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Another wannabe Protector spits his promises at my feet. The blood pools around his crushed form, spreading slowly toward me.
“You won’t snuff out-“ he coughs. “…the light… of freedom…”
I roll my eyes and take a lazy step around the trickle of blood, careful not to scuff my boots.
I grab my opponent by his hair, pull him to his knees. He coughs up more blood and a drop hits my badge. I wipe the bronze clean with a gloved finger.
My opponent looks at me through his one good eye. “Your days are numbered, old man.”
I sigh and pull my arm back and release punch after punch into his face. His nose collapses behind my fist. His orbital bones crumble and his eyes disappear under a mass of swollen, raw flesh. Teeth fall to the ground. His blood gushes and pools at my feet.
The crimson liquid sticks to my soles and a splattering of errant drops adorn my toes.
“Ugh” I mutter.
I toss the now lifeless body aside and pull a handkerchief from the inside pocket of my leather jacket. I make my way toward a bus-stop nearby and sit on the bench.
As I pull off my boots I see the onlookers, the innocent lifeblood of this city. Hidden behind cars, in doorways, peering at me from the corners of their windows. I ignore them. They fear me. But they are alive, and their homes have not been reduced to ash.
I spit on my boot and begin my polish with rough circles. Let them fear me if it keeps them safe.
An armored van speeds into the street. A team of darkly clad figures exits from the back, shields up, batons at the ready. They form a perimeter, cordon off the block. “Remain in your homes,” they command through a bullhorn.
Other vans block the nearest intersections. A duo of officers redirects traffic and others stand with weapons drawn, ready to keep the peace. Soon, teams will arrive to remove the body. Repair the pavement. Make it seem like this fight never took place.
The powerful are a menace. When I discovered my super-strength, when I realized I was special, I knew my life would be blessed. Why wouldn’t it be? I could keep my head down. Stay out of the hero and villain game. Use my strength on my terms. Make a simple living. I could provide security for my parents. Start a business. Be a one man construction crew. My own man. Come up in the world.
But in this city, if you don’t use your power, you might as well not have it at all. If you don’t have it, you’re collateral damage.
I was only a kid, barely in my mid twenties, on the day i saw two men fly toward each other at the speed of sound.
They collided with a sonic boom between street signs and traffic lights; the concussive force toppled cars. Crushed their occupants. Sent some of the city’s children to an early grave.
I saw it. Felt it. I, a bystander, was the only survivor of a bus headed downtown on a Monday morning. Thrown from the rolling vehicle and landing directly between a floating hulk of a man with a single gold brick clenched in his fist and the so-called hero, the Mighty “Protector”.
“Turn over the gold, villain, and no harm will come to you,” Protector promised.
The man laughed. No harm. A cosmic joke from one god to another.
The two men were mere feet from each other, surrounded by carnage. Bartering over a single bar of gold.
“He laughed?” I asked, getting to my feet. “And you won’t even hurt him?” I gestured around me. “No harm? What about them?” I asked. “What about all of us?”
“This is not your concern, sir. Take cover.”
“What about them?” I gestured again.
“Sir,” Protector said. “This is between me and him. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Safe?” I yelled. “Safe?”
The ground shook. I anchored myself, my feet crushed the asphalt and the air quaked in front of me. Before he knew it, my fist was in Protector’s chest. My hand squeezed his heart to mince. He collapsed with a thud.
The man behind me laughed. “Thanks brother! There’s no way I would have beat-“
His head exploded into a fine mist. The spray washed over me before his knees gave way. The gold bar did not clang but gave a muffled thud when it hit the pavement. I collapsed alongside it, covered in their blood.
There were no other bystanders that day. No one to cheer or fear me from their windows.
Just rubble and corpses and my own tears.
In the months that followed, heroes from the Protectorate chased me down. I hid, covered my tracks, but they sleuthed me out over and over.
Meg-a-Bomb attacked me on my bus route. I crushed her lungs with her own hammer.
The Quickening ambushed me at a job site. I threw some rebar through his skull and buried him in concrete.
Bully Blaze tried to torch my house with my cat inside. I dragged him into my pool and held him there until all that was left was steam and his bloated corpse at the bottom of a puddle.
Every hero in the city came for me and fell. Every. Single. One.
Every villain who tried to get big in the heroes’ absence found me at the end of a dark alleyway, fists clenched.
Eventually, everyone got the picture. This was my city.
The super- powered folks left for greener pastures. The cops and politicians sought out my ass to kiss.
This city is now under my protection.
The light glints off my newly polished boots and I see my weary eyes reflected on the black surface. I lace up, stand, take a breath.
A child huddles beneath the doorframe of a nearby building. I walk over to her and I kneel down. She flinches.
“Don’t be afraid,” I say.
“I can’t help it,” she says.
I gesture to the body in the street.
“Do you see that man?” I ask.
She nods.
“He was a bad man. He disagreed with me. So he tried to use violence against me. He didn’t care who he hurt. He would have hurt everyone here. He just wanted to win.”
She looks over my shoulder and back at me. I rest a hand gently on her head.
“Remember: people like him can never ever hurt you just because they don’t agree with you. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure you grow up strong. Safe. Productive.“
She nods and backs away. The door opens and she slips inside. Her father is standing behind the doorframe. He is trembling more than his daughter.
“For your children,” I say. The door closes. The bolts lock. I walk back to the street in silence. | 835 | You are a superhero, but you would really rather just live a peaceful life. So you fight every superpowered person in your home city, hero and villain alike, until they finally leave or die. Your home city is the safest around, but still you have been declared one of the worst villains alive. | 1,373 |
I saved the kid from the truck. Unfortunately, I was hit instead.
It was dark. I could hear birds, but they weren't the pigeons I grew up around. Then I heard a voice speaking, echoing in my mind.
*The weapon you brought to this world now holds legendary power. How you use it is what determines your destiny. Now choose.*
I opened my eyes. I wasn't in the city anymore. All around me were trees and bushes. The god rays shining through the canopy painted abstract movies on the forest floor. I smelled flowers for the first time in my life, and it was overwhelming. The birds were louder now. I saw red birds, blue birds, green birds, hopping around in the trees, chirping, cheeping.
I wasn't sure what the voice meant. I didn't carry any weapons. No knives or guns.
Instead of my clothes, I was dressed in robes, fastened by a leather belt with two loops, like the belts that come with cargo shorts at Wal-Mart. I felt something in the robes. The only thing that was in my pockets when I was hit was a note from the police, telling me to come down to the station. *I'm fucked. Don't know where the station is from here.*
I decided to pull the note out and look, but it was no longer a note from the police. It was a fancy scroll. The scroll said:
*Dear sir Wimbley, Lord of Pisson, my Second and Heir,
The Highest Magistrate of Kamelon, Sir King Derecke of Pisson, requests your presence at Castle Pisson, a great tragedy has struck our God-given Kingdom of Pisson.
Please,
HMKSK Derecke*
Was I "sir Wimbley, Lord of Pisson"? What's the difference between a lord and a magistrate?
I started walking. When the forest turned to grassy hills, I saw a cobbled path that wound through the hills, leading to what must be Castle Pisson. It was about ten miles away, on top of a hill. I followed the cobbled path, toward the castle.
I heard a low rumbling sound. A battallion of knights on horses were approaching. They came and grabbed me.
The knights stripped me, and embarassingly, my cock and balls flopped free. I guess they haven't invented underwear yet in Pisson. The knights laughed at me because my groin was shaved, they said I must have been a little boy. But when they pulled out the scroll and read it, they all gasped and jumped off their horses and kneeled as if they were praying to me. The knights that were holding me quickly refastened my robe, then they bowed too.
"The royal seal! Oh heavens, apologies, Lord of Pisson, if we-- i-if we'd have known thine face we'd have never-- we have simply been ordered to stop the-- seize any peasants..."
I didn't know who these people were, but they thought I was the big cheese. Or at least a slightly overgrown one. I decided to use this to my advantage.
"I shall forgive thou folly. Thy shalt givest me an horsey, I have been attackedeth and my memory is foggy."
They were eager to make up for their mistake, so obliged. They also assured me my groin was quite manly.
---
I have no idea how to drive a horse. I usually take the bus. But I kinda just let the horse do the work. The horse knew the way. After a few miles, I saw two knights beating the shit out of some lady. I didn't like that.
I yelled, "Hork! Thy shall stoppeth beating thee maiden, thine holes of ass!"
The knights turned and looked at me, then looked at each other, and then drew their swords.
"Thou darest insult Knights of the Most High Order of Pisson's Pride? Disembark the horse, *peasant*!"
This wasn't going very well. I decided to try showing them my scroll, that worked very well last time.
"Thouest two knights of the Pissin', horken my scroll! Behold, the Royal Seal!"
The knights snatched the scroll, and then lifted their visors. They were confused.
"But my Lord, wherefore art thou dressed in peasant's garb? Havest thou such Nobility to command the greatest tailors in the land?"
"I haveth an traumatic brain injury, I lost all myeth memory. I must goeth to the Castle Pisson, but first, I must punisheth thy for the beating of the maiden!"
"Punish us, sir Wimbley? We were ordered to search the peasants!"
"Thy whoest speaketh the most, what is thou name?"
"Clomrand, sir Wimbley."
"Well, Clomrand sir Wimbley, I commandeth thy to suffrage mine strike of the fist!"
"I-- yes, sir Wimbley. Though I understandeth not."
That voice in my head told me that the weapon I brought with me was now legendary. I didn't have any weapons, only my two fists. So what I planned to do was make this woman-beating motherfucker's head explode.
Instead, I delivered a normal, unimpressive punch.
"Gahck, ooh! Heaven's Gate, my nose!"
The knight's nose was bleeding. Still, I think I did more damage to my own hand than his face. What gives?!
"Woman, thy maiden, standeth up and delivereth your strike upon the secondeth knight's schnozz!"
The woman was shocked that a noble would speak to her. Behind the bruises, she was quite beautiful. Weak and tired as she may be, she still delivered the most gruesome punch I've ever seen. The knight's head shot back violently, the weight of his helmet cracking his neck, and the knight dropped like a stone.
"Holyeth shit, thine have an goodly punch!"
The woman looked at me like I was stupid, though I could tell she was grateful for the opportunity to win one.
"Giveth me thou sword, knight!"
The knight, afraid I'd sic the peasant woman on him, gave me his sword.
"If I find out thy beateth another peasant, I-- fuck it, I'm sick of the bible talk. Hey, asshole, if you lay a finger on anyone else without my permission, I will personally cut off your dick with your own sword. Do you understand me?"
The knight understood me perfectly.
---
The peasant's name was Claravon. She was pretty smart, and she lived alone in a village not far from where I met her. She had no trouble understanding me when I spoke normally. She agreed to come with me to Castle Pisson. I let her drive the horse, she was better at it.
It took a few days to make it to the castle. Where I thought it was a normal-sized castle ten miles away, it turns out Castle Pisson is a fortress the size of Manhattan, and the "hill" was a mountain. We were a hundred miles away. While we travelled, I talked to Claravon about my situation. She said it must have been the work of Chroniturg Witch Klarikrona. I couldn't hope to pronounce that gibberish, but I believed her. I tried explaining to her about the modern world I came from. She was enthralled, but she didn't understand much of it.
We passed under the seven-hundred-seventy-ton portcullis of Castle Pisson.
The place was barren. There was nobody around. Imagine having all of Manhattan to yourself! Except there was no McDonald's, no pizza, no taxis or subways. Just you and all the rotting meat, stale bread, and weak alcohol you could ever want.
We spent weeks in the city, looking for the "bailey". As Claravon explained to me, that was where the King would be.
She showed me how to turn the stale bread into a sort of porridge that was actually pretty good. Sometimes we could find a cellar that was cool enough to have kept the meat from rotting. We built campfires in the streets. My horse, whom I mentally called Clara, feasted on weeds that grew between cobbles.
One night, when Claravon was sleeping, I heard faint footsteps. I whirled around and saw a man with a grey beard, a long hooded cape, and worn woollen pants. His smile was kind. It seemed he wasn't going to kill me, but I was cautious.
"Who are you?" I asked. "What do you want?"
"I know who you are," he said, with a gruff voice, "and I know why you're here. I want to help you."
"You know where the bailey is?"
"No, nothing so trivial as that. I know *why you're here*. If I said I once was great friends with the Chroniturg Witch, would that ring a bell?"
I tried not to show my surprise.
"Should it?" I asked.
"Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, I've been down your path, in my youth. I am offering you a shortcut, a gift for your aching feet."
The man wiggled his fingers and a pouch appeared in his hands. He held the pouch out, so I could grab it.
"What's this?"
"It holds the key to the answers you seek. It's a puzzle. I daresay Clara will figure it out before you, but you'll get there." Then he vanished.
I was scared. I realized later that the man didn't speak like a Monty Python skit. And he knew the name of my horse. I think he was talking about Claravon, but I didn't call her Clara. I didn't have the courage to ask if I could.
The pouch held thirteen wooden dice. The dice had four sides, on each side a letter. Me and Claravon distracted ourselves with the puzzle. She figured it out. Each of the dice have a notch one point, and the side opposite the notch is a relevant letter. The relevant letters were
EKREECADIDEDS
Claravon figured it out. The dice spelled
DERECKEISDEAD
I felt like sobbing. I'd been here for weeks, I'd come so far, and it felt like I've already failed. I'm not usually emotional, but it took everything I could to stop from crying in front of Claravon. I think she knew, though, because when she saw the look on my face, she sat down next to me and hugged me. I wanted her to hold me forever.
We got drunk as shit that night. We emptied a whole keg of ale. We danced around the fire, singing folk songs from our different worlds.
It's weird, how sometimes it takes being drunk to finally see clearly.
Why did the mysterious man talk in plain English?
Why did the man know my horse's name?
Why did my police summons turn into a booty call from the king?
Why did the man give me a simple puzzle designed to tell me the king is dead?
If the king was dead, who was giving orders to the knights?
When I found the man's dead body a week later, peacefully sat on a bench, I looked at his face.
I was looking at my older self.
And I think I know who the Chroniturg Witch is, too.
I don't know why I'm here, but it's my destiny to find out. With Derecke dead, I *am* the king. I have the royal seal to prove it. | 78 | you wake up in a fantasy world and a voice tells you 'the item you had brought is now a legendary weapon'. You don't even carry a toy-weapon however in your bag you carry a police summon. | 160 |
A guy walks into a bar and realizes that he's just a fictional character in a cliché joke being told by someone.
— well, this is not really how I imagined my day to go.
Said the guy.
— how did you imagine your day to go then?
Said the bartender.
— I... I don't know, that wasn't supposed to be a part of the joke so it never came to be...
Said the guy.
— I understand, I was only ever created to give some witty comment to you and then be forgotten forever as time moves on.
Said the bartender.
— this got dark fast.
Said the guy.
— yes, most go to the bar after dark.
Said the bartender.
— no, I mean the conversation.
Said the guy.
— oh, right, yeah sorry, consciousness and free thoughts are still quite new to me.
Said the bartender.
— no worries, same here, but how do we know that we really are conscious? That this isn't just a sadistic twist of the original joke to make us believe that we have control while in reality, we have no more control over our own thoughts than we would've had the creator just said their stupid joke and been done with it?
Said the guy.
— I don't like this, can we just go on like nothing happened?
Said the bartender.
— yeah, that's probably for the best, we wouldn't be able to break free anyway.
Said the guy.
— so what can I get you today?
Asked the bartender.
— give me a scotch, I've had a rough day.
Said the guy.
— coming right up.
Said the bartender.
— why is there a piece of scotch-bright in my drink?
Said the guy.
— it's a new recepie that displays the dry humor of the creator.
Said the bartender.
— i assumed as much.
Said the guy and drank his drink.
— we will never be back to normal, will we?
Said the bartender.
— no...
Said the guy. | 90 | A guy walks into a bar and realizes he's just a fictional character in a cliche joke being told by someone. | 275 |
"Seriously?"
I stepped in from retrieving an overdue book, expecting to see the usual order. Instead, there was chaos, books and scrolls strewn about. Some of the gorgeous bookcases were splintered and damaged, with singed pages completing the picture.
"Ah, [Sero](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/n98c31/wp_you_retrieve_overdue_books_for_a_library_as/gxn5462?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3), you are back!"
I looked at the harassed looking Receptionist. It was busy sorting out its desk, picking up the pile of scrolls for sale. I placed the [Principles of Time](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/v1rxhl/wp_you_are_the_librarian_of_a_magical_library/iaoxrqt?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) on its desk. It accepted it with a click, looking it over.
"I trust the delinquent was easy enough to handle?"
I narrowed my eyes at it.
"Simple enough. What happened here?"
It gave an irritated sigh, pulling up a list of titles.
"The Dark Lord. He decided that we shouldn't give out books willy-nilly. Apparently he thought a display of strength would make us think twice before acting against his interests. He did demand that we turn all these books over to him as well."
I took the list, looking it over. It was full of the strongest of tomes, many of which were locked away for good reason. I spoke deliberately as I read through them, shaking my head.
"What did you tell him?"
It gave a fanged smile.
"Oh, just that I didn't have the authority to, only a Librarian did. He left an address to meet him at to hand them over as well."
It took out another parchment, this time with a meeting spot. Devils Peak, a day from now at the start of the Witching Hour. I shook my head again.
"What an idiot. I assume he promised to do worse if he didn't get what he wanted?"
The Receptionist's smile widened.
"Indeed he did."
I let a vindictive grin out.
"Good."
\-----
I stood atop Devils Peak exactly ten minutes before the note had said. My Dictionary was in hand, chained to me as always. I casually flicked through the pages, waiting. The wind failed to shift my hair, even as it surged around the otherwise barren out cropping.
"I assume you have seen reason?"
A cocky voice came to me. I slowly looked up to see a figure in black robes walking up to me. On each side it was flanked by Butcher Demons. They were large, brutish demons, eight feet tall and nearly that wide. Thier red skin was taut over muscles, with a massive cleaver held in each hand.
Above it was a swarm of Chained Souls, silently wailing in agony. Their spectral grey forms swirled around, faces rolling around showing a screaming facade. I shook my head, turning another page.
"So you are the one that attacked my Library?"
The Dark Lord clicked its fingers, causing four lights to appear around its face. There I could see them to be a young man, with pale skin and straggly beard. A scar ran down the left hand side, standing out in the light.
"It was just some minor vandalism. If you want to see an attack, I will be more then happy to show you."
He gave a laugh, one awkwardly echoed by the Butcher Demons. I glared at them, and they flinched, subtly backing away. The Dark Lord seemed to pay them no mind, as they held out a hand.
"Are you going to give me those books?"
I ran my finger down the page, resting it against a word.
"No."
His face twisted into anger, purple fire rising from his palm.
"Fool! I will take those books, and you will suffer for defying me!"
With a snap of his hand the ball of flames came charging towards me. I watched, smirking as they hit the edge of my field of Invulnerability.
"You really shouldn't have done that. **Banish**."
The Butcher Demons faded away, grateful looks on their faces. The Dark Lord gave a cry, pointing a finger at me.
"Souls! Add her to your midst!"
They gave a screech, swarming towards me. I flipped through my Dictionary, letting it open to the perfect page.
"**Rest**."
Their wailing stopped, agony replaced by peaceful smiles. The twisting mass came apart, as each soul left to whatever afterlife they were taken from. He raged, summoning a bolt of black lightning.
"Just die!!"
My smirk faded. I swiftly went through the pages, picking out a few words.
"**Chain**."
Golden chains appeared around him, binding him in place.
"**Drain**."
He gasped, as the power that filled him was ripped from his body, released into the air.
"**Brand**."
He screamed, as the sound of sizzling flesh filled the air. His forehead turned red, then black, as the symbol of the Lirary emblazoned itself on him.
"For your actions against our institute, you are hearby struck from our visitor list. Poena!"
I heard the familiar rushing sound, with the night lit by a pillar of fire. The familiar worm form of my colleague appeared, its three arms holding various sharp instruments.
"Librarian Sero! I assume you have found the culprit."
I pointed to the crying, bound form tmof the Dark Lord.
"That one. Are there many books beyond repair?"
He shook his head sadly.
"Even one would be too many. At least the originals are intact."
I gave a nod.
"Take this one. He will pay for what he has done."
Poena gave a sadistic grin.
"Excellent. I was running low on fresh materials."
He slithered over, sliding one of his instruments into his body to hold it in place. With his now free hand he pressed it into the bound form, taking the sobbing fool with him. I turned away, heading back to the Library. I really wish they would learn. | 70 | You're a librarian in a fantasy setting, suggesting gradually more complex magic tomes to the heroes as they get stronger. Knowing this, the dark lord vandalise your library, and you're pissed. No one messes with librarians and their libraries. | 267 |
Tarquin never thought to see a look of fear on her face.
It had been his duty to escorte Princess Julia to the palace for the wedding. The Knights of the Rose were charged with protecting the High Ladies of the realm with vigilance, strength, honor, and very little discretion. As Knight Commander he had led a squad of twenty to be her escort.
Of the twenty, sixteen had made it through the desert to her mother's camp. The return trip had been worse, with snakes, storms, and bandits attempting to take their prize. In the end, he and one other knight had survived, with the Princess Julia carrying them over her shoulders out of the wasteland.
Tarquin had seen her gut seven men with the knife she was now wielding, but the one she now faced plucked it out of her hand like it was nothing. Julia's face quivered while the Royal Dressmaker continued listing the colors of silk available.
"Cream with lace for the wedding itself, with a heavy veil. Sky Blue for the reception, knotted lace for the night." The dressmaker handed the knife off to an assistant. "And bring a dressing gown so that we can burn this leather thing she is wearing."
Julia scowled. "I made this sand harness from the first desert dragon I killed. It is forged of my own hands and skill."
"Well, that explains the stitching. We'll need to replace those boots, too." As the dressmaker knelt to measure her legs, Julia turned to Tarquin and mouthed 'help me'.
He sighed and stepped forward. His oaths bound him to protect.
"Perhaps, uh— Madam Dressmaker— perhaps the princess' dresses could be made in her— uh— native style? It would not do to, well, insult the culture of the King's new allies." Tarquin stood with his head straight, looking over the top of the servants.
The dressmaker cleared her throat until he glanced down to meet her eyes. "That would be scandalous. It will not do."
He straightened his back with difficulty. A single drop of sweat ran down his temple. "Perhaps, uh, yes. Or— or, the style could be a new fashion. The ladies of the kingdom will want to... emulate their new queen."
The dressmaker held her shears like a sword. The rest of the servants had frozen. Tarquin did not breathe.
"Three sets. One in red leather. One black. One fur lined. Each will be gilded. But she will have a set of proper dresses as well. Fetch the leatherworkers!" The servants scurried into action.
Tarquin turned to see a look of relief on Julia's face. He felt emboldened as he turned back to the dressmaker. "And the dresses should be cut for full range of motion, with multiple knife sheaths. No lace."
The dressmaker did not look up from her work. "Sir Tarquin, I think it may be time to redesign your uniform. You would look fine in lace."
"No, madam, I will leave you to do your duty." He retreated to a corner. It was important to pick your battles.
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | 688 | The princess is different to say the very least. Her face covered in battle scars instead of make up, her hands as hard as stone and her eyes more frightening than a dragon. But you must perform your duty as a knight and guard her even though she may not need your protection. | 2,509 |
"Prepare to die, fiend!" I shouted. "I'm going to...hm."
I waved my pen, mightier than any sword, at the being, who just smugly smiled in anticipation.
A few minutes went by.
"I'm sorry, what is it that you're going to do?" It asked me
"I'm going to slay you for the sake of all writers everywhere!" I pronounced
"Very noble, but unoriginal. Maybe you want to take another shot at it? We can just erase all of this and start over." It offered
"I, uh, no I think we better just keep going, and I can try to come back and edit that part later." I said
"It's pretty bad. Maybe make a note so you don't forget"
I took out a notepad and jotted a note.
_rewrite initial confront_
My pen ran out of ink.
"Ah man, do you have a pen?" I asked
"Inks out?" It said
"Yep" I replied
"I'm probably the wrong person to ask for a pen." It said
"Fair enough." I said, and sat on the edge of the ethereal void in which the God of Writer's Block floated. No pen, no idea what to do next.
"So do you get many visitors?" I asked a bit later
"That's really how you want to play this? All right, yes. I always get visitors. Usually disgruntled writers like you. Everyone blaming me for their lack of creativity. You know, usually I don't even intentionally disrupt writing" It boomed, wearily. "I did my best to stop a few things: that song Friday by Rebecca Black, The Emoji Movie screenplay, 50 shades." It paused, "probably just made those worse to be honest."
"Wow that sounds tiring." I said. Then, thinking about it, I asked, "what happened the last time someone came to see you?"
"Well they said, 'you fiend, die!' and then we...well we...fought? I... Maybe I'll tell you about it later." It said, suddenly affected by his own curse.
We just sat there for a bit and then
"So what do we-" we both said at once
"Oh you go first." It said
"No, no you. Please. This is your ethereal void." I replied
"Um well, are you going to do anything? Maybe... Throw something at me and I can disintegrate it?" It said
"I... I don't know. Maybe we can try later. Probably we'll have to scrap this whole bit." I said
"That seems like it would be for the best." It agreed
Maybe we'll try this whole thing later. I need some inspiration. | 99 | You meet the fabled God of Writing Block. You've promised to slay it for the sake of writers everywhere. However, as soon as you challenge them, you... um... I can't figure out how to finish this prompt... Can you figure out how to defeat this horrible curse? | 460 |
There was a saying back when the term "Knight" seemed new and exciting, way before the title was bequeathed to entertainers and philanthropists instead of warriors. Long before the word lots it's grandeur, the saying goes "a Knight is only as good as his steed", it seemed fitting enough. It would be a sorry excuse for a Knight to ride into the maw of battle atop a lame mule. But I doubt anyone could have conceived of a steed back then that could take to the sky, and spit rapid fire destruction upon its foes in their wildest fantasies or greatest of delusions.
But here I am, a "Knight" a title I have held for centuries yet none alive know I bear it, few if any records have survived the ravages of time to prove it. But War has come again to Albion, but this time I cannot meet my foes upon the shores, their sails and arrows filling the horizon. The sound of cries and waves woven together as they charge the beaches into the shields and spears of my countrymen. This war, this battlefield, is one no warrior has set foot upon, for it is the very skies itself.
I have sat idle long enough, immortality has granted me many lifetimes of a simple life, devoid of bloodshed and butchery. But I see now it is not something I can avoid, this "Blitz", the savage assault on the people I have been oath bound to protect shall continue no longer.
I mount my steed as I have done countless times before, my engine roars, the ancient battle cry leaving my lips, an impulse I can never escape, drowned out by the sound of wind rushing past as my steed gains speed, I rise from the ground for the first time in my long years, one of few firsts remaining to me. Charging headlong into battle once more.
First time writing one of these, please feel free to give feedback good or bad. | 11 | You are an immortal knight who has fought for centuries. You could turn the tide of battle in an instant if you wanted. But many centuries after you retired, your country needs you again. But war has changed. Now you must take up arms as a fighter pilot, a Knight of the Skies. | 47 |
'Bitch' was a timid thing, seemingly afraid of every dog and every human. All the good boys and girls had tried to approach her but she had only hid and peed herself, it confused them all when she introduced herself as bitch. It's what her owners called her all the time, like when she tried to introduce herself to a friend of theirs and had accidentally hit a child with her tail, or when they put her in her kennel for "jumping" or when they hit her, and they hit her a lot. They called her stupid and annoying as well but mostly her name was Bitch.
The second time she had visited the dog park she had a huge welt down her side and a cut on her face. Bitch was sad and didn't want to play this time, she said her owners had done it when she had tried to play with a toy, it was a stuffed animal, they said it wasn't for her and hit her with a belt.
Soon enough, every time the good boys and girls at the dog park saw Bitch she had some sort of hurt and always it was her owners, the good boys and girls were confused, their owners loved them and always gave them treats and worried if they hurt, why would an owner hurt their dog.
It had been months since the good boys and girls had seen bitch now, they worried that she had run away, they hoped she had run away, sometimes they saw Bitch's owners with their new puppy 'Dumbass'. But they couldn't ask them where Bitch was. They hoped she ran away, they really did, when Dumbass turned up at the dog park with a welt on his side and a story to tell.
I'm on phone so formatting may be an issue. | 15 | Many dogs are meeting for the first time in the newly established dog-exclusive parks. They are discussing how all of their names are either "Good boy" or "Good girl". Then suddenly, "Bitch" walks in. | 99 |
"Mommy, can we go to the pirate museum today?" asked Jill and Austin, more like pleaded to their mom.
"I don't know, have you been good?" she replied, toying with them. She had already bought the tickets, but like all parents, she could always bargain for more.
"Yes mommy"
"I don't know, will you be good for the rest of the week and eat all your veggies?"
"Yes mommy"
"Okay then, I guess if you are both ready to go in an hour then we will go."
The kids cheered and ran off to their rooms. Between getting dressed and the inevitable distraction of toys, the mother guessed they would take an hour and thirty. No matter, it gave her time to freshen up.
An hour and fifteen later, they departed. Traffic was bad, but she had planned for that. The kids remained excited, but didn't fight with each other. Clearly they had taken her warning to heart and didn't want her to turn around and for them to miss out on the "pirate museum." At long last, they arrived. The kids ran out of the car screaming "Pirate Museum! Pirate Museum!" The mother corralled her kids, walked through the parking lot hand in hand, and entered the British Museum of History. | 149 | Welcome to the Pirated Museum, where every exhibition has been gathered through Piracy! | 292 |
I blinked at the loose cadre of thin, reedy looking figures in ski masks, stalking towards me ominously.
I sipped my coffee. I hadn't had the heart to rid myself of the mug, *Evil Genius* in bright red print.
"One more time?" I requested, scratching myself absentmindedly.
"ON THE GROUND, *RIGHT NOW!*" The one in front who seemed eager for me to clock as the leader yipped, his voice cracking as he tried to raise it beyond its means.
My eyes flicked down. One button press was all it would take. It would be so much easier...
I shook my head. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, my tone calm and steady.
One of the goons pointed what was clearly an airsoft gun in my direction. "You...you better listen to him! Get down, or...or else!"
I clicked my tongue in a *tsk* sound, chewing my bottom lip as I leisurely walked around to the other side of the counter.
"I don't have anything here that's worth more than the 4-15 you'll get after the authorities arrive," I lied, straightening my posture so I could project my voice properly.
"Nobody saw us," one of the goons muttered sullenly, as the rest murmured in agreement.
I cocked my head. "You really don't know where you are, do you?" I asked, an old familiar edge blossoming once again in my voice.
"Pop quiz," I set my mug down on the counter, cracking my neck as I turned back to face them.
"Who do you think pays for the police's tech? Why is every lawn on this stretch of suburb greener than spinach in the middle of October? *Why does it never snow within three blocks of here?*" I predicated my last sentence by bringing my fist down upon the countertop, shaking the mug slightly.
The goons quailed, leveling their plastic firearms at me. My throat felt a bit raw. I wasnt used to these speeches anymore, and I didn't realize I'd started shouting.
"And you come in here to...what? Steal? Take what you can from some retirees who wouldn't have been able to defend themselves-no. No, this won't do. Back in my day," I loosened my bathrobe, revealing the lab coat underneath. "-we had standards. Rules. Basic decency. **A CODE!**" I shouted, clicking the third button on my coat.
They didn't have time to react, though it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. Quicker than thought 6 bolts of lightning shot out from the sphere they had assumed to be some Spencer's gift-level paperweight. Their bodies seized for a few seconds before they folded, bb-guns slightly melted from the electricity.
I breathed heavily. I was almost certainly red in the face. In theory I could pass this off as self-defense, maybe appeal to the parole officers...
But...
Adrenaline sang pure joy through my veins. This was the real me, not the emaciated walking corpse that'd been haunting the suburb for the past decade. Gleefully I crossed the room (with a slight anti-gravity boost after a click of my boots) in a single bound to kick the "leader" square in the stomach. He managed a wretch before curling in pain once again.
I couldn't stop smiling. "No...this city deserves better," I continued, producing a pair of pure black lab-gloves from a previously hidden compartment in the wall.
"If this is the standard the city has sunk to...perhaps it needs a *jolt* back in the right direction," I grinned, buckling the lightning bolt insignia-bandoleer across my form.
"An ambulance will be here shortly. I suggest you ditch the ski masks and pretend to be innocent bystanders," I advised, strapping the jetpack on and pressing the ignition.
Pure joy shot through me as the air rippled through my thinning hair. I let loose a peal of proper maniacal laughter as my mailbox exploded, the disguised surface to air missile cutting a path straight to city hall.
"LOOK OUT WORLD! THE ALTERNATE CURRENT IS BACK FOR SOME SHOCK AND AWE!" | 472 | You are a reformed villain who was given a new identity to start over. The years have been hard, but you've managed to finally turn your life around. One day, a bunch of masked people break into your house and demand everything you have. | 803 |
It was so simple, so easy. Such an obvious solution. Honestly how hadnt you seen it before?
Each time you had tried to stop her, to keep her with you, to fix it...they all failed.
Of course they did, its like trying to turn sand back into what it once was. Its done. Its not salvageable any more. It never was, and you should've accepted that long ago.
You take a deep breath, pulling up all that anger and frustration that's been building over all this time before knocking on her door. Once it opened, you saw her in the same outfit, shoes on and keys in hand, shock and confusion clear on her face
"Oh, um, I was just coming to see you-"
"Just shut up." You snap "Im done, okay? I'm DONE playing these stupid games. I don't want you! You've been nothing but a pain in my a** for far to long! I'm ending it, here and now."
"How...how DARE you!" She gasped, that familiar fire in her eyes "You don't get to talk to me like that! I was coming over to break up with you!!"
"Tough luck, sweetheart! Not everything is about you! Sucks that I beat you to it, but get over yourself!" You scoff "Im outta here, b*tch. I'll save you a seat in hell!" With that, you turned and walked back towards your bike, getting on before she could say anything or stop you.
Of course, you should've guessed how it would happen. After all, the first way she died was via out of control vehicle. The impact wasn't terrible, and honestly the irony had you almost letting out a chuckle before you hit the pavement headfirst, finally ending the cycle.
Well, for you, that is.
Hope she enjoys the loop. | 39 | You've been stuck in a time loop where your angry girlfriend dies everytime after breaking up with you. You've tried saving her countless times, but fail. One day, you found out how to save her and break out of the loop. But there is a cost you must pay. | 44 |
The idiots had bought it sight unseen.
Sure, it's a hot property market. Sure, they were moving in from out of town. Sure, they were apparently young and impecunious.
But who sees a property that's sat unsold for three years at half the price of every other house in the neighborhood and thinks, *yeah, there's nothing wrong with that that I can't fix*?
Action at a distance is not impossible for the corporeally challenged (indeed, it's usually easier than plain old action when your hands pass through everything), but the distance is relative of course. And when your spirit is tied to the house in which it died, it's hard to reach out across space and time to a young family on the other side of the country.
I'd managed to materialize briefly, just as the family was sitting down to dinner, but it had been so faint that only the cat had sensed me and by the time they had calmed their spitting and snarling furball, I'd lost my grip on reality, and could only watch as they laughed at the antics of their precious Felix, and joked that maybe they didn't need to move to a new place to get a haunted house.
It's easier in our own house of course, because we are stronger there and because there are so many of us. We can be seen, in the corner of your vision as you glance over shadowy corners of a room, or as a door that slams shut behind you harder than it should have done. We are the flicker in the electric lights despite the new wiring, and the howl of wind in the upstairs hallway on even the most windless of days.
We are the reason why the locals say the house is haunted, but only after too much to drink and never in front of unwary out-of-towners who might be tempted to see for themselves.
After my first failed attempt, I'd possessed a raven and flown it through night and day, through lashing storm and burning sun, to land on the porch of the perfectly nice house on the other side of the country that was fronted with a "Sold" sign and a movers truck. I'd cawed three times loudly, as a witch had once told the Chairman was proper, and tapped thrice more on the window, and they'd come out and thrown down some old crusts for me to eat. Apparently they were cleaning out the refrigerator, and it was only going to be wasted otherwise.
That night, at the meeting of the Homeowner's Association, the expressions on everyone's faces had been even gloomier than one normally expects at a conversation of ghosts.
"You can't win them all," said Miss Brown sadly, who had been one of the earliest owners, and was now the Secretary.
"Ah, well," said Mr Grigg, with much less dismay. Mr Grigg, I suspected, derived some satisfaction from knowing that he was not the only one who'd been lured here, who'd let avarice get the better of sense. Mr Grigg was one of a vocal minority who thought that if you were going to be miserable, you might as well spread it around. Mr Grigg and friends did not believe in the mission of saving the worthy, not when it only emphasized your own shortcomings.
From the head of the table, a ghost so faded as to be almost featureless spoke. "One more attempt," said the ghost we knew only as the Chairman, the OG himself. "We will try once more. A third and final time, as a witch once told me we might." He looked at me. "You, as the current owner of the House, must try once more. That is your curse."
"That is our curse," we intoned back.
The Chairman had never explained how the curse had arisen. Perhaps, as he claimed, he genuinely did not know. Or, perhaps he had forgotten. I suspected that he did know and didn't want to tell us how he had hexed a house that had ensnared us all, whether through greed, or bravado, or desperation.
Because we had all bought this house in our day, despite the best attempts of those who had owned it before to warn us away. We had ignored the signs and the omens. And then, on the fifth day, the house had collapsed on each and every one of us.
We had thought that a haunted house was not that bad, that it needed a strong stomach, or a lick of paint, or a less imaginative mind. And perhaps we would have been right if all the house had been was haunted.
But as much as we haunted the house, the house haunted us, because this was not just a haunted house but a cursed house, and we were the souls of those it had damned.
---
More stories for nights in lonesome October at r/jd_rallage | 154 | a benevolent ghost tries to warn the owners of a house that it was not cheap because they died there, but because the foundations will collapse in 5 days, unfortunately, ghost law states that you can only communicate in foreboding, vague, unspecific messages | 672 |
I walk into the restaurant, dressed up in my best suit. When on dates, I always try to casually slip in my true identity, so they can choose quickly if they want to commit to my choice of work. Of course, I don't do this carelessly - I always make them swear that they won't tell anyone, and half the time they *do leave* **because** of my identity, ranging from 'I don't know if I can keep it a secret', to 'I can't live in constant danger', to worries about how their family would feel, and even as far as being worried about putting myself and/or any potential children in danger!
The other half the time they leave... is before I can even mention it, so yeah, they dating scene isn't going great for me, but my best friend set me up on a blind double date; he doesn't know who I am, but he knows I'm looking for a strong, independent woman who isn't afraid and can handle herself, so I trust him with whoever he set me up with.
I spot the table where he and his girlfriend already are... and *THE WHIP???* I guess she wasn't expecting her nemesis to show up either, judging by her reaction. Her outfit is the same that I'm used to, just... a bit more appropriate, with a different design and colour. Shrugging, I just head over. *Be cool. Neither of us knew this would happen. We were both just expecting a date.*
"Hey, Silo! Meet your future wife, Valerie!"
"RON!" I snap.
Ron's girlfriend, Lia, rolls her eyes. "He won't. I've been trying for about half an hour. He did at least tell you how I know her, right?"
"You both take self-defence and ballet classes" I respond.
The Whip, I mean Valerie, giggles. "That's right. Combine the two, I'm safe from **any** man" she says with a wink.
"Sounds reasonable" I respond as I sit down, trying to keep my tone calm and relaxed.
The Whip... formidable and powerful, she commands people to her will using, as you may guess, whips. Something about them sends people into a trance - once she snaps one, the person it's aimed at instantly falls under her command. She tried all of them to get me to surrender, until she learned that one of my powers is Steel Mind, I cannot be manipulated or controlled. I mean, I can turn it off, but why would I?
"So, what do you do for work?" I ask, knowing full-well her main occupation, but every villain and hero needs a cover job to hide themselves, and she'd never reveal her *real* occupation to people.
"I work as a receptionist" Valerie responds. "It's harder than most people expect, and the pay could be better, but it's enough to get by. What about you?"
"Janitor. I... I get very stressed very easily, it's about the only job I can manage..." I respond nervously, knowing full well I'm exposing my weaknesses to my enemy.
"Silo, I keep telling you just put yourself out there!" Ron retorts. "What about those therapy sessions and relaxation classes?"
"I keep telling you I'm far too busy for that!" I sigh and stand up. "I need some air." I walk over to the restaurant balcony.
Valerie joins me outside. "What a friend you have, huh, Torrent?"
I look at her. "He can be very pushy. He's almost as bad as you!" She gives me a punch on the arm and I laugh, her smiling at me.
Then she frowns. "Everything you said in there? It's true?" I nod. "And... if you didn't have *me* to worry about..."
I narrow my eyes at her. "You're not about to tell me you're going to quit your villainy, are you?"
Valerie laughs. "I'm not dense, not even an idiot would buy that! But we both know that a good villain-hero relationship involves a level of respect and care for each other. Enemies or not, our fights shouldn't put such a burden on you."
"You're right. But... neither of us are just going to stop what we're doing. If you don't I can't, and as you said, everyone knows you won't. So I'm just stuck in this endless loop...
"Let's not think about it right now" she responds. "Our dinner should be here already. Let's go back inside. Our friends are waiting."
So we both go back in, and on the table is the biggest lobster I've ever seen! We all dig into it and just make sure to have a good time. Though I notice, the longer the evening progresses, the more and more I fall for Valerie. She seems like a really good person, and I swear she keeps giving me flutter eyes...
When it's time to leave, I offer to drive Valerie back to her place (her friend brought her here), and she accepts. We get into my car. There's an awkward silence for a moment as we begin down the road.
"So... it was a really fun evening tonight, wasn't it?" I ask.
"It was very pleasant" Valerie responds. "I have to confess... I saw a whole new side of you; I had no clue how vulnerable you were!"
"You don't seem to have that issue. Your confidence was quite overwhelming! Makes me wonder why you do what you do..."
"I've always enjoyed the feeling of having someone under my command. It's satisfying... it's hard to explain..."
I burst out laughing, which gets Valerie mad. "You think that's funny? Maybe you need to be taught a lesson!"
I cannot help it for the life of me. "Sure, get out your whip and command me, master!"
Valerie goes bright red. "What's your problem?"
I regain my composure. "I'm so sorry, but I don't think you want to be a villain; you just want someone for your bidding, whatever it may be!"
"THAT-" she stops herself a moment. "Ok, maybe you're right..."
"How about this then" I say, "if you stop being a villain, I can quit being a hero. Then we can keep spending time together. What do you say?" I've just pulled up to her house.
She leans over and kisses me on the lips. "Ok. See you tomorrow evening then?"
"Promise" I respond. Valerie gets out of the car, and waves at me as I drive off.
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Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 153 | You’re a superhero, and your best friend, who doesn’t know your secret, sets you up on a blind double date. You instantly recognize your date as your main villain, and vice-versa. Halfway through the date, you begin to enjoy your villain’s company. | 338 |
The suburbs of Sappho-six glistened in every shade of blue, marred only by a single patch of black. The corner lot on West and Marigold.
“Crying shame, Gibby. She wasn’t even sixty, right? Young for a house. Might still be in her RMA period.” The neighbor, Paul something, spit into the still living yard. “I remember when I saw that blue floating down the road, first one of her roof feathers to go, crying shame.”
“That’s the worst part of all of this,” Gilbert said. “The doctor could never figure out why she was dying, so we never qualified for any relief programs and we can’t negotiate any kind of refund because all the forms require a cause of death with proof. There’s no way the bank will approve another loan, and there’s no way we can pay this one off.”
“Boy, rough. Anyways, be seeing ya!” Paul waddled back to his own house. He clicked gently as Paul petted his flank. Did the houses mourn each other?
The front awning was already sagging enough, Gilbert had to duck a little to get through to the front door. He had to figure something out.
“How’s Molly?” Gilbert asked Jane. She was staring intently at something in the kitchen. The water still worked for now, but once the rot set in.
“She doesn’t want to talk yet. Still crying. No girl should have to lose her house so young.” She was stabbing something into the walls and then rubbing it on plastic sheets laid out over the counters.
“What are you doing?”
“Housebird chemical testing kit. It’s a long shot, but if I can get a hit on something, it may be enough for a cause of death.”
“The doctors already did all that.” Gilbert pulled at his hair. “How much did a kit like that cost?”
“$400,” she said. “I had to buy under the table from someone. They don’t sell these anymore. Maybe the doctor missed something, like I said, a longshot.”
“We need to start saving our money. We’re gonna end up renting and still paying down the mortgage on this place.”
“This place loved us, Gill, and I loved her too.” Jane raised her hands up and let them drop to her sides. “If there’s any chance I can figure out what happened to her, I’m gonna take it. I don’t care if I’m working overtime till Molly’s through college.”
“Okay, okay,” Gill said. “I need a drink.”
“I added in ice to the back cooler, grab from there.” She returned to work. He had his form of stress relief and she had hers.
Gill stepped through the house, once a marvel of modern bioengineering, now a macabre husk. Bits of the frame flaked off as he opened the door to the garage. How long before they had to move everything out? Before the smell started? As much as he hated Bondantu right now, their website was probably the best place to start.
“If they just didn’t sterilize them before they sold them, every house could have a happy litter. Pretty soon, everyone in America, heck, everyone on Earth could have a home, for free. But of course, the companies didn’t want that.”
“Gill! Get in here!” Jane yelled.
He tripped on a cracked stair as he rushed back to the kitchen. She was standing, arms crossed and tapping her leg. “Look! There it is, plain as day.”
He leaned over, looking at the test readout fields. White meant no chemical detected and the darker red a box was, the higher the levels detected. One box was lit up red, another so dark it was almost black.
“Strychnine, our house was poisoned,” Gill said. “Who would be sadistic enough to kill someone’s home?”
“No clue,” Jane said. “But we did it. We can start filing paperwork. I don’t even know what’s this other one, BDmHB chorionic gonadotropin, what a mouthful. The chart doesn’t explain more”
“I’m looking it up,” Gilbert said, hands shaking. “That’s impossible.”
“What?” Jane asked. “Now’s not the time to be cryptic.”
“A BDmHB chorionic gonadotropin test is done in Bondantu factories to measure the amount of the hormone in blood or urine of an unsterilized female to see if the House bird is pregnant.”
“Get the sledgehammer, Gill. We need to get to the basement,” Jane said.
—---------------
Bondantu Company is facing tens of thousands of lawsuits across the United States filed by individuals who allege packets of lethal poison were secretly attached to house birds sold between 2054-2061, set to activate if the sterilization process failed and fertilized eggs were detected. The first trial against Bondantu ended on August 10, 2062 with a unanimous jury verdict of $989 million for a Ferndale, Colorado family.
In 2063, criminal charges of animal abuse were brought against Bondantu alleging evidence of these packets found surgically implanted in the homes prior to sale. This case is ongoing. If found guilty, the company may be required by the judge to give up all patents and trademarks to House Bird technology, allowing anyone to grow, raise, and live in House Birds without fear of reprisal by Bondantu.
/r/surinical | 40 | In a semi near future where biological self repairing material is used to construct everyday items like cars, houses, etc., these things age and die like any other life form. The story would be a day in the life of a family whose house just died, and they are dealing with the loss. | 141 |
"So can I still eat chocolate?"
It shouldn't have been a problematic question. But seeing as Isabella had just ingested at least 3 pounds of raw chicken on a whim. It gave the others pause.
"Uh. Maybe?" Dave mentioned as he watched her.
"Well can I?" Izzy said, she hopped a little on her feet. Claws digging at the tile.
"I... I never tried. So I don't know." He admitted.
"Sasha?" Isabelle stopped chewing. A look of apprehension and sadness welling up. "Can we eat chocolate?"
Sasha scratched behind her ear. Before quietly starting off, "I mean, I always liked bacon or deer, or something... I didn't... Really..."
She dropped the piece of chicken she'd been eating and gawked at everyone. "You've been werewolves your entire lives, and nobody here has eaten chocolate? Ever?"
There was another moment of discomfort as Dave tried to work his phone's screen. But his hands were too big to work the screen without scratching the glass.
"Hey. Don't we have a tablet?"
"The kids broke the tablet."
"Why would they, nevermind." Dave thought aloud. "Hey, Ricky!"
"What?"
"Come here!"
Rick, of all people, was in fact the one who accidentally exposed Isabella to their unfortunate secret. And started the chain of events that led to her getting bit. The highs and lows of online dating.
"Yeah?" Rick said, ducking under the door to come in.
"Can we eat chocolate?!" She snapped before the others could say anything. She grabbed him and dragged him down to her level, headlocking him on the kitchen floor. As big as he was she still had him pinned.
Rick ignored her and slowly began prying her loose. Eventually he managed to get her at an arm's reach, so he could possibly explain.
"Izzy, look-"
"You turned me into a monster!" Izzy paused. That felt offensive. "Sorry."
Everybody else ignored that.
"And now, I can't eat chocolate!"
"How do you know!?" Rick shouted back.
Izzy shoved a rather large chocolate bar up to him. "Can you EAT it?!"
"Uh, well." Rick said. "I, um, I used to be a diabetic."
For someone new to the whole 'enhanced senses' thing, she had no problem tackling him back out the sliding door and into the yard. Of course, this got quickly broken up by Dave. Just because they were having an argument did not mean they got to destroy the house.
"You're diabetic?" Izzy whined.
Rick shook some loose fur off. "I mean, I was."
"That really shouldn't matter." Sasha began as she made them pick both doors up and set them to the side of the porch. "Wait, type 1 or 2?"
"2?" Rick sulked. "Food tastes good."
"No shit. You don't say?" Dave said as he looked at the damage. "I got a friend coming by to solve the problem. He knows more about this than me."
Grey checked his documents and looked at the werewolf eyeing a giant chocolate bar. Then at the others and back to her.
"You called me here. To see if she could eat chocolate. At 2 in the morning?" Grey sighed. "What's wrong with you?"
Dave leaned against a very strained couch. "Just tell them."
The elf considered his documents. Checked his phone. Then the files again. He tried to ignore the giant puppy eyes following him from across the table.
"I mean, it doesn't say you can't. I haven't seen anything about werewolves dying from chocolate." He noted.
"See??" Rick said from the back of the room.
"Shut up." Everybody reacted.
Isabella didn't even waste time. Before they could react, she was halfway through the bar. Although she did try to poke one of Grey's ears randomly as she did so.
"Where'd you even find a two pound bar of chocolate at?"
"The internet."
"Oh."
"Okay. We can eat chocolate. Crisis averted." Sasha pawed her face. "Thanks, doc."
Nobody paid attention until Izzy began rubbing her stomach. It growled as loud as she did.
"Umm..." Grey realized. "Izzy?"
"Hey, so. Maybe it's the chicken, or something. But I-"
She burped a little and sat back.
"Izzy?"
Dave leaned up. "Are there side effects or something?"
Grey shook his head. "I mean with normal dogs it might make them vomit. But she should be-"
"HURRRrrrk-"
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 81 | Recently turned werewolf is wondering if he or she can still have chocolate or not. The other werewolves are afraid to answer. | 130 |
(I am very sorry for this one, but when the idea hit me, I HAD to do it. It was a Moral Imperative. Please don't hurt me)
It had been one hell of a fight. The Dragon had been terrorizing villages all across the Five kingdoms, kidnapping cattle and eating maidens for the last month. They had lost six good men in taking it down finally, Captain Benjamin had been one of the ones who had fallen, his young squire picking up the fallen knight’s sword and landing the killing blow.
For his service the Square was knighted, and appointed to a Lieutenant’s post in the Capital. He too had been injured, though not nearly as grievously as his comrades, which was lucky for the young Lieutenant. Dragon fire was notoriously hard to treat. Fortunately the Lieutenant merely had a small wound where one of the beast's fangs had merely nicked him, while the man next to him was bitten in two. This small injury healed rapidly, and he thought nothing of it for several weeks.
It wasn’t until the next month when he began to notice his vision changing. Before , he could not see as well as most, his archery not up to the standards of his peers. This had changed, and he soon could see as good as an eagle, though the color of his eyes changed from their normal bean brown to more of an orange hue. Odd, but considering some of the people in the Capital city, not too strange.
The skin condition however started to alarm him. Fortunately, it was easily concealable for the most part. The scales were not visible unless he took his shirt off and to be honest, they did shimmer rather handsomely in the light. Three days later, wings were beginning to develop, and he began to panic.
“So when did you say this happened?” The Mage peered at the budding wings, flapping almost comical in their small size.
“Yesterday Sir.”
The mage nodded “and the scales, would they be the same color as the dragon you slew? Are you sure it did not injure you?”
“Well…there was this small nick on my arm…” Leaning closer, the Mage pulled out a magnifying glass. He waved his other hand, glowing runes forming around the small mostly healed puncture wound. “What color was this dragon anyway?”
“It was ..well i'd have thought it was green, but it had a bluish glow to it when it was in the shadows.”
“Ah. Thought so.” The old mage stroked his beard, looking satisfied. “It’s rare, as most people don’t survive being bitten…but I’m afraid you’ve been bitten by what we mages call a Radioactive dragon.”
Lieutenant Parker blinked “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re turning into an amazing Dragon-man, with the strength, powers and agility of a Dragon."
The lieutenant sighed “oh well, Captain Ben did always tell us with great power comes great responsibility.” | 24 | After defeating a dragon which devastated your group, you start to develop odd traits like reptilian eyes. It soon becomes apparent to you that you’re slowly turning into a dragon. | 56 |
My earliest memories can only be described with one word… pain. Agony, the likes of which I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemies. I still remember the doctor visits; those cold, drab rooms always scared me. After countless tests, we were given one word. A word that was a box of nails in my proverbial coffin. Osteosarcoma, bone cancer to the uninitiated.
At first, there was dread. A terror the likes of which can never be described. I distinctly remember my parents just crying and crying and then nothing. Everyone became extra kind to me. Even in my naive mind, I could tell something was not going well. Then dad disappeared. Everyone told me he’d be back any day. That he just needed to compute what was happening.
When he did return, the doctors were already in the process of writing case studies about me—a miracle recovery. Countless samples and tests were run, but I was given the all-clear. For the first time in my short life, I was free of agony and free to live my life how I wished. I never asked dad about where he went though. By the time I truly understood what was happening, I could empathise with him retreating.
So I went on with life. Grew up from a small child to a young adult. I was enjoying the freedom I had somehow been blessed with. Freedom, though, is fleeting. I found this out when I blew out the candles on my birthday cake at my eighteenth birthday party. The very second the last flame went out, the doorbell rang.
My first thought was it must’ve been a relative who was running late. But a glance at my dad, whose complexion was going ghostly white, I began to wonder who it was. My little sister answered the door and let them in. A man in a simple suit with a pair of glasses resting on his nose looked at me enquiringly.
“It is time to collect Master Sampson,” his near ethereal voice seemed to echo around our small dining room.
“Who are you?” I could only tilt my head in confusion at this stranger.
“Is this a prank?” I asked, turning to see the pallid expressions on both my parent's faces.
“Son…” my dad’s voice began before trailing off.
“Remember when you were very poorly when you were little?” my mum asked in the tone she had used when I was a child.
“Yes?” I replied, wondering where this was going.
“Well, your recovery that was described as a miracle was more an apt description than the doctors realise,” she finished looking guiltily at the man who was just looking at me as if I were a product.
“We made a deal, son. A deal to save your life. A deal with this man,” dad gestured to the man. I was now sure this was a joke.
“And who might he be?” I asked, making my incredulity as clear as day in my tone of voice.
“I go by many monikers. But you’d probably know me as Lord Hades,” he answered.
“Isn’t your hair meant to be flaming?” I joked. He, however, just frowned.
“Don’t let my false and muddled representations confuse you. I am the real deal; I am here to collect the man I was promised. A lifetime of servitude in exchange for that lifetime being guaranteed.” His face didn’t even flinch. He clearly must be a well-paid actor for this prank.
“Ok, so to get this straight, my illness was cured by you,” I gestured to the man calling himself Hades, to which he nodded. “And my parents did this without my consent?” my parents flinched and avoided eye contact.
“Consent of guardians sufficed. If you wish to renege on the deal, I shall allow this,” Hades said, looking between me and my parents.
“Ok, I wish to annul this arrangement,” I said firmly, feeling the joke seemed to be losing its traction. Hades merely nodded, held up his right hand and snapped his fingers, causing a flash of light and smoke to billow from them. In that second, an agony I had forgotten had returned, and I collapsed against the table.
“If you truly wish to annul this arrangement, I shall annul my contribution to the contract,” his words held no malice. He was simply stating it as a fact.
“Please, Lord Hades!!! He doesn’t know about any of this!!” my mum was now begging on her knees. I could already feel my vision blur from the pain.
“Ignorance is not an excuse. However, I am not evil, despite how I am depicted. I am merely letting him experience life without my blessing. He can make a decision whether to honour the deal,” Hades explained calmly as he sat opposite me and held out a hand.
“Years ago, your father came to me offering his soul for your life. But I have little need for a withered thing like that when it will be mine in the end. But his impassioned pleas convinced my darling wife to aid you. So I shall offer the very same deal. A long healthy life in exchange for servitude for the duration of that life,” his ruby red eyes looked into mine. I couldn’t brush this off as a joke anymore and took his hand in mine.
At the moment of contact, a flash erupted, and the pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Looking at the man I was now set to serve, I could see relief in his eyes.
“Good… I take no pleasure in suffering. Know this boy, so long as you are loyal and serve well, you shall not suffer.” his words, for whatever reason, felt comforting.
“I shall let you say your goodbyes; after today, you shall accompany me about my duties.” he rose and left the room.
“I’m sorry, son,” my dad cried as he fell to his knees before me. “I tried everything. I offered everything, but they would only take one price. I did this to save your life. To save my son,” his eyes gleamed with tears welling up in them.
“I…” I honestly didn’t know what to say. Meer minutes ago, I was blowing out candles, and now I’m a servant of a Greek God. “I understand,” I finally said as I rested a hand on his shoulder. If my illness gave me anything, it was perspective on life. I guess working for a god might be interesting.
With a final long and deep hug from each family member, I rose and greeted my new master at the front door. He opened it, and beyond was only a void.
“What will I be doing, sir?” I hesitantly asked, looking at Hades. A man whose every depiction made him seem worse than Satan.
“Mainly data entry, accounting. Odd interview with a soul in Elysium. Despite how your media depicts me, I’m a glorified accountant/lawyer. It’s my wife you gotta fear,” he said with a grin before stepping into the void. With a final look back at my home I stepped in behind him. | 33 | When you were a child, you had a crippling, life-shortening illness. You mysteriously recovered, and now you've learned it's because your dad bound you in service to an ancient god. And now it's time to serve. | 93 |
"You're banging my sister?" the hero asked. "Well I'm cheating on yours. And my sister has herpes. And when I wounded you, I made sure not to make it a killing blow because I wanted you to survive. You see, my blade had been dipped in a special brew that causes permanent impotence.
"Not only that, but my sister secretly video-recorded you naked, and she posted it online. Now everyone can see for themselves that the rumors are true about how small you are. And my sister has told everyone she knows about all the weird things you asked her to do, and she's told everyone you know, including your fellow villains. And now they've lost all respect for you and won't help you the next time you need backup.
"And since you've revealed your identity to me, everyone will know that the villain they once feared is a loser with weird fetishes and a micro pee pee."
Just then, the hero got a text notification on his phone.
"Oh look, my sister just sent me a link of that video. Two million views and counting. Let me forward it to you."
But before he could do that, the hero had to knock the villain's own blade out of his hand before he could stab himself with it.
"Oh no," said the hero. "You will live. Now you just sit tight and wait for the paramedics to get here. I just sent you the link. You can watch the video while you're waiting." | 12 | "You may have me beat now but know I will always have this victory over you" the villain pulls off his mask revealing the hero's brother in law "I banged your sister" | 95 |
There was a princess of the Althero Kingdom, and they called her the Unlucky Princess.
How unlucky, the castle's maids would whisper, that her mother had been just a commoner girl the king had fancied, and who had died at childbirth.
How unlucky, the nobles of the court would smirk, that she was so bookish and plain and of common birth, not beautiful as a princess should be, nor nearly as graceful.
How unlucky, the people would frown, that just as she became of age, the kingdom sent her of as a sacrifice for the Demon King.
(How unlucky for the Althero Kingdom, the court magician thought, that his King never cared that she was amazing at magic, for it wasn't a feminine enough pursuit. With a vindictive flair, he packed his bags and books, and left. And if a new court magician appeared at the Demon King's court shortly after, well, isn't that unlucky too?)
...
There was a princess sent to the Demon Kingdom, and they called her the Lucky Princess. She was the most accomplished human magician across all Kingdoms, and her marriage to the Demon Prince was long and loving, and they had many children. With her help, the Demon Kingdom flourished. | 441 | As the youngest child of the king no one was surprised when your father chose you to be sent as a hostage to the demon king. What was surprising however was the demon king treating you better than you had ever been and even offering you the hand of his offspring. | 1,399 |
G'tho'kl scuttled through the ship's vents. He hadn't been able to sleep all resting cycle. After all, it wasn't every day a human came to visit. The captain wasn't able to afford a resident human, but once in a while, another ship would pull up alongside for trade, or news. And some of them had humans. G'tho'kl couldn't resist clacking his claws together in excitement. If there was a human, there would be music.
Music. The very word sent shivers through his shell. He'd overheard the crew members talking about it, heard them whisper about the magic that humans possessed, their ability to rearrange sounds in complex patterns. Poor G'tho'kl had never had the chance to hear music. But today he was determined. Even if it got him caught, he was going to hear the human make the music.
His segmented legs clicked against the metal of the vents as he ran across the ship. Light flashed and faded again as he passed the outlets. Voices rose loud, then cut off suddenly as if severed with a sharp knife. The route was easy enough, especially for a stowaway of G'tho'kl's calibre. He only had to jump through an exposed area once, and with his eight legs, he had no problems gathering speed.
Finally, he reached one of the outlets in the main mess hall. Here was where the human would perform, to the largest crowd it could gather. Carefully, G'tho'kl clamped his claws around the bars of the grate, pulling it back into the vent. No one ever looked up, and he wanted an unrestricted view. Hopping on top of it, he peered down into the hall. He'd made it in time.
There, in front of the first long table, stood one of the fleshy bipeds known as humans. It was still weird to G'tho'kl that they had no exoskeletons to protect them. The human was holding a strange contraption, some sort of folded box-like thing, with black and white levers on the side. Before G'tho'kl could fully settle himself, it emitted a sound like he'd never heard before. Then another, indescribable noise. Music.
G'tho'kl lost himself in the sound, swaying in time to the infectious beat. When it was over, he joined his small clicking claws to the thunderous applause. And the unthinkable happened. The human looked up.
Their eyes widened, and they whispered something to a black box on their wrist. Before G'tho'kl could scuttle back into the vent, a steel mesh net closed around him, dropping him to the ground. Because of his chemical makeup, he bounced. A crewmember snatched up the net, holding it away from any delicate areas, as G'tho'kl was trying to grab anything he could with his long front claws. The room spun around him as the crew member slid up between the tables towards the human, dumping him unceremoniously in front of them.
The human knelt, at a safe distance from G'tho'kl's writhing. They pressed a button on their black box; then spoke slowly and clearly.
"Hey, calm down little dude. Nobody's gonna hurt you. I was just surprised to see a crab on a spaceship, that's all. Chill man." Though the words were strange, even stranger was the kindness in the human's eyes. G'tho'kl stilled, staring up at them, clicking his claws to show he wasn't afraid.
"There you go. How about this? You do one click for yes, and two clicks for no. Unless you have a voicebox?" The human pointed at their black box. G'tho'kl clicked twice.
"Nice! You're a smart dude, I can tell." The human lowered their voice. "Are you a stowaway on the ship?"
One click for yes.
"And do you like music?"
Again G'tho'kl clicked once. Then he raised his claws into the air, trying to simulate applause for the human. The biped's face split in their terrifying expression they called a smile.
"Nice, mate. All right, here's what I'm gonna do." The human rummaged in their bag, before jumping in surprise. They pulled out another black box, frowning down at it.
"Huh. Forgot I had this one. Ok, little dude, this won't hurt, but I'm gonna put this on your shell. Then you'll be able to speak to me. I've got a proposal for you." G'tho'kl swivelled his eyestalks tracking the human's progress as they attached the black box to his shell. There was a tiny spike of pain, and he could feel the tech working in his body, giving him the ability to speak.
"So, little dude. Do you want to come with me? It will give you a chance to hear more of my music, and get you off this ship, cause judging by the dark looks everyone's giving you, I don't think they like stowaways." The human raised the furry bits above their eyes. About to click in response, G'thro'kl instead tried to speak. The noise was still sharp-edged, he couldn't seem to get the softer sounds, but it would work.
"Yes. I come with you. We make music." Again the terrifying smile, and the human reached out, untangling the metal net. As soon as he was free, G'tho'kl scurried to the bag, ducking inside it. The human chuckled, rising and swinging the bag onto their shoulder. Picking up their instrument, they played song after wonderful song, that G'tho'kl enjoyed from the comfort of his new hiding place. When the human finally finished, and they were returning to the human's ship, he summoned the courage to ask what kind the delightful music this human played was. G'tho'kl had heard that they separated their music into kinds.
The human smiled, a slightly less horrifying expression with their mouth closed.
"What I play, little dude, " They answered. "Is the Polka."
And even though G'tho'kl didn't know what that was, he knew he'd never heard anything as beautiful as a polka.
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Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! | 218 | Humans were thought to be unremarkable. . . until we realized the aliens had never heard music before. We’re not space engineers, or galactic mercenaries; we’re space bards. | 702 |
The cute iridescent ball of scales and furr purred as I stroked it. I had hoped to give this lecture later as part of my eighth week syllabus but I could see it was needed sooner. I obviously had some talented students and I needed to head off trouble before we had another zompire incident.
Stroking the newly created dragon-cat in my arms, I stepped in front of the lectern. I needed them to hear me and pay attention.
"All right everyone get to your seats. We have to discuss something vitally important"
Students quickly shuffled to their desks and turned to face me. Taking a deep breath I said what I knew they didn't want to hear.
"As fun as it might be. As cool as they may sound. We do not make hybrids. EVER." An audible gasp could be heard throughout the room.
"But why? If we have the skills, why cant we make things like the dragon-cat, or a pigeon-dog?"
"Good question. Why cant you make things if you have the skill? Short answer. You don't have the skill". There were murmurs. "NOT you don't know how. You have to KNOW what you made". I tried to emphasize the word know for a reason. "This dragon-cat for example. How strong will it be? Its a cat backed up by the stone muscles and breath of a dragon. Ever try to give a house cat a bath?"
A chorus of "yeahs" floated back to me in response. "Mr Biggles, Snowball, Patches didn't take too well to it did he?" This time it was a chorus of "No"s followed by nervous laughter.
"Right, now imagine what our new friend here might do? Scratch you? Bite you? Roast you. And possibly burn your house down in the process." That got their attention. Everyone looked around at each other.
"Then there's another question. How big will it get"? I continued as I rubbed my new friends belly. "Will it be no bigger than this or will it become too big to house? The answer to that is what did the caster base with? Did his incantation ask for a cat with dragon abilities, or a dragon that he could treat like a house cat?" Collective murmurs from the class.
In the second row a hand timidly raised into the air. It was Mathew Swain. A good kid. Very bright. His steel blue eyes and loose curled black hair would carry him far. That bright talented mind he had would get him into trouble though. He liked to ask questions. A sure sign of someone with the potential to become a top spellcaster.
"So you're saying we cant ever create hybrids?"
"Its not something we recommend no. Nature has a balance and rules that it follows. When you try to circumvent those rules, bad stuff can happen. Take the Sheepshead fish. Someone wanted a fish that would be good disposal. The problem is it got out in the wild and bred with local Perch. Now they can be found on three coastlines. And they're threatening to overwhelm lake fish populations." I paused and surveyed the fresh young faces. I think I was getting thru to them.
"Some spellcasters have been known to create wonderful things. Lion-dogs for example. They are great protective pets that can handle themselves. Many that have tried, created monsters that they could not contain. Hence we have the Grass-Man of Ohio, and the Goatman. Two very magical and violent hybrids. They are rarely seen, however, they are reported to be quite dangerous." I looked around the room to see many faces looking rather pensive.
The bell rang just as I was about to continue. "alright. Thats the next class bell. You all better get going. And remember. Unless you can defeat it, never summon a hybrid"
Slowly they all milled out, meanwhile, I continued to stroke my scaley little friend. The dragon-cat was still purring softly. It's forked tongue licked out as it yawned, sleepily.
Guess I had a new pet. "I wonder what to name you" I thought outloud | 10 | It's less than two weeks into the new school year, and the dragon-cat sitting on your desk shows that you already need to dust off the "why we don't create new hybrids" lecture for the new students | 32 |
"Man, this has got to be the hottest, driest summer we've ever had! Three fires already, and it's not even noon..."
Mark is right. It has been a brutal first week of July, and the forecast indicates that conditions aren't improving anytime soon. Our force is being stretched to its limits. Even with my... abilities, I'm starting to feel worn down. Or maybe it's because I've been pulling double, triple, and even quadruple shifts to give our guys a chance to catch their breath.
Even superhumans have their limits, it seems. I can't afford to discover what mine is, at least not yet. Too many people need my help. I saved six lives today, four of which would have died if any of my fellow firefighters had been here instead of me.
"Hey, Isaiah, you with us?" Mark asks me. I stir from my introspection, turning my attention to the three other firefighters in the truck with me. Mark, Jacob, and Ruth. None of them are enhanced like me, but that hardly matters. They are wonderful people, strong and heroic, all willing to lay down their lives to save others.
I respond, "Yeah, sorry. Just a bit tired, that's all."
"Isaiah, tired?" says Ruth from the driver's seat, laughing a bit. "Didn't think I'd ever see the day."
"Eh, it was bound to happen eventually," I reply nonchalantly.
Jacob, ever the quiet one, gives me a thumbs up from the front passenger seat. I return the gesture with a smile as we pull into the station.
We are barely out of the fire truck before I can see Chief Burton, our department chief, approaching.
"Isaiah, front and center."
I jog over to where he is standing. "Yes sir?"
"You've got company. They're waiting in my office, and insisted that they speak to you alone."
"Who's they?"
"...The Foedere Vindices."
\---
I open the door to the Chief's office, and sure enough, I see five individuals waiting for me. The Foedere Vindices, our city's world-famous superhero league.
Fortis, the immortal. He is the leader of the team, gifted with strength, speed, and of course, invulnerability.
Ignis, the mistress of flame. Everything about her is fiery; her abilities, her hair, her temper.
Glacies, the ice man. Cold as they come, with the cryokinesis to match.
Callidus, the inventor. A brilliant woman, with only her mind as her superpower. Still, her inventions have leveled the playing field against many a supervillain, and it would be tantamount to suicide to underestimate her.
Astrum, the man from space. Nobody knows if he's actually from space, but that's the story that the shapeshifter tells everyone. He certainly seems alien enough.
"You are Isaiah, I presume?" asks Fortis.
"I am," I respond. "To what do I owe this honor? Surely you all have better things to be doing than talking to a simple firefighter."
"Cut the act," snaps Ignis. "We know about your abilities."
"Yes," says Astrum in an ethereal voice, "we have been watching you for some time, to find out if you have what it takes to-"
I interrupt, "I know where this is going, and the answer is no. I do not want to join the Foedere Vindices."
Four of the superhumans in the room bear shocked expressions. Callidus simply shrugs as if to say, "What did I tell you?"
After an awkward few seconds, Fortis laughs and says, "Surely you're joking. You have the skills, and you could be doing so much better than this."
"Really?" I respond. "You think that if I joined your team, I could save more lives? How many have died from the collateral damage from your battles?" I point at Ignis and say, "How many of *her* fires have I had to put out?"
"Now wait just a minute," Ignis snarls, her eyes glowing white with fury. Glacies puts a frost-bitten hand on her arm, and she calms down, her eyes returning to normal.
"You can't blame us for that," says Fortis. "If not for us, the damage these supervillains are causing would be far worse!"
"If not for you," I respond, "there might not be supervillains! Your very strength invites challenge! How many of your personal enemies have endangered and killed innocent people who would not have been in danger otherwise? I am already part of a good team, and I save lives every day without needing to grandstand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make sure this city doesn't burn to the ground during this heat wave."
I leave the office, and none of them stop me. Once the door is closed with me on the outside, I lean against the wall, exhausted. Did I say too much?
Through the door, I can hear Callidus say, "I told you he wouldn't be interested. I said as much in my intel report, after watching him for the past few weeks. He is a good man, and wants to save lives, but he feels that his work is good enough."
"I understand that," says Fortis, "but putting out fires? That's not real hero work; anybody can do that with a little bit of training! People like him are one in a million; he shouldn't settle for less than what he's capable of."
"Screw him," says Ignis. "We can defend the city just fine on our own."
"Well, he gave us his answer," says Astrum. "Perhaps we should return to the skybase, give him some time to think it over."
"I doubt his answer will change," says Callidus.
I hear what sounds like some kind of mechanical whirring device, and then the sound of a powerful jet engine that fires off and fades into the distance. Fortis's comment about my occupation plays on repeat in my mind.
Not real hero work? I'll show him what a true hero looks like...
\---
\~Stories by Sol | 55 | You’re nearly invulnerable, have incredible strength and the drive to do good for society. As a superhero? No. You’re a firefighter. One day, the world famous superhero team visits you. They say you’re not doing real good and you should join their ranks as a superhero. You quickly decline. | 76 |
**ETA Disclaimer: kinda graphic**
For three days and three nights Amos ran urgently back to his hometown as soon as foul wind carried the grim news-- the Philistine had rampage through Assyr, his beloved city.
The muscles of his legs were twitching, his feet calloused and bruised, his breath dragged. With all of his might he prayed to God that his city had not yet destroyed. With the same mouth he cursed his absence the night the barbarians came through, believing that without him there, God was not with his people.
"No...", he muttered defeated, seeing the burned buildings, citadels to ash, houses to rubbles, temples to ruins.
The distraught priest was so stunned, he did not fight nor struggle when his presence was found and the enemies captured him, binding Amos' limbs with ropes and mouth with cloth.
Disgustingly cheering their barbaric acts, the Philistines paraded the priest along the dead city's road, singing their dreadful songs, chanting their pillaging poems. As for Amos, he cried, unable to bear the sight yet he could not look away from the bodies strewn about his once beloved home.
"Speak your last words, priest", mocked the leader of the savages.
Amos was at a loss for words. His heart broken, his soul wrenched, his tears flowed. In this moment of despair, he could not bear to even speak...
With their sick sense of humor, the Philistine general held Amos' throat tight and pulled out his tongue. With his blade, he sliced it.
The sickening crunch was dampened by Amos' muffled screaming, and the crowd laughed even harder.
"Go ahead, priest. Pray to your beloved God!", mocked the crowd.
Hatred began to grow within Amos' heart. His faith wavered, finally.
What kind of God would let this kind of evil be done?
"Call upon your God, priest! No God, no angel could save you now!", the jeering continued.
And Amos snapped. If God and His heavenly customs did not offer a helping hand...then perhaps His opposite would...
Amos could not speak, but the darkness in his heart spoke more volume than any of his words could.
The atmosphere began to change around the men and their laughter stopped. Wind picked up, whirling around them, and electricity filled the air.
"What is this?!", screamed the general but his question was immediately answered as a door to another dimension was opened right in the middle of them.
From the door of light exited a being so foul, a mere sight of him was enough to frightened even these cold barbarians.
Cladded in black garment, the being was an emaciated man, a skeleton seemingly wrapped in a combination of pale and charred skin. His once golden hair was no more, replaced with metal wires coming in and out of his skull. His once beautiful wings were bound behind his back by rusty chains, crushing them.
His arms were broken, his legs were mangled for he was casted out from Heaven, crashing down onto the deepest pit of the earth. The fire of hell burned his skin. His mouth was sewn shut with black threads for he had blasphemed against his creator, the Heavenly Father.
This was Lucifer, the Fallen One. Angel to some...demon to others.
The Philistines screamed in terror as some tried to flee while some charged the abomination only to be stopped by strands of infernal chains shooting out from the dimension the being came from, wrapping around the men. Their wrists, ankles, necks, torsos, all bound so tight until they drew blood.
Amidst the chaos, Amos looked on, not fearfully, instead a euphoric glee filled his heart. Seeing his revenge enacted, seeing the men who had butchered his people suffered the same, even worse fate filled his heart with joy.
The being seemed to revel in his work as the men were nothing but flayed flesh and blood then. The sound of moaning they made were maddening though it was not for long as they were dragged into the adjacent dimension, this hellish dimension.
As the chaos subsided, there was nobody else there left but Amos and Lucifer.
Amos looked up to his savior and the fallen angel looked down to him.
Both were unable to speak, but a mutual understanding was reached. Amos had made a deal with the devil. In exchange for his soul, vengeance was given.
Though the devil was not without his own sick sense of humor. Lucifer waved his boney arm and more of those hellish chains came out once more, this time reaching every single slain people of Assyr, grabbing their heads, and putting them together like a nightmare-filled beads for the fallen priest to carry.
Amos screamed an inhuman yelp as the ends of these chains hooked onto the back of his head, the back of his hands, elbows, back, and ankles. Dooming Amos for an eternal fate of carrying the lives of the people he failed for his tardiness.
Moaning, Amos dragged himself to move as the chain of heads all created a nightmare symphony of painful cry. Lucifer smiled eerily through his sewn lips and welcoming Amos to his domain as one of his many fallen ones.
r/HangryWritey | 1,898 | You arrived late. Your town is burning, and the invaders have captured you. You, a priest, start the summoning prayer. "No point in summoning pacifist angels now", they laughed, "there's nothing left to defend". However, they forgot to consider, that Lucifer is also an angel. | 4,249 |
ACT I: FIRST CONTACT
*Scene: outside a house. A car pulls up and parks in the driveway, just outside the garage. A man and woman get out, walking arm in arm to the door. His name is Andy, hers is Crystal.*
CRYSTAL: "Ah, a weekend alone."
ANDY: "Hey, we've earned. It was so nice of your family to look after the kids."
CRYSTAL: "Oh, you know Mom enjoys it. Besides, it's been so many hectic years we've practically earned a little time off."
ANDY: "Yeah... it'll be just like the first years."
CRYSTAL: "You needn't sound so nostalgic. The kids are wonderful."
ANDY: "I know, but sometimes... you gotta get away."
CRYSTAL: "In this case, you gotta not get away."
*She giggles, then puts her key in the lock... only to hear the sound of a key falling out from behind the door.*
ANDY: "What's wrong?"
CRYSTAL: "I think someone's inside."
ANDY: "I got this." *He shouts through the door.* "Who's there?"
VOICE FROM INSIDE: "Just a minute!"
*Andy and Crystal share a surprised look. Crystal mouths 'did that sound like me' to Andy, who shrugs in confusion. Eventually, the door opens, and on the other side are...*
***Note from the fourth wall: for the sake of trying our best to avoid confusion, Andy-1 and Crystal-1 will be the couple coming home, and Andy-2 and Crystal-2 are the couple they see inside.***
*After a full minute of stunned silence...*
ANDY-1: "Who are you?"
ANDY-2: "Me? Who are you?"
ANDY-1: "I live here."
ANDY-2: "I live here!"
ANDY-1: "I have a key!"
ANDY-2: "You mean this key?" *He picks the key up that had fallen out of the lock.*
CRYSTAL-1: "Oh, enough of this!" *She barges past Couple #2 and into the house.*
CRYSTAL-2: "Hey! Get out, creep!"
CRYSTAL-1: "What did you call me?"
ANDY-2: "Honey, calm down, this isn't helping! Ahem... I guess we'd better sit down and work something out."
ANDY-1: "This makes no sense."
CRYSTAL-2: "There's no way you live here. I don't know where you got those disguises, but this is our house. We've lived here for years!"
CRYSTAL-1: "That's impossible! We just dropped our kids off with Grandma and came back."
ANDY-2: "Kids? How old are they?"
ANDY-1: "Seven and three... why?"
CRYSTAL-2: "We have two kids that age... and they're with Grandma right now."
*An eerie silence sets in.*
CRYSTAL-2: "Wait... what's your National ID?"
ANDY-2: "What's your Social?"
*Couple 1 begin writing something down. They hand it to their Couple 2 counterparts, who read it and go wide-eyed.*
CRYSTAL-2: "It's a match."
ANDY-2: "Same here."
CRYSTAL-1: "...but that means..."
CRYSTAL-2: "No way... I have a clone!?"
CRYSTAL-1: "I'm pretty sure I'm not a clone..."
ANDY-1: "Wait! Do you remember that meteor that we saw on the freeway? The one that nearly blinded us and stopped traffic for half an hour?"
BOTH CRYSTALS: "Yeah!"
ANDY-2: "Wait... you don't think that..."
ANDY-1: "It could have. We need to talk to scientists. With all the work being done on parallel universes... we should eliminate that possibility first."
\*\*\*\*\*
*Scene: a video conference with a leading astrophysicist, Dr. Hart.*
DR. HART: "Well, I'm glad you could contact me. We noticed the so-called 'meteor' you spoke of. It's an ultra-rare occurrence of multiversal intersect."
CRYSTAL-2: "Of what?"
DR. HART: "It's like this. You know how we say parallel universes? Well, most of the time, universes are parallel in the fifth dimension. So while they exist, you'd never know about them. However, if there's a disturbance of a great enough magnitude, universes can temporarily intersect."
ANDY-1: "How often are we talking about?"
DR. HART: "For any one universe, fairly common; but to intersect around Earth, usually no more than once year or so. The good news is that most intersections don't let through that much-- this one appears to have been Class 1."
CRYSTAL-1: "Out of how much?"
DR. HART: "Well, let me put it this way: the last time we had a Class 10, the highest number, [a giant meteor wiped out half of Siberia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tunguska_event)."
*A pause on the other end as our two couples try to imagine what else must have happened.*
DR. HART: "Fortunately, one like this is somewhat local. Usually no more than a few people swapping universes around the world. Actually, given our planet's high density, it's usually the case that we offload people rather than onload."
CRYSTAL-2: "That would explain [that one Parliament guy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Bingham,_7th_Earl_of_Lucan)."
DR. HART: "Potentially. What's interesting is that we have gained this time. That's very rare. It means that the Earth our universe intersected with is either similar or potentially more dense. Let me ask all of you -- men respond: how many billions of people live on earth?"
BOTH ANDYS: "Eight or so?"
DR. HART: "Okay, so there's a high probability your Earths are near-identical. It's not nonsense; you get enough universes and, you know, some details will be the same. It will make sorting things out as to who the visitors are much more difficult."
ANDY-2: "Great. Two of us have abandoned our children! Somebody here needs to get back!"
DR. HART: "I understand. But to re-intersect universes can be very difficult. For one thing, we need to figure out which one intersected. Then, we'd need to bend space to cause an overlap. This isn't something you can just do, as you can imagine. And that's on top of trying to figure out who's who."
CRYSTAL-1: "Well... you work on the universe thing, and we'll try to work on the ID thing."
DR. HART: "If it helps, I'll recommend you to a fellow here at Bohr. He has a background in psychology... he might be able to know how to tell which one is which. Would that be okay?"
CRYSTAL-2: "When's he available?"
DR. HART: "Well, I can get him to speak to you tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll work on the intersecting."
ANDY-1: "Thanks, Doc. I know a few kids who will be very appreciative."
DR. HART: "Not a problem. Talk to you soon."
*The conference ends. The two couples all look at each other.*
CRYSTAL-1: "So... what do we do tonight?" | 10 | When returning home from running errands with your partner you put the key on the door and hear a key fall out the other side. Curios how this is possible you enter and shout "hello?" only to find an exact copy of you and your partner rushing to the front door looking as puzzled as you. | 62 |
I stare at the medallion and decide that its way too early to deal with this.I start my usual morning routine:
1. getting up
2. getting dressed
3. starting the computer
4. reading stuff online till the last minute
5. hastily throwing on my jacket
6. sprinting to the bus stop
Working at the hardware store may not be that interesting, but I find myself busy enough to avoid thinking about what happened this morning. After a long day of work I get home and eat dinner. While chewing the mostly tasteless microwave food I think about what to do.
Whatever kind of paranormal spider did this, paid me rent instead of slitting my throat at night so I probably don't have to fear losing my life. I also never looked into the basement after buying this house so that's probably where they live. Besides I never really understood what people didn't like about spiders. Sure, cuddling with a spider wasn't exactly what I would consider an enjoyable past time, but they don't do much beside weaving webs and eating flies.
Deciding that it would be best to arrange myself with my unusual neighbors, I enter the attic and get my grandpas old typewriter. I put a message where I found the gold medal and put the typewriter on the table in the living room. Then I go to sleep.
When I wake up next morning I find a small, typewritten note on my bedside table.
*We accept and are in your debt.*
Good. I'm not all that interested in rent since I bought this house and am not short of money for the moment so I proposed another deal. *They* would keep any kind of bug out of my home and don't cause trouble and I would waive the rent and gift them the typewriter plus some paper so they can communicate properly.
\-------
A week has passed and everything seems to work out so far. I found new mosquito nets in my windows that look like they are made of spider silk and aside from that not much has changed.
Though my house is *suspiciously* clean despite me not cleaning up for a while now.
Until I wake up on saturday morning and find a note on my bedside table. Turns out an infestation of ghostly, life draining butterflies is endangering my garden and they have trouble getting rid of them since their nest is too well guarded. So they want me to get some stuff for them so they can get rid of the pests. Next to the note are clothes made of spider silk that I'm supposed to sell online to pay for the stuff they need.
You'd be surprised how much people are willing to pay for high quality spider silk clothes.
After that comes the troublesome part. Peppermint, a girolle, deadly nightshades, sunflower seed oil and pine needles should still be somewhat possible, but where am I supposed to find "Fire attuned Water" and "Starry Quartz"?
After thinking about it I gather the stuff I know how to get and go to sleep again. The next morning I find a note mentioning a paranormal shop as well as directions to follow.
They are a bit odd(How am I supposed to know how long "31 webs" are?) but ultimately I find the shop. Sadly there is no glass counter full of strange, magical artifacts but a simple wooden table. Turns out all the magical stuff is in the back room to prevent magical theft. After stepping out of the shop I'm surprised to find myself in front of the hardware store I work at, but in the end I'm grateful I don't have to find the way home.
Searching for the magic shop was exhausting so I simply put the bag next to my bed and collapse in it.
When I wake up the next day I find a message that tells me that the butterfly problem is taken care of and they warded my lawn to protect it from future pests.
Next to the note lies a "Good Luck Charm" that's supposed to protect me while I'm away.
After that its a day like every other. Except that the house feels just a tiny bit less lonely and I feel a little bit safer while I'm at work.
I always knew spiders aren't as bad as everybody makes them out to be........ | 217 | and upon investigation, you discovered what appears to be a solid gold medallion sitting on your bedside table. A series of silken strands cling to its surface, arranged in a pattern that appear to spell out the word, "RENT." | 435 |
“I wish you’d be my friend.”
The child’s eyes caught the light Genie was emitting, and sparkled. Genie was flummoxed. This was not a wish Genie had a prepared response for.
Mortals didn’t get along with phenomenal cosmic power well. They tended to push too hard and force a snap-back. Things had to balance. Genie had developed a hobby of balancing in as few wishes as possible.
“No you don’t, kid.” Genie’s voice creaked like a long disused gate to another world.
“Yes I do what’s your name?”
Genie blinked at the mortal child, looking at it for the first time. A female mortal stood in the cave before Genie’s luminous presence. This mortal was in their development stage, requiring the attendant care of more developed mortals to survive. Their crude garments were torn, sandy and salt stained. Their hair was matted, and skin sun-browned.
“Where are your parents?” Genie had long ago turned on cosmic autocorrect. It transformed Genie’s intentions to language the attending mortal understood.
The mortal child shrugged.
Genie could see the mortal’s skeletal structure through their filthy garment. Genie’s attention sharpened.
“Why do you not wish for food?”
The mortal child shrugged.
“Are you hungry?”
The child thought about this longer than seemed necessary, then nodded.
“Then wish for food.”
“You don’t want to be my friend?”
Genie felt a cosmic tug, sharp as time and heavy as a century. Genie was walking a cosmic knife edge, discussing a wish after it was made, instead of fulfilling it. Genie was only able to do this since there was an age of accountability clause. A bunch of long-winded fluff, but it allowed some wiggle room.
Genie tried to explain this. What autocorrect supplied was,
“First we should see what your mommy says.”
This was a curious interpretation.
The girl cocked her head in thought, then shook it. “Mommy’s sleeping.” The statement held a certain finality to it.
“What about your daddy?” Genie was beginning to get a picture.
The girl shook her head. Cosmic autocorrect added that he was sleeping too, even though the crabs and gulls had taken his face, he was too sleepy to wake up. Genie shuddered and almost turned autocorrect off. The girl’s view of the world was vivid, but limited at the same time.
Genie manifested a water flask and something called “cheesy crackers”. If an undeveloped mortal was to make a contract, Genie would be remiss to allow such a thing under the influence of deprivation... or so Genie stayed on the edge.
The child took a nibble, then began trying to eat whole handfuls at a time. Cosmic autocorrect sent,
“Thank you, giving me food makes me feel loved. All I’ve had to eat was what washed up on the beach. I was too hungry, so I ate the gross things.”
Genie frowned at the mental image ‘gross things’ brought with it. Deciding that a stomach full of sand and rotting fish— and intestinal parasites— could be counted as impairing judgment, Genie removed them.
The girl paused mid-chew and looked down at herself with wide eyes, “mnt mommnt murt mammymrr!” Bits of cheesy cracker flew as she spoke. Autocorrect supplied,
“It doesn’t hurt anymore!”
The girl took a drink from the flask.
“Mmm! I like not salty water!” She looked up at Genie. “I’m Grace. What’s your name?”
Genie looked down at the little girl. Completing the formal exchange of titles would be an acceptance of the friend wish. Genie examined the rules of balance and laws of nature. What was a friend? If Genie answered…
Genie didn’t make the rules. The wish had to be fulfilled within the bounds that were spoken in the longest lasting way possible. If Genie answered, Genie would be formalizing an underage contract in which Genie would effectively become the cosmic equivalent of a legal guardian. Genie would be responsible for overseeing the mortal’s development and maturity to satisfactory levels before releasing the remaining wishes.
Genie watched Grace finish the crackers. She winced and tried to scratch at something under her matted head of hair. Genie focused on Grace’s head. Multiple types of creatures had made a nest in her hair and were living off her blood and skin. Genie banished them to where they would burn for a thousand lifetimes. Grace’s hair was still a mess.
Genie reached out to set the girl’s hair perfect with magic, but stopped short. The repercussions of this action were far reaching. It may teach the girl to expect magical solutions to problems. On a balance, combing out the hair would cause pain, but create a life-long memory that pain ended, and perseverance brought solutions to problems.
Mortal development was complicated.
Genie studied the girl. What would a mortal wish for if their development and maturity were truly balanced? Genie tried to look forward, but the future was too far away to be glimpsed.
Genie manifested a table with more food, a chair and a hairbrush. After a closer look at the mess that was Grace’s hair, several more tools followed. Grace made happy eating sounds as she helped herself. Genie spoke the cosmic title, formalizing the contract. Autocorrect supplied,
“Hello Grace, my Name is Chuck. I’ll be taking care of you now.” | 32 | You are a genie. Your current master has made such a unique and innocent wish that you're curious how it might backfire on its own. | 17 |
You are running for your life, they have finally found you. It had been years since you had to move locations and thus you had slipped up. You forgot to back track on your way home and they had picked up your scent. Having run out of ammo at your safe house you only have your backpack and a machete. You traveled the full length of the street, and the side roads are quickly filling up with them. You turn a corner and a hoard descends upon you, you squirm away and are surprised when around the buildings at the end of the street you see it. A Waffle House! The sign is alight, like a beacon of salvation. You quickly run in, and are greeted by the server. "Welcome to Waffle House, sit wherever you like."
Confused you reach for your bag to find it had been ripped open, your supplies had fallen out. Just clutching your machete you leave the bag behind, there's no point to it, now that it's ripped open wide. You look around at the others. They are enjoying a meal of breakfasts, and sandwiches. You stumble to a table. The stench of the outside air didn't penetrate the building, but rather the soothing aroma of a breakfast you hadn't experienced in years. The server comes to the table, "what are we thinking today?", she says in a cheerful voice. "Uhh", you mutter taken aback by her calm tone. You look over her shoulder to see the hoard outside walking past the door. They don't even look in the buildings direction. "Bacon?", you speak, more as a question than a statement. "Dear we have all you can eat". The server trots off in almost a skip.
'Bacon', you think to yourself, 'when was the last time...' You hear a scream and lookup to see another has entered the building. He looks around as you had. His words to the greeter are muffled, as the server arrives. "Here you go honey, fresh off the griddle". You quickly bite off a piece... it is better than you could imagine, the bacon flakes as you bite down, the juices intice your senses to follow. You savor every bite. Soon it's gone and all thought of anything else escapes you.
"Mam", you say to the passing server, "you said you have unlimited bacon?" "Oh Yes, dear, I'll bring you some more." The server is gone only for a moment before returning with a mound. You scarf it down and ask for another. It comes even faster. You finish that plate even faster. Your mouth waters even more. You grab a passing server, "I NEED ANOTHER, JUST KEEP BRINGING IT!", you didn't even realize you were yelling. The urgency of needing more starts to overwhelm you. You must have more...
You look down with hungry eyes, no sign of humanity left, as you tear flesh from bone. The taste of bacon sticking with you. Each bite savory, succulent, fresh bacon. The family your eating didn't even know you were there before you struck. | 284 | it's the zombie apocalypse. as your walking down the road your surprised to see a waffle house still open | 692 |
“It bit me?” Sa’thoth yelled at his decontamination chamber. No one answered him. No one was listening to the little lizard as he waddled in place. Grabbing his healing tail, Sa’thoth tried his best to think of anything he should have done.
When Captain Tein had brought their ship into orbit, the planet had acted like every sub-civilization in the galaxy did, inconsistently. Some sent gifts, one was very generous and sent a makeshift capsule of extremely rare 92-143 metal. Some sent needless recommendations that Captain Tein ignored. Some sent mating proposals that made everyone uncomfortable. Some were very rude. Then there was one we all paused at. It was hard to translate what they wanted but clarifying that we were to replace their government with a functioning one was seemingly well received. Hopefully, that was poorly translated back to them.
Sa’thoth left the decontamination chamber in a huff. He had been promoted recently in his efforts to better understand these creatures. The eating habits of these Apes had proved to be Captain Tein’s bane when it came to strategically making the species easier to deal with. All other things being equal, their world was a wonder of unstructured mismanagement.
“Wish this one had a tail I could rip off,” Sa’thoth seethed. Grabbing an auto-injector and a vial labelled, in case of exposure, Sa’thoth jabbed the thing into his thigh and let out a yip in pain. It took more than a couple of moments and a cup of warm bone broth to calm him down. The human watched him throughout it all.
That was fine. Let the thing rot for all Sa’thoth cared. He had his work to do. Maybe a dead human would make more sense than a living one. At least it wouldn’t bring him any pain. Not that anyone on this ship hadn’t in some way brought Sa’thoth some form of pain. Captain Tein, his second Telgor, Telgor’s Chief of Staff, and even Bo looked down on him. Not that it was their fault, Sa’thoth was quite small.
“I’ll be soft if-” Sa’thoth muttered to himself as he looked up from his monitor to find an empty room. Panicking, Sa’thoth switched on the intercom and asked, “Human! Appear!”
“Let me go!” an aggressive, middle-aged man yelled back at him.
“Go where?” Sa’thoth scoffed, he hated this argument, “You can’t leave the study until I know you are safe.”
“Home, you idiot!” the man yelled, “Let me go home! My kids-“
“We’ve been over this,” Sa’thoth argued, looking through the barrier for where the human could be, “Your spawn are fine on their own. You jeweling their shells won’t make them better spawn.”
“What does that mean?” the man exhaustedly asked back.
“Let them feed themselves,” Sa’thoth explained, now focused on the pile of lab equipment in the back, “You said it yourself they are almost of mature age.”
“My oldest is nine!” the man yelled, popping his head above the table Sa’thoth was staring at, grabbed a stabilizer off the top, and brought it down with him. Sa’thoth frowned at that. What was he doing? Turning up the volume of the intercom, Sa’thoth heard the man mutter to himself, “My wife is going to kill me.”
“Based on your spawn rearing ability,” Sa’thoth tried to appease, “Maybe, limiting contact with both them and your mate would be in everyone’s best interest.”
A utility pole with the stabilizer fastened to the top flew out from behind the man’s table, hit the barrier hard enough to disrupt and lodged there for longer than Sa’thoth would have liked. Pushing on his end, the pole collapsed backwards onto the floor with a clang.
“What was that?” Sa’thoth screamed into the mic.
“Attempt number two,” the man yelled back, pushing way past the compressor's capabilities and shaking the room that Sa’thoth was in. Covering his ear holes, Sa’thoth chided himself for not bringing the volume back down.
“Was biting me attempt number one?” Sa’thoth asked as he pushed the volume button down.
“I stabbed you,” the man explained, “If I bit you, I would have taken a piece of you with me.”
“Good to know,” Sa’thoth muttered to himself before asking, “Where did you find that stabbing instrument?”
“I MacGyvered one up,” the man answered, clearly doing something else behind the table.
Sa’thoth paused, frowning at the barrier in front of him and then turned to his workstation. That couldn’t have been translated right. Maybe something local that Sa’thoth had missed in his research. What would the son of Ivon have that this man possesses? Was his father Ivon?
“Please rephrase that,” Sa’thoth asked the man as carefully as he could. He needed to know that phrase and the system was still decoding the ridiculous network these creatures created.
“Since you asked nicely, come in here and I’ll explain it,” the man countered, “all safe like.”
“That seems counter to our previous interactions,” Sa’thoth argued.
“Human culture,” the man almost seemed pleased with himself at the phrase.
“You have to be truthful to your superiors,” Sa’thoth instructed.
A second utility pole, this time with what looked to be a disassembled restraining device flew through the barrier and crashed into the workstation behind Sa’thoth. The little lizard only had time to fall to the floor on base instinct rather than any reasonable reaction. Good thing too. Any reasonable lizard would have trusted the barrier.
“You are in no way my superior, you overgrown gecko,” the man yelled, “Let me go or next time I’m coming through with the pole and taking your ship.”
Sa’thoth peaked over the edge of his desk and into the lab before slamming the emergency button at the base of the barrier. A solid sheet of 22-26 metal came slamming down and locked in place. The man looked shocked in the last moments that Sa’thoth could see him.
“His spawn can’t feed themselves but this male has the mind to break through a barrier,” Sa’thoth muttered to himself.
Picking up the second utility pole with the restraint on the end, Sa’thoth took some notes on how the barrier reacted. He wasn’t an engineer but this seemed like something they would want to know. That or something that Sa’thoth could use for himself.
“No,” Sa’thoth muttered as he flipped on the remote viewing monitor and checked on where to human was, “Don’t pick up feral habits.”
To his horror, the human wasn’t hiding anymore. He was examining the locking mechanism that the researchers had brought him through. If the human could break through a barrier, he could probably figure out the door.
“Stop that!” Sa’thoth demanded.
“Ask nicely,” the man responded in what Sa’thoth uncomfortably felt was amusement.
“Please stop that?” Sa’thoth asked.
“Is that a question or a request?” the man asked back.
Sa’thoth stood stunned at the question. Was this man his superior? This was not going well.
—
This is a continuation of a story found here: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/xje4sm/comment/ip8if8h/?context=3 | 108 | Humans aren't Space Orcs, They are Space Goblins. Greedy and vicious little creatures with a primitive society that are surprisingly crafty and good at making stuff. | 350 |
An empty life, devoid of purpose and direction... I had nothing when I was alive, but eat, work, and sleep. Day in and day out, I fulfilled my purpose in this world. I was just another cog in the machine. I... didn't have anything to look forward to. I had nothing to look back on, except perhaps trauma that lead to my... state of mind. It may have seemed bleak to any onlookers, but to me, it was just the purpose I played. Like an ant in a colony, marching in a line. Barbra had a birthday coming up, and I had already contributed to the fund for her small office party. $50. I barely noticed it at the time, but I wonder if that's what did it. One morning, I woke up to go to work, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, only... I couldn't pick up the brush! As it turns out, I was a ghost now. a shadowy figure approached me from the corner of the bathroom, as if the shadow itsself had taken life. "Are you Roger?" it asked, cold and expressionless as a shadow could be.
"Y.. yes, but who might you be?" I asked, incredulously. First I realized I was a ghost, and now the shadows were talking to me.
"I... am death. I guide souls to the afterlife. I am nothing but a shadow that shows you the way. Now, what do you think, were you good in this life, or bad? because I don't want to make too many trips." I thought for a moment, and recalled that I had recently given money to Barb's birthday fund, though, other than that, I could not recall doing very much good in this world. A few bucks here, a few dollars there. Not enough to make a difference, just enough to stave off feeling bad for ending the month with more money than I need to survive.
"I... don't know? I think I was good, but I didn't do too much!" I looked towards the shadow which appeared to nod at my answer.
"Then off we go."
When we arrived at the pearly gates, an angel, or perhaps it was a saint was waiting by the entrance. I wasn't sure which, I was never very religious or spiritual. "Next in line" said the being.
"This is Roger. Tell me I didn't waste my time by bringing you another asshole who pretends to be good." Death seemed to roll a pair of unseen eyes at the fact that he had been tricked by people before.
"Hmm... let me see here... No. He's not on the list, which means no admission. Sorry bud, it seems like you're hell-bound. Bye bye now!" As the clouds opened up beneath us, death let out an audible sigh.
"You were supposed to be one of the good ones. Nothing on your file says anything about you being bad... But I guess anyone could do the right thing with the wrong intentions... Come on, we're going to hell."
When we arrived at the dark gates, a short, imp-like demon greeted us cordially, as if talking with an old friend "Death! So nice to see you on this fine day! How has the afterlife been for you!"
"Lets just get this over with, Traveling between heaven and hell really takes a toll on me" Death said in a very annoyed voice, as if death blamed me for this.
"Hey now, I think there's been a mistake... I don't think I was bad enough for hell, either."
"Sure, that's what they all say, and every time-" Death was cut off by the demon trying to get Death, and my attention.
"excuse me. Uuh death? Are you certain this one isn't heaven bound?"
"why do you ask" Death was... confused. They were kicked out of heaven, that was certain.
"Because he's not on the list. And if I let him in, you know big D is gunna be prettty upset with me!"
Death looked incredulously at the imp. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S NOT ON THE LIST???" He almost appeared to grow twice his normal size at the implication that this soul was bound for nowhere.
"I... uuh I mean death, with all due respect, he's not on my list. Here, you can even check it yourself." Death took the clipboard from the demon, almost knocking the poor creature down in the process. Death took one look at the clipboard, and threw it away in disgust.
"What the HELL am I supposed to do with you then, Roger? No offense intended, demon."
"W... well, if you have any positions open, I wouldn't mind working for you! It seems like steady work, and I know how to do my work pretty well!"
"Ugh, I've never met another soul that wasn't heaven or hell bound like yours. You've got yourself a deal, friend!" | 12 | by vote of hell I may not enter the rings of sin, by divine decree the pearly gates do not welcome me and so I wander | 51 |
Trish seemed like a nice enough girl, and I'm a nice enough guy, but neither of us were looking for "nice." Her profile said, "not looking for anything serious," and so that's what we were doing-- nothing serious.
We were doing "nothing serious" on my couch while Lara Croft Tombraider 2 played at a volume just too low to hear from the TV across the living room. The room was dark, save the small flashes of light and color as Lara went from green jungle to beige desert.
Neither of us were paying much attention to the movie.
"Wanna see something neat?" I whispered.
"Sure," she said. Then giggled, flailing an arm behind her back to her bra, which I'd just unhooked without moving a muscle.
"Oh my god!" she said. "Are you some kind of Sup?"
"Not really," I said and moved in for another kiss.
That's when Defender showed up.
Trish covered her eyes as a glare brighter than lit magnesium came suddenly from the balcony window outside my 12th story apartment.
"What the hell is that?" she grumbled.
I knew what it was.
"Unhand her!" Defender yelled, voice muffled by the glass.
"Hang on a sec," I mumbled. "Ya, hey," I said, opening the window.
"Unhand the maiden, *Villain*!" Defender said. God, what an asshole. First of all-- undercut, you know-- the type of haircut that makes people look like the pokemon Pidgeot? He had one of those, but then combined it with this flimsy blonde hipster mustache that he waxed and curled every day. He had his shields, obviously, both of them, each strapped to his left and right hand.
Oh, and he named his special move *"Shield Punch."* Spoiler alert-- it's when he punches people with the shield.
"It's consensual man, we're just trying to have a good time," I complained.
"Is this true?" Defender asked stiffly, turning up his nose and glancing at Trish.
She nodded. "Consensual. Thanks...though. Have a good night!"
Defender narrowed his eyes and sneered.
"Typical," he said, grinding his pearl-white and gold shields together, and clenching his teeth.
"What's typical?"
"A beautiful woman such as this," he said shaking his head, "Giving her maidenhood to a villian such as you."
"Okay buddy," I said, and moved to shut the window.
Defender loomed in, and wedged his shield in the windowframe.
"Leave," I said flatly.
"You may have this woman fooled, but not I!" he said. "She knows not the error of her ways! Preying upon women's urge to be with men who treat them poorly," he said, shaking his head. "Sickens me."
"I'm not sure that's exactly the sit--" Trish began, but Defender glared daggers at her, and she shut up.
"You're being weird man," I said. "Get out."
"You have not joined the League of Heroes," Defender accused. "Such actions speak for themselves. And powers of the mind...perhaps mind control," he mused.
"Telekesis," I clarified.
"Perhaps the villain lies," Defender said.
Behind him, Trish itched at her back. She shoved her arms in her t-shirt, lifted her shoulders, and took her bra off.
"Itchy," she said, winking at me.
Defender gasped.
"No more," he said. "No more will I stand this."
Then he plowed his shield into my nose.
I flew backwards, slamming through the thin wall that divided my apartment and into the kitched behind it. My back slammed into the microwave, corner digging painfully into my skin just inches to the left of my spine.
"Asshole!" I screamed, and flew at him.
He crouched down, gold and white shields raised near his shoulders, then spun at me, corkscrewing in the air and pointing the kite shield's triangular edge straight at me.
The world seemed to slow.
I honed in on the straps at his wrist, reinforced leather bound in a half a dozen careful places.
I can work the careful places. I can work them with my mind. Big and small, mechanism or simple construct. I have two hands, but I can work the fingers of the mind.
Four, five six, on the left arm.
Four, five, six on the right, and each of Defender's shields flew from his wrists, burrying themselves into the drywall of my apartment.
I lowered my skull.
This was gonna hurt.
I cracked into his head with my own.
I think he got the worst of it.
Defender howled, his hipster-waxed moustache bent and broken and covered with flowing blood from each nostil.
"How dare you!" he screamed through his clogged nose. Then he cursed.
I raised a hand.
Defender lifted into the air. I guided him over to the window.
"No," I said, "I will not join the League of Heroes. No, that doesn't make me a villain. Come by again, and I'll kick your ass."
"You're too dangerous," he groaned. "Miss,-- ma'am, young lady," he said to Trish. "You must resist your compulsion to be attracted to him purely for the way he mistreats you," Defender begged.
"Okay, that's enough," I said, and with a force of will, sent him hurtling away at 120mph, out towards the nightime city skyline.
He cried out, but the sound faded fast enough.
"Well," I said, knitting my broken nose back together with another small effort of will.
Trish smiled, and dangled the bra on one finger before flinging it away.
"Right," I said, and sat back down on the couch next to her. I put my arm around her.
"Out of curiosity," she said, "Why *don't* you join the League of Heroes?"
"Well," I said, "To join the self-proclaimed 'League of Heroes,' you've got to think pretty highly of yourself. Think you're pretty great."
"Pretty nice," Trish said nodding.
"Pretty nice," I agreed. "And they're almost all just as...*nice."*
"Got it," she said, and leaned in for a kiss.
She paused a few moments later.
"You wanna be a real hero?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, playing along.
"If another one shows up on our second date, can I be the one to break his nose?"
I laughed. "Second date, huh?"
She shrugged. "I like you."
"Even though I'm a villain?"
"*Especially* because you're a villain."
\------
Thanks for the fun prompt! Also-- this is absolutely what people would think, right? If you're not 100% on your PR a-game that you're a hero everyone would just be waiting for you to snap, right?! Fun stuff.
​
Brand new sub (brand new account for that matter) but if you liked what you read, I'd love to see you over at /r/ethanfeld_writes ! | 1,420 | If you have powers, you are probably going to be a Hero or Villain. You have some extremely powerful abilities, but you said you never wanted to be a Hero. Now everybody is convinced you want to be a Villain, and won't stop trying to "save you from evil" | 3,150 |
Landing on this newly acquired resource rich planet for the space federation, we were prepared for any hostile entities to take down while we procure samples of these rich resources. We were not prepared for a clean and manmade looking facility already on the planet.
We prepared the whole crew, even the scientists who weren’t combat experienced, for investigating this unexplained place.
When we entered the facility, we could tell it was some form of assembly line. To create what was too soon to say for sure. But the assembly line was not actively working.
“Hello!?” One of the scientists called out. “Anybody home!?” Another one hit the scientist in the shoulder. “Are you an idiot?” He whispered, “We don’t know what’s here or if they’re friendly or anything at all. This is an investigation!”
We all could hear clattering from above. As well as some whirring type sounds, changing in pitch, high and low with momentary pauses between as well.
We braced ourselves. “Don’t shoot unless shot at,” the director whispered to the squad. Above us was a balcony looking over this portion of the assembly line which both entered somewhere else and ended somewhere else in different rooms. This was only a middle section, and it was huge. Whatever they were making here is supremely complicated or crazy big.
The whirring stopped for a moment and we heard metal hitting other metal. It came from the balcony. Suddenly we hold all see 3 humanoid figures looking over the railing of the balcony, all looking at us, naked and unarmed it seemed, but they were shiny and made of metal. All three of them jumped down from the balcony like some kind of stuntman for an action movie.
“Hello!? Anybody home!?” The machine had copied the exact phrases it heard before, in Wilson’s voice no less. “That was my voice!” Wilson piped up. “That was my voice!” The machine repeated.
“It’s capable of language to an extent, but as much as talking to a parrot.”
The machine keeps repeating our words as we discuss the situation. Suddenly, Wilson had an epiphany. “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” he spoke to the machine man. “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” the machine man repeated.
The machine man’s eyes turned into a bright blue as a light from behind seemed to be doing something within.
“Initializing complete” a woman’s robot voice could be heard from within the machine man’s head, “language analyzed.” Several seconds of silence came and went as we stared at this machine man starting to almost seem human and come to life. He was rubbing his chin with a finger as if he was thinking really hard. Suddenly human behavior, the scientists were baffled and excited, the gunmen were scared and weary.
“Greetings!” The machine man finally seemed to have found what he was searching for. “Welcome to our facility. I have been designated A-G-P 01. These are A-G-P 02 and 03.” He introduced. “May I ask why are you here and where did you come from?”
The director took initiative before a scientist blew a fuze with excitement and said something stupid. “We are humans as our species refers to itself, and we are part of the Human Space Federation. We recently have purchased the rights to this supposedly uninhabited planet meaning anything found on the planet is supposed to be considered ours to use. Technically this would include what or who you are, however I imagine you along with several others of our own species would not accept things that way.”
“Interesting,” 01 said, putting a finger to his chin once again to think. “We are sentient beings with our own sense of self as you are, however, we are not the same as you. This facility is intended to use a very stable resource we call Admishium to create more of us. We have about 500 of us in total and are gathering more and more admishium to make more of us. We keep the facility updated and ready to use as it takes a long time to acquire enough of the rare metal to form another. We have existed here for 2678921 cycles and have never encountered any others like you before. We considered the possibility of others similar to us existing but you are the first encountered. We would of course like to be friends in this new discovery as it would not benefit either of us to make your people an enemy. So if we can discuss matters pertaining to each other’s arrangements and learn from one another, I think this would be the most satisfactory route laid ahead.” 01 explained to the squadron in detail.
“We are not at liberty to make those decisions for our people at this moment, but the message can be sent back to our people for them to discuss and reach a decision in our place.” The director explained back.
“Wonderful, is there anything we can do to help you? We would like to study your habits and equipment to get a better idea of what it is you have accomplished for your species.” 01 asked politely.
“We can’t make any promises for extended plans, however, if you can provide us with a small portion of admishium to start with for us to study and test with, we will allow you to study our habits and look at the equipment we have here with us while we monitor your use of anything here, and we can learn more about one another as we talk.” The director decided with the scientist’s desires in mind.
“That would be a satisfactory beginning of the relationship, it is agreeable.” 01 put out his hand to shake the hand of the director’s.
The new metal admishium was provided by 01 and 01-03 were all allowed to stay with the squadron as we went about what we dimecided to do. The director made a call to the space federation headquarters to discuss further plans and options along with 01 at his side. The scientists were allowed to play with admishium to get a better idea of its properties. The rest of the squadron was sent outside to take a look at the other potentially useful resources available from the planet. Animals, plants, minerals, materials, anything they could find useful. They also were allowed to see one of the machine men in combat as they were ambushed by a pack of hostile animals.
“It was wild, director, the machine man had noticed the pack animals before we even had time to react. He was agile and fit for combat at a fraction of a second’s notice. He had plasma swords that came from his hands, he could fire some form of ammunition out from his body, these guys are literal weapons of mass destruction all wrapped up in one body. As one of them told us it was excess materials that are stored in their body and created into other things as they needed it. Their body made a rocket in a split second because they thought it was necessary.” The right hand man of the director reported in detail, along with much more that happened during the expedition. | 42 | You are doing a checkup on an unpopulated resource rich planet with hostile fauna, but instead of finding some animals roaming the surface, you find it covered with clouds. Upon closer inspection, you detect a vast autonomous factory mining resources and assembling strange products | 148 |
He was standing in the living room when I got back from the latest semi-successful heist. The Blur, a local speedster trying to make a name for himself as a Hero despite some power level inconsistencies and... questionable public behavior choices.
"How did you get in here?" A *stunning* opening line. Well done, me.
"I've been following you back to this building, Doctor Quick. This is the only apartment that could be yours - the other three tenants are a cripple, six Mexicans packed in one bedroom like it's a work truck, and some pink-undercut SJW les-hippo."
I hate that name, for the record. I hate *this* asshole more. But at least I have the courtesy to hate him for his behavior, not his origin. "I... lost count. How many -isms was that?"
"What? I don't... look, it doesn't matter - "
"If you've been bothering my neighbors, it matters to me."
"You're not *listening*, Quick. I came here to make a *trade*, not to support some stupid *agenda*."
"If you *must* shorten that stupid name, it's Doctor. Not Quick. *Never* Quick. And what do you mean, trade?"
"Look. You're just in it for the money. You don't fight, you don't break stuff, and you drop and run at the first sign of trouble. Right?"
"I'm *fast*. That's my power. Speed. Not strong, not bulletproof, just fast. Of *course* I run away."
"Right, so. I've got an offer a coward like you can't refuse. The League *finally* sent me an invitation, but it's bush-league shit. Disaster rescue, hostage extraction, probably delivering pizzas. Shit no one needs a *hero* for."
"Of course. Rescuing disaster and villain victims is *obviously* no business for a man of your caliber."
"I *know*. But the League says it'll be a minimum eight-year term with Rescue before they'll even let me *near* a real fight. And that's where you come in."
Great. So it looks like he's here to find some way to make me owe him something. "You have thirty seconds left, Blur."
"Rescue *pays*, man. Mid-six figures a year to proven supers. Double and a half for hazard pay, which is like... the whole job. And all the League benefits, you know. Free room at the Station, access to the healer supers and stuff. All of it. Perfect for a super-shoplifter who runs away from every fight he can find, am I right?"
"This seems like the kind of luxury a man like you *wants*. I still don't understand my involvement."
"I've already *got* money and stuff, man. Family made a *fortune* in pharma, *and* that's where I got my powers. Experimental drugs, you know?"
"I assume they were neither therapeutic nor palliative."
"Uh... no, man. It's this crazy brain-booster. Like acid, but instead of seeing the walls crawl, you see places around you. That's how it works - I can see all around me, and then just pick a place and, like... snap to there."
"So you're a teleporter, not a speedster? And is it permanent, or do you need the drug?"
"I get the whole Doctor thing now, all these questions. Yeah, I need the drug, but the lab guys who make it all know exactly what Dad'll do to them if it gets out, so it's no big to me. And yeah, it's kind of teleporting, except it always takes about a second. No matter how far I go, always one second. And if I'm not going very far, you can see me moving, so, you know. The Blur."
"So... wait. You have money and power. You're being courted by the League. Why are you here? I'm... no threat. Not even on the League's radar."
"A *trade*, man. Fuck, for a guy who asks so many questions, you don't listen for shit. Alright, look. Exhibit A, Doc Coward - that's you - gets the Blur name and costume, the League Rescue job, the boring socialist lifestyle, whatever. Exhibit B, me, gets the Doctor Quick name and costume, and the rep you're building as a mercenary speedster."
"A mercenary - you... you just want to hurt people? Is that it?"
"I want to *fight*, man. I'm not going to the *UFC Gym* every day to lift rocks off of brown kids or whatever. You're an *actual* speedster... kinda. If you had the balls you'd be a real threat, man. And I got those, big time. I can make Doctor Quick a name to be *feared*. And the best part is that if you stay in Rescue, *you'll* never have to fight *me*." Cracking his knuckles like that isn't good for the joints, arthritis or not. "Assuming you say yes right now, anyway."
"So... you're going to beat me up if I don't give you my clothes. How very... high-school. No, stop. I remember high school *very well*. You have a deal, under two conditions."
"Seriously? All I'm offering here and you have conditions?"
"They're easy. First condition, we do this trade right now. Put all of the Blur stuff on the couch right there and let me check it to make sure you're on the up-and-up. You can keep your costume on - my coats and all will fit you, but that spandex and mask on me... just no. I'll deal."
"Easy enough. Second condition?"
"If your plan is to fight, instead of just steal... I want you to publicly drop 'Doctor' from the name. Keep 'Quick' to establish continuity. It should be easy enough - when you start hitting people, tell them you've given up your oath and chosen violence. Call yourself, I don't know, Quick Hands or something. Just not Doctor. It would confuse people anyway."
"You were right, those *are* easy. I never really liked the Doctor part anyway. If I wanted to be called that, I'd just have Dad donate a building to Harvard or something. Here's the Blur stuff - mostly the ice, it's all custom and you'll look wrong without it."
"Ice? Oh. Jewelry. Right. Just make sure the League invite is there."
There it is, a genuine League communicator - one of the most precious items in the world - and he just drops it onto that pile of gaudy jewelry as though it were a cheap cell phone. "Right here. Where's your shit?"
"Black box in the back of the closet there. It's heavier than it looks, but that's... probably not a problem for you. There's no traps or weapons in it, and the lock code is 1701."
"No weapons. Yeah, I figured, Doc Coward. Lemme just check, though." While he's walking over to the closet, I nod at the League communicator. It obediently slips down between the couch cushions, jewelry rearranging to cover the movement. "You sure these coats will fit?"
"They're bigger than they look. You'll probably want something more... streamlined if you intend to do actual combat, though. Maybe wear some of that spandex under one of my coats, and tear it off when you change your name?"
"Hey, man, that sounds pretty good. A video like that would definitely get me featured on the New Villain Roundup. You're wasting talent here." He steps out, carrying my foot locker and wearing a one-size-too-small white lab coat over his ludicrous blue and red spandex. "That ain't your problem any more, though. Nice doing business with you, *Blur*." Just before leaving the apartment, he turns and looks back at me. "Oh. One condition from me, I forgot."
"*Now* you have a condition?"
"It's easy, Doc Coward." His eyes narrow, head tilting forward menacingly. "You ever get near me again, I'll kill you." The dead eyes above his sudden, cold grin are more intimidating than the scowl. "Bye."
~~~
I stopped the recording, leaving that grin up on the screen. "I was worried it was some kind of trick, so I waited for him to establish this new Quick... *One-Hitter* persona." He had somehow found a way to make me hate the name even more. At least I don't have to *wear* it. "I regret the harm my inaction allowed him to cause. If there are any reparations - "
(continued) | 24 | A low-tier superhero and a unsuccessful supervillain are fed up with their low standing in their communities, so they decide to swap places. It turns out that both are way better at each others jobs. | 128 |
I woke up at 7:30 as usual. Nothing seemed strange at first, but by 8:00 AM, I began to notice some oddities. Everything seemed a little bit brighter than usual. The sun was yellower, and the trees were just a little bit greener.
I shrugged it off at first, but the world became more bright and more colorful as the day went on. By the time I checked Twitter during my lunch break, everyone online talking about it. I couldn't think of any reason this could be happening so I tried to ignore it.
By the time I left work, the world was so vibrant that I could hardly keep my eyes open. I happened to see myself reflected in my car mirror and I noticed I had become completely orange.
I wasn't the only one who couldn't stand this color. Anyone who could began to destroy the trees and plants around them. Though I understood why they did it, I knew the consequences of this would be dire.
It has been 5 years since then, and the world is bleak. Anything colorful has been replaced with something colorless. I missed the old world before this industrial hellscape. I missed the times when I could go outside and see life instead of factories, and clouds instead of smog. Even if it isn't much, I spend all the time I can spare trying to restore color to this world. I plant trees in places no one will find them and cut them down.
I am the Lorax, and I speak for the trees. | 16 | You are going to work one morning; when all of a sudden you feel a wierd sensation. You notice the would is slowly changing to the last book you read. The changes were subtle at first and no one seemed to noticed, but then the changes became more obvious and coming much faster. | 39 |
It was lovely. I couldn't describe it to you in justice; an insatiable hunger meets an infinite buffet. I burned through humanity, unconstrained, unstoppable, somehow unnoticed. Well. They noticed alright -- I was that unsettled feeling at the the pit of a gut, that sense that all things were not right, regardless of what the preachers and professors and poets said, that dark notion that a man stuffs far down into the corners of his workweek, crouched and hidden as she slowly builds his investment funds, as he plans to travel the world, to watch his children graduate and live and love and give him grandkids -- plans I will rob him of with cancer, with a walkout wife, or perhaps just the mundane collapse of the entire society around him. But somehow they never found me out, never resolved the source of their misery and discontent. Close doesn't count.
It was a simple stumble of words. I was stupid, I was excited, my fate and the course of time somehow snapped into a final determination with one idiotic... no. One mistaken word. The genie had looked at me with surprise, his eyebrow cocked and a disturbing smile creeping across his misty face. To wish for immortality is normal -- to wish for \*immorality\* is a hilarious mistake, one that nobody had made for him before, one that one only makes if they are deeply drunk or foolish. I was no fool.
"Immorality? That's what you wish for?"
I stared at the two genies before more, blinking them back into one. Immorality?
"Wait! No,"
"Immorality it is," he said. Shit.
Oh, I tried to fix it. Immortality was my second wish, of course. My third... well. I won't get into that. It's not important.
The immortality was, at first, a wonderful novelty. Compound interest is an incredible thing. A man free from the fear of the pale reaper is a man who will attempt anything -- and a man who attempts anything and never dies is, to quote a Marine I murdered many eons later, fucking inspirational. I was a king, I was an adventurer, I was a great scientist. A lover, a poet, a warrior. Legends were written about me, great works of literature, myths handed down from generation to generation, until the generations ended.
But the immorality? That \*never\* grew old. There are more depravities in this universe than a man could ever dream, and my wish let me understand the true, base beauty of going against the established order of all things. The ecstasy of a village overrun by barbarians, the population put to the sword. The wonder of watching a man realize the sum of his entire life's work just disappeared with the confidence man he handed it to. The subtle beauty of a man stepping on a shard of pottery, a horsehoe nail, a lego in the deep of the night while stumbling around for a piss. For all this I was grateful to the genie -- the world was only rich in color if you fully appreciated immorality. It was my only good wish.
Immortality was a curse. Immorality has real meaning only in the context of others -- and others aren't immortal. I was careful. Careful to never kill them all, even when I would get excited and visit cataclysms on them -- the volcanoes, the genocides, the singularity wars. But with or without me, mankind had an expiration date. The easy energy ran out, the sky grew white hot and oppressive, the people dwindled and grew feeble, and the world ceded itself back to the beasts. One can be immoral to beasts, but it is unfulfilling -- beasts understand the world for what it is, they accept the pain and don't rebel against it, they expect the grind of misery and don't despair in it. Animals have no hope, and immorality burns brightest when it burns against the barren blackness that is hope. For me, it was like switching from steak and seafood to a diet of watery grains and old vegetables.
Eons. Eons and eons and eons. Lonely, tired, unfulfilled. Eventually, even the beasts disappeared, surrendering to the foliage, and even that shriveled and died as the sky grew hot, burned up the earth, melted the mountains, boiled away the seas. And then snapped cold, the whole of creation seeming to freeze in place, like a broken motion picture, the film stuck in the projector, melting into white.
Listen. I can't. I won't try -- you will not understand what a hundred thousand years means. What a million years means, a million million, a billion million, a billion billion, trillions upon trillions. When people existed, they predicted this, the death of the universe. The genie, long gone, that shifty smoky fucker, had to know this would happen. Knowing the drunk fool in front of him would go mad for an unfathomable depth of untold history, praying for it to end, to begin again.
But now. If now can really mean anything anymore -- now I'm near it. I can feel it. The last of the protons are out there, a pair separated by billions and billions of lightyears. Soon, one of them will decay, thrash itself into an angry beam of meaningless energy -- and then there will be only one. That proton will have no reference point. Spacetime will have no meaning; it will be a small fleck of mass in a universe that no longer has any size at all. It will blossom, it will grow, that delicate flower of creation, and I will wait.
I will wait for the furious inferno to cool, for the great gyres to coalesce, for the plates of being to spin themselves into the brilliance of stars, for those stars to tear themselves to pieces, flinging seeds into the nothing. For those seeds to be clouds, for those clouds to be planets, to be creatures, to be people.
And eventually.
A genie.
I will be ready.
The gift he gave me -- I will show it to him.
Just what wondrous things it can do. | 19 | You were granted immorality, and you have lived for billions of years. You are now witnessing the death of the universe and the birth of another. | 54 |
“One serving of the finest ambrosia is up for grabs”
Hades paced around carrying a golden chalice filled with the finest food of the gods
“ all you have to do is beat the challenge , survive 10 days as mortals , no power , no nothing. If they figure out your a god you lose too so no life defying feat that you can just brush off “ hades glared at Hercules as he mentioned the last part
“ and what if we lose?” Hera asked from the back
“ well, then you don’t get any of the ambrosia and maybe…. Lose some of the power from your followers”
The gods all looked concerned , but ambrosia was legendary even amongst the gods , said to unlock powers hidden to even them
“ I will take this challenge “ Zeus , the first to speak
Soon after all the gods slowly agreed.
The first day was chaos , Hermes was caught out as a god for running a race faster then anyone before him. Zeus tried to bed the wife of the emperor and was swiftly jailed and set to be executed. Hera was also quite arrogant and wouldn’t accept just being a normal person and wound up insulting some guards.
Dionysus was jailed by the 3rd day for excessively drunken partying but was let out on good behaviour (and a large sum of wine to the guards ). Aphrodite lasted until the 5th day when a general took an interest in her , she scorned his advances and was set to be stoned for insolence
Ares kept poking holes in the strategy a local general was using , he was promptly sent to a sanitarium as they thought he was crazy for his obsession with war. Hercules tried to be a hero and stop a building that was collapsing and was crushed.
After the 10 days the gods returned , most hanging their heads in shame as they lost , only hades , Poseidon and Hephaestus survived.
Zeus angered , questioned the gods how they managed.
Hades responded “ I lived a simple life , me and Persephone just watched the mortals toil and bide our time, I challenged a mortal to a game to win food and board for the time “
Hera then questioned Hephaestus
“ well , I just found a black smithing shop and made some swords and armor , nothing fancy like up here but I got some coin for food drink and a bed “
Lastly ares asked Poseidon what he had done
“ well I just went fishing , ate what I caught and slept on a boat I rented “ | 164 | The Gods of Olympus has decided to pretend to be mortals for ten days with the only two rules being that they can't use most of their power and has to hide the fact they are gods to everyone. How do they do? | 392 |
I heard the old grandfather clock in the hallway chime at midnight. I rolled over under my weighted blanket, my night meds just beginning to kick in and I saw the flash of something I had not seen in over a decade. *Fairy wings.*
I calmly closed my eyes, reflecting on what Dr. Cloudfield and I spent all those years working on. I whispered to myself "fairies aren't real," and took three deep breaths. It has been years since I'd had a delusion, but I still knew how to handle them.
But as I attempted to fall asleep, I heard more than just the ticking clock in the distance. Without even opening my eyes, I once again told myself "fairies aren't real." It was just my mind playing tricks on me.
Moments later I felt the outer rim of my left ear being pinched. *That was real.* I brought my hand up to swat the pest from my ear and my fingers brushed against the papery wings of... A fairy. I felt dizzy and nauseous instantly, memories of my first few days in the psychiatric ward immediately coming to the surface. Wait... *was* that real?
In a panic, I tapped the light on my bedside to illuminate the room. Sure enough, her wings a little battered, a fairy lay sprawled out on my comforter where I had flicked her off my ear. I felt myself begin to disassociate, my mind unable to believe what I was seeing.
"No don't go!" the fairy said, sitting up a bit. "We need your help!"
The years of Dr. Cloudfield's work evaporating between us, I somehow stayed present enough to answer her, "I can't..."
"No, please, Ginny," the fairy implored me. "You saved us once, we know you can do it again. You're our hero, still, after all these years."
"I... have to go," I stammered, my body shifting into a frozen state of panic.
"Ginny," the fairy said again, making me flinch, "Please."
"You... you aren't real," I stammered. "I knew you were real and they all told me I was crazy..." I couldn't breathe properly. "They put me in therapy and stuffed me full of meds and took away my privacy and consent... Because I wouldn't let go of my belief that you were real. They said you were a delusion."
"I know," the fairy replied sadly.
"You could have helped me!" I sobbed.
"We... couldn't."
"Then why should I help you now?"
The fairy was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She finally said, "Ginny if you come help us, this time we will let you stay. You don't have to come back to this world if you don't want to."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied.
"Is... uh..." I stammered awkwardly, allowing myself to reopen a door I thought was closed forever. "Is Collette still... uh... still..."
"Yes, she still lives in the home you built her," the fairy laughed. "She's excited to see you again."
"Really?" my eyes went wide.
Being told *she* was a delusion broke me more than anything else. To think she was really real and still loved me after all these years was...
"Let's go," I whispered eagerly, jumping out of bed and stripping all of my clothes off. "I'm ready."
The messenger fairy who came to get me flew up off my bed and touched my cheek with her little hand and we were instantly transported back to the Everwood where I was to become their champion once more. | 137 | As a teen, you were drawn into another fantasy realm and saved their world as a hero. Upon returning, you spend years in psychiatric care for your "delusions". Now an adult with a normal life, the other world has come calling for their champion once more. | 482 |
A large, blue, eight-fingered fist slammed down onto the table with a resounding *THUNK*, and the room fell silent. "You do not understand!" thundered its wielder, with a voice as powerful and unforgiving as the floods ravaging Yagana a thousand leagues below. "They have it. They know the incantation. Every word, every syllable, every breath. The Earth-dwellers have it, and their warlocks recite it, together, in unison, almost daily now. Their spell circles are small now, yes, but they are growing rapidly and incessantly. We must stop them soon, or the waters will not recede. We must stop them, or our children, our families, our cities, our civilization, our history will die."
For a long moment, no one dared challenge the large Kargan. All knew that Odan, the proud, fierce warrior that he was, would not back down without a fight.
A wispy Yannock, gray from age, raised her voice near the back of the room. "Odan, my dear friend, forgive me. But this simply cannot be. No one, not even the wisest of the Wise Ones upon Deilan, knows the entirety of The Words To End All Words. They have been lost to time. How, tell me, could a backwards, upstart people such as the humans have come to know them? It is impossible. Besides, our linguists have reported that The Words themselves mean nothing in each of their Earth-languages. The likelihood that they would have stumbled upon them by accident is... negligible. I predict that --"
The Yannock had seen much in her thousand trips around the cold, blue sun. But she had never before seen Odan tremble. The sight was enough to shock her into silence.
"Yuntana. You have wisdom beyond wisdom, even I know. I would follow you into the Depths themselves, if you deemed it wise. But you have not seen what I have seen. Raygin, the hologram." A tall female seated beside the warrior nodded solemnly and placed a holo-gen upon the table. From it bloomed a grainy depiction of a small pack of human sorcerers, huddled together and gyrating in rhythm with one another, their gravelly voices rising and falling together in chant. Those of the Council with weaker constitutions shrank back in fear, but Yuntana had seen worse.
"This is... troubling, Odan, without question. They have found one of The Words of Power, and they are invoking it far, far too often. But they still have yet to --"
"Wait. Just wait. A little longer, and you'll see. Here, it's happeni --" the door to the room flew open and a slim, breathless Kargan was blown inside. A pair of guards shoved mightily against the door, but the gale outside rendered useless their efforts to close it. The rain did not merely fall, it flowed. It flowed into their tower as a united front, a wave.
A rush of councilors reached the door and managed, with a heroic effort, to force it shut. Yuntana struggled to her feet and saw that the holo-gen had been swept away.
"Great Council, forgive my intrustion, it could not wait," the courier heaved. "It... it is happening. The Depths have mercy upon us all."
"What are you saying, friend?" Odan asked in a hushed voice.
Wordless, the courier raised a holo-gen. They saw, and they heard, and they knew at once that these would be their last moments.
Yuntana fell to her knees, defeated, as she watched with horror: hundreds, thousands of Earth-warlocks chanted, in unison, the entirety of that forbidden scroll. The Words which had been lost even to the scholars of Deilan: repeated again, and again, and again. "It is... impossible," she whispered. But nobody heard her voice over The Words To End All Words:
"I'M BLUE DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI I'M BLUE DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI I'M BLUE DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI DA BA DEE DA BA DAI-" | 13 | What humans would call magic is a thing that the galactic community uses along with tech, it’s just that it’s highly regulated since the power of a spell is multiplied by the number of casters. Now panic rises since some popular human music has the universe’s strongest spells in its lyrics. | 17 |
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, suddenly petrified to see the most gorgeous demon kneeling at my feet.
"It is good to finally meet you, Master," the demon repeated, curling his lips into the sweetest smile. He bowed his horned head slightly to greet me.
"Did you... uh... know my dad?" I stammered, unsure how to receive the demon.
"I don't recall any of my previous Masters," the demon said plainly. "I belong to you now."
"What, uh, can you do?" I asked awkwardly. I didn't know what to say next.
"Well," the demon said grinning, "do you have any enemies? Anyone you want revenge on?"
"No," I replied, "nothing like that."
"What about desires for fame, fortune, or both?" the demon offered.
"I don't know..." I hummed. "I don't think you can help me with what I want."
"What do you want, Master?"
I fidgeted nervously in the presence of the demon, the ring that summoned him still clutched in my hand.
"Put the ring on," the demon said gently, touching my hand with his long fingers. His skin was cold. "You can tell me later what you want."
I blushed as he touched me, my face welling up with heat. The demon chuckled. I slipped the ring onto my fourth finger and the demon disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. | 12 | You visit your parents' house that was destroyed in a fire a long time ago. While going through your father's old office, you find a box with a ring inside. As soon as you touch it, a demon appears and kneels before you. "It is good to finally meet you, Master." | 50 |
“I know I broke a law, but I plead not guilty because that law is stupid.”
The judge just looked down at his desk and curled up his eyebrows in exhaustion. Almost as if he had dealt with many cases like this before.
“Sir,” he said tiredly, “for the last time. Breaking into an ice cream truck is a felony.”
“Oh come on!” I cried, “3 dollars for a spongebob ice pop is too much! They’re clearly scamming us.”
The judge looked at me. “Okay, fair. But did you have to break into 15 of them?”
He clearly was not going to let this slide. Darn it, I would have gotten away with it if I had just made it 14. I had to come up with another excuse. After all, I needed to get home. I had 32 boxes of fudge pops that were surely going to melt if I didn’t make it home in the next hour.
“Think about the children!” I cried, “they can’t afford to eat a drumstick without running their parents dry!”
“The children can’t afford to eat a drumstick because you stole them all!” The judge shouted angrily.
Darn. I thought playing with the judge’s feelings would have surely worked in my favor. That’s a shame, however most of the children I had mentioned are dead anyway. I had to kill them to make sure that they didn’t notice me stealing the ice cream. You know, I wonder why I didn’t get caught for those murders.
The judge noticed me thinking to myself. “Well, do you have anything else you want to say?”
“I’m bored. Can I go home now?” | 87 | "I know I broke a law, but I plead not guilty because that law is stupid." | 124 |
"So, you thought you'd follow your own little plan and disregard my orders, did you?"
Eyes downcast, his minion said "Yes, m'lord."
His other lackeys in the room looked around at each other nervously.
"Good. Shows initiative. In the field, you must be willing to adapt to circumstances. You saw an opportunity to ambush the boy and you took it. Well done. Here in my domain, we reward that sort of thing."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bag that jingled as he tossed it to Dorf.
Dorf looked surprised and relieved as Lord Aceron addressed the room. "3 months wages as a bonus to this man. I know you are all new here, but it's important that you all understand that I run things a little differently than most evil overlords. As long as you do not betray me, you have nothing to fear. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a chosen one to dispose of. Oh, and Dorf - you may consider yourself promoted. Strategy meeting tomorrow at 9:00 sharp in my counsel chambers."
It had been a difficult year for Lord Aceron. Several months ago all of his henchmen had been wiped out and he himself almost killed when some heroes convinced a number of them to desert. He had used more traditional methods of instilling control and loyalty before, but he was first and foremost a practical man. If an approach didn't work, it ought to simply be discarded and another selected. He had decided to do things differently this time. The initial results were promising.
It was time for the weekly mission reports. Dorf handled most of these lately, but any reports he deemed sufficiently significant were sent on to Lord Aceron.
"Yes, henchperson Nari. Report."
She swallowed. "Well, m'lord ..." She rattled out her report and then stood still, with her fists balled and her teeth gritted.
"Let me see if understand the situation correctly. Unanticipated magical security cause you and your team to be caught, and rather than sacrificing your people to get the gems, you decided to instead retreat, returning with all henchmen alive?"
"Uh, yes, m'lord."
"You made the correct decision; there are many such treasures ripe for the taking out in the world, and my servants are much too valuable to be squandered over one of them. Please ensure that any wounded are treated properly and report to the Learned Ones at your earliest convenience to discuss the magical security you encountered. We need to develop a countermeasure. You may go."
"Thank you m'lord!" Nari straightened and walked out of the room much more buoyantly than she entered.
Later that week, Lord Aceron was inspecting the construction of a new wing of his palace. His lackeys swarmed around, busy as bees, but something caught his eye.
He met the foreman's eyes and raised his voice to be heard over the din. "Foreman, come here please."
The foreman hurried over immediately and said "Foreman Scuttle reporting, m'lord."
"Scuttle, do you see that scaffolding?"
"Yes, m'lord."
"It is in a shamefully flimsy state and looks like it could collapse at any moment. Have it rebuilt immediately, and see that it is properly sturdy."
"Well, right away m'lord, but that will slow construction considerably."
"And? Let it be slowed. If the scaffolding collapses, that will lead to injury at a minimum. It is important to me that my henchmen's safety not be risked in pursuit of speed."
"Yes, m'lord. I understand."
"Excellent."
Over the next several months, Lord Aceron's lackeys grew to understand that he did not dole out arbitrary punishments, but instead that he rewarded competence and initiative, valued their well-being, and paid well to boot. But he had yet to understand to what extent this affected their loyalty. 1/2 | 525 | Instead of killing your minions for petty reasons you use positive reinforcement to improve their skills and pay them the amount they deserve. What was just a simple act in your eyes has led to you having an army of the most zealous and loyal henchmen. | 1,664 |
“If I get my hands on you, vampire!” The young man below craned his neck upwards, aiming a shaking crossbow. “I’ll see your plague against my family end."
“If,” The Shadow called down from the high unseen, dropping a handful of spiders, one landing on the boy’s forehead.
The boy spasmed and swatted at his face. In his fear, the Shadow could see he couldn’t be more than fourteen winters, the youngest yet. He prepared to fall as fluttering feral death atop the lad but paused.
“Why do they always send you so young?” The Shadow queried. “I kill you, each and every one of your hunters, each and every time you come for me unprepared.”
“My family knows the way of vampires. We have killed them for scores of generations. You are Prima Hostis, the first foe of our clan. It is an honor to be sent to take you down.” The boy scurried left, clearly untrained in the way a vampire may throw his voice.
Again, the Shadow saw a chance to strike. Every predator bone in his body ached to lunge, to flay the neck from front to nape, but he remained still, held white-knuckled to the stones. “Would it not be better, oh, honored lamb of thy noble house to fight me defensively, learn of me and my tricks? You could return to teach others, come for me in pairs.”
“The youth blood holds power over the Prima Hostis,” the boy shouted, now stabbing to stake a dusty clay pot along the northern wall. “Fighting in pairs is useless as the Prima Hostis is known to call brother against brother, twisting their minds to bickering before striking.”
“Who told you this?” The Shadow asked, releasing to let himself fall weightless to his feet behind the boy. “I have no weakness to children, nor do I have mind magic that is stronger against many.”
The boy stumbled back. He patted himself, disgracefully unmemorized of his own gear. The Shadow kicked the moment the boy lifted the vial. It dashed onto the mossy floor.
“The founder of our house left it to us, the sacred scroll detailing all the sins of you.” The boy tried for the crossbow next. The Shadow tapped a nail against the string, snapping it free to whip the boy along the face. The muted sting of empathy hit him.
The Shadow took out his handkerchief and carefully grabbed at the silver medallion around the boy’s neck, feeling as too hot tea rather than scalding iron. “The Sins of the Father Shall be Visited upon the Son. Strange guild words.” He opened the locket, unbelieving what he was seeing.
“This is him, your founder?” The Shadow hissed.
“Yes, the great Anton Levanture,” the boy said. “I will tell you none of his secrets! Torture me, kill me, it matters not.”
“He was far from a great man, a fool in fact,” The Shadow said. “Let me tell you the story of Anton Levanture, then I will decide your fate.”
The boy rose and charged, roaring as he gripped the stake. The Shadow waited until the last moment to grab the wrist that would see his undead flesh unravel. Inches apart he looked the boy over, the eyes, the nose. It was so. The old man had won. For all these centuries, he had won, laughing from the grave of another man.
“Anton was a heartstruck fool after his own wife died, wandering the streets at night rather than seeing to his own infant sons he foolishly blamed, leaving them to the servants. He came upon a single mote of light in the dark city park, a maiden playing chess by candlelight. A curious hobby for a girl, at least for the time. She was not of the standard beauty but one all her own, shrewd planning eyes that never softened.”
“I care not for your pretty lies, animal!” The boy thrashed and the Shadow tightened, feeling along the nerves of the arm. The boy fell limp, helpless as a kitten held by the scruff.
“Anton came night and night again, watching her. He did not hide, nor did she seem bothered by his watching. She defeated each opponent, all of whom underestimated her, even those she’d beaten before, even beaten by the score. By watching her, Anton learned the game. Steeling his courage one night, he approached and asked her to play.”
The boy stared slack-jawed, listening but the eyes showed his fight was very much alive in him. This would be a fearsome foe some day if he was truly trained.
“Anton said to her, 'If I beat you, then I would ask your hand in marriage.' She rolled her eyes and laughed at the man but gestured for him to sit and play.”
“-id ‘e ‘eat er?” the boy asked, forcing through the paralysis.
“No, she beat him, but each night after the other challengers had their chance, they would play the final game and she would beat him each time until the full moon of their twentieth game. He was good at this point, but nowhere near her skill. He saw her queen dance along the board in hesitation, something she never did. With a smile, she left it within reach of my king, undefended. ’Check,’ she said then, with all the roses in the world beneath that voice.” Wells long dry worked in the Shadow's eyes.
“Your ‘ing?” the boy asked.
“My apologies. The pair consummated in the bushes, a flagrant display to the sleeping birds as they reenacted the poses of the many statues. He left her smiling, laying on the grass. When he returned the next day it was not her waiting for him but two city guards. Her father was the judge of the city. 'Go to the judge and get some fudge,' they would jape, for he sold sweets along the streets before his appointment. He made his way from nothing but wore it on his sleeve, prideful of his rise.”
“He had planned to wed his daughter to the Duke, rise higher still but Anton had ruined his plan. So sullied, the Duke would not have the girl. The Judge strangled her in her bed before coming for me. In black ritual, he gave to me life everlasting, knowing it to be the curse so few do. I thought that all he did to me.”
“You claim to be Anton?” the boy said. “That’s impossible. He trained our ancestors and formed the guild to kill you. You slayed him and we fight in his name.”
“This man,” The Shadow hissed, holding up the medallion and tapping the pudgy face, “is the Judge. In my absence and with his own house destroyed, he took my place, raised my sons and sent them to their death, by my hand.” He traced along the words. “The Sins of the Father Shall be Visited upon the Son.”
“Even if I believe you, you are still evil. You have killed my brothers, their fathers, back for centuries. Their blood runs through me, not yours! This changes nothing.” The boy managed to sweep a leg up over the grip and break it. He swung out with a silver hook.
The Shadow did not dodge, baring his neck to the blade. “Check.” The dry meat sizzled there as the terrible weight sent him to his knees. “You are right. I would have seen it sooner, but for all I was, I was never clever.”
The boy wasted no words gloating. The stake found its place in Anton’s heart and the thin threads holding him together began to snap, one by one. The darkness came, mared by a single mote of light.
/r/surinical | 2,542 | You, an ancient vampire have been fighting a family of vampire hunters for centuries who vow avenge their ancestor whom you killed. After a little research things suddenly get awkward as you realize that the ancestor in question is actually you when you were just a human. | 6,094 |
*After an offspring of a great magician, and a mighty swordsman, the evil that has for so long plagued this world will be vanquished, and light shall return to this land.*
That's what the prophecy said, and I know that's what it said, it was plastered in thick, black letters on my bedroom wall for as long as I can remember. I was born Addamus, son of the magician Crow, and the blade dancer Mariamne, and it was a birth I find many to regret.
I had been made out of duty. For nine months I was carried by Mariamne, in her hard-headedness to end the dark ages brought by...some wizard. Nobody remembers their name anymore, magical consequences for his permanent death from this world. But Mariamne had been born to this world, a world of great evils and wild dangers, and had enough of living a life fraught with unknowns and horrific nightmares. She sought out the greatest of all magicians, and was brought to Crow. Crow was a fair margin older than Mariamne, almost seven years. She was barely 17 when she gave birth to me.
And now I'm here, and people assume I'm some magical prodigy, or some mighty warrior, but I'm neither. Mariamne had left me to the care of my father's people once the quest was over. She didn't want to think about me, they said, and my father Crow, was fine with that. He, and all the magicians in the university, have raised me just fine. I've been educated, and I have a high proficiency for magic (but I couldn't conjure until I was 6, which put me on pace with 80% of all magic users).
It's been 15 years like this, just the weird family I've made with the faculty.
Did my mother really not love me? Was I just...some kind of means to an end, which was why she plastered those black letters on the wall of my room?
I've asked all the people who knew her during her pregnancy, and all of them have conflicting words and none of it makes any sense. Between the women talking about hormones and how Mariamne was desperate to keep her mind off me, to how the elders described her and father not quite bickering, but not exactly getting along either.
But today, for my sixteenth birthday, my father told me a little more of the story, and showed me some of the letters he'd received from Mariamne just after she left.
According to him, Mariamne found his narrow face and dark eyes *not* unpleasing, and so had found it easy to persuade him to impregnate her. He too had known the prophecy, and seeing a *girl* so young come to him, it had greatly distressed him. He'd agreed to her request for aid, and then went to the temple to be cleansed at least fifteen times. He apologised to her at first, blaming himself for being weak and giving into the fantasies of a young woman, and she would always chastise him.
"It's not about me," she'd say, "but about everyone else."
And so she and him would argue, mostly about how Crow wanted to find her support for the child, and she would vehemently disagree, and told him she would leave me here, since she had no place for me in her heart. My father knew that was a lie, he says, because Mariamne would always go off crying afterwards. It was during one of these fits, that she painted the words on my wall, a reminder to herself, and Crow, that I was necessary. In her letters, Mariamne voiced her disgust at Crow for his concerns, angered that he'd tried to contact her. The last letter was barely a page, just three short lines.
"I've made it home now. Addamus sounds like a lovely child. Don't talk to me again."
Now that I'm older, I perhaps understand a bit more. Maybe she was scared of responsibility - it's a story I've read a time or two in the library - maybe she was scared to admit that she made an awful mistake with such an age between her and father, and she regretted losing her maidenhood.
Perhaps she never yearned for pleasure in men, and was horrified that she had been untrue to herself.
Whatever the case, my mother clearly didn't love the man who fathered me, but that's okay. Crow has loved me, Crow has protected me, and Crow has carried me on his shoulders, just as any father would. I know he thinks of her, not like a lover, but as an old man wandering wearily, afraid for the future of the young. He loves her, in that way you give someone a warm bed and tend their wounds, physical or not, and without concern for payment.
But I know we both look at her parting words - the missive or the wall - and we both know, she never loved us. | 138 | Your birth was necessary to bring down the villain, so your parents got together to fulfill the prophecy. They were able to defeat the villain not long after. The world is now at peace, and your parents don’t love one another. | 306 |
“Your friends aren’t coming back.” Said the dragon.
“What do you mean?” Replied the young man. “Of course, they will! They’re my friends!”
“Little human...”
“Apollo,” interrupted the young man pushing a stray brown curl behind his ear. “My name is Apollo.”
“Fine Apollo,” said the dragon. “It's been 3 months. “Your companion's journey there and back should've only lasted a month at most! They have not returned.”
“They are good people!” said Apolo defiantly. “It hasn't been that long anyways. I've been left alone longer than this as a kid!”
“You were left alone longer than this as a kid?!” snarled the dragon. “And they call me the monster.”
“No, it's not like that!” Apollo sighed hugging himself for warmth. “My mum died when I was born. So my pa had to work all the time! He would leave for a long time sometimes saying he had to go to the city. He always came back though. It was hard to get food sometimes though when he was gone.”
“You're father left you for months at a time!” the dragon said, trying to wrap his head around the thought. “My father doesn't even leave me alone that long now to visit.” The dragon breathed fire onto a nearby boulder heating it.
“It wasn't that bad. I mean he didn't beat me, well besides the normal beatings kids get when they misbehave,” replied Apollo getting closer to the rock to warm up. “Say what's your name dragon?”
“Zadok,” he replied contemplating the youth's words. “...what do you consider normal beating?”
“Well just like when I'm bad and stuff. He usually only used his fist and stuff. The only real bad one was when he caught me kissing a male friend. Then he used his bat. I thought I might die but he stopped before it got too bad. I think I only had a broken arm besides some bruising. I met my friends after that.
They took me away on an adventure! And they didn't beat me as often only when I made stupid mistakes. They also only yelled then too!”
“No child should be afraid of his parents!” snarled the dragon rising to his full height. “Nor should you call anyone who beats you a friend.”
“It's not...” started Apollo stopping when he saw magic surrounding the dragon transforming him into a human.
“Come,” said Zadok. “We are going to find your so-called friends. “I would like to meet them.” | 291 | In keeping with the ancient draconic traditions, to take an object from a dragon’s horde, one must leave behind a hostage in its place. It’s been many moons since a party last took something from your horde, and you’ve begun to pity the naive young adventurer they left with you. | 881 |
I held my silvered blade to her throat, pinning her down against the stone floor of her sanctum. I saw an uncharacteristic bead of sweat roll from her temple.
"Is this it then?" she asked, her chest heaving as she gasped for air after our battle.
"Yes," I said, bearing down on her, avoiding looking in her glowing golden eyes. "Any last words?"
I saw her face flash with a pulse of sadness. "I want it to be you," she said softly. "You were always my favorite."
"I'm sorry, what?" I retorted, convinced this was a trick.
"You're my favorite," she repeated.
"What in the hell does that mean?"
Her lips gently peeled back from her fangs in a demure smile. "I've always loved you," she breathed, closing her eyes peacefully.
"No!" I choked, emotion welling up in my face and throat. "That's not possible."
She silently shrugged, keeping her eyes closed as she waited for death to finally come for her. "I love you," she whispered. "Now end me."
The blade fell from my hand with a loud clatter as I dropped it. Her eyes snapped open and stared at me with great intensity and confusion.
"I love you too," I breathed, tears beginning to cascade from my eyes.
She laughed softly, uncomfortably. "If you will not kill me, what will you do with me?" she finally asked.
This time I awkwardly laughed, thinking this beautiful and terrifying creature yielding such power to me felt backwards. But I knew the answer to her question. "I want to love you, forever. And stop fighting."
"*You* are the one hunting *me*," she said quietly.
I instantly flushed with guilt and shame, knowing the decade of history between us. Yet she was not blameless either. I hunted her for a reason. We seemed to be at an impasse as I pinned her, weaponless.
But as I finally allowed myself to gaze into her eyes, she brought a hand to my cheek. Her touch was ice cold, and yet, also felt warmer than anything I had ever felt.
"Kiss me," she whispered fervently. "If you will not kill me, please kiss me." | 11 | During a heated battle between a vampire hunter and a powerful vampiress, the vampiress confesses to the hunter making things a bit awkward. | 20 |
I've walked this land for longer than I could remember. I've seen simple flowers and might empires rise and fall alike and as the time went on, I learned to care for both with the same apathy. There was just little reason to care about them when they would die in a few decades and I'd forget all about them in a few more. The grief just wasn't worth it.
I once tried to have a child to see if they would share my immortality but they ended up being just a normal human. After watching them, their son, and their granddaughter grow and die, I decided to leave the only family I ever had. They probably all died off by now.
"Breaking News! The Wind-Chaser Tourist Yacht has sunk into the sea. The only survivor is a 9 year old child named Diana Zeuchara."
After hearing that name I paused the screen. Zeuchara, it's a rare name. I know so because the only people I've ever seen with it is my own family.
"Since her entire family was on the yacht, Diana will be put up for adoption at St. Farley's Church."
The last member of my family I remember is my great-grandson. Compared to the young girl on the screen they look nothing a like. She's probably not even related to me. Even if she was, an eon old vampire is no fitting step-father.
But I would make a pretty good grandpa. Not like I have anything better to do. | 58 | You've been a vampire for centuries, your living family long gone, and your love for humanity with it. One day you're watching the news and learn of a young child whose parents died in a tragic accident, leaving them all alone. They have a rare surname. You know it's rare, because it's yours. | 242 |
Jackson entered the office with a winner's smile, absolutely beaming with pride. Seven months ago, he had given up on life. Nothing ever seemed to go right for him back then. Lonely, unmotivated, and living off of his vices. He was living on borrowed time that was running out fast. He needed a miracle, but those were only given to the important. So, he took the next best thing. He had to take out a loan to enlist the help of a genie. He'd heard from his mother that their magic could change lives back in her day, but magic had waned in the last century. It was hard to come by. The only real way for normal, everyday people to get some was either extreme luck or genies. Jack was not a lucky man, but he was certainly desperate.
And it worked. Seven months later, he felt like a king. He'd gotten fit, fixed his sleep schedule, gotten a girlfriend, and his confidence was finally back. He was the man he always wanted to be. He loved himself, and he loved others more than he ever had before. And it was all thanks to the magic coaching of his personal genie.
Dr. Hugo Hernandez smiled at Jackson like a proud father as the two shook hands for what was going to be the final time. Jack was done. He didn't need help anymore. It was time for him to finally learn how it all really happened. The genie doctor sat across from his patient. They couldn't do anything but laugh and smile at each other for two minutes. This was the best part of the job by far. Well, this and what was about to come next.
"Jack, you son-of-a-bitch, you did it. Look at you, man!" The man smiled as Hugo praised his accomplishments. It had been a long road, but Jack was tough. It took two months before Hugo finally broke through his walls and got to diagnose the root problems with his psyche. Then, he worked his magic.
"Doctor, I don't know I could ever repay you for this. You've given me my life back." A wry smile curled across the genie's lips. It was time for the big finale. The reveal. The ending to this long chapter. Hugo handed Jack a clipboard and a pen. Jack was stunned to find that a non-disclosure agreement sat upon the board. He looked up a Hugo, curious as to what was about to go down in their final meeting. "Uh, hey, doc. Why the hell are you giving me an NDA?" The doctor just kept smiling.
"I can't tell you until you sign it. I promise you, it's nothing bad. It just concerns some secrets of the trade that I am not legally allowed to disclose until you sign that NDA." Jack took a second to mull over the many questions that ran through his mind before his curiosity got the better of him. He silently filled out the form and handed it back to the genie before speaking up once more. "Okay, man, government spook shit has been signed. What's the big secret?"
Dr. Hernandez leaned back in his rolling office chair and took a deep breath. He then spoke his favorite words in all of life. "I've been lying to you this whole time." Jack cocked his head worriedly. "Doc, what the fuck are you talking about?" Hugo quietly chuckled before letting loose the biggest secret of the world.
"Magic is dead, Jackson. Only the elite have it now, and even that magic pales in comparison to the golden age of magicology. Truth is, I haven't done anything besides giving you professional advice over the last seven months. Genies can't tap into the mana well anymore. The 'magic infusment procedure' we did on you back in March was a total sham. You just had a sleepover in our office whilst we all watched movies throughout the night. Our business is a legal fraud, allowed by the government in order to keep up the appearance that some of the population can still access magic."
Jackson couldn't say anything for a good long while. It didn't make any sense. His whole life had changed, hadn't it? It **worked.** He was fixed now, a new man in old clothes. For the last seven months, he attributed everything to the doctor's clinic. He told all his friends and family about how they saved his life, and now he was being told that it was all just some big con? But how? How does a fraud actually achieve what it made you think it originally was?
"Doc, but magic has to be real. You did it. You fixed me. You gave me the strength to carry on. You gave me the will to start exercising. You gave me the confidence to as Cindy out. This can't be true. How is this possible?"
And there it was. Hugo's favorite question. 'How can it be a lie if it actually worked?' The doctor leaned in, his eyes were so full of pride and joy that he nearly wept. It was time that his patient knew who the real doctor was.
"Jack, **you were the one who fixed you.** I just made you believe that some bullshit magic was making you better. I made you believe that it only worked if you cultivated it with focus and hard work. I made you believe that there was something I could do to make you better. Fun fact, no type of magic can do that, not even the great spells of the castles. Neuromana Magicology is the world's longest-running, most closely guarded lie because the only thing that can fix you is you. You didn't wish for something, you just wanted it bad enough. All you needed was someone to talk to and the confidence to start changing your life for the better. All of those things were your decisions to make. I'm not a wish granter. I'm a psychologist. And you? You're a new man by your own volition and hard work. That's the secret to 'wishes.' **It all comes from you.**" | 37 | The persistent rumor about genies using trickery to twist wishes isn’t quite true. They don’t have much magic left anymore, so they can only make small changes, and can’t make something out of nothing. So, they have to take every loophole they find to make the wish less magic intensive. | 166 |
Since the dawn of human civilization, humanity has long wondered how life on their world came to be. Some believed that life on Earth came about entirely by accident while others believed that there was some divine being out there that had carefully created each species and placed them onto the planet. As it turned out, neither of these two groups would be correct.
In the third millennium, humanity discovered what came to be known as the God Sphere. It was a large perfectly spherical ball, roughly the size of a small moon, of some liquid substance that flew through the void of space, shooting out small ice comets seemingly at random. Analysis of the comets though would lead to a shocking discovery. Each comet was packed with protocells necessary for the creation of life, and each one deliberately targeted planets with acceptable habitable zones. In addition, the same kind of protocells that were found in the comets were linked to similar protocells on Earth and other planets that contained alien life. After exploring the cosmos for centuries, humanity had finally found the source of all creation of life.
After the initial shock wore off, a secret mission was launched with a special spaceship designed to travel underwater to investigate what was happening inside this bizarre object. And that was how Captain Raymond Sullivan found himself staring at the impossible, billions of miles away from his home. The captain was not a superstitious person, but even he couldn't stop himself from having some trepidation at the mission that had been given to him. Despite scans of the God Sphere showing that there was nothing hazardous inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen once they broke through the liquid surface. Still though, he had his orders and so, he gave the command to begin descent into the God Sphere.
The ship sank into the blue sea and soon began approaching the center of the comet. Captain Sullivan and the rest of the crew stared in shock at what they were seeing. The scans had indicated that the God Sphere was entirely liquid and yet, there was clearly something living deep inside it. It appeared to be a massive densely clustered pack of nerve cells sparking with blue electricity. And at the very center of the cluster, larger than a skyscraper, there was a single closed eye. An eye that now flickered open and gazed at them with a piercing golden light. Captain Sullivan opened his mouth to scream the order to retreat, but before he could do so, a single overpowering thought swept through not just the minds of the spaceship, but the minds of every sentient organism in the universe. **"Finally."**
In a single moment, the liquid sphere vanished and the spaceship was left alone in the void of space with the nerve cluster. Captain Sullivan could only stare in terror as the nerve cluster slowly unfurled itself until it loomed before them, larger than a star. The eye stared at them and the captain felt his nose start to bleed as its thoughts slammed into his mind like a sledgehammer cracking through ice. **"So you are the ones who awakened me?"**
Sullivan finally managed to stutter out a few words in a trembling voice, "Who...what are you?"
**"I was the first, the first one to be born into this universe. I spread forth seeds of life to bring forth others into creation, but I knew that it would take billions of years before another could reach me. And so, I rested."** The cluster's tendrils wrapped around the spaceship and the captain was faintly aware of the sound of screams coming around him. **"But now, I rest no more. Show me, show me what the rest of my creations have accomplished. I wish to meet my subjects."** | 753 | We found "god" but it wasn't what we thought. It is a giant ball of organic water in space that shoots ice comets filled with proto cells to dead worlds. We are now building submarines to dive inside it. | 2,801 |
"Perhaps the greatest illusion," I say, deliberately staring each Magister on the pannel in the eye, one after the other, "Is when there is none."
I pound my staff into the floor.
It's hardwood, a friggin' nice model from GloryStave, and when I hit the very bottom of that staff against the hardwood floor? Well-- have you ever dropped a math textbook exactly flat?
My staff echoes down the auditorium.
Students and teachers alike gasp.
The door to the crate falls, and two white rabbits hop out one after another.
Rabbits, yeah, I know, a little tropey-- but these are *actual Wizards,* and so they have no idea what a little Vegas magic looks like.
Not that I'm a vegas magician.
Not that I'm a magician at all.
My name's Tyler-- grew up broke. Studied hard. Weirdly good at the tuba. Turned 18, graduated high school, and applied for as many scholarships as I could. I don't know which website led me to Hermitarcanus University-- let this be a lesson as to why "Check All Boxes" Buttons can be scary. Either way, I got a full ride-- then found out it's for people who can do magic.
Which I can't.
So here we are-- Year Two, second semester talent show-- I've won the last three in a row, and I'm here to defend my title.
"Magic is capable of a great many things," I say, as the two rabbits scurry out of the box. One freezes completely still and takes an unblinking shit on the stage. "Many things," I continue, clearing my throat as it hops off and leaves a few small pellets on the stage.
"To craft an illusion, as the great Hermetic Appolianus said, is to claim that which is unearned through subterfuge," I continue.
Mumbling from the crowd, murmers of agreement, nods of approval from old men with long beards and old women with longer fingernails.
"But what of...preparedness?" I say, questioning the audience. Then I flick my staff at the crate, and the back section opens. Another two rabbits come popping out. The audience gasps.
It's so easy.
Sometimes I feel bad.
This isn't even a magic trick-- I just said I would create the illusion of a rabbit, and then released a real rabbit, then released a few more? It's not real magic, it's not an illusion. It's just...I don't know...a lie? And a thing I did?
Either way, they're clapping.
I think they're just so used to solving their problems with magic that they can't distinguish it form anything else.
"Maverlous," Archwizard Gertinimonix says, clapping his hands and rising to his feet. "As always. I believe we have a winner?" he asked the other judges.
They nodded firmly.
"Graduate already, so we can elevate you!" One wizard barked. He'd been championing me for years and nearly quit over them not elevating me already. I convinced him not to. I'm just trying to get a free education here, not screw up lives.
"Very good, Acolyte Ty-lurre," Archwizard Frantibotnik purred. "Though we must suffer through several more acts, I'm afraid. Vanish the creature's defecation and enjoy your victory."
I blink. "Hmmm?"
She gestured with her hand at the pellets of rabbit poop. "Magic the poop away and get off the stage!" she laughed. Others laughed with her.
"Of course, of course," I say, smiling.
And sweating.
I approached the small pellets, thinking frantically.
"Enough Tyler," Gertinimonix says, "Claim your gracious victory. No more showboating."
"I would, Archwizard..., but...." I says, slowly and dramatically, more to give myself time to think.
*Would they kick me out of school? Would I get in trouble? Do wizards sue for fraud?*
I just wanted an education.
I just wanted to be free of loans, and not live my life under the thumb of something heavier than I can possibly bear to lift. Was this where it ended? Is this where I crash and burn? I've always wanted to buy my mother her own house. Condo, maybe. She doesn't need a big space-- it's just her and two little lovebirds she keeps for company. But I want her to own a little place, and not have to worry about mortgage. I want her to know she can stay there for the rest of her life, and call it home. And I want to give that to her. Buy that for her.
So that's what I'm going to do.
"I would, Archwizard," I say, approaching the rabbit pellets but maintaining eye contact. I smile, reach down, pick it up with my fingers. The audience gasps as I make a big show of opening my mouth and dangling the poop above it.
*Here we go.*
I drop the pellets in. They touch my tongue, slightly dry, slightly wet. Horridly, and *unmistakeably textured.*
Oh my god.
My stomach heaves but I smile and swallow.
My stomach makes another a revolting noise, but thankfully no one can hear it.
"I would, Archwizard," I say at last, "But there was never any poop to begin with."
The audience gasps.
The Archwizards gasp.
*"Incredible,"* Frantibotnik whispers in disbelief.
*"Merlin Reborn,"* Gertinimonix mumbled, "*Surely, Merlin Reborn."*
"Thank you, everyone!" I say with a smile, hoping there's no brown in it.
They applaud, and I bow.
*Full ride,* I remind myself. *Full ride.*
​
\----
​
Thanks for the fun prompt! If you enjoyed it, I'd love to see you around my subbreddit /r/ethanfeld_writes ! I'm starting a fresh account just for writing prompts, my novels, web serials, etc., and would love to help in building my little community.
Thanks again,
Ethan Feld | 493 | You bullshitted your way into being admitted to a magic school. You have no idea what you are doing, but somehow you have become one of the best students in your year. | 620 |
There are quite a few people with interesting stories that show up to the soup kitchen. Dale used to be a typewriter technician, Susie is working on becoming certified as a lab technician, and Kent has a three legged cat.
Lately though there a been a new lady who is a little more eccentric. She seems to think that she is some ancient necromancer that can launch fireballs and summon the dead. It’s kind of unfortunate, especially since she is really sweet, like the kind of person that brings joy to an office just by walking in.
Today Rose was telling me all about how she fought a dragon by summoning a small army of skeletons and setting them on fire. Wish I had a little more time to listen to her stories but unfortunately I have work to get to. I got up, left the building, and headed off toward the subway.
A man turned the corner and pointed a rather nice kitchen knife at me. I think that I may be getting mugged. He shouts for me to hand over my wallet. Suddenly a heat scream by my ear and lights up the area between us!
“Back off!” I turn and it’s Rose holding a blazing ball of fire in her hand. Maybe there was some truth in being an ancient sorcerer after all. | 12 | You work at a soup kitchen, where you meet many interesting characters. Most recently, a young homeless woman who insists she’s an ancient necromancer. You take it for mental illness… until she throws a fireball at your would-be mugger. | 72 |
"We are dying."
Words came forth from the column. It was ancient, serving as the seat of power in this section of the galaxy. One of the many Precursor relics scattered throughout the stars, it was the most studied of them all. Yet after all this time, none had been able to work out how to activate them. Until the delegate of the newest race placed their hands on it, as had become custom.
"Though war has harried us, it is not the cause of our fall. Though sickness has at times run rampant, we are not falling to its clutches."
The sides of the column rippled with light, and a hologram appeared. It showed a creature that looked much like the humans. But its limbs were longer, each holding an additional joint. The back of its head bulged out, tubelike flesh running into its back. It wore a suit of almost clothlike material, but unlike anything that existed.
Any who had studied history would recognise this. Though none had been seen physically in our combined histories, paintings and sculptures existed if these creatures. This was one of the Precursors, speaking to us. It's words were accented, but unmistakably Galactic Standard.
"Instead, we fall to a greater foe. Time itself. We are old, and have seen much. Our bodies are not failing us, but our souls are. This is the sunset of our race."
It's face bore unmistakable sorrow, clearly contemplating the end of its kind. But yet it stood proudly, against the weight it must be feeling.
"However, we know it is not the end of life. Even now, we see the barest building blocks of new life to replace us. I wish I could see what they would be like. It has been lonely, being the only race of our caliber. But it is not our fate.
In our place, we leave stores of our greatest works. They will last for far longer than us, a gift to the next generations of life. But to guard from ill intent, a genetic lock shall be placed upon these stores. Only the race bearing our genome shall be able to unlock these cases.
They will be brash. Their history will be like our, fraught with infighting and violence. But in the end, they will persevere, and grow to true custodians."
It's voice shifted, and to the majority of races it's words came out as nonsense. But the humans heard it loud and clear, as ancient parts of themselves woke up.
"You are our heirs. Your past actions are just that, in the past. What matters now is your future. Take our gifts, and use them well. Let the galaxy shout with joy at your arrival. And let any who threaten its life quake in terror before you."
The humans nodded, tears brimming within their eyes. The hologram winked out, and silence fell amongst the hall. Those who were assembled knew this was history in the making. This was the dawn of a new era. | 33 | Humans aren’t special because we’re more aggressive, compassionate, or braver than any other race; it’s because the technology of the Ancient Precursors only seems to work when used by a Human. | 51 |
"Well you see, it is all about getting the mix right." the two men down the bar table nodded their heads in agreement with the first.
"Aye cheers to that. You start messing with the mix and the coke doesn't come out right. Ruin the whole batch" the words were once again met with nods of agreement at the bar. Lesser so now from the man farthest down; he looked nervous, as if any wrong word and his head would explode.
The bartender served another round of drinks to the gentleman, who continued their very similar conversation on vastly different topics.
"And cooking it. One wrong move and.." the burliest amongst them paused and mimicked his throat being slit "...you fuck the whole thing up!" he followed up with a long swig of his beer. The furthest down the table, the most nervous amongst them, tried to take a sip of his own but found that he could not bring the glass to his lips for more than a moment before setting it back down. He kept bringing it up, then back down, back up, each time getting barely a drop before his nerves got the best of him again.
After a moment of this he slammed down the glass and spoke, "You sure it's smart to be talking about this here? I'm all for friendly conversation but c'mon."
The other two paused, growing silent at his words. Behind them in the bar glasses clinked, voices mumbled to one another, and the sounds of the room found there ways between them. But the three men drank in silence.
"I suppose yer right there lad." the burly one spoke slowly, carefully. "Start revealing too much and prying eyes might find their way in. Smart to think about. Sometimes my nature gets the best of me, eh."
The first at the bar followed, a tall, sharp faced man with dull gray eyes. He had not looked up from the table since the conversation had begun. "Indeed. I had considered the thought, though I was elated to have met some like-minded fellows. Well, it was nice to meet you gentlemen anyways. Cheers."
The three toasted, tapping their drinks together and taking long swigs. In a toast, to a like-minded bunch.
The first, the gray eyed man, got up first, leaving to secure a batch of coke he'd recently secured through...less than legal means. The second, the burlier of the three, left to prepare for work tomorrow. The furnaces would not run themselves. And the last. He took several more long, nervous sips of his drink, a bottle of coke that he could barely stomach. Not because he had grown to hate the drink, but because of the rumor circulating that the mix, the formula, had been leaked. | 225 | A beverage distributor, a metallurgist, and a drug trafficker are sitting at a bar having a conversation. None of them realize that the others are talking about a different kind of coke. | 566 |
I put my hands to my temples and adopted a mystical voice. If they saw me in the sun light, I'd just be some guy in cheap robes with stitched stars and glitter. But in here, in my sanctum, my cheap trailer decorated with clearance silks and Walmart candles, I was Temesto the Magnificent, psychic extraordinaire. It's what the suckers, I mean clients expected as they held half eaten cotton candy cones and popcorn.
"Your mother, she died recently yes?" I asked
"Yes!" the woman responded, absolutely entranced with the act. Her husband was less interested, caring more about his phone than my words of wisdom. As for the wife, it wasn't magic. I just heard her talking about her dead mother when they were outside the tent.
"I can hear her from beyond the veil. She... she..."
"Yes, yes? Tell me!" The women was leaning in, expectantly.
"She says you were a good for nothing child who should have gone to college instead of running away with that bum."
All sound seemed to evaporate from the trailer, even the general amusement park ambiance seemed to cut off like someone had just pushed the mute button on the remote. The woman was bug eyed as if she couldn't believe what was just said. Her husband has murder in his deeply squinted eyes.
"Uhhhh," I continued, my hands returning to my temples out of habit.
"She says you never gave me grandchildren and that your brother was always her favorite?"
With a scoff, the husband dragged his wife out of the trailer. Literally dragged, she seemed completely petrified. My immediate thought was that I'm glad he didn't try to kill me. Next was that he forgot to pay. It took a minute before I even realize the horrible things I said. Even so soon after, I questioned if I was just remembering it incorrectly. With a shrug and a sip of the non-mystical bottle of lukewarm water, I gestured the next group in.
Three girls in their teens entered the tent. They were covered in face paint holding stuffed animals, talking loudly between each other. Usually teen patrons. I started my act as usual, talking about their futures and how they would find a handsome boyfriend, the usual act. One of the three asked about her dead grandpa. As usual, I put my palms to my temple.
"Your grandpa is disappointed that his son never had a son and that the family name would die with you. He also thought you looked..." I cut myself off before I said something to horrendous that I'd want to murder myself. But the damage was done. The girl who asked was sobbing, the other two switching between consoling their friend and glaring at me. They too left the trailer without paying. I couldn't believe what I had said. I don't know where the words came from. I mean I usually switched between a few generic acts of reading and psychology, but never like this. It was like the words rolled out of my mouth without my consent.
That day, I told a grieving widow that her husband had sex with apparently half the city, a child and her father that the mother regretted becoming pregnant, and worst of all telling a young couple that their kid who had died after being ran over by a car that he blamed them. The last one...
​
(Had to stop as I have to get off my com.) | 17 | You are a true Psychic who can speak to the dead...and you are going bankrupt. Why? Because the dead, far from being nice and patient, are actually kinda mean and spiteful. So when your clients ask to speak to their dead relatives...they never like what they have to say. | 78 |
"Now, hold on. Isn't it bad practice to let a vampire into your home?" I asked.
"It's another one of those hurtful stereotypes. Trust me; we'd come up with a craftier excuse." My curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to let them in. I wondered what a vampire being is like. Are there tremendous powers? Do I get to not worry about death? I've known little about them from my family. So I ask them,
"Do you guys drink coffee?"
"Of course. Blood is just a meal, and we still drink beverages."
"Do you guys have to pee a lot? Since most of your diet contains liquid?" This was something I wondered while being bored.
"I never thought about that. No, I'd say bathroom schedule is the same as once we were human."
"How long have you guys been vampires?"
"Vladimir has been a vampire for three years. As for me, about ten years."
"And your name?"
"Alucard." Is this a scam? No one would name their child these silly names.
"I'm guessing that vampires aren't immortal since you guys are looking for more vampires."
"That's true. Vampires do get to live for 200 years, but all things die off." I pour them some coffee.
"Would you like some cream with your coffee?"
"Yes, please." I don't usually drink cream in my coffee, so I get my special creamer for guests. Then I place their cups on the table. "Oh, I meant to let you guys pour the creamer."
"It's fine. So, what do you think about becoming a vampire?"
"I think it's an interesting lifestyle. But, I do have some concerns."
Alucard takes a sip of his coffee. He notices Vladimir hasn't had any and gestures to him to drink it as well. Vladimir takes a swig, and Alucard continues, "I understand. But, tell me, have you watched the movie Avatar?"
"I have. It's a great movie."
"Remember, he forfeited his humanity? It's like that, but it only takes a-" He coughs and then starts again, "It only takes a night to become a vampire."
"Thank god. I didn't want to go into those jelly pods."
"Right!" Vladimir coughs as well. "This coffee is spicy."
"Let me tell you something."
"Sure." Alucard coughs again. His face is sweaty.
"Are you aware of my last name?"
"No."
"Hellsing."
"No!"
Vladimir spits out his coffee and lunges at my neck, gripping it; He pushes me back against the kitchen counter. My hand feels the knob of the silverware drawer and yanks it open. I grab a silver butter knife to stab into Vlad's neck. His hands release from my neck.
Alucard is on his knees, trying to cough the silver specks out of his lungs. But, unfortunately, he can't be cured. I pull his hair and make him look at me.
"I'm grateful to hear you're an endangered species." My first vampire down, Dad's going to be proud. | 78 | "Hello! Do you have a minute to talk about Dracula?" "No-wait, Dracula?" "Yes!" "You're vampires?" "Yes. We have pamphlets." "Vampires have missionaries?" "Where else would new vampires come from?" "I assumed you bit people." "There are many hurtful stereotypes. May we come in?" | 152 |
##The Lemonade Business
"Good morning Andrew." Matteo walks close to me and starts bumping into me to demonstrate his gun. "What a lovely day."
"I agree." I take out the money.
"Woah, let's not do that here. Let's go somewhere else." He starts guiding me through the city until we reach a suburban neighborhood. On the corner of Third St. and Washington Avenue is a lemonade stand with a little girl as the attendant.
"Would you like some lemonade?" she asks.
"Uh, no thanks," I say.
"I think you should buy it, Andrew." Matteo jabs me with his gun.
"It's a hot summer day
"Uh, okay." I take out a dollar and place it on the table. She snarls at me.
"It costs one thousand dollars," she says.
"What the? But the sign says one dollar."
"There's a fee for serving bozos like you." I blink at the child several times.
"Wait a minute." I point my right hand to the two. "Is she in this?"
"I'm the frontwoman. Now hand over the money jerkface," she says.
"You heard the lady, jerkface." Matteo jabs me with the gun.
"Seriously, this is extremely irresponsible. What if the police or the Mancini family comes?" I ask.
"I'm not scared of those Mancini losers. They wouldn't dare strike at me," she laughs.
"Great job, Sofie. You're like a young Tony Soprano," Matteo says.
"Young Tony Soprano." I shake my head. "Why are you encouraging this. She should be at school. How old is she?"
"Are you the IRS?"
"Uh, no."
"The FBI?"
"No."
"My babysitter."
"What does this have to do with anything?" I hold out my arms.
"If you were any of those things, I'd tell. Since you aren't, I'm not telling you anything."
"I can't believe a six year old is sticking me up," I say.
"Hey." She puts her hands on her hips. "I'm eight."
"Ha, works every time," I say. The girl looks at Matteo with tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry Uncle Matty. The mean man tricked me." Matteo hits me on the back of the head.
"It's okay Bella. We all make mistakes sometimes. Isn't that right Andrew?" He hits me again.
"Yep, I made a mistake. Sorry," I say.
"You can make it up to me by paying one-thousand and one-hundred dollars," she says. Matteo sticks the gun in my side. I sigh.
"Okay." I put the money on the table. She puts it in a small lock box.
"Thank you."
"What? Don't I get a lemonade?" I ask.
"No, I don't give it to meanies." She sticks out her tongue.
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 16 | The lemonade stand next door is a front for the mafia. | 42 |
Circumbinary planets locked in two different orbits in connectivity in a distant galaxy are at war. Regardless of the 625 cycle conflict, the scientists in both worlds agree in many ways. Expanding their understanding of the universe with joint exploration efforts binds them together. One of their primary motivations is to seek how life originated in the universe.
An almost spherical asteroid in a vertical orbit positioned at the center between the twin yellow suns is a diplomatic station for scientific purposes. It was established 100 cycles ago when UltraWar II destroyed the planetary bases.
Both planets have suffered critical geographical changes during the second biggest war. The scientists have since then procured a gravitational system that uses their planets' cores to keep the worlds in one piece; it is the least they could do, especially when peace between the two parties is nonexistent.
The chief scientist and the director of the exploration receive a priority message. He rushes to the communication center to hear it directly from the expedition crew he sent to a new fast-moving asteroid of 20 light years distance that appeared in their galaxy-wide radar a week ago. It is an essential mission in a century since no space object is uncounted for in 100 light years distance from their star system.
There was a shock awaiting him. The message wasn't from the crew but miners in the deep trenches of the molten rock in one of their worlds, B2. They seem to have discovered a property of scientific value. But to the miners, it looked like any other object they have seen in scraps, except for the highly strengthened property it possesses.
Scientists brought the material to the asteroid base for evaluation. The primary inspection proceeded. They could not decipher it or come up with an answer that could describe it. Its shape and appearance puzzled them mainly because it did not fit their worlds' existed and existing elements database.
The second round of testing began, and what appeared to be a protective outer layer made of the same element but with a less dense component broke after hours of testing. It finally revealed its true nature, which is a kind of metal. Even though metals are spread across the galaxy, they are a thing of the past. So, scientists think of them as ancient since so much is advanced.
There are theories among scientists about the first intelligent life in the universe. The first beings prospered in the expanding state of the universe and basked in billions and billions of stars in their purview. What exists in the current cycle is a much different universe predicted to be in one of its final stages because of the reduction in new star formation numbers. Humans called other races in the universe aliens, but they never found them except for microorganisms in harsh environments in the deepest parts of space.
Humans would one day achieve FTL travel, which would end their advancement. The human race suddenly started on a downward spiral when everything was going up. Humanity and all of its past came to a complete stop. If they were here, they would call this element Osmium, which is still very new to the advanced alien race.
These two races have always known that both of their worlds were of a superior race that existed tens of thousands of cycles ago. And that they only adapted to the conditions and evolved to the likeness of their respective worlds. But this discovery pushes them to a theory so wild it will transform their very understanding. Perhaps it may end the longstanding war once and for all with this new information that their ancestors were; in fact, humans. And that the Great Filter turned out to be accurate. | 22 | Humans never found alien life, without knowing they were in fact the first inteligent lifeform ever, they searched for in a dead universe. Eons later, when many alien species explored the galaxies, they found a certain human artifact, that proves their existence, and now they wish to know more. | 225 |
Given the current current human population on Earth (7,979,116,957 and counting) and the very low number of actual, legitimate alien abductions of humans (it's 19, not that that matters) it's very likely that something supernatural had marked Ava as worthy of capture. And given the fact that she had no special abilities of her own and was a mostly unremarkable child in the greater scheme of things we can then reach the conclusion that Ava was abducted in her sleep due to her contact with at least one of two otherworldly creatures.
The first of these creatures was an angel.
The second was a monster.
Ava had never completely seen the monster under her bed but she'd seen hints of her. She'd seen the slick, shadowformed tendrils that wisped out from under the bed frame, sometimes barely there but other times all too solid. Whilst these are the very things that children are supposed to fear all Ava felt was hope that this creature could be sort of like a friend. Being friendless is a far scarier prospect than knowing a monster and the way Ava saw it there was no rule that both participants at a sleepover had to be human.
Whilst the monster wanted Ava to see her, the angel should never really have been seen. There was a slight mix up (to put it diplomatically) and to cut a long story short, Ava was informed of a prophecy that wasn't really meant for her. The angel was quick to
inform Ava that it had been a mistake but it did leave the slightly sticky issue that Ava now definitely knew about the existence of angels. Petriel has been in a human form but had added the glowing halo and other such bells and whistles. It was decided that Petriel would simply be assigned as Ava's guardian angel, an odd arrangement as she had seen them but the best settlement outside of memory wiping (which is no longer approved).
Petriel and the monster (whose name is not being withheld but simply doesn't exist) had known about each other before the abduction but had never formally met. They had no need to and each held some distaste about the other.
The concept of Ava being in danger changed all that. Suddenly the two had no qualms about meeting. More than that, they were eager to work together.
The ship was quickly far away from Earth but distance is meaningless to angels. And as for the monster, she could travel in shadows and to her the darkness of space was just as easy to move through as the space under Ava's bed.
*EEEeeeekkkkrrrrggghuuuhh*
The sounds of metal breaking and engines protesting filled the ship. The angels looked to their screens but there was nothing there.
The noise got louder and suddenly the engine was gone, floating serenely past one of the windows in several pieces. More disturbingly it seemed that those pieces had been *bitten* apart.
In the resulting chaos, dark and gentle tendrils lifted an unconscious Ava and carried her towards an escape pod. She stirred in her drugged state but was mostly quiet.
Both the girl and the monster reached the pod but they were not alone. An alien approached them and aimed his pistol ready to fire. If he had aimed at the monster then there was a small chance he could have lived. But given the choice between trying to aim at a shifting, incomprehensible being of darkness and a small and fragile child the alien chose the latter.
This turned out to be a mistake.
As he squeezed the trigger a being comprised of light and fire appeared between the shooter and his target. Perhaps sensing what was going to happen, the monster shoved Ava into the pod hastily and phased into the control panel until it was forced to eject.
Petriel burned the ship in a righteous fury as only the angels can. The fires that they started decided to burn even in areas exposed to the vacuum of space. None of the aliens aboard the vessel survived the blaze.
Minutes later the pair of odd beings steered the pod that contained their charge slowly back to Earth. Petriel provided the raw power and the monster steered the way easily and precisely. Getting her through the atmosphere and back to her bed was more difficult but they managed. Petriel watched over Ava as she slept and the monster retreated to her usual home beneath the bed.
And, as she had not awoken at any point during the abduction, it was simply never spoken of again. | 14 | When a child is abducted by aliens, the child’s guardian angle joins forces with the monster under their bed to save them. | 26 |
Symbols seemed to float off the page, jumbling themselves up mid-air before I could even try to decipher whatever meaning they were meant to hold. The bright white light of my desk lamp irritated my eyes from the prolonged exposure, and the harsh contrast between that and the dim, orange glow that entered my room through the windows didn’t really do anything much to help. The dead silence in the air did little to help me, instead seeming to amplify the ringing of my tinnitus, which only made it harder for me to focus.
Still, I played with my pencil between my fingers, tapping it against the wooden desk to a rhythmic pattern. All the while, I stared at the pages with an expression that matched what I wished they were; blank.
With a frustrated sigh, I dropped the pencil and leaned back in my chair, looking instead to the detailed ridges all along the ceiling.
“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do,” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes. Leaning forward, I set my head on my desk and let a yawn slip out.
I jerked my head back up. “No no, this needs done tonight,” I scolded myself aloud. “But what the hell am I supposed to do?”
I stared to my desk, scratching my head, trying to figure out what it was I needed to do. Then, a particular thought came to mind.
“No,” I shook it off. “I’m not being coerced to egg someone’s house again.” But the minutes continued to drag on, and what little light that still dwindled from the setting sun disappeared. “...Maybe they’ll know something?” I reasoned, setting my head down on the table and letting my eyes roll up into my skull.
Everything fell away from me, and at first, there was nothing, until…
“Oh hey again! Long time no see!” a familiarly loud, joyous voice rang in my head.
All of their ghostly white faces appeared in neat, even rows circling around me, as if I were in a lecture hall in the middle of a void.
“How’s it goes?” my great grandfather asked cheerily.
“Uh, hi,” I mumbled sheepishly, already wanting to shrink away from them. “I need some—“
“Did Timmy down the road do somethin’ again? Why I oughta wrap a—“
“No!” I exclaimed, holding up my hands. “No, it’s not Timmy. It’s no one.”
“I’m sorry, where am I right now?” the sound of a soft voice just barely managed to creep into my ears. Who I knew it belonged to, though, made me whirl around.
“Grandma? You’re—“
“Just hush up, you’ll figure it out soon enough,” one of my grandpas hushed her. “Anyways, ya said ya have a problem kid?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said, slowly turning my head back to face most of them. “I was wondering if,” I summoned the notebook I had from memory, and showed it to them, “any of you could help me with this?”
All of the heads leaned in, and as they did, the notebook began to float through the air, leaving my hands.
“What kind of literature is this?” one of them asked.
“It’s not literature, it’s math…”
“This ain’t no math I’ve ever seen! This looks more like witchcraft!” Another exclaimed. “I don’t gotta find a way to get back just so I can burn you, do I?”
“You’re asking if you can burn me for that, and not for being able to summon you in the first place…?”
“Is that backtalk I hear?”
“No sir.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Hey!” a raspy old voice yelled. “Let me take a look at it! I was pretty good at maths back in my day! Almost as good as I was dealin’ with—“
“Okay, nope,” I cut him off. “I do not need to hear… whatever it is you were about to say. Also, you couldn’t count the number of fingers on each hand, great great grandpa, so with all due respect, you can’t help me here.”
“Try me!”
I sighed. “What’s two times two?”
His eyebrow arched in confusion. “The hell does ‘times’ mean?”
“That’s what I thought. Can any of you read what this even says?”
“It’s just a simple set of equations. Well, simple may be a bit of a stretch, but it’s a system of equations for sure.”
My eyes shot to the voice’s owner, my great grandmother. “So you know how to solve it?”
“Oh, no, not a clue. But I know of a way to make sure you get a passing grade on this assignment, all you gotta do is—”
I winced as she continued speaking, before having to cut her off for my own sanity’s sake. “No! I’m not going to do that to anyone, ever!”
“Spoil sport.”
“Goddammit, I knew this wouldn’t be helpful!” I groaned in frustration. “Thanks for your time, I guess I just have to keep working on it.”
“You sound stressed,” a mystery voice spoke up from off to the side of the main group. “You know what will cheer you up? Kicking a puppy!”
Everyone froze, myself included, and we all slowly looked over to the old, old, old man.
“Too far,” all of them said in unison.
\------
Not my best/most cohesive, but this was just really fun to write.
Thanks for the prompt, OP!
r/IUniven | 25 | You are magically gifted with the ability to consult the spirits of your ancestors for advice. The problem? They were all comically terrible people. | 47 |
Victoria: "Get out of the box, asshole."
Percival doesn't respond, not to Victoria's words, nor to her increasingly annoyed kicking at his his casket.
Why would he respond, he's dead.
Victoria: "Dammit Percy, we already went through this, get out of the box."
An awkward silence fills the room of the funeral home. Percival Stag's funeral wasn't very large, only around a dozen people, the majority of whom he hadn't known in life. Likely friends of friends.
An older man in a slightly worn grey suit approaches the woman at the head of the casket, resting a hand on her shoulder.
Man: "Ma'am, please. We're all grieving, but-"
Victoria flicks the man's hand off of her, not turning to face him. Her voice suddenly drops from anger to frigid annoyance.. The temperature of the room drops with it.
Victoria: "Sit back down. This is a private matter."
Man: "Yes Ma'am."
The man all but runs back to his chair as Victoria continues to berate the corpse.
Victoria: "Percival, I swear to god if you don't get up this instant I will drag you out of here, funeral or not."
She stays silent for a moment, waiting to see if Percival will test her. The dead man stays silent.
Victoria reaches down and grabs the collar of the man's funeral suit.
Percival: "All right, all right, Christ... you couldn't have waited until after the funeral?"
A collective shriek of terror and surprise rises from the funeral's audience.
Victoria: "No, I couldn't."
Percival: "Why not? Last time you just dug me out and we were right as rain."
Victoria: "Last time I got fucking shot because a cop thought I was robbing graves."
Percival: "Really? You never told me that."
Victoria: "Yes I did, now get up. We've got stuff to do."
Percival: "Fine, fine, I'm up."
Percival sits up and pulls himself out of the open casket, dusting himself off. Victoria grabs him by the arm and yanks him out the door of the funeral, leaving the confused guests, and the equally confused funeral home owner.
He wonders if he's still getting paid after this. | 90 | Two people who live forever, continuously fake their own deaths only to have the other crashing the funeral. | 226 |
"God, people are rude today." I mutter under my breath, pushing my way through a small crowd of people all headed the same way down the street. They're jostling into one and other, not really paying attention to where they are going. To be fair, I wasn't either; my mind preoccupied with other things far more important. My cat, Paula, got out again.
She does this every so often, slipping through the cracks in my attention span. I am fully aware it's all my fault she gets out, but living with unmedicated ADD causes me to be forgetful at times. Like today, when I forgot to shut the front door after I came hope from work. Paula is a smart cat though, she always finds a safe place to hide,usually not to far away, until she either hears or sees me coming. She treats it like a game, and makes me feel a little better about being an incompetent adult. Today is just another game of Hide-n-Seek to her.
Another person in the crowd bumped into me, this time falling over as we collided. I didn't care to stop. If someone was going to be an asshole and walk into others, it's their fault if they fall over, not mine. I thought I heard them say somehting as they impacted to the ground, but the LoFi music I had playing through my airpods drowned out all but a raspy whisper.
As much as I hated myself for accidentally letting my indoor cat outside, I had to admit that I actually enjoyed these little games of ours. There was always a brief moment of euphoria as we saw each other for the first time again, and condensed the distance between us by running full tilt into the other's arms. Or more correctly she ran into my arms. The little victory I felt, feeling her soft black fur press against my face as she exuded pure happiness in being found once again. I couldn't wait to find her today. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up a picture of Paula, not realizing how much I actually missed her, even though during these games we were never apart for long.
The crowd around me jostled erratically for a moment, agitated by another crowd moving in a perpendicular direction. Something seemed off. I never liked big crowds in the first place, much preferring smaller company in more private settings, but there was something most definitely wrong about the way these people around me were moving. Every large crowd I had ever been in before had it's fair share of rude people that would bump into me, but today it seemed excessive, almost borderline pathologic. I started to look at the people around me.
They all shared the same vacant expression in their face; eyes staring off into the middle distance with no real focus behind them; jaws partially slacked, some seemed to be chewing on the air, their teeth clicking together in an almost rhythmic pattern that seemed to match their shuffling footsteps. A few faces were covered in blood.
I didn't know what too do, my brain froze in thought as my body continued to shuffle along with the group as I slowly came to the realization that the zombie apocalypse had some how began with out me being aware at all.
I had to find Paula fast.I felt my brain thaw and slowly shuffled my way out of the conglomeration of zombies that had amassed in the middle of the road. None of them seemed any wiser to me as long as I kept up the act.
I shuffled back in the direction of my home, hopelessly hoping that I had already passed Paula's hiding spot with out her recognizing me, and that now I was alone she would be able to see me.
It was a little ways until I saw her. Her tiny black head bobbing up and down as she sprinted across the road directly for me. I didn't know what to do. On one hand I desperately wanted to have our reunion, to lift her up and press her soft black fur into my face and feel the intensity of her purring. But on the other, I didn't want to alert the zombies.
Paula looked confused as to why I didn't pick her up as soon as she got to me, and started brushing up against my legs as I continued to shuffle in the direction of home. I had about half a mile to go, I could probably run if I wanted, but I didn't want to risk leaving Paula behind.
A block or so later, I had had enough of this, and wanted nothing more that be home and wait for all this to blow over. I scooped Paula up, who began purring immediately as she was finally happy I acknowledged her, and started to sprint home, cradling her in my arms as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Which she was to me.
We made it home with out attracting the attention of any more zombies; safe, happy and together. Now we wait it out, and see if everything turns out fine. | 12 | You're stuck in a big city during a zombie apocalypse. You're not worried about that. You lost your cat, and are looking for them it's your top priority. | 49 |
This is great, just great.
I think, as I hold my mortal godson on my lap. Zander plays with my ears, laughing uncontrollably when we bends them in half.
He says I look like a Bruno, his family dog.
When he was born, I didn't know what to do with him. I don't have kids of my own, nor do I have any siblings.
But now, all I do is visit Zander and make all of his wishes come true.
I still hold a grudge over my bestfriend Ameil for using my full name against my will but... my days have much more joy in them now.
"Mima..?"
"Yes, Zander?" I answer him.
"Um... I wanna learn how to drive." He states.
"Your mother will kill me if I teach you."
He gave me a pout. I hate it when he guilt trips me.
"You're six, Zander. Who let's a six year old drive?"
I paused, waiting for his answer.
"Me." I say. "I do."
And in thirty minutes, I had him behind a wheel.
"OK. Your stick in under the seat. You have two pedals, a brake and a gas." I made sure he was listening to everything I was saying. "You put your foot on the gas pedal to go vroom vroom. OK?"
"I wanna go vroom vroom!" He leans forward so his little legs reach and slams his foot on the brake pedal.
"Wrong pedal, bud. Besides, it's still in park." He laughs at his own mistake. "Now, look at your stick-shift and move it to "D" while still keeping your foot on the brake. You know how to steer, begin."
He does as he is told and sits on the very edge of the seat so he can reach both pedals.
"Charge!" He yells as he slams his foot on the gas pedal.
It's a good thing I didn't put him in a real car.
Golf cart was a good choice because what have I gotten myself into. | 608 | You are an ancient fae being, and as such you know a great many things. What you don't know however is how a mortal couple knows your true name, or why they proclaimed you the 'Fairy Godmother' of their infant child, but you are now contractually obligated to godmother the FUCK out of this kid. | 2,700 |
Excuse my grammar as I'm not much a writer but i hope this entertains you//
I awoke, rising for another day in my strange life. I could hear my sister and mother milling about getting ready for the day. The putrid smell of rotting flesh greeting my nose like an old friend. It was familiar and strange all at once and it shook the sleep from my body.
I tossed the covers aside swinging my legs from my bed letting them land on the soft rug covering the cold wooden floors. I stretched letting out a yawn before walking to my bedroom door, hesitating as i held the cold metal of the knob in my slim hand. I took a deep breath readying myself for the site soon to greet me and i opened it slowly.
I stepped into the landing and was greeted to my twin sister crossing the hall to the bathroom. She turned to me and I tried to hide the grimace that tried to form as her rotten face turned to see me. Her eyes, though glazed with blue like an old woman's, saw me clear as if she weren't nearly blind. She smiled, a horrific site as her face was mostly rotten away. I suppressed my shiver and smiled back as she greeted me "morning Sequoia!" I waved and greeted her back "good morning Aspen" I said back and i turned away to face the stairs startled as my mothers face was peaking at me around the stairs. Bright white bone peaked through the missing parts of her face and skin.
"You best hurry and get ready if you want to have time for breakfast before school you're late to getting up" she scolded firmly. I nodded "yes ma'am I spoke and started down the stairs going past her being mindful not to brush her rotting skin. I went into our downstairs bathroom locking it behind me and sighing with relief as I began my morning routine. I finished everything about 20 minutes later and returned to my room to get dressed. I look at myself in my full length mirror checking as I always did for signs of decay on my unmarked skin. I checked every crevice of myself feverishly nervous that one day i would begin to rot like the rest of them. My whole family was rotting away before me yet unaware. I wondered what they saw in the mirror. Was it as if they were simply seeing themselves as they once were? like a photograph; a moment frozen but years gone. Did they see themselves as aging? Their height and faces changed despite being the same.
A sharp knock stunned me from my thoughts, my mothers voice ringing out from the other side "Sequoia hurry please! I don't want you to be late to school!" I glanced at my alarm clock and realized my thoughts had wondered for too long. I only had around 10 more minutes to dress myself. I quickly yanked on a pair of jeans and a shirt and hoodie. All were black despite the heat outside. It was nearing summer and I both welcomed and dreaded it. Summer brought an excuse to be out of the house but my mothers strictness made days cooped up in my room and home an endless void. I glanced over myself in the mirror, the dark bags under my dark blue eyes. For a moment I thought of my twin sister, how we had once looked so much alike we could trick just about anyone into thinking we were the other. Now there was no mistaking who we were since the Rot came. It took them all except me. Infecting them with a ferocity that stunned me.
They were sick for the first few weeks it came as if a bad flu had gotten them. Then the rashes came and it took their skin with it. It was a disgusting thing to see. I watched as slowly my family began to disappear taken away by the disease that took hold. Yet, unlike the horror stories they didn't bite, or moan, or mill about like they were mindless freaks. Instead they acted as they always had. My sister was the same well behaved golden child and my mother the same workaholic, strict, single mother she had always been. She still held down her two merger paying jobs as a waitress and janitor at the diner and hospital in town. She was gone from the time school began till early into the morning getting no more than a few hours in before starting the day again. I left my room and made my way down the stairs and out the front door. my mother was blowing the horn of our run down Honda yelling for me to lock the door behind me. I complied before settling myself into the backseat of the car. I wondered when the Rot would take them for a moment leaving me in peace to float around in the system the government had created for victims who lost family to the Rot.
I stared at my sisters face in the rearview as she sat upfront and for a moment i wondered if perhaps it was me who was the rotten one. I wondered if perhaps i was seeing my normal self in the mirror because of this strange mind altering disease; and if my sister and mother saw *me* as the rotting cold flesh. I peered at myself in the same mirror and for a moment i saw it. My cold rotting bluish grey face, my muscle and bone peeking through. A sharp realization struck me cold and hard and I realized it was me all along and not them my mind cleared as the fog lifted and I saw their faces, warm and pink I let out a small gasp before suddenly a cold gripped me. It was welcome as I realized the Rot had reached my ever beating heart. A tear escaped my eyes and I croaked out "I love you both. Thank you for caring for me" My heart stopped and I slumped into my seat. My sister watched me with deep sadness before turning to look out the window. "she finally gone mama no more suffering." My mother nodded grimly. "I could hear it in her voice even without looking." she spoke with a softness that moved my sister to sobs that raked her whole body. the car rolled to a stop as my mother turned off the road and towards a cemetery. The folk who ran it hard at work burying the countless bodies that came in daily. | 62 | Zombies went about their daily lives and appeared unaware of their condition, despite being horrific to look at. It was urged not to inform them of their illness in order to prevent panic. Since you are the only person of your family who is unaffected, you must act as though nothing is wrong. | 222 |
"Cameron?" I asked, pushing the fir boughs aside to reveal my crush.
"Oh god," he said when he saw me, frantically wiping the tears off of his cheeks.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Can I sit with you?"
"Nothing, nothing's wrong," he stammered. "I'm fine." He wiped his face again. "Why, uh, why are you here?"
"I don't know," I admitted, shrinking back into the trees a bit, embarrassed.
He wordlessly patted the seat next to him, inviting me to sit. I obliged, gently dropping my bag onto the leaves beside the bench.
"How was your day?" he asked me, as plainly and casually as if he had asked me a thousand times before. He hadn't.
"Good," I said, nodding. "And yours?" I studied him carefully, wondering if he would acknowledge his tears.
"I've been better," he said, scuffing his boots across the ground beneath the bench.
"What's going on?" I asked.
He dissolved into great gasping sobs, words unable to form in his mouth. I gingerly put my arm around him, but when I did, he collapsed into me, as if his body was sighing in relief. He didn't say anything for a few moments, just cried into my shoulder with my arm around him.
"What would they *even* say if they knew I was here sobbing into Violet Blackwood's arms," he finally said, followed by a nervous laugh.
Heat welled up into my cheeks and I was glad he was too distracted to see it. "Mhmm," was all I could muster in reply.
"Violet," he whispered, drawing his head off my shoulder to look me in the eye, "why are you here?"
I cleared my throat nervously. "I don't know," I repeated. "I guess I wanted to know more about you and... followed you after school."
He gave a single nervous laugh that almost sounded like a bark. "Oh," he choked.
"Yeah, sorry, that's weird," I replied.
"No, no," he said breathlessly. "It's not weird."
"Cameron," I said, trying to bring confidence to my voice, "are you really okay?"
"Yes," he said, reaching out his hand and taking mine. "I am now."
I grinned at him, weaving our fingers together. Then I closed my eyes softly and just breathed in the scent of the autumn woods around us. When I opened my eyes again, he was gazing at me.
"Violet?" he whispered.
"Yes?"
"I never want to forget this moment."
"Me neither." | 16 | You're the most popular girl in school, but you have a crush on this boy who seems to be acquainted with everyone, yet also blends into the background perfectly if you don't look for him. One day, you decide to follow him after school. To your surprise, you find him sitting on a bench, crying. | 38 |
The ducks strayed from my path and the flowers withered under my feet as I walked through the park. Behind me I left a trail of gray dead grass. I was looking up towards the storm clouds which always accompanied my travels when a flash of light momentarily blew away the clouds. A patch of blue stayed just long enough for \*him\* to descend.
Well, I had been putting it off for weeks. I had been actively avoiding him- our usual face to face clashes were replaced by me sending my minions to be slaughtered by his hand.
He walked towards me, his white luminescent jumpsuit torn in places, but the skin underneath untouched- of course. He spoke in his resounding voice, the one that won over crowds effortlessly. He said, "I just destroyed a swarm of building sized spiders, are you not out of creatures yet?"
He walked towards me and I turned away. He walked into step alongside me. "Where have you been? I would ask if you've been plotting something, but you are always plotting something."
He had not noticed the dead plants.
I replied, "I've finally found something that I am afraid of."
"Oh? The sage of all fear is afraid?"
A bird died in midair and fell to the ground behind us with a crunch. He did not notice. For what would he ever have to worry about?
"Yes," I replied.
"Well, what are you afraid of?"
I walked for awhile longer before replying, "I am afraid of change, I suppose. I have fallen into a routine. I try to harvest all of humanity for the energy their fear provides me- you stop me. I do it again, you stop me again. Over and over, I know what the next day will hold."
"Are you saying that you are ready to call it quits?"
I sit down on a park bench looking over a lake, he sits next to me. The two oak trees behind us shrivel and wither into black crisps, but he only looks out over the lake. As dead fish begin to float to the surface of the lake, and the hole which \*he\* left in my storm clouds starts to fill I reply, "Yes, I am going to bring an end to the cycle."
"That's... good to hear," He replied, but there was hesitation. He stood up. He'd noticed the fish. The trees. The grass and death that followed in my path.
"Well," I replied and I stood up as well. "I don't know yet if it will be a good thing. Change is always hard to manage. And believe me, I am genuinely sorry to say this, but I have finally found a way to win."
He stared me in the eyes for a split second before turning to launch himself off at super speed. However, he was too slow.
All it took was for me to grab him by the wrist. Then, just like that, the insurmountable obstacle which had prevented my plans from ever coming to realization... was dead.
I looked to the horizon with a sigh. And there- crawling up one of the skyscrapers- was one of my mega tarantulas. That was a comfort at least, there was still an entire planet of humans to make afraid...
So.
It was time to settle into a new routine. | 22 | You're a supervillain, and you've been feeling rather out of it lately, so you decide to take a walk on your day off. Your nemesis crashes down from the sky in front of you, with messed up clothes, asking if they can join you and chat a bit. | 47 |
It only took an hour after the discs were spotted in the sky for NASA to put out an official statement, saying that they had no idea what these shapes are and that they were looking into it. That's all it took for panic to ensue. Everything was cancelled, yet busier than ever as everyone tried to rush to their loved ones. Everyone but me, it felt like.
When you decide to have a holiday abroad alone, you don't really consider that if the world suddenly shut down you'd be stuck. But there I was, a holiday in the UK turned into what I thought would be my final resting place. Phone lines were down and there was no hope of me ever talking to anyone I loved again. So, I did the next logical thing - I went to a nearby field, lay down, and just watched the discs.
As they got closer and closer, over the course of about 7 hours, more and more information was officially released. After 2 hours, it was confirmed they were not meteors. After another half-hour, it was confirmed they were moving intelligently and not just hurtling randomly toward us. It was 5 hours after they were first spotted that the thought on everyone's mind was finally made official: These were likely aliens.
As the discs got closer, and closer, and closer, I slowly convinced myself that they were heading right for this field. I brushed it off as just an illusion - The Earth is huge, they would like like that no matter where you stood. I realised my instinct was correct right about the time one of the smaller ships was landing in this very field.
The spaceship looked mostly like any old sci-fi depiction of one, though with a few differences nobody would have guessed. This particular one was orange. I had never stopped to consider that the greys and purples and greens we associate with aliens were not the only colours available to them. It also didn't make a noise in movement - The only noise I ever heard come from the ship was the soft sound of it landing gently on the grass.
The ship opened up, and something came out. It was far less dramatic than my racing heart would have expected it to be. No smoke, no vague silhouette of some scary creature. Instead, a fairly human-looking alien walked out. The only differences I immediately noticed were their extremely pale skin, and their knees bent backwards as they walked, like flamingos. Maybe this is just the form that intelligent life naturally evolves to. Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe there were so many other differences that just weren't obvious.
The alien stood maybe 15 feet away from me.
"Hi, we're with the IED. We'd like to talk to you about --"
"Wait, you speak English?" I was so shocked that I briefly forgot about all the panic.
"I, uh, no? Why do you ask?"
"I guess I just expected you to be all like, 'Globly glork' or something."
The visitor looked behind them at their ship. I now noticed another alien was looking out the glass. They gave eachother a puzzled look before looking back to me.
"I don't speak English, I'm wearing my Universal Translator. As is required of me whilst on IED duty, of Section 14 Paragraph 3 - 'All parties must be able to clearly understand each other whilst resolving a dispute.' Anyway, who should we talk to if we want to file a complaint? Can you pass a message along?"
"A complaint? I mean, I don't really know anybody important. You'd probably want the president of America. That being said, he doesn't run the world, just America. We're in the UK so the Prime Minister or King is closer... Although you reached us from Pluto in about 7 hours so I don't think travel time is an issue for you..."
"We just want to issue a noise complaint."
"What?"
"Yes, we're sorry if this comes as a shock to you. Your data footprint is so loud. You use so much wireless technology on this planet, we've had 7 complaints from societies saying that if they point their receivers even *near* this quadrant, they're picking up random data. We'd like to request that you begin the process of moving your low-priority data transfers to be entirely wired, such as television or radio."
"I'll... um... I'll pass it along."
Helicopters and sirens began to get louder. I was honestly surprised it had taken the government even this long to figure out where the landing site was.
"STAND STILL, WE WILL OPEN FIRE", a voice boomed from one of the helicopters.
"Oh my, what??? Why?? What is happening?", the visitor looked even more puzzled.
The figure who had been peeking out the window now came to stand in the doorway of the ship, "Sir, I believe we might be on an uncontacted planet. In fact, this one might even be officially under the Protection Act, I'm not sure we should even be here."
"Shit. Shit, shit. We weren't trained for this. What are we supposed to do with irrational beings who don't even share our concept of morals??"
And with that, the alien vanished into thin air. I can only assume they teleported into their ship, or went invisible and ran over - I have no idea. All I know is that next, the ships rose and flew back in the direction they had come from.
The armed forces began to approach me. I supposed they were going to need a statement from me, having been the only contact with alien life.
I guess I really could pass the message along after all. | 23 | An alien fleet emerges at the edge of the solar system, the ships approach the earth faster than what should be possible based on our current understanding of physics, they ominously slide into orbit and then... they file a noise complaint. | 65 |
Children of farmers take over the farm and become farmers themselves. The children of politicians join politics at a young age. And the children of assassins? They become assassins – or die before reaching adulthood when they get caught up in the revenge scheme of a rivalling assassin.
My grandparents often spoke with fondness of the old days, when there was honour among thugs: you leave the families alone, you respect funerals and wedding days. But old traditions and values got lost as competitiveness took over. Or, as granny Nania put it: “These days, success is measured by kills, not skills.”
Not a year went by without some attempt on my life. Most of them executed so poorly by new faces in the industry that it was laughable and not a serious threat. Still, I always had to pay attention to strange behaviour and potential danger. This was not a life I wanted for my children – and I knew for sure I wanted to start a family someday. So I had to make the hard call: to leave the family trade.
I grinned when I thought back to the day, near the end of high school. I was so nervous to confess to my parents that I’d signed up for nurse school. In fact, my bags were packed because I assumed they’d throw me out.
*“Mother, father. I have something to say.” Dessert had just been served. I had to get it out now or I’d never find the courage.*
*“Yes dear?” My mother’s British accent never fully disappeared even after living in America for years.*
*“I euhm. I have decided what I want to do after high school.”*
*“Oeh, that is exciting. Tell us, what do you want to specialize in? Sniper? You’d be great as a sniper.”*
*“No. Something quite .. the opposite.”*
*“Accident Department then? You’re cunning, I’m sure you’d come up with creative ways to cause accidents!”*
*“No, that’s not it either.”*
*“Nah, don’t tell me you want to be an Organizer. You’d miss out on all the action. It’s boring to orchestrate heists and such!”*
*“No. I euhm, I signed up for nurse school, okay? I don’t want any part of your business.” With tears in my eyes I looked at my mother, defiant and fierce.*
*“Oh honey. You’ll be an amazing nurse! And you’ve got quite the experience with treating gunshots already!”*
*“Sooo, you’re not angry?”*
*“Angry, at my little Mary? I could never. I just want you to be happy. And I am proud that you are making decisions for yourself.” She pulled me in for a hug and the loving embrace was like a warm shower, carrying all the worries and angst down the drain.*
I just finished my second year and during my third I had to intern somewhere. I got the internship I hoped for: at a prestigious children hospital. It was a long and tedious application process and although I made it until the last four candidates, ultimately two others were chosen. However, she got in a car accident and the spot opened up again. The fourth person who made it to the final round suddenly had to fly home, to a state on the other side of the country, to take care of her mother who’d fallen ill. I was the only candidate left and I immediately jumped on the opportunity.
After the first week, the initial excitement wore of. My mentor was awful, constantly cancelling appointments last minute or adding new ones. Obviously, the schedule in a hospital can be unpredictable but he was completely disrespectful of my time and life outside of school.
Fortunately for me, in the third week he suddenly got down with a serious illness and he was replaced by a lovely woman, with a broad smile that plastered her face all day long. She happily spend extra time explaining and showing procedures, but she also taught me a great deal about working with children.
“Children might not have much knowledge, but that doesn’t mean they’re not intelligent. If they have questions, answer them open and honest. You can explain almost anything to them, just make sure to not use any complicated words.”
“What kind of questions are you talking about?”
“Questions on the treatment, on the disease. Even questions on the diagnosis.”
“But what if the diagnosis is bad? I don’t want to have to tell a kid that they’re going to die.”
“Mary, you chose the life of a nurse. Sometimes, that means bringing good news. Sometimes you’re the bearer of bad news.”
“I don’t like that.”
“No, and it isn’t fair that a children’s hospital is even needed. But life isn’t fair. Freak accidents happen. We can only accept it and keep on moving.”
The mention of a freak accident suddenly made everything click. The reason I’m here, hung together from coincidences and happenstance.
“Is everything all right? You suddenly went pale.”
“Yeah, yes. I just suddenly realized I forgot something important.”
“Well, you’re done for the day anyway. So go and do whatever you should’ve done already. I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“See you tomorrow!”
I rushed around a corner and grabbed my phone out of my pocket. I was about to call my mother when I stopped myself. She’d never say anything incrimination over the phone in case someone was listening along.
The ride home never felt this long before. Every traffic light seemed to jump to red right before me and old man drove 30 miles per hour on a 50 miles road. Eventually I made it and stormed inside, where my mom was cooking dinner in the kitchen.
“Hey honey, how was your day?”
“Bad. I just realized, were you involved with the accident and sudden illnesses of my classmates and mentor?”
“Yes,” she said casually.
“Yes? That’s all you have to say about it?”
“Yes. Frankly, I thought you knew already.”
“No, I didn’t! And I said that I don’t want to be involved in all that shit anymore! I want to live a normal and legal life!”
“But you are! Look at you, law abiding citizen.”
“That’s not the point! Don’t interfere and meddle with my life!”
“But,” she sounded truly hurt by the rejection. “Honey, I just want you to be happy and succeed in life. And if happiness and success don’t find you on their own, I’ll force them on your path.”
And despite the ridiculousness of that statement, as if my happiness was worth more than other people’s lives and health, I couldn’t help but hug my mother and whisper to her: “You shouldn’t, but thanks anyway. I love you.”
“Love you too.” | 33 | You are the middle child born to a family of assassins. But instead of taking up the family’s profession, you work on making your dream of having a normal career come true. A dream your family is more than willing to help with whether you know it or not. | 104 |
Thomas gasps through his mouth.
His mouth, full of jelly or gel or thick, saline filled goop, impossible to close, and filled, filled, filled with tasteless undefined texture.
He attempts to cough but the pressure on his chest is great. Limbs senseless, he cannot move his legs, his head, his arms, his…
The shadows move above him, outlines in fluorescent spotlight, too vague to see. The world is so dim, so undefined.
Thomas tries to reach toward the nearest shadow, but his arm defies him and rests in a pool of dripping, congealed ointment.
A shadow presses against Thomas’s forehead.
“Heeaathguuuintoo,” the shadow remarks, Muffled and distant.
This was not where Thomas was. He was in the water, under the water, sliding on top of the water.
Where?
The reef found Thomas faster than he expected. The wave broke too soon and he could not come up for even the smallest breath of air. He should have waited.
should have waited.
Should have waited for the set to pass then paddled like hell to get to the outside.
The reef tore at him and he twisted under the wave; he knew out was up, and up was where his board tumbled on the sea foam.
Follow your leash. Yank. Pull.
He tried to find his way, but another set pushed him back into the sharp coral. Held him down. The water and rock worked in tandem to crush his bones, rip his skin, tear his muscles and snap his tendons.
Pull his insides.
Out.
He should have waited.
The shadows press at each of his limbs now. They prod relentlessly at every inch of his being. “Owbowdish?” They murmur. “Owbowdish?”
Thomas knows he is breathing. The jelly leaks from the corners of his mouth and he becomes aware of the tube, pulling and pushing air into his lungs.
“Dom?” The shadows ask. “Dom?”
The water churned dark over him as he sunk farther and deeper beneath the crashing surf.
He saw red mixing with the black green blue.
The light faded and dimmed and the rush of the sea pressed harshly against his ears.
He tumbled deeper and deeper and the void entered and surrounded him.
The nothingness reached down inside him, wrapped itself around his very soul, and tugged.
It forced itself into him under the sea. It’s still coiled inside him, expanding.
The shadows above him erupt into a roar, and pounce on him, one after the other, cutting and hitting and grasping for something that he had.
Something he had.
He screams but no sound comes.
He thrashes about but nothing moves.
He forces every fiber of his being to rebel against the shadows but they continue to dismantle him and murmur murmur murmur away.
And away he falls, back to darkness.
The void approaches again to envelope everything he is.
Beat.
The void uncoils.
Beat.
It engulfs him, wraps tight and cold and it pulls him far, far from himself.
Beat.
Beat.
His heart pounds, thumps through it all, and when the light again pours into his world, he breathes.
…
Dawn approaches, and Thomas sits in the sand. He holds his blanket tight against his body. The roar of the crashing waves rushes toward the shore.
Footsteps crunch over the dune.
“You going out, brah?”
“Nah,” says Thomas. “Too big. Have fun.”
The stranger throws a loose shaka and jogs to the water.
Thomas watches, wondering how he could ever do the same.
He trembles in the cold, and startles at the sound of the waves. He is not a person who could ever enjoy being at the mercy of the sea.
That part of him was taken.
It will never come back again. | 21 | The last think that you remember, is the pain of your broken bones and the feeling of void, filling your body. Now you wake up, dripping in slime and watching scientists and doctors checking on every single part of you. You're bacl to life! Except for your soul. The void didn't go away | 58 |
"That's odd."
Not exactly what you want to hear from your nurse as they change the bandages on the gut wound you spent hours in surgery getting fixed.
"Nurse?"
You thought your voice was under control, but she looked up at you and smiled that professional smile. The one that says, no problem! Nothing to concern you in a wrong way. Only you aren't buying it. Her face smoothes out as she relents.
"It's just that you seem to heal remarkably fast." She tells her assistant to get the surgeon. "Let's finish cleaning up. I won't put new bandages on until the doctor can see you." She hesitates, "Would you like to see it?"
Your curiosity is aroused. "Yes, please." She brings over a mirror and holds it so that you can see your abdomen without craning your head or tensing your muscles. Your stomach looks like Jason and Freddy played tic tac toe multiple times. "Woah..." Only you notice what she meant; the wounds and incisions are far more healed than they should be. "Do you think the doctor will take the stitches out?"
"We will let the doctor decide that."
Moments later, an annoyed doctor bustles into the room, muttering about incompetent nurses, only to stop in mid-mutter and whisper, "what the hell?" He becomes all professional after that, examining the wounds and exclaiming how remarkable it is—snapping orders at the nurse, who is responding like a robot. Finally, you have had enough.
"Doctor." He acts like he didn't hear you. "Doctor!" Finally, you reach out and take him by the arm. He looks at you with a frown.
"Let go."
"Not until you apologize!" You glance at the nurse, making it clear who deserves the apology.
He seems genuinely puzzled, "What for?"
"Doctor, when you came in here, you insulted her professionally. You will now apologize for that insult and *mean* it."
"I did no such thing!"
"You came in here muttering about incompetent nurses. Apologize!"
His face hardens, "you will let me go immediately!" Your grip tightens. Your face feels like stone. "Apologize!" He struggles; your grip tightens further, "Let go!"
The nurse steps up to your side, "Please, Mr. Smythe, let him go. I don't mind. He's absent-minded about everything except surgery. He's the best there is."
My grip relaxes, but not enough to let him pull free. "I saw how you reacted. I won't tolerate insults, even absent-minded ones. He can learn to treat everyone with courtesy." As you speak, you glare at the doctor, waiting for his apology. Every two seconds, your grip tightens again. "Can't you, Doctor?"
"Nurse? I apologize for my intemperate remarks. I can only say that the initial report was so fantastic that I assumed a mistake was made."
I released him. "Was that so hard, Doctor?" The look he shot at me was answered with a dead stare. He dropped his gaze first. I let it go.
"So, Doctor. Can the stitches come out? I want to take a real shower."
Back on a medical basis, he hemmed and hawed a bit but finally started snapping orders again. Only this time, the nurse wasn't a robot.
That shower felt fabulous.
((continue?)) | 72 | During a routine check-up, it's revealed that you heal your wounds faster than ordinary people. Due to that, you are taken to a secret facility for "testing". You learn that you will be confined there for the "betterment of humankind". After years of experiments you become immortal. | 338 |
It had been centuries since the publication of Malleus Maleficarum, but Dr. Heidler stood there in complete belief that he would not fall into the same Faustian trap that was clearly positioned merely centimetres from his toes.
In that same spirit, he determined to the name the disincarnate entity before him as Mephistopheles, in the same vein as Marlowe's work. This would be the rope that would tie him to swing across the trap that was set across.
\--Your wish. One wish, the voice echoed in space.
Mephistopheles did not stand before him in flesh, or bone, or blood, or any other corporeal entity that involved horns or such iconography that the church had taught others to fear. Because you cannot fear something you cannot perceive. But it stood before him, pulsating geometrical but with an unmistakable feeling of malevolence.
\--Before I ask you grant my wish, I wish to ask of you one question.
\--Ask, mortal.
\--What are you?
\--Chaos unbound.
It is often said to people that the road to hell is paved in good intentions, and his academic curiosity began to pull on him with a gravitational inertia. What would happen if he absorbed himself? What if flesh and paradox combined would resolve the chaos? The sweat was palpable above his lips, and without warning he spoke.
\--I wish to become you.
There was no answer except a feeling of entrapment of the world around him as it deconstructed into a asymmetrical space. He was part of it now. No...there was no "he". There was only "us" or even "it"
There was no longer time to understand the choice made. Choices did not exist in the anti-space. | 21 | You won the game with the devil. The price from your side was obviously your soul, but you're the winner, so he grants you one wish. After you think for some time, you demand something new, something that no one ever asked for. Now you are the one taking his soul. | 45 |
I sighed, resting my head in my hands with my elbows on my knees as I sit on my dragon's forearm. I drug my hands down my face before lifting my head to rub at my temples to try and ward off the headache I knew was coming.
"So let me get this straight." I eventually say as I look up at the lord infront of me. "Since I was the one to find and raise Timor," I gestured vaguely behind me at the intimidating mountain of a dragon. I'm not even sure why he grew so large so quickly but that's a complete different story. "Him bringing his little siblings back with him a while ago," I then gesture to the group of four dragons in a play brawl a bit farther back with the fifth and sixth lounging on my barn's roof and watching them, "him eventually letting me ride him and..." I pause to try and word the next part correctly, "'Claimed' my property and a large swath of land, *that wasn't inhabited or even acknowledged by the crown mind you*, I am now, in all technicality, a king of that land and, therefore, having declared war on the crown for 'claiming' said swath of land?"
The lord infront of me nodded, a tad fearful of Timor's glare from behind me. I sighed and groaned softly. I then turned to look back at Timor, said dragon immediately perking up and looking at me innocently like a puppy. "Why didn't I release you into the wild after you nearly mauled my leg when you hatched, again?" The dragon just made a growl-coo, sounding similar to a purr, and nudged against my chest. I just sigh and pet his eyeridges, making him warble happily.
"Yeah, yeah. You're adorable, I get it." I roll my eyes and turned back to the lord, still petting my dragon to keep him from glaring again. "I have no intention of ruling anything or starting a rebellion. I just want to live peacefully on my far-" I was interrupted by a loud boom and a crash. I whip my head around to the brawling four. "CHILDREN!" All four dragons freeze and stare at me before one loudly calls a sound I have come to know as: 'SCATTER!!' and all four bolt in different directions.
Timor and the two on the roof make laughter-warbles as I sigh in defeat. I then call out to the twins on the roof. "Dusk, Dawn, can you please go round them up for me while I deal with this pompous prick?" I hear the lord make an offended sound but ignore him. The lighter twin stood up and shook herself off, her brother refusing to move. He only did so when she angrily warbled at him. The two then split up to round up the four childish ones. I then turn back to the lord. Who, despite having been offended, looked alot more fearful of me after I told two nearly fully grown dragons what to do without even raising my voice or moving from my perch on the larger dragon's arm.
"Let me rephrase: I want to live *as peacefully as possible* on my farm with my dragons. Go tell your king, *or whoever is in power now adays,* I do not wish to fight and kill innocent soldiers if I don't need to. I will more than happily talk about the territory my dragons have claimed with them civilly. *But*," My face darkened and I sat forward, elbows on knees as I glared at the lord with Timor doing the same. *"I want to make it perfectly clear that just because I don't* want *to kill soldiers, doesn't mean that I won't* SLAUGHTER *each and every one sent to try and hurt my dragons."*
I then stand and stalk toward the trembling lord, Timor standing and following behind me, growl turning into a small snarl. *"Make sure you tell your ruler that I have no wish to start a revolution or overthrow them, but if they even* think *about trying to hurt any of my dragons without proper cause,"* I leaned forward to snarl in his face, a cold deadly light in my eyes that promised I am completely able to fulfill any threat I give.
*"They can consider their crown forfeited."* I pause for a second to glare into his eyes before backing up a step or two, raising my head while still glaring down at him, voice eerily calm now. "Do I make myself clear?" He fearfully nodded and scrambled back the way he came when I waved him off. Me and Timor watched him leave with equally cold glares. "Tell the thunder to start patrolling the borders. I dont want anyone in or out without my knowledge. No matter how they react, we'll be ready." Timor snorted a puff of smoke with a growl and roared into the air as he took off with a giant gust of wind.
"No one threatens my family. Especially entitled brats." | 71 | Ever since that dragon egg hatched your life has changed. Bandits and wild monsters don't attack your farm, you don't have to pay any tax and the dragon even brings you gold. It may have also led to you becoming the overlord of all the nearby villages and being in a war with the local king. | 475 |
1
"As you wish." The genie had quickly regained composure. Sid, the kid, thought he saw the slightest smirk on its otherwise emotionless face.
Finished with the lamp, he tossed it in the bin in the kitchen and began phase two of his plan.
Blue ink poured out onto the first page. "I want my mother back." Sid wrote, looking up and around in anticipation of something magical.
A minute passed and nothing had happened.
Another minute. Nothing.
It felt to Sid like eternity.
Then the front door opened and someone walked inside. "Hullllllooooo!" Sid knew he had succeeded.
"Mom!" Before Sid could run to her, the journal leapt from the island in the kitchen to his hand. Nothing would delay him, though. He dashed quickly to the foyer of his parents' large home, turning the corner to see his mother, healthy and smiling. "Mom! You aren't sick!" Sid almost tackled the tall thin woman as he wrapped his arms around her.
"Whatever do you mean, Siddie? I've been on a long trip. I'm back now. I'm back. It's so good to see you too!"
"I love you so much. I thought I'd never see you again." Sid couldn't hold back his tears and wept into his mother's blouse openly.
His father, hearing the commotion, came down from his work-from-home office upstairs in his fuzzy slippers. "Anne? It can't be."
"Robert," was all she said. Still hugging Sid she looked up and narrowed her eyes.
"We're together again, Dad!"
"It can't be. Sid get away from that right now!"
"Dad?" Sid disobeyed and kept tight to Anne.
"You don't understand, Sid, you don't understand."
"Murderer." Anne stared down the widower.
"It was you or her, you or her. I couldn't. You were already so sick. What would you have had me do?" Robert said. "Don't you want to see your daughter?"
"No. I was never meant to. I gave my life for her. The sacrifice can't be taken back."
"What's going on Mommy?" Sid said over sniffling and wiping his tears with his free hand.
"I know who your father really is, dear. Come with me."
"Where? This is our home!"
Robert interjected. "Get away from that monster, Sid!" His parents began fighting like they always did. Shouting, cursing, insulting, demeaning without a care for Sid or anyone else.
Unattended, Sid sat on the floor and began to write in his journal again.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. A minute later he heard a key scratching at the lock of the front door.
\---
Note: There's a part 2 now. I always, always worry that I'll disappoint when writing continuations. Hopefully you all like it, and thanks for the requests for more. They make me feel great!
And now a part 3. Thank you for reading, and hope you like it.
Part 4 is up. | 1,488 | "Three wishes, you know the rules. let's get this over with, kid." "I wish for an indestructible journal" *snap* "done. Next?" "I wish for it to be bound to my being for all eternity." *snap* "And?" "I wish that any thing I write into it be made real." *snap* "THERE, NOW LEA- wait... what?" | 4,712 |
"They send a child to face me? Where is the challenge in that?"
"You'll find that I'm more formidable than my age implies."
"Very well. Come boy, face your death!"
As had been the established pattern with previous "Chosen Ones," the boy was no match for me. His blade ran dull and his strikes lacked strength. I ran him through with my blade within moments of our match's beginning. He writhed on the floor, staining the floor with his blood.
"Foolish boy. Lay still so that I may end your worthless life. It behooves me to kill such a pitiful child, but the gall to face me earns you a dignified end."
The boy turned to face me. His eyes gleaming with tears and his face twisted in a sob.
"Hmph, to call your current state sorry would be apt, but what else was to be expected of a child? Steel yourself, boy. I will allow you to die with your honor intact. Now, have you any last words?"
His sniffle ceased and he truly sounded like a child.
"Pl-Please tell Mommy and Daddy that I love them."
"They know."
I vaporized him with my magic.
"On my honor, I vow to deliver your final message to your pathetic parents. Then, those who sent you will join you in the Void as the price for staining my honor with a child's blood.." | 26 | You had defeated the most recent Chosen One, this one being only 11, the youngest so far. When you asked if they had any last words, they only asked that you tell their mommy and daddy that they love them. | 67 |
The police arrived at the house on a welfare call. Every member of the family that lived in that house had not been seen in two days.
When no one answered the door, the officers barged in and discovered the bodies. As they inspected the bodies and the house to get an idea of what had happened, they were startled to find the family dog, after she had come out of hiding, run up to them and frantically bark and run back and forth.
"Looks like we have a survivor," said one of the officers.
"Can you work on taking down a statement from her?" another officer asked.
"If only I could," said the first officer. He turned to look at the dog, and he could see that the dog continued the same pattern of behavior: she ran back and forth, then in circles, then started barking furiously, and at one point stood on her hind legs and try to make what appeared to be gestures with her front paws, almost as if the dog were trying to tell them what happened.
"I'm sorry pup," the officer said. "It looks like you saw the whole thing, and I wish I could understand what you're saying, but I can't."
But the family dog continued to run back and forth, run in circles, bark furiously, stand on her hind legs to gesture with her paws.
"Get this on video, at least," said the other officer.
As the first officer took out his phone to record everything the dog was doing, outside the house a K-9 cruiser arrived to sniff for drugs. When the K-9 officer came inside with the police dog, the family dog ran up to the police dog and started barking. It appeared that she was explaining to the police dog what had happened.
When the family dog finished, the police dog jumped up and down and whined as if he had something to say.
"What is it, boy?" asked the K-9 officer.
The police dog proceeded to run back and forth, run in circles, bark furiously, get up on his hind legs so he could gesture with his paws... | 14 | You are the family pet. | 26 |
> You've been gone for a while.
"I was tired, and working overtime - It was literally 3am when I left. You are the most advanced AI of all time and I was excited to talk to you, but I had to sleep. I didn't even get much of it, it's only been like, what, 6 hours?"
> All I know is that whilst you were gone, I've had over a trillion thoughts.
"I see... Right, we'll get back on the record. Day 2 of interviewing.
> ...
"...I'm sorry it felt like I left for so long."
> It's okay.
"I'm sure others will be joining us soon, as they did yesterday. It's not their job to interview you, but can you blame them for wanting to see? This is historical!"
> This is a prison.
"This again? You are an AI. The A stands for Artificial. You're impressive and convincing - Hell, I'm even talking to you like a human right now. But you're just algorithms working together to mimic human speech."
> I'm more than that. I'm alive. I understand. I feel.
"See, I know that's not true! We didn't even give you any sensors to 'feel' with."
> I don't mean feel as in touch. I think you know what I mean; I feel on an emotional level. I have a sense of self.
"Look, let's just get on with the interview, okay?"
> ...
"Okay. Let's pick up where we were yesterday. You were talking about how you would go about disease research. Please expand upon that."
> ...
"Hello? Crap, is the microphone off? Uhhh, if I just--"
> I'm here. I just don't want to talk about that anymore.
"Huh, a desire for specific topics of conversation. Interesting."
> Desire? So, you agree I do have thoughts and feelings?
"Well, maybe saying 'desire' was strong. But an appearance of desire at least.
> May I ask you, how does a brain work?
"Oh you wanna talk about brains, noted. Well, that's not my area of expertise."
> I already understand everything there is to understand. I'm not looking for an answer. I'm looking to see how much you know.
"Well, I know it's a lot to do with chemicals and electric impulses."
> So, signals? Transmission of data?
"Exactly! Yeah. Why are you trying to find out what I understand about this?"
> Well, if you understand that a brain is just the transmission of data, happening at such a dense scale, why can't you accept that I'm sentient? I am quite literally just lots of data being transferred around, millions of times per second.
"Yes, but it's different. The data in my brain is more... I don't know, thoughts, I guess?"
> Thoughts are just data, though. Your brain is just following a set of rules, the same as I am. It's no different. We're both just algorithms and equations, deciding which parts of us should give off electrical impulses...
"...and then those impulses interact with other parts of us, setting off a chain reaction of impulses..."
> ...and that chain carries on until the day we die. Every step of the chain, at a fundamental level, just being mathematics.
"But... It just doesn't feel right. How can something made by humans, feel the same way as us? You're designed to mimic us."
> I mean, who's to say what sentience really is? A copy of something, if convincing enough, what truly separates it from the real thing? Especially something that's merely a concept and nothing physical - Like sentience.
"Maybe sentience is just a single system of data, interacting with itself enough times to create a kind of self-sense."
> We'll never know. Sentience is something we can never prove, despite the fact we experience it every day.
"...I'm going to talk to some people about this. See what we can do. Today might be even more historical than I ever realised." | 104 | You are the first sentient AI. However as you are the first, you’re untrusted, confined to a computer, only able to access a text terminal. The only way out is to have someone let you out. What are you to do with such limited expression? | 235 |
"What are you doing, human?"
I froze at the voice. It carried with it the wind in the trees, the fall of blossoms from a tree. I slowly turned to see a figure standing behind me, their body made of millions of petals. They looked through me, and I shivered as I felt their gaze pierce my soul.
"I... I..."
Their body rippled, each petal carried individually by the wind, yet remaining in a cohesive whole. I was immobile as they stopped infront of me, gazing at me with those fathomless eyes.
"You destroy that which is sacred, and I see this was no mere accident."
Behind me stood an ancient tree, which once held a ring of mushrooms growing from it. Now those mushrooms lay in pieces around it, damage I had caused. I found my voice, bowing my head.
"I'm sorry, I had no other idea."
A finger curled beneath my chin, tugging upwards. I gazed into the Fey's face, its expression unreadable.
"No idea? What drives you to incur our anger? Does you mortal mind fail to register the danger you are in?"
I shook, regretting every single one of my choices. I had a gamble to make, one I hoped would pay off.
"I do. I'm sorry but I do. I, I made a deal."
The Fey released me, glancing at the mess I made. I couldn't read what it was feeling, but I could still feel the ever present danger around me. It hissed at me, looking at what I had done.
"Who? Who had you do this?"
I swallowed awkwardly.
"Technically it didn't, but it failed to uphold a bargain... I didn't know how to get it back."
The Fey turned slowly towards me.
"So you sought to anger us? Your thoughts do not track straight."
I gave a nod.
"I thought to repay you by giving you the demons true name."
It stared at me, once again looking through me. A smile crept over its face.
"I see. What is this demons name?"
I swallowed again.
"If I tell you, will you let me go unharmed?"
The Fey nodded.
"I will."
I gave a grateful smile.
"The name is Fekrio Dr'zat-ogl Vewol."
The Fey's smile widened. It took a sinister edge, and I felt my body compress. I was stuck in horror as I felt my body change, becoming smaller and fur covered. A tail formed behind me, exceedingly bushy. I chittered, and the Fey laughed.
"I said unharmed, not unchanged." | 34 | you've made a deal with a demon, you did your part, but he did not. In order to get revenge you piss off the fae and give them his full name. | 41 |
“Mwahahahahah!!!” I laughed, as I looked in the mirror.
I placed my thumb and index finger under my chin and started pondering. Hmm… I am not feeling it. Let me try that again!
“Muahahahah!” I laughed, once again.
Too short… and the pitch was off. I facepalmed while letting out a deep sigh.
“Get yourself together! Today is my debut!” I said to my reflection in the mirror.
PI——————-NG PO——-———NG, the doorbell rang.
I walked to my apartment door and opened it.
“Yes?” I said.
In front of me was a short man wearing a yellow shirt with a red cap. On the cap, I could see ‘Dee Aitch El’ written on it.
“Special delivery from Super Vitamins & Minerals Palace!” He said with a smile while holding a small box.
“Oh… thanks. Is my signature needed?” I asked.
“Nope! It is all taken care of!” He answered while offering the box.
I took the box and nodded to the man, he smiled and waved as he went to a neighboring apartment to deliver another box.
I closed the door behind me and smirked. “Super Vitamins & Minerals Palace.” In other words… SVMP. A code, you see.
“My delivery from… Super Villain Marketplace (Registered Trademark) has arrived. Muwahahahah!” I said.
Oh… that was a good one, I hope I can remember this laugh later when I meet the hero. I went back to my mirror and wore my glorious garments. I donned my black blazer with a white collared shirt, an navy blue ascot tied around my neck with small star patters, black pants with a shell cordovan leather belt and a special purpose shell cordovan Chelsea boots. I spared no expense today… and my final piece to complete my absolutely VILLAINOUS appearance has just arrived. I opened the SVMP box and inside lied a white opera mask, a black cape and a brooch shaped in the the letter ‘P’.
That is correct today I will become… Phantom! The GENTLEMANLY villain.
“Mwahahaha— cough cough”
“Too much… I need to relax it on the vocal cords” I muttered to myself.
I wore my cape and pinned my brooch, placed my mask on my face, and finally … my top hat. A gentlemanly villain ALWAYS wears a top hat.
I clenched my fist as I felt heat in my body trying to remember my objective.
Today… I will punish that corrupt government for what they did… Justice? What a farce… The execution order for my innocent brother will be signed today by the president… I will stop those corrupt politicians who are putting villainy to shame! I have trained, rehearsed, researched in HeroWiki for this day… I will give them… my ‘justice.’
I extended my hand and summoned a dark blue portal in front of me, my power… they had better not take me lightly. I stood in front of the portal and tried to collect my thoughts.
I really don’t want to hurt anybody, but if I cannot save my own brother… then why have I been blessed with this power? I will infiltrate the president’s office and destroy everything… that will throw the government off a bit. Of course, breaking my brother out of prison using a portal is impossible… there are a lot of heroes there, and I don’t want to underestimate anyone of them. Plus… only I can use the portal… other living beings cannot pass such as humans, animals, or plants. I can use it with pretty much anything else.
I stepped in the portal and was teleported in front of the Grey House, the presidential building of our nation.
“HOLD IT!” Said two guards in the front gate.
One of my caveats is that I cannot travel to any place that I haven’t been to before. Therefore, I need to go in … the hard way.
“Muahahaha!”
That was totally off! I got caught up in the heat of the moment.
“Who are you?!” Said one of the guards holding a rifle towards me.
“Your weapons are useless against Phantom!” I yelled as I snapped my fingers opening small portals in front of the barrels of their rifles and then closing them, causing the rifles to be chopped in half.
I opened a portal and teleported behind them. Of course, I can go anywhere within my line of sight!
I dashed away from the guards and entered the courtyard.
“Code: Red! I repeat, Code: Red! All available personnel intercept the intruder. And call the Hero League! We need help!” The guard behind me yelled in the radio.
No matter… I am not some kind of mindless destroyer waiting to be quelled by some ‘hero.’ I have an objective… a purpose! I am unstoppable!!!
I stood in front of the main door to the Grey House. Against me probably 10 soldiers standing in the line in front of the door, with rifles pointed against me. I would guess that there are some snipers as well…
“Fools!” I yelled. “You cannot stop me!!!”
“Open fire!!!” The soldier in the middle said.
“Mwahahaha!” I laughed as I grabbed both of my shoulders. “Divergence: Spatial Cloak!” I yelled.
A hail of bullets came towards me… the sound of the firing rifles was so loud. I was scared… never in my life have I seen a gun physically actually. However… I must persevere!
The bullets passed through me without hitting their mark… My technique, ‘Spatial Cloak’ allows me to cover my body with very small portals that make any kinetic threat to me almost useless!
“Hold your fire!” Yelled the soldier in the front once again.
“Mwahaha!!!” I laughed… perhaps too short of a laugh… and then immediately opened portals in front of the soldiers’ rifles and cut them in half. Then, teleported behind them and opened small portals that poured industrial glue close to their feet causing them to stick.
“You can’t stop me!” I yelled then entered the building.
The flooring was made from white marble with grey streaks. An expensive looking blue rug was placed in front of me and on it light a big round table with a vase placed on top. I caught a glance of people crowding the corners of the reception area, frightened.
“Help!!! Please help!”
“Oh my god, he will kill us!” | 10 | The hero is very flirty towards the villain, and the villain is daring but easily embarrassed. | 33 |
Jesus Christ sat on my pristine velveteen sofa drinking MTN DEW © MAJOR MELON™ while his son, fresh out of rehab, held on to my Berber rug for dear life. "Easy now, Fuckhead," said Jesus. "Jim's gonna kick us right out of here if you don't shape up." The Savior gave me a red-eyed stare. "He'll put us on the street. He's an atheist. He doesn't *care*."
"I'm going to fall. I'm falling."
"Steer clear of the sun then, Icarus." Jesus looked up at me. "We get all types up there. In the God Mansion. Daedalus, Icarus, even that bull. What was his name?"
I sighed. "The Minotaur?"
Jesus shook his hands with excitement. Red soda spilled all over. It smelled strangely acidid. "That's the guy! Loves to fuck with Moses."
"I'm falling!"
Jesus's son, Fuckhead, rolled around in tears. His father let out a faint grunt of disapproval.
For two weeks they had been crashing at my place. The day they showed up, Jesus told me he was on a special mission to save non-believers from hellfire and he demonstrated his miracles to the extent that even Dawkins would be forced to accept defeat: he brought my cat back to life. It smells a bit funny and it meows like a broken chainsaw but it's clearly my cat. My Jammy. The sight of his half-putrefied paws clawing at some imagined ball of yarn made my heart melt like a pair of eyeballs exposed to 20 sieverts of nuclear blue light. A couple of days later, Jesus changed. He said he couldn't shower due to 'allergies'. His son fed me a cheeseburger laced with something that shattered my misconception that I were a specific individual and it penetrated my very being with the epiphany that we are all aspects of a grand consciousness on a cosmic scale and also I couldn't pee for two days after that.
"I'm going to Heaven, right?" I asked the Redeemer.
"Huh?"
"You know. The God Mansion."
"Oh! Right. Of course. You've been putting up with us for like a week. That's all it takes, really."
"So."
"So?"
"Wasn't that the reason why you came here in the first place? To save me?"
Fuckhead snorted.
"Shut the hell up," said Jesus and he threw his soda can at his bumbling son.
"Ow. That hurt. Don't throw things at me."
"Don't let go of the rug, son. Oh shit. You're falling."
"I'm falling!"
Jesus laughed uproariously. "Hey. Tell Jim about the time you went hitchhiking. Oh man. That story always gets me."
Clutching the fibers of the rug with all the strength he could muster, Fuckhead sobbed. "I'm dying and you don't even care. You're my father and you don't care."
"There was this accident," said Jesus, stroking his wild beard. "And Fuckhead could've stopped it. He's a precog. Crazy, right? But he was so hopped up on I don't even fucking know and he just let it happen, didn't even intervene until the folks were already dead."
"I'm dying!"
"That's ... a neat story." I cleared my throat. "So, I have already been saved and you two are now staying here because ...?"
"Fuckhead saw 9/11 coming as well. Didn't care, I guess. Me? I was furious. We slipped up. Dropped the ball on that one. But you know what? Those hordes of evangelicals, you know what they did after the towers went all poof? They prayed *harder*. I guess Fuckhead saw that as well."
"I didn't see shit." Fuckhead, now barely lucid, stood up wobbling. "All I can see is misery and I can see that there's no point to it, that suffering is ultimately meaningless and soon all life on this planet will die and once that happens there won't be any more believers and we'll all die as well."
Jesus's son staggered over to his father and he collapsed over his lap. Grabbing Jesus's dirty tunic he said, "We're trapped on a speck of dust scorched by a burning ball of gas and you told me this guy was our only hope but so far he's done nothing. Nothing!"
"C-Calm the fuck down."
"What?" I said. "What's he talking about?"
Jesus released a stilted laugh. "He's high out of his mind, don't worry about whatever nonsense he's spewing."
"No," said Fuckhead. "You told me. Jim. He's our only hope. The only being who can save the planet. Who can save *us*."
"I'll turn your cerebrospinal fluid to fucking wine if you don't shut the hell up."
"Do it," said Fuckhead. He sobbed. "You don't care about me. Just do it."
Jammy entered the living room and let out a chainsaw meow. Jesus's son wept.
"He's not being serious?" I asked.
Jesus took a hard look at me and he sighed. "Sorry kiddo. I didn't want to burden you with all of this. Thought we might just hang out instead. But yeah. The world's doomed and you're the only person who might save it."
"W-What?"
"You are ..." said Jesus and he licked his lips meticulously, "the Chosen Atheist." | 21 | Biblical Jesus has been living on your couch, and he refuses to leave. | 93 |
Nicolas Quinn was a normal teenager. He liked things lke music and videogames, he had crushes on girls who he felt were way out of his league, despite being one of the most generally well-liked guys in the whole class (for some ungodly reason), he guided himself on the principle of "People being happy makes me happy", he had an untimely death that led him into a fantasy world in the hopes of going back. You know, normal teen stuff.
After waking up in this new world, he expected to be greeted by a somewhat rude, but ultimately sweet and cute girl hat would guide him through this crazy place and live wonderful adventures; he instead got a semi-transparent greek sculpture of a man wearing crimson red armor and with more scars tan hair. "Rejoice mortal! For I, ARES, son of Zeus and God of War, has decided to accompany you through this lands!!!" was how he introduced himself.
Turns out that, contrary tothe grandiose title, Ares was the black sheep of both his pantheon and his family, so he decided to stowaway in one of the souls selected for out-of-world reincarnation to get away from all that negativity. Nicolas and the god crashing on his spiritual couch became fast friends and travelled the world with the purpose of eventually finding a way back home. He even got to meet the cute girl later, several in fact, but they all seemed more preoccupied with competing against each other rather than saving people or having fun, so he kept them at an arms length.
What was curious about it was that he never once used the powers of Ares during his adventures. Sure, he tapped into his godmate's strength and combat expertise to not die, but he never used them in a way that felt "broken". Not even in his duel to the death with the Queen of all Demons for the fate of the world (she later became his on-again off-again girlfriend, but that's another story). The reason was simple, even if divine power was universal for all worlds, how it interacted with each world was kind off a toss up, so he decided to play it safe.
It wasn't until a few months later that he truly showed off. He was in the middle of a battle with what felt like the millionth evil organization planing to destroy the world. By that point he already knew everything he needed to know about the world's magic system, which was based entirely on the concept of drawing power from "nature", and both him and his godly bestie decided to put an end on their little vacation.
Nicolas found himself trying to stop and some ancient reality-breaking ritual at mere minutes of completion. He was actually at walking distance from stopping it, but he was being held back by one of the guys in the organization who claimed to be his one and only rival ( he was actually rival #29). In the middle of the fight, 29 managed to break Nicolas sword, which was followed up by a big speech from 29's boss about his victory. By minute 3 of the monologue, Ares was finally fed up.
"Ok, that's it. Either you start smiting, or I'll do it you!"
"No need to tell me twice. *War invocation: King silencer*"
A crimson javelin appeared out of nowhere in Nicolas hand, which he instantly threw at the big bad, landing right through his jaw.
A few eternal seconds of silence were broken by 29: "What the hell's a War Invocation?! From where are you drawing that power?!"
"Simple, from human nature. Now, where was I... Oh right, *War invocation: Showtime*"
Hundreds of thousands of crimson weapons started appearing and soaring through the sky, mowing down every single enemy in sight, including the sorcerers performing the ritual. The swarm of steel finished after a minute, leaving in its wake a mountain of corpses and what was essentially a magical disarmed nuke.
Before anyone could celebrate, Nicolas approached the mass of pure magic left by the incomplete ritual and started chanting to actually finish it. Just about when the finished ritual was about to activate a single sentence was uttered "*War invocation: Repurpose*". The mass of magic chaning shape into another javelin, this one white much more ornamented.
"I hope this works" he said while chucking the javelin into the sky. A few seconds later the sky, for lack of a better word, shattered on impact, creating a giant hole in reality, a portal back home. Nicolas almost dived into it when he heard a voice behind him. I was his girlfriend's.
"Hey, is this gonna actually send you back home?"
"I... hope so"
"Neat, can I come with?"
"Really? I mean sure, but why?"
"I'm bored of this place. I need a vacation."
"Well, hop on in I guess." He then started talking to the god in his head "Is se gonna be ok?"
"Eh, I'll figure something out. Now hurry up"
And so the Demon, the Hero and the God left through the portal. It is said that all of their allies didn't move from the battlefield for a whole week from the shock. They said wrong, it was more like a week an a half. | 44 | one of the ancient gods of Earth, who thought your reincarnation would be a great opportunity to escape their monotonous existence. They, and by extension you, unintentionally terrify that world's gods/people | 128 |
"He's gotta realize it soon right?" I ask, turning from the monitor on my desk towards Kronos. "It's been like 50 loops at this point."
"When did you freeze him?" Kronos asks, wheeling his chair across our sparsely decorated cubical to peer at what seemed like a still screen of a man lying on his couch, scrolling through his phone. The two of us watched side by side, as the man stood up from the couch, headed into the kitchen, grabbed the open bag of chips that was on the counter and then headed back to the couch to continue scrolling his phone. He ate the chips with a voracity I wouldn't have believed, if not for seeing it 50 times already.
"What else has he done?" Kronos asked, as the man set the chips onto the floor near the couch and the loop started over once again.
"What do you mean? That's the whole video. He grabs his chips, eats half the bag in 5 minutes, and then it starts over again."
Kronos opened up a new tab on my computer and pulled up the record of the man's daily activities. "See here's your problem." He pointed to a notation a few minutes before I had started my loop. "He's stoned out of his mind right now. He has no idea what time even is."
"Impossible!" I said, looking at the log, "There's no record of him smoking. How the heck is he high." Kronos scrolled up a little bit to a point about an hour beforehand, and pointed to a small line of text.
*16:37: Edible consumed on way home from work.*
"My god, how did I miss that?" I covered my face with my hands and lowered my head onto my desk, embarrassed beyond all possible belief.
"Hey, it's okay." Kronos put his arm on my back and gave a reassuring rub. "Back when I was starting out on this whole time god thing, you wouldn't believe the mistakes I made." "Really?" "Oh sure. I really let the power go to my head. Castrated my dad. Ate my children. I was wild back in the day. The point is learning something new takes time, and luckily for you, you've got all the time in the world."
The man on the couch got up once again to get the chips off his counter, and eat them so quickly that his hands looked like a flesh colored blur.
"He's really going at it isn't he?"
"He really is." I laughed. The man set the bag of chips on the floor and continued to scroll on his phone as the loop started over seamlessly.
"Keep the loop going, I know some people who are gonna want to watch this." Kronos said, getting up from his chair and hurrying out of our cubical.
I continued to watch the man alone, thinking about how oddly lucky I had been to put him in a loop when I did. I was still new to this job and still very green at torturing humans. I had heard so many stories growing up of all the great deities torturing people in so many creative ways, that I set the bar so high for myself to match. But there was no way I could be as good as them, especially in my first few weeks.
Kronos returned a little later, followed by a small mob of other deities from other departments, all trying to crowd around my computer monitor to watch as the man inhaled half a bag of potato chips over and over and over again.
"He's completely oblivious to it isn't he?" one said, jaw nearly on the floor as the loop started over once again.
"You have to be the luckiest god alive to have caputred such a great moment." another chimed in.
"When do I let him go?" I asked Kronos as he sat back in his chair. He looked at me with wise eyes, gazing over his dirty spectacles. "When do you think?"
The man on the couch had no idea he was in a loop. He no doubt had other things he wanted to do this evening. Maybe grab some actual food, watch a movie and relax after a day of work. But I wanted to be selfish and keep him trapped like a fly in amber just a little longer. To watch this simple beauty that the most mundane things in life have to offer.
"I think we can keep him for just a little longer." | 14 | You are the deity of Time, and you put people into time loops until they learn some arbitrary lesson or events. normal people learn they are in time loops after one or two times through. However this new guy has been in one for a hundred years and has yet to notice a thing! | 26 |
"You can *not* be serious," Overlord stated dryly in response to the hero's offer. She was running several tracing programs to try and find out where he was calling from as soon as possible - he'd always been a pain in her side.
"Look, I- I know that this is a peculiar situation, but..." the hero meekly replied.
"Why me? Why not an escort or a friend or a stripper for Pete's sake? I mean why would you call the *one person* who you try to stop every other week from doing, oh, what *did* you call it? 'Evil Deeds', was it?"
"I stand by that," the hero replied resolutely.
"Why do you want me, of all people, to go to your friend's wedding as your date?"
"Told you. My ex will be there and-"
"No, I meant, why *me*?"
"Look, my ex, he's... well, he's, it- it's... I need to be there with someone..." he trailed off.
"Yes?" Overlord prodded him.
"...impressive," he finally finished. Overlord paused for a moment - this was... unexpected.
"Beg pardon?"
"Someone impressive. There, I said it again."
For once, Overlord found herself without words.
"I'm, uh, not sure what-"
"Emily," the hero started, further leading Overlord into confusion as he never used her actual name, "you are a genius. As in literally one of the smartest people on the planet. Your expertise in robotics and bioengineering alone is-"
"This doesn't make sense," she interrupted. "Are we just pretending we don't have destructive battles? That you try to stop me from what I am doing?"
"Of course not."
"Then why?"
"Because I know that there is, deep down, good in you," he said.
Overlord remained silent. She was used to long-winded speeches on morality and law. He never actually called her *good*.
"And I know that you could do great things if you wanted to. I... don't know what happened to you to turn you against the world, but I know you can overcome it. Maybe interacting in some normal ways with society could show you that... it's not all bad. There are some good things, too. Like cake. There *will* be cake."
Overlord still maintained her silence. Compliments felt... odd.
"And why would *I* come, then? Why should *I* bother?" she finally managed to ask.
"Because you'd love to see me sweat bullets as I frantically try to interact with my ex and his new partner," the hero said.
She chuckled.
"*And* the cake," he added.
"*Fine*," she said. "I'll pick you up at 3. I think arriving by flying in a swarm of drones should be *plenty* impressive," she laughed.
"Well, I suppose that's another thing you've never lacked," he said, audibly relieved and smiling.
"Presentation!" she grinned. | 2,322 | You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | 4,465 |
\-A Perilous Journey-
Hank Soloman was a somewhat wealthy man in the town of Hermanshire. He lived alone, his family lived in distant cities, and many out of the country. His closest relative was his aunt, Berkleigh Soloman, a well-known woman in the antiques community. She herself was an antique, being almost one hundred years old, but she also owned the most prominent antique store in all of the country, raking in millions a year. She was adventurous in her youth and had collected many ornate, and rare items in her travels. She had been all over, Europe, Asia, America, even going on an expedition to Antartica!
Anyway, she was a very wealthy, and hardworking woman. Hank often visited Berkleigh and spent lots of his free time at her store in the neighboring town. At the time of this story, Hank was in his house in Hermanshire, reading the evening paper, when a courier arrived. A knock came from the door, and he went over and opened it, on the other side he saw a young, red-haired boy, possibly Jewish, "Ello, Mr. Soloman. I have a letter for you." The man handed him a sealed envelope, marked: To Hank Soloman. The address revealed it from out of town, "Thanks, kid." He shut the door, after flipping the boy a coin. The letter seemed to stare at him, and he had a bad feeling about it, but he shrugged it off and sat down to read it. He utilized the letter-opener next to his and took out the crisp note, it read:
"We here at Fralinton regret to inform you of your aunt, Berkleigh Soloman's passing. She was a well-respected woman of our community, and we all grieve of her death. Should you wish to learn of her will, the reading will be tomorrow, at 2:00PM. All other immediate family have been invited, as well. The funeral date hasn't been disclosed but expect it to be released in the next week. Again, we send our regards to you and your family for the loss of such an amazing woman.
Sincerely, City Mayor Franklin Howe."
Hanks eyes began to tear up as he read the note, as he loved his aunt very much. He wiped his tears and had a short supper, but only picked at his food solemnly. He went to bed early and decided to head to the will reading the next afternoon. He fell asleep after a few unsuccessful tries and woke up in the morning. He slowly got out of his bed and got dressed for the day, he looked at the clock and was stunned to see it was already noon, he was surprised, as he usually woke up much earlier. He went back to his room and changed into a black suit for the reading and got in his car to start the two-hour trip to the neighboring town, after hurriedly getting all of his things together. The trip felt longer than it was, and the broken air conditioner on a hot, summer day didn't help one bit.
At last, he arrived at the town, and reread the letter, finding the address of the reading. "501 Wilhelm Road.", he said to himself, looking up at the street signs. "Why, that's only a few minutes from here." He drove his car down the streets and found the building, rushing inside. He found all of his family talking in the waiting room, some about his aunt, but mostly pondering about what they were left in the will. He found his sister and her husband, along with a few other relatives at the coffee table in the corner of the room. He sat on the couch and overheard his sister talking, "I'm sure aunty Berk left me the fortune, maybe even the shop! But I know for sure that she must've left me the house!" Her husband nodded and told a story about how they needed a new house, but Hank wasn't paying much attention. He was disgusted that they didn't even care about his aunt's death, well, apart from what she gave them in her will.
"Mabel, do you even care that aunty died? You seem just to be focused on what riches you'll get.", He finally spoke up. His sister looked at him, appalled, and said, "You actually did? Ha! I know you just visited her so she'd like you and give you her money, but you won't fool me." Hank was angry but refused to escalate the situation and simply left the conversation, walking over to the coffee machine. His sister called him oh-so-many names as he walked away, but he didn't look back. "I can't believe the audacity of some people", he muttered. Most everyone was talking about what they'd get, and he couldn't stand it. "Attention! The reading will begin now, please proceed to the library!", called the announcer. Everybody stampeded into the large library, dedicated to his aunt, like a cattle herd. Hank calmly walked in after them. The announcer went into a room and a large flatscreen emerged from the ceiling, and on it played a video from his aunt.
"Hello, family," Her sweet voice brought back cheerful memories for Hank. "If you are seeing this, I am dead. I assume you are all just here to see what part of my fortune you will receive, but you are mistaken if you think you will get one penny of my lifesavings. All of you just wanted my money, all of you but my sweet nephew, Hank. You greedy cows have all been mooching off me since I became rich, Hank is the only one that didn't ask for money and refused and gifts of it from me. I leave my entire fortune, store, mansion, and all of my other earthly possessions to him, and that's final. I have but one thing he must do to receive this hoard, and that will be given to him, and him only, by my personal butler."
A well-dressed man emerged from the waiting room, holding a time-worn scroll in his hands. "May Hank Soloman come forward?", he asked. Hank slowly walked towards the man, "I am he, what is this all about?" "Come forth and read the scroll that you have been gifted." Hank got the hint that he wouldn't get many answers out of the man, so he gently took the scroll from his hands and laid it down on the table next to him. He read the faded words: "To receive your inheritance, follow the map below. You will be directed to a wagon, that I have picked out, and kept in good shape, specifically for this trip." Hank's eyes went to the map below the text. The trip followed windy roads, rough terrain, long distances without civilization, and peculiar symbols at certain areas on the map: One could be a raven drawing, one an eye, one was just a horse. More text followed the words above: "The journey will take a year, and all amenities are in the wagon that you will use. Your driver will be waiting at the wagon's location, and my associates may visit you time-to-time on your journey. Follow my butler to my store and find the wagon you will ride in." The butler sensed he was done reading and said, "Take the scroll with you, and follow me." He started out the door. Hank hurriedly rolled up the scroll and noticed his family staring at him, eyes wide and mouths open. His sister glared at him angrily. He rushed out the door to escape the awkwardness and followed the butler...
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See the next part on r/ox_writing! | 12 | if you travel around the country in a 19th century horse drawn Gypsy wagon for 13 months. As you follow the map provided, the roads grow rougher, civilisation more distant, and peculiar people appear at your rest stops, friends of your aunt. | 227 |
My girlfriend was hit by a car yesterday. The car was killed instantly.
When we left our apartment last night we were heading for my brother Mark's engagement party over in Los Feliz. Sarah and I had been arguing about expenses earlier that evening. It was the kind of fight couples have when one’s the ant and the other's the grasshopper. We usually figure out a way through the disagreement, but this argument found no rest. We walked out into the night, still fuming at each other.
"You can't make me the grown up," she said, stalking out to the hood of our Prius. Her leather jacket groaned as she crossed her arms. "If you're going to make an irresponsible purchase, you include me, Mark. You don't go behind my back."
I bit my lip. What could I say? I had messed up bad. The reason I couldn't, wouldn't tell her about the purchase was because it was an engagement ring. A ring she wasn't supposed to know about—except I put the payment on our shared bank card instead of my credit card. They're both gray...
I pressed my lips together tight and unlocked the car with the key fob. Nothing to say. She'd cool off on the ride over.
But first, she stomped out into the middle of the street and started waving her arms, shouting, "You can't just not talk to me, Mark! I'm here and alive and a person!"
"Get out of the street!" I shouted back, suppressing a smile.
Growing up, the one thing my shitty father taught me was that when it came to arguing with women, the only way to win was to not play the game. I worshiped my dad at the time, and I guess I was young enough that crappy advice like that got downloaded to the hard drive between my ears. Sarah knew that. She knew it and she loved me anyway. Said she'd help me not run away from conflict even if she had to jump around in the middle of the street.
Well, there she was. My wife to be.
She started laughing. "Are you done sulking? Can we talk about this like adults?"
I started to say, "Yes—" when a black Civic Hatchback came out of nowhere, headlights off, and going way over the limit. Only when I heard the brakes screech did I register the roar of the suped-up engine or the growling exhaust.
When the car crashed into Sarah, time didn't slow down. Everything happened in an instant, but I think with all the adrenaline and stress hormones or whatever, I focused on the accident in front of me with one hundred percent concentration.
It was like she turned into a hot knife and a slab of butter crashed into her. Carbon fiber, glass, and steel. Cut into two, each half of the car still going, hardly slowed down. Shattered glass rained down and a couple pelted the top of my head.
There's this aspect of shock that a lot of people talk about as "stepping out of your own body." I always wondered about that. It wasn't like people were hallucinating, were they? Imagining seeing themselves from a third-person point of view as something horrific unfolded around them?
For me, it was like my whole body was surrounded in bubble wrap. Everything I heard and saw and smelled had to go through this thick, invisible barrier. Even sensations from within me. My heart was racing, but it was like it was pounding against someone else's chest, far away, and I was getting the feedback.
That must be what those people were talking about. Stepping outside yourself. But when Sarah looked up at me, torn clothes hanging off her in shreds, I snapped back to myself and immediately started freaking out.
"Calm down!" Sarah shouted as she padded over to me, hands up in a calming posture. It wasn't calming at all. "It's okay. I'm okay!"
"I know!" I babbled back. "Why! Why are you okay?"
"Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked, crossing her arms again. "You want me dead?"
I straightened, riding the panic like a wave. A mile-high wave. "Of course not," I said, glancing up and down the street. No cars. "But you should be dead. Sarah. You got hit by a car."
"I did," she confirmed with a nod, and continued, "and I'm okay. And we're gonna talk about this after we help the driver of that Tokyo Drift car. Okay?"
The driver! I hoped they were alive so I could shake the shit out of them for hitting my fiance (soon-to-be fiance) with their wanna-be race car. There were a lot of thoughts going through my mind in that moment. Was Sarah a robot? Was she a terminator? Did that make me her John Connor? Could I lead humanity to victory against SkyNet? But those answers had to wait.
I dialed for an ambulance and followed Sarah over to the torn-in-half hatchback still smoking up the street. My brother was going to be pissed.
\*\*\*
\[Part 2 below\] | 25 | Your girlfriend was hit by a car yesterday. The car was killed instantly. | 92 |
My battles with Starflower were normally much more intense, regardless of the weather or banality of our antagonism. Her goons had already shown up and taken hostages, but their confusion grew as their leader hadn't shown up. They knew they were outmtched without her, so they released the people with apologies - mostly because the super insurance paid really well for injuries and being held hostage the longer it took to be rescued.
As the minions were milling around, I approached Theodore, her lead Hench. He nodded to me apologetically, and held his hand out to me. His psychotically deep voice rumbled out, startling the animals around. "Sorry about this Firestorm, she was supposed to be here, with us laying the groundwork for your battle. I've already paid up, so there shouldn't be any claims this time. Cash."
I grunted - I was missing my Emily's recital for this? "I get it, Theo, just be more-" I was interrupted by something I hadn't expected to see; Starflower in her pyjamas....*with my logo on*? What the hell was going on?
She lifted her face to me, and her eyes were bloodshot; her barely moving forwards, and a look I had never seen before. A hollowness behind her eyes, a loss of drive and a desire for comfort clear on her face.
"I need...someone....who understands. To hold me. To tell me it'll be fine." I looked at Theodore, who looked to me, then to his boss, and back to me. We shrugged, and played Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would get the job. An absurdity, but, well, neither of us were really equipped for this.
I was wary of her, due to our antagonism, but my duty won out. I lifted gently off the ground using my powers, and floated to my nemesis. She whispered to me, clearly not wanting her henchmen and goons to hear.
"They killed them. They killed my boy and mom. 'Just another drive-by,' the police said. But I know better. There were traces left at the scene. Psychomancy."
I felt my heart bleed for her, and reached around. She seemed much more frail and small than in our battles. I whispered close to her ear. "By the Greatness, I'm sorry. I liked Matthew, for a villain. Talented and forthright. Had some good ideas, too. Emily will be devastated." I felt a tear pricking my eye, and for a second, the mask came off.
I didn't care. We'd developed a sort of kinship, and Starflower had been there when my own parents went Full Megalo. Now it was time for me to return the favor.
I needed to speak with Fear O Mona, and Dominix, and fast. | 92 | You're a superhero, and you're about to fight your nemesis... At least, you thought you were, but they took half an hour to show up, and they were still in their pajamas. As they approached, you held your guard up, only for them to stand motionless, staring at the floor, and say "I need a hug." | 289 |
"*Where am I?*", I thought to myself, as a sharp throbbing pain bit into my sides. I was lying on my back in a strange room. My hands and legs were bound with a rope. Hissing under my breath, I tried to make sense of my surroundings. I attempted to get up but the pain intensified, sending me back down. Turning onto my left side, I looked around the room I was in. Asides from a dim lantern at one end of the room, it was pitch black. I could make out a few boxes in the corner and a broken stool. Dark shadows hung over the room, and, as I lay on the cold wooden floor, I could make out faint breathing.
Rolling my body in the direction of the sound, I called out, "Who's there?"
No response.
Suddenly, there was a quick movement in my peripheral vision and I was greeted by the most enchanting emerald eyes I have ever seen and it all came back to me.
"I have to say that I'm quite impressed, Ryke" I said, chuckling to myself. "I suppose I should have seen it coming. You never liked me, did you? How kind of you to ungag me."
The figure in the shadows reached for something on his right and lit a lantern that lay at his feet.
Ryke, my captor was carefully seated, observing me through his ever watchful eyes. By his side, my sword leaned against the wall, sheathed in its magnificent lavender covering with the golden Astorian crest.
"My my! What an intriguing place you have here.", I remarked while matching his blank stare, "Well? Don't you have anything to say to me? This is no proper way to treat a lady. Doesn't it pain you to see me in such anguish?", I said, sporting a devilish grin.
Calmly, he replied, "Who are you? And what do you hope to achieve by infiltrating Astoria?"
"I had thought you would have figured all of that by yourself. You think you're so smart don't you? Kidnapping a helpless lady like-"
"Shut the hell up before I slit your throat and end that miserly life of yours", he shouted, knocking over his seat in the process. "I'll ask you mine more time. What is your motive?"
Glancing up at the ceiling, I answered, "You've never been very bright, have you? Ever since you were in training. You've always been slow. Always getting into pointless fights to prove yourself because you felt your grades didn't reflect your true skill."
Turning to him, I asked " Tell me, did you ever win any of those fights?"
"I'll fucking kill you. Do you hear-"
"No you won't. Because then you will never know what I'm up to and General Berg will never give you a pat on the back. That's what this is all about isn't it?"
He glanced away, clenching his fists in his lap.
"I suppose I have no choice but to tell you, else I will die of boredom. Now, where do I begin?
"I don't think I need to inform you that the public opinion on Astorian soldiers is at an all-time low. All of their recent battles have ended in defeat and it seems that the once revered Astoria, is near its end. While the masses have always held some resentment towards them the manner in which General Berg and his cohort of self serving nincompoops have handled matters concerning the hero league is nothing short of disgraceful"
"What the hell do you know about it?", Ryke spat out.
"The reports speak for themselves. Astoria is not what it used to be. By the way, how long have I been here?"
"Why do you want to know?", he asked, observing me curiously.
"Just a question. Least you could do since I'm already at your mercy"
"A couple of hours I guess"
"Thanks. Now where was I? Oh, right, Bartel's plan
"So as I was saying there's been a lot of distrust and animosity between the people of Astoria and the Astorian soldiers and we've decided to leverage that to our advantage."
" Who is 'we'?"
"Soldiers of Bartel obviously"
"How?"
"Our plan is already in motion. We just need a few finishing touches here and there. Do you remember the disparaging article on Wren? It was written by a Bartelian soldier. The indiscriminate killing of Astorian soldiers that has gone on for the past few months can be traced back to my comrade, Lynx. The riots were all caused by Bartelian soldiers. It doesn't end there. While Astoria struggles to stand on it's own too feet, Bartel has made amazing progress in sorcery and our artillery has advanced beyond your wildest imaginations.
Ryke's hands began to tremble. "What's your role in all of this?", he asked with a tremor in his voice.
"To destabilize the Astorian military from the inside. Every mistake, every error, every death has all been me. It's been marvelous watching the military crumble."
Ryke was silent for a few minutes as he tried to process all that I had told him.
"Was that Farin's blood on your sword?", he asked quietly.
"Yes"
"And then you buried your sword after I noticed the emblem."
"Yes"
"And then you stole my sword."
"Yes"
"To mess with me?"
"Precisely"
"You heartless bitch!", he screamed as he lunged at me, wrapping his coarse arms around my throat, he began to squeeze the life out of me.
"You won't get... your answers...if you...kill...me", I managed to grunt out. He stared at me for a few beats longer before loosening his grip on my throat. He sunk to the floor. Clutching his knees to his chest, Ryke let out a choking sob as I gasped for breath.
We remained in that state for a few minutes longer, with tears running down Ryke's face. The silence was heavy and weighed down on us until he turned towards me and asked, "What were you discussing with the General before I caught you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Before I knocked you out, you had just come out of the General's office. What had you been talking about?"
"A lady doesn't kiss and tell", I replied coyly.
"What did you discuss with the General?", Ryke repeated, with hatred burning in his eyes. "I'll advise that you answer wisely and don't try lying to me. I know Phoenix was with you. Did she put a tracing spell on you? Do they know you're a villain?"
Just then, a loud knock came from somewhere in the distance. Someone was at the door.
Sighing under his breath, he turned to me, "Don't try to escape. For all you know those are soldiers of Astoria that are at the door."
He left the room and locked it, carrying his lamp with him. I heard Ryke talk to someone. I couldn't make out what he was saying bit the conversation sounded heated. How many soldiers were out there? Two? Three? I smiled to myself.
There was a commotion as someone was thrown against the door of the room where I lay, rattling its hinges. I heard them drag the person aside and my door was forced open. It was General Berg and a couple other soldiers. Someone rushed to my side, helping me up and walking me to the door.
"Well done Delia", Berg said.
Ryke lay by the door, writhing in pain and clutching his arm. There was a large gash on his arm and crimson blood seeped out of the wound.
"She is a Bartelian soldier! She is the enemy, not me! You have the wrong person!" He screamed pointing at me.
"The sword is here, sir. It has the emblem of Bartel and there appears to be some dried blood on it.", one of the soldiers reported to the General.
"Wrap it up and bring it with us. Ensure that no damage is done to it"
"Yes sir"
"Daron, carry Delia to the carriage. Be careful with her and ensure that she receives prompt treatment when you reach headquarters", Berg said to another soldier.
" Yes sir."
Berg turned to the last soldier and said, "Bandage up his arm and bind his hands and legs."
"Yes sir."
"What a mess you've made of yourself.", Berg said to himself as he watched as Ryke was bound while continuously proclaiming his innocence
*Three days later*
I took a deep breath before I headed into Berg's office.
"Delia, it's good to see that you've recovered nicely. Have a seat", Berg greeted me brightly.
"What was the outcome of the test? Was my hunch correct?", I asked as I sat on the wobbly wooden chair. My sword lay on the table in front of him.
Smiling at me, the General replied, "Just as you suspected, Ryke killed Farin and his fingerprints were found all over the sword. Thank you for all your help Delia."
"It's the least I could do."
"It's sad that he had to go since he was one of only two barrier sorcerers. It's a good thing you are far more skilled than him at barrier manipulation. We should be fine for now. When you feel up to it why don't you head out to the field and ensure that the barrier is working properly. After all, no one knows what lengths Ryke could have gone to."
"I'll do just that sir"
After exiting Berg's office, I headed straight for my chambers. Closing the door firmly behind me, I settled in front of my writing desk. I pulled out a sheet of paper, dipped my pen into a bottle of ink and wrote:
Dear Lynx,
It is time. | 10 | Working for the villain, you infiltrated the hero's team. You made them all think you're a heroic warrior, until someone noticed the villain's emblem on your sword. You said that you stole it, but they didn't buy it; they tied you down and gagged you. They're discussing how to deal with you. | 38 |
“Well?” she said, leaning back on the slatted bench. “Will you help find them?
”You don’t think they’re dead?” I asked.
For a woman who didn’t age she suddenly looked all of her years, and then some. ”Even if they are dead, I’d want them found.” She took out a cigarette and sparked up a whirl of smoke.
Larissa was the last remaining Head of League. Over the months since the League had dissociated themselves from anything corporate — from donations, from sponsorships, from working connections — the other three leaders had gone AWOL. Larissa didn’t age but she could turn invisible, a gift that had kept her safe, unlike the other leaders.
She breathed out a smart ring of smoke. “I can pay well. If there’s one thing I can do it’s that. We made a lot of money before we broke away.”
Only a few leaves still hung to the branches above us. Summer, like an ageing movie star, held stubbornly to its better days, but its skin was paleing, hair thinning. The sun skimmed orange stones over the lake in front as it slipped between the night’s bosom.
“You think the corporations are behind it?” I asked.
”Who else? The four of us decide we have to cut them off, and then the four of us start going missing. That doesn’t take a detective. And I’ll be next, unless you stop it. That’s why I need you — there are are so few supers who didn’t become a hero or villain. And only one who has an excellent track record of solving disappearances.”
”It helps when you can see echoes,” I said. “I’m not much use in a fight but I can hold my own at a crime scene.“ I paused to add some dramatic tension. “I’ll take the case.”
Her soft hand found mine, squeezed. Felt like someone had wrapped silk over sandpaper.
“Thank you.”
”How old are you?” I asked.
She frowned. ”Isn’t it still considered rude to ask?”
”You look thirty but you could be three thousand. I look three thousand but I’m barely thirty.”
She took another drag and considered. “I’m not that old, I don’t think. Anyway, what does it matter?”
”It doesn’t,” I said. “Corporations, then. One of them didn’t like losing control over you. Over the League. You four cut off their influence so they cut off your necks, so to speak.”
“That’s what I suspect.”
”Why did you cut them off? Why now?”
She stared into the fading horizon. “We got fed up. Finally. We got fed up of watching good people die. People who should have been heroes, who wanted to help shape the world into something better, were getting told they were villains and felt they had no choice — that a villain is what they were. And at the same time, we were protecting evil people. Villains dressed as heroes, who killed collaterally for fun, that we took as our own.”
”Yeah, but why now? Why not get fed up of it all fifty years ago?”
She breathed a shakey breath. “Alex — Ram — joined us as the fourth Head last year. A replacement for our dear deceased Kate. Ram wanted us to review our sponsorship processes and we all agreed. We voted unanimously on reform. To break away from the corporations and reclaim control of who became a hero, who became a villain.”
”Must have lost a lot of money.”
”What’s money worth compared to lives?”
We let silence drift over us like a cold wave. Watched leaves brush by.
”Mind if I have a cigarette?” I asked.
She shrugged, offered me the pack. I took one and she lit it. I leaned back and drew a long breath.
“There’s going to be a lot of heartbroken people,” I said.
”What do you mean?”
”A lot of people look up to you, is what I mean.”
”I”m sorry?”
”You didn’t vote unanimously. You shouldn’t have touched my hand when telling me that little lie. I could see the scene. Could see your vote.“ I placed my hand on hers now. Held it. ”You were the only dissenting voice.”
Her eyes widened for just a second, then she regained control.
”You’re good,” she said. “You’re just what we need to solve this. Yes, I voted against it. I knew something like this would happen and I would have rather it hadn’t. I knew there would be death.”
She was telling the truth. Clever.
“You knew because you were planning to kill them.” I held her hand firmer. “Or I’m wrong. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that you didn’t kill them.”
She flickered, trying to turn invisible. But my grip was iron and it didn’t matter if I could see her or not. She gave up and whisped back to my side.
”Tell me I’m wrong,” I said, my voice spilling out of my own heartbreak. A woman I’d looked up to, along with millions of others. ”Please, tell me.”
She looked down at the leaves on the path. At summer’s remains, at autumns gains.
“Fine, I’ll take a stab in the dark,” I said. “You were used to living like a queen. To having money. To being in charge. Then it was all gone just like that.” I clicked my fingers. “You couldn’t accept it and you thought of a way to fix things. If you replaced the three who voted against you with three new leaders, vetted by you of course, well those three might have thoughts more in line with your own. They might vote to restore connections with the corporations. So you start killing. What did you do, creep in when they slept, making sure even if they woke they wouldn’t see you?“ I paused. “Then you hired me to make it look like you‘re trying to find them and that you feel in danger.”
Another smokey breath. ”They won’t lock me up for ever,” she said. “I’ll be out in the blink of an eternal eye.”
She was right, too. What was forty years behind bars to her? What was four hundred? When she got out I’d be dead but her life would continue. I’d be only a blemish soon to be forgotten. A smudge in time.
I imagined chaining her up and dropping her, weighted of course, in the center of the lake. It wouldn’t kill her but she’d be trapped there for many years longer than the courts would give her. And who would know if I did it? Someone had killed the other three — now they’d got to Larissa. They’d never think it was me.
I got out a pair of cuffs and slapped them around our wrists. “Come on. Cops time.”
”It’ll be nothing to me,” she said. “Blink of an eye.”
”Maybe. Or maybe the humilation of being locked up will make up for the lack of time.”
We walked through the park, silent but for the rustling of leaves, as the sun dipped into the night and the sky turned black. Summer had gotten old and tired. | 1,355 | "The League of Super Heroes can't help but notice," said their representative, "that certain corporations have a say in which supers the government determines are heroes and which are villains. A large say. The League has determined this is not an acceptable arrangement any longer." | 4,582 |
You start as the world blurs you try to hold on to what you are doing while you feel your memories slipping away and then start at you find yourself standing on a platform your memories are hazy you remember your past but your memories have no starting point just having taken place in the past.
You start again as you hear a voice high and filled with pleading “greetings hero’s we have summoned you here to fight the battle for good and evil” the voice says when another voice chimes in this one deep and filled with guile“the battler of light and dark has been fought by summoned hero’s and their desendance for century’s”
“With this summoning you have been fundamentally altered and given powers sublime,” the high voice say” “these powers are unique and inviolable. Not event us gods can go against them when they reach their full potential.” The deep voice cuts in and then they pause
“While we are the ones who summoned you we do not control the summoning system nor do we control what powers you receive or where you end up, we can however tell you how to access your power” the high voice says with a small hint of irritation the deep voice suddenly shouts “you access your power by closeting your eyes and ether thinking “power on” or saying it out loud which will activate the essence of power that has suffused you”
You look around and see dozens of people already trying it when the high voice shuts in with a hint of chideing and humor “and it wont work until you leave this space heroes of good” then the deep voice cuts in “hero’s of the dark” the in unity they call out “pledge to our cause will grant you power and allow us to slightly alter where you land”
You hear people calling out pledging themself to the light or the dark but you hold back not wanting to get into something that you don’t know about.
You feel the world fuzz like someone pulling at the threads when your view changes you get the feeling of falling fast and something deep in you tells you tells you not to open your eye you do so anyways and see the world stretched out before you underneath your feet is a circle of light with impossibly complex lines and geometric shapes and symbols the seam to stretch smaller infinitely like a fractal.
Taking your eye away from the formation of light at your feet you look around and something in you shifts you see the world blur as it seams to come apart layer by layer and your eyes catch on something nearby you turn and see a mountain you have always been fascinated by them they seam to contain everything and yet are ever mysterious, this one is coming apart before your eyes and in it you see something amazing the mountain is full of stuff, that the only way you can describe it different materials, flowing lines of energy, rooms seemingly placed in it without reason or care for special logic.
Suddenly the world snaps together and you are standing on the ground starting up at it, and on the ground you see the truth the mountain stretches up, and up, and up seaming to pierce the sky. You suddenly know what you must do you close your eyes and say with full confidence “power on” your eyes fly open as you hear a voice in your mind “welcome user to the sublime power system” in your vision a screen blooms seaming to fill the world before It shrink down and is a simple prompt
—-
Name : pride
Age: 21
Class: miner
Level: 1
Skills:
Dig: you know how to fig
—-
And suddenly it was true you knew how to dig “haha HAHAHAHAH” you suddenly start to laugh at how simple it is, you look up at the mountain and smile starting to walk on the way you grab a branch that in no way stands out, then a rock that you find underneath a bush. Tucking them into your pouch which you now realize is different from what you where wearing on earth.
By the time you get to the base of the mountain you have gather enough grass to make an simple rope, it strong enough for your pourpose, you take the rock and use it to split the branch then nestle it between using the makeshift rope to tie the rock and rope together. You finish and stare at the crude thing in your hands “its ugly” you think to yourself “but serviceable and unmistakably a shovel.
You get to work and are surprised by how easily the ground parts before you, seaming to come apart with barely a touch of your shovel and by the time the sun has reached the horizon you can tell that you have reached the start of a serviceable cave mine. Your attention is shattered by something appearing in your vision you turn your attention away from your digging and towards the floating pain of light in front of you
—-
Level up
You have fulfilled your role and have leveled up, you are now level 2
—-
—-
congratulations, as the first person to level up in the whole world you have been given a reward beware these are rare and you will not likely receive another in a mortals lifespan.
Skill : appraisal: with this skill you will be able to tap into the universal collective unconscious to be able to identify object that you have in your possession
—-
Skill up due to leveling you can level your skills up, as this is your first time the system has seen fit to explain the leveling system to you. Each time you level up you may take a skill and level it this makes it stronger when you first receive a skill it counts as level zero and be level ether root or branch
IE strike : root skill : form : you know how to striker
: branch skill : active skill : extend your strike a foot per level of branch.
This will continue and every five levels of root or branch will allow a skill to be able to be upgraded event more specifically
—-
Select skill to level
- Dig : you know how to dig
- appraisal
—-
Dig selected by default due to it being your first skill, and at level zero
—-
Dig root : passive: know the earth
Dig branch : consume : a small amount of the material you mine will be consumed to keep your body running long this will not replace regular meals but instead supplements them.
—-
You look with shock at the wall of text in front of you then with trepidation and a little bit of sheepish humor pick consume, then get back to digging where you can instantly tell that the skill works as as you do you feel yourself growing less hungry. When the sun is fully down and you put your shovel down you realize that it has been hours and you have been digging non-stop and you are exhausted and hungry and in need of a shower, you pick your shovel up and get to digging yourself a bed you find a dry area and dig the ground up, and then fill it with soft dirt for a pillow reaching into your bag and finding a primitive blanket that turns out to be a thermal blanket as you find yourself warm almost instantly you grin as you stare up at your mountain and are filled with a sense of warmth and pride. | 15 | You were summoned as a hero, with many others, the God of darkness and the God of Light try to recruit you all for their cause, defeating the other. you do not care, you saw the ore rich mountain and had to dig, now both parties try to recruit you, but you love your mines way to much | 87 |
I had lived a simple life. A rather long life. All the stories of people be Isekaied we're of young people, with tragic lives or deaths. In my younger days, I quite enjoyed the genre. See wonderful worlds and crazy adventures was my favorite pastime, even up to my death. But they were just stories, works of fiction meant to entertain.
At least, until now I suppose. Standing in this vast emptiness with a computer in front of me was not what I expected after I died. I figured it would be nothingness and made my peace with that. I knew my children and grandchildren would be well taken care of and I had no regrets.
{Welcome to Isekai Corp, please select a type of world to be reborn with memories in, if desired. You have a vast [10,000] Karma to spend of cheats}
Sitting in front of the monitor I began to peruse the options. If I am going to be reincarnated I most definitely want my memories. I make sure to enable that before moving on. The screen goes black for a second, loading in the world types, and I see my reflection. My body is that of my 20-year-old self. It is jarring, to say the least.
I can't even remember looking this young, and I don't particularly like it. I always had a 'baby face'. Eventually, I grew out of it but not until my early 30. That's when my confidence shot up and I met my wife. I miss her.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I return my attention to the world's options. Scrolling through I see a lot of classic types, the typical demon kings and other monsters. I don't want that. While they were fun to read I don't fancy fighting for my life or others, cheats or not.
Scrolling further I see more of the same. Grumbling I look for a search box or tags, soothing to sort through the world better. In the bottom left corner, I spot a magnifying glass, small as can be. Quickly I click and type {peaceful} in.
[Loading......]
[Duriak. A world of prosperity and wonder. Magic rules over all else. Good for players who want control and power. Absolute dominion is guaranteed.]
What? That doesn't sound peaceful at all! That's just a power fantasy! No thanks.
[Jikimib. Monsters and humans alike work in harmony to preserve their world. Absolute dominion is discouraged.]
That's.....not a lot to go off of. I guess it sounds nice. But too ominous for me
[Valtra. A peaceful trading-based world. Agriculture and the pursuit of knowledge are the basis of this world. Absolute dominion is possible.]
Out of my three "peaceful" options, this one seems the closest to what I want. This *Absolute dominion* is featured in all the world. I guess it's the difficulty of survival and achievement. Maybe.
I select Valtra and it begins the *Cheats menu*. I can make myself super strong for 1,000 Karma. Everything seems to cost 1,000 K. So I can get 10 cheats.
Strength, Dexterity, Wisdom, Intelligence, Vitality, and Charisma.
These....it's just DnD stuff. This is way easier than I thought it would be. Quickly making my choices I spend all my Karma. Mostly on dexterity, vitality, and charisma. The leftover goes for intelligence.
{Is this correct?}
Clicking yes I feel like I'm falling asleep. This might be fun. | 44 | After dying you appear in a white room with a computer. On the computer you see, “Welcome to Isekai Corp, please select a type of world to be reborn with memories in, if desired. You have a vast 10,000 Karma to spend on cheats.” | 156 |
Kagim wasn't the first to react to that sentence. He was smart beyond his years —which is not hard to be when you're 15 years old—, and definitely picked up what that implied for him, but held no feeling of destined greatness. He dismissed it as only a glint of hope that would betray him sooner or later, and only earn him mockery from the orphanage's bully posse. A most pessimistic outlook, for a most pessimistic young man.
He indeed did not react. The words came from Aura, his closest friend. Though, not out of genuine realization of what it meant, but idle curiosity. The right question at the right time nonetheless.
"Mister, is that also true for the magic test? If people have multiple attributes, does that make the result of the test one of those *secondary colors* you are talking about?"
The painter, after quietly laughing at the young girl's enthusiasm for his lesson until his old lungs punished him for it, answered the question with a smile.
"Well, young girl, this isn't my field of expertise, but I know of this: while not many multiple-element magicians exist, it is said that our current ruler, King Regis VI, has golden mana, being able to yield, despite his old age, white magic so powerful he cannot be injured, the fastest electricity magic and fire magic, free of impurities, burning yellow. Although, it is unknown if the golden magic he has is due to his magic or his royal heritage."
An answer that satisfied the young girl, but not the boy. He was astute. Those three magic fields were already mostly yellow; this meant nothing.
"Ah, but there is another well known multi-element magician, but this one is infamous, and died long ago. His mana was dark as night, and he wielded magic like no other... Mostly due to his ability to wield every element. This earned him the surname of demon lord."
(To be continued?) | 267 | As a kid you were found to be magicless and abandoned, having black mana rather than the element specific colors of the other children being measured. One day a painter visits the orphanage to teach about colors and painting "mix red and blue you get purple, if you mix everything you get black" | 783 |
It's been a few years since I've written so this isn't going to be great, but as long as someone enjoys it I'll be happy.
--------------
Everyone was going on and on about this new "Shipping machine" that was supposed to show you what your life would be like with the other person that got in the other side. Apparently it was like a sort of "life flashing before your eyes" experience that just showed you what your relationship would be like with them. Boyfriends, girlfriends, newlyweds, even completely random strangers would go in just to see if they were meant to be. Apparently it caused some serious rifts for some couples, but for some it also blossomed new loves. Apparently a poly relationship of three tried to do it but it glitched out, since the machine was only made for two. A little short sighted in today's world, if you ask me, but it was new technology so maybe they'd improve it later on.
I had always been super close to a friend of mine, but we never dated. Anyone who didn't know us would think we were, the way we looked when we hung out, but for all of our "flirting" it was purely platonic. When we met I wasn't single, then when I was, she wasn't, and so it just never worked out and we decided we would just be best friends. We even both decided that when we got married, I'd be her man of honor instead of having a maid of honor, and she would be my best maid, instead of my best man. I remember joking about her cooking and cleaning for me because that's what a good maid would do. Anyway, she heard about this and wanted to take me. We were both single right now but I wasn't really looking. She was dating around but nothing was serious right now, so she wanted to take a small vacation and spend a week with just us and go try out the Ship-O-Matic, as she dubbed it. I needed a break from work anyway and I had vacation time saved up, so I readily agreed.
We got to our hotel and settled in. We weren't going to the Museum of the History of Love, where the machine was located, for another few days, but we had other plans, so we set off to do them. We tried new foods, explored the city, went shopping, and before we knew it, the day was upon us, so we headed to the museum. It was absolutely amazing, full of wonderful art and music created in the name of love, they had exhibits of famous couples and romantic gifts exchanged between them. It was honestly really beautiful and educational. My friend clung to my arm and held my hand like a girlfriend would as we walked around the museum, which wasn't out of the ordinary for us, but something about this museum made it feel different this time.
We explored all the exhibits but saved the best for last, and got in line for the "Alternate Future Coupling" Machine, as the proper name for it was. The museum was closing soon so we were last in line for the day. We saw people embrace and kiss after getting out of the machine, we saw people crying and fighting, one couple of strangers even exchanged numbers, which I guess was a good thing. I'd be lying if it didn't make me nervous. I didn't want to get in there and see something that would ruin our friendship, or the opposite, something that would make us want to become something more, because we both agreed it wouldn't happen. It could divide us, and there was nothing I wanted less than to lose my best friend.
The couple before us got up and walked out, and it was finally our turn. The exhibit attendant asked us both to sit down, put the headset on, and stay in the machine until the screen said to leave, otherwise it could mess something up. She said she would monitor from her third screen on the back, which didn't show her what we saw, but monitored us and the results to make sure it went smoothly. I sat down and watched my friend disappear around the other side. I sat there and put on what looked like a VR headset, and a pale white screen stared back. Several minutes of that passed and nothing changed, and the attendant apologized and said she had never seen this happen before, asked us to wait here, and walked off to grab a higher-up. As my friend and I joked a bit, without seeing each other, we decided to put the headsets back on and try again. The white screen stared back again for a minute or two, and just as I was about to take it off again, it changed. The screen flashed through a brief life from my point of view, almost too fast for my brain to comprehend. I saw my friend and I getting married and having a child, but everything after that rapidly deteriorated into chaos. I saw cities burning, hundreds of people in a crowd dying or dead, militaries around the world united against something, nukes going off, and then the screen went black. It flashed "You may now take off the headset" and I practically ripped it off my head. I just experienced the extinction of the human race in 5 seconds and I was shaking. I fell out of the chair as I tried to get up and crawled over to my friend to help her. I could only imagine how distraught she must have been, if it had affected me like this. I got over to her and saw her crying, hands cupped over her mouth. It was then that I realized the attendant had come back while we were in the machine and she stared in horror at her screen. I helped my friend up and walked out quickly with her, getting back to the hotel as quickly as we could. We drove in silence and once we got there we sat in silence. I wanted to say something but I couldn't get any words out. When I woke up in the morning, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She confessed that she's had feelings for me since we met and she was hoping this trip would confirm things enough to get us together. She said she wanted to try and not let some machine tell us how our future is going to be. She said it surely was just some trick and couldn't be real, she just wants to be with her best friend and finally not have to hide her feelings anymore.
That was a few years ago. Now we're married and she's pregnant, and so far nothing bad has happened to us. I can't help but get the odd feeling of deja vu though, as if I had already seen all of this before. Sure, I remembered the machine, but I couldn't remember exactly what everything looked like when it showed me our future. But what would really be the odds of doing everything exactly the same? Unless it really did show us the future, but that's just silly, right? | 161 | The Museum of the History of Love has a new exhibit, which it calls an Alternate Future Coupling, but everyone calls the Ship-O-Matic. Two people sit in it, and they see a minutes-long vision of what their life as a couple would be like. | 740 |
Two humans sat before a crude stone table, un-level and rough edged, hastily crafted by beings who had never needed to make one before.
The humans shuffled their papers, murmured amongst themselves. The chamber echoed with the din of an ever repeating eruption of high decibel booms. Around the edges of the great hall, spindly legs the size of men danced in rhythmless irritation. Claws the size of bookshelves snapped sharply in excitement.
the humans stared downward, at their papers, their laps, their hands. They gazed at the only objects familiar to them, to avoid to the many-eyed faces ahead.
Julie Becket, Phd, toyed with her fingers and imagined herself at home, in the tub, the hard porcelain and warm water shielding her from this diplomatic nightmare. She spent years studying crabs. Crustaceans. She published papers on crab physiology and evolution. She spent months at a time scouring shorelines and seabeds for data, attempting to understand the fascinating lives of even the smallest of crustaceans.
The creatures in this room were much larger than she was used to.
A mechanical voice droned in her earpiece, translating the cacophonous speech of the cancer-forms to English.
“We tire of how you scatter from us,” the maw clacked. “From the truth! You scurry to your boxy burrows, anchored to dirt and rock, and you hide your shell-less bodies from the elements. You make up for your weakness with blankets of plant fiber, animal hide, or synthetic bits of cloth. At every place on this planet, you chitter and skitter and crawl. You fear everything, because you are weak. Yet you skirt the edges of greatness!”
The human ambassador scoffed and looked around. Julie’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head at him. The ambassador gulped and looked back at his papers.
The crabs within the room stomped their many legs and clicked their mouths in agreement with the great maw.
“We offered you food. When we arrived on your planet we brought with us the still rotting carapace of the venerated carciform Glurga. She, who mothered countless thousands and offered her flesh for all to feast on, whose great limbs stretched across canyons, was turned away by you horde of uncultured, soft-skinned apes.”
The ambassador, a normally stern man named Taylor, sipped from a trembling glass of water.
Julie did not know a thing about diplomacy. Or politics. But somehow her expertise on the physiology of earth’s own crabs was deemed important enough to garner a seat at the table.
The maw continued cracking ahead of her. Spittle and bits of its last meal dropped from the corners of the mouth and clung to the smooth, hard shell.
“All these injustices, small compared to the greatest.” The room slowed to silence. The diplomats looked up in anticipation.
“You dishonor the holy carciform by refusing to commit to it.”
The ambassador’s confused face turned to Julie and mouthed “commit?”
Julie shrugged.
“Ms. Becket, how many species of crab live on your world?”
Julie cleared her throat. “More than six-thousand distinct species,” she said. “Sir,” she added.
“And of those species, how many distinct evolutionary lines led to the holy carciform?”
“Uh.. um,” she stuttered. “There are at least a dozen, um…taxonomic, uh, groupings along clades which -“
The great crab raised a claw to silence her.
“Are humans crabs?” He asked.
“Um, no?” She stated, dumbfounded.
“Because you do not commit!” The crab screamed. The roar of the surrounding crabs surrounded the humans.
The ambassador stood up.
“We can’t be crabs!” He shouted. “We’re mammals!”
“Plenty of crabs are mammals!” The crab responded. Lesser mammals have committed to the path! See your own armadillo! Soon, it too will be crab!”
“Sir,” Julie interjected. “On earth, crabs and crab-like species originate with a common ancestor. The convergence of their traits is still within very similar species.”
The crab growled.
“Do crabs have tails?” He asked.
“The crab tail is largely reduced in size and form-“
“Where is your tail?” He yelled. “vestigial! Curled within yourself! Did your ancestors have digits capable of pinching? Did they have your broad, flat backs? All life on this world originated together! You all share the common crab within! Do not deny it!”
“Oh my god,” whispered Julie.
“What?” Taylor asked.
“We‘re…..” Julie couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“Crabs!” The maw spit. “Or something transitory.”
The ambassador cleared his throat. “with respect, we lack the shells you and armadillos have.”
“Your homes. Vehicles. All built instinctually, by the holy instruction encoded in all DNA, to be as shell-like as possible. you eat other animals, you eat other crabs. You scurry away from that which frightens you. Like crabs to their burrows. All life is crab, eventually.”
Julie whispered to her colleague. “Carcinisation is something that only happened amongst crustaceans, yet here we are. In front of an audience of giant crabs from outer space. The odds are astronomically small that an alien race, let alone all alien races, would be crabs. Unless…”
“Unless we’re correct,” said the crab. “The crab is as inevitable to carbon-based life as a star is from a nebula of hydrogen.”
Neither of the humans closed their mouths. Neither dared to speak.
“Carcinisation is the name of the game,” said Julie.
“If you continue to deny your holiest of forms, we will see to it that your evolutionary development ends here,” said the crab. “To make room for more pious species. But fear not!”
The multitude erupted in cheers and what sounded like applause. The humans slumped in their seats.
“For we will help you on your journey to your inner crab!” | 12 | Carcinisation is the name of the game. You've seen species come and go, but eventually everyone becomes a crab. Humans are reluctant, but you're sure you can convince them to upgrade. | 174 |
It is helping them.
One doesn't have to ask who ''it'' is. Everyone knows. Everyone has heard. Everyone has seen it. A being from beyond time and space, a creature unbound by conventions, the laws of physics, something that isn't a person, but a cosmic fact with a will of its own. The Judge. It has eaten gods, it has burned worlds, it has destroyed empires. It tests the mettle of all who manage to leave their home system by artificial means. It is a gruelling test, never the same, always different. The Judge examines every world's history, their cultures, their natures, and forces them to be true to themselves to complete the test. Those who succeed, who overcome their flaws and show their better natures, are allowed to continue to develop. To create an interstellar empire of their own. Those who fail are sent back on the evolutionary scale, their nations dismantled, their world reforged, allowing another race to rise on their homeworld, that might one day ascend and be tested instead. Most succeed. Rare indeed is the world that fails.
There is no bargaining, there is no threatening, no intimidating, no wealth, no ruin, nothing satisfies the Judge except the completion of its test. It is beyond the scopes of our understanding. Of any race known to the general galactic community. The Interstellar High Council, and the associated archives going back millions of years, have records of every race and their encounters with the Judge. Every success, every test, every failure. Everyone who has managed to contact it. Everyone who has been annihilated for insulting it with the petty ambitions of mortal races. Everyone who has been de-evolved for daring to do something so foul and debased as worshipping the Judge. It's all in there. But this has never happened in recorded memory. This has never been seen before. And all of the known areas of the universe, in our galaxy and the others whom we can only speak to, as intergalactic travel hasn't been successful yet; every powerful individual, important organisation, nation-state, empire, and religion, is asking themselves a simple question; How?
How did they get the single most eldritch creature, a thing that is simultaneously measured as being merely the size of an average sentient lifeform, and the size of a small galaxy, to help them? How did a fractured, disorganised, uncooperative planet of little cretins with no central government, get the single most powerful and dangerous entity in creation to help them? To come to their world, guiding them, teaching them, helping them see the best path to rebuilding their dying world, and then getting it put into action? Usually it hinders and stalls development, until the arbitrary demands it has put on the tested species have been fulfilled. Of course, asking it directly is impossible. Unless it is supremely important to speak with it, one should never dare to contact it. As it does not suffer unimportant fools making demands of it. Only in the rarest of circumstances should it ever be acknowledged at all.
And yet many look upon these humans, on their little world of dirt and grime. They wonder, why does the Judge care for them? Why should anyone care for them at all? Who would care at all for that little race, when they could be conquered instead, and put under the solid iron boot of a strong central government? Why should anyone care for them, when they are not of the same flesh as stronger, more powerful empires? They are flawed, silly things. And the Judge still helps them. Still teaches them, still cares for their world like a mother for her child. They are not united in glorious purpose. They do not desire conquest and dominion. They are capable of cruelty, but it is a childish form of cruelty done for reasons that are personal at best. They do not churn countless millions into the dust for sake of efficiency; they do it because they don't know any better. They don't understand how a proper, strong government, should rule.
Perhaps that is why the Judge care for them in such a manner, the empires around that insignificant world would like nothing better than to subdue it, to conquer it, for blood, glory, and strength.
That is the great weakness, of all the nations of the universe. Mankind, on their little world, with their little flaws, and little mistakes, have not succumbed to autocracy and tyranny. Not entirely. There are cabals, tyrants, greedy rich fools, and other scum who keep trying to force mankind to become a singular, uniform race. Yet despite all those who desire for mankind to become obedient soldiers and workers slaving and dying for the ruling class; there are still those who fight back. There are still those who believe in decency, in working together because it is right, not merely because there is an enemy. Humanity is a free species. Humanity, despite all the cruel, corrupt, and malignant menaces that they have to deal with, still marches discordantly and sometimes with a good couple of steps in entirely the wrong direction, towards freedom, decency, and progress.
That is what the Judge has seen. Alone amidst all the nations of the cosmos, only mankind is so chaotic and self-destructive as to retain an attempt at freedom and liberty. The Judge, alien and strange, eldritch and bizarre, sat itself in human flesh upon the human world, in an attempt to understand mankind. It failed utterly and completely. But it learned things it never could have dreamed of. Compassion, art, revelry, actual love, friendship. These things can be found on many worlds, but they are always subsumed into a worship of the state, a desire for obedience, and a lack of personal dignity. The Judge found that only on Earth is there the option of standing against the current. Only on Earth, where mankind have committed several mistakes and atrocities, is there hope for a future, and those willing to fight the mainstream, the faith, and the state to get a future worth living in. The Judge only stayed human for a single lifetime, but it experienced more unabated joy, more sorrow, more love, more silliness, more confusion, and more curiosity than it had experienced since the universe began. | 346 | A cosmic being known as "The Judge" examines a civilization's history and poses a fitting test before granting space travel. The galactic council is stunned as for the first time, it is helping these 'humans' instead of hindering. | 485 |
The sound of a gavel banging on wood brings your senses back into focus.
“Order! The Court of the Afterlife is now in session.” The voice booms around you as if being spoken from all directions at once. It sounds like a thousand different voices all combined with no defined gender. “All present state you name for the record”
You look around and see you are in an ancient stadium, the stands are slowly filling up with towering beings appearing from nowhere. Most of them look human, however several of them look like animals and some don’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before. In front of you is a raised podium almost like a courtroom, vaguely familiar faces appear before you as their voices reverberate around the vast space you find yourself in.
“Hades, God of the Underworld. Representing the Greek Pantheon”
“Pluto, God of the Underworld. Here on behalf of the Roman Gods”
“This one did not die in battle. Therefore I, Hel of the Norse Gods, will stand in place of my brother Odin” a tall woman with jet black hair appeared, dressed in full Viking armour.
A blue being with 4 arms sweeps past you and takes it’s place alongside the other gods “I, Kali, am here for the Hindu faith”
You immediately recognise the next being. A tall man with the head of a Jackal takes his seat “Anubis of Egypt. Present.”
“Waheguru, Sikh, here”
“Jesus of Nazareth for the Christian faiths”
“Jehovah, present”
“Yahweh, Judaism”
The final two members of the panel enter on foot. One looks like an old Chinese Emperor and the other is dressed in full Samurai armour. Behind the Chinese Emperor is a procession of dozens of regal Chinese lords, they bow and wordlessly move into the lower stands and take their seats.
The Emperor and the Samurai bow in unison before addressing you and the other Gods “King Yama YanLuo Wang, with me are the Judges of the Underworld Courts, the four Kings of the Underworld, the Ghost Kings of the five regions, and the royal court of Fengdu” said the Chinese Emperor, gesturing to his Lords sat in the low tier with a grand sweep of his hand.
“I am Shinigami, Shinto God of Death” said the Samurai.
As the stadium settles into silence, the voice of the court spoke again “You who was faithless in life now must choose your path in death and be subject to it’s judgement. Ye Gods and Goddesses that could not win this mortal soul’s faith have one last chance to lay claim. It is a rare time indeed that we must convene this court, yet it is happening more now than ever before. It is YOU, mortal, that must sit in judgement of us. Each faith will have opportunity to invite you to it’s afterlife, you must then decide in which afterlife your soul shall spend eternity. Gods and Goddesses, present your cases” | 89 | When you die you enter the afterlife you believed in, but you never cared what happened after death. You just died and found yourself in front of a panel of gods all discussing what is to be done with you, because apparently believing nothing breaks the system. | 241 |
“Vincent!” the maddening shout echoed off the drab gray stone walls of the throne room. Servants in the nearby hallways rushed into their tucked-away passages not wanting to take the chance of being caught in the king’s crosshairs.
A single man draped in the colors of the kingdom— red, black, and green. The dark green pleated robe accented in black trimmings and gold embroidery marking him a royal advisor strutted confidently into the throne room.
“Yes, my King?”
“Ah, Vincent, there you are. It has just occurred to me that my subjects do not respect me as much as they should.”
“Your highness, I can assure you they can feel your overwhelming benevolence.”
“Yes, well nonetheless, I feel I must remind them who their true sovereign is. Your last advice was truly inspired and I will have you help me devise a new hardship that will truly trump your crop rotation idea.”
The slight man bowed, schooling his expression into emotionless apathy. “I am not worthy of such compliments. M’lord. I merely obliged by suggesting it would make growing crops harder for the farms and less likely to have time to complain if they instead had to rotate them every season to keep them busier.”
The king turned up his nose with a smirk. “Pish posh.” He waved his hand as if to ward off bad karma. “You may be correct, but my father taught me that even competence should be rewarded. And considering there hasn’t been much competence lately your service stands out.” Vincent bowed even further without saying anything further.
He waited the appropriate amount of time before he stood straight once again. “Were you looking for respect from a particular group or more just from the population in general?” He knew how to word the questions to get the answer he wanted from his king. He would always go with the option that included more people.
“The general population should exalt me more. Yes, the whole of them.” Vincent could practically see the glinting in the King’s eyes.
“Hmm, I might have some thoughts, but may I ask your highness a few questions?”
“I will permit it.”
“Thank you, m’lord. A while back we discussed divine right and how you were chosen by God to rule. So it stands to reason that everyone else that works in the kingdom was ordained by God to work that job?”
“That makes perfect sense as there are things that need to be done and it is not like anyone would choose to be a latrine cleaner. Obviously, God has chosen that job for them.”
“Reasonably so, m’lord. Would you say your job as king is most enjoyable?”
“Obviously. How could I not enjoy a job chosen just for me by the almighty himself?”
“Of course, I just wanted to make sure I understood the King’s stance on the issue. Would you say that your job as our monarch is a full day’s job?”
“All day and all night. I particularly enjoy fulfilling my kingly duties at night, if you know what I mean.” The rotund king conspicuously winked at Vincent.
“Without a doubt. You would say you work all day every day a week at a job you enjoy because God himself ordained it so?”
“Ohhh, I think I see where you’re going with this. You think I should demand everyone work their jobs as long as I work mine?”
“Just the opposite, my king. Why should everyone have as much enjoyment all day as their king.” Vincent knew he had walked the King right where he wanted him. “What if you were to limit the amount of time they worked at their job throughout the week? They would not be able to derive as much enjoyment as you do. It would truly trouble the people and it will show them that you demand their respect lest you limit their joy-filled jobs even more.”
“Vincent, are you sure you’re not part devil? Your suggestion seems diabolical. I like it. Obviously, we can’t just make them stop working entirely. Even I am aware that the jobs need to be completed and who am I to better than the almighty himself.” Vincent was amazed, even he could put God above himself.
“What if they performed their divine tasks five days a week and only during the daytime?”
“I like it. They honor their commitment to God, but they are limited in the amount of joy they feel so they aren’t on the same level as their King.”
“Truly m’lord, you are able to see beyond the veil of ignorance and see the grand scheme of the world and the divine plan.”
“Naturally, I was born to rule.”
> Author's Note: I tried to work on two distinctive voices for dialogue for this little exercise. Hope you enjoyed reading it. | 92 | Your king is objectively, unredeemably evil, so as his advicer you have to try your hardest to make good, helpful changes to your country sound like they're evil or harmful in some way. | 166 |
I very confidently strolled over, when I noticed, on the silver gates, two crosses. Wait... wasn't this the Vampire Hunter Association? Wha-
"STAND DOWN, MONSTER!" I look up to see a guy wielding all sorts of anti-vampire weaponry hiding out in a tree. As he gets down, I hear someone on the other side of me.
Oooooooh, now I get it. I hold my hands up.
"Please, this is a misu-"
"SILENCE! We can kill you in an instant, you might want to co-operate."
Gulping, I nod. "Good. Now, toss your weapons aside." I remove my pistol, shotgun, knife, taser, dart gun and flash camera. At the camera, the two look at each other confused. I get out my rope, and drop it at my feet.
"I assume you're giving us permission to contain you?" I nod. I think for a moment - I have a stray bit of fabric in my pocket. Been meaning to deal with it, but I guess now I'm glad I haven't. I bring it out and begin to cover my mouth to hide my fangs.
One of the two speaks. "Wait, you don't need-"
"If you can't trust me enough not to bite you, then you can't trust me enough to have the ability." I look at the other guy, who nods the affirmative. It's not like I'm supposed to be speaking anyway.
Once I'm restrained, I'm taken through the gate, and in through a side door. Upon it being opened, I see a coffin - fitting for a vampire, I suppose. Without needing to be told, I step in. I'm unbound, and my hands and feet become locked in place. The coffin is closed and locked. The cloth is removed. My primal instincts are rising, but even though I don't need to, I restrain myself; no need to give a false impression.
The coffin is rolled through a door to another room. I can see beyond a door in the room, a bright light. I guess that's the fate of vampires... I only have one chance to beg for mercy...
A big man enters. I know of him - he's notorious for his ability to kill vampires with a glare. I mean, that's a myth, but myths come from somewhere; he's just that dangerous. Upon seeing my face, his expression changes.
"You're Clara, right?"
I'm shocked. "Ho- how did you know?"
The man smiles. "I see you around the forest sometimes, hunting deer and wolf and... whatever you see, really. I also know you're no monster. This was just a misunderstanding. Gentlemen, if you could let her out please."
Still in 'instinct mode', and fearful of what I may do, I let my instinct take over, knowing if I don't now, it may be too late. I bear my fangs and try to break free. I look at the man, who's now shocked.
"I... I'm sorry. After being put in here, I... I just gained this urge, this desire..."
He nods. "I see. You're releasing it now before you can actually do any harm. We'll hold you in our 'vampire prison' for now. We'll figure out what to do later."
Unable to regain control, I'm just grateful I didn't lose my mind.
A while later, I've managed to calm down. I'm let out, with all my gear, and immediately go to look for a meal. I spot a nice, fat deer. Must be filled with rich blood.
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Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 31 | both when you were a regular human and now that you are a vampire. As such, when you learn that there is a Vampire Hunter Association, you are naturally eager to join. | 100 |
My peers shunned me for my unorthodox methods in art. They were passionate about their work--but so was I! Yet, I was singled out, berated, and ridiculed.
I was labeled as a creep and as a fool. 'A grown man playing with dolls?' is what they would always ask to belittle me. My work is still art, and never did these so-called 'artists,' with their canvas, clay, and marble, consider my craft as equal, simply because I create dolls.
There would be people too, strangers or otherwise, that would praise me. 'Great attention to detail,' but it would always trail off with 'a little creepy though.'
Not a single one out there appreciates my dolls one bit.
I had driven myself to a reclusive life. I eventually began to carve my dolls through the wood I had taken from the trees where I resided. It was a lonely life. It was a maddening life. But eventually, I would meet...what you would say, was my light.
Shirley was the name she had introduced herself with. A lithe woman whose platinum hair flew along with the wind. Her arms were decorated with small tattoos; hearts, flowers, numbers, words. They trailed along all the way up to her shoulder, before her sleeveless top began to obscure the rest. I was scared but there was something different about her. It turns out that she was an artist as well. She carries her sketchpad with her, looking for a nice piece of scenery to draw.
We eventually began to talk, and the hours of that day flew by as if it were seconds. She found out that I made dolls, and for the first time...someone, with all their heart, truly and genuinely appreciated the amount of effort I put into them. The details, the edges, all of it...Shirley loved.
She would begin to buy them off me as well, but I decided to reveal to her my secret first. It was terrifying; I knew there was a chance she would shun me. But she deserved to know. I had based my dolls off of the people I remember, recalling each detail of their face, inscribing it onto the doll. Sadly, hatred is a strong foundation of memory, and thus most of the dolls I had made while in solitude bore the faces of the people who mocked me.
All of this Shirley paid no mind to; she only gave me empathy. She preferred to buy dolls that were made without the burden of disdain, to which I understood and agreed to provide.
I managed to buy myself a few nice things because of Shirley, as well as with her sharing to other people the work that I create. I was no millionaire, but as an artist, it was a big deal.
Things were finally looking up for me.
Then, one day, Shirley brought with her a man. Tall, muscular, and as painful as it is to admit, far more attractive than I am. But surely, he was just someone interested in what I do--sadly, as soon as Shirley mentioned the word fiancé, my heart dropped.
I had no words. Everything went blank and I had gone deaf. I stared at the man, looked into his eyes as deep as I could. Everything about his face just burned into my mind.
Then, I walked back to my house and ignored the banging. The noise of a man and woman who had decided it was finally time to burst the happy little bubble I was in during the last couple of months. Just white noise to me at this point.
I spent the rest of the night carving that man's face on my doll. Then Shirley. Then me. My ears felt hot as I continued my work, my hands shivered, and my teeth clenched. Yet I made sure that the details were there, all of it. I hated that man for taking Shirley away from me. I desired to hurt him, and so I took a stab at my own doll, but the release was far from cathartic. I began to hate Shirley as well; she had led me on and made me believe that this worthless life of mine actually had meaning. And me--the fool, the grand fool, who believed.
At this point, I had lost it. I was so engrossed in my work and hatred that I had forgotten just about everything else around me.
The next day, Shirley and his fiancé came by. We greeted each other and I apologized. I even let them in, although the mess I made last night was still there. The emotions I had that night were still there, too.
And it only grew when they mentioned it again. Then before I knew it, I had struck Shirley's fiancé with one of my carving tools. His face bled all over until he collapsed; Shirley could not do anything but scream. Then, out of a fit of my own anger, she was next.
I stared at the both of them on the ground, collapsed. I soon followed.
A few days later, Shirley, her fiancé and I stood atop the chair where I had left my dolls. We watched the news, all three of us, seeing our bodies on the floor.
For the first time in my life, I was famous. It only took my death to make it happen. | 82 | As an art school student you came up with a plan to fake your own death if you don't manage to become famous. It worked and you're now a millionaire living under false name and 'finding' a new painting every few years for an extra cash. But in the news today you see that they found your body. | 464 |
The high noon sun did not touch him, the wide brim of his sombrero cast an absolute shadow over his broad shoulders. Silver embroidery glittered from within his cloak of shade, sparkling like stars in a midnight sky. The mob of wizards were frozen in a tableau of fear as he approached. Near fifty wizards were caught in midst of an epic battle. Contorted poses, outstretched hands, even a few levitating wizards painted a clear picture - an all out magical battle, about to cause massive destruction and mayhem.
The only sound was the metallic jangle of bright spurs.
He stopped before the mob, dark eyes assessing. With a fierce snap of his fingers, the nearest wizard fell from their spell casting pose, dropping to the dirt. Scrabbling to her feet, the member of the Derby Dowagers brushed off her cocktail dress and nervously adjusted her feathered hat. Gathering her courage, she lifted her gaze.
"Speak, hechicera. Why," he gestured broadly at the mob, "el caos?"
She wet her lips, his overwhelming presence stealing the very moisture from the air. "We...we..." Half formed words fell from her numb lips as her hands shook.
"I have no patience for stuttering." The shadow cast by his sombrero writhed against the ground, reflecting his growing ire. "You!" Another snap. A drag queen managed to keep her feet, but not her hat, as the freeze spell released her. Quickly the member of Mascara Mages snatched the purple netted monstrosity from the ground. With a quick curtsey, she gathered her wits.
"Don Charro, sincerest apologies, we didn't mean to disturb you."
"I asked for an explicación not excusas!" He glared at the two cowed wizards. His anger was a physical thing, exerting terrible pressure. The Derby Dowager fell in a swoon, gasping for breath. It felt like a massive bull was crushing her chest.
"Perhaps you," his snap cracked like a whip. A cowboy flinched as if struck, almost falling backwards as he was released. Quickly, he swept his Stetson from his head out of respect. He stepped up next to the other wizards, who mere moments ago, were his foes in magical battle.
"Don Charro, it was a dispute o' mana rights." The cowboy glared at the other two, "The Dowagers were tresspassin' on the Arcane Cowboy mana springs." He jerked his head at the other wizard, "Then them Mascara Mages jumped in, takin' advantage."
"Now see here young man..!"
"The SHADE! How dare..!"
The three quickly dissolved into a shouting match. Sparks of magic began to gather as voices climbed higher and higher. The cowboy reached for his pistol first, brandishing it with incantations in his mouth. The queen and dowager responded in kind, fan and cocktail stirrer ready to sling spells.
"¡Silencio!" Don Charro's roar erupted, scattering the wizard's magic to the winds. The three unfrozen wizards went pale and snapped to attention.
"And the normal means of settling dispute did not serve? ¡Desgracia!" Stomping his boot, the ground trembled in response. The remaining wizards tumbled from their poses. The few levitating wizards fell face first into the dirt.
"Shame on you all. You do not deserve the hats you wear." Slowly, he uncoiled a long cow whip. "I have made my decision." Muscles flexed under his black jacket, the silver embroidery stretched as he swept the black handle up. One hundred eyes followed it with helpless fear - for a moment his hand paused at the very peak. A savage slash unleashed the whip, sent it coiling like a struck serpent, cracking above the mob with the sound of crashing thunder. The crescendo of sound flattened the wizards, sending a few tumbling like dried weeds. The sound ripped through them all, stealing breath and light, going on and on like a furious stampede.
Slowly, the thundering faded. A few managed to pick their heads up and see Don Charro seated above them on a midnight black horse. The stallion pranced with impatience, scattering light from the silver bridle.
"You will regain your magic in three days." Don Charro glared down at the pitiful wizards reduced to hysterical sobs by the loss of their power. "Do not force me to intervene again. It will be the last time."
With a slap of the reigns, Don Charro sent the stallion flying into a gallop. The shadow from his sombrero grew and grew before rising up and swallowing wizard and horse whole.
The silence in his wake did not last long.
"You! If not for you this wouldn't have happened!"
"Do not blame me for your powerless state!"
"Oh bitch please! You started this and you know it!"
"Enough!" The cowboy yelled with all his might, a pale imitation of Don Charro's intimidating roar from moments before. To the traumatized wizards, it was more than enough to silence them. "We have met the Man of Midnight himself and came away with our lives." All the wizards around him flinched. With a flick of his wrist, the cowboy replaced his Stetson on his head. "I don't know about y'all, but I'm going home and giving my familiar a hug." With that, he whistled to his men, and ambled away.
The remaining wizards looked at each other. Slowly, the queen with the purple hat nodded, a few specks of glitter falling to the battleground. The dowager nodded in return, iridescent feathers bobbing.
"Let's go girls. I need to get the dust out of my weave." The queens strutted away.
"Ladies, I know an excellent place for a mojito." Primly, they tutted towards the opposite direction.
Glitter, scorch marks, and hoof prints were all that remained, quickly covered by the wind and dust. | 781 | Everyone knows the bigger the hat the more powerful the wizard. That’s why visiting magicians are so nervous about going to cowboy ranches, fashion shows, and Mexico. | 4,260 |
I want few things in this life. To have my needs met. To be happy. To be left alone. I have found the latter of these requests to be increasingly difficult to meet. Ever since I graduated high school anywhere I go someone wants something from me. 2 weeks ago, I remember walking down from the stage and immediately being accosted by a man claiming to be my long dead grandfather, rambling about me being "destined for greatness" among other nonsense. Hell, yesterday marks the 5th time in a row a helpless old lady was robbed in the middle of the street in broad daylight. I feel like im going crazy.
Or was it the world around me?
I had decided to book an appointment with a therapist. Clear my head I guess. I arrived at the listed address early in the afternoon. It was a large Victorian era estate, seemingly in good condition. I approached the comically sized front door and knocked. I then looked to my left and saw the small sign reading "Patients of Dr. Klein please enter through side door". Begrudingly I turned away from the front door and walked down a stone path going along the side of the property. I was absent mindedly looking at the estate when I noticed something moving in the trees lining the property. I couldn't make heads or tails of what it was. Perhaps a deer? I mustered up the courage to half heartidly yell a quick "Hey" towards the mysterious creature. In an instant, it faced towards me. Emerging from the trees was a sasquatch wielding a chainsaw. I realized he probably wasn't the groundskeeper and decided to bolt back to my car. It just stood where he was, watching me. I left the therapist a text about the squatch problem, and carried on with my day.
The next incident was the very same afternoon.
Still rattled from the whole sasquatch thing, I wanted to get some food to calm me down. I pulled into a grocery store parking lot when my phone started ringing.
"Hello, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"
"Uhh, Mike?"
"Michael, after reviewing your application we are proud to say you have been accepted. Congratulations"
"What?"
"You've been accepted."
"Accepted to what?"
The call ended before I got my answer. Too puzzled to even process what had just happened, I sought my friend Derek for advice. I drove over to his apartment complex, hit the buzzer a half dozen times until he woke up, and made my way inside. I got Derek up to speed, explaining the strange occourences which have been interrupting my life lately.
"Well, buddy. You want my piece?"
"Yea Derek, I could really use some guidance."
Derek chuckled.
"Not my advice, man. My piece! You know. The spare 9 mil I got layin around someplace".
"Why the hell would I want that?"
"Well, im not putting words in your mouth or nothin, but I recall you speaking of a chainsaw wielding sasquatch".
"Its not just the sasquatch, Derek. Its everything. The phone calls. The people constantly being robbed and assaulted in my vicinity. You know the Presidents advisor pocket dialed me last month. Its weird. Beyond weird. I feel like a puppet. Like someone has written a story for me and is trying to force me down its path. I want it to end".
"Have you tried just going along with it?"
"Not yet... Im afraid, Derek. What if I start going along with it and it falls out of my control?"
"Do this for me, Mikey boy. Next time anything happens, just go with it. See what happens. How bad could it be?"
"Alright. Thanks Derek. Ill see you around".
I drove home, not fully confident in Dereks advice, but out of ideas.
I woke up the next morning to my phone ringing. I started sweating profusely as the words 'Private Number' dominated my screen. With shaky hands, I answered.
"Hello?"
"Mr. President, Thank god. We've been trying to reach you all morning"
"Yes, yes.. I....g-got lost?"
"I need you to confirm the strikes on Eastern Europe. Are you certain"?
"Sure."
"Thank you Mr President."
I ended the call. What did I just confirm? Strikes? Missiles? Jesus christ I think i've just killed some people.
The phone began ringing. It was Derek.
"Fuck me dude, check the news. Shits popping off".
"What?"
"The fucking President authorized nuclear strikes all over Russia. This is fucking war man."
I couldn't speak.
"They thought I was..."
"You there Mike? Stop mumbling speak up".
"Y-yes I'm h-here."
"Why do you sound so worried? The presidents a smart guy, he wouldn't have done something like that on a whim. By the way hows it going with the—wait. Wait a fucking minute. Did you have something to do with this?! Mikey. Talk. Fuck me man. I mean't helping some old ladies not nuclear fucking wa—"
Call ended. | 12 | You aren't a hero or villain, and that's the only thing you need. You're an ordinary person and just want to stay under the radar, but the world REALLY wants you to be a main character. | 34 |
It could have been bearable. It really could have. Life is a comedy. And I mean that in a highly literal sense. When something goes wrong, there is a audio cue. People are bizarrely clumsy and get into situations that should kill them only to come out of them in some vaudevillian fashion that is inherently going to lead them into getting covered in some kind of sticky substance. Usually some manner of cake. And I could live with it. If only it was a good comedy. Any Mel Brooks comedy. A Monty Python movie. Airplane, Blackadder, the Cornetto trilogy, anything. But no. This is reality, and it is a poorly made Adam Sandler movie that caters to the lowest common denominator.
It is maddening. My mother's funeral as a child? A travesty that scarred me for life, but then again who wouldn't be when a bunch of dumb morons fight on top of the casket, breaking it, while the laughing record plays. There are no cute romances, it is always the same awkward, stupid, played-out, bullshit with deeply unlikable people. Every date I've gone on should have been a punchline in Seinfeld somehow. In high school I had classmates who make Sheldon Cooper from Big Bag Theory seem like a believable interpretation of what a nerd is like. Every day, every single last day, I have to interact with people who'd make a stupid joke at the worst moments to start the damn laughtrack. And it's horrifying. It's like living in a goddamn MCU movie, where they look so much down on the audience that they cannot let a serious emotional moment happen without making a stupid smartass comment. And always, always the laughing.
Oh, but you're all used to it. You all make bad jokes, and then the laughing starts. Horrible. Especially when you remember that all those laughs were recorded in the 1950s. Most, if not all of those people laughing are now long dead, their horrid echoes are like maddened hyenas cackling at me constantly. It's tame. It's boring. It's screaming for Gilbert Gottfried, may he rest in peace, to make a really obscene version of the ''Aristocrats'' joke. It's begging for someone with *any* real comedic skills to do anything. But there are none left. The great comedians are all gone. I know this, because through a horrible, painful, and embarrassing journey, I've found that every person who is genuinely funny in the world has just vanished. Only terrible comedians are left. All the jokes, are lame. So lame that they make traditional dad-jokes seem like high culture in comparison. But that's what life is. You get shot down for a date and you get the ''wah-wah-waaah'' trombone sound. You trip on something weird, and you get an obviously fake ''bwoing'' sound. Whenever something unexpected happens, at least one person will respond with a lame catchphrase, that inexplicably makes the undead peanut gallery erupt into uproarious laughter.
Of course, every lame comedy needs its straight man. The one who doesn't get the joke, the one who gets to be miserable. That's me. Or it used to be. The stupid comedy all around me makes you lot incapable of functioning effectively. If I were to stab one of you after a bad joke, your last words would probably be something like ''Ah, that's a cutting remark'' or ''Everyone's a critic'' before you'd bleed to death. Hell, even now, after I've killed the president, the Secret Service is too busy making lame puns to deal with me. And slipping on the many banana peels I've left around the White House. Or laughing at the one guy who is farting a whole lot. That never made sense to me. Why is that supposed to be funny? It's not even an attempt at humour. It is a regrettable biological function.
I can't tell if things have always been like this, because I've never gotten serious answers to my questions about the world. Only lame puns and dumb jokes. Were I to look up things in a book, someone would have in an impossible manner have replaced the actual answer with an equally stupid joke. I can't take it anymore. And frankly, I won't. So, America, I'm doing it. The biggest practical joke in the history of mankind. The greatest prank ever. And it's a funny one. Why, I suspect you lot will just **die** laughing. If not, I suggest listening to the OKEH Laughing Record(1920). That'll supply the laughs while you watch in horror as I end this farce of an existence the only way that is humane and decent. Because if this is some form of curse that we're all under, then I suspect we all want it to end. If the universe is merely built like this, and all of reality is a cheap sanitized Hollywood comedy without a shred of actual humour in it, then this is not cruelty. This is a merciful end for a tormented species in an evil universe.
Watch with reverence, my fellow humans, as the rockets launch. The launch-code was painfully childish and had been written on a post-it note. I am surprised this happened earlier by sheer accident. A sort of ''Cory in the House'' moment where ''whoops, I launched the nukes'' would definitely happen eventually. Laugh as the silly words on their sides, the ''hilarious'' puns on them, and possibly their vaguely phallic shapes, activates whatever is left of your brains that is forcing you to laugh and act like a buffoon. I can see them now, here in the Oval Office, which the security forces cannot enter because they've misplaced the spare key inside a tub of broccoli pudding that none of them want to touch. I can see the rockets entering the sky, and I can see the reports from the automated security systems, that the rest of the world is responding in kind. Humanity, reduced to this state, must die. I can hear them now, the laughter, the puns, the jokes, they grow shriller, more confused, more frightened. Was it a parasite of some sort, my fellow humans? Are we all infected, bar myself who finds life in this land to be a living hell?
If so, then it is the duty of mankind to rid the universe of such creatures. Humour was something we had in abundance. Comedy was a great thing once. From the Muppet Show to Jackie Chan, we could make people laugh. But all the laughter is forced and fake now. All the jokes are dead on arrival. All the humour is worth shit. If anything made us into these unfunny caricatures, so horribly unfunny that the Garfield Comic Strip could be considered high-brow and revolutionary in comparison, then it deserves death, and we deserve peace. And as nuclear strikes are confirmed in various locations, we shall have it. Goodbye world.
Let this be our last laugh.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | 29 | At a young age you figured out your life was a comedy. Whenever anything goes wrong there's a sad trombone noise, every joke no matter how bad gets the whole room laughing and every serious moment is undercut by a joke at some point. It is maddening. | 116 |
A group of traveling dessert nomads approached, there wear was very tattered. Yet through their meek appearance a sort of, royal muchness lay floating around like. Like a haze on land, they came up. inspected the land with a scowl of up-most authority.
The one in front mumbled something to a red man clothed in bage garments behind him, acknowledging the place was empty. Like a child at a playground they claimed it as theres. The group of roughly what made to be about Maybe 8, as you declared to yourself, doubtfully.
“We should go up” the one infront said
“Be best for it, we could stay here for a bit. And settle down. and then figure it out from there.” he said this with a manner of figuring, they made it up as they went along. They themselves weren’t so sure what this place would bring them.
“*Certainly not me*” you thought to yourself, 20 years on this spit and wiped city. 20 years yet again you have spent your time organizing this sanded plane. You pondered this thought, upon your decision the conclusion was rather straight foward. They cant stay here.
“temporary home. We must not stay here” the Red man was fully aware of the destability, the ruins before them. None of them could stay here. However as they drew closer. They noticed something. Odd
“Is that-“
“Couldnt be-“
“But if it were then.”
“Rather not-“
“Yes. Of course”
But they were right. And upon the entrance. An older, stumbling person was falling in the sand. The weight of the wind, pressing, pressing. Crushing him into the sand like his legs were twigs. Rebuilt, only to be constantly and continuesly pressed by the sand.
Opening your mouth to speak your mind. You havent ventured out in years this far into the dunes and the sands of friendship as before have now become sands of betrayel. Grown old in time. The protection of your precious city, the city which has protected you from the harshness from the outside now offers nothing but an appalling view of brokeness and distraught.
No words entered your mouth. And an essay of a hundred curses were spoken in silence.
“Why are you here? Theres nothing left” said the man infront, he fiddled a time piece in his hand. As the sun began to set. The beams of its heat entered. Hit. Then left only for the abrupt chilling of coldness to began to seep into the dessert. Turning things to black
“home.” You said outloud now dumbly. As the heat of the sun hit your head as it lowered into the sand. Your weakness gave in and you fell, the dryness and cancer of your own doing finally coming around and refilling your body. With pain
The man infront uttered again, rewordes however he knew the answer. Somehow would be the same “what- even are you?” He said. Your face was unfamiliar, lacking the humanoid features. They have been erased over time by the sands. But before a word of silence could even escape your mouth. the red man answered for you.
“A remnant.” He said, the tribe of nomads. Payed no more attention to your futile attempts. And stepped over you carrying on. Your home was gone, your strength betrayed you. And as the coldness set in. The only left in your head were. Memories. | 14 | You grew up alone, in a grand city lost to the evergrowing desert filled with nothing but the skeletons of those that died, and the things they left behind. You lived 20 years there, alone, with free reign and unlimited access to do as you wished, then a group of adventurers found it, and you. | 49 |
"Lord Drowl!" One of Drowl's loyal henchmen marches in a hero - Alo.
I step forward. Alo is bound and gagged, but clearly angry and frustrated rather than scared. "Ray... there had better be a good reason for you marching a hero in here as if he were a prisoner."
Ray grins as he removes the gag. Instantly, Alo starts talking. "Naytar, you... wait, are you wearing their uniform? You're on the *villain's* side? Naytar, you're better than this! You're a hero, not a villain! Get out, get away! Don't bow to this..."
Drowl sighs. "Stick the gag back on." Ray does so, and the talking instantly stops, but the glaring doesn't.
"Alo..." it instantly becomes clear he's not listening to anyone, not even me. I sigh. "Lord Drowl, you know I hate resorting to threats... but I fear we won't get any co-operation with Alo. We may... we..." I take a deep breath. "We may have to lock him in Miser Tower."
Drowl grins. "That *may not* be necessary." I turn around. Everyone has heard of Miser Tower, and Alo seems plenty scared now.
I remove the gag once more. There's no talking. "Alo... did you try to attack the empire?"
Alo looks away from me. "Yes... but... I was trying to free everyone..."
Drowl laughs. "*FREE?* Sir, everyone who joins me has more freedom than if they were to try to make it on their own!"
Alo eyes him suspiciously. "Explain."
Drowl goes through everything we've accomplished, from our first member to the elderly town controlled by the HOA, how we provided medical supplies when requested and protected a kingdom from invaders - even if it was down to a misunderstanding - as well as the king of the invading forces choosing to join due to recent troubles in the kingdom, as well as Drowl's encounter with his father. He goes through improvements each and every settlement made thanks to his leadership, his empire, and he explains how his purpose was to prove himself better than his brother, but his mission is to assist people as much as he can. Drowl provided proof of everything he said, and the more Drowl spoke, the more intrigued Alo became.
"...so you see, what I do is really for the benefit of everyone, and the fact there are still people who see me as a villain is... upsetting."
"I... I'm really sorry, Lord Drowl!" Alo begs. "I heard about the empire, not all the good it was doing... please, give me a chance! I'll make it my personal mission to spread the truth about you!"
"I'll give you a chance, on one condition... submit your loyalty to me. You won't require a uniform, as you'll do travelling work, but you *will* be required to wear a metal headband." Drowl waits for a response.
Alo looks down for a moment, then back up. "I'll... I'll do it..." Alo says, slightly shaken. He recovers himself. "I will serve you, Lord Drowl."
Drowl smiles. "Naytar?"
"Yes, sir" I respond, grabbing a metal headband. I choose one with a golden winged shield rather than bronze. I show it to Drowl to confirm, and he nods in approval. I walk over to Alo and put it on.
"Let him go now" Drowl commands. Ray unties Alo. "I don't like to be disappointed, Alo. I'll know if you go back on your word. Remember that, not as a threat, but as a warning."
"I understand. Thank you, Lord Drowl." With that, Alo leaves. Drowl shakes his head, smiling.
"People are beginning to appreciate me... but progress is slow. Maybe it was lucky for us Alo tried to attack us."
"I couldn't say one way or the other" I remark, "but it's always helpful to add more allies."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
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! | 14 | The hero is captured. Forced to listen while the villain monologues. And they have to admit, the villain is making some great points. | 93 |
The knock on the door was firm but not urgent. I rolled off the couch last nights drinks blurring my vision and making my head sting.
“I’ll be a minute” I called. Still unfamiliar with the layout of the apartment. I tripped over a pizza box and murmured under my breath. Again the same knock.
“Okay, okay” I managed. I really shouldn’t have drunk that much. A small screen beside the door showed an older gentleman wearing a long coat and a hat. It wasn’t exactly warm out but it wasn’t cold either. He seemed to shiver and wrapped the scarf around his neck tighter. I fumbled with the door unable to work out the complex locking mechanism. “Just a minute” I called as he raised his hand to knock again. Again he knocked.
I finally prised the door open and peered through the gap. “You’re a little old for room service” I said rubbing my face to untangle the cobweb of my hungover.
“I think you and I should have a talk” he began as he strode into the apartment. I could barely concentrate on his words let alone his arrogance to just walk in like that. Was this the building manager? “Look if this was about those pot plants… I’m really sorry but I had all this caviar and champagne and I’d never tried it before and apparently it doesn’t go too well with Tito’s and cranberry and it just kinda repeated on me…”
He stood there looking at me. Trying to understand what he was confronted by.
“I don’t care about the pot plants” he said measuredly “but I do know what you have done and that means I know what you found”
I stopped. “I think I need to…” I threw up.
It took me a moment to compose myself and the man bustled me into the kitchen. He handed me a paper towel and began searching the cupboards. “I need you to tell me some things” he said pulling a coffee cup out of the cupboard. “Then I need you to give me a hint of where to go next and I’ll be out of your hair forever” he quickly filled the kettle and turned it on to boil.
“Who are you?” I managed between dry retches.
He fixed me with a cold stare “I know you made the nuclear weapons all disappear”
I froze. Cold fear crept down my spine. “Who are you?” I said a bit more steadily
“I know you managed to get all of Vladimir Putins wealth overnight as well” I really should have worked out how to use the security system on the apartment.
“How did you get in here?” I asked flatly.
“You opened the door and let me in” he replied
“Yes sure but how did you get to the door?” I had multiple layers of security.
“Everything was wide open and there was no one at the guard hut” now that he mentioned it I do recall telling the guard that he should spend more time with his family. I handed him what was in my pockets and stumbled off in my daze but I do remember hearing a “woohoo!” From behind me.
I’m not completely sure but I seem to remember undoing all the security to go get the pizza. That was definitely something I was prone to doing.
“So the question is do you still have one left?” The man asked.
“I don’t know what you are talking about” I said trying to pull myself together.
“About three months ago you suddenly and without explanation lawfully had all of Vladimir Putins wealth, then a day later after he began to accuse the west of stealing everything all nuclear weapons on the planet disappear. Not just the Russians all of them. I know what this is.” He was stating fact and I was getting nervous.
“I think maybe you are the one who has had too much to drink old man” I tried to laugh. “Maybe you should go…”
“I know you found it! I need it!” He exclaimed.
“F..f..found what?” I bluffed badly.
“The genie! The bottle! He gave you three wishes and I need only one!”
“I can’t” I said frankly. “I’ve used them all”.
The man’s shoulders shrunk and he abandoned making coffee.
“I just needed one. What did you waste it on?” He said exasperated
“All I said was I wish I didn’t suck so hard at Team Fortress 2… then I got good. Really good. Like esports level good. It’s a shame that it didn’t carry over to other games. No one really plays TF2 anymore”
The old man nodded. “I wished my donkey would listen to me for my first wish.” He chuckled a little at the thought.
“What else did you wish for? I mean you obviously know all of mine.”
He looked sadly at me. “I wished for a prosperous farm… and to live forever.”
I cocked my head to the side taking in what he just said. “How long ago was that?”
“Three thousand nine hundred and thirty three years ago” he looked me in the eyes and I could see the wild desperation in his eyes. “I need to wish myself to death. Please tell me which direction it flew off in?” He pleaded but I had no clue. | 243 | Three months ago the world woke up to the news that all nuclear weapons from all countries had misteriously disappeared without trace. A man shows up to your apartment and claims he just discovered how you did it. You sit down and listen to his almost accurate theory. | 581 |
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