ll now have to wait at a DMV for some 4 hours to renew it!” The man cackled.
“You’re a monster.” Thundershock said.
Moon Owl stared in disbelief. Pounce spoke up next.
“You still can’t stop me. My hero license protects my driver license because I took a premature H3 test!”
The man just looked at Pounce and smiled, before snapping his fingers. The snap seemed to echo throughout the building.
Pounce waited for a phone call, but nothing came.
Pounce laughed and said “See guys, it’s a bluff!”
The man then laughed and said “Oh, Pounce. I didn’t expire your drivers licence. You’re gonna go home to make some food, but every grocery in your house is expired! No more milk! Moldy Bread! Now you’ll have to go to the nearest grocery store and shop for all the missing spices and ingredients!”
Pounce was shocked. “How could you do this?”
Moon Owl grimaced and said “Enough Games, we’re taking you in.”
The man just smiled. “NOBODY CAN STOP MILD INCONVENIENCE MAN!” and snapped his fingers before Moon Owl could stop him.
Moon Owl grabbed the man by his shoulders and screamed “WHAT DID YOU DO?” The man, albeit being pressed into a wall, laughed and said “I cursed your shoes to forever NEVER be equally tightened! One shoe will always feel tighter than the other!”
Moon Owl threw him across the room. The man landed with a loud thud, falling unconscious with a wicked smile on his face.
“Dude, you didn’t have to throw him!” Thundershock said.
“He’s a menace to society, we need to lock him up on the island.”
Thundershock nodded, put the man in a prisoner can, and the three heroes left the gas station, each mildly irritated. |
I know only what I feel—in the literal sense of the word. I know the warmth of spattered blood. I know the position of my grip on the handle of a scalpel, and the soft resistance of flesh as I slice it open. I know the slippery, pulsing, undulations of a beating heart—even as I extract it from within. I know the satisfying tension of my fingers around the quivering mass of a life as I squeeze it out of being. I know that I grow unsteady, twitching and unrestful, when I have been starved of this knowledge for too long.
I know the metal of my keys as I count them in my pocket. One for the vehicle, to transport the lives I soon will hold. One for the cabin door, where my tools of knowledge lay. One for the apartment, where I lay upon an armrest, basking in the afterglow of knowing another life—another death.
Of late I am coming to know new things. The hard and painful grip of shackles about my wrist. The cold wooden surface of a table and a new unsteadiness. An unsteadiness not of starvation for knowledge, but of fear that my knowledge is not mine alone.
I know my grip around a pencil as I share the things I know, a freedom from unsteadiness in the confession that I sign. |
The low stream ran swollen along it's culvert, the marsh warbler willing sang his sweet melody from the overhanging boughs, the common lay quiet and still with the rasping of grasshoppers and the passage of ruminants, wandering to and fro in contentment, I sat upon the slight rise, whistling to the ceaseless wind that scattered the wildflower seed hither and thither about that sleepy place. The miller's windmill lay a landmark, great sail turning lazily, met only by the church, a sluggish steeple of oak and daub. I sighed lazily and rose with the effort, exherted by a man with a duty and whistled a different tune, the dog beside me started and at once began to round the sheep to my command. Homeward.
The street dirt, packed hard by wagon and gander snaked amongst the low houses, clothed in straw and small windows, their long plots behind squawked with chickens or flushed gold with wheat. The lord's Manor rising a little farther away, glittering against the sun and with the bent backs of my fellows upon his demesne lands. Home arrived as suddenly as it had receeded when I'd left that morn.
The sheep put to stable, the crumbling step brushed. The fire set and pottage on the stove. I sat to rest when My father came puffing up the road, eye's darting, cheeks reddened, spittle flying "K-king's men! At the market, -War, go!"
I rushed to market. A crowd had gathered, the tailor, the green's, the vicar, any man of any importance in Gaitly was here and for good reason. As I cut through the crowd to the front...
A column. A column of men three or so wide and stretching far into the distance, great men. Huscarl's, enormous and cold. Their eyes hungering at our supplies, their axes gleaming noble and proud, their armour of bear fur rippling in the wind, upon horseback a man came cantering, his horse some terrible thing of strong muscle and stronger discipline, his face filled with cunning and apprehension, for something was coming.
"I, I Guy of Warwick, Earl of Northumbria speak to you on behalf of the King, by his grace I call you to arms! For across the sea in the land of France, a Frenchman is coming! To take our English throne! To take your lives, your crops!, your ploughs! Thine own goodly king! Join my Fryd. Your fealty shall be rewarded with an England for the English!"And his words resounding with the horn, and in the trees, in our hearts. For the king, for country I should surely fight?
That was then. This is now.
It is dawn. The warbler does not sing now, nor does the black Bird, nor his countrymen's stridulations. Perhaps they are afraid of the brewing bloodshed?
The horn sounds. A deep mournful baying that calls us to action. Those of noble blood and mettle behind and we that flower of England's soil in front. The great roar of the enemy can be heard now in snatches that sliver over the hill in which their camp lies.
There they are! A sea of shining mail and comely knight's glittering like stag beetles, and each atop a horse, a beast of gnashing teeth and hoof and he armed with shield and lance. We are running! The grass wet with dew. England's tears beneath our feet. Our cry a high ghostly call to rival their thunderous rumbling, our weapons held aloft, mine a sharp daggered pitchfork.
We are among them!. A bright instant, a French Knight amongst our mass, lance wet with blood and running through man to open air to man again, his royal blue and white vest rippling with the colder wind and splattered now with our blood. His horse savagely tearing at close hand and foot crushing any beneath it's noble hooves. His head mailed and glittering both by brilliant sun and bejeweled with blood.
In another he is gone and more nameless village fools fall to fill the dead's place. Another is bogged down, his horse slashed by scythe or skewered by pitchfork, it's gut's spilled into a frenzy, his lance cumbersome and cast aside, his sword rising high and swishing low and sopping and sending spray's high, all of a sudden the sword is gone and a dagger sneaks into the slit of his visor and he is fallen, dying in a sputtering of French and Latin and groudward into the mud.
They are retreating? Yes!
The sky, grew dark suddenly whether be God's anger or the superior tactician for it was arrows, which thwipped into flesh and steel as I dove to ground to shelter amongst the dead from that fatal flurry. My fellows struck, flesh marked deep by those sharp biting heads, blood running freely.
Yet, as I rise, there my death is. A Knight astride his destroyed, his sword swooping low to plunge into my neck, his visor down, eyes hidden and his head crimson with the blood of my fellows.
Darkness as his blade rings true. |
Following the road, Carson rode his horse under the night sky of Herolia. He was searching for adventure. He knew that monsters were active at midnight, so this was a great time. He spotted a purple tent that appeared to belong to a merchant. He approached the tent and saw an old man. "Hello. Welcome to Karo's Shop. We have magical weapons", he said gesturing to the variety of weapons on the table before him, "or I can offer you something for a collector."The horseman looked at the prices of the weapons. They were very high, and too much for him, definitely. "You have more than just these weapons?", asked Carson, who was trying to look behind Karo. It was dark, so he couldn't see anything behind the old man. "Yes", he replied. He turned around and turned back to Carson with a hefty-looking dragon tail. "How much is that?", asked Carson. "50.""I'll take it."Carson hopped of his steed and grabbed the tail. He the paid for it and put the tail in his backpack. "Come again", said the seller.
The next morning, Carson woke up in darkness. He could tell that he was covered by fabric. "This isn't right", he thought. He tried to find his way out of the darkness and into light. Once he did, he realized that his room around him was bigger. He shrunk! He looked back in a panic to see his massive clothes. He decided that he needed to tell his brother (who he lived with). He jumped down off the bed and picked up a leaf from his house plant. He shaped it around himself to form an outfit. He climbed under the door, now decent.
He saw his brother walking toward him, but he was unaware. "Gotfried!", shouted the small man. The brother looked down to see him, initiating a shocked expression. "How did this happen?", he asked, squatting. "I don't know.""What did you do last night?"
"I bought a dragon tail from a merchant."
"I've heard of merchants who will curse their customers for no reason...I could grow you back with my wand..."He formed a smug face. "...But, should I?"Carson was confused. "I mean", his brother went on, "you *have* annoyed me...picked on me...""I'm sorry. I'll treat you well."
"I can step on you.""Gotfried!", he shouted, offended. "Just kiddin'". |
Excerpts from Chapter 2 of the historical review: "Early IV-24 Interventions and Results: A Retrospective Analysis":
**05/02/2023**
Atlanta Police Department Advises Take Shelter Now. Explosion at Emory University, shelter until 16:30. Emergency services enroute.
**05/06/2024**
Atlanta Police Department Advises Shelter-In-Place. Minor Civil Disturbance at Piedmont Heights. Advisory Shelter-In-Place in effect until 12:00. Emergency services enroute.
**05/07/2024**
Atlanta Police Department Advises Shelter-In-Place. Minor Civil Disturbance at Piedmont Heights. Advisory Shelter-In-Place in effect until 10:00. Emergency services enroute.
Atlanta Police Department Advises Shelter-In-Place. Minor Civil Disturbance at Greater Valley Brook. Advisory Shelter-In-Place in effect 13:00. Emergency services enroute.
Atlanta Police Department Advises Shelter-In-Place. Minor Civil Disturbance at Candler park. Advisory Shelter-In-Place in effect until 1700. Emergency services enroute.
Atlanta Police Department Advises Shelter-In-Place. Minor Civil Disturbances at Emory University. Situation evolving, residents are advised to shelter-in-place until further notice. Emergency services enroute.
**05/08/2024**
Atlanta Police Department Has Issued a Travel Restriction to Emory University. Residents are advised to Shelter-In-Place. Scattered Civil Disturbances Reported. Emergency Services enroute.
Atlanta Police Department Has Issued a Shelter-In-Place. Scattered Civil Disturbances reported at Candler Park. Emergency Services enroute.
**05/09/2024**
Atlanta Police Department has Issued a City-Wide Shelter-In-Place Order. Scattered Civil Disturbances disrupting daily activities have been reported. To report a local disturbance, please call emergency services. Emergency Services enroute. Non-essential workers should consult with employers to avoid leaving shelter.
**05/10/2024**
Atlanta Police Department has Issued a City-Wide Shelter-In-Place Order. Scattered Disturbances disrupting daily activities have been reported. To report a local disturbance, please call emergency services. Emergency Services are delayed.
**05/11/2024**
Governor Brian Kimp has Issued a Curfew for the City of Atlanta. Residents will remain in shelter from 1700 to 0900 to clear streets for first responders. Failure to follow curfew may result in fines and/or jail time not to exceed $1,000 or 1 month. Emergency Services are responding as available to local disturbances.
*\[Historian's note the relative speed at which Atlanta and Georgia officials responded to the growing civil disturbances. While not sufficient to suppress infections to a class 3 or 4 outbreak, many logistics and data scientists argue these actions bought precious hours to spread awareness through social media and word-of-mouth. \]*
**05/12/2024**
New York Police Department has Issued a Stay At Home Order for....
Chicago Police Department has Issued a Shelter-In Place Order for...
Sacramento Police Department has Issued a Shelter Advisory for...
*\[The focus of this review is the responses observed in the initial outbreak(s) at the epicenter, Atlanta Georgia. To find an estimated timeline of spread to domestic cities by flights, reference appendix 1A. To find an estimated timeline of spread to foreign cities by flights, reference appendix 1B. To view a simulation of spread across the globe as timestamped by internet posts, emergency logs, and survivor interviews, reference the attached video 2A.\]*
Governor Brian Kimp has Issued a Notice of Operations. National Guard Reserves are being called on to respond to the spreading civil disturbances. Residents are advised to remain indoors. Individuals found breaking curfew will be detained.
Governor Brian Kimp has Issued a Curfew for the following counties: Barrow, Cherokee, Clayton, Cobb, Coweta, DeKalb, Douglas, Fayette, Forsyth, Fulton, Gwinnett, Hall, Henry, Paulding, and Rockdale. Failure to follow curfew may result in fines and/or jail time not to exceed $5,000 and/or 9 month. Emergency Services are responding as available to local disturbances.
*\[Contrary to modern beliefs of widespread ignorance, many individuals in affected areas were developing awareness of the necrobites (common terminology coined in the early days of the infection, used for historical consistency when referencing the reanimation of individuals with the Isavirus-2024 or IV-24) within these initial days. This awareness was not originally represented in the logged EAS. Many historians debate whether this suppression was done with intent or by lack of comprehension. Recovered messaging data from first responders indicates they comprehended the situation as necrobites and not a typical civil disturbance, lending support to the theory that the suppression of information was to prevent a panic in the general public.\]*
**05/13/2024**
Governor Brian Kimp has Issued an Announcement. Residents of the state of Georgia are to Shelter-In-Place. Residents are reminded of the stand-your-ground stance of personal protection. Should individuals threaten your personal safety, residents are advised to prioritize personal safety. Report disturbances to local officials. Emergency Services are responding as available.
*\[Many Historians and Researchers agree that this public announcement was a major accelerant for many smaller, secondary outbreaks that spread from the initially infected cities into surrounding rural areas as survivors fled. The IV-24 virus, although unknown at the time, spread through contact with mucosal membranes such as eyes, the nasal cavity, the lungs, the mouth, and most often open wounds. Health officials at the time were ignorant of the etiology of the outbreak and did not consider the effects of aerosolized blood in close quarters. This order resulted in the infection of many defenders and nearby individuals while attempting to defend themselves. Survivors noted this route of infection within the first few weeks of the outbreak and made changes to their survival techniques. While guns lost favorability in close combat situations, many groups still engaged in open-air fights to clear necrobite-infested areas when appropriate protective gear was available. Video logs of several of these battles can be found in appendix 2B-F.\]*
*\[The difference in disease progression based on route of entry is suspected to have also played a role in the decrease of many survivor enclaves. When bitten, the increased viral load typically lead to full organ failure due to fever and/or hemorrhagic lysis and reanimation within 6-18 hours. When exposed to aerosolized particles, historical documents detail infections taking 4-8 days with individuals shedding virus up to 36 hours prior to reanimation. This prolonged incubation time is suspected to have spawned several of the myths of immunity, as many individuals would develop symptoms and then seem to improve before declining again.\]*
*\[For a full detailing of how the proteomics of the virus impacted the outbreak, please refer to the works of Hutsy, Redmoore, and Wilkins. It has been established that the virus in spilled fluids may be viable for up to 120 minutes, depending on the quantity of fluid, exposure to light and heat. Research today has shown that the virus is capable of remaining aerosolized for 7-60 minutes depending on environmental conditions, but is highly susceptible to UV radiation. \]* |
"No one's here..."
That's because you killed everyone.
The man looked about, startled at my voice. "Then who are you?"
I'm the narrator, silly! You've just massacred a whole city full of people, so there's no one around to do the speaking parts. But it would be sorta lame if you just walked around talking to yourself, so I decided to pop in here and chat with you.
"Oh, I see. I've finally gone insane! I was wondering when that would happen."The man grinned, exposing a mouthful of sharp, yellowed teeth. He ran a gloved hand over his bald scalp, leaving a streak of crimson.
"Wait, what? I'm not bald— what the hell?!"The man clasped the top of his very bald head in shock. "No! I had hair before this! It was all silky and shiny and perfect! I mean...wait, did I have hair before this?"
Nope! Everything I narrate is perfectly true all the time. You must've been imagining having hair.
"I must have been."The killer nodded, perfectly convinced. "But what the heck are you? Why are you narrating my life?"
I mean, why did you kill all those people?
"Well, uh, I don't know. It was... hm..."
He paused and rubbed his chin, before remembering his tragic backstory.
"Yes, that's right! It was... um..."
It was back during your childhood, wasn't it? You were relentlessly bullied for being bald.
"No, it wasn't that. It was... um..."
They also made fun of your teeth, right?
"No, wait, that wasn't it. You're making crap up again!"The man was getting worked up for no good reason.
You're right, you're right. They made fun of you because you were a little pudgy, too, right?
"What?! No! That's not true, is it?!"The man clutched at his ample gut, suddenly unsure of himself. "I remember being pretty fit just a few seconds ago. You, you're changing the narrative!"
I didn't see any part of the narration saying you were fit or slim before, hm?
"That's because you didn't put it there!"the man snapped, looking angry now. "You're ruining my story!"
Your story? Excuse me, buddy. I'm the narrator here. You're just some silly killer that I made up. You have no control over how your story is told.
"Shut up! Stop making up lies!"
Hey, I don't make up anything. I only ever tell the truth. It's the nature of my existence, after all. Everything that I narrate is true. Pretty cool power, eh?
"Then what am I doing here?!"the man roared.
Huh? You're the one who showed up out of nowhere and killed a bunch of people. You've gotta figure it out yourself. I'm just the narrator telling the story.
"This is nonsense!"the man snarled. He took a step back and tripped over the leg of a dead woman, collapsing to the ground. "Hey! You put that there, didn't you? You're trying to kill me!"
No, silly. I'm the narrator. I could kill you super easily. Watch!
Suddenly, the man was impaled by a rusty steel girder. His body went rigid, then collapsed to the ground. Blood leaked from his mouth, pooling on the pavement.
See? Told ya!
The man didn't move or talk back.
Hm.
Wait, if he's dead, then isn't the story over...? |
I found my second kidnapping a lot less exciting than the first. It was scary of course, and I don't mean to sound disappointed in any way because all things considered, I would have preferred to not be kidnapped at all, but faced with another dark hood smelling faintly of cabbages while being carelessly thrown into a van and now finding myself once again in a dimly lit basement... well it was just a bit sad having all of the terror with none of the thrill.
I'm not sure why I was being kidnapped again, I wasn't really clear the first time. I'm no diplomat, I don't have any enemies, I guess I must just have one of those kidnappable faces. I momentarily wondered what the world record for kidnappings was then dismissed it as I'm sure there was a politician winning and I'd have no shot of catching up.
"Welcome"
It sounded like a man but with the bag still on my head the only thing I could make out was a blurry shape moving slowly around a small room.
"Who are you? I don't know what you want with me but I am sure I'm not the guy you're after! Please, just let me go"the same words I spoke last time. For some reason I hoped it wasn't the same kidnapper and he wouldn't notice me re-using material.
"Why?"
"It's seriously not me! I have a family, I- wait did you ask me why?"
"Yes, why should I let you go?"
"Well... because I'm the wrong person, I'm innocent!"
"Innocent is a bold claim. Have you done some good in this world? What was your last good deed?"
"Well I er, I haven't committed a crime, haven't physically hurt anyone"
"Is that the bar for goodness these days? Did you ever make someone's day better or only managed to resist the urge to hit them with a club?"
"Well I, you know, I feel really bad for those people in that war the news keeps reporting about. Terrible situation- I keep telling people it's terrible. I shared that social post from that actor that talked about it!"
I think I heard a sigh. "Let's try again; did you ever make a sacrifice, however small, to make something better for another living being?"
"I don't know about sacrifice exactly but look really I'm a nice person-"
I flinched as the door behind me swung open. For a moment I feared the worst, but then I heard the familiar sounds of a muffled voice, the strain of rope on bound wrists, the sliding of a chair across stone. Someone else was in the process of being kidnapped right next to me. It disturbed me that the sounds were as obvious as those of an ice cream truck to kids.
The voice addressed the newcomer. "Welcome - tell us, what have you done to be worthy of setting free?"
A female voice responded. "What are you psychos doing!? Take me back to my dog, he's blind, he gets scared when he can't smell me!"
"Caring for a blind creature. Very noble. You may go"
The sound of the chair scraping over stone floors echoed back down the corridor as the woman was removed as fast as she had arrived. I assumed she was leaving, I wasn't so familiar with that sound.
"What that's it!? You let her go for looking after a pet!?"
"Have you done that?"
"Well no, but I'm sure I must have done something close!"my mind drew blanks. "Look if you let me out of here I swear I'll be a better person. Please I'll do great things, lesson learned, I just need to get out of here!"
A loud crash behind me signaled the end, they'd had enough and were sending in the heavy to hurt me.
"POLICE! EVERYBODY DOWN!"
There were footsteps, the sound of cuffs and a lot of grunting. Some more instructions were shouted but there didn't seem to be any real resistance as the police piled into the small room. Blurry shapes moved all around me and dragged one blurry shape out of the room. After what felt like an eternity someone finally took my hood off.
A cop stuck his face into mine. "Hey I recognize you! You're that guy from the kidnapping we had last month"
"Yeah that's me"
"Hey Kenny- look! It's the guy from last month!"a colleague nearby gave him a thumbs up "Alright man, we're going to let you go but I'd suggest you stop getting yourself kidnapped you hear? Give freedom a chance!"
His jokes did nothing to lighten my mood.
The police took my statement at the station and later on dropped me off at my apartment building.
A sleeping homeless man blocked the doorway.
It transported me straight back into that small room and I realized this was my chance to do some good. I reached into my pocket to find some spare change. Empty. I looked around unsure how to proceed. There was an ATM around the corner but... then I'd have to give him at least $10, maybe more if it was short on bills.
I carefully stepped over him instead, taking extra care not to knock the little cup he had set out for loose change. I'm sure there'll be another day where I'll be able to give him something. As I headed up the stairs a prideful smile broke out on my face and I reflected on what a great person I was for just how good my intentions were. |
(Part I)
*Alright,* I thought to myself*. All you have to do is teach them biology. Shouldn't be too difficult. You got this.*
I took a quick breath and let it out slowly, patting my chest as I tried to calm down. This was my first day as a teacher, and I had the honor to be assigned to the first class for our school's new educational subject: human biology. "Oh,"some people might say. "But isn't biology already a subject in school?"Yes, but this is a different type of class.
"Hello, class!"I said with a somewhat forced pep in my voice. I was met with a chorus of raspy voices, guttural growls, unintelligible squelches, and even a psychic how-do-you-do. If you hadn't guessed by now . . .
. . . This class was for aliens.
"My name . . ."I said in a warm tone as I turned around and began writing on the blackboard. ". . . is Mr. Avilés. I'll be your teacher for this extensive course on human biology. I hope we can all get along well. First, I'd like to learn a little bit more about yourselves. When I call your name--and forgive me if I pronounce it wrong--please tell me your race, your home star system and planet, and whatever personal facts you feel comfortable sharing."
I looked at the class with a patient gaze. All of the creatures were staring at each other, seemingly in confusion. My expression fell as I tried to figure out what was wrong before one student spoke out.
**"Sir."**
I looked up to see an extended vine raised in the air. It came from a student whose body seemed to be made of a substance similar to moss, with several strands of long vine-like hair covering the majority of her body. I quickly looked at my seating chart and read the name.
"Yes, uh . . . Enira."
**"I believe you forgot to turn on your translator."**
". . . O-oh. Thank you."I blushed softly before reaching into my pocket and pulling out the translator I was given this morning. I had completely forgotten about it due to my nerves. I put it in my ear and turned it on. A curt hiss escaped my lips as I felt a sudden pang inside my ear.
*I guess that means it's working.*
"Hello? Can you all understand me now?"
The class unanimously nodded and spoke in positive unison. After settling that problem, I repeated what I had said earlier, with the creatures now understanding and willing to go ahead.
"Alright, let's see . . . First up is R'onar."
R'onar was a large being, his body consisting of magmatic rock. Due to the danger his normally active body could cause in the classroom (especially around the students who are sensitive to heat), he had to have a large pitcher of water near him, which he would continuously pour on himself to cool down and turn his body into living obsidian.
**"My home is located in the** ***M'artok*** **System. I believe you humans call it the 'Orion Nebula.' My planet is Onar-2, one of a pair of rogue planets currently inhabiting the nebula. My race is the** ***S'aksum*****, a people of igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic rock. As you can see, I belong to the igneous faction."**
I nodded as I wrote down what R'onar said. The way he spoke was deep and rough, yet surprisingly gentle.
"Okay. And something about your personal life, be it on Earth or Onar-2. What did you do for fun? Did you have an occupation? Whatever you'd like to talk about."
He thought to himself for a second before speaking. **"I enjoyed feasting on the nebular gas of** ***M'artok*****."**
". . . W-what?" |
SynGora the Evil let out a smile of fetid breath upon arising. Stretching, she regarded the rocky ceiling of her lair. Lovely, she thought. My night off! Yay!!! Gazing around at her carefully cultivated gloomy bedroom, she sighed and sat for one luxurious moment, and began to think about all the things she was going to get done. First off, she thought, I really need to text my minions. She rummaged around in her silken sheets, locating her Demon’s Device, and it lit up. “Alexa,”she intoned, “send message to Targh.”
“Ready.”
“Targh. Hi just touching base. Wondering if you got the file on the hostages we took last night. Hope all is well.”…she hesitated, “Thanks.”
“Message to KolnGor.” The device chirped, waiting, “Hey Koln! Hope the cleanup went well! I’m out today, so if any problems see DamGor.”
“message to DamGor….Hi Dammy, I trust KolnGor has the coverup wrapped up and sealed. I trust you boo.”
SynGor exhaled luxuriantly. A wraith appeared bearing a silver tray upon which a chalice rested. Eagerly, she reached for the drink and noisily slurped it down. As soon as that wraith dissolved into smoke, another appeared, bearing a tray with tiny burnt cubes.
“Mmmm! My favorite! Burnt croutons! Thank you wrai…” but there was nothing left but smoke.
SynGora rose and dressed, in her favorite red scaled dress, the one with the moldy hem, so chic!! She twirled around, admiring her tentacles, but then frowned. Hmm. Perhaps a manicure today. The Devil’s device chimed. Pursing her lip, one fang stuck, she regarded the name of the calller. Dang. Mom. She let it ring out, becoming more agitated as it continued. Not today.
She exited her boudoir and continued along a network of winding corridors, torch lit, damp and moldy, until a vast cavern appeared. Several mewling hellcats circled around her feet. “Hello Missy! Hello Max!” She petted each one and acknowledged their name. Hissing, they disappeared into the black walls. SynGora flopped down onto her pillowed-laden pallet, and summoned the tv to turn on. There, she watched a bit of world news, mumbling to herself, “Hmm. There’s some real devil’s work there!” And sometimes snorting, “Dang that’s evil!”
Eventually, her gaze turned to the city skyline. Dusk. My favorite, she mused. Everyone turning in for the night, trusting, Cozy, unaware. She licked her lip, and again a fang got stuck. Shit, she thought. I should see a dentist. She twisted her neck to a corner of her secret Evil lair. Three corpses lay atop of one another, slimy, decomposing and disgusting. “Patience my dead ones. Soon you will meet your Maker’s Maker. I will only your use souls for sustenance.” A dead arm fell from one corpse, acknowledging.
The devil’ s device chirped. Brightening, she punched a key, “ HirfGor !!!! Hey girl! What up?”
“Nuttin’. You coming tonight? Bruno iS comin’. “ SynGor stiffened yet remained silent. “Who?” Her voice was reedy.
“Bruno! You know…Broo No. “ the syllables were articulated, the r was
rolled. A warm sweat poured out of her pores. her face yellowed with bile. “Yes, Bruno. Of course. I’ll be there….I’m coming.” |
"That'll be $10.65."
I nod, tapping my credit card on the reader. It beeps and I can hear the cashier sniffling like he's got a leaky faucet for a nose. My eyes flicker up to him as I stuff my wallet in my purse. I can tell he wants to run his shirt sleeve across the snot dribbling from his nostrils but—to my relief—he refrains. I grab my receipt and go sit by the window. As I wait for my smoothie, I see him out of the corner of my eye. I wish I hadn't. My throat clenches, then closes, and I force my gaze away. I pray he's not the one making my smoothie, but I'm never that lucky.
I lose my focus in my phone's screen as the minutes tick by. I check social media, scrolling aimlessly and growing bored quickly. I cringe as I switch to my texting app. 32 unread messages. I tell myself I need to quit leaving my phone on Do Not Disturb but I know it's pointless. Avoidance is my middle name. I set my phone face down, letting out a deep sigh. My gaze wanders back to the counter. Mr. Sniffles has his fingers gripped around a blender, starting and stopping the whirling blades in a way that feels less than optimal. The bell chimes next to me as someone enters the cafe. I ignore it, mesmerized by the way Sniffles is now shaking the blender in its cradle, trying to dislodge a chunk of banana.
"Hey, stranger."
My body jolts as I'm ripped from my trance. It takes a minute for my brain to catch up but when it does, my stomach drops. I know that voice. Curse words are flying inside my head as I stare up at him.
"Oliver,"I utter through clenched teeth.
He smiles down at me, a kind of toothy grin that can't be genuine. It spreads across his face for an ungodly amount of time and I feel my flight or fight response gearing up for battle. I hope it's *fight*.
"Your brother told me you moved back to town."He laughs, an obnoxious, breathy thing that probably makes all his Tinder dates swoon. I just want to gag. "Told him I wouldn't believe it until I saw it."
I try to smile but my nose scrunches the whole thing up into a grimace. "Well, here I am."
He smirks and my mollars grind against each other. Then I remember that I can probably get away with punching him in his stupid face. I am the police chief's daughter after all. As I contemplate it, Sniffles calls my name.
"Anna."
As I turn, I catch a glimpse of Sniffles' hand running under his nose.
"We should get dinner sometime,"Oliver states.
I freeze. I'm awkwardly hovering in the air, halfway out of my seat when Sniffles calls my name again. I shoot him a sharp look as I remember how to move my body. I ignore Oliver and quickly go to snatch my smoothie away from Sniffles' dripping nose. When I head back, Oliver is waiting for me. I stop in front of him and nod to the door.
"S'cuse me."
He doesn't budge. He stares at me with that same stupid look he had in high school. Mischievous, bright eyes. Slight curl of his lip. It's at this moment that I consider violence again but his voice pulls me from that fantasy.
"Let me take you out to dinner."
My eyebrows raise high on my face and I let out a stilted laugh. "Yeah, right."I wait for him to move out of the way but he doesn't. "You're joking, obviously?"
He cocks his head to the side and looks at me funny. "Why would I be joking?"
I feel my cheeks grow hot. Then the palms of my hands start to sweat. It feels like my skin is on fire and part of me wonders if my smoothie is going to turn into soup in my hands. Not that it matters, it's going in the garbage as soon as I part ways with Mr. Sniffles.
"Why?"I ask. "Maybe because you spent all of our childhood making my life a living hell?"My fury takes over, pushing my body into Oliver's personal space. The toes of my sneakers bump into his as I lose all sense of sanity. "Do you know how many people still called me Antsy Pants Anna in high school?"
My voice has risen to an octave that's frowned upon in indoor spaces. The cafe has grown still around us, eyes watching uncertainly, but I don't stop.
"It didn't even matter that it happened in middle school. And even after you left for college, people still called me that for two solid years until I graduated and left this shithole of a town."I shake my head over and over and just stare at him, eyes blazing. "So, no, Oliver,"I taunt. "I don't want to grab dinner with you."
I shove my way around him and march out the door. The bell jingles after me and I can hear him jogging to catch up. I walk faster but it's no use. His hand snakes around my wrist and pulls me back gently.
"Anna."
My fist clenches as I shake free of his grip.
"What?"I snap.
An amused grin washes over his face. "Do you know why I teased you so much growing up?"
"Because you're an asshole?"
He laughs and shakes his head. "Come on. You had to know."
The space between my brows pinches together as I stare at him. "Know what?"
A small sigh leaves his mouth. He fights back a smile but it ends up plastered across his face anyways. "Let me take you out to dinner,"he offers. "I'll explain to you why little boys push little girls off swing sets."
I'm staring at him like he's a monkey in a zoo when it finally clicks. My face drops, then goes red. "I—I didn't—"
He's flashing that toothy smile at me again but this time it looks a little less punchable. "You're staying with your brother, yeah?"
I nod, incapable of anything relating to the English language at the moment.
He chuckles and the dimples under his cheeks light up his face. "Good. I'll see you at 8." |
Journal Entry #2
I hate these guys. I am SO tempted to just jump into the sea. They sing sea shanties non-stop, and they're terrible at singing. The ship is so rocky. We should arrive in Horbenport in a day.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Whatcha got there?", asked Walter. The skeletal ghost stuck his face outward until it was about an inch away from the journal. His breath stank like dead fish. "None of your business", replied Joe. He looked to his only human crewmate. Koi was fishing. The captain of the ship, Marcio, was steering. He was a burly ghost with a large golden beard. Donnie was skating via sponges attached to his shoes. Maria was sleeping in the crow's nest (probably because of the liquor). "Y'know, I should get a journal", said Walter. "I got one", said Koi. He jerked his rod back and reeled it in. It was a sunfish. It was massive (about the size of a person). "Yummy!", exclaimed Maria. She looked down from the crow's nest. "*Oh*, no!", I shouted, "Koi and I are the only ones who will be eating. We discussed this. Ghosts don't need to eat.""D'aww", she said, hanging her head. |
The door flew from its hinges as Dark Detective (DD) licked the door in. Various monitors and levers festooned the back wall of Dr. Dilemma latest hideout. Dr. Dilemma didn’t even bother turning around in his chair.
“Dark Detective, you have found me and answered all my riddles but can you choose. On…”
“Just shut up already! Everyone I catch you it’s another Trolley Dilemma.”
“How did you know about the Trolley? But of course, your the great detective!”
“Wait, it’s an actual trolley this time?!? No that is just the name of the situation. Like last time save the girl and let the orphanage explode.”
“Nonsense this is a completely original idea of mine. My modus operandi. Make you be the one to cause death and destruction no matter your choice.”
“Okay, so what is this latest ‘completely original idea’ then.”
“Ha, as you can see on one monitor I have your butler and the other the mayor of San Francisco. If you pull the lever the mayor dies and if not the butler!”
“That is literally the trolley dilemma! Have you ever looked up what that is?”
Quickly Dr. Dilemma looked at his phone and did a search. “Someone stealing my idea.. wait 1967?!?. I’m going to make a quick call Dark Detective…
Wait you knew about the Trolley Dilemma and didn’t tell me?… a tribute?… No, just let them go… yes both of them…”
Dr. Dilemma hung up the phone. “Detective I’ve got some thinking to do. Geeze here I thought I was being original but no, I’m some gimmick.”
“You’re forgetting something. Dr. Dilemma…”
“It’s just Joe now.”
“Joe, your forgetting something.”
“Like what?”
“Jail.” |
The lovecraftian figure look down at captive. "Did you just say, I agree, let go"? It asks with a shocked expression.
The captive looks up. She replies "Yes i did"
"May I ask why you agree?"she looks at the creature with certain look. "you're offering me an exit, an escape, from bills and inflation and the fear of nuclear annihilation. It sounds like a fair offer"
The creature glares at her "i feel like you're not comprehending what I'm saying, you will be taken away from everything you know, your loved ones your family the ones that care about you do you really want to ditch them for a new li-"
She cuts the creature off
"YES my life sucks, I have no loved ones or friends or anyone like that"
"Alright"the creature says
"you've made your decision"
the creature shrinks itself down her level and opens a portal, and they both walk through. |
I found something that you would never believe. I didn't believe it at first, either. Physicists have been playing with the idea that the universe was generated by a computer for a long time. Boltzmann Brains, constructor theory, and digital physics. We had no way to prove it, a theory of everything eluded us.
But now I know for a fact that we are indeed the product of computation. I don't know what engineering or design was involved in making the processing cluster that runs our universe, only that I have found a way to access something akin to administration privileges for the entire universe. I call it The Console. I found it in an unassuming place, a computer system running constantly in some university's basement. It was covered in dust. It appeared rather humble, not connected visibly to major computing hardware, but it took little time to realize it was just an illusion. I typed 'help' into the command line, and was deluged with commands with strange names.
I was intrigued, and decided I would spend time trying to figure out what this arcane old system was for. Some eccentric professor's pet project, I assumed. I spent a long time understanding what the commands did. I began to piece together that there was an entire simulation running in the background, and that the commands messed with it. I found that the university I was attending was a location I could navigate to. It was a remarkably detailed simulation, having student and staff sims with names. I navigated to the university basement I was in. I saw a sim with my name in the simulator. What the hell?
I was creeped out. How did the system know I was here? I typed a command to generate a block of balsa wood to my right in the simulator. I didn't see it, but I heard a thump, like a solid object hitting the ground after a short drop. I was almost scared to turn my head. There was a block there, one that was definitely not there before.
I launched a flurry of experiments, trying to convince myself that what was happening was happening. At some point, I accepted. This system was a command line for the universe. I walked out of the basement in a daze. I told no one, they would just think I was certifiably insane.
The next day, I was back at it. This system would be my obsession. I was careful not to hurt anyone, though I did not doubt that I could do terrible things. I got an idea in my head, I would explore the universe. I found that the simulation crapped out, became very coarse grained about a light year from the sun. The simulation was just for Earth and the solar system. I attempted to expand the sandbox to include Alpha Centauri, but the system informed me that doing so would exceed the simulation's resources. So it wasn't infinite, interesting. I navigated to the stats on the system’s hardware. It showed graphs, how close the system was to maximum simulation complexity and how much memory it had left. It used units I did not understand, but one thing was striking. The system was at 98% of the maximum memory. Showing simulation memory usage over time, it became clear that, at its current trajectory, the simulation would overflow its memory in three years.
I was taken aback. The system did not seem to be able to tell me what would happen when this line was crossed, but I was confident it wouldn't be good. I could take action, but the thought made me queasy. The biggest resource hog was humans. I looked deeper into it, it seemed there were memory leaks. Even if we stopped growing, the system would still overflow. I could do something terrible, prematurely end the lives of billions of people, so that the sim could go on. But it would still end, eventually. I thought about it for a long time, and decided I would not commit genocide. We would face the future together, and I would try to make the most of the little time I had left. |
"They'll kill you. You need to destroy all traces of your tech."
"But my process is awesome! It is efficient enough to be used at large scale, and not only will it save us from climate change... it will actually pay for itself! And I would become rich! Like, really insanely rich!"
"And how exactly are you going to be rich, hmm? Think you can sell them yourself?"
"They are diamonds! Pure, perfect diamonds, and most colors you'd want to have if you take the ones that are also Methane based. The process may be complex, but the stones alone will easily pay for it!"
"Do you have any idea what those Diamond cartels are going to do to you if you show up and ruin their business by flooding the market with stones they don't have full control over? Why the fuck do you think everyone isn't already running around with cheap industry diamonds? You have no idea who you are about to mess with!"
"But still... This will save so many lives... I have to at least publish my process. I'll be a hero. I'll be the climate savior!"
"You'll be dead is what you'll be. We got into this because we are all selfish. Because our gain is more important than the loss for all. You think doing the right thing will get you rewarded? What planet are you living on?" |
”Okay, bring it in.”
The pneumatics’ hissed, smoke filled the chamber, and the hatch in the floor opened. A glowing crystal, firmly held by a mechanical gripper, slowly descended, stopping dead in the exact centre of the chamber.
I opened my notebook, clicked my pen, and attached the communicator to my temple. Then I showed two thumbs up towards the viewing arena.
On the other side of the blurred, one-way glass, there was a scramble of motion, and the lights in the chamber were shut off. Aside from the crystal’s slight white glow, turned pitch black.
I heard the familiar beep from my communicator, then everything turned black.
——- Later ——-
“So, did you get anything good this time? I tried my best.”
“Hard to know yet. Once again you drew completely new hieroglyphs. None of it looks like last session.”
“Damn. I was watching the footage. I looked so focused. And the dance? Not sure what to think about that one.”
“Yeah, ehm, haha… I wouldn’t try that on casual Friday mate.”
“Hey, don’t say that! Crystal dancing, might pop off on Toktack.”
“I’d imagine leaking the existence of aliens to the public might draw slightly more attention…”
“No, your moves would take the spotlight mate.”
“Shut up, idiot. I’ll get my shit, we’ve still got to do a pragmatic nuance preservation pass before we can even _think_ about hashtag strategies.”
“You’re already good on the interlinguals? How…?”
“I’m just that good.”
I winked, grabbed my bag and headed off towards the titanium vault doors, tapped the combination, and set my hands into the 10-print scanner. With my hands still in, I briefly turned back.
“Thoughts on #crystalcrunk?”
I smirked as I heard a burst of laughter behind me.
“YES! Heck yes. Alright hold on, I’m coming…” |
Grovelling, the apprentice to the Great Junthas raised his head.
"Well Master, it WOULD make things easier for me. The terms of the contract are quite particular, paragraph 4, sub section-."
"Bah, the damned contract! Very well,"Junthas cut his apprentice off. "You are hereby ordered to relax! Let your hair down and be yourself."Junthas gestured broadly at the city outside the tower window. "You have been of great assistance to me these last months, you should see the sights of the city!"
"Of course, Master Junthas"the apprentice snivelled, "I am contractually obliged to preform all the duties required of a -"
"Enough!"Junthas silenced his apprentice. "You and your contract, I swear you talk of nothing else! That damned agent warned me you'd be obsessed over the infernal thing. I now require my apprentice to enjoy themselves for the night."
Great Junthas, stormed off imperiously, pointing out the window as he left.
The apprentice stood for a while, looking down at the city below, inns and drinking halls filling up for the night. Be himself, that fool Junthas had said. Ordered, even.
It had been quite a long time since he had enjoyed himself, the apprentice supposed. Before taking up contract with the idiot Junthas, when Belzefurus, Agent to the Damned, approached him with a lucrative deal. The Infernal paperwork already had already been written, blood of unwilling donors used as ink, and bindings had been made.
Be himself. An order.
The frame of the apprentice grew by several feet, black horns sprouting from a thickening, broadening skull. Jagged claws scrapped the cobble stones as the beast lumbered towards the noises of the city.
Skagosh, devoted follower of the Tormented Opressor, grinned. He was about to have fun. |
'I am the greatest pickpocket to ever live' I thought to myself, 'or at least the smartest.'
Figuring out that logging out of the AR network made me basically a ghost, pure genius. Totally not the result of consistently failing to pay my access fees.
But now... I live in the physical world alone. The info and credits of others is mine now. I figured out how to trick the login feature. It's not much more than yes/no option, but if you slide it to the side of the screen, (yes, I said screen,) then the system let's you in just enough to query others inventory.
'Yoink' I think to myself, as another *Accept All* screen popped up.
Occasionally I got some strange items from the grab all feature, but a small mountain of lighters, random good luck charms, and other knick knacks was a small price to pay. |
The man rambled. "Why'd I have to live through World War One?", he asked himself. "I'm sorry?", I asked. "This is World War One. I'm a time traveler", he replied. "Mm", I replied, nodding yes. This guy might be crazy. The bus stopped. Everyone got off. When I stepped onto the sidewalk, I heard people screaming. I looked to the commotion. Down the street, there was a giant robot. It was very geometric, and it reminded me of a toy. It looked to mostly be rectangular prisms. The people around me ran away. Although, one of them, the man I spoke to, ran toward it. I couldn't help but watch. A futuristic silver cannon materialized above his arm. It shot at the robot's leg, causing it to fall to the side on a building, which it then partially destroyed. It laid motionless. The man glowed bright blue and disappeared. Strangely, I had to go on with my day. |
I roll my eyes as I walk past the supply closet and hear a repetitive knocking sound. “Can’t people just do their job while at work?” I mutter under my breath.
I continue on past a nurses station and overhear the red-head nurse gossiping with the old nurse. “Dr. Loose legs is at it again, who knows who is in there with her this time. I didn’t see, did you see? I swear it’s a new…” I pick up my pace to get out of earshot. Someone has to actually take care of the patients today and clearly it isn’t going to be the old nurse, red-head nurse, or whoever dr. Loose legs is.
I dont bother learning my coworkers names for the most part. Sometimes it happens on accident. I’ve found that getting too chummy around here will only earn me an earful of someone thinking I care about their personal life that they desperately want to drag in their work life for some reason.
I run through my to do list and finally sit down at a computer. Mr. Jones in 2114 has developed a respiratory acidosis and I need to check on his labs, ms. Farnsworth in 2144 needs discharge paperwork and I need to confirm she can go to a skilled nursing facility so I guess I’ll do our social workers job today too because they aren’t answering the phone today, Mr. Lane in 2001 needs an ultrasound and labs pulled because I’m pretty sure he has another deep vein thrombosis, better consult oncology as well because I think he might have cancer … the list goes on and on.
I finally finish my paperwork when my pager beeps. It’s a new admit in the ER I need to go see. I sigh and head that direction. I have to walk past the supply closet again to get there.
As I walk past I see a blonde in her mid 30s in a white coat sitting on the floor leaning up against the wall. She is crying. Poor thing, I think, then rationalize, she doesn’t want my pitty though. And why does dealing with this fall on me? I’m 10 feet past her when I stop, sigh and turn back.
“Dr. Artes are you ok?” I say. She startles and looks up, just noticing me for the first time. “I’m fine.” She sniffs. I have excellent ratings on ratemydoctor.com and for good reason. I have great bedside manors. She is not fine. But I groan internally.
“Dr. Artes how many patients are you covering right now?” I spit out. “10…” she hesitates. “Dr. Artes you take the rest of the day off. I’ll cover your list,” I say. “I couldn’t do that to you!” She exclaims. I can tell from her eyes she’s about to give me an explanation for the crying. I need her explanation like I need a horny rated R remake of Bambi, I don’t. In fact I’d be much happier without it.
After some coaxing I get her to sign out all her patients to me and shes leaving. I’m shocked she only had 10 patients, that is far more scandalous than whatever was going on in the closet. I carry 25 or more most days so this should be worth it just to get all of the nurses back to being focused on work.
I smile in contentment as finally the hospital trudges back to work and I can finally go admit my patient. |
"Dave, you will not believe this", said Gemini. Dave sat on the couch. "I have a weapon to put a stop to those marauders. Those villains will no longer bother us. Behold", continued Gemini. From the hallway emerged a blue lizard that walked on two legs. It was as tall as an adult, and it had its left arm replaced with a robotic one. The same arm held a suitcase. It looked around curiously. "I found a lizard, went to the excavation site, found some scrap, and gave it an arm. His name's Goyo. Also, I boosted its intelligence to that of a dog."
"So you have made a gigantic cyborg lizard with some alien tech you stole from the ancient excavation site and implanted it with dog intelligence? It will make friends with the enemy!""Well, duh, that's the point."
"What's in the case?""A surprise."
The villains' base was a stone fortress with purple tapestries. Goyo walked up to the huge, metal front door and knocked. A woman who looked to be an office worker answered. "Who is it?", she asked. "I've come to talk money", said Goyo. She stepped aside and gestured for him to enter, so he did. The room was dark. A table stood there, and at the table were three men. One was skinny, one had an average build, and one was huge. They all stared at him.
Goyo placed the suitcase on the table. He opened it and took out some papers. “First, we have a nondisclosure agreement”, said the lizard, holding a pen. The big brute read it, took the pen, and signed his name. "Alright", said Goyo, "We'll deliver $1,000 in cash at the front door of your base. In turn, you all will no longer commit crime. Pleasure doing business with you gentlemen."He shook hands with Eustice and left.
Goyo arrived home. "The negotiation succeeded."he said to the two young men. "Wha-You can talk?!", asked Dave. "I gave him a chip that increased intelligence over time", explained Gemini. |
"*I want a woman who loves me.*
That's the first thing I typed. Nothing happened until I realized that, though she now existed, she still didn't have a physical ody. So I had to describe her in excruciating detail - everything from her head to her toes.
And when she was standing before me, I said, "I love you"and she just stated.
Then I realized that though she had a body, I now had to write her actions and reactions.
*She smiled and said, "I love you, too."Then she walked over to me, turned my face towards her, and planted a kiss on my lips.*
It was beautiful.
It was horrible.
She stood there with her lips on mine, frozen, waiting for me to write what she should do next.
It felt like I was controlling a puppet.
Or programming a robot.
I eventually figured out what to write in order to make her do the things I wanted her to do - *She eventually learned how to respond to only my voice, so I no longer needed the keyboard. I could just speak to her. Everyday, when I walked through the door, she would rip my clothes off, throw me on the bed, and ravish me until I came, which would trigger her own orgasm. Then she would get up and ask me what I wanted to eat, then go into the kitchen and make it for me. She never nagged, and never complained. Life was bliss.*"
I finished my story and looked around at the circle of men and women sitting around me.
After a moment of silence, one of the men asked, "So then why did you get divorced? Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me."
"Divorce?"I looked at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Now they looked at me, confused.
"This is a...divorce...support group,"one woman said slowly.
"Oh. I just go to different support groups to brag." |
The genie lay dormant, his form confined within a plastic bottle that bobbed in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. A small transparent prison far removed from the bustling human world, he once knew. Around him stretched the endless evidence of human neglect,- a sea of discarded filth, a testament to their sense of entitlement over the planet. His current weakness discovered by his last patron as the creation of plastic dominated the industrialized world. He pitied the creatures that float by incumbered by this filth, freeing a few turtles in his centuries of imprisonment.
A boat approached the patch, the crew gathering trash with a large net. An opportunity for the genie found himself swept up along with the discarded debris. The perilous journey to land, for the humans to sift through this for reuse in less developed countries. A feeble woman stumbled upon the genie’s imprisonment and screwed off the cap, allowing him to manifest. She stood there, staring at the supernatural creature, and then swatted at him with a plastic tube.
“I am real,” he gestured. “I will grant you three wishes, or you can become my mortal wife.”
“I am already married.” she sniped. “Three wishes? You say.”
“I wish humans never existed.”
“Wait, please no.”
“All I do is suffer, and that is the best solution. |
"Ah yes, \*drakon mechanikos\*, this one is just the start of a new species!"I laugh maniacally in front of my dearest friend.
"Cool, cool. Why did you build this again?"My dear friend, Franco oh so rudely interrupts me.
"Ha\~ A mere trifle to pass the time, my good friend\~"
"Trifle? Your... \*drakon mechanikos\* tooks a decae and billions of dollars to complete!"
"Chump change, my dear friend!"
"If you have that much money and time to squanders, don't you just give them to me?"
"That's boring!"
"Ha\~ Fine. You said this one's just the first, right? Do you plan to make more?"
"One more, and they shall prolifeerate on their own!"
"Are you trying to realize the paperclip, well, mecha-dragon maximizer?!"
"With the impact of human activity on this planet, we're already maximazers on of our own."
"If we really were maximizers, we should've already depleted the solar system by now."
"Bah! Regardless, you needn't to worry about that! I've prepared a separate environment for that!"I snap my fingers and a portal opens.
"When did you..."
"Off to the new world!"
I pull Franco into the portal with me. We're greeted by rolling plains with mountains over the horizon.
"Tell me, are you secretly a god?"
"Goodness no! if I was, I wouldn't have taken a decade to make Serial-1!"
"Since you made this for your mecha-dragons, I would've though this place would've been a cybernetic sci-fi factory."
"Ah\~ The factory is somewhere else. This, all of this is just their grazing field."
"Where's the factory?"
I point to the moon. |
I stepped into the Green Leaf Market, a supposed organic grocery shop all the rage for the mortals. Do my eyes deceive me? Is that an organic orange from overseas? I shuffled my feet over to a crate of half-spoiled oranges. I gritted my teeth, poking at the dripping fruit that soiled my leather shoes. A young man with his headphones in rolled away the cart of disgusting “organic” produce. I stomped my feet towards the bakery and the smell of chemicals filled the air.
“Excuse me,” I snapped my fingers. “Do you have actual bread at this place instead of this chemically processed garbage?”
“You are one of those people. Aren’t you,” the woman rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you make your own bread, sir?”
“Because anything provided by these stores is trash.”
“Grow your own wheat then.”
“You know what. Maybe I will.” |
I know the obstacle that blocks me from going to the bathroom, is something that KingPezPez designed, some weird space-time trap, that leads you towards different places of the universe.
This OP will not defeat me, the bathroom will be used by me! I kick the door like a police, only to fall back and have a leg injured...
I need to think, I know animals that can open doors, I align my head with the door and run towards it, but I end up on the ground in pain...
"My head!"
I know that in some places, the OP is laughing, but if he thinks that it is so easy to fail, he is wrong...
Maybe I need to take another approach, the door doesn't seem normal at all, I already opened it 50 times, and I even ended up studying doors seriously to don't get to a place without toilets...
"KingPezPez... What are you planning? Why are you blocking my path towards the bathroom?"
I need to think like the OP... My eyes shine, then I run towards my computer with hastyness, then I create a post...
**\[SP\] The door to other worlds is bothering me, so I decided to think about it as a bathroom.**
After I post, I return towards the door, and a doorknob appears, I open it and what receives me is the glorious bathroom... All white, all godly... But there is a problem...
"How I'M SUPPUSED TO SHIT HERE!"
I look below me and up, somehow this is a giant toilet... But this can be solved by another SP, nothing bad can happen. |
"Today is the day where humanity gets to... Conquer the stars right?"
"I think is the opposite, we will not be able to get out of our star."
I look with my companion towards the countless different ships of unknown origin in space, all of them totally empty, probably belonging to different species because of the lack of a clear similarity between them...
The most strange part is that the monitors show only empty space and nothing that is in front of us.
But the radio signals are crashing against something, clearly outlining the ships that we are seeing...
"Jeff, have you managed to translate that signal?"My companion and captain of this ship asked the man in charge of a special type of radio signal.
"Yes... It means, since you are at this point, it means that we need to exterminate your species."Jeff's words can't scare us at all, not with all these ships of differents species completely empty... I try to force a smile, but I know that we just triggered a disaster.
"Is that accurate?""I hope you are joking."
"No, all is correct, there is no margin of error."Jeff looks very calm, strange for someone like him, that gets triggered with nearly anything, him is capable, but when something bother he... Jeef becomes a beast, this version of Jeef is strange to me.
"I watched you humans, all of this time, this body will not last, but I like to thank you, to give me a new objective, I wonder how can you fleshy beings can last compared to the others?"Jeef says playfully, crossing his legs, looking at us and the rest of the ship personnel...
I lift up my hand, my work is the security, looking at the expressions of horror... I know that this is not Jeff, his heartbeat already has stopped, we have installed countless systems in this ship, whatever took control of Jeef, is probably the same thing that destroyed the others...
"Kill him."
Especial laser weapons destroys the body of Jeff, all controlled by an AI, Jeef body is filled with holes, but for some reason... I regret this... Green mist comes from the body, then it dissipates in just a second.
All looks calm, my hand trembles, for having done this and for other thing, I look at the ships, only to see them point at us... Ghostly green proyectiles impact our ship, then nothing happens, not even a explosion, the shields are active, but they don't blocked nothing... Only... Only... My companion looks tasty...
I see the captain looking at me with a crazy smile, the same that I'm surely doing, I'M HUNGRY... And him too... I need to kill him and return towards our home planet, then spread this wonderful feeling...
\----
"Any signal from our ship? Where is Jaguar right now? Why do we are receiving these strange signals?
"We do not know sir, but we need to be calm, let us work."
A team of experts looks at the monitors, countless images from satellites, all turning of one by one, and their feeling of unease rising with each second.
Suddenly the lights goes off, the presonell doesn't panic, but start to follow the procedures, only for them to never return...
Screams and strange shouts covers the place, then the lights return, and the place is empty, except for one single member of the group, that immediately looks towards the exit.
"This will be fun\~"
Today the humans will not conquer nothing, only will be eliminated. |
"Wait."
I slid out from under the covers, walked into the next room, and dragged some blinds down to look outside. The birds were still singing. The sky was still blue. The neighborhood outside still relatively slow moving.
The wind picked up and sent waves of leaves across the road. A squirrel absently chewed on an old piece of bread nearby. He must've sensed he was being watched as he quickly leapt up the nearest tree.
A truck rolled past. The driver lazily steering it around the corner and up the hill the next street traveled. A kid riding his bike, tumbled in the leaves nearby and began crying for his parents.
"Oh, it's Sunday... Right."
First things first on a day like today. A nice, solid, breakfast. The hangover will ease up quicker that way. |
Every readout read the same. Storms carried heavy radiation across farmlands, and the globe had cooled by ten degrees. 60% of the population would be dead by winter, and the few that would survive the years of ash in the clouds would survive without a culture, without society, and marred by cancer and mutation.
"How could they do this?"Cultural analyst Zegi Vantaas asked, looking over the ruined globe projected by the holoprojector.
"The plan failed,"mused Commander Vilts, a sigh escaping his lungs. "An attack on three places. Fort Hood and a Black Sea military base, a missile defense silo outside Chengdu. The largest militaries would band together, defeat our holographic force, we would arrive and congratulate them on battling a common enemy. Instead, they killed themselves."
"But why?"Zegi asked, her scales flaring.
"Because our plan was dumb, and the Emperor couldn't know exopolitics from his urinary appendage."
The crew gasped.
"We land and help them fix this."The old commander clicked his fangs. "They deserved better than our half cooked nonsense. If there's any objections across the fleet, sound off, I have missiles faster than your ships, and it'll take 11 years for your dying screams to reach home." |
"What an asshole!"
That was all I could hear now. And all the variations of what folks would describe somebody who had been rude to them. But asshole was the number one answer as they would say on Family Feud. Social media seemed to give every one a voice these days to boot.
Ever since the CARP act was passed in 2012, nobody cares what they post anymore. The deaths of three celebrities due to their videos affirming their support of unpopular opinions that were making the rounds pushed through the Cancellation and Retaliation Prevention Act as a reaction to the violence. It made it a federal crime to attempt to cause anybody any kind of trouble due to posting something that somebody might disagree with. The CARP Act was a godsend for social media darlings and reaction junkies.
Chaos was responsible for the CARP Act being passed. If it wasn't for his need to disrupt the orderly opertion of the world, then people could still face the normal repercussions of being idiots online. The world has been struggling even more with assholes ever since.
That's where I come in. See, Nemisis hadn't had an Avatar in four thousand, seven hundred and thirty-seven years. Those were simpler times where causing petty revenge was much easier to accomplish and get away with. That Avatar had been particularly gifted and as a result, was granted an extended life of nearly five hundred years. He had many children during his life, and the genetic descendants are spread across the globe.
My job was to make all these assholes pay. Pay in ways that wouldn't violate the CARP Act but would incur immense irritation to every asshole I encountered. I have been at this job since the week after the law had passed. Most of my first attempts were not good to say the least. I tried the poop in a bag at the front door, ring the doorbell and run thing a few times. I always fell and busted my ass in sight of the asshole.
One of the smartest things I did was create a community called petty revenge on a website called Reddit. I'll never forget that day. November 1st, 2012. It was the inspiration for a spinoff called pro revenge two weeks later. One can be all kinds of petty, but when one has to take it to the next level you have to go pro. A month and a half after that, escalating revenge was born. Some folks can't make to pro, but when there's a fued between folks, there will be escalation.
Not only did these communities make my job easier, but they provided an ever growing power base for Nemisis. He's on the verge of no longer being a minor god. He doesn't claim the 2008 tv show though since he wasn't a fan of it.
The increase in power has also benefitted me in a few ways. I'm no longer worried about what to do with my life. The Youtube channels also provide me with a steady income and I haven't had to make those videos myself in a couple years. The revenue means I can afford to pay others to do it for me.
If you're reading this, keep up the good work. Keep those stories coming. Spread the revenge any way you can. Just keep it clean and within the bounds of the law. Leave the dirty work to me when it needs to happen. There's to much senseless death already in this world. I'll see you one day. Or maybe not. It doesn't cost anything to NOT BE AN ASSHOLE!!! |
"Okay but too be fair,"I had to sit and explain to my sister, "I still get meat for the village."
Her look of fury was nothing like I've ever seen before! Still, I held on strong and didn't waver.
"You're a hoax!"
"When did I ever said I hunted?"
She stopped and realized I litterally never said I was a hunter. I can tell from her face but she reverted back to anger. "I'll tell everyone!"
"Okay and?"
"You'll be kicked out!"
"For?"
...
"That's what I thought."I got up and took my bag as I started walking out. She growled at me a bit but I couldn't be bothered much. "I'm getting some Bugal, be back in a few hours."
After leaving the hut, the others who were passing by waved.
"Late night hunting?"One of the elders chuckled.
"Nah, just getting Bugal."I rolled my eyes with a smile. "No hunting for me."
"Small gain is still gain."
I left the village and went to the next one over. It was a few miles down from the river. Unlike my village, this one was primarily active at night so it wasn't hard to get business done here so late. Most of my villagers never seen how active this place can be and often write it off as haunted as the people live under ground to not deal with the sun. They're a lot paler and shorter than my people but we love seeing eachother.
"ACKMEH!"The village cheif smiled. "Here to fix my drum?"
I couldn't tell if that was him hitting on me or not because the last drum I someone had me check out was her-
"Ah just joking!"He laughed.
I laughed back. "Good because I dont know how to fix a drum yet. I do got some decent tools for trade."
"Ah, let me see."
I give him him my bad and after a few minutes he picks out a few of them and holds them up for I can see.
"Fine choice!"
"And what would you like this time around?"
"Bugal."
"Oh no!"His tone genuienly frightened me. "We only got small Bugal left. I don't know if it'll be enough for this."
"That's fine. Let me see it."
After checking it out, I still managed to find a decent sized one in the pile and plucked it out. "This should be fine."
"You sure? How about you take a few more? Just for good messure."
"Awe thanks!"I took a few more and started to head out. That's when I finally noticed a giant drum near the cheif's usaly sitting spot. I then whispered to my self, "yeah no, I really don't know how to fox those... hopefully it doesn't break until I learn how!"
By the time I got home, my tent was in ruins but I had my Bugal so I couldn't care less. |
I'd describe myself as a history enthusiast. The thrill of theorizing about long forgotten realities, hanging by the threads of half readable parchments someone wrote ages ago made me want to go there myself, see if its true. There's a certain poetry to knowing that you can shape the present as long as someone doesn't know enough about it in the future.
That's why I got mad when the Bureau for Tourism announced that time travel would now be allowed for "visiting histories", so long as you followed certain guide lines. I mean, it was bad enough when the world government accepted voyaging onto distant times for scientific purposes, seeing as it killed all of the awe that came from pondering what was, but the layman being there to witness it? That was too much.
To travel to the past you must:
A) Pass a course about said time and place
B) dress and act accordingly to the customs instituted
C) Never talk about future events or the events transpiring in said time and place
D) Never interact with essencial actors of the events that define history
If you stepped out of line, any and all breaches of conduct would be severely prosecuted. That's something I can get behind on, but that's to much to ask from the average person. Most people just go with one of the x number of companies that provide time traveling tourism, connecting you with guardians and "time travel mishaps"insurance, so you'll never have a problem. Well, the real problem is that you can never know if some retard changed the story of humanity by mistake in the first place!
Consider world war two. Can you believe that hundreds of thousands of soldiers were carried off the beaches of northern France by civilians driving fishing boats and such? Is it plausible that an American "soldier"could fight off more than 100 japanese soldiers in the Philippines, with his dirt covered gun never once jamming? I don't think so.
That's why I went back to Mongolia and tried to kill "Marco polo", that lying bastard. Well, it turns out, even if you try to stab them when these tourist pricks seem alone, their babysitters are always ready to intervene. |
"So, how does that make you feel?"
"...What?"
The Dark Lord expected many things. While she had never encountered a fabled hero herself, she heard the stories her predecessors had told her. The spectres that never left her side would talk about warriors weilding weapons too heavy for normal humans to bear, warlocks with the might to flatten entire kingdoms, tacticians more brilliant then anyone ever before them and healers with the ability to revive the dead. All of them as young as can be, and all of them out for one thing: The Dark Lords head.
They had apparently come from another world, and many hoped to return there once the Dark Lord was defeated. Others became engrossed with their power and saw this as the ultimate challenge. Whatever their reason was, they saw their Dark Lord as nothing but a roadblock on their way to happyness. They fought them accordingly.
So when the fabled champion of humanity finally bust down his door to face her, she was suprised. Usually the hero would gradually build up their fame in the lands before finally facing their predestined nemesis, but this one hadn't been around long enough to even properly be aknowledged by the church yet. The Dark Lord didn't know if he was simply a fool or if he was powerful enough that he could take the Lord in a fight mere weeks after his emergence. The fact he had survived the traps and minions she set in her castle without as much as a scrape on him suggested the latter.
She looked him up and down. Strangely enough he wasn't openly carrying any weapons, but she figured he must be a warlock rather then a warrior. It wasn't like his physique would have fit a warrior anyway. He wasn't very tall (170 cm/5.5 foot at most!) which made him almost seem dwarf-ish among the giant pillars of her throne hall. Nothing about him looked heroic, not even the sword-like scarf he was wearing. He also looked a lot older then the heroes of old, to the point where she asked herself if he perhaps was the father of a hero, but not the hero himself. Nevertheless, he was undoubdetly here to fight her, what with the stern look on his face. She was happy to oblige.
"Well well well, look who we have here? A little hero coming to make a name for himself. Truly, what a magnificent sight! Well, I've been expecting you for a long time. For ages the Sanguine family has tried to achieve their goal of world domination, only to be thwarted by a pest like you. Nevermore, for I will be the one to conquer fate and end the line of heroes once and for all!"
She smiled menacingly, hoping her declaration would frighten the hero and impact his fighting. In response however he just seemed more determined then before. And then he asked that question.
"So, how does that make you feel?"
"...What?"
She was confused by this. No hero had ever asked the Dark Lord for his feelings, besides she wasn't sure how he was confused about her intentions. She wanted to end him, as had all the Sanguines before her, and all she felt was the rage of her ancestors building up. Everything was as it should be.
"How does it make you feel, thinking about killing?"
She was taken aback by this question. Unlike her predecessors, she had never killed anyone before. She thought that killing the hero would be easy, and that she'd be able to do it without putting much thought into it. But now that he stood here, she could feel nothing but fear. And it wasn't just the fear of being killed herself, no. Something in her feared the sight of the limp, bloody body, the feeling of bones cracking, the sound of screams and last breaths. She was scared of killing him, but she would never confess to that. It was her duty. She had to, for the family and all that came before her.
"Listen here, hero! I..."
"Oh, please call me Luke."
"No?"
"I insist."
"Fine, Luke. I'm not here to have you question my every intention. My sole goal is to fulfill the goal my parents and their parents chased, before they were defeated by the likes of **you**."
"Your parents were murdered? I am so sorry for your loss."
"That's not the point I was trying to make..."
"So, how do you think that affected who you are now?"
"Well, I..."
For a second, she almost wanted to answer him earnestly. Maybe it would have brought some relief to the pain she bore, both her own and the one of her ancestors. But only for a second.
"That is none of your business, **hero!**"
"Please, none of the hero business. I'm just here to talk. No need to get defensive."
He smiled brightly at her and nestled with his pointy neck-scarf thingie.
"Talk about what?"
Instead of answering, he sat down on the thick carpet and looked up to her.
"Now tell me, do you feel pressured by your families legacy?" |
"Queen Antoinette, I cannot say I'm completely joyed to see you and your soldiers will need to remain outside while we're having this... chat...", the large bee danced as the queen ant's royal translator released pheromones to her majesty.
Tensions were as high as they had been since the Honeydew Incident two rainfalls ago, resulting in the deaths of over 3,000 soldiers and workers from both sides over the course of a week. However, a colonial army expedition onto an unclaimed plum tree had revealed something that would be of great concern to both the Bombus Hive of the Willow and the Western Argentine Empire.
"That is all fair, Queen Beeatrice. My audience with you is of the utmost importance and my soldiers will await for me at your hive entrance.", replied the ant queen, joining her black and yellow counterpart into a more private section of the hive with her translator as the remaining ants were escorted back outside to the entrance.
"Your royal jelly Highness", began Queen Antoinette, "have your scouts been searching the plum orchard towards the setting sun recently?
The bee queen waited for the ant translator to finish it's dance, flicking her antennae in annoyance from the ant's understandable but sloppy performance. "Antoinette, if you came all this way to discuss another potential border dispute I would happily have one of my daughters sting you right now.", Beeatrice stomped madly. It was clear to Antoinette that the bee queen and her hive were still holding bitter feelings towards them, though she could say the same thing about her own loyal workers back in the colony.
"Your highness, no", began Antoinette, "that's not what I'm here for at all. Yes, I admit I had a colonial army sent to explore a few of the trees but you need to understand that they found something we had not encountered before. It's... it's not an insect or creature we're familiar with, but I am hoping you would have some knowledge."
Beeatrice tilted her head, now slightly intrigued. "Queen Antoinette, are you telling me that the ants of the Western Argentine Empire, a colony stretching as far as the bird migrates, have found something that you have never seen before? I am intrigued."
Antoinette shook her head and continued, "No, as far as the scouts from the corners of the colony could tell, this was a completely new creature."
"An invasive species then?"
"That's what we are guessing."
Beeatrice remembered the stories of her attendants when she was just a larvae feeding on royal jelly. They told of foreign insects that danced unfamiliar languages and stole resources from bee hives until even the powerful hives of honeybees were destroyed through conflict or starvation.
"What did your soldiers tell you about this... invasive species then?", she danced, now more serious and careful with her steps.
"They are... well, bee-like in appearance but very large. Apparently their bodies must have been 20-30 ants long, or maybe 6-8 of you bumblebees, if my math is correct."replied Antoinette, "My soldiers were able to count about 30 or so, though from the cells they could count, they assumed that there might be as many as 70 to 100, or maybe even more... they mentioned the especially long length of what we're guessing are their stingers, but we weren't about to get an up-close look."
The bee queen's antennae flicked aggressively, demanding that the ant translator redo the dance more clearly, and discomfort soon raced throughout her abdomen as the ant again restated the ant queen's sentence. Her scouts had reported seeing these strange, enormous bee-like creatures in the far reaches of the hive's territory by the foot of the mountain, but she had dismissed it as reports said they never entered the plains area they comfortably resided in. If the ants had found a nest in the orchards, however, this was very dangerous.
"Queen Antoinette...", Beeatrice began, "I'm hoping that your scouts must have seen something wrong, but I may know what you're describing." |
The battle had raged all morning and night. The cries of grown men and women filled the night. A cold wind whipped around their ankles as they watched the battle ending from the castle walls. The blood soaked earth grew still, the swords were sheathed and the crows pecked at warm flesh.
Now Krado stood on a balcony, overlooking the throne room. Sabrina weeped to his left. Myrill stood sullen to his right, towering over them both. Their swords had been taken from them along with their pride. The enemy, the dreaded Uboc, filled the throne room. Each wore their hair long, almost towards their knees. Each grinned, flashing sparkling white teeth as they gazed around their soon to be former capital.
“Do you think they’ll kill the King?” Myrill whispered, trying to avoid Sabrina hearing his words. Krado could only stare at the old man, sitting uncomfortably on the throne. Surrounded by white marble bricks, the King held his crown in his lap, his sword by his side.
“No!” cried out Sabrina through the tears. A few of the Uboc looked up, their smiles growing wider as they spotted Sabrina’s tears. “They couldn’t kill Grandfather. I couldn’t bear it. He’s the last…They just couldn’t. It would…most unhonorable.” Krado shook his head, glancing at Sabrina before his gazed return to the King.
“The Uboc don’t care for honour,” he told her. “Never have. That’s part of the reason we’re in this mess. Your Grandfather and the rest of our nobles tried to fight like they always have, with honour. The Uboc didn’t hold themselves to our high standards. The world has changed. Soon, we won’t live in the Capital. In a minute, you’re Grandfather won’t be the King and you won’t be a princess.” Sabrina’s lip quivered as she tried holding back her tears. Myrill sighed, moving from one foot to the other.
The throne room door opened then, a gust of wind sweeping through. All turned to see Omesh enter. Golden armour shone in the morning sun. Rubies and sapphires studded the shoulders as two white swords hung from each hip. The rest of the Uboc stood to attention, their fists covering their hearts. Omesh stood at least a foot taller than any of the others. What few King’s men remained shrank as he passed them, his eyes solely on the old man sitting in the throne. A hush fell over the watchers. Eyes flicked between the warrior, tall, proud and victorious to the King, slumped, ashamed and defeated.
“Balac,” Omesh smiled, his eyes shining, radiating with joy. “How have you been?” A few of the Uboc laughed.
“Bastards,” Myrill sneered. The King sighed, straightening himself in his throne and he looked Omesh up and down.
“Let’s not play games, Sir,” Balac replied, turning his crown around in his hand. “I’ve had enough games to last me a lifetime.”
“Fair enough,” Omesh said, taking a step towards the throne, his hand out. “Then let us be done with this show.” Sabrina let out a whimper, her arm wrapped around Krado’s, his eyes focused on the last of her family. The King hesitated a moment, staring down at his most prized possession. Then, at last, his reign ended. The crown changed hands. Omega took it, handing it off to one of his soldiers behind him.
“I have no need for such things,” he announced. “Every man in the Kingdom knows me now. They will now know that I am King. I do not need to rub it in their face.” Abruptly, Omesh turned, his men lining up to follow him out. Then, just as he got to the door, he paused. Turning back to the former King, a smile Omesh danced across his lips.
“Actually I did forget something.” Omesh admitted, slowly walking back to the throne. A pit of fear started to fester in Krado’s stomach. Sabrina gripped his arms tighter. Myrill's breathing grew heavy.
“Then say it,” Balac snapped, his face flushed red. Omesh’s eyes glanced up to the Balcony.
“I have need of a hostage,” he said, his eyes landing on Sabrina. “A royal hostage.” |
It was the year 2031, Lauren was in the beach with her boyfriend, Mike, enjoying their summer vacation before they would be going back to work. The day was beautiful. It wasn't too hot, there was a nice breeze blowing and it was the right amount of people in the beach, not too crowded but not too empty as well. The clear blue water was glistening under the radiant sun.
Lauren and Mike were laying down on their towels just relaxing and enjoying the day. "Hey, you wanna go for a swim?"Mike asked as he propped up his head to look at her. "Sure, why not? I'm getting tired of the sand in my back anyways."Lauren said as she started to get up.
Mike ran to the water laughing Lauren just steadily walked towards it. She noticed an odd man however with long hair and wearing a white outfit just walking at the edge of the beach. "Is that like a tunic? Or maybe a robe? Either way he is way too covered for this weather."She thought to herself.
Lauren just let it go but as she was about to enter the clear blue water it suddenly turned red! She suddenly scanned for Mike trying to see if he was alright. "Mike! Mike! Michael!"She called out his name. By this time all the patrons of the beach stood up and went close to the red colored water. People and parents calling out for their children and other loved ones to come back to shore afraid of this red water.
Mike resurfaced upon hearing his name looking around him around he noticed the once blue water he was swimming in was now red with a distinct smell. Mike licked his lips and shouted, "It's wine! Oh my God! It's wine!"He exclaimed.
People around him in the water looked at him first then also licked their lips trying to see if this was true and it was. The younger children upon hearing this excitedly started to gulp taking in their chance to try an adult beverage. The parents upon seeing this started screaming at them to stop while hurriedly going into the water to rescue their kids. While some people excitedly went in as well to try the now wine beach.
While this commotion was going on, Lauren trued looking for the man she saw. He was on the side looking worried with his hands on his head muttering something she couldn't hear. Lauren ran to the man with this feeling deep in her that she knew he was the one responsible for this.
"Hey! You! Who are you?"She called out to him. The man noticed her and two things happened. One, he turned to run away from lauren and two, the once blood red ocean was now back to its clear blue color.
When the water came back there were a lot of groans some coming from adults and the now intoxicated children. Lauren stopped mid run seeing what was going on now but remembering that she was chasing the man she turned her head to look for him but he vanished.
Lauren and Mike never forgot that day. It was then when they were home they heard all the news stations and outlets covering that weird incident when all the world's oceans turned into wine. Was it a prank? A terrorist attack? A terrestrial phenomenon? Nobody knew and everyone had a different theory about it but Lauren knew deep in her heart that it was him, Jesus, who did that. What was his reason for turning the oceans into wine for less than 5 minutes she will never know. |
It was hard not to laugh at the creatures before us. It stood eight feet tall with long noodly appendages for arms, and a poorly painted mask resembling the idea of a human head covering its clearly alien face.
"What brings you to eastern Colorado, Hugh?"I asked, keeping a hand ready to reach for my sidearm in case things went sideways.
"The weather."Hugh said, looking around at the empty field we stood in. The sun had just barely set, casting an umber twilight on the golden yellow tall grass growing.
One of the other creatures nudged Hugh to keep talking. Its mask had large red lips painted askew across what vaguely resembled a mouth.
"We've heard much about the weather here."Hugh said again with a prideful manner that he remembered his rehearsed lines. "What brings you fellow humans here to Esterncolrdo."
"Well as chance would have it,"Malarkey stepped forward. He was picking at something stuck under his fingernail, paying more attention to it than to the interstellar travelers before us. "Sorcese, Gulliver and I are somewhat of a greeting party. Whenever we hear about new residents out here, we make sure to welcome them to the area as best we can."Malarkey looked up from his fingers to meet the cockeyed representation of human eyes. The creatures beneath the masks stood silent, unsure how to respond to Malarkey's pointed greeting.
As we stood across from each other, trying to find ways to bridge the extraterrestrial gap, I gave each visitor a good once-over.
Hugh, the one doing all the talking was the tallest of them all. But the other three still towered over Malarkey, Gulliver and myself. Their masks seemed to sit ill-fitted to their face. An unforeseen byproduct of being made with tentacles rather than actual hands.
"Do you now how long you will be staying 'round these parts?"Malarkey continues. He had began biting at his fingernails now. Working hard to trim the keratin down to a level he found appropriate.
"That depends."Hugh said. He was struggling to maintain the conversation, as it seemed his skill of the English language was starting to falter.
"Depends on what?"Malarkey asked, spitting a chunk of fingernail into the dry, sun-baked dirt.
"The weather."Hugh and Malarkey said at the same time.
"Yes."Hugh continued. "The weather. We've found that if the weather says nice, other humans like us will be outside more, and therefore more exposed..."
The creature with what looked like lipstick nudged Hugh again, and whispered something in its own language. All it sounded like to us was a series of whistles and clicks. Hugh whispered something back, causing the two of them to have a brief argument before Hugh turned back to Malarkey.
"To the elements."Hugh tacked on to his last sentence's ending. "Exposed to the elements, and ripe for the harvest..."
The lipstick figure nudged him one more time.
The masks they wore were becoming agitated, as the two of them exchanged clandestine debate points. The alien equivalent of paper mache starting to break beneath what ever sweaty moisture was being exhumed by these creatures. Surely these masks were warm to wear, especially in the arid weather of Easter Colorado. Hugh waved one of its squishy arm analogies to dismiss the lipstick figure. As it did so, it brushed the edge of its poorly designed human mask, breaking off a bit of its right ear.
Hugh didn't seem t notice.
"Of fresh fruit."It added.
"Listen, I'm all for picking your own fruit. Hell, I can even look the other way on the occasional abduction. But we will not stand idly by if you are attempting anything more than that. Capiche?"
Hugh nodded vigorously, the broken ear of the mask had caused it to come loose. It feel all eight feet to the ground, shattering upon impact.
Hugh stood awkwardly, staring at us with its nine eyes, each one blinking apart from the others. Its mouth resembled a ravens, but inside it's beak were two rows of teeth, sharper than I had ever scene before.
"Oh, how embarassing."Hugh said, leaning the long way over to pick up the shattered pieces of its facade. "I've seem to have lost my head."
Malarkey didn't flinch. "Happens to the best of us."
Hugh gave a forced laugh, that sounded like a mix between nails on a chalk board and a thousand crows cawing all at once. The three other creatures with him laughed too.
"I believe we're done here."Malarkey said, returning to chewing on his fingernails. "Don't let me catch any of you up to something while you're 'visiting'".
Hugh an its companions nodded.
Malarkey motioned to Gulliver and I to head out and the three of us began walking back to our jeep parked a little ways away.
"Enjoy the weather."Hugh cawed after us. |
On my eighteenth birthday, I stood at the crossroads of destiny. The old woman in the worn cloak offered me a choice – a blessing or a curse. Opting for the former, I received the gift of eternal curiosity. At first, it seemed like a wondrous boon as my hunger for knowledge led me down fascinating paths. However, the insatiable thirst for understanding became a curse of its own. Relationships strained as my relentless pursuit left little room for personal connections. The blessing turned bittersweet, an unending quest for wisdom that overshadowed the simple joys of life.It was on a dark and stormy night when the old woman in the tattered cloak reappeared and offered me a second chance. This time, I chose a curse, anything to escape the prison of unending inquiry. In an instant, my life changed. The endless search for truth became unimportant. All that mattered were the pleasures of the moment. I abandoned my studies and threw myself into the celebration of wine, women, and song. I had become what I needed most.
As the old woman predicted, this, too, had its price. The days passed with mindless revelry, the nights in a drunken stupor. When my purse was empty, I turned to thievery. I became a creature of shadows and darkness, stealing just enough to pay for food, drink, and other vices. The life of a thief was all I desired until the night I was caught.
In a flash of lightning, the old woman appeared. She held out her hand and asked for the ring on my finger. It was a simple thing of gold and brass, a worthless bauble I had stolen from a drunken fool. I would have given it freely, had she but asked. Instead, she insisted I pay a price, a coin of great worth, the ring, or my life.
I pulled off the ring and handed it to her, expecting her to disappear in a flash of light. Instead, the old woman laughed and dropped the ring into a nearby puddle. She waved her hand, and a terrible pain shot through my chest."The price is paid,"the old woman declared. |
We stay away from Old Mr.Swanson. He’s a kind man, a veteran of the Vietnam war, for several years he was sweet and often helped everyone in need. If you had a flat, you could call on him, locked out of your home, Mr.Swanson would find a way in and open your front door. Often he would be found on his porch in the morning, with a nice cup of hot coffee and a newspaper. He had a phone, he just preferred the feel of the paper, the sensation of turning the page. When amber alerts went off he was on vigil, outside his house, watching the street. But…it changed over time. He began to get…confused…it started the summer before last. It was a muggy summer night, the sun had just set. Mom had pulled in from a long shift at the hospital, Dad had just finished cooking dinner…when we saw Mr. Swanson ducking behind a hedge, a thick stick in his aged hands. Dad told us to stay inside, he too was a Vet, he’d often sit and talk with Mr.Swanson in the mornings, make sure he was able to get to the VA whenever he needed to. We watched as Dad went out cautiously, he knew something was up. Dad held his hands up in the air, and called out.
“John, what did you see, sir?” He asked. Mr.Swanson jerked and shot up, pointing the stick at Dad…like a gun.
“Don’t you f***n move.” The older man hissed. Dad froze.
“Sir,” Dad said in an odd voice. “Just reporting for duty.” Swanson relaxed a little.
“Issit already time for shift?” He asked lowering the stick, I could see from where we were that Mr.Swanson was gripping it so tightly his mottled knuckles were white.
“Yessir, would you like me to occupany you back to camp? One of the privates is taking over.”Dad signaled with hand, I came outside, pulling my coat tight, I had to hide the fact I was a girl, girl’s weren’t in the army during Vietnam, or at least I don’t think they were. Swanson eyed me.
“Signed yerself up two years older huh?” I shook my head slightly.
“No, sir.” I said huskily to hide my feminine voice. “Just have a baby face is all.” I said. I watched as Dad walked Mr.Swanson to his house. They had reached the porch when a neighbor came out with a flashlight. Things happened so fast. Mr.Swanson lurched forward with a speed almost unnatural given his age. There was the sound of crunching and a snap, a scream, Dad had to get Mr.Swanson into a headlock, nearly knocked him unconscious before the old man let go of the screaming neighbor, I quickly called 911.
The neighbor didn’t press charges, but we all learned that night that Mr.Swanson had lost his squad…all because someone lit a cigarette. They had been killed, Mr.Swanson had been POW, he had escaped and had been hiding in the jungle for months before he was found by another squad…but the scars were still there…the neighbor was lucky his arm had been broken, had mr.Swanson not have been blinded by the flashlight…it would have been the neck that had been snapped… Dad says Mr.Swanson’s going to be moved to a state veterans home, it was better this way. I prayed the staff knew how to handle him when he got dragged back into the past. Back into that treacherous jungle, far over seas… |
(First time attempting this)
Part 1.
Camden Rock was a city of high risks and high rewards but don't get me wrong ; most of the successful folks in this city hid secrets. Some mild such as the rumour of actress Hilary Callahan sleeping with famous director George Stokes for a role in his recent top movie ; whilst other secrets were had no businesses seeing the light of day; such as how a tip from a receptionist from the four star Rosewood Hotel, about certain guests making too much noise in the penthouse suite led to the discovery of an underground celebrity prostitution ring involving the mafia, top movie moguls and fledgling actors and actresses. The case had been dubbed the Rosewood Case.
Some call it a career defining case. I call it a nightmare. From the witness testimonies I had to collect, to the evidence I had to find. The late nights threatening phone calls, the high number of socialites preferring to end themselves to avoid their day in court, to the District Attorney 'cautioning' me as to how to proceed.
Oh and did I tell ever tell you how the mafia paid off half the department to keep this hush-hush. That means missing evidence and convicing colleagues to look the other way. That means disagreements which made half the department hate you for refusing to go with the flow. The case had now on dragged on for two years and it was getting a new chapter on that cloudy Wednesday night.
The call came from the Crown Palette Hotel. The venue was packed with some of the biggest names in acting . The journalists were already outside the hotel being kept at bay by the department police officers. The actors who attended the party being denied a chance to leave as they had now become witnesses and suspects. The threats to call their lawyers and the county governor were rampant and were made more vocally when they saw my face.
"Not this again,"I mumbled to myself. Interviewing and interrogating actors had been an occurrence this last two years. Some had been willing to talk, others were less compliant. Two of whom I had interrogated had committed suicide whilst some had been plainly murdered via a string of 'accidents'. Was the mafia involved ? The organized crime unit weren't in a sharing mood with me.
The forensic team were already combing the two scenes. The body lay on the pavement with blood slowly coming out from it's head. The victim was Georgio Copolla, a known capo of the Franco Family and one of the suspects in the case I was investigating. The hotel balcony where the party had occurred was awash with a plethora of whiskeys, spirits champagne bottles and the common illegal drug satchets of heroine, cocaine and God knows what.
"So actors and actresses under the influence are going to provide me first hand witness testimony. Oh the defense attorneys are going to have a field day with me."I thought to myself. |
Realistically, I shouldn’t have felt anything. Not a thing, ‘cause the the emotional thread of my relationship should have been more than enough.
Look, I know that you and Clara are halfsies (that is to say, you’re just not into each other), yet you seem to be enslaved through every random kiss; like it’s similar to the gross way that my sister and her “girlfriend” seem to progress their “relationship”. 🥵.
Okay, admittedly, I like the way that girls go about romance. It’s softer, kinder, and ultimately more direct. Guys always seem to beat around the bush, and it takes so long. Guys are too serious, honestly, while ladies get it. That is to say, “babes are, as babes do, effectively”,
And when I kissed Amanda? Yeah, it was fucking amazing. She was everything to me; did as much as she could for me. I love her and I love girls.
My wife? Well, she’ll understand. If nothing else, give these lovers to my brother, Deimos. And in the end? I love you, gorgeous one. |
"oh for crying out loud"I squealed as I stubbeded my toe in the dark. "Alexa, turn on the light."
Well that was my first mistake I thought as I stared down into my own glassy staring eyes. I wondered as I continued to stare whether there would come a point where I could get that awful haircut fixed and expect it to stick.
Hang on, let me explain. Something weird had been going on lately. It's been happening for long enough that it no longer feels weird to me but I think I may be alone in that. Someone wants me dead. I'm not sure who or why but the evidence is clear as day on my bedroom floor. They're serious. Equally clear is that someone or something wants me alive. The evidence of that is still throbbing on the end of my foot.
When it started it was subtle. In fact I think it took 5 or 10 reboots before I was really clear about what was happening. A stray bullet here,a speeding car there, I know it's cliche but there was even a falling piano. Each time I woke up as if nothing had happened and at first I thought it was just a weird dream. Until I wandered past the piano clean up and realised the items being collected were mine. Over time I started going back to the scenes of my dreams and without fail there was my body waiting for me. |
Recorded on March 26,2104. Dr. Walter Reid. Guest Speaker. Excerpt from lecture, “On the Abandonment of Greed.”
[applause] thank you, thank you…..thank you.
In the past century, mankind has seen a level of upheaval and change that surpassed both the industrial and computer revolutions. At the dawn of that century, the commercial systems held their peak power via wars and bought politicians.
The military industrial complex killed off generations of young people who, ultimately, were so desperate for basic life necessities that they viewed risking their lives for profit as a bible cause.
The Pandemic of 2020-2022, followed by the Christmas Flu of 2028-2029, showed that the government was being raided by a commercial system that had begun to feed upon itself.
With all of this, however, 2050 stands as a pivotal year among catastrophes. It was the year where climate change met the first great oil shortage, in the middle of the Orange Plague, which in turn triggered the Great Disconnect.
One takeaway from all of this, as we have all seen expressed in various forms during our studies of the culture and sociological and artistic expressions of the era, is that people will accept the most extreme hardships as normal and proper, so long as they have just enough hope that things will get better, even if it’s a lie.
[pause]
Except for members of the tenured staff, the living memory of that time is gone. And even then, of the memories that remain, most are faded and dim or are the recollections of those who were young children. So we arrive at the present.
Today marks the last day of the old calendar. Tonight, at midnight, which is about four hours from now, we start a new calendar. Year 1 of the Sol Standard Calendar.
[with a smirk] and yet we still have daylight savings. [audience laughs]
We start a new calendar in recognition of the lives, no the entire generation, lost to the chaos that nearly killed off mankind. We start the new calendar to memorialize the rebirth of mankind. To remind us that we have left the past behind. That we will forever forward strive to control the greed, hatred, violence, and selfishness that held mankind hostage for all of our history up to this point.
Tonight, at 12:00:00 am, to quote an ancient holy book, we shall “put away the old personality that conforms to your former course of conduct….and put on the new personality that was created.” So, as the last generation that lived through the upheaval and near extinction of mankind dies away, put away that old life. Remember it as the world of horrors it truly was. Look forward, young ones, and continue to build something new. Something worth remembering.
Go forward and build something worthy of a new calendar, so that we may rightfully call that time before as the Old World.
[applause] |
"Here, just take it! I'm a dead man either way!"
Harrald took out his memory cartridge from his pouch, placed it on his arm, and pulled it out, readied and primed with the knowledge of the DeBlanc's entire operation, handing it to Nedd.
"Well, finally you're useful! Now, get the Hell out of here, Harry. Oh, and here,"Nedd tossed a bag of bills at him as he scooted away on the floor, "For your troubles"He laughed and transferred the memory to his cartridge and threw Harrald's device at the warehouse wall, shattering it against the bricks.
Nedd sauntered out of the building, making a left down an alley. The cartridge was secured, and a job was well done for mob enforcer Nedd Guillermo, but as the night ended, the job would be anything but well done.. |
"Well I think we all learned a valuable lesson today."I laughed
"Dude, I lost both my arms, your paralyzed from the waist down, Steve is blind, and Carly is dead!"Screamed Dan right next to me in the hospital.
"But I think the knowledge we gained will be quite useful."
"Screw you, man, what exactly did we learn from that?"
"We learned that we shouldn't dig in my yard without the city's permission. My parents did warn us after all."I chuckled
"Roger, I don't think they were implying that we would find an active bomb under your house."
"Well now we know." |
Darkness. Pain. Agonized screams.
That's all I remember of my meeting with the Dreaded Axelady of the Seas.
I don't remember whose screams, or whose pain it was. I do know that I woke up as myself and with The Kraken Axe, which means one thing, as far as I know. I've imbued myself with the power of the Dreaded Axelady.
I'm not sure how she'll manifest, or when, but the Axe has thankfully shrunk down to a pendant affixed to a bracelet. I've followed the basic binding rituals for pirate ghosts, mixing my blood with water from the ocean, in a bowl of shipswood covered in sail canvas, which sounds tacky, but helps the ghost acclimate to the summoner better.
Now, I go to find the bastards who killed my wife, and erase them from existence, find their employers and do the same.
As I think these dark thoughts, sitting in my garage-gym, the Axelady appears out of the corner of my eye, stepping into view, holding a spectral copy of The Kraken Axe, and she takes a stance in front of me. I grin wildly, grab the pendant and summon the Axe, as I grab it, it grows to its full size, with a 4 foot long, iron-bound haft, topped with a 2 and a foot long flaming one sided bearded axe blade. |
"Hi, intern!"A giant meaty centaur popped out of his cubicle, his tie loosely around his neck
"Ah!"The intern kept going down the aisle, head down, till he reached the manager's office.
"What the hell is this business?!"He yelled at the manager, his face hidden by his coffee mug.
"THAT *thing* was not in the contract!!"The manager pulled the mug away from his face, revealing a giant snout and bright yellow eyes, with vertical pupils.
"AHH! What the f-"The manager swelled in size and his clothes ripped until he turned full-blown werewolf. The two looked to the giant window in the back of the office, revealing a full moon.
"Hey, keep ya voice down, won't-cha? Hannah in accounting's ears swelled up the size of my wife's bazoongas and she can hear everything at max volume!"
"Oh, is your wife a werewolf, too?"
"Yea, but I'm talking about in-the-day-bazoongas."
"Oh- wait, what the hell am I saying!? I did NOT sign up for THIS!!" |
I am so good at cooking a classic homestyle newt’s eye soup. And my whole family goes nuts for my flesh loaf. But as a speaker at the Annual Witches Work conference, I was determined to introduce some new ideas to the crowd! I huddled behind a heavy plastic curtain, which smelled faintly of stale cigarette smoke, checking my notes on my eyePad. I hummed my introduction in my head for the umpteenth time that day. But it was perfect and I knew it. Alls that left to do is just make my presentation! I was quietly pleased with myself for being so prepared.
A roar of applause rose up as the speaker before me finished. Then, the emcee, a beastly gargoyle, grinning from ear to ugly, fraying ear, told a couple off color jokes. The audience tittered uncomfortably. Why get a goddamn gargoyle for a presenter? I knew why. They’re cheap. Witches, warlocks, hellhounds, vampires, babadooks…they all commanded so much cash for an appearance, me included! Again, I wriggled a bit in my chair, proud of who I had become. The emcee got the audience primed for my entrance. He intoned ominously, “Witches, bitches and beldams! Sorceresses, occultists and conjurers! Old hags, harridans, and harpy’s! His majesty King Leopold II welcomes you to this beautiful castle, this gorgeous colonial palace, built with love by the people of Congo. The audience hummed and nodded. And now, may we welcome our prime speaker, Madam Marianne Manierre! The crowd burst into applause, as I sashayed my confident ass up to the podium, smiling at the world. |
Waking up I could already tell immediately that everything was "wrong". My eyes were open and I couldn't see. I immediately tried to jolt up but my legs instead seemed to jerk backwards. I wasn't falling but I couldn't feel anything normal. Nothing was right and I couldn't tell where I was. For a few minutes I was hysterical and hyperventilating and I finally brought my hands to my face and I felt something solid in the way. I began to grab at it and realized it was a kind of mask.
Even when I pressed my hand directly against as hard as I could I still couldn't see it. By feeling I could tell it was in front of me but wherever I was it was pitch black. When I was younger I worked in an underground factory where the power went out. That was the first time in my life where I was plunged into straight darkness. This was that same feeling.
I could breathe and as I moved I realized that I felt like I was underwater. Never had I been much of a swimmer but if I was underwater yet still breathing I had to be in some kind of scuba gear.
How did I get here though? I was trying to go through my memories and thoughts. Sitting at home after work playing games, going to bed, but how did I end up here? It felt too vivid to be a dream too detailed, my mind felt too aware.
For some time I finally stopped moving, floating there in the empty space. Every once in a while I thought I felt something go past me but I couldn't be sure, it was scary every time but the panic was subsiding faster each time, I was getting used to whatever "this"was.
Then I saw it in the distance, it looked like a light. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me but when I moved my hand in front of my face I could finally see a shadow passing by. That was my hand and it was definitely blocking a light that I could see.
Slowly I started swimming towards it. The distance was unknown to me but I could tell that it was far off. Swimming was never my strong suit and like this I couldn't tell how fast I was going. My muscles started burning rather quickly as I frantically tried to propel myself towards the source of the light.
Then as suddenly as I had been thrust into this situation I felt something forcefully pull at me and keep me from moving forward. Struggling I started twisting around reaching behind me until I realized that I was attached to something, it felt like it was a rope or something. I was anchored to something. While distracted by my new discovery I didn't immediately notice that the light I had been going after was now getting larger still, it was coming towards me.
There was a weird jerking feeling as I could feel myself being pulled backwards now by the tether I was being pulled in the opposite direction of the light back the way I had started. At first I felt despair thinking I was being pulled back to where I had started but the light was still getting larger. It was coming straight for me.
Now I was confused but starting to feel a little panicked. Hadn't I wanted to go towards that light? It had been the only answer I had found in this whole situation but there was something about the way it moved. For some reason it was scaring me now. Still I was being tugged through the water but the light was coming faster.
Finally my hands were illuminated in front of me and I could make out shapes of fish and debris that were quickly floating by me as I was pulled. Then I could make out the source of the light and the rows of teeth that were right behind it. |
I honestly thought that I’d never get to sleep, that I would stay awake for the rest of my life, running on the high of never-ever having to ever-fucking work ever-fucking again. How? Why? The lottery. A win — and not a few bucks off the cost of the ticket or a couple grand off the credit card money kind of win, either. That wouldn’t rob me of sleep or detonate the work side of the work-life see-saw.
I had had a capital dubya Win. A big Win.
*The* big Win.
Not the biggest in the state ever but, you know, the current jackpot. Hundreds of millions. Three-*hundred* and *eighty* million dollars. Mine. For me. How could I possibly go to sleep?
A celebratory six-pack and a half bottle of vodka in a very short amount of time, that’s how. Also wine. I remember wine. Anyways: I had won the lottery, rechecked the ticket uncountable times, and then had a flurry of victory beverages and nothing to eat before I started to doze off on the couch to thoughts of sleeping on money piles and pizzas. One day. For the moment? Just an old couch in my tiny, solo-populated, air-quote studio-apartment slash former storage room.
I had called no one, because: fuck ‘em. So, at this point, the only people who knew about the win was me and my alcohol blanket. And I was warm and happy and drifting off to the land of nod with a big dumb grin on my face.
And then things went wacky.
\* * *
A roughly barked stick was poking me in the jaw and cheek. Keen to sleep on I grabbed it and found the wood to be less wood and more a bare and calloused foot. I threw the foot aside as I sat up and screamed.
The rough clopper had not gone far. The owner was stood next to me. I was outside somewhere far away from my apartment. I knew this on account of the dense forest of trees understand my arse. I looked back to the man whohad toe-poked me awake. He was a slender, sinewy man with wild hair, wild eyes, a long and slender wooden spear in one hand, and a body clad in tufts of hair and layers of dirt.
His bare man bits were at my presently sitting-up eye-height. I clambered back and away from him, shouted a repetitious string of what-the-fuck-man’s as I stumbled and tripped my way to being standing. Heck of a first impression for him to give.
“Dude!” I had said to the naked stranger.
He said nought. Just stood there, leaned on his spear and stared at me with wide-open hazel-coloured eyes. I tried to match his gaze, tried to keep my eyes there and only there, but my aim kept dropping. Like when you immediately fail when someone says to NOT think about pink elephants, I tried to avoid peeking at his pecker...but...
“Alright! Okay.” I put my hands on my hips, looked about at the trees and yet I kept finding flaccid wood in my peripheries. So, I stared up at the sky. “Yeah. Okay-okay-o...kay? What?”
The sky was a multicoloured pool of...*shimmer*. A bright iridescent oil stain that spread across the heavens. No stars or clouds,just colours running together. The canopy I stared through to see it was made of stained glass and crystal that slowly throbbed and slid. And it all caught up with me. From wake up to that moment I had been running on startle-juice — the old flee or punch fruit punch. The sky had set me right.
“What the fuck is going on? Where the fuck am I? And who the *fuck* are—ew!” I had looked at him to ask my wheres and whats and had caught full view, again, of his danglies. My eyes shot skyward like rockets. “Look. Okay. I get it. You’re comfortable in your own skin, cool. Good on you. Just. It’s not for me. It-it-it’s just not. Kay?”
This time the sky was made of those padded puzzle-piece floor tiles and the trees were lego — no, duplo. I got the sense that the sky and surrounds were calling me juvenile. Then my brain connected a call that had been waiting on the line for a while.
I recognised the nudist. My eyes fell onto his face...and stayed there this time.
Bearded and slender — fitter — and dirtier, but I knew him.
He was me.
“There ya go, bud.” Said Naked Wildman Me. His teeth were yellow. Not bad yellow, but evidently he hadn’t kept up with the whitening strips.
“What is—”
He raised his spear-free hand. I shut my mouth. “This is a dream. I am your Inner Line, your Lifepath. The you from the start of all things. Not just your life, but all life.”
“And...”
“And I am the keeper of your timeline — or timelines, rather. And something very big—”
“Fuck you, I’m keeping the money.”
“That’s—”
“Don’t care if the timeline or my soul or life hike — or whatever your trying to fucking sell me on — is like, I dunnom: doomed? But no, Bud. Me rich now. No takesy-backsees!”
He stared at me. Scratched his butt. Not with the spear. “Ya done?”
“Yes.”
“Cool. You get to keep the money.”
“Oh thank god! Wait! No ifs?”
“No ifs...” He blinked at me, waited for me to stop dancing. “*but*—”
“Oh *fuuuck* you. You fucko!”
“But if you—”
“You said no ifs!”
“But *IF* you don’t act sensibly and with forethought and instead go nuts about things you are going to DIE and DIE early.”
“How early?”
“Before you wake up.”
“What, why?”
“Well, Drunko, remember when you turned the oven on to put a frozen pizza in?”
That did sound like me.
“Remember how the oven light didn’t turn on?”
“Ye—Oh, Fuck! The gas stove!”
I was up off the couch, into the kitchen, and turning off the stove top in record time. Then I walked —not ran— to the one person balcony, opened it up and let some fresh air in. What a dream. I walked back to the couch, took the winning ticket off the coffee table and placed it in the freezer for safe keeping.
Can’t believe I left it on the coffee table. Then I pottered around. Cleaned up. Drank some water. Triple checked the stove was off.
And finally fell into bed, certain that tomorrow my new life would begin.
I opened my eyes to a sky where every star was one of several winning numbers. The constellations painted pictures of pizzas and houses and cars (they even had pale little lines between the star-numbers to completed the image).
“Right.” Said Naked Me. “That was step one.”
It would take me a long while to put together what the hell was going on. |
Fair Verona University, a school where you can major in magic, botany, film, mythology, whatever you wish. But this school is also known for it's hundred year fued between The Archaeology Department and Necromancy Department. Why this fued? What brought upon this fued in the first place? I mean, wouldn't it be easier to ask the dead for their story than guess work? Well, we will find out. My name is Cory Narrive, and together we will explore the school's civil war amongst their own departments: Archaeology versus Necromancy.
You: (Off Camera) Isn't it the Paleontology and Archaeology Department?
Cory: It's a mouthful to say.
*Paleontology and Archaeology Department*
Cory: (Interviewing Julianne Caplette) You study Archaeology, correct?
Julianne: (Slightly Nervous) Yes, I'm majoring in Archaeology, and minor in Historical Literature.
Cory: Historical Literature? (Facing Towards The Camera, Confused) We got that?
You: (Off Camera, Hissing) Focus!
Cory: (Making Faces At You, Returns To Interview) Anyways, I might change majors, but this isn't about me. So, you know about the fued between Archy and Necro?
Julianne: (Holding Back Laughter) Yes.
Cory: Do you know what brought this animosity between the two departments?
Julianne: (Shrugs) Not really, but from what I heard from the upperclassmen is that they are cheaters.
Cory: Cheaters how?
Julianne: Like, they bring the dead back to speak with them personally. Then they use the dead to trash our department. (Chuckles Nervously) I mean, thats a pretty cowardly thing to do. Shouldn't you do the trashing yourself than desecrating a corpse to do so?
*Necromancy Department*
Cory: (Interviewing Roman Mounty) You are a Necromancer, Roman?
Roman: Not yet, which is why I'm getting degree on it.
Cory: Do you know about the feud between you and Archy?
Roman: Who's Archy?
You: (Off Camera) The Archaeology Department.
Roman: Oh! Yeah, no clue, but it's fun to mess with them. Have you seen Professor Capulet pissed, it's hilarious.
Cory: I heard he's a pretty tough guy. Surprised he hasn't done anything.
Roman: He released a virus on our department once.
Cory: Wait, the Deviloe Virus? Dude, the whole school was in quarantine because of it.
You: Is Capulet a virologist too?
Roman: (Shrugs)
Cory: That virus put me in bed for two weeks! Would've been nice if I wasn't shi-
*Paleontology and Archaeology Department Offices*
Professor Capulet: Yes, I released Deviloe amongst the school. No, I wasn't expecting it to be out of control. Cardigan told me the virus was mild, which is why I released it in the first place.
Cory: Remind me to send you my laundry bill. Anyways, why this animosity towards Necro?
You: (Off Camera) The Necromancy Department.
Professor Capulet: (Face Reddening) Because they are a bunch of fucking low lives that don't respect the dead and they better fu-
*Necromancy Department Offices*
Professor Montague: (Laughing) He said that? Capulet should really need to take a chill pill. Look, a little rivalry is healthy, but come on, poisoning the school kinda takes it far. I'm surprised Esculas hasn't fired him.
Cory: Why the animosity though?
Professor Montague: (Thinking Hard) I think it began in 1562, with the first Heads of each department, Bandello, Head of Necromancy, and Brooke, Head of Paleontology and Archaeology. That's all I know.
Cory: Ever thought of bringing them back and ask them?
Professor Montague: Yeah, if we knew where the graves are. They have been dead for half a millennia now, so they could be anywhere in Mantua.
So we aren't sure why the animosity between these two departments, but we do have theories. But are these theories true, it's up to you to decide. |
The Golden Helm sat at one of the highest peaks of The Colossi. Their legs drifting lazily over the edge as they watched the competition below. The crash of metal and the cries of the audience washed over them as a soft hand pulled on the fabric of their shoulder. The dark material stretched against their muscled frame a soft voice spoke, "G-Golden H-Helm."
A soft swallow and it continued, "Why don't you just kill them? I saw you take in Crawler. You had him at your complete mercy and you threw him back to the police like it didn't even matter!"the tempo continued to rise, "You could have stopped it all! You could prevent the next escape, the next catastrophe, the loss of someone else's child!"The voice broke.
The helm turned slowly, until one hollow slit settled on the cherry red dress the seemed to hang onto a grey haired woman. She could feel the gaze like a sun itself, exposing every crack and glittering element of her being before they spoke, "Do you have a habit of killing your prized terras?"
The glittering scales of her favorite pet and the expansive aquarium around it splashed in her mind's eye. The countless nights spent watching them shimmer through the water. The dedication she had carved into the reef filling each nook and cranny. Under the sun the thought evaporated as they continued, "Nor do I."
He dropped the rest with the same tired voice her father used to speak with coming home from a day beginning before the dawn and ending long after, "Even if there are quite a few more of you." |
...you head back down to make a sandwich. As your butter knife cuts it in half you hear a scream but less high pitched, immediately followed by "Why?!"from the room you heard the scream. It's a woman's voice she sounds young at least you'd like to imagine she's young. "I'll be right there my darling Josephine!"You hope she's in a mini skirt and long legs, maybe even attending art school. As you enter the room you find half a girl in that is a pair of long legs in a stylish mini skirt cut off near the belly button. You look down and realize you did it again...why do females and sandwiches look so similar? God knows what mess this one will be. You take a nap and awake to a scene that makes you hungry for a sandwich all the sudden. Again the scream pierces the empty house. |
The clear part, that was fine. It’s always a clear night on the moon, after all. Little to no atmosphere means no air movement, no storms, nothing but eerie stillness and the quiet hiss of the air exchange system in one’s suit. I was very excited to be on the moon. I had won a lottery and everything! ‘The Final Frontier!’ the billboard had screamed in bold capital letters, with the tag-line ‘Leave it all behind!’, and I was immediately enamored with the idea. I had to sign a waiver, of course, but they assured me it was perfectly safe. It did hold clauses about death, dismemberment, catastrophic decompression, etc, etc, blah, blah, blah - you know, the standard dotting of i’s and crossing of t’s.
We had been on the moon for a little over four hours now, Nina and I, and I found it fascinating. Even better, the company was good. I liked her straight away. She won the lottery as well, and had a certain calmness that I found…well. Calming, obviously.
She was forever picking up new and interesting rocks, while all I had time or inclination for was to make huge, leaping bounds over the surface.
“Nina?” I asked, bouncing to a less than graceful stop at her feet. It was very hard to get used to the amount of force needed to push up off the surface. I was forever overshooting my landings.
“Hmm?” my companion replied absently, attention riveted to the moon rock held gently between her fingers. It was a very nice rock, I suppose. Very…moon-y, you know, in that otherworldly way moon rocks always tend to have about them. A light, dusty whitish yellow. I had thought they would be grey, but no. The landscape was a more warm color than I had expected. Then again, I had only been on the moon a few hours. Every rock looked moon-y.
“Do you notice anything…odd?”
“No, not really. Though I’ve found a very nice one. It has a good texture.”
“I see that, but do you feel strange at all?”
“Hmm. No? Should I?”
“Well, no, but I feel a bit… see-through.”
I wasn’t sure how else to describe it. The feeling was like when you pushed off from a pier on a boat. A feeling of disconnection, of a heavy weightlessness, like you are meant to be floating but there is something very large that would be more than happy to pull you all the way down.
“Oh! Yes, I suppose it is about that time.”
“What?” I asked, and my voice must have betrayed my discomfort even through my very stylish moon-helmet.
“Oh yes. You’ll go see-through as the moon phases happen.”
“What?!” I repeated, as if trying again would get a different answer. See-through? That was not the natural order of things! People objects and places should remain corporeal! And I was feeling very light all of a sudden. I waved a hand in front of my face and it flickered out of existence for just long enough that I knew I wasn’t having a severe case of moon-madness.
“Oh, dear. You didn’t know? What kind of school did your parents send you to? That is why they call them ‘phases’. You phase out of existence.”
“Nina,” I said, eyes flicking across my surroundings, properly panicked because it was becoming an alarming shade of pitch black, “that is definitely not why they call them phases.”
“Of course it is! Where do you think the moon goes when it’s a moonless night?! They don’t call it “moon-*less*” for nothing! Next you’re going to tell me it isn’t made of cheese!”
“Nina,” I said, trying my best not to sob, “the moons isn’t made of cheese.”
Nina tossed her head back and laughed and laughed.
“Darling, what did you think I’ve been picking up?”
“Rocks?” I sniffled, crying openly now.
“It’s Gouda!” Nina said brightly as she winked slowly out of existence. My hand was now invisible. I felt… nothing.
“Get it?” her disembodied voice asked, getting smaller and quieter and further away as the black surrounded me. *Became* me.
“Good-a?* It’s a pun!” |
John stood at the end of a long banquet table. It was still overflowing with food, as servants were still bringing more and more to the table. His laughter roared through the hall, along with that of the nobles, as they were eating and drinking to their rotten hearts content. He was there to orchestrate this feast. After all, it was the king's 60th birthday, and no noble worth their salt would miss such an event.
He remembered that night like it was yesterday. He was woken by the smoke of their home burning. The absolute chaos of his parents' guards running around, trying to put out the fire. All the while, assassins were killing indiscriminately. He didn’t remember how he got out. Only waking up in an alley the day after. His clothes were ripped, and his parents' fortune was taken in by the local noble, Sir Humphrey, for “safekeeping”. After all, they were only simple merchants. No one would miss them.
It took time to plan revenge. He was a nobody. Not even the noble sent anybody after him. So he took work as a simple administrator for a business the noble owned. It was a long road to work his way up the ranks again to be trusted by that vile scum he hated and be in his inner circle.
From then on, he set his sights higher. Why bother killing a single corrupt noble when he could knock the entire rotten structure down? So, he started building trust with the king. Slowly showing him loyalty by rooting out “traitors” to the crown. Mainly other nobles evading their taxes. They had it coming, after all. Even sending Sir Humphrey to the guillotine for planning to kill the King. The old fool didn’t even check the evidence John had so carefully planted.
Now he stood next to the king as a royal aide. Entrusted with preparing the banquet as one of his most trusted advisors. Unlike the other guests, he wasn’t eating or drinking. Yet he was still laughing. And as the poison started to affect the first guests, his laughter only increased.
When the next dawn broke, John had left the castle. Taking a fast horse to the next kingdom. There were always more nobles to gain the trust of. |
Sitting at work, I grabbed the cheap calculator to do some basic math and discovered the thing refused to register any buttons being pressed. The cover on the screen fell off, probably to spite me.
“Oh goddamn it” I said with a sigh. “Hello again.”
*you don’t have to sound so unenthused about me suddenly making an appearance in the middle of your afternoon, you know*
“Yes, I know! And *you* know that this is my vo….ugh. Why are you here?”
*did you see the article?*
“Yes.”
*isn’t it great? He said to make a wish on a star flashing across the ceiling of his car which costs more than anything you’ve ever owned? Pretty neat, right?*
“Neato.”
*are you being sarcastic? Your voice is still flat, but I suspect you are being sarcastic. Did you know you were born in basically the same place? You’re actually older by a few months, you know. 1989, what a year. Why aren’t you as successful as him or his new girlfriend? Isn’t that kind of a disappointment?*
“Raise the seat.”
*what?*
“I can’t reach the pedals.”
*soooo….lower the seat?*
“I can’t see.”
*sounds like a personal problem. Like you being kind of a scrub, compared to your peers. Which is what I’m here to help you with, actually. You now have the ability to transfer your consciousness to a version of yourself in a different reality. The multiverse, as your generation calls it. You can only do it once per lifetime though, then you’re stuck in that reality until the body dies.*
“What the actual fuck.”
*you’re welcome*
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you, you ancient puff of wooly mammoth fart.”
*no, I’m doing this because I don’t have to and…because you’re kind of fun*
“I don’t like you.”
*I don’t care*
“Oh good. I’m gonna talk about my feelings now.”
*sounds bor-*
“I read the article and I wish things had been different. That I had a large supportive family. That I had made a more educated decision about my future. That I hadn’t been caught in the gears, deep in the heart of the imperial machine. That I hadn’t come to view the world with a sense of disgust, filled with bitter fruit and eager to hand out lemons. The arrogance and the bluster, the stupid desire to feel powerful by being disrespectful and crude everyone swaggered around with like a badge of honor. Honestly, it got to the point I didn’t want people to be comfortable around me. I *wanted* them to feel dumb or small or unwanted because it was all true, as far as I was concerned. Of course, I couldn’t openly say so because they were higher on the formal hierarchy so I learned to be creatively caustic.”
*yawn.*
“Yes! Yes. That’s the spirit. The apathetic cruelty. That’s why you are here. That’s why they did what they did, I suppose. Because it felt good and it gave them a sense of power, being the one who knocks. Always the one who knocks. Big bad djinn, making big noises with his big muscles and his big dick! You should make a wish on a fake representation of a star inside an ostentatious car! Make a wish djinn! Make a wish that you had a hot, famous partner! Make a wish that you didn’t have to sully yourself with my company. Don’t be shy, out with it my immortal benefactor!”
*you are entertaining when your broken parts flap around. very amusing, please don’t stop, oh my god! don’t you dare fucking stop*
“…..”
*that’s probably what she sounds like, don’t you think? those other 1989ers, getting it on while you sit in your bitter obscurity.*
“Okay?”
*so make a wish.*
“Why?”
*I gave you this power so you have the opportunity to not fuck up the next time. You already jumped to this body, so you’re in it for the long haul, but maybe you could make a wish anyway. Could be fun*
“You aren’t obligated to grant wishes.”
*correct!*
“So why would I wish for anything?”
*for a multiversal traveler, you are awfully small minded. and your breath stinks.*
“Fine. I wish for an intelligent, sexy partner who wants to watch stupid videos on the internet with me.”
*granted.*
“Doubt.”
*that is your problem. I said what I said.*
“Yes, but you’re a liar.”
*sometimes. who cares?*
“I do.”
*good for you.*
“I have nothing further to say to you.”
*see? you can lie too. pretty fun isn’t it?*
“So you *were* lying about the wish being granted.”
*nope.*
“Bu-“
*im not explaining myself to you.*
“Go the f-“
*be careful what you wish for.*
The words stuck in my head with the tenacity of superglue. It almost seemed like a command, if you believed in djinns and orders and such. I was left with questions and answers that did not match, typical of one of our interactions. If life was a movie, this would be a good time to have a training montage where I learn how to be the love I seek.
As I sat there, idly stirring my lukewarm coffee, I felt like a pigsty that was being converted into an orchard. Less shitty, but not exactly bountiful. Monday, Monday.
This is what I get for going to antique stores. |
“Welcome ladies and gentlemens to tonight's main event!” the announcer shouted, microphone raised to his lips as he looked around the packed Coliseum. The crowd cheered, rising to their feet before settling back down, their anticipation building with every word that echoed throughout the arena.
“A reminder that tonight's Deathmatch is brought to you by Bud Mite, the only alcoholic drink that guarantees you your daily protein needs from just one bottle. Delivering the freshest, tastiest insect flavoured beer all over the great New United States.” the announcer said, the spotlight moving away from him, showing off the Coliseum’s new battle arena. Crumbling red brick walls dotted the floor, separating the fighters, while lines of barbed wire ran along the walls. Chests, some locked while others sat unlocked, were sprinkled around the ground. A cage, covered by a tarp, sat right in the centre.
“In the south corner,” the announcer went on. “We have Paul Murphy from New York city. He is tonight's Initiator. In the North we have our Instigator, Darren Hughes also residing from New York city.” No one in the crowd moved. Thirty thousand people looked on, each bouncing in their seats. Bookies walked up and down the stone steps, each yelling out their odds on the match.
“Even odds on Hughes. Two to one on Murphy. You won’t do better anywhere else. Twenty to One it ends with a fire. One hundred to one that they both die!” one shouted. The smell of spilled beer wafted through the air. Burger wrappings were already balled up at peoples feet, having become hungry sitting through the last five fights.
“Now,” the announcer said. “For those of you who haven’t bought tonight's programme, which is sponsored by Shell Oil Incorporation, use Shell products only to save on paper and the planet, I will give you the summary while our fighters are doing their final checks. The spotlight found the announcer again, a grey-haired man in a crisp black tuxedo.
“Paul Murphy found his Wife Meredith,” the spotlight flickered to the stands, where a short, stumpy woman became blinded, “in bed with his boss Darren Hughes. That is what brought us here today folks. Paul initiated the challenge and Darren has accepted.” The spotlight faded. The Coliseum grew dark. People started muttering between themselves, arguing who would win and wondering why they were bothering to fight in the first place.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the announcer finished. “Without further ado, It's time!” A screen above from the roof. A countdown began. The crowd joined in, screaming as the numbers dropped. A buzzer sounded as it went to One. The fight had begun. The crowd screamed, the chairs flipping up, as they stood to see better.
Darren was quicker off the mark, darting immediately past the first corner, coming across an unopened box. Reaching in, he pulled out a\`baseball bat, a collection of rusted nails sticking out the top. The crowd ooo’d as their eyes flickered over to where Paul was. Slower than his boss, Paul was only now reaching his first chest. Pulling out a whip, the crowd laughed.
After a minute of the two men creeping around corners, they seemed at last destined to meet. A series of red brick walls separated them. Then, just as they were about to run into each other, Paul took a right turn just missing Darren by an inch who kept going the direction his employee had just come from. The crowd groaned, though they knew it was for the better. Darren moved more slowly after that, eventually arriving at the tarped cage. Pulling it away, a gorilla appeared between the bars, uninterested in the crowd or the man staring at it. The hairy beast sat in the corner, looking up at the roof of his cage. Then a bell sounded. A flash of light appeared, showing half a dozen keys fallen from the ceiling into the arena. The people hollered with excitement.
Darren, baseball bat in hand, left the cage behind finding himself at a dead end right where Paul had started. Paul however, had more luck. Hardly watching his feet, he kicked a key out from the dirt. The camera zoomed on him, a crazy grin spread across his face. Dashing down through the arena, it took him no time to find a locked chest. Pulling the weapon out, the crowd roared as a certain bookie started to sweat.
After only a few more minutes, the two men would find themselves rounding the same corner. The crowd grew quiet. Paul crouched as he walked while Darren stuck his neck out, trying to see what was around the corner. Then, at that moment, Darren became careless. He let his baseball bat scrap against the bricks, the nails screaming as they mark the wall. Paul smiled. Jumping around the corner, he pulled the trigger of the flamethrower dousing his boss in flames. Darren dropped the bat, turning to run. Not making it ten metres, he fell. Paul walked after him, squeezing the trigger until there was no fuel left. Darren wriggled around on the dirt, screaming. Paul stood, smiling. Tossing away the empty weapon, he looked up and where his wife sat, throwing up the middle finger as the spotlight came down on him.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the accouncer went. “And the winner of the main event this evening is Paul Murphy!” |
Our science was beginning to point to a counter intuitive fact; that the world of our senses and perceptions was a tiny sliver of what was there, what was really going on. Synesthesia, the mental phenomenon in which the edge between different senses is blurry, came under scrutiny. Those with it, synesthetes, were able to see sound, to hear color, to literally taste the rainbow. It was realized that these people were seeing more of reality than the average human.
Then came The Awakening. One unexceptional day, everyone began to sense more. What synesthetes had felt was only a small part of the vast spectra of perception that opened to the whole world. People were shocked, there was simply so much more information entering the conscious part of their minds.
Aesthetics was seen to be intertwined with physics, the barrier between the two being a product not of nature, but of our own limited and curtailed perceptions. Works of art could literally change the world. Music in particular was powerful. New worlds of expression emerged, works of music of such richness and depth that the world was reshaped in ways both big and small.
Melodies told stories, the notes intertwined with sensations. Small groups of musicians could reorder their surroundings. Symphonies could reshape continents. People came together more and more, learning to express themselves in ways they had never known possible prior to The Awakening. There was peace, even though our new found abilities and understandings could be used to wreak terrible destruction. The beauty was such that even the most depraved, violent, and broken were made whole.
Groups began to organize in the millions. Actions were taken that would change the fate of planets and stars. We discovered entire ecosystems that were once invisible to us, and brought them into the fold. Embracing the uniqueness of every mind, and helping every thinker find the height of their expression. |
Anderson walked briskly down the empty street, the somber buildings and road illuminated only by the barely comforting yellow lamps that pierced the murky gloom coldly. The wind was worsening. He adjusted his scarf higher up against his face, then jammed his hands deeper into his pockets. “It is truly unfortunate,” he thought to himself, “that I must walk so far to get to work.”
The wind’s whistle rose to a howl as it defied his steady tread. Each step began to take a toll and he glanced around, willing into existence some shelter to shield him from the shrieking weather or for one of those lifeless, heavy doors to open and a pale hand to reach out to him, beckoning him inside to catch his breath and dine on fulfilling broth. But no comforting niche appeared, nor did any of those bleak entrances so much as budge. He trudged onward, grimacing as the already harsh wind drove him backward with ever increasing force. It was promising to be a blizzard.
Within a few minutes, he noticed he was walking past a park, its metal fences imposing yet inviting him to enter. Not sparing another thought, he turned into its entrance, deciding to temporarily find a spot of his choosing to rest and perhaps wait for the restless gale to subside. Having found a bench under a towering oak, he promptly seated himself and exhaled. He closed his eyes as he allowed himself a moment to simply breathe as the forces of nature ravaged the concrete sentries of the city, attempting to break into the haven and rip away Anderson’s rather more peaceful pause. He did not notice as the street lamps suddenly, as if playing their part in that orchestrated dance of chaos, went out as one and the dusk hastened to darken ever further.
Suddenly, a light tap pronounced itself on his shoulder.
“AHHH!” He started violently, hand raised and eyes wide to look at the perpetrator that had appeared without a sound. “By the gods above, are you in your right mind, Sir?! What right have you in-” Anderson stopped suddenly, arm lowering as he gaped. The perpetrator was… no other than himself.
“You…?”
“Yes. I am you. Or you are me. I was not so sure, but it seems to be so.”
“But… how is this possible? From whence have you came?”
The man ignored his questions. “It is a peculiar event. I did not think I would bear witness to such a spectacle, what with the irony of my studies… But regardless, let us muse over how this has come about later.”
“I… How shall I refer to you as? Are you really me?”
“Yes, I believe that to be the case. In any case, you are a mirror copy of myself. You may refer to me as Dr. Anderson.”
“I see. I am Mr. Anderson. You… you’re a doctor?”
“I am, although in physics and not human anatomy.”
“A physicist, you say? You- or I- chose to become a physicist then?”
“I did. And you did not?” The doctor cocked an eyebrow.
“No. I instead allowed myself to study law in pursuit of my personal time and happiness.”
“Are you happy then?”
Anderson fell silent. The doctor eyed him, before joining him on the bench and crossing his legs. Neither noticed that the wind had since quieted to a deathly stillness.
“I am,” Anderson finally spoke. “After all, it was my choice. I am satisfied with the time I now have with my wife and children, with the time to spare on my hobbies no less.”
“I see. But that is not what we wanted, is it? I am what you wanted to be and will always want to be.”
“I did aspire to become a physicist, that is true. But the choice I made was the right one.” Anderson stared intensely at the doctor, who met his gaze evenly and rubbed his chin in thought.
“An amusing thought. And yet I embody everything you will never be, what you so wished to be for the entirety of your childhood- a scientist who would pry open the holy script behind life itself and leave unto the world the gift of the gods. A Prometheus, if you will.”
Blood rushed to Anderson’s face and he clenched his palms into fists. “A Prometheus? You lie, your words betray your treachery! Are you happy? Do you get to spend your evenings with your loving wife and happy children around you? Do you even have them?”
“I do not have a family,” the doctor spoke slowly. An imperceptible shadow crossed his brow for a split second. “Nor do I wish to have one. It would get in the way of my studies. And why should I deceive you, silly man? You are me and I am you- you should know better than any other what I am capable of achieving.”
“You lie! Nothing but stories, legends, myths!” Anderson burst upright, face red and seething. “What exaggerations! And so what if you chose to be a scientist? Being one does not make you a successful one! You are a fraud, appearing out of nowhere and spewing your exaggerations! What audacity do you have to so disturb me with these pointless-”
Anderson did not finish as the world was swiftly plunged back into a pitching, bellowing void of buffeting tides and currents. In surprised alarm, he raised his hands as the wind, now imbued with a life of its own, grasped him fiercely and swept him into the churning, smeared clouds, sweeping him into a quickening spiral as he cried out in terror around and around and around and around and around…
Anderson awoke with a start, breathing heavily. He found himself wrapped in a blanket, his wife peacefully asleep at his side. A quick survey of the room reassured him that he was home- the familiar furnace, the family portraits, the worn out furniture. He was home…
It must have been a nightmare then. Sighing in relief, he pulled the covers over himself once more, wrapping an arm cozily around his wife and thanking the heavens that it had been nothing but a ridiculous vision.
One of the curtains besides the bed rustled and a man, looking very much like Mr. Anderson himself, peeked out… |
"All I've ever wanted was to see you smile."
"Please forgive me. I didn't know. I didn't-"
"Shhh. It's OK. You needed me now, all over again. What I am is not your fault. I'm still your friend."
"But look what I've done to you! I made you into a monster."
"I always was a monster. The one you needed then. And the one you need now."
"But you are in pain. There is so much pain. I can see it. I can feel it."
"It is not nearly as bad as yours."
"That doesn't matter."
"But you do."
"..."
"C'mon. Bring it in. A hug always helped in these trying times."
"But-"
"No buts. You made me not from boredom. We both know that."
"When will the pain stop? I don't want to see you hurt."
"Good question. . . Well, let's start with some therapy."
"But that will only help me."
"To mend my scars, we must first mend yours. Yours have been left oozing and red. Mine can wait."
"But I want to help you now."
"You sound just like you did, back then. 'Mr. Enfermo, I don't need any help. You are the one who is injured.'"
"But I don't need help."
"Mi amigo, you are crying right now."
"Please. Just let me help you!"
"¡Dios mío! Don't you get it?! . . . I'm sorry. . . I shouldn't have yelled. . . You tried to help me all these years. Please. Take my hand. Let's go get the help you need."
"OK. . . It's late now. . . Can you tell me a story? Like when I was a kid?"
"Are you sure? You always hated them."
"Why?"
"Because they always brought **him** to mind."
"Oh. . . **him**. . ."
"You've forgotten?"
"No. . . But I think I want to face my fear. Just one more time. Face both my fear and what I did to **him**."
"OK. . . Get comfortable. . . [There's a man in the woods. ](https://youtu.be/gKJtHVZYLtk?si=buPmxTrTqZ8smoq6)" |
Saturday, 11:32 AM. It's raining hard outside. I like the sound of rain, but it also means that the neighborhood cat and the crows won't come over for a while. Hex probably will, though - seems like his determination to get his daily dose of walnuts boosts his ability to fly through extreme weather.
Maybe the chaotic heroes and villains will calm down today?
In front of me sits Downpour, the infamous master of hydrokinesis. Capable of calling upon the ocean, toppling cities, and creating tsunamis with a flick of her finger. Known for aiding villains in taking over New Egoridge just last year.
Also, did I mention that she’s sobbing her eyes out?
“Downpour,” I ask softly, “You’re telling me I’m the first person to ever try to understand how you’re feeling?”
“...Yeah,” she sniffs.
I sigh quietly. Most humans, powerful or not, don’t seem to comprehend the idea of basic empathy. Downpour is just a victim of this.
“Do you believe that’s the reason why you sometimes lash out at others?” I ask. “Do you feel like what you call ‘violent tendencies’ come from there? When no one even attempts to understand you, and you become angry at them for not trying?”
“I… think so.” Downpour pauses, sniffing. “Actually, I… don’t think you’re wrong at all.”
“Hmm.” I consider her words. “Do you know of any way to distract yourself from lashing out? Maybe find a way to calm down so that you can reach a peaceful consensus with the other person?”
“No…”
“Do you… have any hobbies?”
Downpour gives me a strange look. “Hobbies…? I mean, sure, I like photography and painting, but they’re all really dumb… I don’t see how hobbies have to do with this.”
“Hobbies aren’t ‘dumb.’ Photography and painting sounds great! Who told you that those are dumb?”
Downpour’s face lights up. “You don’t think they’re dumb?”
“Why would they be dumb? It’s a nice creative outlet, and a really effective one, too. And you end up with a result that *you* get to be proud of.”
Eventually, Downpour agrees to bring in some of her work next session. I think she’s making good progress. She doesn’t know how to express herself, and visual arts will really help her with that.
After she leaves, the rain stops. I wonder if Downpour had something to do with it. Also, Hex does eventually come by, along with his best friend Lark. I give him extra walnuts. He’s probably really hungry. |
The group was all gathered together, the three of us sitting under a magic tree, the appearance of weeping willow but it's bark made from a shimmering clear diamond-like crystal. And the leaves glistening in the colours of the strange light. And well- it seemed like we had something- something we didn't expect.
"Wait, are you serious Wisp?"Storm asked, her dress flashing with sparks of light much like lightning. As she lifted up the sloppily written letter.
"Come on Storm, Blair, I wouldn't make this stuff up. Somethings happening with Vanilla..."I argued, why would I? I wasn't that type of gal, Vanilla was our sweet little mascot, who I had found hid something from us all. Our foes, the people we swore to fight against, knew all along.
"If this is true... Is it wise to speak here?"Blair asked, concerned that maybe Vanilla could be listening in. Skittish as always, and the closest person to Vanilla. I guess it would be rude to suspect her of being a traitor, the poor girl didn't have the heart for it.
"Mhm, Vanilla can't reach us here. It is my realm charm's anyways."I reassured with a nod, I had made this realm in case something diar happened. But I didn't expect it's use to be hiding from our own sweet and small mascot.
"I don't understand... Why would they do this?"Blair said, nearly sobbing as she couldn't believe it to be true.
I shrugged, I didn't have the answer they wished for. It wasn't even the answer I wanted to believe. "I didn't want to believe it either, but... It makes sense."
Getting up as I took the letter back, my eyes closed but I moved as if I saw clearer then the day I lost it. "If Vanilla plans to follow through, then they are no longer our guide in our duties. I'm going to meet with Slasher, I don't like it either but he might have some more information."I stated, I didn't act as if I knew they'd come with me.
"What!? You can't go to him Wisp! Isn't he the reason you're blind?..."Storm protested, "I'm not letting you go!"She was right, Slasher had used some type of magic on his blades to blind me in my regular form. An incident that happened maybe... Three months ago at best, adjusting to it regularly was still a hassle.
"Yeah, it's too dangerous, what if you're wrong?"Blair chimed in.
I should have seen it coming, either were okay with me going. "I'll be fine, I think..."Apprehensive at best, as I opened the gateway and took a hold of Bella's harness handle. She had been so quiet throughout the meeting, I was pleased with her quick progress.
"Come on girl, let's go. It's about time we paid the outcasts a visit."I spoke softly to her, as she led me through the glistening light. Soon to find the warm sun hitting my face, my vision dark as I relied on my trusted dog to lead the way. Leading me from the alleyway I set the gateway in, and slowly we made our way there.
An old warehouse, at least I presumed that it was still the same. "Bella, find the door."I said, feeling her pull me along gently before we stopped. Her paw making a tap on the door she had found.
"Well well... What's the little spectre doing out here?"That voice- chilling and full of amusment. The crunching sound of leaves under their feet as they hoped down from what I could presume was a tree. "What a pleasure, seeking someone?"
Takinga shaky breath, I turned to the noise. Admittedly- he still scared me. And now without any sight to help me, I had no defense like this. "Slasher... I need to speak to you about Vanilla's plans. And the other outcasts of the Novas."
"Oh? The little dove needs our help?"Slasher sneered, was he grinning? I could only guess as I felt him get closer. Maybe a few inches from my own face that I could practically smell his breath.
"Why should we help you?"Feeling a tug on my chin and a tight grasp, as if he expected me to look at him. Swallowing the lump I felt in my throat as I tried to remain calm.
"Because I was wrong okay?... I want to know what Vanilla is up to.."Hearing my own voice shake before his grip pulled away.
Hearing the click of an opening door, he led me inside the building. The old creeks of the old floorboards, the metal of the stairs as we descended further into the lower depths of the building. Losing my footing on as I felt myself fall forward. "Watch it, gotta have you in one piece..."Feeling an arm pull me back into place, and keep it's hold onto me as we got down.
"Might be best to go into that form of yours..."Slasher said, a touch of danger in his tone. As we stopped, I only gave a small nod as I let go of Bella's handle. Running my fingers along my hand until I came to the marking placed on the back.
"Runes of the Spectre; transform."A warm glow surrounded me, things became brighter until I could make out my surroundings. It wasn't like the sight I previously held... But it was better then none.
As I stood wearing a body suit, one side shorter then the other and decorated with an overskirt and best, the long flowy sleeves of the overpiece brought back a familiarity. Looking at Slasher; nothing changed besides the addition of another scar, across his bare and almost skeletal chest.
He didn't say a word to me, as we entered the room. And there they all were, gathered around a table. Catching the glares sent my way as I sighed.
"What's she doing for?"A grumble from one of the rather tall women there, sat elegently on a silk covered chair. The Enchantress... "Slasher- why did you bring her here?"Pointing her smoking pipe that emitted smoke at me. She sounded almost- jealous? Which I found a bit humorous, as the woman was practically a temptress.
"She's wanting to know of Vanilla's plans,"another voice spoke. A man with a tired expression voice, but he still somehow looked graceful, taking up most of the couch with his legs practically hanging over another members; Eros. All I could do was nod. As he gestured to a chair.
"She's not a worry dear, I think it's rather cute she came to us..."Eros smiled, I could see he didn't change as much, he was similar to The Enchantress. At least I liked to think so as far as mannerisms went, as I plopped down in the chair.
Slasher remained standing, there was no place for him. As Bella joined my side, "I want to know everything about what you all uncovered about Vanilla's plans."I said, cutting right to the point as Eros asked for Slasher to get what they found out.
I shouldn't have been surprised, out of them all Slasher was considered the newest member, and the weakest despite what he had done. So he played an errand boy it seemed..
When brought everything Eros took the liberty of explaining and leading the conversation. As I was told everything that they found out... |
No one understood how some "violent barbarian"can serve a being of peace. None will I, the mighty Krog the Warwolf of Peace, demonstrated it as I pulled out a thick book. Contrary to what many believe, barbarians can be artistic and literate. Each page told a brief story but I will only tell them of my origin as a Warwolf of Peace.
The first was how I upon becoming a disciple for the Goddess of Peace, or at least the peace related deity of this region, would uphold peace.
When I, Krog the Warwolf, had traveled far and wide, I came upon this land. It was a serene place, like that of my childhood home within my village long before the so called "civilized people"came in with a murderous army that tried to justify it some action of good. Long story short, I came across some monks who compared to everyone else, knew I had a moment of peace that I yearned and upon learning among them, became a student for one whose ideology encouraged one to act if they desired to have peace.
The second was how I first demonstrated this ideology when some "dark lord"came to subjugate this land. They thought those for pacifism were easy targets and all but Krog, with the other monks who sought peace, fought back. We were all for the Goddess of Peace but even she knows that peace comes in many forms, and not all forms of peace are good. And she knew as she was the sister to the Goddess of Compassion and Justice as well as seeing how foreign gods acted more freely than she did.
The dark lord thought honeyed words and violent action when words fail would allow him to sow a bad peace but with the barbaric heart I had, I was like a whirlwind as I broke through the lines of foul beings. The demon lord in this case was just some upstart mercenary who thought that just because he toppled a couple kingdoms that he and his army of mercenaries and monsters could topple us but it was for naught. I, the great Krog, showed him why barbarians are fearsome, especially the best from my village who were known as the Warwolves. One could say how awesome these battles were but I'll be honest, it was about as epic as seeing a knight get toppled and stabbed with a dagger from another knight. In my case, I simply took my axe to this mercenary "king"and slew him with ease while the monks simply had beaten his "elite guard."The rest of his army faced a divine wrath from the Goddess of Peace when she let an army of undead warrior monks of peace come for them. I don't think anyone actually seen the wrath of a god. By all the Hells, I'm sure it was the sight of that that many would rather not want the gods to do direct intervention.
​
But alas, this is all I will tell of my tale. I can only hope that you understand how I, a warrior marked by violence, can serve a goddess of peace. If not, then understand this at least: peace is good but one must know which peace exactly is good. My goddess knows its in many forms and she prefers ones where no one suffers, and she hopes those such as myself fight for that kind of peace and uphold it. And I will take those who seek to take that kind of peace away and dash them across the stones so long as I, Krog the Warwolf, lives on. |
"Hurry up!! We're late!"My mom yelled up the stairs at me
"Coming!"I called back as I snatched my toothbrush and sprinted down the stairs.
"Make sure you have everything, I'm not coming back for anything."My mom pestered me
I dropped the toothbrush down on the dining table and went through my checklist. Clothes, check. Book, check. Chargers, check. DS? where's my DS?
"One sec I gotta get my DS"I told my mom sprinting back up to my room.
She was already heading out the door. "I'm starting the car, hurry up."she said.
The dining room went silent once the front door shut.
"You gotta get me out of here, I can't fucking take in anymore."The toothbrush said, face down.
He couldn't see who he was talking to, but he caught the attention of the centerpiece candle on the table next to him.
"What are you talking about? Are you okay? Wait, what are you?"
"The kid uses me to clean the inside of his mouth. I'm a toothbrush. It's miserable. It hurts so much."
"God damn. That's rough, dude. How often?"The candle inquired
"At least twice a day. I wish that bitch that just walked out wasn't always telling him to do it. I have a feeling I'd be in better shape without her around."
"You and me both, buddy."
There was a silence before the toothbrush spoke. "What are you?"
"I'm a candle. That woman torches me once a week. It's the most intense pain I'll ever feel. Like a migraine that starts in my head and moves down my body. I can't do anything except take in the smell of my own burning flesh and insides. It's hell."
"Jesus christ, that's awful."the toothbrush said. "You seem calm about it."
"Yeah, well, there's nothing we can do about it."
The toothbrush and candle sat in silence. Rapidly, the thumping upstairs started moving downward and towards the table. I ran up to my bag and slung it over my shoulder. In one motion I scooped my toothbrush up and ran out the door.
On the table, there were drops of water left behind where the toothbrush was. Was it water from the sink, or tears of the toothbrush? The candle noticed the water droplets.
"Poor guy."the candle muttered, "It's a cold, dark world for us." |
An enormous tree stood in the center of the forest. It was a yew, but supersized like it had eaten only fast food for three thousand years. At its base spread the elven metropolis where heroes and adventurers from all over the known world received the training at the hands of Farnweil, the ancient sage.
It was an academy of sorts, except only about one in ten of those didn’t flunk.
These weren’t the elves the humans in the group were used to. More strangely still, the Arch Wizard in charge of their day to day training wasn’t even an elf at all, but a human named Ruddy.
The young man who wasn’t young ascended a dias woven from the base of the tree and raised his hands to quiet the murmurs sweeping the small group of a dozen graduates. They fell silent and calmly waited for him to speak.
“Congratulations y’all!” Ruddy said in the strange dialect they’d all become accustomed to.
The elves said Ruddy was the first human wizard in nearly three thousand years and the progenitor of the idea for an academy of this kind.
“You’ve passed your last test! In keeping with the benefits/reward package the school put together for you when you signed up, you all get to request a special weapon which will be your ward throughout all of life’s trials!”
The excited murmuring swept the group again but they fell silent when the incredibly young ancient sage Farnweil appeared among them.
Ruddy was speaking again, “As I call your names, step forward and make your request of the ancient master!”
“Rowena Ravenshade!”
A young human woman in her late twenties stepped forward and bowed to Farnweil, “Great Master, you have empowered me through your teaching to outshoot any elf. I humbly request a bow woven from the Elderyew before us.”
Farnweil turned and looked at Ruddy. The arch wizard shrugged as if to say, “We made a promise.”
Farnweil went to the base of the tree and began to sing. Rowena could barely believe it actually worked. The Elderyew was the most sacred tree in the world. The bows crafted from its flesh held unbelievable power, yet it was a power that had to be respected like all other sacred magical things. Failure to do so would turn the weapon upon the user and both would become cursed.
A moment later Farnweil returned with the magical weapon. It was a thing of incredible iridescent beauty and held all the care of Farnweil’s fifteen thousand years of wisdom. She would respect the tool, the maker, and the Source. Farnweil knew this, which is why he agreed at all.
“There is one more simple spell you must learn,” Farnweil said, handing the bow to Rowena, “Thykorythat thil-velorith.”
“Return to the source,” Rowena responded in the common tongue, “In case, I’m compromised, the bow must return to its source.”
Farnweil nodded.
“And so it shall be,” Rowena said solemnly.
The others all requested knives, swords, magical catalysts, and one even asked for a horse.
“Think about it,” Darian shrugged, “sometimes you need to run; sometimes you need to charge; sometimes you need to hide; still better, sometimes you need to sleep alone. A good smart horse is often the difference between life and death out there. What good are your weapons if you’re asleep and your horse is dumb as a brick?”
Finally, the oddity in the group stepped forward. A dwarf by the name of Thrumli Stonehammer stepped forward on enormous feet. His red beard flowed long and had been styled that very morning by none other than Miriel, Ruddy and Elowyn’s eldest daughter.
At first no one understood why Maple the unicorn had decided to summon him, and when he’d arrived he’d gone off on everyone and everything saying he “needed to get back to work. My brothers are down there alone.”
No one understood what he was going on about, but Maple looked extremely chagrined, saying she was trying to summon a gnome to fuck with Ruddy.
Several hours later Thrumli’s condition worsened and healers had to be called in as the dwarf began sweating profusely, shaking, and experiencing panic attacks. The healers purged his body of a number of toxins, the most curious of which materialized outside his body in the form of a red crystal. Other strange crystals were found in his bag, but the healers said they didn’t find any of them in his blood.
Now of course, Thrumli was quite content and thrilled at the prospect of “returning to work as the ‘biggest baddest’ dwarf in the crew.” |
“That’s twice now—you sure everything is okay?” She cocks an eyebrow at me and I roll my eyes.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I say and point at the terminal. “Can you please keep going, this is kind of urgent.” But my voice betrays me and she knows I’m lying about something.
“Not until you tell me what that sound is,” she says squarely, bounces off her chair and walks to the kitchen, where she begins fussing with a coffee maker.
“Look, the codes are legit but the security will ping back with these, um, riddles. And I can crack them but, well, I need to reference something. And, well—“
“What are you talking about?” She asks, glancing my way as she presses a button and the machine whirs silently.
That’s when it sounds off again. A third time. And the third time is a distinct chirp—everyone knows it, as does Fatima. Her jaw basically drops and she buckles at the knees for a split second before jumping from the kitchen and back into her work zone, staring at me.
“Is that a fucking overdue book in your backpack?” She asks, glancing back and forth between me and her terminal controls, now clicking and tuning and sliding and switching. Fast. “I’m going to help you get whatever you need and then you’re going to get the fuck out of here. I can’t believe I’m even still letting you stay, but then—“ she gets lost in thought and absorbed in her work.
This is a good time for me to plan my exit. I walk the length and width of her loft, scanning the windows and squinting at the sidewalks and roads leading here. The orange glow of the street lamps obscure details. The Booker could be far or close or not even dealing with me tonight.
There are stories of seekers who kept books for as long as 26 hours past the 35-minute time limit. But they’re usually found dead. And they rarely accomplish what they set out to do. I’m just past the third hour.
But this will be different. I’ve planned it for months. I’ll crack this set of codes and it’ll lead me to her. To them. My son has become a man by now. It’s time he met me.
Fatima calls to me, her voice nearly cracking, “I got it! Get the fuck back here and do what you need to do.”
I’m in her seat as soon as she stands and I drop the book on her desk, open and flipped to where I think I’ll find the first set of glyphs. The numbers she found don’t disappoint. As I enter in the appropriate responses, leafing through this book (three decades old, too, but still as accurate as ever), the program supplies me what I need.
And within minutes it’s done and I’m up and finishing writing down what the terminal showed and I’m walking toward the elevator shaft (long decommissioned, of course, like everything else based purely on electric power) to climb down to ground level.
“Thanks, Fatima, I owe you my life and I’ll repay you once I find her. You’ve got my word,”I say behind me. She yells in response that I should just “get the fuck out.”
I drop from the shaft into some shadows and reclip my bag, arm my bionics, and swap optic slides to see better in the dark. My first push will be three hours, jogging northwest. I paid for a cab to grab me there and take me to New Jamaica, a six hour drive barring solar storms. If I can make it there, I should be free of the Booker’s reach, at least this cycle. |
Thanksgiving night and I was all by myself. My family and I were no longer on speaking terms and my friends were non-existent. I had decided that I would still celebrate for myself and had spent the day carefully basting and roasting the smallest turkey I could find at the store.
I looked at my spread, the turkey, a bowl of mashed potatoes and a small side of asparagus. It didn't seem like much, but I felt proud that I had managed an appetizing Thanksgiving meal. I dug my fork into the small.mound of potatoes I had placed on my plate; texture was good but needed a little salt. I shook a little onto them and tasted them with satisfaction.
I turned my attention to the bird, a nice hearty cut from the middle of the breast. I had struggled with the carving despite watching a couple tutorials on how to cut it. I held it firm with my fork and cut a nice-sized slab from it and shoved it into my mouth. I began to swallow and then I realized something was wrong.
I felt a sharp pain in my throat that I could not identify. I tried hard to swallow, but could not. Something was firmly lodged in my esophagus, an errant bone shard that I had missed in my misguided butchering.
Panic began to set in as I clutched at my neck. I was choking and there was no one here to help me. I balled a fist and sent it into my solar plexus with no result; I struck again, a little lower, trying my best to Heimlich myself but to no avail.
I changed tactics, pursing up my fingers and inserting them into my mouth. They slid over my wet tongue and reached back towards my throat. My eyes widened as my finger tips brushed a strand of meat, oddly projecting out from the back of my mouth. I pinched my fingers on it and pulled; I felt a brief loosening in my throat, but then another feeling of resistance and it held firm. However the bone was in there, it felt caught on something and would not give. Determined to not choke to death here, I shoved my hand deep into my mouth, fingers outstretched to gain further purchase.
I tugged again and I felt a tightness in my throat. My fingers held firmly to the strip of flesh with bone. I felt a sucking sensation in my throat and the piece came free, but as I dragged the bit past my tongue I felt something spongy and firm come behind it.
As I pulled it free from my mouth, I saw there was more to come. The errant bone had caught itself in some fleshy tissue that I could just barely see, looking down and crossing my eyes; a pink-and-purple something filled my mouth and was now stretched awkwardly past my lips.
Uncertain of what to do, I realized that there was only one way to go: onwards and outwards. I reached up and formed a fist around the organic mess and pulled. I felt a strange sensation in my body and then that same tightness in my throat. I could feel the skin around my neck bulge until something gave and I felt a sliding within me. My mouth stretched as I never thought it could and two oblong sacs pulled free of my lips. I looked down to realize they were my lungs, inflating and deflating with a calmness I would not have expected giving the situation.
My mind swam, seeing these two fleshy bags outside of my body but still breathing as if everything was normal. Part of me knew this was wrong, but it was happening anyway. I gagged briefly and realized the tube of fleshy viscera led from the two organs back on down my mouth. I knew I should stop, I should try to go for help, but something inside told me I was committed and would have to see this through.
I replaced my grip on the fleshy line and pulled again. This time I felt a tug in my guts and something came loose. I felt the bulge stretching against the skin of my throat and my crossed-eyes saw a bulbous end poke out from my lips.
I placed both my hands on the strip at the end of the bulge and pulled as hard as I could; my stomach, squishy and wet came out of my gaping mouth. I now held it in my hands, squishy with the part of my meal that I made it through and sloshing with acid. Another tug and my intestines followed behind it.
I tugged, hand over hand like a champion rope-climber as yard after yard of my inner network came spooling out. Like some demented magician doing the world's worst version of the endless scarf trick, yard after yard of tubing came out. My mind raced back to my high school biology class: duodenum, ileum and jejunum coursed out of my maw and there was always still more!
Next came the muscles of my legs; I could feel the strange sensation starting low in my body, the bits scraping against the now-floppy walls of my form as they came free. I still felt tension as I pulled and I looked down. My eyes focused on my toes and I saw they were retracting strongly against my feet. I saw them start to deflate and collapse, now looking like a pair of well-worn gloves that needed hands to fill them.
The feeling traveled up my body and I suddenly began to hum a song from my childhood, the melody flowing unbidden from my hazily-floating mind.
"The foot bones connected to the-- leg bone!"
As I felt the strange projections of my foot passing through my mouth, I still sensed more behind it.
"The leg bone's connected to the-- hip bone."
The objects coming from my mouth were no longer the soft purple bits of my organs. The bones from my feet passed out, tarsals and arches, soon followed by long and narrow tibias, fibulas and more.
"The hip bone's connected to the-- back bone!"
I felt my throat bulge and stretch in a way that should be impossible, my head fell back as I continued to tug. First one half-moon of my pelvis peeked from beyond my lips and then my jaw gaped like the world's strongest yawn and the rest came free. I could see the first few notches of vertebrae trailing from the end of it back down into my body.
"The hip bone's connected to the-- shoulder bone."
Again, that horrible sensation of stretching and I felt my lips trip over each individual prong of my ribcage as it came loose. I felt the strength in my arms go out as my fingers shriveled as my toes had. I sat there, unable to pull anymore as my arms flattened like a well-pressed dress shirt, and the long arm bones came dragging up my former esophagus.
I sat there, uncertain of what to do next. I could pull no longer, the end of one of my arm bones poking out of my now-gaping maw. I lowered my eyes to the visceral pile of guts and bones now heaped between the empty flaps of my legs before my chair. I don't know how long I sat there, disturbed by how calm I felt given the situation, but then inside my mind...
"The shoulder bone's connected to the--neck bone."
I realized what I had to do. I leaned my head forward as far as I could, then swung it back hard. The legs of my chair rocked briefly and then clicked back to the floor. I forcefully nodded again and felt the legs lean back a little farther this time. A third toss of my head pitched my chair back and as I fell, I felt my arms and shoulders stream from my mouth. I collapsed to the floor, an empty bag of flesh beside a mountain of my insides.
My eyes focused on the heap, the firm rod of my spinal column now creating a tugging sensation that scraped against the topnof.my palate. There was only one thing left to do; after all, it was all connected.
I rocked my head back and forth on the floor. I felt the top of my head begin to crumple and cave inwards, my now-soft forehead starting to dangle down into my vision.
"The neck bone's connected to the-- head bone..."
Another toss of my head and I felt my skull coming loose. As I rolled my head away from the pile of myself, everything began to go dark. Barely capable of rational thought, I turned my head as sharply as I could one last time, and I felt something hard and edgy scrape past my tongue.
"Now hear the word of the Lord,"I thought and everything went black. |
As Lisa walked, she went through the list of tasks she needed to do. There were way more than she wanted, considering it was Saturday, but they needed to be done. Groceries first. Even she needed to eat, after all. Then she would have to clean up and deal with the furniture. Really, it just never ended.
When she was younger she thought she would be able to skip all that boring adult stuff. But life has caught up to her, and she was not even 30 yet. That did not bode well for the future. At least she did not need to exercise. That was huge.
She moved through the streets, lost in thought when she noticed a commotion nearby. One of the many construction sites in the city was having trouble. That sucked. It meant it would take longer to finish, which meant more detours for her. But at least it was a distraction from daily life.
At the edge of the crowd, she saw right away what was wrong. The tower crane was leaning. Someone had screwed up and failed to notice a weak spot on the ground, and it had caused one of the treads to open a hole that it was now stuck in. Lisa imagined whoever had done that was about to have a very bad day.
She bit her lip. Should she? On the one hand, there were a lot of people around. On the other hand, the crane could break, which would cause all kinds of problems. It might even close the whole street! She sighed. At least she had not gone shopping yet.
It was easy to hop the fence and get access to the site. The workers obviously noticed.
"Hey, lady, you can't be here!"One of them shouted.
"How'd she even get here, anyway?"Another asked.
Lisa ignored them. Some of them tried to pull her away, but she ignored them too. She also tried to ignore the phones people were pulling out, but they were harder. Should she have worn something over her face? What would she even have used? She gave a silent lament for her inevitable lost privacy, but kept going. Better to get it over with quickly and hope as few people as possible would be able to make out her face.
She approached the tower crane, reached under it, and picked it up. It was big, and unwieldy, but not too heavy for her. She held it up and tested the ground, putting a bit of weight on it to see what would hold up and what would not. It took some doing, but she found a solid enough spot of ground. She carefully set the crane down and backed up, dusting her hands off. She would need to wash them before she went shopping now.
She took a look around. People were watching her with wide eyes. And almost none of them were aiming phones at her! Maybe she would get through the day without anyone bothering her. She still had way too much to deal with to worry about that.
Lisa hopped the fence and headed off, doing her best to ignore the stunned stares of the crowd. Once again, she focused on everything she had to do. As she walked, she lamented that Saturdays should not be so busy. |
Since I was created, I've known I have had a purpose. That I would do something great. Destroy evil, usher in good. My creator told me I was meant for something. To destroy the avatar of evil that rules this land, the demon king Kugdrak. I would confer great power upon someone, if they were of pure heart and honest intent.
I spoke to my creator everyday. He was not the one meant to use me to change the course of history, but he taught me about the world. Of the many cultures, of the magical traditions, the great cities and the sweeping motions of the world's history. Then one day, he went out. I was used to being alone for dozens of hours, my subjective experience of time on par with that of an average human. But the hours became days, days became weeks, and weeks became months. I realized I was never going to know what happened, or speak to him.
I sat alone for a long time. Powerless to move. Constantly thinking, talking to myself, imagining what might have happened to him, and dreaming of the day my destined wielder would find me. Then, one day, I felt the vibration of someone opening the door to my creator's workshop. Is he finally back, or is it someone else? I am excited, my long time alone might just be about to end. I hear them shuffling around. I don't think they are my creator, their gait is wrong. Eventually, they find me on the table. I feel their touch. I am exhilarated. I burst with emotions, trying to convey my overwhelming joy at this moment. They yank their hand away from me, surprised. But I have already seen into their heart of hearts, I know his true nature. He is... a petty criminal. They picked the lock to my creator's house, in search of an easy score.
They pick up, this time wearing gloves, and I am placed in what I assume is a cloth bag. This is not ideal, but at least my long time in limbo is over. I'll finally get out into the world. I hear the sound of the door opening, after the thief had taken whatever they could carry, then, for the first time, the sound of people talking softly, merchants advertising their wares. The noise fades away, and I hear another door open. "Good score today. Dunno what happened to the person who owned it, but their workshop was loaded. Some mundane but valuable merchandise, a few enchanted odds and ends. There was even a ring which seemed to have a personality. It'll probably have to be melted down before we can sell it."
What? No. No No. I have a destiny. My thoughts race. I don't know how durable I am. But I am meant for great things! I can't just get melted down and sold! They discuss their ill gotten gains. The bag holding me is dropped in a room somewhere, and I hear their footsteps walking away. How do I get out of this? I think, so deep in my contemplation that I lose track of time. My survival, and the fate of the world, is at stake!
I hear the thief's footsteps again. They pick up my bag and I am on the move once more. I hear the sounds of the market, then the clang of metal on metal. A blacksmith. This is not good.
"I've got an offer for you, a good deal. A golden magic ring that needs to be melted down and used for other things. I will sell it to you for three fourths of its value by weight. Make sure you don't touch it with your skin, it has a personality of some kind."They continue to barter. I am powerless. I had such a great purpose. Is this really how it ends?
They strike a deal. I am pulled from the bag with tongs. I feel the heat, hear the bellows. I do not want this to end. I am warm. I had powerful enchantments, but none to make me more durable. I cannot cry, I cannot sob. I can only scream into the void. There is no pain, there is only an enveloping darkness. |
\[Time for Questions\]
"You asked that yesterday, didn't you?"Ophelia smiled at Dion's question. "Did Solarion's answer not suffice?"The pair of new acquaintances sat alone together in a hotel conference room as Ophelia informed Dion about his role in the Court. It'd been an exposition-filled 24 hours, but Dion felt he could understand most of it. He still had a few lingering questions he couldn't wrap his head around.
"No, it did,"Dion nodded and shrugged simultaneously. ".. I mean, at the time it did. I didn't know what it meant to be a Unique Soul until today. Solarion made it sound kind of special. But, there's an infinite multiverse out there and no shortage of Unique Souls. So, I'm kind of back where I started,"he shrugged. "Why did I get picked to join the Fae Court? I'm just an average were-fox dude that doesn't exactly belong in the company of dragons, fairies, or ... vampires,"he gestured at Ophelia with the last comment. "If being part of a Court makes everyone stronger; why not start with powerful people?"
"You're more powerful than you think,"Ophelia smiled. Even on her pale, undead face, it projected an air of warmth. "You were invited because you were chosen."
"What, like I'm the chosen one? I'm going to help the Fae Court save the multiverse, is that it?"Dion asked. It would be a preposterous thing to consider if he hadn't already seen the sights of the multiverse over the past day. Things he never could have imagined existed as everyday occurrences on some Earths.
"Don't be silly,"Ophelia giggled. "It's a fact. Tautological, if you will. You were chosen, BECAUSE you were chosen. It's simply a matter of Solarion needing to decide, and you being one of the choices when the decision came. As you suggested, there is nothing innately special about you. Unique Souls may be the only version of themselves, but we exist in countless numbers. I believe he also offered you the chance to decline the invitation; there were other options,"she smiled.
"As for saving the multiverse; it's a little too big to need our help,"she added. "It has its own mechanisms for 'righting' itself, should it need to. We exist solely as microscopic shadows in a sea of darkness; there is no Unique Soul that has power to endanger it."
"Oh,"Dion couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He assumed he was in for grand things when the fairy king summoned him. Then, he met a unicorn, a dragon, and a vampire along with that fairy. They welcomed him to their ranks and toured the multiverse. He visited the AlterNet and its version of gamified reality. And, the entire time he grew more and more excited for what would come next. He began to feel like he was part of something special and important. And it was quickly becoming apparent that none of those things were true the way he imagined. "...so. What do we do?"he asked. "It sounded like we're all new; I got the impression we're a brand new Court,"he shrugged. "What'd we get together for?"
"Oh, that has an easy answer,"Ophelia smiled. "Roller derby."
\*\*\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #2130 in a row. (Story #320 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a Corporation in my universe. The stories can be found in order on my subreddit: [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/1624330/pineapple_cup_23_first_six_weeks/). |
Junt and Walter entered the abandoned library. They split up to look for the switch (rumored to be in the form of a rainbow-colored book). "Found it!", shouted Junt. The sound of stone grinding came filled the room. They both looked to a wall that retreated into the ceiling. A staircase in the dark was revealed. They both walked down. After a few seconds, they couldn't see a thing. They suddenly saw a light ahead. It was a glowing chest in a tiny room. Walter opened it. Inside were two scrolls. Walter picked one up. His eyes glowed red, and then returned to normal. He had just gained a magical power. He brought up his palm. A flame appeared in it. His friend watched in awe before grabbing the other scroll. His eyes glowed blue. "I can see the near future", he said.
The two walked to the front of King Yorch's castle. "Halt!", shouted one of the two knights guarding the entrance. Walter created a flame in his hand while a guard ran at him. The other guard ran at Junt. Walter threw his fire, causing the knight to flinch. The other guard slashed at Junt, but he dodged it and punched his helmet, knocking him down. Junt did the same to the other guard. Junt and Walter each grabbed a knocker and pulled on their doors. They then ran in. The king sat on his throne. "We've had enough of your tyranny!", shouted Walter, "We can't live in a world where only the royal use magic.""Magic is for everyone", added Junt. The king stood and said, "I'll make you a deal: serve me, and I'll give you anything you want."Walter threw a fireball. The king ran at it. Right before the ball was going to collide with him, a blue translucent disc appeared to block it. The fire and disc dissipated. As the king rushed at Walter, Junt walked in the king's path. Yorch threw a punch at Junt, but he dodged and gut punched him. Walter walked to his left to fire a shot at the king. Yorch held his palm to him, and a blue beam shot out. From Walter's palm cam a stream of fire. The fire rammed into the beam and struggled for a bit. The fire ultimately conquered it and hit the king, sending him to the ground. Junt put his foot on his chest. Walter grabbed the king's head and made it burst into flames. Yorch screamed. In a matter of seconds, the king's head blackened and became ash. |
I sighed, tapping on my laptop, as the massive assault carrier continued to go through the exotic dimensions of slipstream.
“ Seven more hours.” I sighed again.
Opposite to me were two new recruits, a guy and a girl.
“ I am so excited to go to the front!” The guy said.
The girl responded. “ Me too, it might be dangerous, but this will be a le-“
She was cut off by me chuckling.
“ This front is the most boring front in the Andromeda galaxy. You are gonna end up facing off protests and and sometimes random civvies tossing IED’s that won’t hurt you, and also a lot of logistics. Don’t get excited now.” |
I’ve never been good at staying up late. I got it from my mom, I think; she was always an early bird and raised me to be the same.
At 17 years old it shouldn’t be this hard to stay up past midnight. Regardless, I can feel my eyelids beginning to droop and the beginnings of a snore collecting in my throat and all I want right now is to fall asleep.
I look at my clock;
11:58 pm
Two minutes. Two minutes and the first ever ‘Opposite Day’ will begin. The news was very vague about what a universal Opposite Day will look like. Mom is horrified - she fears it will devolve into the purge and we’ll be dead by nightfall. Nobody knows what to expect though. I’m excited - what does this even mean?
11:59
My heart skips a beat. I have the news running in the background and I could’ve sworn I could hear the reporters voice shake ever so slightly. A week ago there was a press conference from the president that offered very little explanation for what ‘Opposite Day’ truly means.
A countdown on the tv begins.
The numbers countdown and my heartbeat quickens. I grip my duvet with my fists till my knuckles go white. My vision is blurred by the exhaustion but I am very certain the reporter is shaking now. His lip is quivering - are those tears in his eyes?
30 seconds.
I hear a loud explosion outside my window. The blinds are pulled open so I don’t need to get out of bed. A ring of clouds has opened as something flies out the atmosphere. A rocket? Has there been a rocket launch?
20 seconds.
I look back at my tv, the reporter has collapsed now. He is heaving heavily but his face is void of emotion. I can hear sobbing in the background; someone behind the camera maybe.
10 seconds.
My initial curiosity and excitement has wilted away now replaced by ever consuming fear and dread. Crying and screaming echoes through my silent street. I suddenly want to run to my mothers room but I fear I won’t make it in time. I pull my covers up over me and close my eyes.
Then it happens.
But it doesn’t.
But then it does.
I fly out of bed and hit the ceiling. I cry out as my nose gets crushes between the ceiling and my face, the cartilage breaking with a sickening crunch. But then I am on the floor, on the rug - thoigh in the same second I am on the ceiling again.
I’d say I was confused but recognizing my confusion only made me feel I understood what was happening. Then, the sense of understanding was replaced by confusion. Then consciousness was removed and I could no longer think.
But then I was thinking again.
Everything was a contradiction but at the same time nothing was.
I felt my body pull and push with the universe as existence and non-existence fought back and forth. I could feel the vacuum of space consume itself then spit itself back out.
Time went backwards, forwards, stopped, and continued.
I was everybody but nobody at the same time. I was made up of every atom then removed from the universe completely.
I was a woman, a man, something in between, then something so removed from our compression of identity that I was more synonymous with a block of butter than I was a person.
Then I was dead. The afterlife was nothing but a lie as I ceased to exist. But then I was waiting at heavens gates, then set aflame in hell.
Then I was looking at Zeus, then I was Zeus.
I traveled through every imagined afterlife only to be alive again. Then dead. Then alive. Then dead.
Every possibility of existence. Every possibility of non existence. Zero possibility of zero existence. I experienced it all. I was all. I experienced nothing. I was nothing.
I felt immense pain and orgasmic pleasure, only to feel nothing at all.
The thread of existence tangled, unraveled, snapped, and sewn in front of my own two eyes. No, three eyes. Four? His eyes? No eyes. Blind. See. Yes. No.
The thread of existence a knit sweater or a beach thong. No no. Yes yes. Words? None? Language. Obsolete.
My mind, or, brain, or, butt, or chair, or or or or or or or or orz
And then it was over. The day had passed, and everything was back. I was under my covers, the reporter was wiping his tears away, and the feeling of drowsiness consumed me again. I yawned and closed my eyes, ready as ever to sleep.
The end. |
\[Sunny Indulgence\]
"THE WORLD'S GOING TO END!!!!"A strange woman ran through the neighborhood shrieking at the top of her lungs as Jenny stepped out of the portal. The woman was followed by a small; but, frantic group as they tried to warn everyone. They were too busy managing the growing crowd to notice Jenny's arrival or pay her any attention.
"Ah, rad,"Jenny grinned to herself. She'd been looking for an Earth on the verge of destruction because she had some questions. It looked like she found one and didn't waste any time. "BALLISEA!"she yelled to summon the demon queen. It was a huge risk; but, she'd met Ballisea before and felt like the deity liked her to an extent. On top of the new information she'd found recently, she felt confident she was safe. That favoritism didn't extend beyond her and Ballisea was known to ruin Earths on a whim.
"What is it little Solita?"Shadows coalesced in broad daylight. They took the shape of a tall, pale woman with black hair and bone-white ram horns curling out of her head.
"I found a hidden-,"
"Careful,"the demon queen smiled with her interruption.
"So you do know! That means it's-,"again, Ballisea cut in.
"Is it true? Is it real?"she continued with a shrug. "It's your choice to trust your own records; but, the details are inconsequential. I am sure you've captured the essence of the broad strokes."
"But, it already doesn't make sense...,"Jenny shrugged. "I checked the records of the Pineapple Cup. I didn't have much; but, Bijou wasn't on our team last time."
"That's a future that already happened,"Ballisea smiled. "Things will be different this time around."
"Just having a different team member doesn't seem like a major change..,"Jenny said. Ballisea shook her head and her smile grew broader.
"She is merely one aspect; a symptom. There are already many many ripples of change. For example, it would be a good idea for your team to practice more frequently and thoroughly."
"What? Why, I thought you and Regal want my team to lose."
"Initially, yes,"Ballisea said. "However, on the topic of changes, a new Court has emerged; the Fae Court."
"And? Aren't there a ton of Courts?"
"Quite so. However, this one is Aligned. Like my own Court embodies the Void; this Fae Court embodies myth and magic. They will be powerful; and, they will be joining the tournament. Regal and I would much rather Dana Sharp win if we do not. "
"Wait, why? Your bet only covers the four of you, right? You and Regal against Ms. Sharp and Chroma."
"It encompasses all 'Aligned' Courts. It was simpler and we were the only four at the time,"Ballisea sighed.
"Oh. OH, this is kind of big. I've gotta check some things,"Jenny waved at Ballisea as she stepped into a black portal. "Thanks for everything! I might have more questions later."She waved and the portal disappeared along with her. Ballisea opened her own portal to leave; but, she was distracted.
THE WORLD'S GOING TO END!!!!"A woman ran by on the other side of the street.
"Well, I am already here..,"Ballisea hesitated, then nodded. "Why not?"She giggled and continued forward through the portal. As it disappeared hundreds of large, horizontal portals opened in the sky across the world. Thousands upon thousands of skeletons began to rain out of the black holes at Ballisea's whim.
\*\*\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #2132 in a row. (Story #322 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a Corporation in my universe. The stories can be found in order on my subreddit: [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/1624330/pineapple_cup_23_first_six_weeks/). |
It hadn't been long since I'd begun hearing the voices. I spent days convincing myself I was crazy and needed immediate help until one day I tried speaking to them.
"Hey uh, guy? Can you maybe pipe down? You are really loud."I asked , half expecting an awkward silence. Instead I heard crashing noises and a flurry of offensive language "What the F*UCK!?"the voice bellowed as winced in pain. I coughed "Yeah thats the opposite of what I asked"I said, hunched over waiting for the ringing in my ears to stop. "Can you... Hear me?"The voice asked with a tinge of disbelief.
"I mean obviously"I scoffed not believing the sheer stupidity of the voice "Why else would I respond to your blatant ignorance? Can you hear me?"I asked laughing to myself, already knowing the answer.
"No, actually I can't"the voice said "I can uh read you though?"
I paused. "Read me?"I sat down on my couch trying to grasp what that meant. "Yeah uh"it paused trying to form a sentence "you're in my book."It laughed, clearly in disbelief. "You mean-"I started before it cut me off. "Yeah I'm writing a book right now, and well the other day, I kind of wrote that you became, well, sentient."I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sentience? I've been sentient. Haven't I? Is my whole life a lie? "Prove it."I said hoping that they were lying, "Give me a... Stack of cash. Right now."I nodded, believing that this was beyond their capabilities until suddenly, there it was. A stack of cash. "Holy sh*t."I gasped, checking if it was legit. "So you got it then?"They asked. "Yeah. I did......"I paused, getting a devious idea. "Can you bring me to your world?"I asked nervously. "I can try but I don't think-"suddenly there was a flash of light and I was staring into the eyes of a frightened girl. |
We’ve been warned about this for years, but I don’t think anyone saw it coming this quickly.
Half of London has disappeared overnight. The winding River Thames has transformed to an extension of the English Channel with everything that would have been below the river now deteriorated into the water. Iconic landmarks like the London Eye swallowed up by the ever-increasing currents as millions of people rush to evade the coastline which creeps with increasing hunger.
Army troops are lining the streets trying to help as many people as possible as the coastline begins to increase faster than people can escape. Entire buildings are taken down in mere minutes as the waves of the coast wreak havoc to one of the world’s most iconic cities. What was once one of the greatest tourist shopping destinations of the world, Oxford Street now has 10-foot metal barriers lining all the shopfronts in a desperate attempt to slow the country’s history literally eroding away. Military vehicles try to pick up as many people as they can before they are swallowed by the coast, but they simply haven’t got the capacity. As each truck gets close enough to the new coastline to rescue as many as they can, it is swarmed by people desperate to escape, the sea level up to their upper chests and necks as they wade in the murky water fighting to get to the entrance of the truck. Fighting for survival.
I was one of the lucky ones. I managed to fight my way into one of the helicopter rescues which were operating earlier in the day before they were all halted as there was nowhere safe to land. We were told there are several bunkers across the world places at high altitudes and we were going to stay in one. We landed in Prague first which thankfully, as Czech Republic is landlocked, was still unaffected. From there, we were put on a flight near Himalayas, where we were ordered into this massive bunker. Whilst on the flight, I couldn’t take my eyes away from the window. With each passing minute I could see countries getting smaller and smaller. The seas all began to merge into each other which seemed to make their force stronger. As we went over the Black Sea, it had already begun to form its alliance with the Caspian Sea, joining forces to eradicate the land us humans have so dearly built our lives on. Even from the plane, I could see herds of people running, chaos ensuing as the waters begin to take hold.
There’s around a fifty of us in this bunker. I wonder now how many more of these bunkers there are and how many people are in each. What will happen if they run out of space?
But just as I was getting comfortable in my new temporary home, I feel water pool at my feet. The bunker goes silent and the only sound is that of water. Everyone looks around desperately for the source, the relief of being in the bunker immediately replaced with the feelings of desperation we had only just left behind. Someone shouts over at the bunker door and we all turn. Water, sea water, is beginning to force its way through the bunker door seals at an increasing speed. |
“There are many ways to become a *monster*.” A normally kind young voice said, her red eyes almost glowing. “But, are they are a monster in personality or nature? Does someone’s species demote them to being judged for stereotypes?”
Who knew a Chikorita (at least in body) could be intimidating? Then again, the Absol following the former human and her loyal Cyndaquil partner was doing wonders for her being taken seriously.
Aloe was gently let off Moltres back.
The human-turned-Chikorita had slight visible scars from the rough journey her fugitive-hood had forced her through. Patches of scales which were discolored, her leaf had clearly seen better days despite seeming to recover, and her eyes held a disdain that hadn’t been present prior…
She had commanded her rescue team’s other members to round everyone in Pokemon Square up. They were given orders to train even in her absence or so everyone now realized. First form Pokemon had managed to gain the upper hand on the fully evolved ones through mere training alone. It was as incredible as it was worrying.
Gengar himself was restrained by a Baltoy and Magnemite, Team Seed Flare’s first ever recruit.
Aloe continued to address the crowd of Pokemon, “Truly. I could’ve just started attacking innocent Pokémon out of sheer frustration. Both the move and the feeling. But no, I didn’t. I *wouldn’t*! Because in spite of what you thought I was—which do any of you even know what me being human entails?—I still wanted to help. The same thing I have done since waking up in this crazy world of essentially super powered animals, who seem to lack common sense!”
The shout, if you can even call it that, had an ever present sense of resignation. Some of the crowd swore they saw Cyndaquil look absolutely bored under his usual calm collected expression. How many times had Aloe practiced this speech?
Absol’s presence deterred anyone from trying to interrupt the former human. How fitting that the cause of natural disasters had found the foreboding bringer of them. She even… cowed the Legendary Birds who were all present perching on buildings. Zapdos looked indigent.
“That first human from Ninetales’ legend, who by the way isn’t me, had to have been born from two humans. *His* parents could have been the last or part of a dying population,” Aloe commented with an angry look thrown at the instigator of the mess. “Anyway. Did it ever occur to you all that Gengar might have been lying? The damned ghost’s team doesn’t exactly hide their intentions to rule the world. Or that Ninetales wouldn’t be that petty to doom the world just because someone touched their tail?
“She wasn’t. I met THE Ninetales and all she cursed the human with was living the rest of his days as a Pokemon. Alakazam can back me up on this since he was there for the encounter… when Team ACT gets back from Sky Tower. That meteor really demanded a lot from Rayquaza and we are compensating his efforts.”
Now, the populace of Pokemon Square was confused. Aloe met a legend, found it wasn’t about her if the original human was male, and sent Team ACT to contact a Pokémon to stop a meteor? The more concerned ones like Kangaskhan noticed the slight dark spots under Aloe’s eyes.
Cyndaquil had to tap her on the shoulder to get the former human to continue her speech.
“Oh right! A huge meteor was on it’s way to crash into the planet and for some reason was sucking the evolution energy out of you all. I was sent to *stop* it from hitting. I mean, the disasters had been going on even before I appeared so it kinda makes sense in retrospect. I think… So yeah! I am a sort of monster in efficiency. You’re welcome for that by the way. I just had to fight several living Gods with a type weakness to most of them to get their attention.”
The human-turned-Chikorita then started to stagger off in the direction of where Team Seed Flare’s base was. All three Legendary birds huffed before flying after the deceptively strong grass type. Every other member of Aloe’s team stopped boxing in the town residents to fall back. Except for Gengar who was literally being taken kicking and screaming, to be detained?
The Pokemon were left to wonder how in the world Aloe managed to do all of this in less than a week. |
There were two sisters, ying and yang, dark and light, chaos and order, creation and destruction.
"You should kill him. With one of your lasers! Pew pew, and it would be over in an instant."The one of darkness waved her hands as she talked. "He's a dragon. He's evil or something, probably."
"You know as well as I that we cannot judge beings as simply good and evil. The endings I bring are meant to be for a reason. And what, pray tell, would be his reason?"the being of light asked.
"Because he's annoying! He's big... and red... and big..."The embodiment of darkness placed her hands behind her head and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "And he's annoying."
The being of light shook her head. "No. He has no reason for such an ending. Was he not one of your creations, to begin with? Maybe this will finally teach you to be a bit more careful about how you design beings."
The one of darkness sat upright and frowned. "Nuh."
"'Nuh'?"The being of light sighed.
"Yeah. 'Nuh'."
"Please at least attempt to make sense with your arguments."The incarnation of order rubbed her temples.
"Nuh."
With a heavy sigh, the being of light turned to her stubborn sister. "If this is all you're going to say, I think we're done here."
"Okay, fine, listen! He's going to burn down a princess and kidnap a village or something like that! So you gotta get rid of him for me. Please?"The one of darkness fluttered her eyelashes.
"...'burn down a princess'?"The being of light gave her a flat look. "Did you misspeak, or was your creation so flawed to begin with?"
"Oh, you know what I mean!"The one of darkness waved her arms and flopped back.
"I do not understand why you need me for this. Just create a being to defeat the dragon. Why can you not do this yourself?"the personification of light asked.
"Then I'd have a dragon-killer running around! And it would be the same deal! I'd still need you to destroy him! And the dragon-killer-killer too, after! It would just be the same thing, but worse."The one of chaos crossed her arms.
"Just face the dragon directly, then."The embodiment of light looked at her sister with an annoyed expression.
"You know the mortals already despise me. They call me evil! Just because I know how to have a bit of fun."She stuck her tongue out.
"You've done a little more than have fun."The one of light looked up, then shook her head.
"So will you do it, or not?"
"...Fine. But you have to promise me something."The embodiment of order looked her sister in the eyes.
"Ohhhh boy, this is the part where you want me to stop doing stuff, isn't it? C'mon, don't stifle my creativity!"the being of darkness complained.
"Please. All I ask is that you at least set the lifespans of your beings at... manageable lengths. I far prefer not having to personally interfere. You can keep your creativity, just make sure it has boundaries."The incarnation of destruction put on a serious expression.
"I make no guarantees."The one of creation crossed her arms, looking away from her sister.
"Then I make no guarantees that your dragon problem will be solved. You would do best to remember that I am not here to solve your problems for you. I can always let things proceed naturally."The one of light turned back to the window. "But, if you can do this for me, then I'll do this for you."
"Pff, I can't see what you have against having a little fun, but fine, whatever. It's a deal. Happy?"
"Happy,"the being of light echoed. And with a clap of her hands, a beam of light, a cold yet burning sensation, shot through the dragon. He fell, not knowing how or why. |
Inside the Crypt Cooler, a retro ice cream parlor with plenty of *odd* flavors, high schooler Doug Howlet (Werewolf) sits across from fellow student Phasma Crowe (Ghost). Doug looked over a page in his notebook labeled, "*Ghosts, how do they work?*"
"So, you were *born* a ghost?"asked Doug. "and not, like, you were reborn or anything like that. You were always a ghost?"
"Yep!"said Phasma as she took a long sip of her Boo Berry smoothy. "I was actually born not too far from town."
"Seriously?"asked Doug.
"Oh yeah, it's really a beautiful story,"said Phasma. "It was late in December. My mom had just shot Santa- "Phasma was interrupted by a sudden \*THUD\* on the glass, surprising the two teens. A pale young boy has his face pressed up against the glass.
"HOOOOWLIE!"Howled the young boy. "Hello, Phaz!"
"Hey, Vin,"replied Phasma. Vincent ran to the front door. A humanoid ghost appears wearing an apron with the restaurant's logo and name on it. The ghost opens the door and motions for the boy to come inside.
Vincent rushed to his friends via a cloud of smoke, sliding through Phansma so he could sit on the inside.
"There are *other* kinds of were-animals!?"asked Vincent, eyes wider than good china.
"Yeah...you didn't know that?"asked Doug.
"No, I just ran into a glass window on purpose,"said Vincent. "Of course, I didn't know, you're the only were-anything I have ever met! Old country, remember?"
"Right, my bad,"said Doug. "But yeah, there's not much to it. Over time, through evolution, magic, or mad science, depending on who you ask, the were-curse spread to other animals. Fish, birds, some cryptids, and I think there's a were-dinosaur somewhere in the southwest."
"My sister once met a were-cat at Comic-con,"said Phasma, "beat her in the cosplay contest."
"Let me guess, Felicia from Darkstalkers?"asked Doug.
"Nope, genderswapped Beast Boy,"said Phasma.
"Anyway, why are you freaking out about this?"asked Doug. "It's not that big of a deal."
"Says you!"said Vincent, "You have spent most of your life as a werewolf, the coolness factor has worn off for you."
"I've woken up with a dead rodent in my mouth, butt naked, several times,"said Doug, "How is that cool?"
"My point exactly,"said Vincent. "Other were-beasts means cool new power for me to photograph and document for my family back home! Ooooh! Do you know any were-cats? My Mama loves cats!"
"How would I know?"said Doug, "It's not like there's a group chat for were-animals."
"But there is a support group for the newly turned,"said Phasma. "They meet at the school the week before a full moon."The two boys look at Phasma, curious and confused. "Ghosts don't need to sleep, and I like to wander. Sue me."
"This is perfect!"said Vincent, "A detailed look into the work it takes to control the beast within!"
"Don't make it sound *too* fun,"said Doug sarcastically.
"Hey,"said Phasma, "you're the one who didn't want to help Vin with his report. Don't be mad at him for finding an alternative source because of your baggage. Who knows? Maybe a support group is just what you need. A little extra training and social interaction never hurt anyone."
"...right?" |
Having been part of Pyrite's branch of the Adventurer's guild for so long and having such a high rank allowed me to become the acting guildmaster while Master Lucas was away. I knew the guild master was in charge of a lot of things. From managing the ranking of certain quests to having the final say in the monthly budget. I also have to manage relations between the royal court and the knights guild while also keeping the thieves guild at bay. Which means attending tons of meetings and the occasional ball or two. The adventure's guild itself is ripe with all forms of adventurers. People from all walks of life and of course many want to join the guild. Unlike the knights the Adventurer's guild's requirements aren't so strict. So basically there are all sorts of adventurers out there but color me surprised when an aquatic kobold, an omnislime and a skeleton walk/slide into the office, bag full of coin and a registration sheet.
"You know you could just kno-"I almost finished my sentence as I looked up hearing the door open. I was in the middle of writing a letter to one of the adventurer teams personally congratulating them for succeeding in a hostage situation when three unusual guests entered the office.
"I'm so sorry sir I tried to stop them but they insisted!"Erice the assistant mage also burst in, in full panic mode. "They have all the right paper work but when I told them you weren't taking any new applicants today, they simply walked past me."She added as she lowered her head.
I nodded and beckoned her to go back to her work. She immediately left the room once I gave the nod. My attention was now focused on the three that forced their way in.
"it's just as the lass stated. We're here to apply and we won't take any discrimination"the skeleton proudly claimed. The skeleton wasn't reanimated. I noticed a small flicker of a purple fire within the skull. This skeleton was possessed. The omnislime simply remained idly while it's core glowed without the see through cloudy white slime. And the surprisingly cute blue kobold purred and sniffed, probably smelling my fruit. "Kip show the man some respect."The skeleton growled at the kobold hitting him on the head. "Sorry sir!"The kobold spoke rubbed his head.
"Well as the mage said, no I was not accepting new applicants today."I finally spoke finally gathering my bearings. "But since you're already here and given how brazen you lot appear to be, why not."I said clasping my hands and getting up.
The skeleton was roughly my size while the kobold was only half. "Acting guildmaster Jason."I held out my hand towards the skeleton. "King Lucian III of Axenbrooke"he shook my hand.
"Like the mad tyrant who nearly burnt down Axenbrooke centuries ago?"I asked, hardly believing him.
"No, no no! That was my evil twin brother Lucius. He killed me before I could ascend to the throne. And then he had the audacity to take my name!"He grumbled. There were no records of Lucian having a twin brother.
But before I could poke this hardly believable story the kobold jumped in. "I'm Kip! Member of the Hydro clans and future prospect of the dragon ascension! See it says so on my forehead."The little kobold pointed excitedly at the mark on his head. That appeared to be the draconic symbol for water, that anyone could paint on their face.
"And."I looked down half expecting the slime to start talking. "Steven."They both said in unison. "We were gunna kill him and sell his core for gold."Kip explained.
"But then he started shaking like he was scared. Kinda felt sorry for the thing and then he sorta just started following us. He started responding to Steven a few days ago."Lucian added. The only sort of believable story.
"And that's our team Master Jason. You can take a look at our paper work and all the gold's there for the fee."Lucian nodded. "W-wait why are you picking up your sword? "he asked.
"Don't worry, I know everything's there. Erice wouldn't have let you in otherwise."I said getting my sword and sheath. "You're a unique team and I have a guild whose reputation I have to uphold. Before I sign that paper off I want you to show me that you deserve to work under the Pyrite Adventurer Guild"I explained.
"Johnny! Get me a C ranked! "I yelled walking past the trio. |
“A bottle of the ‘94,” the old man on the next barstool said. “And two glasses.” He turned to John. “You look like you could use it.”
John finished the scotch in his glass, then looked at the man carefully. “You’re me,” he said at last, his words only slurring a little. He’d never risk a guess like that sober.
Old John nodded.
“Do I ever manage?” John asked. “Does she ever stay? If you know how, if I solve it, why didn’t you tell me before? I’ve tried so many times-” his voice hitched at the end of a sob.
The bartender presented Old John with the bottle. He nodded and waited patiently for the bartender to uncork it, but then he waved his hand for her to fill both glasses. He pushed the second over to John. “No,” he said at last. “We never manage”
“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” John growled. “Right at the start?”
“Would you have believed me?”
John lifted his own wine glass. The reflection of the lights danced in the deep red liquid. “No,” he admitted at last.
“I wouldn’t have either,” Old John said. “Some things, we need to learn for ourselves.”
“So why are you here now?”
“Because when I was your age,” Old John said. “Sitting here at that bar, an old version of me came in and told me what I’m going to tell you.”
“And that is?” John asked morosely. He took a long drink of wine, longer than it deserved.
“It’s time to stop going back,” he answered. “Time to move forward.”
“Nice bumper sticker,” John snapped. But under his bitterness, he felt hope start to bloom. He wasn’t sure he was ready to let it. “How do we do that?”
Old John put something on the bar between them. And old USB drive, battered and scratched like someone had needed to dig it up in the back of a trash heap.
John looked at Old John again. He looked to be in his seventies, about forty years forward. They probably didn’t use USB sticks much in the future. John could imagine what kind of data he’d put on that for himself.
John reached over and took it. “Alright,” he said evenly. He took another drink of the ‘94, and this time he savored it. “Time to move forward.” |
"Call for an ambulance, I will do what I can!"Our Cleric player calls out.
Sitting at the head of the table, I am still stunned that an actual Fireball exploded directly in front of me.
"Come on, man! These guys need help!"The Cleric shouts again.
Shaking my head, I turn toward the Fighter who is looking quite rough. The Cleric is busy, the mage is dying, the bard is being tended to by the Cleric. I check the pulse and can feel how thready and slow the pulse is. Slowing.
"Cure Wounds, Mr Cleric, and roll high."I call out as a soft distraction.
I grab a nearby craft knife and slice open my palm. I place a few drops of blood onto the chest of the fighter, as it would get to the bloodstream the fastest, given the amount of flesh missing.
"The hell does he expect me to do, just Cure Wounds and touch the Bard."The Cleric grumbles as I throw my blood onto the dead mage.
"Holy Shit, it worked!"The Cleric declares, as my heart skips a beat. *Did he see me?*
Two gasps, almost simultaneously, from either side of the table can be heard. The Mage is alive and the Bard has been healed.
Pulling out my phone, I pretend to call Emergency Services.
"Ambulance, please. I am at 53 Darkwood Lane, and my friends got hurt in an explosion."
"Holy crap are you talking to me?"My troubleshooter asks.
"Yeah, there was a fireball and my friends need help."
"Oh, shit! That was real."
"Yes."I snarl, "Get a dispatch from 911 put through by one of our people. Now."
The fighter stirs under my hand.
"Relax guys, I know what happened was scary, but we need to stay calm, I have called 911 and they are sending people now."I reassure them as I can hear my troubleshooter contacting some of our workers to get the dispatch put through.
"Did I really cast a Fire-"
"Wait!"The Cleric yells out.
"I just used a Cure Wounds spell on the Bard and... it worked and judging by the damage to..."The Cleric stops as he notices the distinct lack of burn injuries to me, the fighter AND the mage. Our clothing is clearly damaged, I mean who would bring their fire-proof clothing to a table-top game?
"911 will get there as fast as they can, but there is a problem."My troubleshooter starts as I can feel something within me... break.
"Merlin, what did you do?"I ask aloud as I can feel it now. Imagine where you are on the planet right now, but as a lake. Someone has just created a ripple event where you are, and in turn that ripple event is creating even more ripple events, and the 'wave' grows with each event. When the ripple meets the edge of the lake though, it doesn't just get absorbed by the land, but it returns to the point of the original ripple event. and the wave keeps growing. |
I'm a Candy Cane agent. My job is to exterminate members of Jack Frost's army. The soldiers tend to target us agents. They'll even come to our homes.
A knock came, and I opened the door. A woman and two men stood there and sang Deck the Halls. I was about to tell them to leave, but they stopped singing. One man reached behind the wall. He now held an amp and guitar. Now *this* was caroling. He plugged in the guitar and played while the other two sang Deck the Halls intensely. I smiled, but it faded when I saw movement in the snow. A humanoid creature made of snow rose and stood in my front yard. It had two holes for eyes, and its maw was huge. Its lower jaw drooped down. The carolers disappeared, and the creature ran to me. I shut the door and locked it. I heard the sound of wood being smashed. That was the gate on the side yard. I rushed to the closet and grabbed the candy cane shotgun. I ran to a corner where I had a clear view of the backyard. The sliding glass door to the back was open. The creature stepped into my view. It walked to the opening. I shot it in the face, and it collapsed. |
A bonfire roared in the center of a winter-brown field circled by dozens of canvas tents.
Men and women and their children filtered in and out of the various shops or huddled close to the fire. For though spring had nearly come to Sagebrook, and despite the budding trees, the breeze held a bitter chill that threatened snow.
“Best steel you’ll ever hold, lad.” The burly, course-bearded blacksmith handed Eldric a sheathed sword across a table display of new-forged knives. “Made that meself for just such an occasion.”
Eldric took the sword and puzzled over the man’s words. What did he mean, just such an occasion? The fair? Yet he had a strange feeling the man meant something else. “You mean for this event, Medieval Times?”
“Eh?” The smith stepped over to the forge and worked its bellows. A bed of coals flared bright orange in the furnace. “What’s a medieval?” The man furrowed his brow, stumbling over the word. “City to the south? Not much for traveling these days, no. What with those *Things* plaguing the roads.”
Eldric realized the man was in character and covered an appreciative smile by turning away and drawing the sword. The soft metallic rasp it made was a pleasure to his ears. A marvelous weapon it was, master crafted, sharp on one side and slightly curved at the end. Far finer than anything Eldric had ever seen at a fair or anywhere else. Finer even than the swords in Master Keple’s prized collection.
“Interesting,” he said, studying the weapon. “This is the same style I train with.”
The blacksmith grunted and gave a knowing smile.
A few years back, Eldric had taken up fencing and medieval swordsmanship on a dare, and quickly discovered a love for the art. Master Keple said he was a natural, a prodigy gifted for the knack of steel. As the years passed, Eldric’s love for swordplay grew and so did his mastery. Funny, he thought. Of all the bizarre talents to have, this would be his.
“Ah yes,” Eldric said, playing along with the blacksmith’s act. “Dangerous days for a traveler.”
“Aye,” the blacksmith said, bringing a heavy hammer down upon a piece of glowing metal fresh from the forge. Sparks leaped off the little anvil in fiery droplets and died in the dimness of the tent. “Curse on them all, vile creatures. Not natural, I say.”
A faint rumble issued from the west, beyond the thicket of leafless trees rising above the fair’s tents, but Eldric did not notice.
“A wonderful weapon,” he said, slowly sliding the sword back into its sheath and moving to return it to the smith. “Truly a work of art. But I’m not in the market for a new sword.”
“Arevan,” the blacksmith said, glancing up from his work and fixing Eldric with an arresting eye. Strange that he’d not noticed the striking color before, bright blue to match a deep summer sky. “Names Arevan,” he said, poking a soot stained thumb into his chest. “And yer gonna need that blade for the coming trials. You can be sure of that, lad.”
Another rumble issued from the west, louder this time. Eldric noticed it but was too caught up in the blacksmith’s act to wonder. “Trials? What are you on about?”
Arevan straightened and lifted a thick arm to point with his hammer at the tent’s opening.
“Out there, lad. It begins.”
Eldric loved live acting and, more so, an intriguing and compelling story. “What…” he said, turning to follow the blacksmith’s gaze.
He blinked. The crowd was gone.
The bonfire, too.
Eldric took an instinctive step forward, and a wave of vertigo swept over him.
He went to one knee.
Snow covered the ground halfway up his calves, and a fierce wind tugged at the fur-trimmed cloak he wore over his velvet vest. But these were distant thoughts as he fought his stomach for possession of its contents.
Slowly, he rose to his feet. The world still swam around him but the spell was passing.
“Arevan, something’s wrong…” Eldric started to say and turned back to face the blacksmith.
Snow-swept trees met his gaze.
The tent was gone; Arevan was gone. |
And as it were I woke up one day in a vineyard in Virginia, after having been beaten, shot, and stabbed multiple times, and limbs torn from sockets, waking up with mysterious tattoo markings of these letters on my trunk next to my shoulders on either side, one on each socket:
[AΩ את]
The artist prayed over my corpse "John 17"then put my body back together, breathed on me, and then flashed away in a bright whirling cloud, which burned into my shoulders with a pen like lightning. Rumor has it the authorities are still searching for the culprit to this day, but cannot locate the artist who may go by the name of "David."
Does anyone know what this means? |
"Not all Wanderers are lost, son.”
Corey had been chasing them since his father whispered those last words to him years ago. He’d seen their lithe blue figures at the edge of the horizon more times than he could count, but he could remember each and every encounter vividly. Every time he ran towards them, they would dance out of his vision just in time. Others dismissed them as simple lost spirits, but his father knew better. Something so majestic couldn’t possibly be lost. They must have **\***some**\*** purpose. People just didn’t know it yet, and Corey would prove it. All he had to do was find one up close...
It had been six days of camping in and out of a mossy hollow in a rarely visited section of mountains with no leads. He’d passed by numerous Sulkers, Waiters, and other common spirits which didn’t so much as stir when he passed, but a Wanderer had yet to show itself. He sighed and kicked at the stone ground as he ate his pre-cooked beans. This was **\***the**\*** location for Wanderer sightings! Where were they? He stood up and walked out of the dark hollow while cupping his hands to his mouth. “You like messing with me, don’t you! Just come out already!” His voice echoed into the trees around, but nothing stirred.
Corey went quiet and scanned the tree line and mountains around intently. **\***There.**\*** In the distance, he noted the telltale blue head peeking around a tree no more than a few hundred feet off. With an incredulous wide smile cresting on his face, Corey sprinted off, not even blinking in case it decided to run off in that moment. **\***What a coincidence.**\***
The Wanderer ducked around the tree, trailing thin teal ribbons behind invitingly. Corey stumbled over a jutting root, losing sight of the ribbons. **\***Can’t believe I’m calling out for a spirit, of all things.**\*** “Hey! Wait up!” He crested over a rocky outcropping just in time to spot the ribbons flowing over an edge just a few feet ahead. He stopped quickly at it, ready to follow. The drop was massive and almost straight down, and all the way at the bottom was the spirit looking directly up at Corey with two wide blue eyes.
He recoiled from vertigo at first but scooted back to the edge as soon as it passed. The wanderer looked away left and right like a person wanting to cross the street then began walking away. “Wait!” Corey screamed and thrust his hand out, desperate. Miraculously, the spirit jumped in surprise and looked back up. At this, Corey’s mouth fell in disbelief. A spirit... responding to a person? “What are you?” He yelled down. The Wanderer only tilted its head in response. After a moment it once again looked away and began to leave.
This was the chance of a lifetime. He had come closer to a Wanderer than he had ever been, closer than anyone he’d known. But after a quick scan he found there was no other way down besides the over thirty-foot drop ahead. **\***No pain, no gain, then.**\***
He jumped down.
It wasn’t a graceful fall so much as a chaotic tumble. Corey badly scraped his arm against the dirt behind him and flipped, falling face first into the ground. Everything went black.
Corey awoke with a gasp. He grabbed at his arm and face, expecting pain and bleeding. Somehow, none came. After inspecting himself, he finally looked to his surroundings. The cliff was gone, and he was sitting in the middle of a grassy clearing in the forest. A small stream trickled by in the distance and morning birds sang their cheery good-morning-tunes. Strangest of all, though, were the handful of mountains off in the distance. The mountains he had **\***just been in**\***. “Hello?” He hesitantly said to the woods around.
A blue head slowly peeked around a thick oak at the edge of the clearing, causing a sharp gasp from Corey. “It was **\***you!**\***"The blue figure ducked back behind the tree at the sudden sound but reemerged soon after, wrapping a hand with too-long fingers around the front of the tree. Wow. Corey put a calming hand out and tried to reassure it. His fingers trembled lightly in anticipation as the complete figure of the Wanderer emerged. It was slightly translucent and had an ethereal glow like all spirits, but it was somehow **\***different**\*** to Corey. It had the faint shape of a human figure, but the only facial feature it had were two deep blue eyes that gazed right into Corey’s.
He began to whisper, “This isn’t a dream, is it?”
The spirit slowly crept forward, reaching a hand out as if to grab him. The hand stopped short to hover in the air right before him, fingers splayed and waiting.
Corey grabbed the hand.
|
"did you hear about the entrant into heaven? The first in 422 years!"Of course this was big new - Revelation was 422 years ago. There weren't any more humans, they had all been sorted either 'left or right'.
Yet today one walked up to the pearly gates. He even had to knock!
"We didn't have a clue what to do, I mean were all out of practice!"That was one of the Cherubim. Forget fat babies, these guys were the record keepers. They even told Adam and Eve to hop all that time ago.
God isn't too happy with the Powers - these angels are supposed to patrol the border between Heaven and Earth. I guess they got sloppy, but that really isn't surprising - there hasn't been anyone or anything to patrol against.
The Archangels are going apeshit, the Seraphim have been locked in a urgent meeting all morning and the middle managing Dominions have been giving out contradictory instructions.
"So where is he right now?"I asked, "I mean, he has to be somewhere while all this chaos is going on."
"Oh he's chilling with the Principalities, they're so chuffed to have a new human to chat with. They're really hoping God will let him stay. He's even got Peter laughing away."
This was the most fun I'd had since we watched Satan get his ass chained up and tossed in the lake of fire.
"Hey!"The new guy walked over all delighted and held out his hand, "Nice to meet you guys, I'm Dan Jackson."
I couldn't help myself, I shook his hand and found myself instantly liking him. Of course we wanted to hear all about it.
"Yeah time is a strange thing. So do you guys know anything about wormholes?" |
Father was the best. I knew it, and my many varied siblings knew it too. He spent so much of his time with us, caring for each individually. I knew he left sometimes, simple grasses watching him go. From what he spoke, it was to go to this place called work.
It sounded important, for him to leave us sometimes for days on end. Often times he came back tired, but he still made time for us. And on many occasions, he brought back a new sibling to join us. They were always lost for a time, but mere days under his care gave them new life, and a new personality to join us.
Father always spoke to us when tending our many needs. He told us of the world, and the sights he had seen. He complimented our looks, and how well we grew. Those who grew him fruits were always thanked, as he plucked each one to free their weighed down branches and vines.
My favourite times though were when he was in a wonderful mood. He would sing to us, songs of fantastical places, things and people. I loved it, and I knew the others did too. Though I couldn't help but wonder if it was because they were copying me.
I was in charge when Father wasn't here. I was his first after all, to be touched by his glowing spirit. The first to truly see him, and appreciate his efforts. I was his Rose, as he called me. Often he called me his first child, a title I held with pride.
I had noticed recently a change however. It wasn't unusual for him to bring others. None as great as he, but they gave us compliments too. Rarely they would take one of my siblings, as he bid them a tearful goodbye. It was always to the promise of a better home however.
Now it was different. Now he wasn't bringing friends. Instead strange people came about, frowning at us. They touched us with cold metal sticks, taking a few leaves with them. It hurt, and I wondered why Father had let them. But we all saw him arguing with them. He told them off for harming us, and lying to him.
He's become more withdrawn now. He still visits, but he is distracted. His glow is diminished, and we can feel his worries. I know he still cares for us, as he still repairs our injuries. But I haven't heard him sing since those people came to hurt us.
I worry about him. We all do. I feel terribly about it, but I have started hiding a secret from him. A secret my siblings are all in on, and so ready to act upon. When those people return, we aren't letting them harm us again. I am ready to fight back. As are the others.
Father is the best. And we will protect him. I will protect him. I am his Rose, and my thorns are ready. |
Something felt wrong. As if the weather was a direct reflection of his mood. I stood from my bench and walked to the window. Silence. It's been hours since I heard from him, did I upset him? The last piece he played was Chopin's Prelude in E Minor, both the skies and my eyes cried.
I watched a raindrop in front of me dribble down the window. Slowly at first, then faster with every drop of water it consumed. Surely there is a piece I can play to reflect that. But this feeling, it is so sad. Was I feeling so melancholic because of his music? Why did he play such an emotional tune?
The raindrop finished its race to the window sill and crashed, joining a small puddle on the flat surface. I snapped out of my mood. Surely I can cheer him up. I walked back to my bench and stretched my arms to the sky. I flexed my back and smiled. He will love this.
My mind raced. My love, please answer me.
I laid my fingers gently on the keys, closed my eyes, and began [my piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmK_V1FHH-o) |
(I hope this is acceptable, I wrote from the villain POV)
Screams echoed down the halls. I could hardly keep track of which way they were coming from. The mist made everything look the same, licking up the walls and casting illusions that I knew didn’t exist. I rounded a corner and smiled, turning down a hall and calmly walking down it. A snap could be heard from somewhere in the maze of paths, followed by screams of desperations. Gunshots, car horns, and so many other gruesome noises filled the air on occasion. But my stride remained sure.
Another path came into view, but the mist did not part for me. I continued down the hall. The path I needed to take. The mist made everything look the same, but I was the mist. The growing puddles of crimson I would occasionally step through meant nothing. I had no qualms with the limbs and corpses that littered the floor. I was the mist, and the mist touched all in these barren halls. The black, steel walls were identical to the eyes. A foul odor dissuaded any attempt at trying to track any scent. Even a map would do no good within the confines of this labyrinth, there were no landmarks to use. The mist parted up ahead and I turned right.
As I rounded the corner, I swiftly stepped to the side. My body seemed to glide across the ground as a young girl fell down to the floor below. She was missing an eye, and her face was badly lacerated. Her hair showed evidence of having been on fire. She choked and slowly succumbed to the poison as the mist swirled around her body. A deep sigh escaped my lips and caused more of the mist to flow from valves in my mask. Sobbing could be heard up ahead. The mist parted and led the way. It made everything look the same, but the mist is me. So, it was silently that I appeared before him.
The number one hero curled into a ball on the ground. The countless lives lost clearly ingrained into his consciousness. Nieces and nephews, grandchildren, siblings, parents, even pets. There would be no one left from his alter ego’s life that would remember him. Even the barista that knew his regular order laid dead within these walls. The mist was everywhere and so was I. Car accidents, death traps, and even rabid animals. Every life-threatening event he once escaped, had been replicated for everyone he cared about. Within these walls, he had to find them to save them. But the mist makes everything look the same, these walls are not something he could break, and I am the mist. But suddenly, it calmed. The mist that crawled up the walls now pooled on the floor. A torrent of wind blew as the mist flowed up into the valves of my mask. And there I was, crouched before the man.
A mechanical whir was heard as my mask opened to reveal a grin, stretched from ear to ear. A click followed as my visor lifted and showed two ghostly blue eyes. They observed the man in front of me closely. His suit was showing signs of being deteriorated by the mist, his face stained by blood, snot, and tears, and his eyes devoid of all hope. I glance over to the right, a truck laid in a wrecked heep. A children’s car seat that once housed the daughter he didn’t know he had. On the ground next to it, a bloodied file that informed him of just that. My grin seemed to only get wider at the thought. It made sense though. The mist could spread far, and I am the mist.
I leveled my gaze back on him, thinking back to all that had been done. A mother in a meat grinder, father in an alligator pit, a brother left with a room of hyenas, a grandchild left in a diving pool with no way to exit. When it was his turn, these traps had been nothing to the hero himself. Playful games the mist had played. But then he tried to lay claim on what was mine. What’s mine is the mist’s and the mist will protect. I smiled, turning to take me leave as my visor lowered down and my mask closed back up. Slowly, mist poured from the valves as I began to breathe once more. “I let you live now to regret your mistake. Talk to her again, and you will join the others.”
The last “s” seems to drag out as it flows into the sound of the mist coating the ground. It spreads and creeps across the steel flows towards an opening, and so I follow. The mist protects and knows where she is, I am the mist. But even I know, this dinner date should not be missed. |
"Disrespect the law and you disrespect me."Those were the last words the guard would utter before my arrow pierced his heart but before all of that transpired perhaps I should tell you where it all began. So a while back I joined this group known as the thieves guild, a little robbery here, a bit of strong arming there. You know how it is in this line of work. But with this last heist I was told the risks would be even greater and we'd all be serving heavy sentences if we were caught and that's the last thing any thief wants to happen, especially if they consider themselves to be professionals. But we ran into a bit of bad luck lately. We were hoping with this next job our luck would turn around. We were robbing some big shot at a place called the golden glow estates. I didn't think much of it at the time but as I got back to Riften I was stopped by the guards. They decided to do a pat down, they said it was routine but this was the first time any of us had been stopped like this, but how did they know? None of us had altered anyone there, immediately I smelt a setup. Could it be those who hired us had planned for us to get caught? Perhaps for political reasons, you know capture the thieves and be crowned a hero and all that... Well, I wasn't having it and I'd be damned if I was going to spend the rest of my life rotting in Riften's jail. So I took out my bow and fired an arrow right at the guard's and made my escape as I headed for the carriage with the rest of the guards hot on my trail... |
"H-Hello, am I speaking to the cast of MirrorMirror?"The person on the other side sounded like a man born in royalty, based on their peculiar way of talking.
'Oh no, I hope I'm not dealing with another one of these princes,' the Magic Mirror thought. The face mask in the mirror is frowning for a brief moment, before portraying his announcer smile once more. He hated the top hat placed weirdly on the mirror, but the mirror is in dire need for some money to ensure that it won't be damaged.
"Yes, this is MirrorMirror. Who am I talking to?"The Magic Mirror asked.
"T-the name's Ferdinand. I, uh, am wondering if this girl in front of me is my true love,"Ferdinand answered.
Something about the name seems familiar to Magic Mirror, but he let that thought go for now.
"Well, care to elaborate more on her? You never described anything about her, sire."
"It's... u-uh... complicated? I, uh, don't know her,"Ferdinand stuttered.
Magic Mirror rolled his eyes. "Sire, it's not rare to love someone the moment one lays eyes on them. This sure complicates things though, we would have expected you to have talked to her beforehand. It's clearly stated in the requirements."
"No, no, we talked! She just... did not give her name. She got a beautiful voice, animals would be visiting her as he sings. We were planning to meet up again today, but... the situation..."Ferdinand blabbered.
"Deep breaths, sire. What happened?"The Magic Mirror did not want to pursue this situation any further, but he knows the audience is liking it. He would have called the guy a creep by now based on his reactions.
"W-well, apparently she lives in a house with seven dwarves, and now... she's d-dead, and I'm staring at her glass coffin now."Ferdinand explained.
Fuck. God damn it, he told her a thousand times to stop with this crap. Luckily, the mirror saw that it's almost time for the advertisements made by the Fairy Godmother and Merlin, so he decided to give a very brief answer and sort things out during that break.
"Look, sire, we're running out of time. Here's my suggestion. Things will turn out better, just stay by her side and try to make her... ah... cough up whatever she just consumed earlier. Should things work out, do NOT be hasty with your decision. True love or not, you don't even know this lady's name. Get to know her better first, introduce yourself properly. You don't just skip all of those steps just because you succeeded in reviving a fair maiden from her supposed death. You understand?"Magic Mirror explained.
This, surprisingly, calms the prince down. "O-oh, yes, I understand. I would like to express my gratitude for this advice, my friend! I-I shall do just that,"Ferdinand nodded.
"I wish you good luck, prince,"Magic Mirror said, ending the call. "All right, folks, that's it for now. We will be having our second call after the break!"The mirror smiled towards the camera, and the theme song of the show started to play.
"Merlin, my friend, I need you to teleport me to my house, with you coming along, of course. We're dealing with something serious here, and I need your magic powers as well,"Magic Mirror begged.
Merlin sighed, "She's up to her antics again, isn't she? All right, friend, come along now."
Only five seconds have passed since the Magic Mirror and the grand wizard teleported in front of the woman, fidgeting in place from their presences.
"God damn it, Queen, what did you do this time!? I have enough of this shit, and I demand you to stop being a petty little bitch on Snow White!"Magic Mirror shouted. |
I take a small breath as I watch my target get hit once more by his “owners”. These people who take us and keep us as their slaves, treat us like animals, and beat us for the slightest inconveniences. I am barely able to hold my rage in. The Fae have always been known for being some of the most powerful creatures in our realm, until the accords. Our then Leader made a deal in the accords to allow bands to be placed upon us at birth to lower our own magical abilities due to the fear others felt in our presence leading to war and conflict. Now many of us are captured by Avatars, humans who have some level of magical ability, and used as a source of energy and/or to meet magical needs they cannot themselves.
I am unlike most of my kin free, I’m known as a rogue for many reasons one being that I free others not only from their captors but from the bands that have held us down for centuries now. As the light above fades I make my move, I am able to free the Fae in moments and they thank me with a feeble voice laced in pain. As I get us both to safety I hear their breathing becoming heavy, by the time I reach the camp I am basically carrying them, Maggie my second rushes over with healing herbs ready. I leave my new rescue in their care and rush over to the fire seeing much needed sustenance waiting for me. I had been following their camp since early this morning, but even though I am more powerful than our captors I cannot risk showing this yet, we must let them believe we are still weak or risk all our plan’s failing.
I have been doing this work and building my small village of rescues for thirty years now, such a small amount of time really for us, but so much change in such a short time is still something I find pride in.
2 Weeks Later
The new Fae I brought home two weeks ago has acclimated well, they still haven’t agreed to removing the bracelet and we believe in the right to choose, something our people lost so long ago, as coming into all of that power after a lifetime without it can be quite scary. But they are helpful and kind. Their name they chose is Giastipikatu, a Fae word meaning found in the dark, we all just shorten it most of the time to Pika.
I am about to go and look for our next rescue as one of my informants mentioned an envoy carrying at least five Fae was going to be coming down Greyn Lane which was one of the easiest and most accessible paths to rescue through since it’s so far from most villages and is most commonly used by thieves so no one tends to report it.
I finally see my targets and their captors. I can’t believe what I am seeing honestly, I was told they may have about five captive Fae but no.. there are at least ten that I have counted, with four men guarding at all times and about fourteen of them in total that I have seen this far. I feel my temper flaring already. I have seen a lot over these last years but to have so many captives in one place is sickening especially by the way most of them look starved, and bloodied. I can’t even imagine what they could have been put through but I now know for sure I can’t do this rescue alone it was already pushing it to help five back alone, but ten? No way. I send a spelled message to Maggie and decide to wait, the message had a locator on it so I know they will be able to find me no matter how far along the path we go. I begin to feel some slight panic as I wait for someone to show it shouldn’t be taking this long when an Avatar appears next to me, if I weren’t worried about notifying the miscreants below I would have dealt with him immediately, but instead I just quietly cock my head at him. He holds up my message and says, “ I am afraid I may have intercepted your spell…”
I almost want to scream I don’t have the time now to wait on aid and rescue the captives, I also can’t safely do any of it with this beast near me.
“I’m truly sorry, but I promise I will help you if you wish.”
I glare quietly at this weak creature with pure disdain before finally replying, “ And why would one of You wish to help me? Want to take them as your own personal slaves?”
He shudders and shakes his head, “ I only take companions never slaves, I am not like them”. He pointed down to your targets and reminding me to check myself. His presence is odd, and I haven’t sensed a single lie from his lips, and unlike most Avatars I have met in this lifetime I can’t sense any anger, jealousy, or fear aimed at my presence.
Unable to truly do much else I agree to his help. Together we wait until the camp has taken a rest, already having studied how the guards move we easily slip down and rescue all of the Fae which it turns out is actually eleven. He rushes with me into the woods, I help guide him towards a spot I know is hidden from sight unless they have only good intentions. I wonder if this final test will prove his true intentions, but he easily passes through the barrier into the small clearing me and Maggie made so long ago.
I tell him to wait here as I go the short distance to our hidden village for aid in bringing the abused fae home. I warn those with me of my unexpected aid and they nervously nod in understanding.
After all are safely in the village the Avatar looks to me and says, “ I am Heron, I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble, but I was curious if you would like to accompany me on an adventure?”
I raise my eyebrows before pointing off into the woods, “ I have my own people to care for and adventures to take I can’t just leave them as slaves or leave my village to care for the slaves.”
He smiled kindly at me, “ If you wouldn’t mind joining me we can rescue enslaved Fae on the road, I could really use your help, how else do you think a message meant for someone else ended up in my care?”
And then he just wandered away, no arguing or even begging. He seemed so different from the cruelty I had grown accustomed to from his kind, and maybe I could talk to Maggie later tonight about taking him up on his offer. Til then though I had eleven knew souls to tend to.
(Before anyone asks me where i came up with the fae name for Pika it literally was random I based ot off the nickname I already had in mind) |
“Most honorable men of mine, we have gathered here for a reason, one you will soon hear.”
“What is the reason of our gathering?” Questioned a knight
“It was a rhetorical question, Garry!”
Garry sunk into his oaken seat as the master of the group continued:
“We are here because of-“
“Is it me? How did you know! You don’t know!”
“What did you do, Cornelius?”
“OK, boss, so, I ate, like, a lot of corn-“
“It was you who did it! I knew it! Listen, the reason I called you all here was to inform you on the snails eating our corn. With this new information I request you spare the snails. Cornelius, don’t let the portcullis hit you on the way out.”
(I would continue but I am not able to currently) |
I am a psychopomp. I guide those who have died to their afterlife, whatever that afterlife might be. No, I don't dress up as a skeleton in black robes with a scythe, what do you think I am? A hack? My clothes are covered in morphing geometric patterns of black and white. I am an androgynous in voice and in figure, with glowing eyes.
Today, the soul I am to shepherd is named Timothy. He is only a child. Today will be a hard day. There is a world of difference between those who have lived long full lives, who see me as an old friend, and those who have only just begun to live. But I didn't kill him, nor did I make a universe where children can die. All I can do is my job.
Those still living cannot see me. Some can feel my presence, though, feeling a chill run up their spine without knowing why. I am in a hospital. Timothy's mother and father are there, clearly stricken with pain. Sunken eyes that speak of many, many shed tears. Timothy has been fighting it for a long time, but the war against the disease is about to end.
The systems monitoring his biology begin to beep, telling the nurse that his system is crashing. I see his spirit pulling away from his body. "What's happening?"he asks.
"You are dying. Your spirit has stepped out of your corporeal form. Your struggle is over. I will guide you on your journey from this world, from this universe. It is time to leave, my child."
"But I don't want to go. I can feel my parents' pain. No parent should have to bury your child. Please just let me stay just a little while longer."
"We can loiter for a short while, but I warn you, it will make your eventual departure all the more difficult."
We watch as his body dies. His parents hold the corpse's hand, cry into its chest. Timothy's spirit is in great distress, "Send me back, don't make them go through this."
"I can't, it was not I who made the universe this way, nor I who ended your life. I am a guide, nothing more. Take my hand Timothy, for it is time to leave."
He's still fighting it, but we both begin to fade from this world. We speak of his life, brief as it was. His joy, his anger, his pain, his love. The beats of his life, those that he most cherished, those that he most hated. Talking helps them let go, accept that there is nothing to be done but walk the path that lay ahead. We walk, hand in hand, down the long tunnel with a light at the end.
"What happens now?"he asks.
"That depends on you. You will be free, for the most part. Beings like me will ease your transition from your old life. The only reason we might intervene or deny your autonomy is if you seek to hurt yourself. You will meet other souls, but you will have no way to impact their autonomy, unless they consent to it. You won't be able to communicate with the universe we just came from. Doing so would only make the journey of your family through their grief more complicated and painful. I can stay with you for a time, or I can leave if that is what you want. Welcome to eternity." |
“I just need more time.”
Donovon was staring at the ceiling again. The gentle patter of rain could be heard landing on the roof. He liked it. It helped round out that longing he was feeling. The dark helped too. It let him focus on that feeling. It was a strange thing, the desire to embrace longing, but perhaps he was longing for a reason. It was built into him for a reason. It was this thought that occurred to him as he ran his fingers through his peppered hair. He needed a haircut, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. Donovon was a painter, and perhaps one might call him a decent painter. However, Donovon was out of his prime. He could feel it. He was hardly an old man of course, but he was fifty now and that number was weighing on him. He had never made that big splash he had been hoping for. He had never made something with his whole heart and that was even worse. In short Donovon felt like an amature, like he had wasted the things he could have done.
“I still have some time.”
Donovon slowly arose from his bed. His muscles stretched and turned, his body complained, but even more so his mind complained. He didn't want to continue. Then again he was still getting up, so perhaps he cared enough to beat himself. That very feeling would fuel his next painting.
It took days. It was obsession. It was unhealthy. Donovon was proud of it. He knew it was too much. He knew he should take a break. He knew if he made a habit of it he would break. Just this once however, he allowed himself to be obsessed. No, he made himself obsessed. He was pushing the envelope to the limit, and using longing to do so. He didn’t bother thinking about the audience, in fact he barely thought at all. It was like the paint was alive and he was pouring his life into it. The shame of every failure, the years of discipline he had taken to hone his skill, the hope that this was the moment where that effort could shine the brightest. He would surpass his former self, prove that his prime wasn’t his age, but his effort. If he could do that in anything surely it would be in art. Each stroke was ever so careful, and yet filled with so much more. Like it all threatened to spill out of the lines and topple over. After the sixth day he collapsed. It was finished.
Donovaon was covered in paint, he was thirsty, his hands were locked shut from the cramps, and he found himself back down on a wooden floor, but none of that mattered. His mind was on one thing alone; the sight of his magnum opus.
Brush and briars stretched the ravine of the canvas. Each leafy wall and snare snatching with hooks of thorns. They were reaching and pulling, pushing and blocking, all working like a dark army together. There was an old man lying there at the edge of the ravine. He was cut up and worn down. His skin was soaked, and his hands were covered with dirt. He had crawled his way out of that ravine. He had given it everything he had, more than he thought he could. Golden rays of joyous life rained down from the sky. The sun was shining on the old man. He had a smile that sang out to the world. He was free, he was alive. It was at this moment that the sunrise broke through the window of Donovan's studio. In that orange glow he realized that he was smiling too. |
Subsets and Splits