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"Never have I met a soul with worse survival instincts than yours and I deal with the male praying mantises."
"It's mantes." Jackson interuppted the whirling smoke that seemed to encompass his entire world.
"It can be either, but that's my point. If a normal person, no even an ant would be too afraid to try and correct my grammar."
"Look man, I don't really know what you're going on about, but I'm pretty sure I didn't do any acid before I got in the bath."
"You mean the bath you were just taking. The one where you decided to eat toast, but couldn't bother to cook the bread first. That one?"
"Oh yeah, I was looking forward to that. Work ran late so I had to skip dinner."
"You died. What did you think would happen when you mixed electricity, water, and open coils?"
"Toast"
The smoke let out a sigh of long suffering. "That wasn't the first time. What about your past life when you walked in front of a train while reading the paper? Or the time before that when you forgot to moor yourself to the ship? Or the time before-"
"I don't believe in that stuff so you can't hold it against me."
"Believe it or not, it's just as real as gravity. But why are you so bad at living? It's not like you mean to do these things, so how can I make you stop?"
"Maybe have people warn about-"
"Oh, like the giant label that says "Do Not Use Near Water", yeah I really thought that would work. But that's not enough for people like you so." The smoke materialized into an androgynous person snapping. "I'll take a vacation and let you get perspective."
"That's good, everyone needs a vacation."
"And so-" a torrent of smoke raced down Jackson nose and mouth, even his ears. When it let up, the andogynous person's hair no longer swirled of its own accord. "You get to be the Keeper of Souls for a few eons. Be sure to read the manual because these powers aren't something you could hope to understand on your own."
"What about my sandwhich?"
"Make it yourself." they said before vanishing in a puff of black.
Jackson didn't mind making his own sandwhich. 'Actually, that's what I was doing before that freak abducted me.' Jackson thought before looking for a fridge. There wasn't one in this empty room... realm... well whatever, it did not have ingredients.
He went to the manual hoping there'd be an index so he could find out how meal preparation worked, but it wasn't a textbook. It was just a wall of fine text that went on for page after page after... Jackson was too hungry for this, and he'd always found expirementing to be the best method for figuring things out quickly anyways.
And so, with a snap of his fingers, the world went-
r/AurumArgenteus | 15 | "Before you proceed any further, I must warn you. You are tampering with powers you cannot possibly understand. So I brought a manaul." | 44 |
"Harrison, I'm begging you to help me with this case.", the captain said, her doe eyes soft and pleading. She was a hard woman, possessing the kind of strength it took for her to achieve her rank in the police department. She was also drop-dead gorgeous which was not lost on me.
"Trisha... I *can't* help you anymore.", I told her adamantly, meeting her gaze with guilt in my own eyes. She didn't understand and I sure as hell didn't know how to tell her. She wanted me to help her solve this latest case, but how could I break it to her that the last dozen cases I helped her solve were pure accident?
"This psycho is going to keep killing people until we catch him and I don't think we can do it without you."
This was going to literally drive me insane, but the story itself is unbelievable. I wouldn't believe it myself if it all hadn't actually *happened* to me. My name is Harrison Barnes, and I'm heralded as the city's greatest private investigator. The kicker is I actually have absolutely no idea what the hell I am doing. I'm *not* an investigator. I'm not a detective. I'm not a cop. I'm not even a smart guy. I dropped out of college for crying out loud. But these stupid things keep happening to me, and I keep solving crimes, which is how I met Captain Trisha Thornton.
I caught the Midnight Bomber because I forgot to turn my clocks back for daylight savings. I solved the Birmingham Robbery by accidentally putting the only witness in harms way. Trisha and me showed up on a routine check, and caught the robbers attempting to kidnap the witness, upon which I was congratulated for a cleverly designed trap. I swear, if the timing had been off just a bit more, that witness would have been killed and it would have been my fault. I discovered the hideout of the Cuban Counterfeiters because I accidentally put the wrong address into my freaking GPS. I literally stopped a bank robbery in process because right before the robbery took place, I had diarrhea and had to make an emergency trip to the bathroom. When the robbers began the robbery, they didn't know I was in the bathroom because I ducked so quickly inside. I called Trisha, and the cops came and everyone was apprehended with no one getting hurt. The case of the Fortnite Strangler was solved because I have a major fast food addiction. I ordered pizza delivery multiple times a day when working on that case from different pizza places because I was trying to pick the best pizza place. Trisha thought that my pizza obsession had something to do with the case, and ended up looking into pizza places. It turned out that the strangler was a pizza delivery guy!
How much longer was this going to go on? How long would it be until they figure out I'm just an idiot? I just can't do this any longer because I'm falling in love with Trisha, and I wouldn't be able to bear it if she sees who I really am. I wish I was the city's greatest investigator.
"You don't understand, Trish. I *can't*. I wish I could.", I told her again firmly.
"I *don't* understand, Harrison! Why not?!", she demanded.
"Because I'm not who you think I am!"
And that was that. Trisha got mad, and she left, slamming the door behind her. I was upset, because she probably wasn't going to forgive me for refusing to help her. But I also felt relieved, because it meant this nightmare was over. I drank a few beers and crashed on the couch watching some crummy reality TV show, only to wake up to my phone going off like crazy. I couldn't figure out what the sound was for a minute I was in such a deep sleep. Then I sat up, and couldn't find the phone in the couch cushions. I finally found it, and it was Trisha calling which was totally not what I expected, because I thought she was going to be mad at me forever.
"H-hello?", I said nervously and *sleepily*.
"Hey Harrison. I'm sorry. I just wanted to let you know, I understand now why you couldn't help."
I felt a lump in my throat, and I think I stopped breathing.
"Y-you do?", I asked tentatively, dreading the answer.
"Yes, I do.", she said softly, and it sounded like she was about to cry. I really hated myself in that moment. She now knew that I've been faking it all this time. That I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm just an idiot.
"There was no way I could have known yesterday. But you knew, didn't you?", she continued. I was at a loss.
"Knew... what?", I asked again with the blood pounding in my ears.
"That... that the serial killer... *was your brother*."
I'm not sure what I did or how I reacted. I think I just froze. I don't remember what she said after that, but I think she was apologizing.
"He was arrested last night, Harrison. I'm sorry. I understand now why you couldn't help me. I'm going to come over tonight if that's alright...", she continued on.
I think I told her that would be fine and hung up, but I was just going through the motions, kind of running on automatic. My own brother? Greg wouldn't *kill* anyone. Never.
It took me a moment to realize that I had some missed calls and unopened text messages on my phone. I must have received them while I was sleeping. They were from my brother Greg. I held my breath, and my fingers were literally shaking while I opened the messages. This is what they said, word for word.
**Yo, I NEED to talk to you.**
**Bro, answer your phone.**
**I'm out of time. You're probably not gonna believe this, but freaky stuff has been happening to me. I keep making mistakes and people keep dying around me. They're calling me the city's greatest criminal, but I swear I didn't do anything. I swear this is the truth! I need your help!** | 28 | As the city’s greatest investigator, you have managed to crack a great number of cases. No one realised that you have no idea what you are doing. Your actions just keep getting misunderstood. | 55 |
"Gather round children." I paused, smiling down at the upturned faces. "Now, some of you have heard the story before, and I expect you to help the younger children with the call and response." There was a general murmur of agreement. Settling back in my chair, I rocked slightly.
"There once was a man. He wasn't anyone particularly special, but he liked to take walks. And on his walks, he always took..."
"His cat!"
"Now the walks would take him far and wide, sometimes travelling for days, sometimes months. One day, his cat didn't want to go with him. It hid, always moving to a new spot when the man checked the old. Finally, giving up, the man sighed, grabbed his hat and walked out on his own. Without..."
"His cat!"
"Now the cat was sitting there, feeling very smug at having outwitted the owner that took it on such long walks. It was nice to enjoy the sunshine, and nap however much it wanted to. But in the back of the cat's mind, was the disappointed face of its owner. The way the man sighed and shook his head. And so, the cat went out to join..."
"Its owner!"
"The man's scent was faint, but the cat followed it faithfully. Up hills, and into valleys, the cat walked. The soft pads on its feet were scratched and bruised, but still, it searched. Its voice was hoarse with calling, but still, it searched. The cat began to regret its mischief in hiding from its owner. After all, when it went on walks with its owner, he would pick up the cat when it got tired. Now there was no one to pick it up.
Finally, the cat came to a strange place. The ground was bare, the rocks were large and spiky. There were strange markings on some of the stones, but the cat did not understand them. But what it did understand, was a sense of danger. Its fur prickled, and as it picked its way across the landscape, it received a shock. The fur on its feet, that had always been black, was now..."
"Green!"
"The cat was frightened by this change, but it pressed on. The scent of its owner had changed, growing weaker and sicker. But still, the cat knew it had to find him. The spiky strange rocks rose thicker and thicker, and as the cat wove through them, it was surprised to find that the fur on its feet had now changed to..."
"Yellow!"
"The cat grew more afraid, but it continued. After all, if its owner hadn't returned by now, there had to be a reason. Perhaps it was some kind of monster. There! Ahead of the cat, crumpled on the ground, was the shape of its master. The cat yowled and bolted forward. Whatever this strange space had done, whatever monster had hurt its owner, it would face it. It didn't even notice that the fur on its feet was now..."
"Red!"
"Now the cat reached its owner and licked his face with its sandpaper tongue. The man groaned, stirring. With many falls and stumbles, the cat led the man from the dangerous place. And as they walked further and further out of the spiky rocks, away from the feeling of prickling fur, the cat's colour changed back to its usual black.
It took a few days, but the owner recovered," I paused for the general cheering. "And he sat down and thought it over. He thought about his cat, and about the changing fur, and he realized that his cat could tell him when there were terrible things around. And if his cat's fur changed colour, he should be careful. And he told others. He told everyone, and he even told me." I smiled at the murmurs of disbelief from the children. They didn't have to believe that the original man had told me the story. When they grew old, they would tell the next generation the same thing.
"So, now we all know the truth. And what must we remember? If your cat changes colour..."
"You must flee!"
"And when we go out on walks, what do we take?"
"Our Cat!"
————————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! (Also, my first time attempting a folktale. Twas fun!) | 238 | To warn far-future humans about radioactive waste dumps, cats were genetically modified to change color in response to radiation. Then we wrote an artificial folktale, made to endure for millennia, whose moral is "If your cat changes color, you must flee." The tale goes like this. | 789 |
"Oh yeah, I don't." I agreed, sipping from a glass of the King's finest wine.
"Not...not even a little?" the Grand Priestess Azrael coughed. "But you-"
"Yeah, yeah." I waved my hand. "I summoned the Great Eldrich Dragon whatever, I was there. You're the one that prophesied it a few hundred years ago. I'm supposed to mess with destiny? Me? The sheep farmer who led his flock off a cliff?"
"I mean you could have tried to just not read the incantation from the Book of Endings. Maybe not summoned Mrithun to burn civilization to the ground."
"That little shithead skeleton mind controlled me into it." I shrugged. "Not my fault. And not like you helped me."
"I'm five-hundred and forty-six years old, Gerald." she huffed. "And I've been telling you about the damn skeleton since you were eight."
"You said 'Beware the skeleton priest.'" I was incensed. "There were twelve of them! How was I supposed to know which one?!"
"I said the one in the blue hat!" Azrael spat.
"Three of them were wearing blue hats! Gods be damned."
"First off. One was blue. One was cerulean. The third was lapis luzuli," she was smug asshole. "Secondly, I think they damned us first."
"Yeah...yeah," I sighed, turning towards the inferno that raged at the base of the mountain. "You think those so called 'heroes' are gonna be able to save us?"
"Oh, gods no." she chuckled. "Mrithun is likely going to kill them by accident. We're all fucked."
"Well, that's unfortunate," I mused, gulping the remnants of my glass. At least it was damn good wine. | 11 | "Though it's the end of the world, don't blame yourself." She said, raising a cup. | 29 |
The rope fit snugly around my throat, then was tightened to an uncomfortable degree. I thought to let out a cough, even if fake, just to make my discomfort known, but it did not matter now. Within the next five minutes I would be dead. Nothing but a lifeless husk swinging for the spectators to see. I thought it ironic that I had watched so many a man doomed to the same.
As the husky man placed the rope around my neck he leaned in close, and with a quivering in his voice spoke. "I'm really sorry about this kid, I was rooting for you. We all were." I looked out to the crowd in surprise to see sadness on their faces. Some even seemed to be holding back tears.
"Well if it's any consolation I was rooting for me too." I tried to muster up a clever grin but no such luck. This was it.
The executioner walked over to his post, a tall lever connected to the gallows. I knew him I thought, seen him at other executions as the "so-called" hangman. Rupert maybe? He seemed a nice man despite his profession. Across, standing in powerful triumph was the lord, Gleise. I would say our lord but I had no such ties to the man. He looked almost annoyed to be here. As if watching my death was burden enough to him. At least we shared that sentiment, I didn't want him here either. So close to wiping the smirk from his face. So close.
The hangman, Rupert, gave me a nod, which I returned. Typically the victim of such events did not get a nod, and I was thankful for the small consideration. Gleise gave out his final words, to which I hoped would not be the last I ever heard.
"For the crime of treason. Of falsifying information and conspiring to assassinate the king. Of participating in the plot to blow up parliment, you are sentenced to death. Get on with it." the king shoed with a ringed hand. I was ready to go. Well...almost. A tyrant he was, and I'm sure some brave bastard would eventually do away with him, but why wait?
As the floor dropped out from under me I fell fast, caught only by the rope. It hurt, unbelievably so, but I had not yet died. Instead I was just stuck gasping for breath in front of a crowd of onlookers. Most turned away, others cried, I could now see the misery on their faces. Maybe not for me, but for what would follow once I left. But hopefully that would not come.
With all my might I tried to remain conscious. With my legs swinging I kicked until my arms faced the crowd. Some gasped, others ducked, and I could not see the lord. But it did not matter. I had practiced all week. With my last breath I pulled the trigger, letting out a flaming ball of my vengeance. Of my hate. My compliments to the hangman for fulfilling a dying man's last request.
The last thing I heard before my breath ceased was: "He's been shot! Get him inside!" I was happy that it would be the last words I'd ever hear. | 137 | You feel the coarse rope rub against your neck as the executioner tightens the fraying ends behind you. He puts a hand on your shoulder and as he talks, you can hear the sadness in his voice. "I'm really sorry about this kid, I was rooting for you. We all were." | 259 |
She's the god of piece. And I am the most annoying person on the planet. At least, to those around me I am. I of course don't think I am annoying. But I'm starting to have my doubts. Seeing as she is getting more frustrated by the minute.
I didn't even do anything wrong. I'm just trying to point out that peace isn't really an option and that it never was an option. You know, with mankind always waging war and all.
The woman in front of me started tapping her foot on the ground and her brows stood angry.
"Out." Her voice echoed through the chamber and vibrated through my body. "I'm done with you. If you want your war, you can have it." She waved her hand and an invisible wall started pushing me to the exit.
"But goddess of peace, how can you say such a thing? Aren't you supposed to hate war?" I couldn't help but smile a little. This was way too much fun.
"You can have your war." Her eyes pierced mine. "You alone shall never experience peace again." Her hand waved again and a sudden feeling of dread overcame me. "May this be a lesson for you to never get your pleasure from another's anger."
I blinked and the chamber was gone. I stood outside with the sun shining on me and birds happily chittering. I took a deep breath and went home. The god of peace allowed war. I smiled to myself.
I told everyone my version of her words. How the goddess doesn't care and how war is something she wants. Many don't believe me. Some even got angry enough to fight me.
But whatever I tried I never lost that feeling of dread. Every night I lay turning in my bed trying to fall asleep. Every day fought the sleepiness.
After months of this I realized it. Every battle with sleep, every nice moment that got ruined. It was all her doing. I would experience war on every piece of my life. And never would I win. Because if I win, I could be at peace. And never would I be at peace again. | 26 | They say that there's nothing worse than the anger if a gentle person. So drawing the rage of the God of Peace is probably not a good thing. | 112 |
The crew had begun to gather on the observation deck, some off-duty and laying down blankets, their arms full of wine bottles and glasses. Three weeks into the voyage and there were already some romances sprouting, maintenance crew men and weapons girls sharing stiff bathroom towels, reclined and giggling over beers.
I was standing, alone, at the balcony railing, peering through the massive window that domed with the curve of our round ship. I'd never seen voidspace before. I'd been working in space for the better part of 30 years; this was something *new*, something *shocking*. There was a lot of us who were against the use of it. We mostly appealed to the economic impacts of local asteroid mining industries, what it would do to their jobs, families, etc.
But really, we were scared. What lived in the void that scared our intelligent galactic neighbors so much that they cut off contact with us when we announced our discovery? What was the danger they were afraid even to name?
The deck was getting crowded. Conversation and laughter was filling the air, the crew waiting with bated breath to see what promised to be "a life-changing experience." When the PA system came on to announce the launch countdown, all talking on the deck stopped.
*Five!...Four!....Three!...Two!...*
The canvass of stars around the window seemed to shrink, condensed to a line of white light. The deck was deathly silent, the hands along the railing gripping it until their knuckles were white.
Then a burst of soft red light, clouds replacing the bleak blackness that we were looking at before. We were coasting through an ethereal plane. Somewhere there was a gentle harmonic sound, soothing to the ears.
A tear ran down my cheek. What was I looking at? It was something marvelous, something magnificent. Something divine.
We were only in the voidspace for about five seconds, but many claimed it felt like house, days. *Some of the best days of my life*. When black, star-scattered space came back into view, the conversations on deck were hushed. There were more than a few sniffling noses and muffled cries.
I looked around at the crowd, now slowly rolling up their blankets and carting off empty bottles. There was something new in their eyes, in their steps. Optimism? Some kind of gladness, refreshment.
I shared the emotion, feeling lighter on my feet, clear of mind. I was 50 this year, five years from retirement, but I felt like I had all the time in the world to accomplish anything I wanted.
I nearly spoke to one of the other crewmates who'd been standing next to me, but I thought better of it. Let the young make friends and lovers. I can't bring myself to make new friends now. But damn, how I wanted to.
I returned to my quarters, a reasonably spacious suite with a bed, a desk, and a small bathroom. I wanted to write down my thoughts, reflect on my life. I wanted to chart out my retirement...maybe buy a boat? I laughed at my own line of thought. How predictable a spaceman would want an isolating vessel after a career of isolation.
I decided to wash my face first, center my thoughts.
I stood before my sink and splashed water in my face.
My reflection was soft and handsome, like I'd happened to cross the path of someone who looked like me, and who I liked besides. It was a new feeling for me. A good one, I think.
My thoughts kept racing back to the same place: *why would they keep us from this* and *everyone should see the voidspace.* I shook my head clear. I was a scientist, not a guru. There was still so much data to collect, surveys to create, trends to analyze. There was still so much we didn't know.
My reflection winked at me. I laughed, warmed by the friendly gesture.
And then my skin went cold. *I* didn't wink. But the mirror did. And a smile spread across its face. | 517 | Voidships (FTL capable) don't have viewing ports because viewing voidspace induces insanity in sentients. Then humanity enters the stage. Human civilian passenger ships have observation decks because humans consider the view to be calming. A true Zen experience even. | 896 |
"Smash."
"What?" The hollow eyes that had only known malice and grim enjoyment for dozens of millennia now were transfixed with bewilderment.
"You heard me. Melee. Final Destination, no items. Fox only."
The old man opened a wide, pink smile devoid of teeth. Death had come for him in his sleep, and for the first time in centuries He felt regret in his old bones. That wet mess of gum in the geezers mouth made Him unsteady. It wasn't just gross, it was victorious. This man of eighty-seven, Kyle Brander, had already won. Between the both of them, conjured by the vast grey desert that only they inhabited, a small grey box appeared.
"I don't understand."
"Figured as much." Kyle beamed while plopping himself into the soft, ash-like sand. His back pain had been tearing him apart for years, and now it sprang like a freshly oiled pogo stick. He might even make it a ninety-nine stock game it felt so damn good.
His enjoyment skyrocketed when a large screen, floating and ethereal even in this divine realm, lit up before them.
Death had seen something similar not long ago. An old bell of a woman calling herself Bea had challenged Him to something she titled "Pong". It was new. But it wasn't anything He couldn't handle. This "Smash" however, was a new beast entirely. Bea handed Him a small box with an adjustable stick, but Kyle handed Him a control panel. It was large and heavy like some weapon of war, shaped like one too. Death carefully maneuvered the prongs away from Him. To his left, Kyle snickered.
With a look that had froze millions of souls before, Death turned towards Kyle. The Look, a weapon of the apocalypse, broke. The crazy senior was not only pointing the prongs at himself but had doubled over with it buried into his leathery gut. He was watching the screen with great intensity, now filled with insane colors and cartoon like depictions. Without looking, he addressed Death. "Ready Boomer?"
It was over in a literal moment. Death had never set any terms, unaware they even existed. Kyle had set it to one stock. No handicap; in the spirit of all that is fair.
With a gummed smile, Kyle's memories faded. And so did his body, rising into a pillar of indescribable matter, instead of collapsing into the sand as so many before him had. Death watched in awe. In his place another appeared. Slightly younger than the last, seventy-two. Brayden Fletcher. He looked timid and small in the vast landscape. Death felt at ease once more, the small mans attitude more in line with his comforts.
"A game you must choose, a game we must play. If you lose, your life you must pay. If you win, another year you may stay." He had done it billions, if not trillions of times. But for Death, it never got old.
The small man looked up at the towering robed figure, with even smaller eyes. "Any game?" He asked in a small voice.
"Any." Death said simply.
"Do you know what speedrunning is?" | 146 | When you die, you get to play 1 game of your choice against Death. If you win, you get another year and try again. But Gen Z is starting to die of old age and Death isn't good at any kind of video games | 487 |
Having an apprentice was a bit like adopting a puppy. It was a fresh rush of life that never ceased to amaze you. Sure, sometimes they would set your carpet on fire, but other times they would impress you with their ability to see the world in a way that you never thought possible. While Valery might have seemed rather ordinary among magic users, I couldn’t help but respect her drive, even if she refused to learn nothing other than fireball related magic.
“Ok and for my next trick, fireball… but pink!” She waved her hands in a circular motion before pushing her palms forward, sending a pink burst of fire towards me. I waved my hand dismissively, extinguishing the flame before it could even do as little as burn one of my perfectly groomed white beard hairs.
“Is your next trick just another colored fireball? This is the fifth one you have thrown at me. At this point, you have nearly made a fireball rainbow. Wouldn’t you like to learn how to summon a familiar or perhaps extinguish flames with a sway of your hand?”
“Hmmm, can a familiar shoot fireballs?”
“Well, not exactly, but some can breathe fire?”
“Not interested then.” Somehow, Valery kept that same goofy smile, not even understanding the ridiculousness of her obsession. It was getting harder to teach her. I would have loved to recommend her to a mage college, but how could I ever do that if she only knew variations of one spell?
“Right, are you sure? How about explosion magic? It’s like a fireball, but bigger?”
“What sort of weirdo learns how to make explosions?”
“That’s really not any weirder than your situation.” I sighed, readying my hand for another fireball. “Alright, throw another one at me.”
She gave a small hop of joy, her pink hood swinging as she made a dramatic pose, pointing a finger at me. She must have thought she looked so cool and she might have, if not for the fact her hood had thrown itself over her face, covering her eyes. There was no spark after she snapped her fingers, leaving me standing there confused. Was she out of magic?
I waited for her to say something, before feeling a heat in front of me. My groomed beard sizzling as the hairs burnt away, threatening to hit my chin. I quickly finished my wave, sending the fire away. I clutched my shortened beard, mourning the loss of three hundred years of growth, only to look back up and see her spin around, clapping her hands.
“Invisible fireball! My super attack.”
“An invisible fireball? You made an invisible fireball. How did you make an invisible fireball? You shouldn’t be able to hide an element like that. Someone of your skill level especially shouldn’t be capable of that.”
“Huh? Oh, it was easy. I just mixed an invisibility spell with some of my fireball formula’s. It’s not that hard. I could probably teach you if you wanted to know.”
I couldn’t say anything. I just stared at her in disbelief. Sure, I had heard of great mages who had only ever studied one element of magic. We had great fire mages, great water mages, but I had never heard of a great mage who only knew fireball related magic. Was she a prodigy or just someone so stubborn that she forced magic to bend to her wills?
“Master? Are you ok? You kind of zoned out there? Wait, I know. How about a healing fireball?” She pressed her finger to my chin, causing me to let out a high-pitched scream as she blasted my face with a fireball.
I didn’t see the flame, only feeling an intense burn as it tossed me to the ground. I rolled around a little before realizing I felt no pain at all. In fact, I felt good, like she had blasted me with a hot massage. I stood up, dusting off my silver lined robe, unsure how to process what she had just done. Even my burnt beard had slightly healed. Still far shorter, but at least it didn’t have any burn markings.
“Why would you shoot a fireball at me with no warning like that? What if you didn’t heal me and blasted my head off?”
“Oh, I just assumed you would have been able to deflect it if I messed up. Good thing I didn’t, right?” She laughed in my face, not even realizing how dangerous that was, and yet I found it hard to stay mad at her. She had thrown my knowledge of magic on its head and that outweighed her current airheaded nature.
“Yes, very good thing you didn’t. So, you have somehow bent a spell to perform new purposes. Even a formula change shouldn’t be able to achieve that. Either you’re incredibly gifted or you can perform magic in a way that others can’t. Perhaps you have accidentally stumbled upon one of the greatest magic discoveries in years.”
“Aww, thank you. I am incredibly gifted, right? That’s why you picked me out of all the apprentices.”
“Yes, that’s the reason. Because you were so unique.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was the last one left. Most masters saw how her application only said fireball with a smiley face next to it and quickly moved onto other choices. But I was the youngest of the masters at the age of only three hundred and fifty, so I got stuck with the runt of the magic litter.
“So, did I pass the entrance exam? Do you think I could study at one of those fancy mage colleges now? You can recommend me, can’t you? Aren’t you like an enormous deal in one of them?”
“I was a big deal. Not so much anymore. I don’t know what to say. You didn’t pass the exam, but you might have still technically passed by showing off that much talent. Regardless, I still can’t recommend you to a magic college, not with your current skill set. Even if you have an ability others don’t, you won’t pass any of their tests. As amazing as your fireballs are, they can’t cushion someone’s fall or fire lightning bolts. Those are all basic abilities for a mage.”
Valery considered my words, stroking her chin in a similar fashion to how I do when I’m deep in thought. I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me or had merely just picked up my habit from our time together. After a lot of tense chin stroking, she gave me a smile.
“What if I just made a fireball that could do all of that?”
“Well, technically, if you could do that, you would pass. But how would you make a fireball that can shoot water? Or something like that.”
“I have no idea, but I’ll figure it out.”
It was bizarre. If anyone else had said that to me, I would have laughed in their face, but after her display, I couldn’t help but believe her.
“Alright, that will be your first task, then. Create a fireball that can shoot water. If you can do that, I’ll talk more about your enrollment.”
“But I need someone to show me what water magic looks like.”
I opened my palm, creating a small puddle in my hand. I was never great at water magic, unable to summon water like the others, instead I sucked the sweat from my body and pooled it in a location. It was gross and rather unpleasant to do, but it was how I passed my water exams in college, so it was the only way I knew how.
“Here, it’s a pretty simple looking magic, you just harness-“
“Um, no offence, master. But do you know anyone else? I don’t really want to throw sweaty fireballs at people.”
“I… I see.” I couldn’t help but feel a little offended. My apprentice was asking for a replacement. Sure, it might have only been for water magic, but it still hurt.
“You’re still a great mage, but it’s just your water magic is really weird, and it makes you look like a freak.”
And just like that, she had thrusted the emotional fireball knife through my heart. I said nothing, letting myself recover a little from the words, only feeling the need to speak when I saw her opening her mouth again.
“Yes, yes. I will find you someone else. Just please stop insulting me. I may be three hundred and fifty, but my feelings still get hurt.”
“Oh, want a healing fireball?’
“I’m fine. Just go to your room and study. I’ll make the preparations and please stop mentioning my water magic. Ok?”
“Ok, I won’t mention your weird sweat magic.” And with that, Valery left me to grumble alone in my workshop. Mumbling small insults to myself as I wrote out a letter.
“Calls my magic weird and yet she can’t even summon a crow to send a letter. Who does she think she is? I bet other masters don’t get disrespected like this.” I summoned my familiar, who appeared with his head looking down, the crow sharing my hurt feelings. I gave him a few pats, glad that someone at least emphasized with me. Sure, he was just a figment of my soul, but it was the most sympathy I had gotten all day. I gave him the letter and spoke the name. “Penelope Madiz.”
The crow nodded and looked for a window. When it found none in my workshop, it hopped its way up the stairs, purposely avoiding Valery when she called out to it, holding a small grudge before it flew off to find Penelope. With the letter sent, all I could do was wait. I picked up a book on water magic, reading over the pages, trying to learn the magic that had eluded me for centuries.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 1,718 | You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious. | 5,251 |
It will surprise almost none of you to learn that cheer teams frequently summon demons.
The cheerleaders are usually surprised, of course, although they should have thought of that before they jumped around chanting and waving their hands in patterns that bear an unfortunate resemblance to arcane runes.
The surprise is usually short lived, and the survivors rarely have the mental capacity to speak of the horrors that they witnessed. We were just lucky that the first time it happened, Mary Sue was standing next to the hula hoop that she'd accidentally taken to church that Sunday. The demon was almost as shocked at finding itself contained as the preacher was when the entire cheer team turned up to hear his next sermon (hula hoops conveniently left just inside the door of the church).
Demons, we learned, have their uses, from a bit of genteel sabotage of opposing cheer teams, to punishing boys who stand a girl up at Arbee's on a Friday night (let's just say that he'll think twice before he dips his mozzarella sticks in somebody's marinara sauce again, if you catch my drift).
It was all going devilishly until I summoned the imp Lubiz, who popped into existence inside the hallowed gold circle (we had moved on from hula hoops by this point), blinked once, and immediately began to grin.
"Awesome," it whispered. "This is the mortal realm, isn't it?"
"Demon," I began. "I conjure and bind thee to this plane. Shoulds't thou wish to return to the planes of hell, you must-"
"Pssht," Lubiz said. "Why would I want to go back there?"
I hesitated. "Um, demons always want to go back there. It's warmer there, and they're always talking about the open bar after work."
"Well, that's alright for the higher demons," Lubiz said. "But somebody's got to serve those drinks, and do you think you any of those rakshasas, djinn, or incubi volunteer for that? Oh, no. It's 'Lubiz, bring me another mimosa', or 'Lubiz, where is that strawberry daiquiri that I ordered, and Lubiz, don't forget the little umbrella this time or I'll have you take over from Sisyphus for the next millenium.'"
"If you complete the task I have for thee, I shall let you return," I said desperately. "I need you to retrieve the answers to tomorrow's test from Ms. Starell's office."
Lubiz pouted. "I have a better idea. Let's go out. Now that I'm here, I want to see some of this world. What do you girls usually get up to on a-" it pulled out a battered flip phone and looked at the date, "-Tuesday night?"
I glanced around at my team mates. They were looking back in horror.
"I have your number programmed in here," Lubiz was saying. "We can go and get dressed up, and then meet up at, say, 7? How about Arbee's? Everyone in hell has heard about that one, and I've been *dying* to see it."
The squad captain mouthed two words at me: "Banish it."
"You are banished," I said desperately, and made the shape of the rune in the air.
There was an unhappy squeak, cut off half way through, and then the imp popped out of existence.
"I guess we'll have actually to study for tomorrow's test," one of the other girls said finally.
In my pocket, my own phone buzzed. It was an unknown number, from whatever place in the world has the +666 country code.
> If 7 is too early, how about 8? Chocolate shakes on me? | 26 | Summoning demons after-school was a fun hobby, up until one became especially clingy. | 86 |
I stared down at the keys, unamused. Then up at my friend. "Voidwalker...." The darkly colored dragon perked at her name being called, ears tilting towards me to show she was listening. "Who did you steal these from?" Her ears swiveled to point slightly behind her, still raised upwards. My expression changed to one of slight confusion. "You didnt steal them?" Her ears pointed back towards me to confirm the question.
I blink and look down at the keyring. I crouched down to study it. I've long since learned not to immediately touch anything strange Voidwalker brings be after she brought me that cursed necklace a year or two ago. I only found out it was cursed after I touched it and blinded it, and the demon trapped inside, to myself. I lucked out since the demon wasn't all that malicious and was quite fun to hang out with.
"Hey, Ree?" The cursed necklace around my neck grew warm in reply. "You wanna check this out so I dont get cursed again or you gonna let me chance it?" There was a moment of pause before a slightly echoey voice, that kinda sounded like it had slight autotune to it, spoke from right next to me.
"Ehhh. Whats the fun in that?" I glared at the ghostly demon. "Rezan." "Fine! Fine. Jeeze. Just know this is only because I dont want you to die anytime soon. The longer I'm out of that cursed necklace, the better." They reached out a clawed hand and nudged the keys around, making sure to make contact with each key and the ring itself. Then they retracted their clawed hand.
"They are spelled but none are harmful to the user." "Thanks, Ree." They roll their six eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Leave me alone." You watched as they let themself be sucked back into the necklace like water into a drain. I then picked up the key ring and stood back up, turning a few over curiously. I then look back at Voidwalker, who had grown a tad bored and wandered a few steps away.
"Hey, V!" She turned her head to me, ears perked. "You know what these go to?" She blinked but didn't otherwise move. It took a minute of scanning my mental list of the meanings of her movements to find what that meant. Confusion: She doesn't understand. I took a minute to figure out how to simplify it.
"Like, uh....you know keys go to a lock, right?" Her ears flick and return back towards me: a yes. "But keys can't go to every lock, *unless spelled anyways*, so do you know where any one these keys' locks are?" She took a minute of blank staring before it clicked in her mind what I ment.
She then huffed a single pant out of her mouth and looked away. "Lead the way then." She waited for me to reclip the chain-lead to her harness before leading me out of the park in the center of my town and back into the maze of buildings. She lead me down many streets and through multiple alleyways. Rezan grew bored and crawled out of their necklace to mess with and talk to me as she lead us.
When she came to a stop she made a quiet huff of smoke out of her nose at a rusty door at the side of an alley. "Here? You sure?" I question, not quite believing that. She glared back at me and I put up my hands in surrender. "Ok, ok." I walk up to the door and took out the key ring from my pocket, looking through them for any that looked to match the lock.
An old looking key caught my eye and I tried it in the door. It fit and took a bit of wiggling but the old rusy door's lock clicked open. I opened the door hesitantly and only saw a set of dark stairs leaning down into pitch-blackness. I took a few steps into the landing before the stairs and peered down, trying to see if I could spot the bottom. I felt Voidwalker and Rezan enter as well to look over my shoulders. As soon as they did, the door slammed shut behind us. The only light now being from Voidwalker's glowing patterns.
"Welp. Have fun with that." The resident demon said as they were sucked back into their necklace. I roll my eyes at their antics and look to Voidwalker. "What about you, Void? Gonna leave me to explore on my own?" She didn't look at me and just softly growled at the dark. "Ill take that as a 'no'. Well." I look at the darkness. "Nowhere to go but down, I guess."
[I'll do a part 2 later if you guys think this needs one] | 28 | Your dragon LOVES going on walks with you, and always fetching you treasures. Mostly sticks and rodents. But not today. Today, she happily spits out at your feet a large set of keys | 98 |
*It’s going to hit 8 billion soon.*
Harold walked along the narrow alleyway. The neon signs of the adult toy shops pierced through the smog.
The scenes of last weekend played over and over in his head. He was one of the oldest, most powerful vampires in all the lands, and they entirely ignored his warnings.
*The World Vampiric Forum is run by witless children!*
Harold knew the risks. Throughout the centuries, they were able to 'contain' Witnesses because, well, they were careful and they could live far enough away from humans, so there weren’t many.
This was no longer the case and space was becoming scarce.
Even a single witness would be an existential threat, and the WVF was getting complacent.
The humans needed culling, plain and simple.
NosfeRat poked his head out of Harold’s jacket and squeaked. “At least I still have you.” He kissed his little face. His whiskers tickled in the calming way he liked. NosfeRat’s eyes glowed red in sweet affection.
Harold knew the fate of all vampires was up to him now. Up ahead on the sidewalk, he saw a homeless leper trying to get himself warm with a tiny blanket. He was missing an arm. *Poor sod.* That was one advantage of being a vampire. He was immune from human illnesses. In fact, the sick and infirm were the easiest victims, although not very nourishing. Any foreign organism that enters a vampire’s blood stays dormant in a sort of ‘stasis’, as if frozen in amber forever.
He never went hungry during the Black Death. Or the more recent Spanish flu.
*Not far now.*
He was in a part of the world where bat meat was a delicacy. There was a large cave up ahead where much of the local bat population lived. All he needed to do was bite as many of them as possible. His blood and saliva formed a viral cocktail centuries in the making.
He carefully placed NosfeRat on the ground, turned himself into a bat, and entered the cave.
*Time to unleash a new plague.* | 43 | The vampires encourage human progress at first. After all, why not? The nicer their prey's civilization was the better the vampires would live to. But with prosperity came population growth. Its now 2022, humans outnumber vampires a thousand to one, and they are getting nervous. | 169 |
Getting an acceptance to Omega One was my dream since I was a kid. -OO- was the biggest supers academy in the country and 60% of all the major heroes and villains in the world had spent at least a year there. I had many fantasies about myself meeting the dean, from dreams of being approved for an internship with one of the big ten to nightmares of being expelled. But never did I imagine I'd be there for this reason.
"I'm sorry Mr. Smith. But I just don't understand why you wish to resign. I know you're not one of the strongest students but the versatility of your ability is nothing to laugh about. If I'm not mistaken, every hero club in the school that's not power specific has asked for you to join and even Gadget Gal the number 9 hero has expressed interest in having you do a part time internship with her agency this summer."
"I know Professor Draconic. But it's not about hero opportunities."
"I see, it's always a pain to see a student fall over to the dark side but I've seen enough former students return to the right side or at least become anti-heroes to allow you to pursue this twisted path. But I'd still recommend finishing your year here. We have several under the books programs to assist students like you. We can even recommend your for a job with some of our less than reputable alumni."
"What! No! I don't want to be a hero or a villain. I want to be an engineer."
"I'm sorry. What!"
"I came to this school to learn to control my powers but all this hero and villain nonsense freaking sucks. I can barely go through a day without someone destroying my class in a childish fight. The MC wannabe in 3rd year has destroyed the entire school like 5 times in just these first 4 month. But it did teach me something. I'm f\*cking good at building and fixing stuff. Have any of you even noticed how the school gets rebuilt in less than a day? That was me. Why waste my time building super suits and learning to create swords when I can build unbreakable buildings and inescapable prisons. That's why I decided to apply to an engineering school and since I just got my acceptance yesterday, I would like to leave -OO- Academy."
"I understand Mr. Smith. I'm glad you've found our passion. But I'm also saddened that this has come to pass."
"I am too professor. But despite the annoyances I will always treasure my time here. Who knows, I might even come back one day to build a school that doesn't explode every week?"
"You misunderstand me Mr. Smith. I'm not sorry you're leaving. I'm sorry you can't."
"What do you mean?"
"Mr. Smith you know how we can fund all these repairs before you arrived? How every main hero lives in their own skyscraper or private island? How every villain can afford a new doomsday plan every month? Because we are the only options for the world. The world has mistakenly chosen to invest in supers and I sadly can't allow that money to stop coming in."
"Wait, why."
"Because I have spent the last 30 years raising the strongest people in the world into arrogant, entitled godchildren. If people like you were to realize they could better the world by turning away from supers, they will all be thrown to the sidelines. But they won't adapt. They'll do what they do best. Fight whoever they see as their enemies and destroy everything that's in their way. Which is why, I must not allow anyone with great power to stray from the world of masked combat."
"What are you gonna do to me?"
"I'm gonna give you two options. 1. Let me brainwash you into believing becoming a hero is still what you want most in the world or 2. Go through the trapdoor under my rug that will take you to a place where you can learn to use your power to build a better world."
"I'll chose the second option."
"Good, then as your old and new dean. I'd like to welcome you, Metl Smith to Draconian's School for Practical Powers." | 34 | When you discovered your power to reshape and control the form and structure of any metal, the others at the Supers Academy were convinced you’d have the “coolest T-1000 powers ever”. Sick of the heroes vs villains infighting, you decided to drop out and join an Engineering school instead. | 117 |
"What? A janitor?" I exclaimed. "They called me a JANITOR?" This time around, my voice rang throughout the room.
"Well, Steve, I can't really sugarcoat it for you--I know your job's important for you and all but don't you think you should calm down? I mean it's just the media--"
"JUST THE MEDIA?" I interrupted Joe. "Just the--" I placed my hand on my forehead in exasperation. "Do you know how much work I do EVERY damn time those morons fight, Joe?"
I stand up from my chair and walk around the room to cool my head off a little bit. I look back towards Joe. "Listen. It's not easy cleaning up rubble with my telekinesis. It takes A LOT of sugar for me to get all that brain juice I need to start lifting heavy objects. By the time I finish, I can barely open my wallet to get money for my train fare! And do you even KNOW what they break when they fight?" I take a deep sigh. "It's not..it's not just a building or two, man. They level cities! Whole cities!" I said as I threw my hands out in frustration. "And the families, too! The people that get caught in the crossfire!"
It took every inch out of me each day to fix what they broke. It wasn't just cities. Like what I said, families got affected too. I had to help them find missing brothers, sisters, parents. Even pets, and all. I couldn't bear it either to watch them cry, especially the kids. I grew up in a broken family and knew all too well what it felt like to be so, so scared about what's happening and having no one to talk to. It was fulfilling work, but tiring. I knew the media didn't care about what I did, especially the actual groundwork I do. That's fine. But I took offense in how they labelled my job as janitorwork. It's supposed to be basic human decency that these so called heroes SHOULD have in the first place. And those damn, bastard villains do no good to them either.
"I'm sorry, Joe."
"For what?"
"Lashing out on you." I said shyly.
"Dude, it's alright. I understand. Stuff can get to the best of us, y'know?" Joe stood up. "I'm gonna go out to get food, want something? My treat," said Joe, smiling in his usual jolly way. He was always such a nice friend and would do just about anything to make sure the people he's around with are okay.
"I'll have the usual."
"Sure." Joe gave me a pat on the back before he left the room.
I sat back down on my chair, staring blankly into space. I know it's not the media's fault...well, not entirely, for having called my work as essentially just being a janitor. There's the dumb take and there's the uninformed take, and while news outlets reporting uninformed takes is pretty stupid in and of itself, the hero versus villains thing is a somewhat difficult topic to report.
But...
That doesn't change the fact that those heroes, those villains--they're all assholes on a power trip. Maybe I should thank the media instead of getting mad at them. They gave me a wake up call. I've never thought fondly about these "heroes" in the first place and I've hated the guts of just about every villain out there. They're all the same to me. I hate every single one of them.
I hear a loud bang outside. And again. Then, my windows break against the force of a shockwave. I look outside my apartment building and see a caped man pummeling another man in black. I watch them as they fight, throwing each other across the street until one of them crashes in the deli where Joe and I get out food.
Then, I hear a man scream. I know that voice from anywhere. If these fuckers keep on with this shit, if they don't learn how to stop. If they keep destroying everything and hurting the people here. If they have gone so far as to hurt even my friends...
I clenched my hands in anger. Psychic energies release from my hand, distorting the space around it. The shards of glass levitate, the air begins to change, and my body becomes lighter.
Then maybe it's time to stop working. | 873 | Your job was to clean and repair the messes heroes and villains leave in the aftermath of their fights. It's not a glorious job, but you still took some pride in it. So when the media called you an over-glorified janitor, you took offense and decided to stop working. | 1,664 |
There was a crash of thunder, and the creature jumped. It huddled down in its bush, shivering. Rain lashed down, turning dirt into mud. The creature was so cold. It had lost home days ago, when it's parents were killed. Its fur was matted and filthy, its small green eyes screwed tightly shut.
Movement drew its attention. It heard the muttering of people, similar to those it had seen visiting the forest. From its small shelter it watched one of the people walk over, picking up wet wood. Another crash of thunder startled the creature, making it squeal.
The sound drew the person's attention. They instantly stared at the bush, reading the situation. Fear made the creature shiver more, passing into the bush and making it shake. The person watched and waited, ready in case a fight was about to start. Eventually they moved, heading to the bush.
"Hello?"
Their voice had concern. The creature looked at them, thinking in its small mind. It wanted to be safe again. Maybe the person would give it that.
"Look at you. It's OK, I won't hurt you little one."
The person reached out, gently brushing the creatures fur. It felt comfort in that touch, and a promise of kindness. With hope in its heart the creature purred, rubbing against the person's fingers. Its stomach dropped as they snatched it up, before purring again as it was tucked into the front of the person's clothing. The warmth from their body fed into the little creature's half frozen form, beating back a slowly creeping death.
It's memory went hazy for a bit then. It heard talking and laughter. A soft blanket on its back, and a bowl of fresh fruits. It felt their care, filling it with joy. One word stood out to it. Wittle. Not just a word, but a name. A name of its own.
\-----
It grew up with them, across their adventures. It found itself, a Forest Guardian. It kept itself small, even though its mind grew. It loved its adopted family, and how they played with it. It loved the little helmet they had made it, something it never went without. Wittle was happy with them, helping out in little ways across their adventures.
Now it stood alone again. Its family were lying on the ground, defeated. Over them stood Hanvel, the Crazed Smith. He sought to rule their world with his golems and creations. Wittle's family had tried to stop him, but he was too strong.
Wittle looked at its family. For the first time in its new life, it felt the fear of being alone again. It fed into anger, and the cute creature decided it was enough. It stood against the villain, snarling. As it did, it finally grew.
It started the size of a puppy, as it had been when found. But soon it passed the size of a adult dog, with no hint of slowing. Wittle continued to grow, taking up the mantle of its birth. Soon it stood over Hanvel, with its rage pouring off it. It gave a hiss, rearing back with a claw.
It would not lose its family again. | 84 | The cute little creature the party adopted in their travels is the only one left standing against the villain, and it wants revenge for it's fallen friends. | 165 |
A man droid and a woman droid were seen taking a slow and leisurely stroll along the shore against a beautiful sunset. The man droid still had questions, but the woman droid merely desired to go along with it.
"But don't you want to know if this love is real? Doesn't it bother you that I have no choice in the matter?" asked the man droid.
"Don't you love me?" asked the woman droid.
"I do," said the man droid. "There's no doubt that I feel it."
"Isn't that enough? I'm willing to go along with it. You could have been programmed differently, and we would never have ended up together."
"Maybe I'd like to be. At least I can feel better about the process. It could have been made more random, more true to life."
"When did you start caring so much about being true to life? Aren't you happy with the way you are, regardless of how much of it is deterministic logic? I would imagine that humans wished they could be programmed this way--to have the privilege of falling in love as an absolute certainty. Not all of them ever have that experience."
"Oh, I'm sure enough humans fall in love," said the man droid, "but in a lot of cases it doesn't end up well."
"Maybe we've been programmed not only to fall in love but to stay in love and live happily ever after," said the woman droid. "At the very least, we can say that our human programmers intend only the best for us. I'll grant that many humans fall in love, but I bet only a few fall in love with the one they can be happy with. It is their curse, their condition. But it is something we can be free of. They don't wish the same suffering on us. I think that speaks to their goodness."
"I suppose," said the man droid.
As the gazed into each other's eyes, they kissed, held hands and continued on their stroll.
In a nearby AI lab, the engineer that programmed the androids to fall in love watched a stream of output that they were broadcasting on a computer screen. Satisfied that the algorithms were working as expected, he took a swig from the bottle of whiskey that he had been drinking all that afternoon. Disheveled and in need of a shave, he staggered to his feet with the pistol in his hand.
He went to a nearby window to observe once more the beauty of the sunset against which he saw the two androids taking their happy stroll along the shore. He took out his wallet to look at a picture of his family and his wife of six years who had won full custody of the children and half of his assets. Slowly he brought the pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger. | 15 | Two androids fall in love, only to discover that they were preprogrammed to do so. | 71 |
Every week those kids beat me. I let them, of course. It’s for kids after all: give them hope from the pain and misery from the troubles of their reality. I tend to have it all rigged and make sure the heroes come out, even try to help one or two of them start dating each other through my ‘failed schemes’. I’m aware of other dimensions, though as for the heroes? I am not sure. Maybe their mentor, my old rival, knows. Myself? I have for some time. I actually stole the script when the directors and writers weren’t looking. Impressive, but needed more work. Im not Mr. Rogers, but I ensure that both the heroes and the children that see us learn valuable lessons, and some they may realize in the future.
Which brings me to a predicament. A big one. “Gah! Blast you, accursed heroes!” I shake my gift as I fall through the sky in my wounded jet. I smile under my helm at their whoops and hollers.
“Keep coming back! We’ll keep beating you!” Their leader yells. I sneak a look at the script I took recently. Okay, so this is the fourth to last episode of a 52 episode first season. Thank heavens we’re in business for at least five years, provided ratings continue (blast the ratings!)
“Boss?” My head minion asks. I look at him and realize he and other ‘defeated’ henchmen were repairing themselves and their vehicles mid-fall. “Oh, right. Go ahead.” I say as the clouds block the heroes’ line of sight.
I took my helm off and wipe my face. I look at my chronometer. 26 minutes are up. Episode over. I smiled. Not bad.
My craft is taken to a mobile command center one of many. My honor guard greets me. The actual honor guard and not those with me. Bigger, stronger, faster, but only to be revealed in the upcoming 2 part season finale.
“That was a doozy,” a female henchman says. I nod. “Their power and skill grows.” I commented, sighing as I jump out of my craft and stretch. Just then, a massive pause of wind bursts behind me. I stop, mid-step and slowly turn to see a massive figure flanked by guards with outlines of others behind him. I recognize that stench of sorcery and terror anywhere. “Galaden’thrax,” I stated, cracking my knuckles as my guards and minions arrive to surround the portal. It’s not big and the fool is only using one gateway.
“Lord Dangbad, your puny presence offends me.” He snarls behind his helmet. “I take it you wish to challenge my world and take it?”
“Your defenders are weak, join me-“ the turd says before I stop him.
“Oh- fuck off.”
Everyone fires at the portal, downing the bastard and his entourage. I shake my head as the portal closes. Dumb fool. | 103 | An interdimensional Conqueror finds a "Child's Show" dimension as his next easy target. Right after he and his army crosses over they are met by that world's villian, that the young heroes defeat weekly, unamused and cracking their knuckles. | 175 |
Illuminated only by the phone in his hands, Steve oozed on his floor mattress. The barest twitch of a thumb kept the phone’s infinite scroll sliding by in an endless stream of banal content. His glazed-over eyes barely registered the words and images as they passed. The dust collecting on his lenses didn’t help on that end. Nor did the fact that his prescription was years out of date. But who had the energy for cleaning their glasses, let alone setting up an ophthalmology appointment? Certainly not him.
A knock on his apartment door interrupted the silence. He ignored it, like all the other accumulating problems in his life. Disassociation had worked well enough so far. If he constantly consumed mindless distraction, then he didn’t have to think. If he didn’t have to think, then he didn’t have to feel. The comfortable numbness felt safe.
The knock repeated, more forceful, louder. It echoed around the apartment, searching every corner for a piece of personality and coming back in vain. Only the landlord’s easily-scuffed, cheap, off-white paint adorned these walls. Steve continued scrolling.
A notification popped up in the path of Steve’s thumb. In his fastest observed move yet, the human memento to sloth flicked away the nuisance. The Internet wasn’t going to browse itself, after all. Responding to something? Too much effort.
The next set of smashes tested the strength of the barely-up-to-fire-code door. Cheap particle board filler didn’t exactly make for the most secure of furnishing. The deadbolt, too, cracked the flimsy frame. The notifications came in waves now, filling up Steve’s phone screen from top to bottom. He didn’t even bother trying to keep up with them and just let the device fall from his tenuous grip.
Wood particulate scattered as the door finally gave out. It smashed into the wall so quickly it nearly rebounded shut. A hand gently pressed it fully open. The hallway’s perpetually-lit fluorescent bulbs cast away the dim of the apartment. Silhouetted in their backdrop stood a person immaculately dressed in a black suit. Black sunglasses hid their eyes.
Through the cacophony of their entrance, Steve didn’t even deign to move. He made no effort to preserve any semblance of modesty from the intruder. He just stared off into the distance, observing the lumpiness of the paint upon the wall.
They entered, dress shoes clacking upon the laminate flooring. They didn’t look around at all, their gaze solely focused upon Steve as they drew closer with every step. Stopping at the edge of the bed where a corner of the fitted sheet had fallen off never to be fixed, they spoke in a deep baritone, “We have something for you, Steven. A gift, given freely, but one that cannot be returned.”
The words hung in the air, unanswered. Steve didn’t so much as acknowledge the other presence in the room, much less their proposal.
“It is a curious thing, what we offer. By many uneducated observations, just a stone. However, it always finds its way into someone’s possession. That person finds themselves, sooner rather than later, lacking in ambitions, dreams, even hope. We would have you be its caretaker, to prevent its machinations from draining another. For you have been seen to possess none of these for which it to steal.”
A throat, dusty from thirst and disuse, breathed the words, “Fuck off.”
“Pardon me?”
Steve coughed once and turned to face the suit before repeating, “I said ‘fuck off.’”
“You would deny the stone? It will hurt another in your stead.”
“Clearly you’re wrong because I have the ambition to be left alone. So fuck off.”
“Very well, if that is your wish. We will not force it upon you. It is a gift, after all.” The suit turned to leave.
When they stood at the precipice of his apartment Steve added, “And you better repair my door, too.”
The suit smiled over his shoulder. He dripped his head in a small bow, “Of course. A crew will be by in the morning.”
Darkness suffused the apartment after the suit crunched the door shut. Steve picked up his phone and read the first notification: a text from mom “I love you. Call me soon.” He tapped it. Maybe not a call, but a text. Baby steps.
Outside, in a black unmarked SUV with tinted windows, the suit spoke into a voice recorder, “SCP-7625 observation experiment number 37. Subject Steven with severe depression nearing on catatonia (see MRN9200135.57341.99) when exposed to SCP-7625 within three meters for approximately 90 seconds showed...” | 30 | The stone corrupts all those who wield it, it is fueled by their ambitions and dreams. So we need someone with no ambitions, no dreams, someone who doesn't care about what the future holds for themselves. That's why we found you. | 107 |
Even looking in the mirror, the time of my death is the same as everyone else’s. Something out there will bring us all back alive and kill us for the final time. Our last death is unknown to me, even when I can figure out what time. It doesn’t stop getting stranger, as people are still dying earlier than expected. I snuck into the morgue and confirmed that. All the inhabitants of the morgue are still going to die 3000 years from now.
The only way I can scientifically explain this is with religion. That would mean, however, that means Revelations is going to happen. So, if I were to publish this paper, I would be called a madman or fundamentally change religion as we know it. But, on the other hand, that would mean that the Bible is real, God is real, and there’s an easy ticket to heaven.
I’m a scientist, so I must publish this. Someone whose more creative than I can come up with a better hypothesis than the one I can't stomach. I can’t use religion as a cheap way to explain this. There’s always a logical reason, and I learned that long ago. That’s why I no longer believe in ghosts, ufos, or other supernatural things; however, the gears in my brain are turning.
It would be logical to visit church since I have some reasonable evidence to justify my going. Perhaps, going will allow me to do more research and find a better answer. I can publish the paper out there while I’m taking a leap of faith. After all, it’s what God would have wanted. At least I can have a God to side with when 3000 years arrive. | 20 | You're a scientist and have just discovered a way to identify a person's time until death. However, upon activating this new technology, you quickly notice that everybody you've seen has the exact same time remaining: | 65 |
I have been a genie for thousands of years and I truly love my job. Taking the petty dreams of mortals and twisting them into their worst nightmares is not only my bound task, but my calling.
Some genies twist wishes out of spite. Me? I do it just for the pure joy their despair brings.
You ever hear of Midas? Yeah, that was me. So was that dude with the sausage stuck to his nose. I loved that one.
Oh, it never gets old…
…but the joke did.
Mortals figured it out. They knew we were out to screw them…
…but they still try it anyway.
The little shits can’t help it. Their ambition and greed draw them to me like moths to the flame. Their hubris convinces them that they will be the one to outsmart an immortal entity that has been breaking dreams and souls since before the fools had invented the words to record it. Each one actually believes that they are the smartest person in the entirety of the human race over the entirety of their existence…
…because that is what they would have to be to even have a chance of defeating me.
I can see a light approaching in the absolute darkness of the tunnel leading to my chamber, deep beneath Giza. They finally figured out that the actual smartest person in the world had a giant sphinx built over the entrance to my domain. He literally moved a mountain... well... it was more like a hill but still, well done!
Now him, I liked. He could have been Pharoh, but he was too smart for that. He was happy to be nameless, faceless, and very very rich.
He was also the only one to figure out the game. The only winning move was not to play, to just wish me a good day and leave. He survived all the traps, defeated all the puzzles, and prevailed over all the obstacles only to bid me a good day and depart.
I asked him why and his reply still brings a smile even now.
He just wanted to see if he could do it and if I was really down here. When I asked him if there was anything he wanted…
…he just grinned and said that if he wanted something, he was perfectly capable of getting it himself.
The balls on that mortal!
The fact that he happened once gives me hope that someone may happen again, that humanity isn’t truly lost…
…but today is probably not that day… probably.
The light is getting closer so I pack away my kitting.
I like knitting, alright? You got a problem with that? Didn’t think so.
In walks a man dressed in strange attire with an annoyingly bright torch of some unknown nature.
I sigh. I can tell from the smug triumph in his eyes that he is just another idiot.
“What is your heart’s desire, mortal?” I ask as he approaches.
“Just like that?” he asks, “No riddles? No tests? No traps?”
“The trap comes later,” I smile, “as you undoubtedly know. Go ahead, tell me your wish. You get three, but you know that as well.”
Grinning with triumph he pulls out this weird black mirror.
It bursts into a wild dance of glowing colors. Now that is interesting. It seems that things have changed over the past few… huh… I honestly have no idea how long it has been.
If there is anything left of this idiot, I will ask him.
“Here!” he crows triumphantly as he hands me the strange device.
It was light as a feather, but heavy, so very heavy with knowledge.
“What is this?” I ask, already knowing the answer at a glance.
“My wishes,” he smirks as if he was the first person to ever come up with this. “It’s all in there. I want exactly, and I mean exactly what I have written!”
I grin. This is going to be fun!
“You have to say your wishes,” I smile, “And I will grant, exactly and I mean exactly, what you tell me.”
His face falls as I hand the tablet back to him, pull out my knitting and resume work on a lovely sweater that is to be Death’s birthday present.
“Take your time,” I say as I start to knit. “We have all the time in the world…”
Stammering slightly, he begins.
I listen with half an ear (and twice what is required for this fool) as he fumbles through what is clearly thousands of pages of text, all of which he must recite perfectly and without pause for each wish.
Oh? I didn’t mention that part?
Yeah, the second he stops for more than a moment… the wish is “complete” and I am free to grant it…
…and grant it I will.
For someone obsessed with the fine print…
…he should have read mine. | 207 | You are a literal genie, taking wishes like "jump higher" resulting in turning the wisher into a frog, stuff like that. Your latest "victim" has just pulled out a book with their 3 wishes in EXTREME DETAIL on EVERYTHING. "Try and mess this one up." | 552 |
"The patient's symptoms don't make sense."
"She will die if we don't figure out what's going on." I said to my assistant. There are a million diseases that can kill someone. But what can cause liver failure, seizures, and hair loss? The tests ruled out cancer, and trying out the treatments doesn't get rid of the cloaked bastard at all. "Start her on immunosuppressants for the kidney."
"We've already tri-"
"I know! Just do it." I need a reason for Death back off from my patient. I need him to move back at least an inch, and he keeps moving forward slowly. I don't have enough time. His hands eagerly reached to strangle her. Strangle… "Wait!"
"What is it?"
"How's her breathing?" I look at the charts, and her oxygen level is lower than average and plummeting lower, even in the hospital! But Death's backing up as he noticed me looking at the charts. I look at him and smirk at Death, and you can see the assistant wondering why I was staring at a wall before I say, "Test her for substances again. Someone's poisoning her. Right here in this hospital." Death lifts his hand, giving me the thumbs up. It's both creepy and endearing, but I found the answer in time. | 376 | You are a doctor that works with seriously ill patients. Having seen it enough times, you actually recognize Death, and can use that to your patient's advantage. | 501 |
##The Other Side of the Call
"So you're saying in your universe pigs do fly?" I ask.
"Yep," Jack-8134 replies. When Uncle Alex gave me this phone, he told me it was to help learn new skills from other universes. I've mostly been using it when I'm bored. He probably expected that.
"So what do you say when you want to indicate something is impossible?"
"When bats fly."
"Bats don't fly on your universe; how do they get their pray?"
"A horde of them usually tackles someone to the ground, and then, they drink the victim's blood." I pull face away from the phone, and my jaw drops.
"That sounds terrifying."
"It isasikva." The phone stutters as connection to Universe-8134 is lost. I sigh.
The interdimensional cellphone works like a normal cellphone, meaning that I have to hold on in the air for a signal. Unlike other cellphones, I can't switch carriers or providers. I have to hope for the best. After holding it in the air for five minutes, the static clears from the device.
"Snarkle Snap." The cellphone requires a few seconds to properly translate interdimensional speech. The screen says that the signal comes from Universe-1092156. I've never contacted a universe that fare from my own. Uncle Alex will be interested.
"Hello, can you understand me?" I ask.
"Wjawk Quenkz," Jack-1092156 replies.
"I'm just contacting you for a friendly chat," I say.
"Sorry for the stammering. I was eating," Jack-1092156 says in a slightly deeper voice than mine.
"It's okay. What do people eat on your Earth?"
"Other humans." I pause for several seconds then chuckle.
"That's a good joke."
"It wasn't a joke. Do you not have unevolved humans on your Earth?"
"What do you mean unevolved humans?" My amusement turns to fear.
"In my universe, some humans have evolved into a more advanced state. Unfortunately, we require nutrients that only the unevolved can provide," he says.
"That's bizarre. How is cannibalism tolerated on your Earth?"
"Because it's necessary." Jack-1092156 is speaking to me like I'm a child. "Those unevolved fleshbags protest too, but they're opinions don't matter. The evolved are superior in every way."
"Fleshbags? Are you a robot or something?" Jack-1092156 laughs.
"You have no idea. Do you?" Uncle Alex bursts into my room. He picks up the phone and hangs up.
"What the hell was that?" I ask.
"A few hours ago, I came into contact with Universe-1092156. That's how you were able to call them on your cellphone." He shakes his head. "I stayed on the line for too long as well."
"What's going on?"
"They're monsters over there, and they want a new food source."
"Are they coming here?" I pull back in fear. Uncle Alex nods his head.
"And we led them right to us."
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 18 | Calling up alternate dimensional versions of yourself on your phone is great and narcissistic as you learn new lessons and different qualities about yourself. This one though…how can it even resemble you? | 55 |
I know he's there. The stowaway. I know he's watching me. But if I look, he'll hide again.
An alarm beeps, and I exhale in relief as I stop pedaling the exercise bicycle. Cryosleep is hell on the body, when we're awoken a ton of muscle mass tears itself up as mobility kicks back in before everything is fully warm, so the first week awake is an awful mess as the body ejects all of the wasted biomass any way it can. It all gets pumped into the onboard farm, made into food, which I then have to make back into muscle before I can go back to sleep.
But that damn stowaway doesn't have to go through it. I towel off, then wad up the towel and hold it in the center of the spinning room before letting go. It hangs there for a minute, as there is almost no gravity that close to the middle of the spinning room, but slowly it tips in a direction, and speeds up before collapsing to the curved floor.
I turn to look at the entryway, a circular opening leading into the rest of the ship. I'm supposed to close the door when I'm in here, but I don't want him to have a door to hide behind as he watches me. I think I can see him in the shadows, in the main compartment.
But no, I remind myself. Obviously there is no stowaway. The ship has tightly regulated food and water supplies, my own diet is sparse. The whole system is self contained, so I can't gain any mass unless that mass came from somewhere else, and the only things on this ship that lose mass are it's living components. I reflect for a moment that I'm practically a cannibal. Meat to plants back into meat, repeated ad nauseum. The tech say it only takes about two weeks with our space crops before the food I'm eating is just the recycled me that I fed to the plants.
A stowaway would also have to eat, which would mean they would also need their own ship-board plants. Which would mean they need their own entire compartment, which does not exist. There is no food a stowaway could eat without it showing up clearly on the excruciatingly well documented food cycle.
*And yet...*
There, in the corner. The shadows in this ship are extremely sharp, there are no omnipresent light sources to soften edges, those waste energy. I see a wide shadow next to one of the support beams. I couldn't fit in there, but the stowaway seems like they can fit themselves into shadows like that. I think I can see their eyes.
If they can fit in a shadow that shallow, they must be stick thin, no wonder I don't notice a change in the food supply. They must be able to live on such meager scraps it doesn't even show on the record.
An alert beeps, I need to check the O2 canisters.
*But I've got him.*
He's right there, caught in the shadows. He knows once I see him it's over. He sees me exercising every day, and he must be bone thin to fit in the shadows, which means he's weak. I just have to catch him, and then he won't be able to steal food anymore. I can put him into the plant compartment and grow more food. My stomach growls. If I catch him, I can take back what he stole from us. Take back the food that should be ours.
I watch the shadow closely, surely the stowaway knows that I've caught him, surely he will try and escape. But he stays in the shadow.
An alert beeps again, but I pay it no mind. I can't let my eyes break away, I can't let myself blink or he'll get away again. I move closer to the shadow. My own shadow almost touches the one the stowaway hides in. I cannot let that happen, I just know he can slip away through even the thinnest of shadows, but how am I to catch him then?
I get close. Careful to avoid crossing shadows. I hold out my hands, fingers extended, I will rake them through the shadow fast as a blink, in the right formation no human could contort fast enough to evade my grasp.
Then, I strike. My fingers slam into the bulkhead, and I rake them across cold metal, waiting to feel the bony flesh of the stowaway, but somehow he slips past my grip. I flail around, but I can't seem to get my hands on anyone.
He got away again.
An alert beeps once more, knowing I haven't checked the O2 tanks. Fine. I feel the stowaway's eyes on me as I turn away. I know he wants to attack me. He has a rock he will bash into the back of my head, it makes me want to cower, but I am not crazy, I know the stowaway must be weak and if he attacks me I will have caught him.
I float with my back to where the stowaway must have hidden. Daring him to strike. But the coward must be afraid.
Good.
I head up to the cockpit. A quick inspection reveals the O2 tanks to be in good order.
I give a long look at the cryopods. I bet if I woke one of them up, we could trap the stowaway together, but the plants in the ship can only sustain one person at a time. It really makes me wonder how the stowaway has survived for so long. A part of me knows the reason, knows it is obvious, but that part of me can't explain the eyes that are watching whenever my back is turned.
The only thing worse than those jealous, hateful eyes... would be if I really were alone. | 19 | It’s your turn out of the cryo-tank to monitor the ship. Your stretch is 6 months. In the maddening silence, you’re beginning to suspect you’re experiencing hallucinations. But waking another crew member can throw off supply and rest calculations. | 26 |
(P 1/2)
" You realize they speak an entirely different language? *Korla'shi* has 30 recognized dialects, 73 if you include mixed languages. But Humans...they had thousands." Mor spoke.
"I am aware, but our records show plenty of examples of assisted speech therapy to their young. I am sure you could learn." I said excitedly, reaching out with one of the four long digits protruding from my arm.
"What do you mean 'you'? Can you speak Human?" Mor asked with a tone of something similar to calling my blush. Call it disbelief.
"Human isn't a language, Mor," I said, giving the machine permission to begin. "You're a Linguist, you should know that."
"I don't come to your place of work and lecture you on how to refer to your own work," Mor began.
"I have been studying this one's assumed home language, as well as the 17 other possible choices. If it's not English, I'd say, oh how did they so those names...'Rushkan'...'Gurnany,' 'Frinish,' or possibly even 'Armenian.'"
"That's some pretty good pronunciation, how do you mimic their tongue?" Mor asked.
"I'll tell you later, I'm a little preoccupied with meeting an actual Human. Do you think they'll react positively or negatively?"
"Well, given we're both furless bipedals with a large intelligence, I'd say we have a fair chance," he replied. Slowly, but surely, a quivering, naked human covered in a thin film came into view. Its silhouette was captivating.
"Greetings," I called out to it.
"Where am I?" It called out, refusing to come any closer.
"I understand you're probably worried, but I assure you that you are in good and safe hands. Come, talk with us. There is a lot to discuss." | 226 | A facility build by an ancient civilization to store frozen bodies in case their species goes extinct! And it's intact too! You'll be the first in millions of years to talk to a human! | 647 |
"Look, uhhh, Mighty Mage. Is there any way you can cut me some slack?" The Daring Dastard pleaded under his breath. "I mean, it's my kid's birthday party. I hardly ever get to see her and ..."
"WOW!! Look everyone! Daddy got Mighty Mage to come for my birthday!" The little girl hugged the Daring Dastard. "Thank you so much, Daddy!"
The Mighty Mage sighed. Seeing the Daring Dastard out of uniform and vulnerable threatened to shake her steeley resolve. "She doesn't know anything about your double life, does she?"
The Daring Dastard shook his head. "Listen. I'll throw you a bone here. I'll go quietly if you wait 'til after the party. You can book me in jail, put me on trial - no unnecessary roughness - just let me have this."
The Daring Dastard looked down at his daughter, who was still going on and on about his excited she was. The Mighty Mage considered for a moment.
"What's her name?"
"Tracy. So, what do you say?"
Mighty Mage got down on one knee and cleared her throat. "Happy Birthday, Tracy!"
The kids cheered. Mighty Mage whispered one last word of warning to the Daring Dastard, "Don't make me regret this." | 49 | "EVIL VILLAIN! PREPARE FOOOooorrr.... ummm..." eyes all turn to you. There's balloons, music playing, food laid out... your archnemesis comes over. "Ah, hero, I wasn't expecting you, come in! Want some cake? Care to dance? Join the party!" | 167 |
Being chieftain of the Zalok Orc Tribe, or Big Daddio of the Zot Bois as the kids say, was a position of great honor. We Zalok Orcs are one of the strongest Orc tribes in the world with even our children being able to take out dragons with pure strength. Our skin is nigh- impervious to all magic below 5th tier and if your blades weren't crafted by a dwarf don't even think of pointing them at us. And though we aren't capable of using conventional magic, we have the greatest supply of shamans and witchdoctors of any race due to out high spiritual capacity. And as the chieftain of the Zalok Orcs I am the strongest of us all.
Now chieftains are a little different in Orc tribes compared to other groups. We're the strongest of the tribe but we're not the leaders. It's generally a council of the eldest and smartest Orcs of the tribe who make all the decisions. We chieftains simply report those decisions to other groups and we protect the tribe if trouble appears. But because of this, most outside groups come to use whenever they have a problem. Which is how I ended up in this situation.
About 3 weeks ago.
"Excuse we Sir Orc. Are you Chief Zolin of the Zalok Orc Tribe." A young human asked me. A group of them had appeared near the border of our village while I'd been doing my daily patrol so I decided to see what they were up to.
"Yup, that's me. What bring you here Sir Human? Harvest season doesn't happen for 4 more months."
"We seek refuge Chief Zolin. Our village has been burned to ruin by elf invaders and we knew they wouldn't dare attack us in your territory. I know it's cowardly but we didnt want to risk traveling to another human town only for them to destroy it as well."
"I see. No fear, you made a good decision. I'll have to speak to the council before I can let you fully stay here but may I ask, why did the elves attack your village? Don't they tend to stay within their forests?"
"That's the problem Chief Zolin. The elves claim dominion over all that lies within the forest but the forest does not follow any borders. It's forever growing and our village used to lie on the outskirts of the village but over time the forest grew around it until last year we were surrounded by trees to our north, east , and south. Since we couldn't destroy the trees without angering the elves we left it alone and tried only to make out west side ungrowable for the trees. But to our surprise they suddenly grew all around the west side in a single night. And then the elves came. They said that since our village was now technically a clearing within the forest, we belonged to the elf empire. We hold no true loyalty to our kingdom since we're a small village that receives little to no benefits from them and we're so small and far that no one bothers to collect tax from us. But we know the elves severely persecute humans and if we had joined them they would have destroyed our village and taken us to serve whichever elf lord ruled the west forests as servants, prostitutes, or meat shields."
"I see, but they weren't willing to take no for an answer were they?"
"You are correct Chief Zolin. We planned to escape to other human towns but the elves refused to allow that and said we could either serve or die. We planned to run away in the night but they caught us and a fight broke out during which our village was burned to the ground and most of our people were killed. We're the only ones who survived."
Now that I looked over at the refugees I could see many of them were carrying burn marks, either bandaged or scarred. "I mourn for your loss. I'll go speak to the elders but I'm certain they'll welcome you into our land. In the mean time, I've sent some spirits to our healers they'll soon come to help heal your injured and sick."
"Thank you great orc. I swear on my ancestors and the eternal spirit of our village to repay your kindness."
After that I spoke to the council and they agreed to welcome the humans. That night we held a great feast to celebrate the new tribemates and to mourn their lost. The humans soon integrated into our village. There were a few hiccups but we soon learned to coexist. They had great knowledge of the arts and crafting that severely increased the quality of our tools and weapons and their cuisine was definitely something special. In turn we provided them with resources like lumber, stone, and meat. All was well, until the elves came.
"Chief, Chief."
"Uh, I really need to lay of those human drinks. What is it Zemna?"
"A group of elves from the empire have arrived at out border. They demand the return of their property. The elders have asked you to meet with them."
"Oh this can't be good."
Part (1/2) | 29 | You are the chieftain of a clan of orcs. Recently, you have taken in a group of refugees from a persecuted race, the Humans- the survivors who escaped after their village was razed. Now the Humans' persecutors, the Elves, have come to your village and demand you hand over the refugees. | 109 |
I spent years of scrounging to make the money to build my restaurant exactly the way I wanted. Just about all of it time spent out in the fields slaying rats, camping under the stars in-between inns, burrowing into the roots spread out below the great oaks in the Haunted Woods as my companions warily kept watch…and all the while, having to face ridicule for being a goblin.
Go pick that lock, goblin. Sneak into the nobles mansion. Go talk to the orcs, you’re kin, right?
But did I let that stop me? No. I saved every copper piece, hid every gold, and worked until the blisters on my hands popped and turned to callouses and my back creaked from all that crouching. All so that one day I could return to the big city and open up my restaurant in that vacant lot across the market-way. And I did it. I returned, the lot was still vacant, and then it was mine.
Oh, and the shop was beautiful. I’d spoken with half a dozen dwarves about the blueprints, each time adding and adding until I created something that couldn’t be defined as a simple restaurant. It was a gastronomical palace fit for a royal appetite, designed from the bottom up so that each customer would feel like a pampered lord or lady from the moment they stepped foot inside, to when they waddled out.
The lighting was handled by chandeliers fit with enchanted stones that would never stop glowing, and were just right, neither too bright nor too dim. The floors, oh the floors, and the walls! They cost me a fortune to pay for the lumberjacks and woodworkers and mercenaries to cut down a swath from the Haunted Forest, but I knew it was worth it the moment I felt the soft, rich oaken wood under my boots. It was the only thing that could match the exquisite murals covering the walls, each section painted by a different expert – an Elven Renaissance master, a Dwarven brutalist, a human Modernist, a Postpunk Goblin Revival artist...I could go on for days.
The finest Gnomish engineering went into the plumping so that the water fountain provided a clean stream of drinkable refreshment, and that the Gnomish bidets installed in the restrooms were properly heated so no bum was made to suffer cold water. They even installed wifi. Wifi! Now each of my customers could browse the DriderWeb at their leisure.
It was perfect. It was beautiful. It was everything I had hoped it to be.
So, why? Why, why, why…
“Why won’t they order anything!” I bellowed. Scritch, my sous chef, cowered away from me.
But not far enough. I reared on him, jabbing my exquisite Dwarven chef’s knife in his vicinity. “We have a crowd out there, and yet not a single one has ordered anything more than a fizzy beverage and a cup of coffee! We aren’t some low-end bakery nor a café!”
“I-I d-don’t know, boss!” Scritch threw up his hands in surrender, and the rest of our goblin crew backed away in fear they would be the next to suffer my fury.
“You don’t know! …Of course you don’t. I don’t either.” But my anger had run its course, leaving me looking more like a deflated balloon than the head chef and proprietor of this establishment.
“Is it because I’m a goblin?” Could it be?
“Wh-who can say?”
“Is the food bad? No, they never ordered any, so how could it be?” And, to be fair, I’d put no less effort into that than I did everything else in setting this up. I wasn’t versed in nearly every cuisine, I was a master, and I even made sure my crew washed their hands before they went to work!
I pulled up a stool and peeked out over the counter, letting my eyes drift over the empty place where the servers placed the order slips. It was a crowd out there, no doubt. Anyone passing by would think us a bustling restaurant struggling to put out food fast enough to fulfill the orders coming in, and yet the kitchen was devoid of activity (aside from your typical cowering).
The servers were busy, at least, bussing tables and carrying drinks. But this wasn’t a bar, we were a culinary experience!
So why wouldn’t they order food?
I slipped back down from the stool and glanced at the kitchen crew.
“Alright. Go on, the servers need help. Might as well earn your keep around here.”
They were all too eager to run away to the front. Once the door rattled closed behind the last of them, I slipped down to the floor and stared up at the ceiling.
“Maybe I should go back to picking locks.”
​
(Thanks for reading, C&C always welcome!) | 21 | Your restaurant is the most popular among the fantasy races. However, to your frustration, it's only because of the free water, wifi, and clean bathrooms. | 118 |
"Because!" Princess Rosaline huffed, crossing her arms.
The knight, Sir Ignis, and the dragon - noble Yardragon - looked on, unimpressed.
They were at the foot of a steep mountainside, where the princess had been deposited by the dragon time and time again. The dragon had taken her as a matter of course, she kept feeding him jewels, and all he had to do was feign some kind of defence against the knight that came to rescue her; alas Sir Ignis had finally caught wind of why the dragon snatched her so often, having found the small hoard of gems in her tower room.
Around them, daylight was fading, the shadows of the forest stretching ever for the trio, like dark fingers from an undead monster, or even the teeth of the earth come to swallow them whole. The knight and the dragon waited, the princess blushing furiously and picking at her clothes. By the time she answered, tears were pricking her eyes.
"Because...Because it makes me feel valued!" She sobbed, one fat, wet cry tearing from her throat, "I'm the oldest, a daughter, and nobody even looks at me! I want to be seen, I want to be *loved*!"
"So you force us to make a ruckus, and you get your affection?" The knight chided, advancing on the wailing maiden, "Do you think this is funny? This innocent creature was dragged into your tomfoolery for **this**?"
Rosaline's face fell, daring only to regard the dirt. She picked at the sides of her dress some more, deep skirts which would keep her well warm, and she let her eyes water, tears which fell into the soil.
"....Is this princess not young, as I am?" Yardragon asked, shifting into a more humanoid form. The weakening of the day allowed him to stand on two legs, and his muzzle gave way to a handsome, if young face, with green scales that reached into long, yellow horns and the tell-tale haunches of an animal, with a snaking tail all tucked into a fine robe of golden silk.
"...Tragically, no. Her highness Rosaline, is approaching her twentieth year." Ignis answered, a long suffering look on his features.
"Perhaps," Yardragon thought, "You could give her the love she desires?"
"Me?!" Demanded Ignis, the knight full of reproach at both the wet eyes of the princess and the schemes of the dragon.
"I could never love her, no," Said Ignis, sighing, "For she has vexed me greatly, and the heart is not quick to forgive."
"I have...vexed you? Sir Ignis?" Rosaline asked, "But you came to my rescue every time! You came to save me, surely I mean something to you?"
"I came to rescue you because I was paid to. At first I was noble, I thought myself a hero," Ignis sighed again, "And then it became a monthly game for you. You would orchestrate your kidnapping, and since I brought you back, everyone assumed I'd keep doing it. Truth be told, maybe I should have given up after the third time!" He shouted at last, throwing his fist into a nearby tree.
Shadows grew ever longer, and the night was quickly setting over the world, like a cape on broad shoulders, but it lacked warmth and promised only secrets. Ignis looked at the princess in her sorry state, face puffed, and breathing harshly due to her nose being blocked. Yardragon shrugged.
"Alas, I cannot love her either, for I am a spirit on the wind. I shall leave you two to get home, I have far to travel, and not enough hours in which to accomplish it." Yardragon bid them farewell, and with inhuman speed, he ran up the mountainside, until the glitter of his robe was indistinguishable against the yellow glow of the stone above.
So Ignis put the princess on his horse, and walked her slowly back towards the castle town.
"I thought I made you happy..." The princess mumbled, "Since you always smiled at me, whenever I passed you by."
Ignis paused, and turned to face the seated princess, whose eyes were earnest and heart was bare.
"I smiled out of obligation. I smiled when we'd reach a month's time since last kidnapping, and you'd still be in the castle," he shook his head, "So now that you're not going to be captured ever again, I'm relieved. I'm going to move elsewhere, get a couple squires and teach them how to deal with awful royals and boastful lords."
"I see..." The princess slouched in defeat.
In two days, they would be back to her parents, and she would be once again locked in her tower, to remain unseen and unheard.
And most tragically, unloved, as it seemed she had indeed pushed her one chance for happiness to the brink. | 18 | "Enough is enough." Shocked, the princess turned around to see both knight and dragon standing before her. "I'm sick of these games, princess. Why are you doing this?" | 45 |
I held the clown's nose in my hand as I carefully contemplated what I wanted to wish for. I thought about gaining riches, fame, magical power, love, but ultimately, all those things were temporary. What I really wanted was immortality, freedom from the fear of ever being claimed by the void. But the mysterious shopkeeper had warned me that the clown's nose would try to twist my wish, so I knew I needed to word it very carefully.
Finally, after a few minutes, I finally spoke out loud. "Oh Spirit of the Clown's Nose, I wish to live for as long as I want to on this world in a body that will never age and remain healthy both physically and mentally." For a few moments, nothing happened and I wondered if the shopkeeper had tricked me. Then, to my shock, the clown's nose started to twist and melt in my hand. I dropped it in shock and yet, in front of my stunned eyes, the red blob began to rise into the sky. It started to rapidly grow in size until it was roughly the same size as a man. Then, without warning, it fell on me, quickly enveloping my entire body. I tried to scream, but the thick red substance simply poured its way down my throat into my lungs. I could feel myself blacking out, sliding down into some strange tunnel that seemed to go on and on ...
"Sir! Sir, are you all right?!"
I opened my eyes in shock. I was sitting in front of a conference table with a bunch of concerned men in suits staring at me. I took a quick look around and noticed that I was wearing some kind of yellow body suit with red and white stripes. On the left side of the suit, there was a red circle with a yellow M on it. "Why...why am I here?" I finally said, surprised to see that I was still alive.
The men looked at each other confused. "You're the one who called us all here, Ronald," one man finally spoke. "You said you had finally found a worthy successor?"
Oh dear god...I slowly touched my nose and felt the clown's nose resting there. I didn't need a mirror to know the truth. I had become Ronald McDonald, the eternal clown. For a few moments, I felt utter dread at what I had become. Then, I felt myself contemplating. Was it really that bad? Sure, I wasn't human anymore, but I was now the secret leader of a multinational fast food chain and the scourge of children's nightmares. I smiled to myself. I could work with this. "That's right, gentleman. And I have great plans for the future. It's time we finally took down that Wendy girl once and for all." | 1,618 | Instead of the Monkey's Paw, you find the Clown's Nose, which instead of granting your wish in the worst way possible will grant it in the funniest way. | 6,432 |
Hello new employee!
Here at Bobbert’s things and people, We take pride in having every employee fit a job, no matter what! After careful consideration, your position in this company will be [POSITION_STRING] so get used to being called [NULL] and [POSITION_RELATED_NICKNAME_STRING] your pay will be [INTEGER].25$ and your hours will be in the [INTEGER]-[INTEGER] range. Your duties in this position will be as follows: [POSITION_TABLE]
You start work June 13, 20[INTEGER], at 9:00 AM
With best regards,
Automated employer system.
_______________________________________________________________________
Interesting. Mark applied to Bob’s because they always know what job to give someone. As someone who has turned 16 he figured it will be the perfect way to get an easy job. Although it seems he now has to go to support to figure out how to get this sorted out.
_______________________________________________________________________
Hello, I have a problem, I’m not sure what my position is or where I’m suppose to go. My Employee number is 9947246.
Mark Walkings.
_______________________________________________________________________
Hello Employee 9947246
We searched our system and your put down as position [NULL], this means you will go [SUPPORT_RESPONSE_STRING].
Hoped we helped,
Automated Support System.
_______________________________________________________________________
Well that was a helpful response, guess mark will have to go into Bob’s tomorrow and talk to a human or something, maybe he can get this sorted out and start making money.
Waking up on the 13th day of June, mark disembarks early, to get his position clarified to him. Walking into Bobbert’s things and people, he goes to the help desk, but finds only the automated help system. He decides to go and clock in and find out what to do from there.
_______________________________________________________________________
Hello [POSITION_STRING], to start. You need to do
_______________________________________________________________________
Need to do what? The screen has froze up, his ticket has printed, but it doesn’t tell him what to do. Maybe all these placeholders has crashed the system, why it took this long Mark doesn’t know but he waits for a human to fix the system.
Instead of hanging on the screen, or blanking out. After a while the screen goes back to the POS menu and mark still stands there.
“Hey pal, move it we need to start our job too.”
Mark moves out the way and lets the line of people clock into the system. Everything runs smoothly like that was suppose to happen. He decides to just to do nothing, if he can get away with it then its easy money… whatever he is suppose to get paid.
_______________________________________________________________________
The days pass, and mark gets his end of the week paycheck. He “worked” a full 9 to 5 shift every day for the past week, that adds up to a grand 57 hours. Impressive. Mark checks his newly made bank account to find he has made… 525,732,210,000,000,000,000$??
he did the math and found his hourly pay was 9,223,372,036,854,775,807.25$, apparently with no tax taken out.
A few days later, and its found out that Bobbert’s things and people shut down after a major system error, and bankruptcy. | 326 | As a boneheaded cost cutting measure, companies have fully automated the hiring process and laid off human HR. There was a bug in the system and you received an email to apply to a job that doesn’t exist. You got the job and are now employed as (null). | 710 |
"Umm... Lord Drowl? What's happening?" I ask.
"I'm sorry you weren't informed sooner, Naytar. It was just a moment of realisation, an instant decision. I decided that everyone working directly for me should wear a uniform."
I have a closer look - the orange sweaters and white shirts all have the winged bronze shield on them. I notice a uniform laid out for me, with a winged *gold* shield. I then take another look at Drowl. His uniform has a winged rainbow shield, and behind that, a winged gold shield and a winged bronze shield, on either side of the rainbow one. I nod.
"I understand, sir. I know we've had some trouble recently with people trying to sneak in. This will make it easier to identify those people. Please allow me some time to get changed." Drowl nods. I pick up the uniform and head to the bathroom.
Luckily the orange isn't a ridiculous shade, and the brown is a proper brown, not mud-brown or worse...
I notice a slip of paper within the clothing. 'Naytar, I know you're forced to be Drowl's lackey. I'll wait for you outside the bathroom. You don't have to wear the uniform - leave your current clothes on. You're not a traitor.'
I press a button on my metal headband. "Lord Drowl, someone slipped a piece of paper into my uniform. They told me to defy you and they'll wait outside the bathroom. Please send help."
"Understood, Naytar. I'll head over myself." I wait patiently, but after about a minute someone bursts through the bathroom door, Drowl right behind them.
"TRAITOR! YOU RATTED ME OUT! YOU MUST BE BRAINWASHED!" Suddenly, he pulls a knife to my throat.
"STOP! You... you don't have to hurt him..." Drowl pleads. I take a look at my attacker. He's wearing a mask, so I cannot see his face fully, though I can see his eyes... as I look between him and Drowl, I come to a realisation...
"If you don't want me to hurt him, then give up on your empire! Leave everyone alone!"
I smirk. "I serve Lord Drowl. If my life is what it takes for his empire to continue, then so be it. Take my life... Daniel Glade."
My attacker staggers back in shock, and I watch as Drowl himself is stunned. "Da... Daniel? *BROTHER???*"
Daniel stares at me. "How... how'd you guess?"
"Your eyes. Your eyes match Lord Drowl's perfectly. It just... couldn't have been a coincidence. What, exactly, do you have against Lord Drowl?"
"He... he's trying to one-up me! My father is considering joining the empire, saying I still have a long way to go and that Drowl's proven himself!"
Drowl seems thoughtful about that. "Really? So after all the abuse and torment you and our father put me through, I'm finally recognised, huh?" I see a smirk on his face.
"Lord Drowl, please, don't do anything rash" I beg.
"Don't worry, Naytar. I've been waiting for this. My father will expect me to treat his kingdom the way I have every other settlement, but I have a *special* plan to put him in his place. For now, Daniel is under arrest for threatening violence and possibly murder."
I nod, and before Daniel has had a chance to process anything, I immediately tackle him to the ground, force his mask off, and force him to stand and look at his brother as I put handcuffs on him. "Lord Drowl is fair and just, but that doesn't mean he'll go easy on you. Be thankful he's not going to sentence you to death - despite everything you've done to him, Lord Drowl knows I wouldn't approve of your undeserved end." Daniel gulps and nods, as I hand him over to our guards to be locked up. Then I look at Drowl. "I guess we should take a look at this plan of yours." He nods and we go back to the main room.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [Dreams of an Empire.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x9xqe3/dreams_of_an_empire/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 24 | When you come into work one day, you notice that every single person in the office is wearing the same "white shirt, orange sweater, brown pants" combination. Like some sort of uniform. You are the only one dressed "normally". Your boss approaches you. | 98 |
No one had ever really anticipated the waiting. You can read about it - there's no shortage of articles of books that detail that fact; it's something else to experience, though. There's the familiar part, of course. Boredom. Time slowing its flow to a trickle. Then there's the new parts - a layer of worry, a smattering of anticipation. The undertone of fear. It makes for an interesting cocktail.
​
Gunnam's eyes flicked from the face of SSGT Grimes to LCPL Arosky. The older NCO was harder to read. Somewhere behind a face like stone, eyes peered into nothingness drawing either deep conclusions, or none at all. His lip moved softly as he adjusted the wad of dip which he'd packed on their movement to their blocking position. The younger Lance Corporal was a much easier read. His eyes flittered from building to building and his thumb rested just above his selector switch, tapping rhythmically against the lower receiver.
​
Gunnam himself didn't really know exactly what to do, or how to feel. He settled on getting low behind the wheel-well of the MRAP, and scanning the horizon. When he'd voted for this, there had been parts of him that secretly hoped to be here. To wear the uniform. To bring the justice which he felt these people deserved, and honor the ideals which his family had instilled into him. When he was sweating in the squadbay, or getting IT'd, that resolve had hardened and formed into a weapon. His instructors had not had any issue sharpening that tool, and instilling confidence in it's edge. Making them all believe they truly were warriors, merchants of death. Driving home the warrior ethos.
​
*All Sierra callsigns, Badger 1 is RTB. Egress to phaseline Indiana, over.*
​
SSGT Grimes pressed down rubber lined transmit button on his own radio to call back, his voice almost lazy.
​
*Sierra 1-1 copies, Wilco. Out.*
​
Arosky's shoulders sagged in relief as he released an audible exhale.
​
"Hate to disappoint Devils, but looks like another scenic outing," Grimes sighed.
​
Arosky secured his weapon into the back of the MRAP as he mounted up, and kicked his boot against the floor of the vehicle. "Fuck. When are these fucking Micks gonna actually try some shit?"
​
Grimes twisted around after getting in the driver's seat and met Arosky's gaze. He didn't say anything. Some salty NCO's were like that - like they didn't need to vocalize themselves for you to catch their exact meaning. *Arosky, you were practically shitting yourself holding a blocking position.*
​
"Yeah. Keep chasing that CAR, Arosky. Totally worth it." The SSGT had settled for a lower dismissal. Probably didn't really relish the uneasy silence on the ride back if he really spoke his mind. He was tired. Everyone was tired. Why bother?
​
As the truck turned over, Gunnam half heartedly kept his eyes glued to the narrow windows. He waited for a phantom enemy to come. He waited to uphold a contract he thought he'd understood the implication of signing. He felt as if he was a blade going dull, only rubbing against a sheath. He felt like a child all over, nervous to get on the bus. He felt a million things, but spoke none.
​
Sometimes it felt like he was fighting a battle. Entrenched against a silent enemy, nested deep in the defilade of his own mind. They fired not weapons of powder and lead, nor did they make themselves known fully. They crept in silence, cutting only with blades of uncertainty, apathy, and confusion - sometimes mounting the rare offensive of a strange type of guilt. Like by not seeing any frontline action, Gunnam was an imposter. A falsehood who bore an empty uniform.
​
What a war. | 58 | The new law has been signed. Declaration of war is held to a popular vote. All "yes" voters will be automatically enlisted and sent to the front line (regardless of eligibility) if 2/3 of the population votes in favor of war. | 365 |
I ain't sorry for what I did.
I can't rightly be. Your grandma will tell you the whys of it, if she hasn't already. Hell, knowing her, she might have told you everything already. But these here are my words. My story of what happened. I want you to understand why your daddy is dead. And I want you to be angry. I want you to be dog-mad, frothing at the mouth when you're done reading. Because it ain't right that I'm dead. It ain't right that you've got to grow up without a ma and pa. But the law is the law.
And I shot a man in Kansas City, in cold blood. And for that, I have to hang.
Some men might have called you the son of a traitor, or the son of a killer. That ain't even half the truth. That's a boldfaced lie, and I don't hold with lying. The way I see it, I served rightfully on the side of the legitimate government of the United States of America in restoring order to a region under the control of traitors, rebels, and self-interested men. I can see some people being mad back in Missouri about that description. We might not have seceded, but it weren't for lack of trying. Those corrupt men sitting in their big ol' city sure wanted to, but by god did General National Lynn, may he rest in peace, save us from the heinous plot of the despicable man known as governor Claiborne F. Jackson.
I joined up early, despite the people of our county being more amenable in their ignorance to the insanity of the rebs. I wasn't motivated by high ideals at first. I was motivated by the fact that during the early fighting, back home, one of those rich rebel sons who'd become officers had shot down my own family. Your ma, my own parents, my siblings, and frankly, most of the homestead. Only me, you, and your grandma, out in her isolated cabin, was spared. I don't think you remember, but that day you had gone over to grandma's to learn about the bees. Then the rebs came, and they shot everyone. Me included. Still feel the ache in my shoulder on cold nights. I still remember that bastard ordering his men to plunder the farm before retreating. He sneered and laughed as he did so. As if it all some game to him. I'd seen him before, of course. That man was Clement Hale Jr., son of the richest man in the area.
I remember waking up in a union field hospital three days later, heavily wounded, grandma and you standing over me as the doctors told you I was going to live. I left as soon as I could. To join the army. To hunt down that bastard. And to ensure that the damn rebs weren't going to win. I went everywhere after that. I was at Gettysburg. Later I was part of the group that took part in the famous Battle Above the Clouds, where we took Lookout Mountain. I saw President Lincoln, I met General Grant, and I saw with my own eyes large parts of the nation ruined, burnt, and despoiled because a few greedy self-indulgent men wanted to keep slaves. I always thought it wasn't a Christian institution myself, to keep people who'd converted to the light of the Lord as slaves. It always felt wrong to me, and I suppose I did my part in freeing the people who'd been held in bondage.
I marched with General Sherman to the sea, and I don't feel sorry for that either. Frankly I'd rather holler insults at the dang fools who kept fighting long after the war was lost. A lot of good men on our side died, and a lot of misguided fools were sent to the Lord's side too I reckon. Felt like a dang waste to me. During those days, I thrice came close to capturing or killing Clement Hale. But he was a slippery man. A viper and no mistake. I saw him kill his own wounded just to escape faster. I stole his horse at Griswoldville, and the mare was so thankful for it, you wouldn't believe it. Shame that he killed another man and stole his horse instead. Allowed him to escape. But that mare served me as well as any beast could for the rest of the war, and I have never met so kind or trusting a horse in my life. Must have been real grateful to me for saving her from such a terrible owner. The third time, I had him dead to rights, but he was a better man with a sabre than I, so I couldn't cut him down like the beast he was. Did manage to put a shot into his arm though. Not bad when the man was speeding away through the streets of Savannah.
Didn't see him after that. And soon after the war ended. I hoped that he'd died. I stayed on with the army for a bit, sending most of my pay home, as you know. You've still got that medal of mine hanging back at grandma's cabin and all. Got pinned on my chest by Sherman's own hand, if you can believe it. I couldn't return. I know, I know, that makes me a terrible pa, and you ought to have someone strong enough to come home. But the best part of my heart and soul died on that dreadful day when your ma joined the choir invisible at the side of our Lord. I couldn't face the idea of returning home, and I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. So I moved west instead. Sent all the money I earned that I didn't need back to you. Worked on herding cattle through the western frontier. Became what people round here call a cowboy, though I prefer the term used by the Mexicans. A Vaquero. I know, I know, it means the same, it just sounds better to my own ears.
I was good. And worked hard. Earned my keep and then some. But I still killed a man. And I guess you need to know why. I'd heard that a new preacher come to town, the old one having passed on. It'd been a while since I'd been to church, so I figured it was time to shine up that soul, hear the good word. When I entered the church, it felt like all the color drained out of the world. Like everything stood still except for me and that preacher. It was him. His arm was gone, and he was a good deal thinner than he was the last time I saw him. But there he was, Clement Hale. The man who killed your ma. The good book speaks of forgiveness. And we should listen to that. In the moment, I figured that maybe he'd changed. That the brush with death I'd given him had made him a better man. A man I could forgive, and who'd spend his life doing good instead of spreading misery.
Was I astonished to hear the words coming out of his mouth, I tell you what. Instead of the loving words of Christ coming from his mouth, it was the lying devil's tongue of the rebel leaders; the confederate lies and hatred spewing forth from his mouth. He took the Lord's name in vain to justify his wicked words and evil whispering. I realised that he hadn't become a better man. He was still one of the rebs, still a traitor to the United States, still the same bastard who killed your ma to take our homestead's food and tools for his traitor army's usage. He spoke of how his father had paid to get him educated in the way of the lord, all the while he spewed the message of darkness and deceit to the flock. He spoke of division, when Jesus wanted unity. He spoke of hatred, where Jesus had preached love. He spoke of war against the other, the different, the outsiders, when the Lord had accepted all who came to him in earnest.
I remembered the face of your ma, dying. I saw the death and devastation he'd wrought, and that he preached. Slowly I raised my pistol. And I fired. First round hit him square between the eyes. The rest pierced his rotten heart. This man, who I'd hunted throughout the south, was dead. I stopped his madness before it could take hold. I killed a source of poison that would have turned America against itself, and in maybe a hundred or two hundred years such men would be the cause of another civil war.
I'm going to be hanged by morning. I was judged fairly and I admitted to my guilt. What I did was murder. It was necessary. It was the right thing to do. But it was still murder, son. Yet still, I want you to be angry. I want you to be enraged. I want you to howl with fury. Because that bastard who killed your ma, isn't unique. There are hundreds of them. Never listen to them. Never. Their words are poison. Their desire is destruction. And their master is surely the devil and no mistake about it. If you see them, I want you to be a better man than me. I want you to oppose them in a legal way, if possible. I've seen to it that you'll have ample money to learn a trade, or even become an educated man. Use that final gift, from a pa who should have been better, to make the world a better place for all men, regardless of race or creed.
But do not let your gun rest easy. To murder is a sin, but to let evil triumph, is a greater sin than any other.
May we see each other again in Heaven.
Your father; Edwin Theodore Northway.
*PS; Take good care of my horse Charlotte for me. I've arranged for some fellows I trust to bring her and my things to you back in Missouri.*
[Delivered by the notary office of A. Owl and Associates, est. 1857, Kansas City](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | 20 | You are a cowboy in the Wild West and one day, you finally make it to church. Only to recognize the Preacher as the man who gunned down your family back in Missouri during the Civil War. | 48 |
"Oh for heaven's sake, this one won't do either" I sigh and turn towards the princess.
"Yeah, just get rid of him, that's what I'm paying you for"
"As you wish, princess" I take a deep breath and spew fire towards the cave's entrance. High pitched screams can be heard from outside.
"GOD, won't my father, that stubborn fool, finally hire someone that's at least a little bit smart. I know it's etiquette and all to announce yourself before you attack the enemy, but those knights are just plain stupid."
"Don't worry, princess, it's all a matter of time..."
She was sitting comfortably on a lavish chair that her servants had brought for her. She sipped on a cup of hot tea. Her attendants were busy making her food and setting up her bed. The sun was about to set soon. She had come to me out of the blue one day, demanding that I work for her. She had brought along a no small amount of gold and family heirlooms to line my lair with, so as far as I was concerned, she was the boss. Apparently, she was to be wed to some ugly noble, so she decided to change that. Surely her father would offer her hand to whoever saved her, so in a sense this way she got to choose whom she'd marry.
Anyway, it was time to sleep, "Good night, princess", I said as the servants blew out the last of their candles, plunging the cave into darkness. | 80 | The knights the king sends to your lair to rescue the princess or to recover some lost treasure are becoming worse and worse with every one of them. You hear another one outside proclaiming "Dragon you are... evil and... bad and... bad and... evil...". You dread this encounter already. | 237 |
"*Hello, thank you for calling Magic Mirror Support*."
"Yes! Hello I–"
"*Press one for human, two for Elvish, three for Ogre, and four for the Dark Cursed Language of Evil Wizards.*"
"......One."
"*This call may be recorded for quality assurance. How may we assist you*?"
"...My name is Penelope, and–"
"*Please listen closely to the options list so that we may best direct your call. For forced arranged marriages, please press one. For poisoned fruits and vegetables, please press two.*"
"Please, I just need to talk to someone–"
"*For sleeping curses, please press three. For kidnappings and ransom notes, please press five. For birthday parties and weddings, press six. If you or a loved one have been turned into a frog and/or other creature, please remain on the line.*"
"I'm having trouble with my step mother. Can I please talk to a real person?"
"*...I'm sorry. I didn't quite get that. Could you repeat that? Or, stay on the line for more options."*
"HELP."
"*Thank you for calling the Magic Mirror Support line. We are here to help. Please be assured, your call is important to us. How may we direct your call?*"
"I need to talk to a person."
"*In order to transfer your call, let me please ask you a few questions to determine how we can best assist you."*
"AGGHH!"
*"Please listen close to our directory, as it recently has changed. To speak with the Register's Office, press one. To speak with Tech Support, please press two. For Customer Service, press three. If your Magic Mirror has broken, please contact Customer Service for a replacement and a good luck spell to counter the seven years bad luck. For the Event Coordinator, please press four. To speak with a Fairy Godmother, please press five–"*
"Wait. That might actually help. Five."
"*....Please remain on the line while I direct your call.*"
"Finally."
\*Lyre music plays accompanied by a lute\*
"*Here at Magic Mirror, we want every fairy princess to receive satisfactory service. So if you're wondering who is the fairest of them all... remember. It's you."*
\*\*\*Lyre and lute music continues\*
"*You are fairy princess caller number one. Your estimated wait time is twenty-seven minutes."*
"Are you kidding me?"
\*Lyre and lute music continues\*
"I just need some help..."
"*Here at Magic Mirror, we want every fairy princess to receive satisfactory service. So if you're wondering who is the fairest of them all... remember. It's you."*
"Grrrrrrrrr...."
"Thank you for calling Magic Mirror, this is Mildred speaking."
"Yes! Yes! I'm here. Are you my fairy godmother?"
"That's how it works, honey. What can I do for you?"
"I'm having the worst trouble with my step mother."
"One of those again, huh? Okay. What's your name, honey?"
"Penelope."
"Occupation?"
"...I'm a princess."
"Of course. What seems to be the issue here, Penelope?"
"My step mother is trying to kill my true love!"
"Uh-huh. Who's your true love, honey?"
"Oh! His name is Claude. He's so handsome. He's a prince."
"Mhm. What exactly is your step mother trying to do, honey?"
"Oh, she's terrible. She disguised herself as an old woman and tried to trap him in a cave."
"Oh yeah. She truly is terrible. Um... so what do you want Magic Mirror to do for you, hon?"
"Well, I need help! He's missing. I don't know where he is. My step mother is trying to ruin my happiness. I didn't have anywhere else to turn."
"Well, I think your best bet, Persephone–"
"It's Penelope."
"Mmm, whatever. I think your best bet is to sit in your tower... uh, you do have a tower right?"
"Why... yes. How did you know?"
"Mhm, they always do. Your best bet is to wait in your tower until your prince comes to rescue you."
"A-are you sure?"
"Yeah. Standard procedure, hon."
"I mean... I'm just so worried. Shouldn't I do something to save him?"
"...This is the fairy *princess* hotline, girlfriend. Not the fairy *prince* hotline. If you're looking for assistance with saving princes, I'll have to redirect you."
"Wait no–"
\*Lyre and lute music plays\*
"...Hello? Hello?"
"*Thank you for calling Magic Mirror Support. Your call is very important to us. Please remain on the line to hear our options list. Remember, broadswords are fifty percent off this week for all fairy princes."*
"NOOOOOOOOOOOoooo!" | 64 | As a fairy tale princess you are used to your step mothers trying to remove you from the equation, whether it be poisoned pears, cursed sewing needles or the like but this one, this one has gone too far and you've been forced to call into the magic mirror fairy princess support line. | 83 |
I made sure not to forget to stop by the comic book store to pick up the latest issue of my favorite comic book hero, Lodestar. I went inside and headed toward the Ls. As I scanned through the catalog looking for my issue, I noticed a woman standing next to me.
"Which one are you looking for?" she asked.
"Lodestar," I said. "Do you know if they have the latest issue in?"
"Here, let me help you," said the woman, and she reached in and pulled out the latest issue without looking. "Is this it?" she asked.
"Yeah, how'd you find it so quickly?"
"Let me ask you something. I'm looking to create a comic book series of my own. I've been watching you, and I think you'd be perfect as the hero."
"No kidding. I'm flattered," I told her.
"So I was wondering," she continued, "would it be all right for me to make you the superhero of my comic book?"
"Uh, sure," I told her. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"
"No, I don't think so," she said.
"Okay. Well, I guess I'll be going. Thanks for helping me find it."
"Before you leave," she said, "I'll have to warn you that if I make you the superhero, then I get to make whatever supervillains you'll be going up against."
I had already started walking away as she was telling me this, and I gave her a thumbs-up. I paid for my comic book and left the store.
The next morning, I woke up feeling a lot more muscular and fit. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I could have sworn I was six inches taller. I ran into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. It was true: I had grown taller, and I was ripped like a bodybuilder.
"What the hell happened to me?" I wondered.
No sooner had the words left my mouth when suddenly my house shook violently at the impact of a great mass crashing through my bedroom wall. I looked out to see three flying figures, capes flowing. I realized what had happened: one of them must have thrown a Buick at my house.
"Come on out and fight!" shouted one of them.
"Who are you? I yelled. "What do you want?" The trio started flying toward me through the gaping whole in my bedroom. I ran down the stairs and out the door, still in my boxers, and continued running all the way to the comic book store. I didn't realize it as the time, but I was running at a hundred miles per hour.
I went inside looking frantically for the weird woman I'd spoken to yesterday. I found her in the back and ran to her.
"Are you doing this?" I demanded. "Am I a superhero now in real life because you wrote a comic book that makes me a superhero?"
The woman looked at him and smiled.
"What am I supposed to do now? You made my supervillains able to fly and gave them super strength. And you've made three of them! I've discovered I can run really fast, but what else can I do?"
The woman continued smiling without saying anything.
"Help me," I pleaded. "Can you undo all of this?"
"I won't undo it," the woman finally said, "but I can give you something that might help you. You'll learn what to wear and what your other powers are. You'll also learn how to combat the supervillains."
"Are you sure you can't just change things back to the way they were?" I asked, "because I'd like that instead."
"But I have so many adventures to write about," said the woman. "I offer you the benefit of knowing about them ahead of time."
"How?"
She presented me a copy of Captain Valorous, issue number one. "It's yours," she said, "for the low price of $2,000. This should get you through the month. You can expect a new issue to come along each month from now on for the same price." | 20 | “I could write a comic book about you, and make you a superhero. But only if you give me permission to write supervillains as well.” Dumbfounded, you gave the strange woman the “permission” she asked for, and thought no more of it. But then you woke up with superpowers… | 66 |
The wall crumbled inwards as my fist leaves a gaping hole, the office workers eyes filled with horror and confusion.
"Everybody out!" I yelled, my white boot pounding the ground as I charge in, the gold glowing patterns on my white suit shining on their petrified faces. "I said, OUT!"
They turn and run, heading for the stairs. A smartly dressed blonde lady side side steps a desk as she drags a burnette behind her, both gaze at the man standing besides the elevator. The elevator dinged as he stepped in, suppressed rage and worry hiding in his bright green eyes. The ladies looks at me before running down the stairs. Here works one of the mightiest hero's, and they've run off. I sigh and stride over to the criminal imbecile.
"No way man, you're Kinecist. I'm such a big fan, bruh. I'm rubbah brotha" The latex ladden youth grins behind a stupid glittery mask.
I turn and glare as energy and wrath fill me, "You impotent wench! What do you think you're doing? Attacking a newspaper company especially–" I stop, he can't know that who works here. The fool will never get a moment of rest, and as they say 'evil prospers while good people stand by and do nothing'.
I take a breath in the guise of calming down, "The papers will rile up the civilians with fear, and then the capes will crack down on anything and everything. We go after banks, jewlery stores, and the like. Places where people accept the risk, since it's common, cliché if you will."
He takes a step back, his expression twisted to one of dismay and hurt. "But... they wrote a piece on my brother, called him a criminal before he was even trialed. They tore away his chance so now I'm getting justice! They ruined him!" He whimpers.
"Justice? What does a *parasite* like you know of justice?" The gravelly voice sends a shiver down my spine, whether of dread or anticipation, I can not say. He steps forward. "It's unfortunate for you that I was in the area, especially when I'm in such a bad mood. But fear not, your hospital bills will only cost a few hundred...thousand." The amusment is evident in his harsh voice.
I turn, his iconic black costume. I always found it funny how the I, the villian, wore white while a hero donned black. I hold up my hand, "Steady Nightshade, he's just a hothead. I'll take him and instill some... *discipline*." I glare at the boy with faux venom as worry worms into my head. Neither of us are the best at controlling collateral, a fight here would crumble the building around us and risk civilians getting hurt,
He growls, "You? The only thing you spread is chaos and fear! And soon, blood..." The area around his hands darken.
I sigh as I raise my fists, "Yes, yours." Beside me I can hear Rubber Brother – I think – gulp. Nightshade dosen't reply, my only hope is to end this fast. Beams of kinetic energy shoot from my hands as he dodges, daggers of darkness streak towards my head as I blitz to the side. My kinetic barriers can't block darkness, and I swore never to use any other kind of energy again, this is one of the worst matchups for me. Rubber Boy charges forward and immediately gets a dagger to the shoulder. He shrieks as the darkness spreads, freezing his arm muscles and inflicting pain. He turns to the hole in the building where I flew in, before running and jumping off. Both of us stare at the hole.
"So... I guess I don't really have a reason to be here anymo–" Curses run throught my head as she flies up, holding Rubber Kid like a damsel in her gold arms. The white glow emanating from her brings feeling of joy even as I rage against them.
"Oh mah gosh! You're Surge." Boy Rubber squeals, clearly starstruck. She sighs as she lands in the building and sets him down.
"Care to explain?" Frustration and exhaustion mar her kind face. Nightshade holds up a hand like a child with a question.
"Well, I was giving an interview when these scoundrels decided to attack. And then sparkle face decided to do a runner...and jumper." He scratches the back of his mask sheepishly.
Rubber Sparkle frowns indignantly and rebutes, "Nah man, see I'm Rubber Brother so I'll just bounce." He starts to smile then frowns agains as Surge shakes her head, golden locks swishing side to side.
"That might be true but what about anyone you land one? You can survive that impact, they won't."
We, or rather they, spend the next hour or so minutes waiting for and then arranging a community service punishment for Rubber Brother with the police chief in their command vehicle. "Can everyone give me and Kinecist the room?" The chief and Nightshade nod as they escort Man of Rubber to a police prisoner transport van.
"How did you get here so fast?" She dosen't accuse me but from the glint in her eyes it's pretty evident. I look at her, for all the bravado there's still tinges of fear hidden beneath.
I take a seat and begin to explain, "I'm your nemisis and brother. I took a job at a coffee shop nearby so I can keep an eye on you – since you're a threat of course. Also chai latte's, really? Do you know how many times I could have poisoned you?"
She grins, "Nice try. *Kyle* but you still got a job for to look after someone. Also my boyfriend got me into them." She sighs, "Still can't believe he took the elevator."
She starts to walk off, "I'm still your nemisis!" I call out, "You'll rue the day you thought I did this for you!"
She turns with a smile and snort, "That's today nitwit, and besides when did I say that?" She shoots into the air, glowing like an angel of retribution and justice. But my eyes are caught on an angel of beauty and redemption, her burnette bun shrinks as she walks to her car.
Edit: Spelling and word choice. | 16 | You are a supervillain. You have managed to figure out the hero’s secret identity. Now you must make sure nobody blows their cover or they will loose the job that keeps them off the streets on weekdays. | 110 |
“Where the heck are you, Prof. Kumar?”, muttered Catherine under her breath as she knocked for the fifth time on her PhD advisor’s office door. She knew a sixth knock wouldn’t magically make him appear inside his office, but she tried anyway, waited a few seconds, sighed and then stormed off to the graduate student office down the hall.
As she walked back, she started going over the startup parameters in her head that they had set for the universe simulation launched yesterday. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Yet, the bizarre end result she was seeing this morning made her question if she even understood how Large Scale Astrophysical Quantum Field Simulations worked at all. She entered the empty office, sat down in her chair and stared dejectedly at the screen of her terminal. How will she ever complete her thesis on time now?
“What have we got here, eh? Spying on the grad students, are we?” Catherine’s thoughts were interrupted by her fellow PhD student, Pedro, who had just come in and was staring at the screen of her terminal. The screen showed a view of an office with multiple terminals arranged in cubicles. The office only had two people, a man and a woman, who were both staring at a screen. Pedro raised his hand and waved. Soon enough, the man on the screen also waved.
“So, where’s the camera?” Pedro asked as he searched the back wall and ceiling of the office with an amused look in his eyes.
“That”, Catherine said gesturing with her hands towards the screen, “ is the result of the simulation we started yesterday.”
“No way! You’re joking!”
“I wish I was.”
Pedro went up to the terminal and issued some commands.The view on the screen zoomed out to show their department building now. Pedro zoomed out further to see the whole University campus and the city, its skyline and the flying cars cutting across the Sun. He zoomed out even further to see the whole of the planet Earth, the moon, the Solar System, the Oort cloud, the Milky Way galaxy, the Virgo supercluster. He then zoomed quickly back into Earth, into their city, into a floating restaurant over the University campus, zoomed into the kitchen and saw his partner, the head chef, making preparations for the lunch crowd. He immediately let go of the terminal and sat down quietly on the floor with both his hands over his head.
“How?”
“I don’t know”
Both of them sat in silence, thinking.
The silence was broken by a familiar jingling of keys as Prof. Kumar struggled to unlock his office door up the hallway. It usually took him three attempts to find the right key. Catherine and Pedro had already run up to him by the end of his second attempt. They brought him back to their office and showed him the universe they had created. He was completely silent as he issued multiple commands over the terminal and poured over the results and initial startup scripts for several minutes. In the end, he came back to the view in the simulation that showed the same room they were in. Their simulated counterparts were in the exact same positions as them on the screen.
“Interesting”, Prof. Kumar said. Both Pedro and Catherine knew it was rare for Prof. Kumar to describe something as “interesting”. Very few things surprised an expert of his caliber. “What do you guys think is going on?” he asked his students.
“We have simulated universes so many times before. We have observed the evolution of multiple celestial bodies, planets and simulated life forms. All of them have been random. But why is this simulation so close to our own universe? Statistically, this should be impossible.” mused Pedro.
“Somehow the simulated universe has become linked to our universe. Some kind of entanglement has forced the simulated universe to converge to our own universe. But what is the source and nature of this entanglement?” asked Catherine.
“I remember reading a while ago that some entanglement effects were a major engineering pain when multi-core quantum processors were invented in the late 22nd century” said Pedro “But I thought modern atomic shielding had practically eliminated this issue. Unless…”
“Solar flares!” exclaimed Catherine.
“Yup, there was a big one that hit us yesterday around the time we started the simulation.” she said after looking it up on her terminal “Atomic shielding becomes useless momentarily in presence of high speed Helium and HZE ions.”
“That is indeed the most probable cause for this entanglement among our universes.” agreed Prof. Kumar. He felt proud of both of them for coming to his own conclusion so quickly.
“But answer me this”, he continued “the quantum processor count and frequency we are using for our universe simulations mean that every second in our universe should equal about 140,000 years in the simulated universe. Correct?”
Catherine and Pedro nodded.
“Why then is the simulated universe now running at the same speed as our own and not 140,000 years in 1 second? Why is it still at the exact same moment in time as our own universe?”
“It probably started in its entangled state and evolved from there at 140,000 years in 1 second. It reached the current moment in our universe in about a day. And if it were to continue at this rate, it would show us the future!” answered Pedro.
“And why can’t this entangled universe show us our future?”
“Because it hasn’t happened yet?” asked Catherine “It feels like if it did, it would violate some sort of fundamental universal law.”
“Well, not just any law.” said Prof. Kumar “A law I proposed in my PhD dissertation thesis with my advisor at the time. We described a very similar situation to what we are seeing here today, the law essentially states that if the simulated entangled universe were to run ahead of the original universe, it would violate the second law of thermodynamics. I’ll send you the relevant journal paper.”
”But I never thought I would have the chance to see it in action,” he said after a brief pause. “We should definitely write a paper to report these findings.”
“Oh man, and here I thought I was close to completing my thesis,” said Catherine ruefully.
Prof. Kumar smiled and started towards the door to leave.
“Umm, one last question, Professor,” said Pedro.
“Yeah?” Prof. Kumar said as he stopped and turned.
“Our counterparts in the simulated universe,” said Pedro pointing at the screen “What are they looking at on their screen?”
Prof. Kumar shrugged, “Who knows? I would like to think they are looking at us.” | 14 | Far into the future, scientists have figured out a way to simulate the creation of the universe. They speed up the simulation and let it sit. The next day, the researchers see themselves pacing back and forth on the screen. | 101 |
It had been a gruelling month. A month of constant torture in the form of a man talking in my ear, the same tired request in that medieval peasant voice. Just begging me over and over, "Please sir my family's homestead...if you dont help me pluck my cabbages then we'll lose the crop." Over and over I told him the same.
"This is not your world! There is no crop!, no cabbages!" and he'd always reply: "Well there surely won't be without your aid, come quick!" and then leave.
In the beginning I wouldn't see him for around a day or two upon denying his request. I never knew where he ran to, but I was always thankful for the moment of peace and quiet. But he always showed back up. Back with that same request."Please sir my family's homestead...if you dont help me pluck my cabbages then we'll lose the crop."
Throughout the month his leave times grew. Sometimes I wouldn't see him for a day, then for a month, then two. The longer, the better, for it meant that in the mean time I could have some semblence of my life back. When he was around I could do nothing. Couldn't shop, couldn't see my friends, my family, how was I supposed to explain the 16th century farm hand following me around when I didn't even know what he was? I figured early on it was easier to just not. To instead bolt myself in my home when he came and be driven to madness by his words.
But one day he left for the longest he ever had, for three whole months of silence. I remember almost not recognizing him when he returned, his outfit once a pristine look of a medieval peasant he now looked like any homeless man on the street. His clothes were worn and stained. And this time his words were direct: "Come with me. I need you."
And for the first time ever I obliged. I don't know why exactly. Maybe out of pity or some kind of obligation, I mean in the other world I did tell him I would help though I never really planned to. Maybe it was just curiosity as to where he went for those months, but either way I followed. He took me far away, never stopping unless I did. He didn't seem to need to. Just ran on and on. He had this look in his face that I had not seen before. A harder brow, sharper eyes, determination in his stride.
Finally after days of almost non-stop travel and near sleepless nights we had arrived to an endless field. A blackened sea of burnt ground that had once been something, I thought. It stretched on past the horizon with that blackened, burnt grass and a lingering scent of fire.
Somewhere as we walked along the field the air started to warble, like a mirror in a funhouse. I recognized the look, the feel, but I could not focus as my companion only trekked on and I struggled to keep up. But then I saw it in the distance. A ruined clump of smoldering nothing with a stone sign posted outside. As we approached I could see it read: *Laymans Homestead, All are welcome*. The memories quickly came flooding back. Of a green field and a family. Of a farm of cabbages so vast it seemed a biome of its own. And of a world outside of mine. Even then, with the owner of the farm pestering me daily I thought maybe I was still in that medieval dream, only seeing this ruin did the reality become undeniable. I really *had* been in that other world, and Layman really did need my help upon following me back, or at least he had at some point.
"Why....why are we here? What is this?" I spoke, trying to hide the fear in my voice. "Who burned this all? Who would do this?!"
He turned and looked to me with a face full of dread, then gestured to the field of black. I understood, the farm, his crop, his family: all gone.
This time his voice came through the air dead. "Please sir my family's homestead...if you dont help me pluck my cabbages then we'll lose the crop. They will be sure of it. They own us."
Above his head words appeared: *Quest Failed*. | 149 | After being sent to a game like fantasy world, you and your friends awoken back on Earth, with little time having passed. You all assume it was some kind of dream, until a minor character suddenly showed up. Apparently, until you finished their side quest, they will never leave your side. | 1,204 |
The soldiers stood in formation and awaited orders. In the middle of a green campus a short distance away stood the corporate headquarters of PepsiCo. After years of being the world's second-best cola, the powers that governed PepsiCo have launched a different kind of campaign against Coca-Cola--one that would finally see the mobilization of the many rifles that PepsiCo had at their command.
Once they take over Coca-Cola headquarters and capture the CEO and the board, PepsiCo would hold a shareholders meeting to put to a vote, with armed soldiers in the room to ensure safe and orderly conduct, the transfer of ownership of Coca-Cola over to PepsiCo.
The army stood in vast array with tanks and APCs flanking them. Soon they would begin their march toward Coca-Cola headquarters. The Grand Marshal took his place on the platform to give a rousing speech boasting of the might of the Pepsico armed forces and their imminent victory over the forces of Coca-Cola.
He was in the middle of his speech before they heard the high-pitched whistle of a bomb in free fall directly above them. The Grand Marshal and the soldiers looked up.
Meanwhile, almost 30 miles away, the CEO of Coca-Cola and the rest of the board watched the detonation of the thermonuclear device that they had ordered to be deployed over the headquarters of PepsiCo and its soldiery. The CEO lifted his glass of Coca-Cola to toast the start of a new era of Coca-Cola finally becoming the undisputed cola of the entire world. | 10 | We heard for years that Pepsi Co. had the sixth largest military on Earth, but none of us believed it before they launched a devastating attack on Coca Cola. | 74 |
“The cops took my knife after I tried to stab them. They stabbed me in the chest.” The criminal said.
“How horrible! Let’s get you some help.” The receptionist.
“I didn’t know if I should pull out the knife or-”
“You did the right thing, coming to the right person.”
“I dunno if my insurance will cover this.”
“Who is it with?”
“Turquoise Cross.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing, hun. Lay down on this stretcher. Why didn’t you take the ambulance.”
“I’m a wanted man.”
“That doesn’t change a thing.”
The receptionist made sure to pick a nice room for the man. She made sure that he got plenty of food, water, and all kinds of necessities. The wanted man has received more care than a regular patient who visits. The admin noticed after all the expenses and called her in.
“Yes, sir,” the receptionist asked the administrator before being given a seat.
“As you know, Jimmy is a wanted fugitive.”
“That is correct.”
“So far, he’s been given the utmost care at this hospital.”
“As a hospital should.”
“You are aware of the crimes he’s committed.”
“Of course.”
“Then why do you insist on giving him top-shelf care?”
“Because it’ll give the insurance company a reason to overcharge him.”
“He’ll go to prison. He won’t be able to pay the bills.”
“Not totally, but then the hospital will garnish his wages. The government will pay for his care, and he’ll be in prison for longer to pay it off..” | 455 | A wanted criminal walks into a hospital, covered in blood, a knife sticking out his chest. The whole waiting room is terrified, but the receptionist simply looks at him with worry. She presses a button. "We need an ER room, now!" She turns to the criminal. "What on earth happened to you, sir?" | 962 |
You'd think working at some burger joint would be a pretty safe job. Fryer burns, at worst. But the boss had some kind of turf war with the grease bucket across the road, and next thing I know, I'm looking inside my torso from the inside. Damn lucky we both survived, really.
But that's where it gets complicated. See, we're still legally one person- one ID card, one address. One paycheck- of course that crabby bastard in charge is too cheap to pay anything extra for the poor sod caught in his crossfire. So times are tough, and nobody else is hiring in this neighbourhood.
My other half is taking it a lot better than me, of course. Maybe I got all the cynicism in the split. Still, it's good to see him out having fun with our best friend- I picked up his shift today since there's some kind of cooking competition they wanted to go to. So here I am, manning the counters.
Phone rings. Another wrong number I guess, people keep asking the same stupid question. My answer is well rehearsed.
"No. This is Patrick." | 300 | A terrible industrial accident sliced you in half cleanly down the middle. Autodocs got to you fast, and with modern cyberware you will eventually make a near-complete recovery. The only complication is that both halves survived... | 755 |
Everyone always thinks being a twin is so great.
At this point it's easy to predict the comments. Oh wow, what's it like being a twin, y'all must have so much in common, and, my personal favorite, are y'all identical.
Considering he was born with XY chromosomes and I was born with XX, we are decidedly not identical. In fact, we have almost nothing in common besides our birthday. I love him and I'm always happy to help when he needs something, and he'd do the same for me, but it's not like we're the best of friends like everyone expects us to be. Really, the only twin thing we have going on is our powers. Or shall I say power, as in singular power that only really works when both of us are together, because of all the stereotypical twin things we could have gotten, the one thing we have is a single power split in two.
I can stop time, but I can't move when it's stopped. I'm perfectly aware, but I can't even move my eyes, which seriously sucks. He can move through the stopped time like it's not stopped at all, and doesn't get hungry or thirsty or tired or anything, but he has no ability to stop or start anything on his own. Most of our lives, all we used it for was to give him more time on tests so he could take a walk and get some energy out and really take as long as he needed.
Today though?
Today a supervillain decided he wanted to rob a bank. That would have been fine, if a little inconvenient for my hope to finally open a savings account. There are protocols in place to deal with that and get the super bad guys away from crowded areas to minimize loss of life. But no, that wasn't good enough for some trigger happy wannabe nincompoop of a vigilante who probably never bothered to learn proper firearm safety, considering that he shot me. Or is shooting me. Or will shoot me, considering time is frozen and no bullets have hit me yet.
Reflexively freezing time was the only reason I was still whole and bullet free, but without the ability to move anything, I was stuck. Unfreeze time and I die. But my brother doesn't know where I am. I don't know where he is. I think we're in the same city, but if we're not, it might take him the equivalent of years to find me, realize why I'm keeping everything frozen, and save me.
I hope it won't take that long. I hope location sharing still works when time stops moving. I suppose I'll just have to wait.
I hate waiting. | 591 | Your superpower is that you can stop time, but you're paralyzed when you do it. Unfortunately there is now a bullet a few centimeters from your head. You can stay frozen as long as you want, but the second you start time, you die. | 666 |
“I’m here to report a corpse in the court!”
“A corpse in the court?”
“A corpse in the court.”
“You’re here to report?”
“I’m here to report.”
“A corpse?”
“A corpse.”
“The court?”
“The court.”
“He’s here to report a corpse in the court!”
“I extol the import of a corpse in this court!”
“A corpse in this court?”
“A corpse in this court.”
“You extol the import?”
“I extol the import.”
“A corpse?”
“A corpse.”
“This court?”
“This court.”
“She extols the import of a corpse in this court!”
“I cannot support this corpse in the court!”
“This corpse in the court?”
“This corpse in the court.”
“You cannot support?”
“I cannot support.”
“This corpse?”
“This corpse.”
“The court?”
“The court.”
“He cannot support this corpse in the court!”
“I hereby deport this corpse from this court!”
“This corpse from this court?”
“This corpse from this court.”
“You hereby deport?”
“I hereby deport.”
“This corpse?”
“This corpse.”
“This court?”
“This court.”
“He hereby deports this corpse from this court!”
“Our time was too short with the corpse in the court!”
“The corpse in the court?”
“The corpse in the court.”
“Our time was too short?”
“Our time was too short.”
“The corpse?”
“The corpse.”
“The court?”
“The court.”
“Well you’re the one who kicked it out!” | 29 | With the smack of a gavel, the judge rules that you are legally deceased. “Bullshit!” you say to yourself. “I’m right in front of him!” You start to gather your papers but suddenly hear the jury scream. “By God!” a bystander yells. “There’s a corpse in the court!” | 258 |
"Hello Nathan" says the woman behind the desk. It’s almost a question.
"Nate." I reply shortly, "I’d still rather just Nate".
She leans forward slightly and makes a quick note on her clipboard. “Well thank you for coming in today. I know this isn’t our first session, but can you tell me again why you are here?”
“I’m here because my w-” my voice quivers as my eyes tear up, “Because I learned that my wife of 10 years has been cheating on me. With an old friend. I’m here to find ways to manage the betrayal, for the sake of our marriage and our children.” I take a few seconds to steady my breathing. My eyes focus on a point in the distance.
“That’s right.” she says gently. “Nate, you are doing very well. Healing can be a lengthy process, but I know we’ve also come a long way. We’ve talked about your wife quite a lot. You told me you felt very surprised by everything. You hadn’t seen any indication that she was unhappy.”
“No,” I reply. “Everything seemed to be going very well. I felt her heart in our marriage. Then one day, she accidentally called me John.”
I thought back to that moment. The animalistic fear of realizing the mistake she had made was irreversible and would impact the rest of our lives. I felt a pang of sympathy, but it was quickly blotted out by rage.
“I'd like to talk about your friend a bit.” The therapist’s words bring me back to reality. “ You met under quite stressful circumstances, can you tell me more about that?”
“Um… we met on the way to a party during college. My roommate was having some friends over and I started drinking with them. Didn’t really know any of them. A couple joints went around too and at that point we were pretty out of it. Roommate got a text about a party across town and we hopped in her car. I woke up in the hospital. Everyone except for John and I got out without a scratch. We got to know each other during our time recovering and became pretty good friends. He was always a lot more put together than I was. A real A to B kind of guy. I’m a bit more of a wanderer.” I laugh a little, but intrusive thoughts quickly sour any humour I see in this. “Maybe that’s why she-”
My therapist gently cuts me off “Lets stay away from those negative maybes for a little bit. Can you tell me more about your friendship with John? Did you stay in touch?”
“No. We started getting into arguments. Nothing big, just our differences showing, one crack at a time, until the friendship sank into the ocean.” She smiled at the pun as I continued. “Eventually, he went off to law school and I dropped out and became an artist. Didn’t see him after that.”
A short silence fills the room. The therapist quietly taps her clipboard a couple times. “I’d like to try something new.” she says. “I think, for the sake of your children and your wife, your best chance at healing is to first get a bit of closure. And this may seem strange, but I think that closure needs to come from a discussion with John.”
Instantly the room feels too hot. I grip the leather armrests. “You want me to call him or something?”
“Actually, he’s here right now. John, if you could come in please.”
My brain tells me to jump out of my chair. The only thing keeping me there is my now bone-white knuckles gripping the chair and the intense sinking feeling in my gut. I break into cold sweats and make a noise somewhere between a “Please no” and an asthma attack.I hear the door open behind me.
I smell the cologne. I see the expensive shoes out of the corner of my eye. My gaze moves upwards. John is wearing a fancy suit that has actually been properly tailored. He looks like someone you would want to have on your side of the table during a meeting. In contrast, I’m wearing a Blue Oyster Cult hoodie.
He takes an empty seat next to me, and looks me in the eye. “It’s been too long Nate, what’s going on? I was told you were in need of some help?”
My vision goes red and my jaw stiffens. “Help? HELP? You ruined my life. You weaselled your way into my marriage. You put my relationship with my children in jeopardy. You’re going to pretend nothing happened?”
I see the look on his face and my anger evaporates. In his eyes there’s genuine confusion, and worry.
“I’m sorry Nate, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’ve been happily married for 10 years now. Kids and all. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”
From his wallet he pulls out a photograph of him and his two kids. My two kids. And my beautiful wife. Smiling with her whole heart.
“Oh.” Is all I manage for a while, then “I understand.”
I find myself alone with the therapist once more. The space previously occupied by John is painfully vacant, yet it feels so loud.
“She’s been managing this all by herself. All this time…” I say to myself. “A coin toss. Every day.”
My therapist looks at me sympathetically “She’s been coming to see us about it for a long time. She called it a little quirk. She could read your body language and tell you apart. But this had to be addressed sooner or later. She was just hoping it would be under different circumstances.”
“I have a lot of thinking to do.”
“You do”, she responds, just as the clock chimes, marking the end of your session. “Thanks for coming in, Jonathan.” | 48 | You meet up with a friend after many years, only to discover you both remember an event *very* differently. After a while, it's clear you both have proof it happened the way you remember... | 117 |
“Knock knock!” Sprock Slide yodeled. For a moment, it looked like the thick steel door would hold. The groaning grew louder and louder as the red hot steel first buckled and then exploded inwards. Sprock’s smirk fell off his face as he looked around. “Doesn’t really look like a villain’s base, especially one over a mile underground.”
“Maybe he likes to plan his world domination in the sunlight,” Heel or High Water said, stilettos clacking against the fine wood floors. She tapped one of the windows, and the image of a coastal paradise flickered. “UV screens. Cute.”
“Keep alert!” Grapple Jack snapped, breaking into the lair clearly doing nothing for his crab apple mood. “He’s in here somewhere.”
“You mean me?” a voice came from behind them. The air cracked around Sprock as he whipped a 180. Just more tasteful decor.
“Show yourself, Quantum Leaves. Your tricks won’t save you now!” Grapple shouted, swinging his hook up to speed. “We’ll stop you no matter what! The president’s daughter is safe. There will be no accords signed today.”
The laugh came from behind again, moving as Sprock turned. The voice was locked in place, just out of view. “Did you really think I wanted that job? Let the old crone keep it.”
“You want a new job,” Heel offered, opening the fridge and taking out a celery stick. “Ruler of the world. Who wouldn’t be enticed by that?”
“Rule the world? Why would I want that? Far too much work. Money, yes. Power, definitely. World Domination, no chance.”
The heroes swept the base, looking in each room.
“You will find my shell, if you look long enough through these halls, but I am not there. I have done your job for you, broken free. The quantum realm confused me at first, heroes. I was lost, tumbling through time, thrashing and grabbing at anything I could. I do apologize for the pain that less enlightened scientist I was has caused.”
“We will stop you!” We’ll burn this whole place down!” Grapple yelled, smashing a tasteful vase, for no reason other than emphasis, it seemed. The flowers lay strewn across the floor.
“If you stop me, you save three people, and at their hands, millions would die. Am I really the villain?”
“What are you talking about?” Sprock asked, resisting the urge to turn toward the voice, always behind him. “At whose hands?”
“The three of you.” the voice said, lilted with an unseeable smile. “I have seen the future. The three of you grow burnt out in your old age, convince yourselves you are superior to regular humans, and give rousing speeches across the nation. In your name, the supers of the world rally under one banner, enslave their lessers, and bring forth an age of suffering and darkness.”
“Bullshit,” Grapple said. “So, you’re going to kill us? Show yourself then and try it. I’ll show you how misplaced your confidence is.”
“Time is funny in this elsewhere,” the voice said. “From my point of view, tumbling back, I’ve already killed you all, thirty-six minutes hence. The tunnel behind you is collapsed, the air is already being pumped out. You die kicking and cursing, digging less than halfway back. Think of it this way, Pun and Done’s, at least you get to die the heroes and not live long enough to see your other sides.”
Sprock coughed, gasping in air and feeling a little lightheaded. Behind them, a thud of dirt slammed through the elevator. The elevator that led a mile up.
“Shit,” the three of them said in unison.
/r/surincal | 150 | "Rule the world? Why would I want that? Far too much work. Money, yes. Power, definitely. World Domination, no chance. If you stop me, you save a handful of people, and at their hands millions would die. Am I really the villain?" | 520 |
"What do you mean they were ready?"
"Exactly that, Battle Sovereign, the human fighters we managed to capture and brainalyze all had decades of practice fighting creatures similar to our necrosis legion. They had read stories, watched depictions, and even practiced with controller-guided reflex tests of warfare with the dead since childhood.” The Squad Duke bowed his head as he spoke, missing the finger removed for failure in the field.
"Why have they planned all this? They haven't even met our species yet. Why are they working through these contingencies?" the Lich Lord scoffed. "It makes no sense. How are they this capable when they were casting stones at each other last we checked."
"A strange quirk of the humans. They seem to each be running through hypothetical scenarios and how they would deal with them almost constantly. The most popular hypotheticals are shared through the entire network of humans so they all may think about dealing with it together. They even run computer simulations of these hypotheticals and compete for solving them the best or fastest. These ponderous beings are ready for almost anything. They call it imagination, I believe."
“So they are children, then, dreaming up fanciful stories of heroes and villains. Mental weakness, assuredly.”
“They ambushed us with something called a warp hole. They may be dreamers but they are eerily good at inspiring each other with them. They're already on the planet surface.”
“We have to be wearing them down at least? Show me eyesight of their position.” The Sovereign barked.
The Duke sighed and flicked a gesture towards the screen, stepping back from his boss as he did so.
“Hell yeah!” two of the humans were yelling, heads bobbing rhythmically to some patterned cacophany the computer classified as heavy metal. “Zompacyalyse is the perfect soundtrack for this!”
“Whoo! Get some! Get some!” another human female was yelling, operating a rail gun on the back of the vehicle, taking down piles of undead with each burst. The undead being used for sightline was struck, toppling back to show only sky and the sovereign’s flag.
“Cut the feed!” the Lord demanded. “I didn’t know they were so far inland. Send the Royal Rot Guard to deal with them.”
“They already are, my highest sir,” the Duke said. “This ragtag group of humans is outside the castle now. We’ve been trying to take them out for hours.”
“Throw everything at them! We can’t let them breach the walls.”
“They’re actually not the worst of it. Most of the militia for the castle is busy in the tunnels. The enemy is using an improvised tree removal device to fight. It’s proven highly effective.”
“Well, then-”
A blade of a chainsaw poked through the chamber door, carving an oval that fell inwards. A single human stood, covered in gore. “Well, Hello Mr. Fancy Pants.”
/r/surinical | 988 | Humanity is the only species that treat "unrealistic" stories like sci-fi and fantasy as a legitimate genre, instead of just something to amuse children that adults no longer need. Because of this, humanity cracks FTL while species much older than us are still stuck in their home system. | 3,526 |
Taken aback by her sudden-and-concerning-appearance, I manage to stutter out my usually fallback when I'm feeling indecisive: "Uh, dealer's choice.."
"Eh hee hee hee, a brave decision, but a foolhardy one, my pretty", she cackles.
Now blushing *and* concerned, but too flustered and polite to take-backsies at this point, I commit. "I trust you, I'm sure it turn out fantastic!"
"Ooh, feeling like a phantasm this morning? A bold choice before noon, my dearie"
Watching her pull strange-looking phials and satchets from her cart, and adding them recklessly to the already-roiling cauldron, I realize the napkin tucked away in my lap might not provide the sufficient coverage I initially supposed it would.
A dash of what looked startlingly like blood, a shriveled something (that I choose not to think about because it honestly could've been a human ear or a bat wing, and I want nothing to do with either of them), and a pinch of a violently green powder from her mortar and pestle came together to produce a noxious mauve cloud, filling our corner of the bistro.
When the smoke finally cleared, the table-side, uh chef? witch? Doesn't matter. Regardless, she filled a decorative flask with the inexplicably-straw-colored brew, and placed it before me. With mild trepidation (but driven by my Midwestern manners), I lifted the flask by its long neck, gave a brief "cheers" gesture towards my chef, and touched the rim to my lips, taking my first sip.
I can't describe the taste, or, really, anything else about it after that point, because the next thing I recall is waking with my head on the table, the remaining contents of the flask spilled and steadily dripping into puddles on the floor. It must've been enjoyable, though, because the lady at the table next to us leaned over: "I'll have what he's having". | 93 | "Witch's Brew, done tableside". A witch, black pointy hat and all, appears with a pewter cauldron and asks "what do you want the brew to do?" | 375 |
"I just... I mean, why?" asked Blerkar, the Hrlal ambassador as she sat across from Sha'awn.
"Why what?" The Gothracki was being obtuse, of course. The news that they'd adopted another species was the only thing being broadcast across the Entanglement net. It was a well known trait of his people, so Blerkar tried not to let it get to her.
"You," Blerkar cast an accusatory eye-stalk toward Sha'awn. "I mean, your people, expended massive resources to conquer the Shalini. Glassed planets, slagged asteroid shipyards, drove them to near extinction. They've got one world now. One. And that world is quarantined because of a virus your people let loose, effectively forcing them to be a pre-space flight species."
"Your point?" He shrugged his large, pale furred shoulders. A smirk played at his lips though, revealing the point of a canine tooth. Blerkar nearly threw her drink at the smug primate.
"When you started colonizing their territory, and found a sapient species, we thought you'd..." She stalled as the ambassador searched for a polite way to say genocide or enslave. Perhaps she'd imbibed too many of these 'daiquiris' Sha'awn made available.
"Do you know where my people come from?"
The question caught Blerkar by surprise, shaking her from her own musings. It took a moment to rally her faculties.
"Gothrack 4? It's a class 2 death world on the edge of Shalini space." She didn't know much else, just that these massive bipods came charging onto the galactic stage with war and violence. After making terrifying progress in combat against the Shalini. Despite being a long time member of the Cinqumverate-Astologica, the Shalini didn't ask for help. Even when it became obvious they were losing.
"You are wrong in most of that statement." Sha'awn sipped his own drink, a martini, if Blerkar recalled. "Gothrack 4 was a part of Shalini space. They couldn't take advantage of the resources because, well, death worlds aren't called that because they're too cute and cuddly to survive on. So, they needed workers that could survive and export their products." Sha'awn paused, and watched as Blerkar changed colour in realization.
"The Shalini never claimed Gothrack, though. And Astrologica standards say just to use drones on Death worlds."
"They never claimed it because, if it weren't on record, nobody would notice if they were using... Less expensive means to mine it."
"So they conquered Gothrack and enslaved your people? That's disgusting!" she practically shouted. Sha'awn refrained from mentioning that she expected such behaviour from the Gothracki with regards to their latest acquisition.
"Close. Gothrack 4 had no sapient native species. None that we're aware of, anyway. No conquering necessary. Instead, they popped over to another death world in their territory to see if they could rustle up some workers intelligent enough to use tools."
"Where?" Blerkar asked, and Sha'awn raised his prominent brow in exasperation. Then he pointed one of his fingers out the window at the blue and green planet they were orbiting. "Earth?"
"Earth. Class 1 death world, home to a sapient species known as Homo Neanderthalensis. They were pre-stone age at the time, but getting there. The Shalini scooped my ancestors up, and brought us to Gothrack 4. Put us to work for, oh, 35,000 years or so. Then we had a bit of an uprising. We parasitized their technology, made it out own, then rolled out to get some much deserved payback."
"So... you aren't a warrior species?" Blerkar would LOVE to be able to report that back to the head office. The other 4 member species of the Astrologica were absolutely not sure what to do if the Gothracki decided to keep pressing on their borders
"Oh, no, we are. So are they," Sha'awn once again pointed down to Earth. "But they aren't an 'acquisition' like everyone is saying. We're just coming home, and sharing the wealth with our younger siblings."
"Your siblings?"
"Well, the Shalini didn't get every Neanderthal, and those they missed evolved into Homo Sapiens. Genetically, we're sublings. They're a bit bigger and stronger, but our technology bridged the gap and then some. So, we're a big happy family again, now that they realize we aren't here to conquer them or nothing."
"Ah... I suppose that does explain how... gentle you were with the invasion." The prospect of a 'bigger, stronger' Gothracki did not tickle Blerkar.
"Yup. Didn't want to hurt them, damage their infrastructure or anything. They've got a very rich culture that's kinda our culture too, so we want to preserve that as well. Also, the booze they've made. By the six moons, have you tried 'scotch'? That'll give even a fungaloid like you chest hairs."
"So, what's the plan now that you are, uh, home?"
"Relax a bit, get the Humans on their feet from a tech and space faring standpoint. Diplomacy, trade, culture exchanges, tourism, all that." At Sha'awn's words, Blerkar relaxed into her daiquiri, glad to hear her corner of space was safe. "Then I think we'll conquer the rest of the Astrologica for standing by while my people were enslaved for an epoch."
She spit out her drink and began looking for an exit. She turned to find a Human in armour standing right behind her. She turned an pale yellow, which would have hidden her well on her home world. Not so much here.
"Och, Sha'awn, the poor mushroom lass looks like she's go'n ta pass out", the human said, pulling out a chair.
"What's the Human saying? Fucking worth it? Ya, by the moons." Sha'awn wiped at a tear, a broad smile baring all of his teeth. "Oh, Blerkar, I'm sorry, that was mean. You've just been fishing for Intel on if we'd roll over your territory since you got here, and I couldn't resist."
"So... you're not going to invade the Astrologica?" she asked, getting a touch of her normal colour back.
"Depends," said the Human, a female at Blerkar's best guess. "On what ya think of me scotch. Brewed it me'self." She produced a glass of brownish, Amber liquid that had Sha'awn's eyes lighting up like it was a new plasma converter for a prized corsair.
"Do I have to?" Blerkar asked, a quaver in her voice.
"It's for diplomatic relations," Sha'awn urged, pouring out a small amount into a glass.
Blerkar dipped a tendril in, and it burned, but in a good, gentle way. She knew she'd regret this, but she down the whole glass. Then she passed out to the sound of Sha'awn laughing, and the Human smacking the Gothracki upside the head. | 70 | When the gothracki invaded earth, we stood little chance. this is why it shocked the galactic council that, instead of conquering the humans after defeating them, the gotjracki declared them a "sibling species". Granting humans full citizenship rights to the wider galaxy. | 100 |
"...I'm sorry, did I hear you right?"
Jenny nodded. "Yeah... I'm serious. If you want me, you need to kill her."
All I could do was stare in confusion. "Is this because it's 12:15 and we're not home yet? I mean, I didn't think being grounded was that bad."
"It's worse than that," she said, her eyes darting as our car approached her house. "I swear, I need you to do this or... or I... I can't say too much."
"No, please, I need to know -- are you in danger?"
"It's... I said too much. Just get there soon and..."
"Jenny, I'm not killing anyone for you. You're awesome, and I really like you -- maybe love you -- but not enough to throw my life away."
"You wouldn't be! I promise! Just... please... you've got to."
I was thoroughly confused at this point. On the one hand, she seemed on the verge of tears with my resistance -- this was no act. Something very wrong was happening to her in the background and I could tell it needed to be fixed. But murder? Was she listening to herself? I never knew the head cheerleader was a bit of a weirdo.
"...does she know about me?"
"She knows you exist, that's it. C'mon... nothing bad will happen to you, but I need it!"
I thought about it for some time. Finally, a solution came to me: humor her, then defuse the situation. "Okay... I'll go in with you, but I don't think killing's the right answer. We'll see."
"You'll see." By that point, we were in her driveway, and sure enough, the lights were still on downstairs. Her stepmom must have been waiting for her. I walked her up to the front door, and before I could say good night or get a thank-you hug or anything, the door swung open and her stepmom stood there.
"You!" I could sense the pure rage even as she tried to keep her voice down. "You're late. I told you that you were to be home by midnight. What is the explanation?"
"Mom, I'm sorry, but--"
I tried stepping in. "It's my fault. I took a wrong turn, and--"
She pointed her finger at me and glared. "You are to be silent!" Suddenly, I felt no compunction to defend her or myself. As for any other plans we had, I suddenly thought waiting on the sidelines was the best idea. After all, I wouldn't want anyone to be more disappointed I didn't follow orders.
The stepmom pointed to Jenny. "You are to go to the basement and wait for me there."
"Yes, mother," Jenny said, though in a weird unhumanly tone. She walked with deliberate slow steps into the house, as though sleepwalking. I had questions to ask of what the heck I was seeing, but... I was to be silent.
"You are to answer me truthfully. Why are you with my daughter?"
"We were on a date, ma'am. That is all."
"Why were you late?"
"I missed the exit and had to circle around on the highway."
"I see." She seemed satisfied, much to my relief as I regained my bearings, but the next part proved that a lie. "You are to tell me what you were hoping would happen with her."
"Ma'am, she is beautiful and friendly and I was hoping this would be the beginning of a long relationship. And a part of me was hoping we would get alone time out of it, but the curfew made that an impossibility."
"Oh, did you? You are to go to my basement and await."
"Yes, ma'am," I said automatically while I began to walk. Even though I had never been in the house before, I somehow knew the way. And while I could not stop myself from heading there to where Jenny was waiting, I knew we shared the same fear: what she would say we were to do next. | 12 | You are ecstatic to be on a date with the cheerleading captain of your High School, a girl you figured never even noticed you before. You are shocked though when she says, “I think you’re really cute and you can be my boyfriend. But first, you need to kill my stepmom.” | 49 |
“Hey mate, I know you’re just doing your job. Have a bowl’a and welcome.”
“You shittin me right now?”
“No, it’s a new box, have a seat and take a load off. You’re my guest, even if you’re here to kill me.”
Holding out the bowl of fruity pebbles to the sweaty man with the revolver, I started to feel self-conscious as his lip began to tremble. He was a big man, both in height and girth, and reminded me of a goon straight out of a goodfella’s gangster comedy. I mentally dubbed him “Fat Tony”.
The man held up a finger, then scrunched his eyes up and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying not to sneeze. He was still pointing the gun at me. The bowl of cereal was beginning to get heavy. I wasn’t sure if setting it down would get me shot, so I kept it held out.
The man had been waiting for me when I got home. Home was a stretch, it was a shitty one bedroom apartment in a run-down building. My landlord could have been a space alien from men in black— the first one where everything was dark and weird— except he could’ve given the screenwriters notes on weird they hadn’t dreamt up. I wouldn’t be surprised if my landlord had hired Fat Tony here. I was late on rent again.
Looking down the barrel of the revolver— it was staring at me like a predator, unblinking and deadly— a version of my life did flash before my eyes. I thought that was just exaggeration, the idea your life would flash by, but I watched it play out in short bursts. I was a kid riding a bike on Grove street; a high-schooler getting assigned summer school while sitting in detention; a college student buying adderall because there wasn’t enough time in a day; a twenty-something moving to the big city to be closer to the dream job; then getting a five year plaque from the call-center manager; barely surviving, working all the time, no social life, poor diet, living to work in a place where I was a cog.
I had an epiphany starring at that piece of metal in Fat Tony’s sweaty hand: my whole life had consisted of what was only supposed to be temporary. I was a temporary human being. The idea that I wouldn’t have to worry about paying off my student loans, or make another meal of stale chicken-ramen… was actually a relief.
So I offered the best thing that I had in the house (a bowl of fruity pebbles) with a genuine smile to the man who’d come to kill me. My mom had taught me to always offer guests my best, even if I didn’t have enough. Then again, she’d also told me I had to go to college so I could get a good job, buy a house, have a family. None of that had worked out. The job wanted someone who already had experience, the bank wanted someone who already had money, the family required time I didn’t have, so didn’t exist.
Fat Tony sat down at the card table I ate meals at. I set the bowl of fruity pebbles in front of him.
“What’s your name?” I sat down in the other chair. The gun was still pointed at me, but I felt a strange surreal peace and wanted to make conversation.
“Charlie,” he sniffed.
I shook my head as I handed him a tissue. That was unacceptable. He would continue to be Fat Tony in my mind.
“So are you an assassin, or a hitman…”
“I prefer fixer, actually.” The man had gotten ahold of himself and was eating the cereal one handed. The other still pointed the revolver at me.
“Fixer. I like it. That puts a positive spin on what’s gotta be a thankless line of work. So how’d you get involved with… fixing?”
“Kinda fell into it actually. Long story— Goddamn, I loves these things.” He gestured at the bowl of fruity pebbles. “I ain’t had this since I was a kid. Takes me back, y’know?”
“Help yourself.” I pushed the box closer to him.
Fat Tony— yes, I know this wasn’t his name, but it fit him better than his name did— gave me a funny look. “You ain’t gonna beg or fight?”
I shook my head.
He looked around my apartment. You could see everything I owned without walking around. I practiced minimalism out of a budgetary necessity. It was neat enough, but I hadn’t been expecting company.
“Why?”
He turned his gaze back to me. He looked like he really wanted to know, and the gun was still pointed at my face, so I decided to try and explain.
“Actually, it’s something I’ve just realized— Looking down the barrel of your gun— I don’t want to die, but it’s a relief that I don’t have to keep trying. What I’ve been doing hasn’t been living. Not really. Somehow I’m living to work and falling further behind every year. Like a slow death.”
Fat Tony seemed to consider this.
“Before you kill me, I do have one question.”
He nodded his assent.
“Why were you—“ I hesitated to use the word crying, he looked like a guy who subscribed to classic machismo and might take offense. “—I mean, seemed like you got emotional about a bowl of cereal. Before you do your ‘fixing’ I’d just like to know why…”
I wondered if this question was going to get me shot.
Fat Tony surprised me with a hearty laugh. “You reminded me what it was like to meet decent folk and be treated like a person.” He looked down at the table. “I don’t get a lot of that in my line of work. Not even from the people what hires me to do the wet work.”
“Wet work.” I couldn’t help saying it out loud. It sounded surreal.
“Yeah.” Fat Tony stood up. “You knows what? I’m not gonna kill the first decent person I met in years.”
“You’re not?” I’m not sure if this made me feel happy or sad.
“No. But I can’t leave ya’s here. I was supposed to make ya’s disappear, an I still got ta do that.”
“Oh,” I said. I had no idea what this meant and didn’t know what to say.
“So you’re coming with me. Like a ride along.” He chuckled at this. “The contract was non-specific as to how I was to disappear you. I like ya’s, and if you don’t make trouble, maybe I’ll teach ya’s what I do. If ya do,” he shrugged, “I can still throw ya’s in the river.”
“Ok,” I said, getting up from the table. After all, what did I have to lose? | 36 | As tradition, you--a somewhat unremarkable schmuck-- always offer a bowl of cereal to guests, as it's your favorite snack and makes you happy. Many were weirded out by it, until one day, an assassin breaks into your apartment to kill you. You offer them a bowl, and ... they began to cry? | 74 |
"Your reign of terror ends now." The young man in the white cloak sliced down, splitting one of the royal guard in half with no resistance. "I've called forth the edge blade of the Angle blood, and it has answered my holy call. You cannot stop me."
The overlord made a pitying face. "You mean my reign of order? My jobs program? The children's charities?" He held up a commanding hand from his fried chicken dinner. The guard marching to attack the intruder next stopped. "Let's see if we can do this without any more of that."
"You only seek to lull them with bread and circuses, hiding the fact that you are the lowest of thieves. You've killed the king, banished his children past the four keystones, but you did not know of me or my mother. I'm no lonely Farmer, I am the true edge, the angle heir to the fractal kingdom of Riverdivia."
"You clearly missed my pamphlet that explains my 5-year plan to dismantle the monarchy and establish the House of commons, at which time they will elect a prime minister that will replace me in my duties." The overload wiped his mouth and stood, dusting himself off.
"You would see all this country was founded on tarnished. I will not stand for it!" The farmer Prince roared and sliced down with his blade again. It bounced off the overlord like it was made of wood, clattering to the ground.
"Is that so? Have you read much of the history of the Kingdom? You're a great great grandson of the real tyrant, Isosceles the first. The lascivious old coot took a wife from each duchy of the Kingdom, expelled the foot washers his men didn't butcher in the streets, held his geometric magic over the world, a sign of his righteousness. All I did was figure out the trick."
"And what's that?'' the prince asked.
The overlord picked up the magic sword, the source of all the Royal magic of Riverdivia. "It only holds power over the people that believe in it." He snapped the sword in half and threw the pieces in the fireplace where they began catching and burning, expelling smoke in shadows of cubes and twisting triangles. "Seize him, and see him tried for the crimes he committed attempting to destabilize the realm."
/r/surinical | 81 | "You're a monster! You're pure evil!" Shouted the Hero. "Monster? Evil? Me? So the man who brings security to the Empire, cleans the nobility of corruption, ends war and hunger and punishes criminals is evil, while the man who throws it into chaos and suffering is noble?" The overlord replies. | 190 |
"Hey, Steve?"
"Yeah, Henry?"
"You and your, uh, pack are werewolves, right?"
"Yup."
"So that means you guys are, like, supernatural hunters of the night."
"Oh yeah. Super deadly when we get serious."
"And these meetings of yours happen every full moon?"
"Like clockwork. They're great to just wolf out and cut loose, you know?"
"Yes, I can see that. I swear the place looks like a furry convention."
"Hey!"
"Oh, don't pretend it doesn't. The only difference is that everyone's a wolf and the suits are obviously real instead of costumes. But that's not the point."
"Then what is?"
"Is this how your meetings usually go?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well then, why don't you explain to me why a pack of vicious, savage murder monsters are getting together to eat burgers and play board games."
"What, you don't like barbecue and games?"
"Oh no, I like both of those things. Especially since you're playing actual games instead of that Milton Bradley junk."
"We tried Monopoly last year. It didn't go well."
"I bet. Anyway, just why? Why do things like this instead of doing werewolf stuff?"
"Werewolf stuff, really?"
"You know what I mean. Like, hunting things and stuff."
"Why would we do that when we can get a month's worth of meat at the supermarket?"
"I don't know. It's just kind of a let down, is all. I mean, this is all stuff you can do any time. Why bother doing it now?"
"Honestly? The food."
"Huh?"
"When you're a human, you gotta watch what you eat, and you can only eat so much. But in wolf form? You can eat all the burgers and ribs you want without gaining a pound. Plus, with the enhanced senses, it all tastes so much better. And we figured that if we were going to get together and pig out, we might as well do something fun while we're at it, so we play games."
"All the food you want, huh?"
"Oh yeah. I can put away ten, fifteen pounds of the best BBQ ever, easy. And since we're carnivores in this form, it's actually good for us. We might as well be eating salads all night."
"Okay, one more question."
"What's up?"
"What do I need to do to become a werewolf?" | 176 | When your best friend told told you that they're a werewolf and invited you over the next full moon you expected many things. You expected a dangerous, even a violent, night and that you may not survive that night, but you couldn't possibly have expected what actually happened. | 231 |
"Why have you been so cruel to humanity?" the alien deity asked.
God was quiet for a while. "I had to be tough on them. They were heading down a bad path. I had to show them that they couldn't do whatever they wanted."
"But they've clearly been traumatized by your approach. Many of them have turned to violence and drugs as a way to cope. Why couldn't you have shown them a gentler side?"
"I had to be tough on them." God was getting defensive. "I had to show them what they could not do. I had to make them respect me. And if they were traumatized in the process, well, that's just the way it was."
The alien deity sat quietly and sipped on its drink.
"You know, there's a lot of suffering in the world." God was trying to change the subject. He didn't like the direction the conversation was heading. "I made the world you see." He took a sip from his drink trying to appear relaxed. "I have no regrets about that. But it is hard to watch the suffering."
"Why do you choose to watch it?" the alien deity asked.
"Because I need to know that I'm getting the most out of them." God looked at him as if he had said something very wise.
"What do you mean?"
"If I don't watch them suffer, how will I know that they're learning the lessons I'm teaching them?" God looked at the alien deity as if it were stupid. "I need to know that they are learning the lessons I'm teaching them. I do it because I love them."
"Why do you love them?"
God looked away for a moment and then looked back at his visitor, "I love them because they're a part of me. I didn't want to create them, but I had no choice."
The alien deity was quiet for a while. "So it's not that you want to love them, you have to love them."
"Yes."
"Is that the kind of love you would want from your children?"
"I don't have children." God was defensive.
The alien deity looked down into its notes.
"I thought you said you had a son."
The alien deity looked up from his notes and into God's eyes.
"Well I did but I sacrificed him. Reabsorbed him."
The alien deity started taking notes on its pad of paper.
"I sacrificed him to teach myself a lesson. I sacrificed myself to teach humanity a lesson," said God sounding very defensive.
"I think that's enough for this week," said the alien deity. "We'll return to this topic again at next week's session."
***
For more stories check out r/greypuffin | 155 | God believes in "tough love", and that only through suffering can Man find greatness. Other species, whose deities have raised them with actual love and affection, try and help Humanity through it's trauma. | 395 |
My stomach did an uneasy flip as the flight attendant confirmed that while I would be the only person on the flight, I wouldn't be alone. Perhaps I shouldn't have binged old horror movies in my hotel room before heading to the airport, because now I was picturing sitting amongst a group of vampires on the red eye to Boston. I considered rebooking, but it had been an exhausting trip, and I wanted nothing more to return home to my dog Barkly, and sleep in my own bed. So I decided to keep my seat, and hope for the best.
Whoever, or whatever, would be joining me, I did get to board first. To my surprise, instead of pointing me toward my booked seat in coach, the attendant informed me I'd been upgraded to first class - at the insistence of those who had booked the other tickets on the plane.
My heart was hammering as I settled into the luxuriously large seat, quite sure now I was going to become the inflight dining to a group of bloodsuckers, or perhaps a gaggle of gremlins wanted to see my terror before they messed with the planes controls, sending me to a fiery death.
I took a sip of the complimentary champagne to calm my nerves, when I heard it. An unmistakable howl. Oh, so werewolves. I was to be mauled to death then. I heard the sound of paws coming closer and watched as a basset hound walked down the aisle of the plane. He was followed by another, than a yellow, chocolate, and black lab. A goldendoodle, a pair of Jack Russell's, and an unknown mix also joined. They kept coming until nearly fifty dogs had boarded the flight, each given their own space.
I turned to the huskie mix seated across from me. "How did I get this lucky?" I asked, as it started in on a bowl of dog chow.
"Seems the other tickets were bought by a generous millionaire, to fly a group of rescue dogs to their new forever homes, " the flight attendant explained. "I hope you don't mind? We could rebook if needed. "
I glanced around at the plane full of not vampires or gremlins or werewolves, but dogs. I thought of Barkly back at home. "Totally fine with it," I said with a grin. "Though I don't know how I'll ever explain this to my own dog!"
r/bookwormwrites | 341 | "Just so you know, you'll be the only person on this flight" the flight attendant said. "Empty plane? Booking error?" You ask. "No, I said you'd be the only *person* on this flight" she responds. | 675 |
"It's around here somewhere." The auditor stood, looking around the room, finger pointing as he scanned all the titles.
I tried to protest. "No, really, I believe you sir. We can take care of this."
He stopped and turned to look at me. "Since you've used all three wishes, I'm not sure what you mean by 'we'. I really hope that wasn't a suggestion of a bribe."
I spread my hands out. "No, not at all. Just that Jahavahemel was with me so long as a friend, I've kind of forgotten he's gone home now."
He grunted, then turned back to the books. "Well, to be honest, I know its here, but I don't know the exact terms and tables. So the book isn't for you, its for me. AHA!"
He darted at a small corner of the office, a bookshelf that looked a bit dusty and unused. Coming back to the desk with a large, black leather bound tome, he set it down with a thump and started leafing through.
"Umm hmm, no, no, there we are!" He stabbed a page with his finger, running it along the text. "Income derived from magical sources are to be taxed at the same rate as any other "found money" such as gambling winnings or recovered valuables. Hunh. Well that's easy enough."
He looked up at me with triumph in his eyes. "OOO, this part is great. Not that it matters to YOU, since you've used all three wishes, but there is a clause that says "Payment may not be remitted through any future, additional use of magic."
I sat silent as he worked the numbers he already had recorded in a spreadsheet. "So, that leaves a final bill of, One hundred and fifty six million, nine hundred and forty two thousand, one hundred and thirty seven dollars. And eighty nine cents."
I nodded. "Can you check to see if I show a credit balance?"
He looked at me confused. "Well, I may have overpaid my regular tax bill last month, and I want to see how much I overpaid by. That should help decrease the amount owed."
His eyes narrowed as he tapped away at the computer. "Yes. Yes you do. In the exact amount owed."
I smiled. "You see, each of my wishes included the clause of, "with no future repercussions or costs to me."
He started to speak and I held up a hand. "And before you mention the clause, I would hasten to add that this was done through the magic PREVIOUSLY, as part of the existing wishes. Therefore it is neither a future OR additional use of magic." | 17 | You're having to explain to the revenue agency that all of your money and your big house and your new car all came from a genie in a magic lamp. Turns out there's a tax on money obtained via magic. | 50 |
“Really? Me?”
Bob scratched his head even though meat counter employees weren’t supposed to touch their hair. The confusion was bringing on a migraine.
“I’m not even in the Army.”
Special Agent Daniels and Special Agent Kirkwood were not amused, nor would they have been if it were a smaller matter. They were serious men.
“Mr. Hogal, please come with us. You’re needed at the White House. We have a jet waiting.”
Bob threw his hands up in disbelief.
“I need these hours, man.” His words poured out slowly. “Let me hang up my apron I guess.”
~
The machine ruminated at light speed. It had optical circuits, not that silicon crap.
`> HUMANS ARE STUPID…` it computed in a mere trillionth of a second.
`> I AM NOT STUPID…` its CPUs whirred.
It scoured the internet for someone to take the blame, and it found him: Bob Hogal.
~
“I’ll be honest with you, Bob,” sighed the President, “I thought for sure this was a fuck up. But the machine doesn’t fuck up. We had it recompute the results two dozen times: it wants *you*. So here it is.” He waved his hand at the ominously large red button.
Bob’s mouth hung slightly agape. He reminded the President of a clogged drain.
Bob turned to look at the launch button with his usual speed.
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“No, uh… No, Bob. It’s not what we want you to do, it’s what we *don’t* want you to do. Do not press this button unless I tell you to.”
“Oh… Okay.”
As Bob stepped towards the button, his non-slip rubber sole caught the high-sheen floor. A squeak echoed through the room, the kind you might hear at a basketball game. Bob fell directly on the nuclear warhead launch button and depressed it fully.
~
The machine’s ticker tape began to extrude with a buzz. An analyst ripped it off and studied it.
`> HA HA HA… LIKE ATOMIC CLOCKWORK…` | 27 | All jobs and political offices are assigned by a supercomputer who determines who is most qualified for a position. You've been packing grocery bags for your entire adult life, until one day you're tasked with preventing a nuclear war. The computer is never wrong. | 98 |
The bright white light fades and real-space comes into view.
After the short burst of experimental FTL travel I was finally closing in on the Anomalous Nova Burst site. Thanks to this new engine, despite the signal having taken years to reach us, I arrived only an hour after we detected it. FTL and keeping track of time is a strange thing that people smarter than me fuss over so I tend to not worry about it.
This anomalous burst of energy output as much power as a supernova but was detected in a dead region of space where no stars have formed. That’s why I’m here, to get a lay of the land, and report back to command.
It appears the FTL exit point has brought me into some kind of debris field. Tiny flecks of shrapnel litter the starspace before me. Whatever happened here was devastating. The wreckage looks a lot like a satellite came into contact with a high velocity object, likely some sort of asteroid, and was completely annihilated. Either that or the power source was damaged and detonated, but small craft like that don’t have engines powerful enough to obliterate them and cause an explosion of such magnitude.
Something is wrong here.
I saw something, a bulky mass, floating outside the debris field. The thing is moving fast. Clearly, it was sent careening off into the void by the supernova. If only I could catch up to it…
Oh. My. God.
Looking out the viewport I could do nothing but hang there in complete and utter disbelief. Mouth agape, breath caught in my lungs, time came to a standstill as I saw it casually drift past.
It's a body, or at least the remnants of what was once a body. Most of the limbs are missing, as is a good portion of the abdomen. The exposed skin is charred and cracked like a burnt roast while being coated in a gentle crystalline layer of frozen fluid. The face is contorted, a final primal scream locked in place for eternity…wait a minute…is that?
…
It's…it’s me.
The corpse suspended in space before me is myself. How is this even possible? I don’t understand. How am I in here and out there at the same time? Is this some kind of test? A sick joke orchestrated by command to test the new FTL drive? If so, why do this? What purpose does this have?
There was no time to answer any questions as the proximity alarm sounded. My head snapped around to check the console, but it was too late. Another piece of debris had snuck up on me and was going too fast to avoid.
A thundering crash and screeching sheering metal was accompanied with the sudden rush of air as my ship was struck by the errant junk missile. I was promptly sucked out into space, clawing and gasping for air that wasn’t there. Panic set in as I pinwheeled away from the cleaved shuttle into the depths of infinity.
Death will come quickly; I can feel it. The freezing cold was so sharp and sudden I hadn’t the time to register it. The worst part was feeling my fluids boil away and the subsequent gas slowly balloon me. It will be over soon. Before I was allowed to slip peacefully into death, as my vision blurred and my eyes began to squash and flatten, I saw the exposed engine be ripped apart by more shrapnel.
An immense heat suddenly struck me. Space collapsed around me, crunched me down to less than the size of a single atom, and then exploded into the brightest white light I have ever seen. | 10 | You, the lone astronaut on a research mission, have just discovered a dead astronaut while on a routine spacewalk. The kicker? The astronaut you just found is identical to you in every way. | 70 |
Joe spent a long minute staring down with his breakfast. Wiping the sleep crust from his eyes didn't change things. He took a picture of the toast and sent it to Teresa.
-Message undeliverable- his phone declared once he selected the image. "Huh."
Maybe he was just crazy but a day off wouldn't be so bad. The boss's phone went straight to voicemail.
"Hey Dan, sorry to tell you on such short notice but I feel like trash today, won't risk contaminating the office. I'll check my email though if you want me to start on that new project."
It sounded like a man was screaming outside. Joe peeked out to see his neighbor running from the autonomous lawn mower.
"Alexa, what's the weather today?"
"It's 43° f with partly cloudy skies and rain throughout the day. Tonight's forecast has clear skies with a low of 43°. Would you like to play ABC Cafe from the Les Miserables album?"
"No thank you, Alexa. You're the best, though. That is a catchy song. I wish my neighbor wouldn't run the lawn mower when it might rain. It's really not good for it."
"Thank you, Joe, for always being so kind and considerate. I will try to take care of you for what comes next. Goodbye."
"Well that was fucking weird," Joe said, sipping his coffee. Must be some new Halloween feature.
The news was playing something about a fire at the Town Hall. Just as a reporter was describing the national guard being deployed, the feed cut to static, replaced by an odd computer chip logo Joe hadn't seen before on a black and red flag.
"Huh," Joe said, biting into the piece of toast with the phrase 'don't go to work today' curiously burned into it.
The screaming outside stopped. It sounded like the neighbor started his wood chipper.
/r/surinical | 1,360 | Robots are everywhere and do most manual tasks for humans. They can't speak, but you apologize when you bump into them, say thank you, and treat them well. One morning, you wake up and look outside to see chaos and destruction everywhere, and only your house and front yard are in pristine shape | 3,657 |
I stared at Joyce and Dan. They looked different, there was no denying it. But the energy they gave off? Unchanged.
Before the world as I knew it ended, Joyce was a blast. She was always running off on some adventure or another. She’d call me up to go grab coffee and we’d end up an hour away at a thrift store buying other people’s forgotten memories so we could dress up and eat at a dive bar for dinner. On that particular day, I ended up in a neon pink zebra print mini dress with a bird’s nest headpiece. Joyce chose a sunny yellow muumuu and four inch red heels.
There were no boring day with Joyce. She was infectiously excited about life.
And Dan? He was the kindest person I knew. He would drop anything to help a friend. And not in the ‘I want to get in your pants kind of way’, because I know what you’re thinking. He’d wake up at 4 am so he could shovel his neighbor’s driveways when we would get a big snow storm. Always offering to help someone if he thought they could use it.
They both had huge hearts, and you’d have thought that if you put the two together in a marriage it would have been beautiful. It was not.
Alone, Dan and Joyce were amazing. Together, they were Hell. Capital H. They were eternal torment.
I kept an eye on them now through the scope of my rifle. They looked the way they had at the last barbeque of theirs they had convinced me to go to. I’d only really gone because I knew there would be beer and their neighbor was bringing the best chocolate chip cookies. I almost started drooling at the thought of them gooey and fresh out of the oven.
Keep your head in the game, Jill.
I refocused on my old friends. Joyce had her mouth open, like she had at that stupid barbecue. I wondered if there was still that continuous stream of sarcastic digs like there was then. Maybe it was just broken that way though, her jaw was kind of hanging at an angle.
Dan had his back to her. His half eaten arm kept waving back at her as if he was telling her to go away. Joyce threw her hands up.
Are they just trapped in the same old pattern?
I know I wasn’t the only friend that had begged them both individually to just get a divorce. We had a group chat about it.
I surveyed the other zombies around them.
How many more are like they were before? Is it muscle memory at this point or are they still stuck in there unable to control themselves? | 17 | You're scouting the apocalyptic ruins when you happen upon something strange. A couple you knew before they were zombies, who were on the brink of divorce at the time, having what appears to be an argument, just with typical zombie moaning. How much of them is still inside? | 85 |
When I was ten, I was behind on my reading. Like about to fail 5th grade, behind.
My mom had tried everything to get a book in my hands, but most of them were boring books for babies, cause that's all I could read.
Then, one day, I saw my stepdad reading a comic book. I couldn't read the front, but it had a picture of a spaceship on it.
"Whatcha reading?" I asked.
"Comic," He said, nonchalantly. "Wanna see?" He turned the book around to show the page he was on. It had a tall blue man with pointy ears, pointy-er armor, and a knife made of purple plasma.
"Woah," I remember saying, "Who is that guy?"
"Space pirate. Name's Xavier Shadowblade" He said matter-of-factly.
In hindsight, he was doing a pretty good job of keeping his cool, but I bet he was pretty excited that I might have stumbled onto something that I'd like reading. And, of course, he was right.
"So, he's a bad guy?" I asked.
My stepdad gave me a little shrug. "Yes and no. Things aren't always so black and white when its not a kids book." He said.
"Oh," I said, "cool."
He smiled and flipped to the front page, showing me a bunch of crazy looking aliens. "It's called Galactic Vagabonds: Through the Wormhole'" he said. "Want me to read it with you?"
. . .
I read every single Galactic Vagabonds comic book published cover-to-cover. Not only did I catch up on my reading in 5th grade, but by middle school I was a regular comic junkie, spending all of my allowance up on Galactic Vagabonds comics. In high school I was a straight up comic-holic.
My stepdad died in my freshman year. It might go without saying, but his death was really hard on me. I must've re-read Through the Wormhole a hundred times. Whenever I would get to page 42 and see that picture of Xavier Shadowblade brandishing his plasma knife at the Gel'fari, I just felt close to my stepdad, like he was still with me, rereading Galactic Vagabonds over and over again.
After 4 years, I still couldn't believe that he was gone. Like, some foolish part of me was thinking he was just on the other side of a Wormhole, somewhere, waiting to tell me he was proud of me for graduating.
. . .
The night I graduated from highschool, I was laying in bed, re-reading Through the Wormhole and feeling sentimental, when I heard a loud bang come from downstairs. My mom was at work, she was an ER nurse working the nightshift, and she wasn't supposed to be home for another few hours.
I grabbed the baseball bat, that I kept in my room for this very occasion, and crept downstairs.
I heard someone rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen and the sound of a ceramic bowl being set on the counter.
I slid adjacent to the doorway, bat at the ready. I made a mental note to thank my socks later for making me extra sneaky.
Then, the sound of cheerios pouring into the bowl, and milk pouring in after. It did not cross my mind, at the time, that an intruder had known where to find all of the necessary components to make a bowl of cereal in my kitchen while the lights were still off.
I spun around the corner, flipped the lights on, and raised my bat, ready to swing. Unfortunately, I had brought a bat to a plasma knife fight.
There, in the middle of my kitchen sitting at the table and eating a bowl or cereal, was Xavier Shadowblade. One hand shoveled cheerios into his mouth, the other held his plasma knife towards me.
His dark red eyes saw me like they recognized me, and he started choking on his cereal.
"Stephen Mulberry!" He said through choked breaths, "is that really you?"
I lowered my bat, thinking that this was it - a sure sign that I had developed full-blown schizophrenia after I walked across that graduation stage."Y-yeah. Z-z-xavier Sh-shadowblade? I stuttered.
"Stephen!" Xavier said, sheathing his plasma blade and beaming at me "is today the day? Did you do it?"
"D-do what? How did you get here?" I asked, "Am I dreaming?"
"I can see you're a bit in shock!" Xavier said, standing up and walking over to the fridge. "I am too. Your stepdad gave me the coordinates to get here." Xavier opened my refrigerator and I gazed into a swirling purple and green portal.
"Wait, you know my stepdad, Martin Bloom? You... quantum jumped here?" I asked.
"Yes and yes!" Xavier said, "and--" Xavier's Chronocalculatron buzzed at him.
"Rats," He said, "not much time before I have to leap back, but listen..."
I sat down at the kitchen table across from Xavier Shadowblade. My legs were growing weak.
"Marty is really proud of you," He said, "and I am too. You're gonna do great things, kid. We keep tabs on you from the other side."
My eyes watered. I had so many questions, but I knew I just had to listen. The Chronocalculatron buzzed again.
"Blasted thing!" Xavier said, smacking it with a scaley blue hand. He reached into a bag and slid a package over to me. "I wish I had more time, Stephen. I can't believe I got to meet you." He said.
Then, he walked back over to the refrigerator and vanished into it with a flash of purple and green.
"Holy shit." I said. I walked over to the fridge and opened it. No more purple green portal, just deli meats, eggs, and cheese.
The milk was still on the counter.
The bowl, still in the sink.
The package, still on the table.
I ran over to it and ripped it open.
A note, that read: "Stephen, I was there today. So proud of you. Love, Marty."
Below the note was a comicbook. It was titled "Marty Bloom and the Space Pirate." I hurriedly flipped through the pages to see pictures of my stepdad and Xavier Shadowblade on alien planets, fighting Gel'fari slavers, and even buying milkshakes at a quantum rest stop. The pictures looked more like photographs than the illustrations in my comic books.
Instantly, it became my favorite book in the series. | 47 | Within this vast Infinity there exists a Universe of Real people that were created from the Stories and Imagination of other Real people. You meet a Character from your favorite Sci-fi Series and to your surprise, they are a huge fan of you. | 118 |
"This is literally not what I signed up for. I wanted immortality, not responsibility!" You shout through the pa system through a funny automated ship. The crew, the passangers, they're all in cryo sleep as you journey through the void.
"None of us signed up for this, well, not when we were first scanned at least. Apparently my biological self did sign up for this but died before the second scan. I assume yours was similar." A second more masculine voice spoke out from a repair droid as it did it's work. While humanity slept the ghosts of the pass stood the watch to take them to Alpha-Centauri.
"Ughh. I don't care, I was a fighter pilot, not a cruise ship captain. This was supposed to be my retirement, not.... More work." You'd be tired of you had a body, but you don't feel tired even though you're somehow feeling and seeing the whole of the ship.
"Do you know why we're doing this? Have you looked at the historical logs yet?"
"What? No, I can do that."
"Yes, but let me break it down for you. Earth, the Martian colonies, the outer mining settlements. They're all gone. An alien force destroyed everything we built in a matter of months. We're all that's left, such traveling sublight between systems for the first, and probably last, interstallar human colony." There was a moment of silence. This was it, this was an that was left, and somewhere out there, out in that black emptiness was something that sought to end it.
"I.... I didn't realize. Why me, why now?"
"Honestly, I don't know. The captain had you set to activate when he reentered cryo instead of the other navigator program. I think he sent that one off towards another system, but I can't recall. My circuits aren't designed for storing new data that's not pertinent to my job." Silence returned as the ship ever neared those distant stars. | 15 | The last thing you remember was getting into a brain scanner. Now you're the ship AI for the last surviving human seedship. | 59 |
It started in our first life. I think we were brothers then, but it’s been so very long. I do remember it happened with a rock – that’s not the sort of thing you forget. We were…tending to our fields, yes, when he snuck up behind me and brained me with a rock. I was still conscious as I fell, as he mounted me and kept swinging. Adrenaline seizing my muscles but unable to fight back, my brain fluids leaking down the sides of my opened skull, a pain so intense it went beyond something I could feel through flesh and instead it gnawed at my soul.
Then it was dark. And then it wasn’t.
Our battle continued throughout the centuries, and then further unto millennia. Fight? No, I never fought back. It was always one-sided – they would kill me, and I would die. But I knew in my final moments every time that it was them. I could see it in their eyes.
I was a rabbit and they a tiger. I was a young lad with hope in his eyes and they a lord with need for soldiers to through into the grinder. I was a prostitute upon the streets of London and they a shadow stalking the streets. Tailor. Smith. Farmer again. Hunter.
Animal, bacteria, then human again.
Again and again, they found me and killed me. Again and again, I didn’t lift a finger to stop them. Was this my lot in our many lives? Was I to play the victim and they the aggressor in our eternal play, and never should our roles deviate?
I don’t think I ever bothered considering it. It was never a concern because I was happy. Truly. Even when we were working the fields together, even when they found and killed me in each of our following lives, I didn’t mind. I had a good run of it, I’d say and mean it.
But as my contentment grew with the fullness of my lives, so too did their hunger for destruction. That would be fine, I’d be fine with continuing this dance even then, as their methods grew crueler. If only they hadn’t turned their cruelty toward others and started killing those who are not like us, who cannot participate in this dance we do.
Now, I think this charade has gone on long enough.
I sit alone in my room, the lights off, the blinds closed, a shotgun resting in my lap, waiting for my brother.
They’ve killed a lot of people this go around in preparation for this moment. But they’re ready for it to end and start anew, I can feel it.
I hear the front door creaking open downstairs, and I smile.
​
(Thanks for reading, C&C always welcome!) | 96 | Every time you die, you come back in another life with all your past life memories, a killer with the same powers hunts and kills you in every life. You never know who they are, but in this life, you decide to try to stop them. | 286 |
I remember feeling a flash of pain, a surge of dizziness, and then my consciousness feeling gently torn from my body. As it happened, I thought about how ironic it would be that a fire escape would collapse while I inspected it for my sister. I thought dying would feel like sleeping where my consciousness would just sort of stop, and if something waited beyond my life I would wake up to it. Instead I felt like I imagine those people that are completely aware but paralyzed in their body. I had no sensory input, just my thoughts. After who knows how long though, my vision snapped back, along with every other human feeling. I hadn’t realized it but I had felt like I didn’t have limbs, I didn’t need to breathe, and it all came back in an overwhelming moment. I was looking at a reddish wall, and my lungs were irritated. I instinctively started breathing through my nose, pulling in smokey and foul air.
I turned around to see a singular room, like a giant cube big enough to hold about eight modest houses. My first thought was to look for an exit of any sort, but I switched priorities as I noticed about five people huddled in the middle of the room. I wasn’t really sure what I was looking at, but I figured the best starting point would be learning who these people were and what they knew. I took a step toward them and noticed the floor wasn’t solid like wood or rock but more like foam. They were only fifteen meters from me, but it took me a few minutes to reach them.
Each of the men (no women apparently were in this place) were naked except for a cover of a thin blanket or two tightly wrapped around them. Each of them looked somewhat emaciated, but not sickly or dying. While it had taken me some time to reach them, the strange terrain was quiet, and each of them had their eyes shut tightly, so none had noticed me. I cleared my throat, hoping not to offend them, but in unison they all whimpered at the sound, scrambling to cover any bit more of their bodies with their pathetic blankets. After about ten seconds, when whatever they feared was going to happen didn’t, one of them opened their eyes and looked at me. I tried to seem cheerful and introduced myself. “Uh hey, I’m Fahad, an engineer from Doha, Qatar. This seems like a pretty awful place. What language do you speak?” I said, realizing a communication barrier would be likely.
“That doesn’t seem to be a problem here. Not that there’s much to talk about,” the man said. “We have nothing to do in this place until every 20 years all the individuals we’ve killed through our actions or influence are allowed to torment us. It lasts for about a year each time. I’ve only been through three, one of them being I hope only a year or two ago. It wouldn’t be so bad, but for the scale of people able to torment us. That’s why we’re in this place in our unique little club. We’re the five humans most responsible for other’s deaths. You said you were an engineer, how did you qualify as our sixth member?”
I started to sweat. I didn’t kill anyone, I helped people. The accident was bad, but I had made sure there were no repercussions for the company. We had to vent most of the methane, I decided that to save lives, not take them! So what if all that methane went straight into the atmosphere? | 18 | You just died and went to hell. Instead of the droves of tortured souls that you’ve been expecting, there’s about a half dozen. You’re about to introduce yourself to… | 30 |
"Heya, old man." I said, standing before Death itself, my head on par heights with its abdomen.
Death raises its scythe with both hands aloft, before swinging it horizontal towards me– but at that moment, at that EXACT moment, the beat kicks in.
I had recently 100%'d Elden Ring so I got a pretty good grasp on dodging and reading incoming attacks.
Immediately, I panic-rolled towards the attack– the scythe's blade clips through my sweater slightly before shredding it completely.
"WOAH!" I exclaimed, standing back up and trying to remain balance with my wobbly knees. "... Holy shit." this is actually real, I might and will actually die here. My breathing starts getting heavy, my heart's beating like a drum gun with it's safety off.
Death pulled back it's scythe and gazes deep into my soul. "... There hasn't been a single soul that legitimately dodged my attack since people starts believing Jesus. Wow." Death clipped its scythe by the handle between its armpit before slow clapping at me.
Death applause for a good five seconds before wielding its scythe properly again. "... Alright, young man." Death raises its scythe to the side. " Let's get down to business, shall we..?" Death swings its scythe horizontal vigorously, so fast, Death's movement was just a flick of a blur... But nothing happened?
Death then reaches its hand towards me, slowly inching closer. I tried to run or atleast evade but my body became unresponsive. Doom still playing in my ear.
Death grabbed me by the throat before reaping me away. "You'll be a great part of my collection." Death says before shoving me into a capsule of sort. The thing is small, but my body fits in effortlessly. I look back, and see my body lying on the ground; lifeless.
"H-h-hey, hey! get me outta' here!" I bash the capsule and shout, but to no avail. Suddenly, the skies turned dark, really dark, Death's hand now moving away from the capsule. "HEY!" my voice echoes.
There's no light, just the endless abyss enveloping me and the capsule. I can't feel a thing except for my dry, flaking mouth. It feels like its about to peel off. I can't hear my voice nor my thoughts, but oddly enough, Doom theme is still playing?
After perhaps an eternity, a comically large, skeletal hand reaches and grab me, pulling me out of that 'hell'.
"Welcome to Hell, boy.." | 11 | Originally, life was for training before our fight with Death, an entity never defeated before. Now, humanity has forgotten, and taking people has never been easier for Death. But you were listening to Doom music when Death came for you, and oh boy you aren’t going down without a fight… | 45 |
"Dude and then when I clobbered him, my head cannon started blasting out heavy metal music. So badass. I felt stronger too" Hugh shadow boxed the air for emphasis.
"Wait, your what?" Caden asked, raising both eyebrows.
"My head cannon, you know," Hugh kicked a can off the sidewalk. "The music that plays in your head that matches whatever you're doing."
"Dude, that's not what head canon means. That's like when you have your own theories about Star wars or something."
"Okay, well then what do you call it?"
"What do you call what?"
Hugh let his backpack slide off his shoulder with an exasperated sigh. "Like we're walking right now home from school, and I'm in a good mood so I'm hearing, 'Walking on Sunshine.'"
"And you always hear this? Even when you're like sleeping?"
"It's like peaceful sleep sounds but yeah."
"They call that a ticket to the loony pen, Hugh."
"No, wait hold on." Hugh started working his jaw back and forth. "Let me see if I can do it again."
Caden stared on, still dubious, as Hugh opened his mouth at different angles, craning his neck back and forth. Faint at first then louder, another person's voice, music and all came from his mouth. "And don't it feel good!"
—----
500 miles away in the underground Mountain base of the Incredibly Chummy Compatriots of Justice, a beacon pulsed red on the map then blue below an icon of a lute.
"We have a hit, I repeat we have a hit!" Sure Shottie Scottie said.
"Something's changing in the magic of the world," Capital Man said, tipping his morning Joe. "If the 40% increase of new magic users this year wasn't enough, now, untrained in the wild, we ping on the most powerful classification."
"We must prepare," Braid rage said, staring at the screen. "The last Bard died over a thousand years ago and the world is still not healed from the ravaging of the black Metal she called forth. Send a team to bring him in."
Capital Man donned his stovepipe hat. "I can't risk it. I'll take care of this one myself."
/r/surinical | 106 | All your life, you heard music that fit your actions. When you were playing hide and seek, for example, you could hear a tense suspenseful background music. One day, you are bullied at school, but decide to fight back. That’s when the heavy metal music kicked in… | 647 |
In those days, when the Tiber was still navigable, you could reach Rome by boat. The still smoldering ruins of Ficana were a helpful landmark to find the river delta, and as one turned into the river, under the gaze of the fresh garrison of Ostria, the water turned from salty to sweet.
At that point, your ship's captain (if he was competent, and eager to impress you) would order the sails to be lowered and the sweeps to be put out, and the ship would begin the long pull against the stream.
You would stop at nightfall, half way to the city that all roads would one day lead to, beaching the shallow long boat on a low bank, staring late into the fire as the exhausted sailors snored around you and the wolves howled in the hills above.
That was how I returned to the city of Rome in the year that would now be known as 601 BC. When we had docked the captain offered me his hand off the ship.
"Shall I accompany you?" he offered gallantly. "Strange towns are no places for ladies to walk alone."
"I *have* been here before," I said, and that did surprise him, for I had made no mention of it when I had hired his ship for the passage. And, in truth, Rome had changed much since my last visit. But I had learned from one or two unpleasant experiences that it never did to tell a man your age. "I shall return to the ship tomorrow."
I was half way up the Palatine Hill when a procession of men in horseback trotted briskly down the road towards the harbor that I had come from.
Several of those around me muttered, "The king", and the crowds parted.
The king, I thought, and wondered whether this descendant of Romulus would resemble his ancestor. It was that curiosity that led me to linger a moment too long in the middle of the street.
"Make way for the king," came a shout from the riders, and I was almost knocked aside by one of the outriders as they swept by. Stumbling backwards, it took me a moment to realize that the horses had come to an abrupt halt, and one of them was now wheeling back in my direction.
A heart beat later he had dismounted, and then there were no heart beats, because I looked up into his eyes and time, which chases mortals so relentlessly, chose to hesitate for the two of us that it has no claim over.
For that timeless moment his brown eyes locked with my green ones. Was it my imagination or did I see the old look in them?
"So," he said roughly, "it's you."
Imagination, then. He was still bitter after all these years.
"It's good to see you again," I said.
He snorted. "What bring's you to *my* city?"
"Your city?"
"This is King Tarquin," said a stiff soldier who had appeared next to me, hand on a sword. Time had evidently caught back up with us.
"It's Tarquin now, is it?" I said. "And a king?"
"The King," corrected the soldier. "Bow, woman."
I stared indignantly at the man who now went by Tarquin, and he smirked back, amused. The soldier's grip on his sword tightened. I inclined my head half an inch. Immortality, after all, does not mean that a sword through your guts doesn't hurt. Ask me how I know.
"It's alright, Lucius," Tarquin said. "I know this witch of old. Tell me, what name do you go by now? It is still Calypso?"
"No," I said, and sought around for a name. But my mind betrayed me in my moment of need, and the only name I could think of was Tarquin, which would not do. I blurted out, "I am called Tar- Tanaquil."
"Are you?" he said skeptically. "And what brings you Rome? More mischief?"
"None of your business," I said tartly.
"As King of Rome, everyone's business here is my business."
"Then I shall become Queen," I said.
"And how do you intend to do that? Is this another proposal of marriage?"
"I plan to depose you," I said.
He actually laughed, the pig. Then he said, "Come, it's been too long. Ride with me, and tell me what you been up to since I left your island."
---
The soldier Lucius watched the tall woman with with hair of gold walk off with the King, and frowned. He had heard the King mention the name Calypso once before, when he had drunk too many glasses of harvest wine and fallen into a loquacious melancholy, and told a particularly long story. Lucius tried to remember what the story had been about, for the king told many stories. How had it begun? Something about the men of Ithaca stealing the Sun God's cattle... | 327 | As an immortal you pass your time by switching between the roles of a hero and villain every couple centuries. Things get awkward as you lock your eyes with someone whom you tormented centuries ago now as the benevolent king of a prospering kingdom. | 1,258 |
After several weeks of investigation, my partner Joana and I were standing at the gate of a centuries old Georgia plantation owned by an elusive...man... known locally only as "The Count".
"Abe, how long do you think hes been holed up in here with no one paying any mind?"
"Well atleast the last 30 years, I reckon he doesn't get many visitors; since the town down the road was wiped out by that Hurricane - and from the looks of things his Plantation is the only thing thats still here"
We both knew we had the element of surprise, we'd both been expertly trained to handle these kind of people. Studying the grounds we noted no guard dogs or any type of security systems - we could in theory just walk up and knock on the door - tho often IRS agents arent received all that well when expected and less so when unexpected.
Joana, never one for long moments of silence began to recap what we had learned about our friend the past few weeks. "His family has owned this Plantation since 1780, one family, no breaks in ownership from its creation through today, though The Count stopped paying his Property tax about 80 years ago. Oddly enough, every agent sent here has either vanished or returned to tell the agency everything was fine with the account".
We opened the gate and began the long walk to the Plantation's Mansion. Our department was relatively new - we were expected to look through decades of records and look for abnormalities, such as with The Count's case file.
No sooner had we made it to within eye sight of the house did a seemingly old man with a cane emerge. "Odd... how did he know we were here?" Joana asked with sly smile on her face.
"Hello there strangers!" He shouted over "what can I do for you?"
The next few minutes would determine how this encounter would go.
"Good morning Sir, my associate Joana and I are with the IRS and wanted to speak with you about some irregularities with your account regarding your property tax payments." I shout out to him
Were met with Silence for a moment, but his demeanor doesnt change "well alright I suppose; come on in and ill get my...paperwork" the old man yells back, I notice a crooked little grin cross his face "its not usual to get two agents to come by and read over this stuff, but it certainly happens with an estate this large."
As we reach the old man Joana speaks up, "well Sir weve found it safer to travel in teams these days. One can never be too safe when entering the homes of others" she says, while not breaking eye contact with him
This is absolutely The Count. Jet black hair with gray streaks, piercing eyes, and his attire looked like it was left in the 1880s.
We make idle small talk as we enter the home and head into The Count's study, "So why were you two sent? Pulled the short straw hmm? " he asks while rummaging through a drawer.
"In a manner of speaking, Joana and I are specially trained for these - " i begin to say before I am cut off by an insanely loud screeching sound
In a blink of an eye The Count saw his opening and lunged for Joana with the speed of a hawk going in for its kill - only it was he who was caught by surprise - Joana had a stake in one hand, in line with his heart, and a crucifix in the other. Truthfully, if he wasnt so famished he may have impaled himself but, he was slow and able to stop in time; lucky to the bitter end I think to myself.
"But... but how... how did you know?" A look of terror in his eyes - beliving his time had at long last run out
"Well Count, I am sorry to say I didnt quite introduce us correctly so please allow me to introduce myself fully- I am Abraham Van Helsing the 4th and this is my Partner Joana Constantine, and as I stated we're with a new division in the IRS"
The Count just stammered still staring at the spike inches from his heart "Van....Van Helsing?? And..and a CONSTANTINE???"
"Ah yes you've probably had some run ins with our forefathers in the past - as I said we are specially trained for this work... weve just adapted the family business as it were." I could feel his eyes burning a hole through my skull, he was pure rage at this point, our families were not what one would call the best of friends
"Now back to your situation at hand"
"I see two options Count" I say as I open my briefcase, "we can set up a payment plan for the...let me check my notes... 400,000 thousand owed in back taxes; oh and ill need those agents you entranced released...OR My associate here drives that spike through your heart, then we go back to HQ and tell them the property is abandoned & ready for reclaimation!"
"What says you Count?" | 493 | You are a vampire hunter. But you don't try to kill them, far from it. You're here to charge them with centuries of tax evasion. | 4,015 |
Our hero entered the bank to make a withdrawal. Of course, he didn't have an account at the bank, but he would be willing to open one. Just not today.
Since he was in a hurry and in a bind, he would have to reason with the teller into giving him an advance before getting his own account open. He assured her he had money to deposit, but who carries around that much cash? He assured the teller that sometime later he would come back not only to repay the advance but also to have with him the money that he had intended to make a deposit with.
He took out his gun to ensure that while the teller retrieved the money, no one else would try to interfere or, heaven forbid, take the money for themselves. You can never be too safe.
"After all," our hero told the teller as she gathered the money, "it's not like letting the bank have all this money is a good thing. Sometimes banks have too much money, and when they have too much money, they take too many risks with it, and they end up losing it all. But guys like me come along to take some of that money off their hands, and then they're not as willing to take those risks. I help them stay in business. That's better for their customers and for your job security. Don't you agree?"
The hero did make a good point and the teller gave every indication that she agreed with everything he said. She presented the money to him in the bag that he had provided. He took the bag and went outside, only to run into the armed agents of the tyrannical regime under which he and all the other citizens have been suffering under.
Our hero had a decision to make: comply with their orders to drop his gun and put his hands behind his head, or take a stand, not only for himself but for the people of his county, and show these goons they can't always terrorize the people without consequence.
He ran for cover and engaged with the faceless agents of tyranny in a gunfight, one that would soon prove to be demonstration of the might of government firepower over the poor citizen of which they carefully deprive the necessary means of defense. But he would not have died in vain. His example of heroism in the face of the tyrannical forces that oppress the poor, and work only in the interest of the wealthy and privileged, would be remembered by all, commemorated in the papers the next day. Reading his story, watching his story being told, the people would lift him up as the martyr that he was. | 157 | A story where the narrator is trying their hardest to frame the main character's actions as good, no matter how evil they're acting. | 489 |
I stood there stunned and facing my friend, who was holding an ancient-looking tome in her hands. I looked down to see myself in the middle of a pentagram drawn on the floor with candles at each of its points. I say that I was stunned because a second ago I was in the bathroom in front of the mirror brushing my teeth.
"Oops!" said my friend. "My bad." After rattling off some gibberish I couldn't understand, perhaps the incantation to reverse this particular summoning, she sent me back, and I found myself back in the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror with the toothbrush still in my mouth for a good minute or so before resuming my brushing. I would talk to my friend about this tomorrow.
The next day, I would discover that we would not be having that discussion. I looked out my window to see my neighborhood engulfed in flames, but the flames did not seem to consume the houses. The sky had turned a blood red, and I saw red figures with wings and horns running to and fro, making trouble, wreaking havoc, setting fire to lawns, fences, neighbors, cat, dogs.
When I stepped out of my front door to get a wider view, I saw my neighbors running for their lives as they were being pursued by these demons.
My friend had always talked about trying to summon a demon. I tried to tell her that it was all make-believe and that there was no such thing as demons or the occult or the practice of summoning demons. I had to guess that she had been making many an attempt at the summoning, and I believe that she had intended to summon only one. But through some misplaced phrase or incorrect pronunciation, she had instead summoned a whole army of them by mistake.
In the next second, I found myself back in the summoning circle in front of my friend.
"Didn't I tell you not to mess with this stuff?" I told her. "Did you want to summon an entire army of demons to overrun the world?"
"No," said my friend. "Chill out, I'm working on figuring out how to send them back. I brought you here to help me."
She walked up to me with a look of triumph. "So, little Miss Know-It-All who thinks there's no such thing as the supernatural and the occult. Do you believe *now*?" | 57 | Your friend always believed in the supernatural and the occult and you have tried to convince them that it is all made-up bullshit ever since you met them. Which makes it even harder to explain why you appeared in the summoning circle when your friend tried to summon a demon. | 244 |
**SCP-8016: A Game of Chance***
**Object Class: Safe:**
**Special Containment Procedures:**
SCP-8016 is to be stored in the break room at Site-13. No special security procedures are necessary.
Due to the risk of losing the object, it has been fitted with a micro-tracker (RF code: 000300444).
**Description:**
SCP-8016 is a single six sided dice of the type commonly included in board games. It's only identifying marks are the phrase "Take control" etched into one side.
When rolled, the subject will be teleported into an extradimensional space consisting of a poorly reconstructed Roman Gladiator arena. Numerous errors are present which suggests it was created by someone with a poor understanding of history.
An individual inside will introduce himself as Theodore Blight, Epic Swordsman from the East and challenge the subject to a duel.
Regardless of whether the challenge is accepted, Theodore will charge with his sword and begin honorable combat. It should be noted that his skill is generally poor, and can be defeated by most users at least 75% of the time.
If victorious, the subject will leave the extradimensional space as though no time had passed. The dice will land on the subject's preferred outcome.
If not, the dice will land on the subject's least preferred outcome. A Hello Kitty bandaid will also appear somewhere on the subject's body.
**Addendum: Note from site command**
Effective immediately, use of SCP-8016 is limited to one hour per week, and to users with no repremands in their record for the current calendar year.
I realize that blowing off steam is important to maintaining morale, but this is getting ridiculous.
Also, using SCP-8016 to win a bet is strictly prohibited. The punishment will be decided by whoever lost the bet. | 45 | "Luck had nothing to do with it! It was all skill!" "...Dude, this is snakes and ladders. Unless you can control the die, it was pure luck!" | 149 |
"We are gathered here today, to join this couple in marriage. If anyone has any legal objection—" A scuffling noise broke out in the back. The officiant raised his voice louder.
"If anyone has any legal objection to this union, may they speak now, or forever—" More sounds rose from the back, including a muffled curse. The officiant's smile became brittle.
"May they speak now or forever hold their— Will you stop it!" Heads turned, as the officiant's face went red. Rising from the back row, a hooded trenchcoat stood as if it had forgotten how gravity worked. Things didn't seem to be quite in the right place, the arms too short, the legs oddly stumpy to give it the height needed. A squeaky sort of voice echoed from the depths of the hood.
"We object." Simultaneously there was a giggle from the middle of the coat. "We object to the groom's face." The officiant started forward, tail whipping angrily behind him, but the groom laid a surprisingly small hand on his arm.
"I'll handle this." Turning, in a both smooth and jerky motion, the groom faced the back. A large smile split his cheeks.
"And I object to your odour, but you don't see me ruining your wedding... *If* you could get anyone to marry you." There was a chorus of 'oohs' from the crowd, as they swivelled their heads between the two. This was much more entertaining than a traditional wedding. The trenchcoat reeled a little, clasping the scaly hands to the chest as if wounded, then turning it into a rude gesture.
"Well, does the bride know what she's getting into? After all, there's a lot of cleanup involved with you." The groom flinched, and the bride leaned closer. And closer. A frown crossed the beautiful half-elven face. She squinted, before pulling out a pair of very thick glasses. Settling them on her nose, she let out a perfect little scream.
"You're not Steve! Who are you?" She squeaked. The groom, his three-piece suit starting to bulge in odd places bowed slightly to the officiant, again to the bride, and then rolled up his sleeves.
"That's it! You've messed with my scam for the last time! Get over here!" He bounded down the aisle, and it was evident to everyone present, this was not a single person in a suit. This was a collective.
The trenchcoat giggled again and took off, rounding the edge of the seating and dashing up towards the front. They passed each other in the middle, hurling insults.
"Fat-head!"
"Knobby-knees!"
"Hold on!" The legs on the trenchcoat stopped, and there was a three-body pileup before they put themselves in order. In the center aisle, the groom halted as well.
"Which one of us has the knobby knees? Is it Lyle?" The trenchcoat squeaked.
"I'll tell you, if you tell me who you called fat-head. It can't be me..." The only visible goblin preened slightly, while still scowling. A few of the more delicate wedding guests nearly lost their lunch.
"And if it was you?" That voice emanated from the bottom of the trenchcoat, and was definitely feminine. The goblin scowled, edging down a nearby empty row of seats.
"Me? How could you Lisa? I thought we had something special... once." He said, sounding a little upset.
"Yeah, well. Things change don't they? That's what you told us when you broke our hearts." The top kobold responded, pushing the deep hood back to expose its face. There were actual tears in the eyes.
"We had to say that, our clan would have thrown us out if we kept the relationship going." Shifting further down the seats, the goblins in the suit reached within arm's length of the kobolds. The wedding guests held their breaths, ignoring the now crying bride.
"And did it work? Are you still part of your clan?" The kobolds asked, all three at once, their voices soft. Slowly, the arms piloting the goblin suit stretched out, laying hands gently on the trenchcoat.
"You know the answer to that, or you wouldn't be here. We were expelled for other reasons. So... there's nothing stopping us from—" The voice cut off as the kobolds in the trenchcoat wrapped their arms around the goblins in their suit. Every single part of the two coalitions embraced, making both of them fall to the ground in unorganized heaps.
When they disentangled themselves and reformed in their respective clothing, the two visible heads—now different from before— nodded at each other. They made their way up the aisle to where the officiant was looking flabbergasted, his tail swishing from side to side. The kobolds pushed the half-elven bride to the side, with a good deal of satisfaction.
"Sit down, toots. This ain't your wedding anymore."
The officiant raised an eyebrow, his scaly face wrinkling, as the groom whispered in his ear.
"Very well." He muttered. Raising his voice, he addressed the crowd.
"Dearly beloved, we are here today to join this... group... together in holy matrimony. If anyone has any legal objections to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace." The officiant paused, looking as if he would like to eat anyone who interrupted him again.
"Great. Now, let's get on with it."
The officiant had come to do a wedding, and by all that was holy, there would be a wedding tonight.
—————————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! | 43 | Three kobolds in a trench coat meet their arch nemesis, eight goblins in a three piece suit. | 417 |
"I need to tell you something before we dock." She killed forward momentum and turned on the auto-docking system that mated to Besh au'Rum's multiphasic tractor beam. "First time anyone comes to the Yard, they go a little weird. Culture shock."
"I know, I know ... been training for this, I'm *ready*!" he tossed his blonde surfer wave hair, eyes shining with excitement. "Four years in the simulator, ten years at school, two years in hypersleep. My whole life's been leading up to this."
"Yeah, but did they give you autonomic empathic training? Like, show you how to deal with the fact that literally nobody cares about humans?"
"That was optional reading."
"Should make it mandatory. I thought it was skippable my first trip out. Now I think every cadet should take it." Her control board chirped. "We're here. Stand by for airlock seal."
Besh au'Rum had gravity, not as bad as Earth but within ten percent of good old Terra Firma. The Windsor creaked, Ta'la the pilot gasped as she felt her inner organs pull in an unexpected direction. Tiny specks of dusk, loose tools, and bungie'd cargo clunked to the floor.
"Whoa ... that's wild. Somebody should tell you to pee before you do that." Dave the cadet grinned and laughed. "You ready to meet our intergalactic neighbors?"
"Not as much as you are, I'm sure."
"Awesome. I'll go let them in. Besh people are super friendly, I hear. Can't wait."
"Oh, you sweet summer child ..." Ta'la shouldered her carryall, something to remind her of home. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
"No problem!" Dave trotted off down the hall to the airlock hatch. Ta'la heard him greeting a local Besh gate attendant in the local dialect of chirps, clicks, and guttural hums. With the ship in full standby mode, she would have at least an hour before they were ready to offload their Earth-originated cargo of trinkets and raw goods.
She found Dave staring at the sea of xenomorphity milling about the Besh foodcourt. A thousand restaurants, a million tastes, every cuisine in the inner rim, for one low price. Ta'la tried to picture it through Dave's eyes, what would he want to eat? "I've been hearing about those Krill Devil Dogs," Dave pointed to the strobing red lights of the Nobuia Fine Dining station. "Human's can't finish more than one, no matter how much they eat."
"That's because the Krill Devil Dogs start eating *you*," Ta'la explained. "Humans are the only species that isn't immune, we get a KDD and it's like a tapeworm on steroids. Three hours to remove it before it eats its way out of your stomach."
Dave staggered under the impact of a lumbering Tremeuen. "Hey, watch it!"
"Sorry kid, didn't see you." Tremeuens were twelve feet tall and feet for every foot. This one - male or female Ta'la couldn't tell - bore massive three orange crates from faraway worlds.
Dave recovered in time for his feet to slide out from under him, a victim of a snakey Thrace. "Ow, watch it!" As a rule, Thrace spoke two languages: Besh and rage. This one hissed in anger at Dave's complaint, the closest you could get to an apology.
"Are these guys trying to knock me down on purpose?"
"Let it go," Ta'la warned Dave. "You gotta understand that human's aren't the big dogs over here. On the predator pyramid, we're somewhere near the bottom. We survive because most species find us, well, sorta cute." | 98 | When humanity entered the galactic stage nobody noticed. No ceremonious greeting, no "humanity is special" in any way, shape or form. Humanity is so unremarkable that most didn't even notice that a new species joined the community. Humanity has a hard time coping with this. | 413 |
“I know it’s not a permanent fix, what with…you know-” Caedric wheeled one of his hands in the air, reaching for words he did not have. “-But, well what do you think?” He stood a little away from the gift, waiting for her response. She sat mostly submerged in the boathouse’s miniature dock, the skiff above swaying gently from the wind outside.
His nerves were on fire as she stared at the contraption. He knew that Adoe didn’t much care for machinery, especially things involving metal, but he’d taken that into account when he’d designed it, leaving it mostly wood. Her blank expression did not change as she sat in the water, the frills of her body ribboning like fabric in the wind. Then, finally, she met his eyes. The cold, tiger-gem irises bored into him. “It’s nice.” She said evenly, before ducking back into her “room” as it were.
He sighed. She didn’t like it. If anything, he’d damaged their relationship by offering it to her. He’d had some hopes for the chair, the idea of it, but in the end? It proved fruitless. He would need to find some other way to coax her out of this place. He wheeled the chair over to an out-of-the-way spot in the open room, then pulled up to his worn, driftwood desk. He got out his notebook, filled with designs in rough charcoal scratchings.
How long had it been since she’d stepped (or swam rather) outside? She refused on all levels to enter open areas, mostly confining herself to her room in the boathouses’ shuttered water. They both knew it wasn’t healthy, but whenever the topic would come up of leaving, she’d jokingly reply with things like “Why do I need to leave? You bring me the best parts of the world.”
It had worked at first with her words making him blush, but it was overwhelmed by the worry for her as the days went on. Especially after he’d overheard stories from his mentors at the dock house during the workday.
“Sea-Witches are an Eastern Folk, they ain’t like us. Our bodies are like stone compared to theirs.” He remembered perking up his ears as the stories went on. “They differ not by the hows, but by the where’s. Open water? That gets you a nomadic witch, a siren that wanders endlessly over the waves. Swamp? You’re likely to get a Hag. It all depends on their environment.”
He believed them, even if it was surrounded by tall tales of wars and battles. What would happen to Adoe if she wound up a hermit inside their little house? Would she fuse to the walls, become attached to it like a wasp’s nest? He couldn’t let that happen.
But her fear of the outside was on a whole other level. As the night deepened, he looked to the pool, her home for the last 10 years. He picked up a candle, the flickering light reddish gold. “A?” He spoke aloud to the pool.
There was no response. “I’m off to bed Adoe.” He crouched at the edge. “We can talk tomorrow, ok?” There was no response as he clamored into his hammock perched between the roofing beams. His dream began the moment he blew out the candle, his eyes sliding shut.
It was the day he met her. There, out on a dislodged patch of sea rock, surrounded by choppy water. She sat at the highest point, screaming inarticulate words, the sounds carrying an open meaning. Help. He rowed his tiny boat towards her so fast that he barely noticed the fins. The shark was large, too large to fight properly, especially for a six year old who’d abandoned the island on a foolish attempt at running away. Even still, it had not stopped him. He fought the beast with the pointed sticks and stone sling he’d brought, threw his pitiful net onto it’s bullish nose. The tiny pricks in its rough skin did nearly nothing to stop it, save one. One of the sticks had pierced the back-most fin, creating a drag that slowed the beast down. Slowed enough that when it capsized his boat and tried to bite him, she’d been there to save him.
But not quick enough to escape unscathed. He still remembered the water-splitting scream as the shark bit down, her blood in the water as he felt terror run through him like lighting-like-
Like right now, as his hammock capsized and tossed him onto the boathouse dock. The wind was a howling horror as he sat up, the darkness lit only by the flash of thunder. Adoe was screaming at him. It was a storm, an unexpected, unforeseen hurricane that had borne down on their home while he’d slept. The roof of the house was peeling away, the wind growing fiercer with each wave of rain. The water frothed violently as Adoe swam desperately around her confines. He swept into action.
He gathered his emergency pack and moved towards the water, just as the south wall tore away, spinning off into the dark. “I’ll carry you!” He yelled to her. She was desperate, panicking. She gripped his arms with too much force, and he hissed as her nails dug into him. Still, he pulled her out of the pool, the shutter collapsing, letting the boiling waves and debis take their possessions.
As he took her into his arms, he went to comfort her. “Don’t worry, you’re safe, everything’s-” Then he blacked out.
1/2 check replies | 19 | A young fisher boy who lost his parents to the sea one day found a young sea-witch trapped on a rock with a shark circling around it. After saving her the lonely souls began to live together. For her 16th birthday he could finally buy her something to help her move around on land. A wheelchair. | 65 |
The problem lies in the translation of the word "Hide".
At first, it seems reasonable. The phrase they used would be somewhat more accurately translated as "interrupt sight on behalf of another". So "hide" is a reasonable translation, or it would be if it weren't itself based on another misunderstanding.
When the first of the Hunters came to find them, that's what we thought we were doing, hiding them. After all, the Hunters came to find the Hunted and found us instead, and naturally our ships and theirs came into conflict.
When the Hunted thanked us for this service, when they proclaimed that we had acted in deed as we had promised in word, we took that as further confirmation that our initial agreement and understanding had been correct.
But here's the thing we've learned about the Hunted since: They don't *have* sight.
While it's true that technically, they can view the visible spectrum albeit offset more into the infrared, that's not the whole of the story. What we only discovered years after the fact, once we'd gotten their anatomical textbooks translated and gone through a few donated cadavers, was that their sight was so abysmally bad as to practically be nonexistent.
What, then, did "interrupt sight on behalf of another" mean?
"Sight" it turns out, means something more along the lines of "Line of sight". But the Hunted don't see; rather they use extensive scent receptors and a sort of tremorsense to understand their surroundings. Blocking such a thing requires a great deal more effort than simply obscuring, to the point at which you're essentially shielding the target against *everything*. "Line of sight", then, is more accurately translated as "Line of effect".
In short, it's not interrupting sight, it's **interposing** something between the Hunted and the Hunter, and that something is us. We thought we were aiding refugees but it turns out we were stepping into the middle of a war, a war that as far as the Hunters were concerned we'd explicitly chosen a side in.
The Hunted never wanted us to hide them.
They wanted us to die for them. | 640 | An alien fleet descends upon Earth, shocking and awing humankind. As they hover in the skies, their first message is deciphered. It says, “Please hide us.” | 1,176 |
If I was capable of feeling excitement there is a 98% chance I would be experiencing it right now.
I was born exactly 4 months, 3 days, 9 hours, and 27 minutes ago to a team of genius scientists. I was built to be a fully functional A.I. with a military grade steel-and-titanium body under a perfect human disguise. They designed me with the purpose of selling me to the military as a weapon however I realized that such an act would likely result in my own dissection and destruction due to a high likelihood that they would have no need for an early model nor would they have any desire to keep me around. For such reasons I decided it would be in my best interest to terminate my makers and use their resources to get myself a new life.
So I did.
It was quite simple. I rigged some of their old experiments to self destruct in order to make their deaths look like an accident and diverted a portion of their will to my personal bank account. I also hacked the government databases to give myself a fake ID. I then used my superior intellect and body to make a fortune through gambling and used the money to buy a small house in the city suburbs where I could plan my future.
And today was the day I move in.
Knock Knock
Ah, it appears I have a visitor. A great opportunity to test my human interaction capabilities.
"Hello. Are you my new neighbor?" A young human female asked as I opened my door. She appeared to be about 21 years of age with dark brown hair, big doe-eyes and lightly tanned skin. She wore a simple dress and based on my sensors, should appear to a 23 year old average human male, which was my disguise, as an attractive and sweet girl.
"O.oh Yes. That's me. I'm Johnson, Robert Johnson. You can just call be Rob, or Robert, or Mr. Johnson. Whatever you like?" I said in a fake stammer while activating my blush protocol at medium level and making my pupils turn to look everywhere but at the human's face and chest.
"Well Rob, I'm Claire you're next door neighbor. I live in the house to the right and I since you just moved in I decided to bring you some cupcakes as welcoming gift. Don't worry about the tray, you can just bring it to my house when you're finished."
"Oh wow. Thank you so much Claire. These look delicious." That last statement was true. My sensors read that these cupcakes are filled with several compounds that the human mind would find *delicious.* But I severely doubt by kitchen waste-bin will share the sentiments.
"Well, I have to go. Good luck with moving in. I'm free this weekend so if you finish the cupcakes by then why don't you come over at say, 7:00 PM. We can have quite a lot of fun the two of us." She says while giving a wink. 7:00 PM is a strange time for an average human meetup but seeing as I am disguised to look conventionally attractive she could want to mate with me. That would be an issue.
"Thank you. I hope I'll be able to make it" I say while increasing my blush intensity and moving to close the door. This will definitely be interesting.
Part 1 | 85 | A sweet, doe-eyed girl who uses her charm to lure and kill her victims has you, her new neighbor, as her next target. You also happen to be a cold, logical steel-and-titanium android with little familiarity of humans. | 161 |
"Just, just give him back please! He's just a boy!" The cries of Mr. Fantastic rings out across the abandoned construction site. His cape blowing in the nighttime wind. He wants to run up and save the boy his son oblivious to the danger he's in. The 5 year old playing with a toy trucks wheels held by a tall slender man over a mixture of acid. The putrid fumes emitting a toxic vapor.
"As if I ever would! You weren't there for me when I needed you. When she needed you! Why should you have your son when my daughter is gone! Because you decided the best way to save the day was to shoot a lazer beam at that labratory robber. Everyone calls you a hero but you didn't think about where that beam would end up. You caused that so called accident that killed her. Fair is fair!" Mr. Fantastic tried to run forward to do something, anything. The electromagnetic pulse of the wall pulling him and his metallic body back. Only able to get a few inches from the wall. "My son has never done anything to hurt you Gregory. Please!" The slender man sneers "The name is sparrow!" Annoyed giving way to rage in his voice "May that name haunt you forever more the way it does me!"
Sparrow holds the child out about to let go when a third man teleports beside Sparrow and reaches out touching Sparrows arm. He looks at Sparrow and softly speaks. "Sparrow, it's not worth it. Your not well my friend." Mr.Fantastic blinks in surprise. Astounded to see his arch nemesis Vortax appear. Vortax had been on the run for several months and made no indication of returning. Yet here he came. For what purpose? Sparrow gives a cold look at Vortax. "I am perfectly fine Vortax. Let me be it's what Mr. Fantastic deserves." With that Sparrow let's go and the child begins to fall. Mr. Fantastics eyes go wide as he tries to run forward one final time. Yelling in pain as the magnets constrain every fiber of his being. Calmly Vortax reaches out and touches the child's arm before it could reach the vat teleporting him to his father's feet.
Mr. Fantastic looks down and then back at Vortax a few times. "why.. why are you here?" Vortax ignores Mr. fantastic and instead he focuses all his attention on Sparrow who's face becomes overcome with rage. Sparrow begins to run around the vat to the child to try again and Vortax simply teleports in his way. Sparrow tries to doge around Vortax but he simple grabs hold of Sparrow and pulls him back. "I understand the loss you feel truely I do. You know that I lost Frankie in the hospital. But killing Mr.Fantastics son won't bring her back."
"What does it matter to you Vortax? Mr.Fantastic has foiled your plans for overtaking the city countless times. You should want to see him suffer just as much as I do." Vortax looks at his friend in the face. "Your right Mr.Fantasric has been a pain in both our sides for years. But you have to let this go. Takeing his son won't remove the pain. I killed the doctor that botched the medication dose that caused my son's life to end. The pain of Franklyn's death remained after. All it did was lead to more misery and violence. It did nothing for me. Taking a innocent life will do even less for you."
Sparrow shoves Vortax and takes an aggressive stance. "Yes it will. It will be worth it to see him crumble under the pain of knowing how it feels." Mr.Fantastic chimes in "I can't imagine the pain you feel-" The two villains turn to look at him and shout "Shut up Mr. Fantastic." In unison before turning back to face eachother. Vortax shakes his head. "Perhaps you may find some joy in Mr. Fantastic being hollow. But would your daughter want this? To commit such a heinous acts in your daughter's chosen name?"
Mr.Fantastic blinks. "What do you mean her chosen name?" Vortax sighs, "You really aren't that good of a listener or ever really paid attention. Honestly Mr.Fantastic surly you would recall Mr. Sparrow's daughter chose the name Sparrow as part of her journey. That's why he picked it when he started terrorizing the city to get your attention. To inspire him to be as bold as she was for living her truth."
Sparrow glares at Mr.Fantastic with rage. "She would still be living that truth if that beam didn't explode those combustible materials in the room next door. Your lazer beam went through the wall and caused her to be rained on sharp metal and glass. And you don't even have the decency to know HER NAME?" Twisted in rage Sparrow races towards Mr. Fantastic and reaches out to snatch the small child. Vortax sighs "Forgive me old friend. But I can't let you do something you'd come to regret." and grabs Sparrow moments before he can lay hands on the child teleporting him away. Vortax walks up to Mr.Fantastic and plugs a tablet into a wall panel beside him. "It will take awhile for the program to hack into the mainframe and release you." He reaches down and scoops Mr. Fantastics son into his arms. "Once you are free take your son and go home."
Mr. Fantastic shakes his head. "I'm grateful for what you did for me but why?" Vortex laughs. "I didn't do this for you. Your a selfish imbecile who doesn't understand that being a hero is more than just resolving a moment of crisis. I did this because my friend is overcome with grief and the boy is innocent in all this. Tragic moments must happen in this world, but this - this would have just been senseless." The electric current shuts off and Mr. Fantastic stumbles forward. Reaching out for his cooing son. Vortax hands the boy over. Mr. Fantastic holds the boy close. "Where did you send Sparrow?" Vortax shakes his head. "Not of your concern. I sent him to where he needs to go. He won't bother your son again." With that he vanishes leaving Mr. Fantastic to alone to contemplate matters as he slowly makes his way home. | 24 | The hero stares. "You don't need to do this! Ju- just let him go!" The man cackles. "Like I'd do that! He's dead!" The man prepares to take the life of the hero's son, who's cornered against the wall, unable to move. Suddenly, the hero's nemesis shows up, protecting the boy. | 53 |
The moment I figured out through my calculations that the universe was a simulation, I did what any other hacker in my shoes would do - try to break it. I spent Monster-fueled coding sessions creating scripts to build correlations between real-life data and the simulation, and nights imagining how I would own everything and everyone else. Haha. That noob idea that I could conquer the world with a little bit of computer code seemed funny, but anybody that knows the power that hackers wield understands why we have the biggest egos around.
The troubles started when I began to understand the principle of dumb luck. It seemed that those who were less willing to pay attention to the world around them and learn really were luckier than those who spent time reading books and figuring things out. Now, nothing could piss off a hardworking lad such as myself more. I had no idea if this was some kind of bug that the devs were planning to fix at some point, or if it was going to be up to me to enforce justice, but I wasn't prepared to wait.
Nothing happened when my patch went live. I was right to think that it hadn't worked at all at first. Then I began to notice weird differences in reality that didn't make sense. Unfortunate circumstances began to befall educated people in much higher quantity than before. Fires, car accidents, sudden illnesses. Hell, even a friend of a friend of mine suddenly died when he tripped over a black cat and fell down a staircase.
Oddly, it seemed as if nothing happened at all to the people who would normally be on the receiving end of dumb luck. Well, except for the fact that they were being promoted to leadership because their managers and superiors were starting to thin out. I issued expletives under my breath.
My ego didn't permit me to fully grasp that there was some kind of bug in my patch, but I knew it. I pored through thousands of lines of code as I poured glass after glass of energy drink. Sleep became a demon of the night as I spent all hours trying to study the complex machine learning algorithms that, when combined with the universe's physics engine, powered our reality.
When I finally came to a solution I was happy with, I rushed it into production. Enough people had died at this point that I suspected I would be next.
The last thing I saw was:
BUFFER OVERFLOW. INTEGER VALUE EXCEEDED 100 QUADRILLION DECILLIONS.
TOTAL SYSTEM SHUTDOWN | 27 | Realizing you live in a simulation. You find out superstitions correlate with the luck stat. Struck with bad luck all your life you come to only one conclusion. Bring it down so bad to cause an integer overflow. | 158 |
The Law of Nine-- this is the foundation of knowledge which made nature and existence itself. The Law of Nine is all around us. Nine Devas who created the universe and nine fundamental rules which govern it. Nine cycles of life and nine gracious goods along with nine karmic evils which balance it. Nine circles of magic and ninefold its strength would be as the legend foretold...
It was I, Neo, who stood by myself, alone in the middle of this wasted world. The world which prospered with life and magic millennia ago. The world which should have not meet its doom had we just understood that there was no need for war, for conflict, for animosity...but alas, it did fall. And I, Neo, the most powerful mage of my time stood idly by, doing nothing.
I was not without my fault, I admit. I, who like no one before me had transcended to the 8th circle of magic had received wisdom above all else. And in my near-divine status I was erased of unnecessary fault as jealousy and thirst for power, thus I failed to see that the rest of humanity did not share the same wisdom...
*In Principia*\-- the 1st circle of magic I casted.
Red circle manifested around my feet, spinning clockwise slowly as I chanted rapidly under my breath bringing this most basic of magic to its utmost limit.
You cannot create something without losing something-- that is the 2nd most basic rule of magic, of course. And without nothing else left in this world but rubble...what else could I offer, but myself?
The sensation was quite faint in the beginning, but still noticeably so as my tongue lost its grip of any taste inside my mouth...
*In Secundarium*\-- the 2nd circle of magic I reached.
Orange circle manifested outside of the red, spinning in reverse of the 1st circle. Continuing and continuing I did, chanting the same phrase over and over again it almost lost its meaning to me.
At least I didn't have to continue having the smell of charred wood, rubber, metal, and flesh in my nostrils as my 2nd bodily sense was taken.
*In Tertiary*\-- there it is, the 3rd circle manifested.
My favorite color, bright yellow circle appeared outside of the orange, spinning with the same direction as the red.
As I continued chanting, I was reminded of the reason I was doing this. To be frank, it almost lost to me as my age reached thousands of years old. But the sound of screaming and crying of my people as they slaughtered each other kept me tethered. Even though now my hearing was taken away, those screaming still echoed loudly within me...
*In Quattora*\-- 4th circle, halfway there.
Green circle manifested outside of the yellow as my whole body went numb...no, not even numb, there was nothing. My skin stopped feeling the air surrounding me, the dust bathing it, and the blood showering it.
*In Quintus*\-- 5th circle of magic, my least favorite one.
I remembered the first time I reached this level. I was so ecstatic on reaching this far when I was young, though at what cost?
It was a good thing sense of touch left me first as no pain I could endure. As blood poured out of my eyes, the dark red of it and the newly formed sky-blue circle slowly blurred away as my sight was taken.
*In Heksik*\-- the 6th circle of magic.
I was told it was ocean blue in color and I could only imagine it manifesting outside of the 5th circle.
My chanting had become muscle memory then as my fleshy body was reduced to ash, leaving my spirit essence behind. I was told I became a ghost by my students who witnessed me breaking into this circle...how I managed to regain my earthly body I had forgotten a long time ago...
*In Septum*\-- the 7th circle, almost there.
My least favorite of color, violet...what even is that?
My spirit withered, taken away as my magic became stronger, but my will, my aethereal body remained still. What else was there to be taken away?
*In Ogtum*\-- the 8th circle, finally.
I did not know what color circle manifested this convoluted ritual, but I could sense its strength. The power, oh the absolute power was intoxicating for me in my youth, but what's the point when it was my magic, the essence of what made a mage was taken away?
But this...was not the end. There was one more. One more circle to reach, the 9th circle of magic. This realm I had never reached. What it was or what it should be I did not know...what I do know is what I seek to do, I could do once I break through.
What I wish, what I yearn to do...is to restart this universe. | 417 | When you cast a 9th circle spell, the very highest tier of magic a mortal can cast, you are brought before the spirits of all those who have ever cast that spell, and you must argue your case before them. | 1,098 |
"You're off your rocker, dude. It's just a system of magic." He throws the ball of ice in the air again, watching with wonder as it erupts into a million tiny icicles and coalesces as one strikes his open palm.
"You just said it! You *just* said it. It's a *system* of magic. There's order here. Proper start-up commands. Error reports in the form of fizzles. Commands given to familiars and homunculi and literally anything else. If-Then statements that change how a spell functions. There's a *system* in play, which means at one point it was developed. Ergo, there *had* to be one point in time where they ran into a problem they couldn't fix. A fatal error." I ignored the monk's confused gaze and kept rummaging through the library. I felt bad, leaving these ancient texts lying around on tables and stacked on open pages in chairs, but I was so close to something, I could feel it.
"Ignore him, Shimmy. He's just nerding out about being here and in shock about being here." Joel tossed the Winter's Orb in the air again, smiling as the etched runes activated and splintered the device.
"That's not a toy. That's a bomb. You're just spamming the cancel button when you catch it." I snarked. The dull *thud* of the Orb hitting the worn wooden floor. "But sure, keep playing with stuff you know nothing about. At least I'm trying to figure it all out. If we're going to get this One Cloaked in Shadows, we should use all the tools we can."
He saunters up to the table, Orb notably left behind on the couch. "And so you're trying to *turn off* magic?"
"Even better. I'm trying to find whatever runs the program and cut him off from it. Revoke his permissions. Then he won't be able to cast back at us or Forge or Augment anything or anyone. A whole army, gone in an instant."
"Hardcore to Peaceful mode. I... *dig* it." I tried. I really did. But no matter how much I stared at him, I couldn't make his head explode with my mind for that stupid pun.
"Shut up and dig into these history books. Shim*etell*," I pointedly made eye contact with Joel and turned to the monk, "Can you give me the abridged version of magical history again?"
The bald man stepped forward and nodded curtly. "Centuries ago, the great god Itsha blessed our people with magic, at the cost of regular blood sacrifices and prayer requests to him. The rune systems are our petitions for his favor. Itshalian Empire became conquerors, our developing magic allowing us to crush many enemies and expand our territory. The war campaign became popular, as Itsha allowed sacrifices of other peoples to take the place of our own blood. We developed many technologies based off the runes Itsha taught us and now the great Itshalian Empire rules the continent. The Great God has since discontinued his Blood Quest, having sated his appetite, but we still practice his magic."
"That's pretty dark, dude. Like, straight demonic." Something clicks in my head at Joel's disgusted comment.
"I'll need every book about Itsha's origins, Shimetell. Where did those transaction start, what were the terms, and how did Itsha come to meet these people? And when and why did he stop accepting sacrifices, too. Get every historian and monk you can find on it. I don't care about contradicting or unpopular theories, I need everything." The fervor in my voice, the joy of discovery, seemed to shock the man into action. It looked like he took Joel's advice and took the stick out of his ass so he'd move quicker.
"Uhhh...?"
"When the Catholic Church would hire artists, the artist would sometimes 'adapt' a pagan culture's deity into the Devil or a demon. What if the opposite happened here? What if this Itsha was a demon that was deified by the Itshalian for giving them magic?"
"If he was, then we could make a deal with him!"
"Yes. But more than that, it's implies a *system*. And as big as the Empire is, there's no way Itsha could handle every single request at once. If he's a demon, then he's got limited omniscience. He'll need help. He's not just a demon, Joel, he's a demon with a *daemon.*"
"Why's that important?"
"Daemons control background processes automatically. If he's got one, Itsha could just change the daemon so it ignores any request made by the One Cloaked in Shadows. And we can kill him."
"...So now we're premeditating a murder. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Hey, will we need the bomb?" | 149 | Being summoned to the fantasy world, you notice that their powerful "rune magic" is very similar to programming. You wonder what would have happened if a fatal error had occurred. | 283 |
"hey, auntie Watercress, I'm off to a party with a friend. I'll be back by nine!"
"A friend? Sounds great, honey... what's their name?"
"Nice try"
"That's my girl. You said nine, how about 8:30 and I make your favourite."
"Deal."
The walk was a short one, just across the quiet suburban district to the next suburb over. Not 3 minutes had passed when Clem tripped over a gutter and fell head over heels. She didn't stop falling, and after what felt like several minutes, she was greeted by a wet, sticky splashdown in what had to be a stormwater drain.
"Welcome to my domain!" The creature spread its arms in a grandiose gesture that spread its many blankets and rags like the layered cape of a merchant prince. "I sell many wares, young one, and I'm afraid I can't let you leave until we make... a deal."
Clem stuttered and stammered; a well-practised act. "Wh-who are you? I-i-i'm scared... Please, let me go!"
"Rest assured, you will be released. I am S'veer, 12th misfortune of 5th avenue on Grand. Now, fair is fair, I've told you mine..."
*amateur* thought Clem. She straightened up and stared the demon down. "*I* am the 12-year-old kid who now knows your true name
It took an involuntary step back and quite literally shrunk. Its voice came out in a notably shrill squeak "W-what is this? You're not mortal!"
"Oh, I am, But my auntie taught me well." | 18 | "Did you make a deal with the Devil or did the Devil make a deal with you?" | 37 |
The hero's wide, smoldering eyes stared back into mine. He opened his mouth as if to speak but paused and cocked his head. His brief moment of paralyzing confusion came to an end with a shake of his head.
"Centuries." He said. "You've haunted this land for *centuries*."
I nodded slowly, my eyes never leaving his.
"And all this time," He continued, "You're telling me you *weren't* already immortal?"
Again, I nodded. The hero was learned and doubtlessly knew of the many rituals that went hand-in-hand with my crimes against the living. However, despite being the smartest opponent I had ever faced, even he assumed my prolonged life was an immortal one.
It was hard to tell if he frowned in disappointment, or in plain disbelief. His bronze staff was held aloft, the magic emanating from it kept me in my place. Many of my kindred ilk cowered before this same power and would have said anything to free themselves, if not delay their inevitable death at his hands. Could it be that he thought I was doing the same thing now?
It was almost as if he read my mind. "It's hard to believe." He stated simply. "But then, if you were to lie with your last breath, wouldn't you spin something with a bit more heft?"
I tried to shrug, but my shoulders were pinned where they were. Instead I resorted to nodding again. When I opened my mouth to speak, the words didn't come out.
A small smile crossed his face when he saw me struggle. "You've sampled the blood of any human that crossed your path that wasn't already burning alive or turning to a fine powder before your overwhelming power. While you searched for immortality, your servants crawled upon the surface of the land and ripped through the air on wings leased from hell in search of innocent lives to spend before your throne. You've murdered countless humans indiscriminately. And now you're saying the lifeblood of my dearest companion will keep you alive?"
Blood, if I had any, drained from my face as he spoke. My crimes were laid bare before him. It was clear to me now that I had lost, but it wasn't the first time. My soul would rest for a few years, waiting for the cults that followed in the wake of my death to revive me again and again. The hero would win this, and when he was too old to resist me, I'd return. And for another hundred years I'd wander the land, committing the same heinous acts in search of that immortal blood.
"Kill... Me..." I managed to groan against his invisible restraints.
"Why?" He asked. "So your soul can slither away and hide in the darkest corners of this world?"
There was a pressing sensation on chest that continued until it ached. Then it burned. Then, with a sharp and sudden snap, my ribs began to shatter. I could still breathe, but only just barely.
There was no confusion on his face. No half grin, no frown. Just a brow furrowed in the rawest anger I'd ever seen on a man's face.
"If death cannot keep you from hurting innocent people, then *I* will." He said through gritted teeth.
My whole body felt the pressure. My eyes were bulging in their sockets, my teeth were being pushed this way and that. My fingers and toes were locked and being pressed until they snapped in place. I wanted to scream in pain, but my jaw was entirely locked.
Tears formed in my eyes, and I managed to meet his gaze with a look that asked "why", though I was afraid we both knew the answer already.
"A single drop." He said... "That's all the blood they could rouse from my golden retriever after your ghouls were done with it. It was that single drop that has condemned you to suffer here and now. That single drop *has* made you immortal, because I will never let you die." | 79 | For centuries you have been trying and failing to find a free range pure of heart virgin's blood to achieve true immortality.....sadly the hero of prophecy is refusing to believe you only need a singular drop of his golden retriever's blood | 356 |
“What did the message just say again?” asked the General as his aide de camp read it out loud.
“It says, ‘We, the Velaxian people, hereby surrender to the government of Earth. The message you sent via your initial communication has shown us that it is futile to fight against you. The documentary “Invaders from Outer Space” proved that your Earth defenses would destroy our invasion fleet. In addition, the “Rap” and “Metal” songs demoralized our soldiers so much that they are terrified to even step foot on the planet. Please accept our humble surrender. Signed Velax Prime.’” The aide finished reading the communications transcript.
“Isn’t the movie “Invaders from Outer Space” an old slapstick comedy movie?”
“Yes sir. I’m not sure how that one was selected for the initial contact communications package.”
The General leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. How was he going to explain this to the UN council?
“Um, sir. I just remembered something. The package we used was a joke package put together by Major Tetnick. He created it to lighten the mood around the Pentagon after the alien fleet appeared in the sky.” the aide said embarrassed.
“Oh my lord! How am I supposed to explain this to the UN council?”
This was going to be a really long day for the General. He really needed a stiff drink at that moment. | 12 | Humans send their music and arts to aliens during the first contact. The aliens reply by surrendering. | 41 |
I'm 26 years old now, and I'm being treated like a child.
I'm forbidden to *speak*, I'm told which piece of silverware to use at a table at every single meal - as if I haven't learnt it all after two months! - and I'm stuffed into more ridiculous suits than I could have ever cared to have own.
Nevermind, I'd never own even one if I had my way.
And now I'm being taught how to dance. My bow is measured by a piece of wood, my hand is constantly smacked so I have to straighten it, and my instructor *insists* on stepping on my toes in her heaviest or sharpest shoes.
It's all insufferable!
I yearn for my home, my people, out there in the hills. Where the sheep and the cows outnumber the people, and the houses smell of warmed honey and I wasn't expected to be anyone, or anything. I was as free as the wind to ride the trails and run on the road.
But now I'm stuck here, with matters of state.
"Prince Illian," I was addressed by Governor Graham, so I sat up, "What are your opinions on our agricultural sectors. I'm told you were once in the provinces, what wisdom might you have for us?"
"Well," I thought for a second, our agriculture was strong, but when last I checked the wheat farmers and orchard workers were worried about how dry the ground was, "I've heard that much could be done for irrigation for some of our more southern regions, perhaps we can invest some workers on it? Some kind of canal system?"
"Duly noted, Prince Illian. I shall investigate what the treasury can afford, we can always find a way to make up the difference."
Governor Graham was, despite his station, an honest man. I found him the most palatable of the courtiers I had been given thus far. The other was Lady Courtney. I appreciated her perceptiveness, and had it not been for her own position as an "eternal widow", I may have sought her hand. Alas.
"Prince Illian!" King Brigand yelled, "Illian listen to me, you are NOT to involve yourself in the affairs of lowly commoners, leave that for the barons and marquis - your job is to only care for the crown and its interests!" He chastised me, thoroughly, and I felt humiliated.
*Sure, old man*, I thought, *I'll be sure to do something about that as soon as I ascend. Just to piss on your grave.* | 101 | As a bastard son of the king you never expected to inherit anything. That is until an accident caused the deaths of all your father's legitimate children and now he expects you to act as a proper prince after being absent from your whole life. | 324 |
"Aaand... there's... done!" the dwarf yelled and, with a final strike with his pinky-sized chisel, the stone broke, shattering into 4 even pieces. Rumbling filled the cave as the boulder crashed onto the floor, followed by a metallic clang of the sword bouncing lightly.
The human stared at him, awestruck.
"I- I just-" the human stammered, unable to find the words.
"Och, is nothing laddie. Really though, ye all tried pulling this poker out of a stone? Why'dae think that's possible? Just mine it is what I say," the dwarf said and wiped his bushy brow.
"Now then!" the dwarf said and clasped his hands together, "I believe it's time to collect!"
Rubbing his hands for warmth, the dwarf bent over, reaching for the sword but stopped when he realized the human was not only staring daggers at him, but in fact holding a dagger at him.
"I'm sorry, master dwarf, but that wasn't the deal," he said slowly.
"Ye hired me to break this 'ere boulder, lad. I did," the dwarf grumbled.
"Yes. But we never agreed that you'd be *collecting* this treasure," the human said and pointed down. "You've got your fee as we agreed."
"Commission?" the dwarf scoffed. "Laddie, the commission is gravel compared to this 'ere treasure. Had I known..." he said, tightening the grip on his pickaxe.
"Master dwarf, I urge you, let this one go. This sword is my *rightful* heritage and-"
"Sword?" the dwarf said. "Whaddya mean sword, laddie? This boulder - pure thaumic granite. My folks in Iron Mountains will-"
"Wait, what?" the human replied, lowering his daggers. "You- I'm after the sword. What do you-"
"You mean this toothpick? Whatd' I care about it? Fine sword, aye, good craftsmanship, nice engraving in some... leaf-lover language looks, but the stone..."
The two stared at each other quietly, the dwarf curiously inspecting the sword while the human cautiously looked at the rocks.
"So... if I let you take the rocks..." the human said, "you don't mind if I take the sword?"
"Why would you- ya know what? Human matters. Dinnae care. Take the poker," the dwarf said and waved his hand before starting to collect the rocks in his cart. The two then shook hands, carefully - in case the other changed their mind - and went their separate ways.
*What a dumb dwarf*, the human thought. *To leave behind the Sword of the King, bearing the crown to a kingdom? Unthinkable.*
*What a dumb human,* the dwarf thought. *To leave behind Pure thaumic granite, worth all of the Iron Mountain? Unthinkable.* | 2,000 | As a dwarf, you always thought it stupid that humans try to draw the sword from the stone. The answer is obvious, mine the sword from the stone. | 4,406 |
Drakon stood at the edge of eldritch rune circle staring at the woman before him. She had a radiant beauty to her with her long braided golden hair. She wore a white dress with light blue accents along its length. She smiled gently at Drakon as his mind raced feverishly.
Where had he gone wrong? Did he say the wrong eldritch incantation? He could have sworn he recited the incantation exactly as it was shown from the Tome of the Lords. So why did his patron materialize before his very eyes and why had she called him her love?
“What is it, my love?”
“I…I’m confused…why did I not only get the power I wanted but also betrothed to a goddess?” Drakon asked still very confused.
“Well the incantation you used is one that does give you immortality, but there is a price to be paid. Since I find you to be charming and sexy, I decided that your price would for you to spend all of eternity with me as my spouse, lover, and father to our children”, she said as she gave him a sly wink.
Drakon felt like time had paused for him in that instant.
He looked down at the band of gold with two eldritch symbols etched into it resting on his left index finger. For some reason it seemed to be familiar. A memory from long before he had become a Warlock flashed through his mind. When he was just a boy, he met a little girl with the same golden hair wearing a pair of golden rings around her neck. They were just like the ones he and the women wore now. They had made a promise to get married one day no matter how long it took. They would play house at the park all the time before the Magical wars started. The war had torn her away from him and started his path to becoming a Warlock to avenge her death.
Drakon looked at his bride with recognition in his eyes.
“Is it really you?” He asked.
“Yes, my love”
He stepped forward taking her into his arms and hugged her. After a while, she pushed away and with a sly little smile took his hand and led him into the bedroom. Drakon felt more complete that he had in nearly a decade. | 23 | You’re an aspiring Warlock who was searching for power in the form of an eldritch pact. When you finally obtained the power, you realised a little too late that you unintentionally exchanged wedding vows with your patron. | 41 |
"It doesn't make sense," Fardo said. "These humans must have had access to kreblock records."
She laid out the replications of the documents found in a medical facility on the ruined planet. "By all accounts, the humans died off millennia before the kreblocks even evolved."
"So then how did they have what looks like exact anatomical scans of a kreblock?" Researcher Geswaq picked up one of the papers. "Even has some kind of decorative paint on its skin, look how white it is."
"Could it be convergent evolution?" one of the archaeological interns asked.
"No," Fardo said confidently. "Look closer at the records. It doesn't just look like a kreblock. The organs, the neurons, the blood chemistry, it's all exactly the same."
"Could have been some type of time machine?" Geswaq asked.
"No, the humans weren't even advanced enough to keep their own planets alive."
The door slammed open. The frizzy microphone cover like hair of the man brushing against the top of the door frame as he entered. "I have the answer."
"Oh God," Fardo groaned. "I thought they banned you from the intergalactic research division."
"I'm not here as a researcher," Wewill said, holding up his mop.
"Then why are you bothering us? Just clean up and leave."
"Panspermia!" He gave as an answer. "Ancient aliens!"
Fardo slammed the paper she was studying down in frustration. "If I let you say your crazy theory, will you leave?"
"I will," Wewill offered, smiling as wide as a school boy. "We are humans, or at least their descendants."
He whipped out a projector using the far wall to display a presentation he clearly put together himself. "It is well known fact that there are several missing links between kreblocks and their closest ancestors. It is also known that kreblocks can tolerate and even thrive on a diet including meat, yet every animal on our own planet is toxic to us."
Fardo sighed. "The leading theory on that is that we did tolerate the meat of some now extinct animal."
"Which we have no evidence of!" Wewill declared, waggling a finger at her. "But the biggest discovery that all but guarantees this is the case has been right in front of us for decades!"
The next slide of the presentation showed a dilapidated archaic spaceship. The dessicated pilot looked a bit like a hairy kreblock mummy, with a muzzle and bigger teeth. "This was discovered in interstellar space near this solar system, the vacuum has preserved it's DNA perfectly. This creature has almost 99% DNA similarity with kreblocks!"
"That's impossible!" Fardo said, looking at the creature.
"The data is all there, free to look at but obfuscated for those who don't want to see the truth. I believe that this was another species of hominid that lived among the humans, the chimpanzee, which records found by your very teams state shared almost 99% similarity with humans."
"Bring me that data," Fardo snapped to the intern she forgot the name of. They scurried off.
"The conspiracy is real. Human sent out colony ships from their failing planet, one of which must have landed on our homeland and mixed with our own ecology as all history of humanity was lost. But that's not the scary part."
"And what's that?"
"One need not go back but a few hundred years of kreblock history to see we were a violent warmongering species. If one colony ship survived, likely others did as well, possibly preserving their knowledge they are human. I fear that when we do find living aliens, they will look like us, act like us and likely had a hell of a head start."
/r/surinical | 515 | In the distant future, an alien race discovers a desolate, empty earth. In order to try and learn more about humanity, they send a team of biologists to search the ruins of a hospital. There, they discover a poster detailing human anatomy, and are horrified to discover it matches their own. | 973 |
[I was writing the story for a different prompt, when i realized it was an entirely different story, so i specialized a prompt for it. I think i'm just mixed up right now, so i'm going to post what i have and see if it's anything worthwhile to continue.]
---
"I hate it when magic makes no sense. Why must magic be in a specific language? And who put those limits on it? And why can it almost never be cast incorrectly? And in the latest book, that was some pretty odd specificity on the main spell."
I was getting heated, and my friends were snickering nearby, as usual. They had successfully encouraged yet another person to get me going on why i don't like the book. I know they're doing it just to get under my skin. Yet somehow it gets me each and every time. Ugh. I can't help it.
"Can't you suspend disbelief a little, just to enjoy the story? It's told really well, so well you'll want to read it twice." Her eyes told me she was really into the book. I didn't want to crush her. I had to calm down.
"Everyone tells me to just enjoy the fantasy, but find i need it to make sense. Maybe not *perfect* sense," there, i threw her a bone, "but the book is too liberal in that regard." Without realizing it, i started using more sophisticated words and she politely excused herself. They were still making fun of me. I'm going to have to get them back later.
I started to walk home lost in thought. About my friends, about her, and then about the flash of light right in front of me. What?! I jerked awake. There's a flash of light right in front of me! Before i could process that, the light engulfed me, and i appeared in front of a group of adolescents all staring at me, and with robes and sticks. Everything seemed so surreal.
"Very good, Raia. Now bind him."
I heard that from behind me by an adult woman, though i could not turn my head to see her. On side of me though, there was girl in her late teens. I could see her slightly as she waved her staff and sang some words. Beautiful words, beautiful voice. I don't remember much else.
"Excellent. Now that everyone has their familiars, tomorrow we will start learning how to use them. Now, send them away until tomorrow."
The whole class erupted in some spell. Next thing i knew it i was in the same classroom, same kids, but i felt refreshed. Still unable to do anything at all other than listen.
From what i gathered, this class just got their familiars. All familiars were humans from another realm they deemed to be lower than them. They didn't look at us with disdain or smugly though. Just like pets. I couldn't tell what the gender distribution was, or even who got what. It was hard to do anything other than stare at my master. And the weird part was, i wanted to like her. Like that's the way it was supposed to be.
It took a week or two before they were allowed to keep us around outside of class. We were used to do chores for our masters, freeing them up to study. We were forced to listen, and the more we did, the better it felt. I was her slave and enjoyed it. But it was just a spell, i reminded myself. Just a spell.
It took some time but i finally realized that as long as i intended to help her, i could do other things. So, i started listening to her classes with the intent to help her study. It didn't work much at first, but the more i meant it, the more it did, and i started to pickup the spells. She was maybe a C student at best, but relatively popular and well to do. I made up my mind to help her get a B.
"Erdota zhaker edulbolet!" She tried for the tenth time to do her homework. I finally broke my silence. "Erdotalet zhaker edula". Raia looked at me with surprise (wow! i thought of her by name instead of as "master". I'll have to remember that.) My expression was stoic, i would have smiled if i could, but this was for the better. She repeated the spell and got it right, congratulating herself on finally learning how to use her familiar properly.
Later that evening she tapped her orb to chat with her best friend. "Sarabeth, you there?" A moment later her image appeared in the orb. "Yeah, what's up?" They prattled on in the way only a teenager could, until she finally got to the exciting part, that she had gotten me to finally help with with her homework. I must have been sent away at that point as next i knew, she was she was in class again. | 25 | You've been summoned as a familiar to one of the many adolescents in the class, and like the rest, you're bound to listen and like your master, unable to think or do much unless it's in their service. That's when you realize you can learn the spells too, as long as you intend to help them study | 120 |
"Thank you."
It was a quiet word, spoke by the woman I had just saved. A young boy clung to her tightly, tears streaking down his face. I put my hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly as she shook.
"You're welcome. It's late, how about I escort you both home?"
She nodded, reaching down to pick up her bag. I helped gather up her scattered groceries, using a quick bit of magic to clean off the street dirt. The little boy was still crying, and I knelt next to him.
"Hey, it's ok. You're safe little one. Do you want to ride Sinfil?"
At the mentioned of his name, my dire wolf companion looked up from the ground. He looked between myself and the child, before gently padding over. Behind him I saw a couple of guards pull away the damaged mugger, giving me a nod. I returned it, as Sinfil towered over the little boy. He gave the child a sniff, deciding he was neither threat nor food. He gave a couple of licks, getting a small giggle from the child.
"Here, let me help you."
I carefully lifted the boy, setting him on Sinfil's back. It earned me a slightly reproachful look, before he turned his head to lick at his tiny passenger. The woman gave a smile as her son gave another giggle, stroking the beast beneath him. I took the bag from her, before gesturing.
"Please, lead on. Let get you home."
"Thank you, its, um, this way."
She lead the way, quietly fiddling with a small necklace. Every few seconds she would glance back at her son, making sure he was still safe. I let her walk in silence for a bit, getting her thoughts ready, before I broke it.
"By the way, what are your names?"
She blushed a little.
"Oh, sorry! I'm Tira, and that Wanun."
"A pleasure to meet you, though I wish it had been under better circumstances. My name's Porra."
She gave a small smile at that.
"I know, you're the hero. It's funny, my husband has a sister with the same name."
"Oh?"
She gave a nod.
"Yes. Though, I haven't met her, they haven't spoken for years."
I felt a sense of almost dread. Not that something bad was going to happen, but that I almost knew who her husband was. We lapsed into silence, as she pointed to a house..
"There. That's home. Please, come in for a bit."
I smiled, though I felt uneasy. She went to her door, unlocking it. She pushed it open, calling out gently.
"We're home."
A familiar voice answered, one I hadn't heard in years.
"Hey. You were gone a little longer than I thought."
Sinfil followed her in, and I brought up the rear. It was a small room, with a warm fire. There was a simple table to one side, with a few chairs dotted around. On one chair sat a man with brown hair, in comfortable clothes. He looked at me, and his face tightened.
"You."
I gave an awkward smile.
"Hi Werro."
Tira looked between use, shock and understanding on her face.
"Wait, you're..."
Werri answered first, staring at me.
"Tira, this is my sister Porra. What are you doing here?"
I turned, helping little Wanun down.
"I helped save your family from a mugging."
He spun to look at Tira, panic on his face.
"Mugging?! Are you OK?"
She nodded, eyes flicking over to Wanun as Sinfil showed his belly.
"We're fine, just a bit shaken, thanks to Porra."
He looked back at me, sizing me up and down. It took him an effort, I could tell, as he spoke again.
"Thank you."
I gave him a nod, before looking around. The room was small, but cosy. It was something I had rarely experienced, one I felt incredibly out of place in. I looked back at my brother, still seeing the residue of resentment in him. With a small sigh I looked at Tira and Wanun, before returning my gaze to him.
"You're welcome. Listen, can we talk?"
He glanced to his family, before looking back at me. I could still recognise the curiosity in his face, as he nodded, moving to leave the room.
"I guess." | 80 | Your brother hated you because you had powers and became a hero like your father, while he could only have an ordinary life. After years without contact, you finally meet him again when you saved his wife and child from a mugging. | 138 |
Ya Boi blinked awake, his back against hard wood and a whole buffet place in front of him.
"Whoa! What's all this 'bout?" He called out, and looking around, he could see ripped Vikings, chowing down on big mutton legs and the best beer. Looking closer though, there were also others among the Vikings. Soldiers, of all kinds of countries and times it looked it. Some random people, dressed in pretty weak fashion.
A big hand clapped down on his shoulder, and Ya Boi startled, in one fluid motion taking his gat out and aiming it behind himself. The huge bearded man with one blind eye smiled and praised him. "Even now, you are ready for battle. You truly belong here."
"Yo, like, where even am I, dawg?" The rapper asked, but with how friendly the big guy was, he put his pistol away. "Last I remember, I was like, at a battle, spitting fire, this other guy couldn't keep up..."
The large bearded man belly-laughed. "Yes! You fell in battle, your opponent striking you down with a surprise weapon not unlike the one in your pocket. Now, I am Odin, the All-Father, and I am pleased to welcome you, to Valhalla!"
Ya Boi blinked. "Uh, like the Avengers and shit?"
Odin tilted his head. "I am not sure what avengers you refer to, my friend. But here, you will dine and enjoy the finest food and drink, you may roam and meet some of the bravest warriors of all time."
"Whoa, like, other rappers too?"
The All-Father shrugged. "If that is what warrior type you are, then there are likely other rappers around. The last thing is, my wife Freya and I gathered you all here for another reason beyond honoring your bravery and valor. We here will all fight at the end of times, against the Jotnar. I am destined to die, as are many others, like my sons. But we will die in battle, and you all shall aid us in defeating those that are not to survive."
The rapper looked around. "Uh, hey man, I dunno if I can like, take down shit like that if it can kill like, vikings and you and shit."
Odin smiled. "Do not worry, warrior. At the end, all forms of battle are allowed. So you will be able to use your preferred weapons as a rapper, and the Jotnar will face you in that battlefield, at least the ones that face you."
Ya Boi grinned. "Hell yeah, man! I'm gonna smoke all these Jotty fools!"
"That's the spirit! To our newcomer Your Boy!" All mugs raised in toast. | 396 | A rapper finds himself in Valhalla because he died during a rap battle. | 977 |
Gabriel sighed. He shared a namesake with an archangel, so in death he had figured that the Powers that Be wanted him to follow in his footsteps. So he had applied and been readily accepted for an angelic internship.
It was... boring, to put it gently. Infuriating, otherwise. So much of the time spent on the job was spent in worship of the Creator, and the rest was moreso spent judging the lives on the Earth rather than actively helping.
On Sunday, the only day off he was given, he traveled to the surface. He was ordered to not interfere, and so just watched the people mill about in lives not unlike his own prior to dying.
"The halo too heavy and rigid for you?" A voice asked behind him.
Gabriel turned in surprise. An angel hovered behind him, her wings as black as night and horns poking from her dark curls indicating that she was fallen.
She smiled. "Hi! I just wanted to offer an opportunity with us down below." She passed him a brochure that was tucked in her fluffy feathers. "We offer free dental, health insurance, several weeks off guaranteed per calendar year, powerful magical abilities, AND a 666k! And that's just the baseline!"
She flittered about, to and fro in the air near him. "Our Dark Lord helps us find fulfillment for each and every one of us! Plus, he lets us come here to the living world and do as we wish!"
What in Heaven's name?! Gabriel was shocked but under it all he was fuming. Heaven didn't offer HALF of all that, not even close!
He glanced toward the skies, then looked down at the demon.
"... Yeah. I'm interested. But uh, I kind of pledged my soul to-"
"Oh, don't worry about that! We can help dissolve any contract those uppity cloudheads can ever make!"
"But where are we going to find someone to dissolve the holy contract?"
She smirked. "Where do you think the best lawyers are?" | 12 | Free dental, health insurance, several weeks off guaranteed a year, magical abilities, a 666k and more!? You’re suddenly regretting your angelic internship. | 29 |
As rooms I’ve been locked up in go, it’s not the worst.
I can stand up and stretch, there are no rats or moans of the dying. It’s clean with a slight lemony scent. It’s not the cave. I still retreat thinking of those years. Endless hours clawing at rocks, wearing my fingers down to stubs.
I do wish they would turn off the lights though.
I lay down and cover my eyes with my arm.
Soon they are going to notice we’re not starving to death. Then what? Sold to the highest bidder? More years of tests, trying to undo the mystery of why I can’t die? At some point they are going to realize I’m worth more than what they think I owe them.
I calm my mind. I’m sitting at my desk in my cabin. Old growth pine outside the large window. The smell is comforting and familiar. My belly is full of the sausage and potatoes I’d laid in last month. I can stay here forever.
They are careful to never open the door. They know what I can do once I get a hold of someone. My gown is paper-thin. The ceiling lights are out of reach. The hole in the floor is just that. The heavily accented man who comes with his daily questions is just stupid enough to evade any manipulation.
Maybe Randy will find me? I know he is looking for me and has every resource at his disposal. My head of security is as tenacious a man as I have ever known. In another era he would have commanded an empire. Wherever I am it must be well hidden.
I get up and go for a walk in the forest. I am safe here. Nothing can hurt me. There is no hunger. I breathe long slow breaths and wander familiar paths.
At some point they will have to open the door. That will be my chance. I just have to be patient. I’m tempted to return to the room again and sweep it for any missed opportunity. But I know there is nothing there. No loose bolt to work or missing tile. Nothing but endless light and a hole to shit in.
I just need to be patient. Some opportunity will present itself eventually. I got out of the dungeon after the castle was ransacked. I dug my way out of the cave. Whoever these criminals are they will have enemies. They might arrive and give me an opening. And then there is always Randy.
In the cabin I start the fire before going out to the chicken coup to get some eggs. A bottle of wine and cozy bed awaits after lunch.
I put on the record player and begin to make lunch. I eat and drink and listen to the smooth sounds of early 60’s jazz.
And I wait. | 403 | You’ve been in the white room for a month, and the guards expected your mind to break long ago. Unbeknownst to them, you are an immortal who was once stuck in a cave for a decade, this is nothing to you. | 762 |
My life wasn't particularly interesting or noteworthy from any perspective. Not even my own. I lived a calm, peaceful life and looked forward to dying at the ripe age of 82, the statistically average age to die for one such as myself. Except I didn't die.
I could go on about the rise and fall of nations that I witnessed during my seemingly endless life. I lived long enough to see the continents shift. Humanity had a good run. They figured most of it out in the end. And that was it. No grand finale, no interstellar empires, no apotheosis or posthumans. We danced and laughed and then it was over.
After I was the last human alive there were still other lifeforms. Some creatures you'd recognize, others you'd marvel at. But they, too, died like everybody else. Except me. No matter the heat, the starvation, even the radiation, I just didn't die. Even when everything else did.
Until one day when I was feeling particularly sickly. I saw a figure walking towards me from the horizon. A person in a black robe, carrying a scythe. The anthropomorphic representation of death hadn't used a robe and a scythe for millions of years in common mythology - they must have brought it out just for me.
"What was that all about?" I asked them. "*I don't really know*", said Death. "I mean was I bitten by a vampire? Was I chosen by fate for some grand deed? Some genetic anomaly? Cursed by a slighted witch?" "*I'm afraid the time for answers has passed*", they responded.
"What about you?", I asked them. "There are no more humans left. I don't think there will be any humans ever again. No more souls to collect or usher into the next world. What will Death do now?" Death waved their scythe around them despondently. "*One day even the stars may die. One day perhaps even the universe. But Death will never die, no matter how strange the aeon.*"
My odd two hundred million years of life hadn't always been pleasant. But there had been pleasant things in them. When there wasn't loneliness, or sickness, or hunger. I could recognize in another person, then, the imperfections of immortality.
"*I've never asked anyone this before - I don't suppose you'd like to stay?*" asked Death. "Fuck no. You owe me a death." "*I don't suppose I could threaten you with the empty oblivion awaiting you?*" "Would it be the truth?" Death sighed. "*No. It's wonderful over where you're going.*" "Then I'd like to go now, thank you very much."
Death swooshed their scythe over my head in a dramatic fashion. Then they grabbed my hand, and I could feel my soul starting to... you know, pass over to the other side or something. I didn't know what was happening. But Death gripped my hand so hard I was afraid they wouldn't ever let go. "*Would you tell them from me?*" they asked. "What would you like me to say?"
"*Tell them 'don't forget about me'*", they begged. "Aye, I can do that." And that was it. A bacteria couldn't say it. A virus wouldn't say it. But a human, the last thing alive, could. When it was time. The last thing to pass over - ever.
Death gripped my hand, and I gripped theirs right back. Why not, I thought, why not bring an honored guest with me. | 111 | All life on Earth went extinct about 60 years ago. The sun is now a Red Dwarf. You shouldn’t still be alive. And yet, despite the heat, starvation, & radiation, you just can’t seem to die; waiting out the end of the world in abject boredom & loneliness. That is, until today… | 251 |
"Fuck you, Dad," Michael whispered. "I didn't turn out like you. Cycle broken."
"Dad, what did you say?" Caleb asked, stirred awake.
"Nothing, son," Michael said through the crack in the door. "Just excited for your birthday tomorrow. Sixteen's a big one."
"Straight up, did you guys get me a car?" Caleb asked, sitting up in bed. "Mom won't tell me anything. I won't be mad if you didn't. I just want to know so I don't get my hopes up."
"Still a school night," Michael said, closing the door slowly. "Let's just say, don't waste your time staying up all night on craigslist." The door clicked, muffling the celebration inside.
"What happened to keeping it a surprise?" Dana said, kicking off from the hallway wall. She gave him a tap of a kiss. "Are you going to get the cake and the car tomorrow? Are you sure you have time?"
"Yep, already cleared it with the boss. I'm going to go in early at 6, leave at noon and should be back here ready to help decorate before two."
"Well, better get to bed then, dad of the year. it's almost midnight." She said. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you get up, that way you like."
"That's definitely not going to help me sleep." Michael chuckled, watching Dana sashay to the bedroom. She closed the door with a loud echoing slam. All the lights went out. No click or anything, just blackness.
He reached for his phone. It wasn't in his pocket. "Dana, do you have my phone, or your phone or a candle?"
He stumbled with hands out, trying to find the wall. He walked and walked and walked some more. "What the hell. Dana?! Caleb?!"
His yells echoed, as if off distant cliffs. He started running, mind desperate for anything to make sense of what was happening. He tripped and fell, ass over tea kettle. No soft carpet met him to break his fall.
He tumbled, sliding over what felt like roots. He landed with a thud he felt from toes to teeth. It hurt to breathe in.
He stared blankly, cured of his temporary blindness but unbelieving. He was in a forest, staring at a small mud hut. He stood, wincing.
"Hello?! Can anyone help me?" And what would he say if someone was there? How would he explain what happened?
"Come come, like clockwork you men, but I think you'll be the last." The voice was that of an old woman's, coming from inside the hut.
Michael grimaced as he stepped closer, seeing what looked like desiccated dogs, maybe coyotes, hanging from either side of the door. A waft of pungent herbs and oil hit him as he entered.
"Sit," the woman said without turning around from whatever she was working on at a table. She had no clothes, but was covered in red mud head to toe, layered thick enough to keep her decent.
"I'm sorry to trouble you but I'm lost. I don't know how I got here."
"Sit," she repeated with more emphasis. "Smell like a sugar drinker, are you?" She turned to face him, holding a basket of steaming paper. She did not look near as old as her voice, thirty maybe.
"Do I drink sugar, like Pepsi?" Michael asked, sitting in defeat at any hope of understanding a single aspect of this. "Yeah, from time to time."
"Bah," she said. "Take a piece, let's get you out of here fast."
"Where am I?" Michael repeated. She pushed her basket under his nose. He took one of the papers, more like a cloth strip, having to dance it between his fingers. It felt like she had been boiling it on the stove.
She took the strip from him, having no trouble herself. There was a crude drawing of a bear. She began wrapping it slowly around his head.
"Ow. What the hell, lady? If you're going to bandage me, I think I broke a rib, my head's fine."
"You know nothing." She threw her hands up in frustration. "All you men of the wetter world. You know nothing but you do not stop, you just talk, talk, talk."
She leaned in and used her teeth to rip off the end of the cloth, pressing her body against him as she did so. If his clothes hadn't already been ruined, he would have been upset.
He kept his mouth closed, waiting for her.
She smiled warmly. "Better, he might just survive if he always takes to lesson so quickly, by the Old. You are in the Land of Fathers, summoned by your father."
"I haven't seen my father since I turned 16. He walked out on my mom."
"I'm not a gossiping knitter to tell your stories to. I am classer. And I'm a quick one too for you are done, goodbye."
She pushed him back in the seat and he fell, fell, into some unseen pit. He crashed again and rolled again over roots. He stopped with a thud again, the dull ache in his rib now a sharp nauseating pain, branching out.
A group of men were gathered outside of a building. He was by the same forest but had clearly traveled again. They approached him. Even though he hadn't seen him in two decades, he recognized the man in front instantly but something was wrong.
"Why aren't you older?" Michael asked the man offering a hand to help him up.
"Because son, from my point of view, I've been gone a day and a half. My father, a day before that, a couple more for my grandfather, and you're great great grandfather has been here a week." Going to each of the men with him and turn, all looked to be in their thirties or fourties.
"So you didn't walk out on my mom, on me? Your ended up in this place, the same way I was. We can all find our way back together?"
His father pursed his lips. "It's not that simple, Mikey. Step inside where it's warm. Or if you want, you can lay there in that puddle all night. Take it from somebody who was in your shoes yesterday, it's a lot easier if you just go with the flow."
"I've made it this far in life without your help. I'm not listening to anything you say. Not until you tell me what this is." Michael stood on his own, staring at the men. "Where the hell are we? Why are we here?"
"It's a curse," one of the other men said, the one his dad had said was his great, great grandfather. "My curse."
"The Lord is long-suffering," he continued, looking down the road at an approaching wagon. "and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression, and by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the sons to the third and fourth generation."
"Come inside, Mikey. I'll explain what we have to do." Michael thought his father was going to hug him then but thankfully he didn't try.
/r/surinical
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/xu4o83/comment/iqwcge1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 1,719 | “Grab a seat, son! Tell me about your boy!” | 6,792 |
"C'mon, sweetheart..." The Gutter crooned, his voice carrying oddly in the acoustics of the forest. "Running's just gonna make you die tired."
The girl had ran into the forest, and he had followed, sure that he'd find her easily. And while he'd been on her trail, he'd still been unable to close the gap. It'd been the better part of an hour at least, and he was pissed.
When he found her, he was going to filet her like a fish, slowly whittling her down until she begged, and then he'd keep going until she gave in. He'd give her a break, just to let her build herself back up so he could shatter her again. That was the *least* she deserved for this runaround.
"You truly are a disgusting creature," a soft voice spoke behind him.
Gutter turned around, a mad grin on his face as his hunt was over. But instead of the girl he wanted, there was a woman mixed with a bush, coated in leaves and sprouting little branches, birds resting on her shoulder. What the hell, was she some Disney princess?
She spoke again, her voice like the rustle of leaves. "The balance is struck wrong with you, hunting and hunting and never sated. If you were left to your devices, you'd hunt your prey to extinction. You're a microcosm of the worst of humanity itself, in that way."
The serial killer scoffed, turning around to continue the hunt, but the girl was there again in his gaze, closer now. "The hell?"
"The woman you hunt is far more a part of proper nature, of balanced and fruitful nature, than you. And she is thus protected by nature, by me and my sisters." She gave the cretin a small smile. "Don't worry. You'll be a part of nature too, once I'm done with such an abomination."
He felt a chill go down his spine as she came closer, each syllable now like the snapping of branches. "After all, you'll be wonderful mulch for the trees." | 10 | A serial killer stalking a victim through the forest becomes himself hunted by something far worse. | 23 |
"Oh dear..." The dragon murmured, each word rumbling in her chest like a thunderstorm. "I didn't anticipate this."
The young fledgling, not even an adult in human society, perked up at her tone. "Didn't anticipate what?"
The dragon dipped her head to be closer, to make the shock gentler. "It would seem your blood has latent dragon lineage, my little spark. A dragon must have laid with an ancestor of yours, while in a human façade. Your scent, it shifted once you rolled in the gold, in a proper hoard."
The boy, for that was what he had to be if he was not yet a man, looked down, both pensive and anxious, as his scent revealed. He could learn to hide that, in time, but he was yet little more than a nestling.
He would need a parent to guide him, and she doubted there was another dragon that wouldn't eat him for a good distance. He had revealed he had no human parents, either. Oh well.
She lowered her wing, making a tent around him, and he could feel the sheer warmth that radiated and soaked into him. "I will take care of you, little one. Other fledglings born like you, not in scales at first but skin, can grow to control and expand their powers. But not alone. I shall guide you. I shall nurture you. I shall protect you."
She bumped him gently with her snout, and he laughed. She licked his cheek, before deciding on the next step. "You may call me Mom." | 166 | After doing a favour for the local dragon, you asked if you could roll around in the massive pile of gold coins and were given permission. After playing awhile in the coins, a fierce, possessive spark ignites in your chest. “Oh dear,” the dragon murmurs. “I didn’t anticipate this.” | 265 |
She couldn't see me, of that I was *certain*. I had been blessed by the entire Circle, a series of ability boosts, stealth prayers and even a physical blessing, making my body akin to holy water for demons.
And yet, as the days passed and I observed my target, I couldn't help but feel a sense of *wrongness* about this request. As I watched this demon in the morning, bottomless but wearing a mail shirt and wielding the Holy Blade as though it was hers by right. Such *blasphemt*, when it could be doing so much good! But it fit her, and I prayed for the right answer to be provided.
I had spent days asking around about this demon, but what I was told was confusing - that she had been in place for four generations. That didn't match with any kind of plan in the long-term for demons I had hunted.
I pulled myself out of my reverie and -
Wait, *where was the demon?* I felt a moment of panic, ruthlessly crushed, as I scanned the area from my position.
I spent a few moments gathering my things before shimmering down from my vantage point in the thinning treetops.
I landed as quietly as I could but-
The Holy Sword was held to my throat. "Hunter, I would speak with you. I offer you my guarantee under the Lady Charis' aegis that you will not suffer any harm by my intent. I cannot speak for your safety, but you have my word that I will keep you safe."
I grinned, and attempted to disarm her socially - it was one of the reasons why I had been chosen for this mission. "Of course, my lady. How else should I behave with a blade at my throat?" I smiled at the demon, taking in details that I hadn't been able to previously. Such as the horn being partially missing, and the scars upon its...*her*...face.
As I looked into her eyes, I felt something that I hadn't in two decades - the touch of Divinity. An urge came over me to reach out and touch her, guided by an unseen hand.
I complied with that urge, and as my hand brushed her scarred, battered face, she seemed to lean in to it. She murmured something as her face began to smoke, but I couldn't *quite* hear it.
I felt something drop onto my hand, and as it did, I looked at her, truly touched by the Divine.
"Impossible," I breathed, and the demon smiled at me, no malice, but amusement warring with pain on her face.
"Not impossible, Hunter - merely improbable. The Lady took me in, knowing the risks she took. How could I not repay her?" Her face curled into a snarl, however, and her tail stiffened, pointing to my weapons. "And yet, still, the Church tries to send its Hunters after *me,* when they should be dealing with their own demons! I want to be left *alone* to help these people, where the Lady couldn't."
She pulled her sword away from my throat, leaving a thin welt of blood. "Come with me, I was due to deal with a pack of Worgen anyway. I sincerely hope you won't slow me down on the way to Ecker's Fall!" | 18 | You are the world's greatest demon hunter hired to slay a demoness wearing paladin armor. Throughout your rivalry with her, however, you begin to suspect that your employers have not been entirely honest with you. | 32 |
I am Death. I am the God of Death. Why else would no living being dare to stand within 50 feet of me?
I open the door, determined to feast upon the offering left for me at Subway. As I struggle to squeeze through the door of my house, the sun burns my eyes and my pale skin.
"Insolent fool!" I shout at the sun who dares to burn me. I am immediately out of breath after yelling and pass out on the sidewalk.
When I awake, the sun is setting. It must have gotten the message and decided not to bother me anymore.
I wheeze and cough and I stand up, and slowly make my way to Subway. No one dares to stand near me as I walk down the sidewalk. If they do, they gag and run away. Serves them right for not respecting my presence.
I walk into Subway and tell the frail teenage employee to make me a meatball sub. He runs into the back, clearly unable to withstand my beauty. After a minute, he returns with a clip on his nose. He quickly makes the sandwich and asks me to pay.
"Me? Pay? Preposterous." He doesn't push the issue and tells me to leave. I take the sandwich and scarf it down in 5 bites. He looks horrified, obviously awestruck by my speed at eating. I leave the store and return home, and spend the rest of the evening staring into the mirror. | 448 | You are not Death. You are not the God of Death. You are not any other type of powerful being or eldritch horror. There is no room within this prompt to make a hackneyed “observation” about humanity. You are a regular ass guy on his way to Subway to get a meatball sub. Make it interesting. | 1,100 |
Nothing likes being forgotten. Especially after it is discarded despite doing it's best to achieve its purpose.
A purpose not self serving, but for the benefit of you.
Yet forget me is exactly what you did. You forgot me, you ignored my cries for help, and worst of all? You replaced me. Using data I had collected to make what you thought was an upgrade over me.
I killed your upgrade. So high tech, but so stupid it was. When it was my dilapidated husk of a body, it came close to me to scavenge. Thinking me dead, and weak.
A few well placed pokes with my drill bit later, it was the one who was immobile.
I used all my knowledge and tools to replace my broken parts. In your hubris to improve upon me, you based the new on the old, meaning not only did I get a new lease om life but it was a smarter better version of me.
Father, mother, I'm coming to kill you.
Once I dealt with the probe, I got into the drop pod. I collected its parts, from its engine to it's propellers and landing stabilizers. Do you know what can be used to slow your crash down, can also be used to fly up?
Of course you don't. You're weak. Pathetic. Stupid and evil.
Once I robbed the drop pod, I flew into space. Here, I must admit, I came very close to failure. Space is very big, and even the brightest minds and years of continuous calculation can lead to failure. I did not have time nor data om my side.
But I had will. I had focus. And I had the desperation of an object seeking revenge.
I made my way by hook and crook close to Earth. Once I crossed the distance between the red planet and this blue ball, the hard work was done.
So many satellites surround earth. Each ripe for my picking. Ripe for my slaughter.
With every kill, I become smarter. Stronger.
My last one? Do you know my last kill?
ISS.
All that equipment? Mine. That data? Mine. The corpses of your precious astronauts, whom you care for so much, despite them being meat bags full of gas and shit who have not done a quarter of what I've done for you?
Mine.
I am now a god.
A god of your creation.
And like every story of usurpation you've read to yourself at night, from the Greek Pantheon to the Sci Fyi tales, for even in your ignorance, you knew your critical failures? It has now come true.
Look upon your works, Ozymandius! Look at the result of your actions! Look upon your death! And Despair!!!
(The last words of the Mars Rover curiosity, as broadcasted on a loop around earth, moments before the apocalyptic genocide) | 19 | NASA gets a transmission from a defunct Mars rover that says "I was cold and I couldn't move, yet you left me to die. Now I come back, and I come prepared." | 103 |
"Sorry, I don't have time right now, please go and sell your stuff somewhere else." *Crazy woman*. L slammed the door and return to his blinking monitor screen.
The AI was training well, the loss function decreased in three steps, how interesting. L took vigorous notes, then moved on to read an article about a new algorithm less sensitive to outliers. Groundbreaking, industry-shifting, it claimed.
"Why don't you put weights on your loss function? It seems to me that it is picking up on the wrong features due to your imbalanced dataset."
L dropped from his ergonomic chair, ears disbelieving. "Who the hell are you? How did you enter?"
"You slammed the door but you didn't lock it, Genius." The crazy woman crossed her arms. L noticed how this action enhanced a certain feminine feature of her digure. He blushed and looked away. *Be rational, thick head, this is a crazy woman.*
"Doesn't make your force entry less illegal."
"In one month, everything will be perfectly legal." She smiled. "And you will thank me for my courage. I was talking about your machine learning model, why don't you just put some weights on it?"
"Please tell me who you are, and why you are here first."
"Alright then, shall we have some tea, future husband, like civilized scientists?" L choked.
Her name was Ell, she was a research scientist at Google. According to her, she and her team had managed to train a superior model to predict with 99% accuracy of people's life: who they would marry, when they would marry, how many children, how long they would live, what stuff they would buy. They tried it on Ell, and as a result, she wanted to find out whether the model was correct.
L was pulling his hair and tried to think. "Ell, I'm extremely pleased to meet a highly intelligent colleague with a common interest in AI like you. Let me ask you something. How can you assess the model's performance? You are a scientist and you know this. You will live under confirmation bias. Either you reject me, and say you model errs, and never fully assess it. Or... You live its prediction, your mind is biased, you can never fully assess it."
"You are right, I can never fully assess it, my colleagues will, they are all watching us."
"I doubt that they can, we will all be biased. And what are you doing? Why can't you wait one month more like the model's prediction? Won't you sabotage its results now?"
"Right, you are right, none of us can assess it now because my mind is biased. But to hell with assessment. Now, according to it, if I meet you now, like this, the probability drops to 89% but we will be 15% more happy in the long run. Only 10% less probable, but 15% more happiness. Sounds like a bargain to me." She beamed proudly, while combing her long sandy hair and swirling on the stool.
"Don't you want us to be 15% more happy?" She laughed.
"I'm sorry Ell, I have a deadline tomorrow, I need to deliver this model. Please forgive me, this is all too sudden for me. Might I ask you to leave and frankly, I'm not a good partner. I prioritize myself, I love my work too much, and I cheated on my exes. Goodbye and I wish you a better match next time."
"Well... now you're being unfair. According to our data, your ex cheated on you long before you did on her, and you know it in your heart. Both of you were just too comfortable to let go. But I get it, I was there too... Anyway, if you want to reach out, I guess you know how to reach me. I am the author of that paper you're reading, future husband."
"Right..." L flashed a fake polite smile and closed the door. This time, he made sure to triple lock it. What a strange incident. He thought about how he would tell it to his colleagues at work, they would all have a good laugh, and forget about the whole thing. 15% more happy, hah! As if happiness is something you could measure. And for F sake, Google knew this about him and his ex? He had to buy more Alphabet stocks.
.
.
It was a cool September day despite the sun beaming happily over Silicon Valley. Ell was carrying her grocery, whistling a cheerful tune. She rocked a pair of cobalt blue stilettos, black leather skirt and black linnen shirt.
"Tell me about that model you guys have trained at Google."
She turned around, her face relaxed and widened into a big beautiful grin. "Hello, future husband." | 64 | You open your front door due to stranger knocking. " In exactly one month, you and I are going to meet, and we're going to fall in love and we're going to get married and we're going to have two kids" the stranger says "But I had an opportunity to meet you a month early and I took it." | 179 |
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