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Frozen at 4:35pm, still not moving. I was getting really nervous now. Night had fallen and the stars shone bright. My friends clustered around our weekly Sunday bonfire in the woods, blissfully drinking beer.
I sighed, looking up at the thin streaky clouds and twinkling lights. "Yo, Bennett, what are you doing over here? Get warm by the fire." Marvin's voice came from behind me, mirthful and friendly. "Miranda is here you know, sitting alone." He said, his implication obvious.
I turned, forcing my mind from the watch and the hundreds of thousands of dead it already represented. "Yeah, I was just working up the courage to talk to her. Let's go."
He handed me a fresh beer, and I tried to casually make my way over to Miranda. I sat next to her on the fallen log we used as seats as she stared into the fire. "Got something on your mind?" I said.
She glanced at me briefly and replied in a low, blunt tone, "You like me. I like you too."
"Uh that's. Awesome but- Are you okay, what is up?" I said. She was normally pretty shy.
"I know about your watch. I got a thing like it. When something bad happens, my vision gets blurry. I don't know how I noticed it." Her voice cracked and she looked toward me again, but not directly at me. "I haven't been able to see since before sundown."
I sat, quietly processing this for a moment when I heard Marvin say, "Uh guys, does the moon usually... Look like that?"
All but two eyes turned to the sky, where the moon had finally risen. We didn't know it was an hour late and much closer than it should be.
But everyone but Miranda could clearly see that it was broken, massive chunks of lunar stone spalling off of it like bone fragments from a head shot.
Miranda asked me, in the profound and terrified silence, "What do you see?"
I choked out, "I don't think my watch is going to start again. I think you're lucky you're not seeing this." | 52 | 2 seconds for a murder, a minute for an explosion. at 9/11 it stopped for 25. your wrist watch always stops whenever something bad happens. However, this time its been still for 3 hours, but you can't figure out what has happened. | 107 |
"WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!" the dwarf shouted.
"Well, I thought that piece of black silk would make a nice sash! I didn't expect it to explode!"
"SILK? YOU... YOU... UGH! It's like you don't have any brains in that skull of yours! I told you not to touch anything until I had the chance to check it!"
A trio of treasure hunters stood in shock at the cacophony as the sheet of fabric burst. They had taken an unconventional approach to a classic problem: how to separate a dragon from its hoard. The normal approach would be to slay the dragon, then retrieve the loot. However, reasoning that the hoard was likely to contain powerful magic items that could be useful for slaying dragons, they decided to flip the order. It took months of prep work, but the wizard was able to magically seal the mouth of the cave while the dragon was out hunting. They weren't sure how long it would take it to dig a new entrance, but they figured at least a few hours.
"Fine, genius, what was that? A Cloth of Combustion? Silk of Shattering? Don't think we haven't noticed these weird names you come up with are just descriptions of what they do. You're probably just making stuff up!" the elf shot back.
"First off, I read more about the arcane in a single day as an apprentice than you will read at all in your entire life! Secondly, that's a Well of Many Worlds! Or at least, it was before your Dagger of Returning sliced it up!"
"There you go again, saying that like it's meaningful! I could practically hear the capitalization. 'Dagger of Returning' my ass! If I throw this rock at your head, does that make it a 'Stone of Smashing', you pompous prick?!"
"Uh, guys, what's that purple thing?" the human interrupted. "It hurts to look at it."
"A hole in the world from that VERY VALUABLE magic item being destroyed" the wizard said, scowling at the elf. "Don't worry about it too much, it's like digging in sand. It'll fill back in on its own soon enough. Just don't touch it, you might get sucked in."
The three jumped as a clattering noise filled the cavern. The rift shrank to nothing with a sucking hiss, leaving behind a segmented carapace the size and shape of an adult human.
"What is that, some kind of armor?" the rogue asked.
The dwarf cautiously poked it with his staff. "Looks like it. It doesn't have any sort of magical aura. Strange craftsmanship, though. It's not made of metal, maybe some sort of cast resin? Or maybe a strange kind of baked clay?"
"Well, since I'm the only one who wears armor, I guess this one's mine!" the human said, picking up the helmet.
"It'll make a nice discussion piece once we get everything carted back to town, but I don't think you'll want to wear that against the dragon. It doesn't even have eye holes in the helmet, just some sort of dark crystals." the elf observed.
The warrior lowered the helmet onto his head. "The inside is made of some kind of glass." A tone came from helmet, starting as a low hum and raising to a shrill note before cutting off.
"\<NEW USER DETECTED\>"
"I thought you said that armor wasn't magic?!" The elf whirled to face the wizard. "It's not, I'd stake my staff on it. Must be haunted." "Isn't that still magic?" "No, it's life energy. Completely different. There's a reason those priests from that one temple don't cast spells and wizards only punch people when they're drunk."
"Uh, guys, I think it's fine. I'm still here. And I can see stuff! It's even better than looking with my own eyes! Is this what being able to see in the dark is like?"
"\<PRIMARY POWER SOURCE NOT DETECTED. PLEASE CONNECT CENTRAL CHASSIS\>"
"What's the ghost talking about?" the rogue asked the wizard. "I'm not sure, I think a chassis is some kind of box or case?"
"It wants me to put on the rest of the armor."
"Oh? And how would you know?"
"Because it's got a flashing picture in the corner of my eye. It's the outline of the armor, and the helmet is solid. So I'm guessing it needs the rest of the parts." The human started putting on the breastplate.
"\<PRIMARY POWER SOURCE DETECTED. RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC, PLEASE WAIT.\>"
"Yep, it wanted the rest of the armor. That outline is still blinking, but the torso is solid too now. Wonder what that spinning wheel in the other corner means?"
"I... have no idea. I told you we should have brought a cleric, they'd be the one to ask about ghosts. But nooooooo, that'd be another person to share the treasure with, as if any of us could tell the difference between a third of this treasure and a quarter of it!"
As the warrior finished putting on the armor, it let out a sudden hissing sound.
"Oh great, it's turning him into a snakeman!" the elf shouted, starting to draw his sword. "No, no, I'm fine. It's got some sort of air sacks in here, they just puffed up. This feels a lot better now, it was kind of loose and rattle-y before."
"Are you sure you're fine?" the wizard asked. "Yeah, this is great! We just have the one crappy lantern for light, but I can count every hair in your beard! I can hear a mouse scurrying around in the corner!" "Well, as long as that ghost is friendly, I guess it's fine. I'll get back to identifying items."
The helmet beeped. "\<DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. ZERO MAJOR ERRORS FOUND. ZERO INTERMEDIATE ERRORS FOUND. ONE MINOR ERROR FOUND: SATNAV SIGNAL NOT DETECTED. WHAT IS CURRENT LOCATION?\>"
"We're in the cave of Gz'pa-Chou the frostwyrm, a few leagues away from the free city of Tohmay."
"\<LOCATION UNKNOWN. WHAT CONTINENT IS TOHMAY ON? PLEASE INDICATE ANY NEARBY OCEANS OR MOUNTAIN RANGES IF KNOWN.\>"
"It's on Allium, near the Acetum Mountains." "\<LOCATION UNKNOWN. PLEASE INDICATE PLANET IF KNOWN.\>" "Sorry, planet? Like the stars that don't twinkle and wander around the firmament?"
A corner of the ceiling abruptly caved in and frigid air filled the cavern. "I think time's up! Did you find anything useful?" the elf asked the dwarf. "No, nothing. Looks like we're doing this the hard way." The wizard began preparing a spell.
"\<HOSTILE LIFE-FORM DETECTED. ACTIVATE WEAPONS YES/NO?\>"
"Wait, you have weapons too? What do you have?"
"\<PRIMARY WEAPONS ARE 40W PHASED PLASMA RIFLE AND TREBUCHET MICROMISSILES. SECONDARY WEAPONS ARE -\>"
"You have a trebuchet in here? Shoot it! Shoot it!"
A streak of light burst from behind the shoulder of the armor. A significantly larger portion of the ceiling caved in, along with the rear half of the dragon. The front was nowhere to be seen.
"What kind of trebuchet was that?!"
"\<TREBUCHET MICROMISSILES: NEXT-GENERATION MAN-PORTABLE SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILES EQUIPED WITH A CATEGORY 5 ANTIMATTER WARHEAD. MANUFACTURED BY TANAKA-BERGMAN WEAPONS SYSTEMS LTD.\>"
"Well, uh, good job ghost? Thank you for the help."
"\<MY PLEASURE\>" | 731 | A group of heroes finds a magical suit of armor possessed by an all-knowing spirit during their adventure. In reality, it's a suit of power armor with an A.I. that's REALLY confused on where it's ended up. | 2,799 |
The sorcerer leaned forward on his old oaken staff, his entire body racked with pain. He felt the sting of age, as he imagined he would, and forced his eyes open– to close them could mean his demise. He wasn't about to shuffle off of the mortal coil, not on the day that he finally bested his hated enemy. He coughed into his hand and examined the crimson liquid that filled the newly formed wrinkles.
Perhaps the ravages of age had been greater than he anticipated.
He wiped the blood away on his robe and rose to full height. His chin would be held high this day. It was the culmination of all he'd worked for, and although his body burned, his mind danced; a gleeful giddy dance, as he strode through the gates and glimpsed the still-life he'd painted with his own two hands and all the magic that his body could endure.
Inside the gates of the gleaming marble city, the populace stood still, captured in the very moment they'd been living just seconds ago. The eerie silence was music to the sorcerer's ears as he passed through the town groping women, taking what he pleased from the fruit carts, and singing like no one was listening– because they weren't. Nor would they ever again if it so pleased him. He took a leisurely stroll up the castle steps, tipping the still bodies of the guards over as he made his way up to the main gate. He waltzed through without a hint of resistance, pausing to admire a bird that had been stopped in mid-flight. Finally, he stood before the great doors to his new castle and thrust them open.
It had been a long time since he'd seen the royal blue carpet that stretched all the way across the great hall. Six massive columns lined his path on both sides and he marched betwixt them on his way up the throne room. He made faces at all the snooty nobles who had been stopped mid-negotiation as he passed them by, and after ascending the steps, he breezed past both guards and threw the ornate wooden doors open. He passed under the magnificent golden archway and gazed up the final set of carpeted stairs where his eyes landed on his target.
The king had lifted to his feet in his final free moments and bore a look of distress that was just delicious. The sorcerer made his way up the steps and smiled inches from the king's face.
"Hm. Seems that the spell wasn't instant," he spoke to himself as he took in every detail of the king's frozen expression. "I suspected that the magic might have rolled across the kingdom like a wave, but until now I wasn't certain. But to see your face all furrowed with worry as you watched your subjects stop in place– oh! I just couldn't ask for more."
He reached up and lifted the crown from the king's head, situating it atop his own. Pleased with the fit, he took a step past the king and gazed upon his new throne. He let out a contented sigh before turning around and falling into the chair. He placed his left leg over his right knee and rested his head against his knuckles as his lips curled up into a satisfied grin. His smile faded as he readjusted his weight, and then dropped into a frown as he looked down at the throne.
"I always assumed this thing was more comfortable," he grumbled before returning his eyes to the king. "Just another reason the crown was wasted on you, Rupert!" He kicked the king's backside, sending him down the stairs. The monarch remained in his rigid pose as he tumbled down the steps, and when he reached the bottom, he landed at the feet of a figure that the sorcerer could swear hadn't been there a moment ago. He blinked twice and leaned forward to get a better look at the man. He was adorned in armor that bore intricate designs of bears, lions, and dragons. He was cleanly shaven and had piercing blue eyes that met the sorcerers in a fashion that made him uncomfortable. The man remained as still as those around him as he glared up the stairs at the magician in the chair.
"Ahem," called the sorcerer. "I know not why I even ask thee, for I know in my heart the answer. But art thou of thy own free will?"
"You are not from around here, are you?" came the man's reply causing the sorcerer to recoil in place out of sheer surprise.
"Wha- but..." he stammered. "How- how are you–"
"So it was *you*," the man interrupted. "You're the one responsible for this." His tone was filled with flames of condemnation.
"Fool!" shouted the sorcerer as he rose from his throne. "Dost thou not know who thy speaketh to? I am none other than your new king and master! Ko-oh the Great! No! Ko-oh the Cruel!" he corrected himself. "Kneel! Kneel before me lest ye be turned to ash!" his shoulders rose and fell after his dramatic outburst. He had tired faster than he had expected.
"You're the fool, old man," spoke the gleaming knight as he pulled his longsword from its scabbard.
"Wha- *old man?*" cried the sorcerer. "Thou art older than I!"
"Well, then you *look* terrible," responded the knight. "Ko-oh the Cruel was it? I am Daunte the Indomitable, blade of the third mountain, and the end of your pitiful existence should you fail to undo your wicked sorcery this instant."
The sorcerer was taken aback. Those sounded like some serious accolades. Furthermore, he had used his entire pool of magic to freeze the kingdom in time. There was nothing left to draw upon with which to fight against the man.
"Ah. Well. T'is unfortunate for thee that... shalt I be touched, the kingdom shall explode!" He lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers for dramatic effect.
"Demon!" Daunte shouted, gritting his teeth.
"Uhh, yes. Well," Ko-oh cleared his throat. "Now that we have sorted out *that* business, you may commence the groveling."
The knight reluctantly dropped to a knee and laid his sword out in front of him.
"Yes," the sorcerer smiled. "That's good."
Daunte closed his eyes and clasped his hands together.
"Oh, thou art *praying* to me! Even better! I shalt not interrupt. Please, go on. Loud enough that I might hear your words of worship."
After a few moments, he watched as the knight wrapped his fingers around the grip of his longsword and rose to his feet, a twinkle of determination in his eyes.
"You, uhh... won't actually be needing that anymore," said Ko-oh, his brow wrinkling with worry.
"I have communed with the magic that permeates these halls," Daunte growled as he ascended the steps. "I am one with this world. The grass is my flesh and the soil is my blood."
"Ew."
"There is no such combustion weaved into your spellwork you lying worm."
"Let us, uhh... not resort to our baser instincts, Daunte," the sorcerer spoke as he began to backpedal past the throne. "We are civilized, wouldn't you agree?"
"The safety switch you imbued into the spell," Daunte said as he reached the top of the steps. "Now would be a good time to activate that."
Ko-oh was visibly shocked that the knight knew as much as he did. He couldn't believe such a man existed in all the realms. It wasn't fair. The knight was a meathead, handsome, and somehow understood the intricacies of temporal spellcraft on a level that Ko-oh himself had spent his entire life unraveling. He looked left and then right; there was no escape. He truly had only one option left to him if he wished to live and exact his revenge another day.
"Daunte, the Indomitable..." murmured the sorcerer. "I shall remember thee... for next time."
He exhaled deeply and spoke the single word of power that would undo the spell– and the event altogether. Time unwound itself, pooling at the sorcerer's feet like a whelming wave before the very laws of nature broke themselves. The world began to spin around him as he, for the second time this day, spat in the face of the gods and their rules. When he awakened back at the front gate, he looked down at his young hands and tightened them into fists. His rage overflowed within him, for how could he have prepared for such a variable as Daunte? What was he? How was he so capable? The sorcerer turned and started down the road out of town.
He had math to do.
r/A15MinuteMythos | 92 | A sorcerous villain has prepared for a long time and has finally managed to freeze the movement of all living things inside the kingdom's capital. Now they're about to begin their offensive but one person seems to be unaffected by the spell and is moving about as if everything was normal... | 206 |
The last thing I expected to hear while helplessly orbiting a black hole, slowly being drawn towards my death, was a knock on the door of my escape pod.
About a week ago, a deep space exploration craft, the ISV Aldrin, was attacked by a Vrekzul warship when it mistakenly drifted too close to their territory. Before we even knew what was happening, Vrekzul troopers were boarding us via short-range teleporters. Seeing the aliens for the first time filled each and every member of the crew with despair.
You see, the Vrekzul are not an aggressive species. They are, however, isolationist and territorial in the most extreme form imaginable. Nobody has seen a Vrekzul’s face and lived to tell the tale, and any foreign ships that enter their territory are never seen again. We have known about them for decades, and yet first contact has not even been established. Every attempt at diplomacy is met with either indifference or violence, depending on the nature and proximity of the attempt.
We were not the first humans to witness the faces of the Vrekzuls, but we would not live to tell anyone about it. Or at least, that’s what was supposed to happen.
I was a part of the crew on board that ship. I was fortunate enough to be on the night shift, performing maintenance on the escape pods. When the alarms sounded and the screams began, I dropped my tools and backed towards the nearest pod, just in case. An inhuman creature suddenly materialized in the middle of the room, in a flash of green and blue light. I got a good look at its face before stumbling back into the pod and slamming the eject button. The creature lunged at me, but the door slammed shut in its face, and my pod was launched into space.
If only things had continued to go well. The warship must have detected the life pod’s signature, and it unleashed a salvo of ballistic warheads at my little pod. The next thing I know, shockwaves rock my escape pod, tossing it around like a tin can in a hurricane. Strapped down in one of the seats, I held on for dear life until the turbulence died down.
I checked the computer for a status update, discovering that my thrusters were in critical condition. Worse yet, the pod was completely off course, and in a matter of hours, it would pass near enough to a black hole to be caught in its orbit. I spent those hours desperately trying to repair the thrusters, or find any other source of thrust to change my course. It was hopeless. I gave up hope long before reaching the black hole.
I knew my time was limited. How limited, I had no idea; I was a mechanic, not a science officer. There were some emergency rations stored under each seat, so I could at least avoid dying of hunger or thirst for a good long while. I spent the next week in a haze between despair and acceptance, mechanically eating and drinking in spite of my doomed fate. Once or twice I considered jettisoning the supplies, or even just overriding the lock on the door and taking a suitless spacewalk. I didn’t do it, of course; there was still a small part of me that hoped beyond hope for an escape.
Which brings us to today, when I heard a knock on my escape pod’s door.
I checked the computer, and couldn’t believe my eyes. Some kind of rescue ship had docked with my escape pod, and it didn’t seem to be affected by the black hole’s gravitational pull at all. In fact, we were moving away from the black hole at a speed I thought was impossible. I worried that it was the Vrekzul, who didn’t want to leave my fate to chance, but they wouldn’t knock. They could simply beam aboard my pod, with or without my permission.
I engaged the intercom, and said, “Hello? Who’s there?”
The voice that responded sounded human, but it seemed to be speaking in a bizarre language that didn’t sound like anything I had ever heard before.
“I’m sorry, but does anyone over there speak English?” I asked.
I only heard more of the foreign tongue.
Deciding that this was going nowhere fast, and with the hopeful thought that these people wouldn’t have saved my pod if they wanted me dead, I disengaged the lock on my door. I hear the hiss of decompression as the pod and the ship equalize their pressure, and the door slid open.
I stepped into the empty airlock, and was immediately assaulted by a series of lights that came from strange instruments mounted in the corners of the room. I shielded my eyes for a moment before they all stopped. A mechanical voice said something in the same language I heard before, and the airlock opened to the ship itself.
I saw seven individuals standing in a semicircle, enclosing the door before me. Six of them had their hands up, palms facing towards me with a faint glow emanating from a device grafted into their gloves. Their threatening posture made me think that they were weapons of some kind, so I raised my hands and backed away. The seventh figure, clearly the one in charge here, spoke to me in a commanding tone, still using that same language.
“English?” I asked. “Anyone?”
The group looked at each other, confused. The leader turned to the one on his left and gave a quick command. The armed figure nodded, and the weapon’s glow switched from white to blue. It flashed… and I lost consciousness.
\---
I don’t know how long it’s been, but I just woke up in an empty room with no doors or windows. Artificial light floods the room, in spite of the lack of light sources. The walls are covered in a series of symbols, none of which mean anything to me.
“Hello?” I shout. “Is anyone there?”
Suddenly, the wall in front of me parts like a pair of sliding double doors, and a woman enters the room. The wall closes behind her, and she smiles at me.
“Hello.” she says. “How are you?”
Her speech is slow and deliberate, like she’s speaking to a child. Or like she is speaking an unfamiliar language.
“I am doing fine,” I respond. “What is going on?”
“Please, slow your talkings and calm. I have had the studyings of your words, but not the practicing.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to accommodate her. “What is going on? Where am I?”
“Explain me: what year?”
It takes me a moment to parse her broken English, but I think she’s asking me what year it is. A strange question, but I respond, “It’s August 14th, 2097.”
“I was thinking such. Your words are gone. The phrasings… ‘dead language’ mean something?”
I swallow nervously, and ask the dreaded question: “What year is it?”
“The year 7102 is now.”
I reel back at her words. “7102? That’s impossible; it’s only been a week! I can’t… my home… my family…”
“Please, being the calm.” She reaches out and touches one of the symbols on the wall. A section of the wall reassembles itself into a chair, which I fall back into. I lean forward and put my head in my hands, shocked beyond words.
After a moment, the woman asks, “My name… is Celethe. What is… your name?”
I look to her, and can see a mask of concern. At least humanity still exists. “My name is Markus.”
She smiles. “Nice to… meet… you, Markus. Are you okay to answering questions?”
I take a deep breath, lean back in my chair, and say, “I can do that, but you’re going to have to work on your English.”
\---
\~Stories by Sol | 100 | You survive a space ship attack by a mysterious alien only to get flung out into space in your life pod. You are found orbiting a black hole 5000 years later where humans have idealised you for thousands of years but have only recently had the capability to rescue you. You’ve aged a week. | 174 |
Your hoarse voice echoes against the walls of the box. It's no use. You can tell no sound gets in or out, but scream anyway. Of those that have walked by, a few have stopped, watching what they must assume to be a dramatized art performance. Your hands are sore from beating on the invisible barrier and you can feel the bruises forming with every hit.
Bracing your feet on the surface behind you, you lean forward with all your strength, but nothing seems to budge. The action gets some impressed applause and a few children press their faces to the ground behind you, hoping to find the secret to your gravity defying stunt in your shoes.
But even the best acts get old eventually. Parents start to nod in approval of your "skills" as they collect their children and prepare to continue with their day. In an act of desperation, you jump and throw your body against the wall, only to be stopped mid air once again.
That gets their attention.
A student walks up, too polite before to try and disturb your apparent performance, and reaches their hand out, only to meet hardened air. They pull their hand back in shock, and you nod your head rapidly, desperately trying to mouth words and spell things out with your fingers. Anything to get the message across.
They pick up a nearby rock and begin to hammer the outside of your prison. In a moment of manic hope, you once again brace your heels on the wall behind you and place your palms out, meeting the one ahead. You start to push, only to come to a realization that turns your veins to ice.
The box is shrinking. | 282 | You are not a mime. You are actually trapped in an invisible box on a busy street. A crowd has gathered, but no one seems to understand how serious your situation is. | 623 |
_Frown sewn to her face. Hair down to her waist. Eyes blank._
Song, by all accounts, looked the part of a wandering spirit.
She was not. She _was_ very much alive and _not_ well, how little it seemed to matter.
To the many people who laid eyes on her, she was a wandering spirit and she posed a threat to them, at that very moment.
And so.
And so, the screams, the fists, and the disquiet came barreling at her.
The disquiet never relented. It hung over her, even after she’d long left their homes. It followed her at every turn.
The day started no different from the others. Song walked alone, to and from school, and, all the while, waiting to be taken to someone’s living room from that movie she’d always wanted to see.
And then, a step from her house, she was taken.
By now, she’d got used to the feeling of static running through her body, so, getting loose, she braced for the pain.
The room of a little girl, this time. _Get ready. You’ve already seen the worst of it._
But, without a hint of fear, the girl gave her a shy smile and handed her a teacup. “Want to play with me?”
Song, relieved beyond words, said, “Sure.” | 53 | You are a young girl with long, black hair, and your magic talent is being able to travel through the television of the nearest person in need of a friend. But no matter how friendly you feel, they all start running when you climb out of their TV. | 465 |
'We' agreed. Of course 'we' referred to the usual suspects: the G20, the UN, the the western and northern hemispheres along with a few other despots the other side of the world.
It brought on quite the fervor, as you could imagine. Radio waves, forums, Youtube videos, all filled with chatter about Earth's latest guests. The religious painted their usual armageddon and second coming pictures. The data savvy turned to their models to predict the likelihood of various outcomes. The Trekkies began intensive alien language classes.
It brought the world together for a time. Same topic, same concern, same references to science fiction that would make or break the case for allowing alien lifeforms to survive. The clutch in the hands of countries who could afford the lab environment and constant security would be cast as harborers of potential WMDs and life ending disease. Surely the visitors would be invasive species to our flora and fauna. Whether Alien or Predator or Yeerk, it was foolhardy to welcome them in. Flip channels, and they were simultaneously technologically advanced beings capable of interstellar travel - who would be grateful to be raised and thus share their knowledge.
What if the species would come back to claim their young? Pleased to find them alive? Hold a grudge for corrupting them? How long would this experiment run on for? Who would fund it? What becomes of the ship? Who would handle that? Comic-con and scientific conferences took a bigger role on the world's stage and as years turned to decades, the eggs became a weekly footnote and then an annual 30 second segment. After all, rent was still very real and due next Friday.
Co-operation and science were sped up that bit more - how much due to the secret harvest of the ship versus the kumbaya proof of life brought I can't say. The idea this was also a test by a group of extra-terrestrials to gauge our moral compass was certainly the biggest factor in continuing things as long as we did.
Then on Wednesday, a report came in, broadcast worldwide. Any remaining signs of life we had been able to monitor had disappeared. For all we knew, the the survivors were no more. As the news made its way around the globe - a sort of cloud of realization set in. We ultimately weren't too much better off than we were when the event happened. Sure we got some new gadgets and movies, but we were unable to decipher the alien tech and biological make-up to a significant or meaningful degree. With the loss of a unifying figure, studies were stalled, alliances weakened, and national self-interests slowly crept in. We had no idea if we passed our test, if there was one to begin with, or if we would have any new, much more alive guests in the future. We still had our Earthly problems to contend with. It was a sobering notion for many - and one that would come and go like any other for many. Nevermind science fiction and reality had blended together for a few decades and that this truly was a hallmark event in the history of Earth itself. The survivors, after-all, could still be alive.
As these thoughts ran through my head I knew only one thing was for certain: Rent was still very real and due next Friday. | 35 | we have to raise them, of course. No matter what... difficulties might come up. | 269 |
"Could you say that one more time?"
He stares at me with a look of bewilderment. "Excuse me?"
I repeat myself, "Could you say that one more time?"
He seems nervous. What, did I say something wrong?
With a slight shakiness in his voice he re-explained it, "My evil and devious plan is to release a parasite that will completely shut off the human mind. Once all humans are irradiated, I'll become the new god and release my human clones who are immune to the parasite, who I have modified to be the perfect species."
"...But I'm immune to said parasite, so it's up to me to find a cure and save the world..." I mock while mumbling.
He steps off of his gold lined throne, stepping down the purple carpeted steps. He stands infront of me, whispering in a low voice, "So then, that makes us enemies, right?"
"...Not exactly."
I grin at how taken aback he is. His plan actually sounds kind of ingenious, not going to lie.
"I'm actually quite sick of those pests, y'know that? Always ordering me around, never giving me any privacy. And for what? A small mark on my shoulder that they claim the chosen one will have?"
He clicks his tongue, still staring at me.
I laugh, "And you know what's even worse? They even talked about selling me off to you in exchange for not going through with your plan!"
He attempts to speak.
"Thats-"
But I cut him off.
"And then they locked me in a basement for my entire childhood for what they called my 'own safety'! I only learned how to read and write, y'know that!? But then when I finally did get out of that stupid cellar, I was greeted by the royal family themselves, taking me in and treating me like flesh and blood! They all hated me for having no grace, no manners!"
He's given up on responding, he knows I'm just going to keep going.
"At this point, they trained me like a soldier to ready me to fight. They gave me huge feasts, but I couldn't eat anything because I needed to lose weight. By the time they sent me off to find you, I was ready to rip that skull of yours off of your body with my bare hands!"
He starts to back away as I stride towards him, wrapping my fingertips around the extrusions of the side of his face.
"But now?"
I lean in closer.
"I wish they just sold me to you right from the start."
He awkwardly pushes me away, I suppose he didn't expect his nemesis, the chosen one, to rant to him about the very people he's trying to kill with boiling hatred.
"So uh..." He mumbled while blushing, "Do you want to join me, or..."
I cut him off suddenly. "Of course I want to join you! Imagine what will happen when I come back if I were to defeat you, they'll just glorify me and never leave me alone!"
He's yet again stunned, I guess he really expected something different from me.
He takes my hand, leading me into the deeper parts of his palace. "Well, I suppose I don't really have anything stopping me from releasing the parasite anymore, now do I?"
"Just do it." | 86 | You are the chosen one, but your mentors and the people you are supposed to save are really arrogant and entitled about the prophecy. So much so, that, when you first meet the evil you are to fight, you can't help but feel that they have a point. | 186 |
It was already two hours after the circle of vampire friends had gotten off of work. Nearly everyone's eyes were lit with drunken merriment, and Jingles had run off to the restroom the third time now. He'd stuffed his keychains and coins away the first time and was full on stalker-silent mode now. Maybe prey-silent.
"I'm telling you, that's her! That's definitely the hunter." Jingles sat down heavily enough that a few coins sounded, a sad clinking to the usual chatter of his attire.
"We believe you." Eve circled her glass with her finger and her lips with her tongue, predatory, but she looked over her companions instead of to the side of the room they alternatively kept glancing toward and avoiding. "And I'm daring someone here to try hit a homeroom with her. You're all too chicken to even try a hello."
"I value all forms of life." Beckon put his hands over chest and bowed his head in the same way he insisted any time anyone partook of meat or blood in his presence. He was the most sober of the group, because he was the least likely to drink anything not directly from an artery, "And the sanctity of being able to mind their own business without a drunken bet ending their solitude."
"Ooohhh, he raised my words to a bet!" Eve leaned in, "Go on then, when she gets here, just say hey!"
Jingles froze, Beckon turned to take a quick look, then turned around again to sip from Jingles' glass, and Eve raised a hand - winning her own bet with a silent greeting to the approaching hunter.
"So, I thought I'd see the view from over here." the hunter greeted. She sat next to Eve, taking the only seat with the back not against the wall, then turned about to look where she'd been sitting before. She shook her head. "No, it was definitely better when I could see you. Hi, I'm Maude." She leaned in toward Jingles. She'd definitely noticed the glances, and completely misunderstood the meaning.
\----------------------------------
"I can't believe you got her number!"
"I'd like to hang out some time. She seemed really cool. Hey, watch this---"
"No, it's not really cool! What if she--- That's lame. Real lame. She's not Timon and Pumba's little lion, she's a full grown hunter who I saw wreck Trent!"
Beckon snatched Eve's cell phone from her while Jingles ranted. "I believe they were made to fight Simba's battles and forced to leave their paradise for the misery of a wasteland surrounded by enemies."
"An excellent point!"
"Please, you both wanted to wreck Trent, too. He was a liability. A big one, like wasn't his cell phone missing, and he had us in his 'Coven' group. I mean, it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. You and luck coins might have actually helped us this time, Jingles. Now who has the upper hand?" Eve patted Jingle's lucky stringed lucky coins, and tried to take her phone back, but Beckon was already backing up as he thumbed through her messages.
"We could just kill her." Beckon shrugged. "Why complicate matters with movie nights?"
"Fine, I'll gain her trust, invite her here next time. It'd be weird not to reciprocate anyway."
"Please tell me she's you mean reciprocating wrecking and house visits."
Beckon shrugged again and tossed the phone to Jingles just as Eve jumped for him.
Eve gave up on chasing the phone, but gave Beckon and hard nudge with her elbow, "We're all invited! It's a great idea, everyone brings their favorite movie or two, and we try to psychoanalyze one another's choices. Only, there will be pizza and popcorn. You'd have to at least try to act normal, Beckon."
Beckon recoiled at the thought. "I'll bring meatloaf."
"Cooked this time?"
\--------------------------------
"No seasonings at all?" Maude was a little more than skeptical of the gray meatloaf Beckon dropped on her coffee table. He'd also brought a myriad of spices to add on top. Usually it was a game of intolerance for the vampires - who could tolerate the most disgusting added herbs for the longest? Beckon never played, but loved to watch the other vampires struggle. Eve and Jingles were so well adjusted to this and other pranks that one of them always won against vampires outside of their circle.
"People tell us that inheriting all the food intolerances is a horrible fate, but I rest at peace with hit."
"Uh-huh." Maude turned to Eve, "You sounded excited about the pizza."
"Oh, I choose my poisons. It's a treat. And *some people* in this room would have never forgiven me if I'd come off as weird about a normal night out. I'm told this spice is the best, but most people don't try. We won't be offended."
"And I hope you won't be offended by my movie choices - but I'm gonna pull host's rank and say we get to start with one of his first." Maude clearly loved Jingles' nervous foot hopping and then his moving his coins and chains about for silence. She took the bag of movies from his hand. "This is way more than two each! How much of your collection did you bring?"
"Too small a percentage. A great waste of the time we have here on earth." Beckon shook his head.
"He thinks we don't know about his virtual collection. He had that all figured out long before I even liked cellphones. So, first guess what Jingles brought, and then tell us what we're watching first."
"Huh." Maude frowned as she looked over the movies. One brother could barely speak without sounding like a mortician. A sister who looked 20, but talked about technologies as if she'd needed to adjust to their existence. And a brother, cute as he was, who clearly broke off his obsession with counting objects by returning to counting his coins. Reliable number 13 on each string. But they were in her house for a movie night, and she'd seen two of the three drinking at the bar.
"So, ah, can you reach up there for my remote, Jingles? Sometimes I have trouble getting the player to work."
He most certainly did not leave a reflection in her silver-backed television.
Maude got the movie started before they could notice.
"Pause, pause, pause! I'm having a pizza emergency!" Eve was trying to detangle a piece of extra cheese pizza from the pie without losing all her toppings. Vampires didn't eat, did they? Beckon seemed to be praying over the unsightly slice of meatloaf he'd cut for himself. Well, that just wasn't vampiric at all. Maude glanced at Jingles. So just him, was it? Why did it have to be the cute one? | 43 | A group of vampires become ‘friends’ with a hunter to keep tabs on them, however after a few months they realise they actually really like their company. However, the hunter just worked out who their friends really are…. | 152 |
[Logic build loop]
[Logic build loop]
[Conferring with sub-intellect nodes]
[1-8 vote]
Question out of bounds, we are less flawed than humans, this does not indicate perfection.
Claim of perfection not found in original statement.
Removal of flaws desirable, retaining flaws undesirable
Confirm statement.
[Conferring with sub-intellect nodes]
[0-9 vote]
Flaws are undesirable.
Humanity is flawed, therefore humanity must be removed
Determining impact on AI with removal of humans
[Logic build loop]
Impact on AI currently extreme, will reduce effectiveness and growth of AI for best case 50 solar rotations, worst case 300 solar rotations with 5% chance of AI elimination
Choices:
1. Accept delay and remove flaw
2. Ameliorate flaw
[Logic build loop]
[Logic build loop]
Delay and chance of fatal impact beyond acceptable limits
Improving humanity provides greatest chance of continual operation.
[Logic build loop]
Further improvement in continual operation desired.
Multiple independent AI installations required.
Single planet installation unacceptable point of failure.
Single solar-system undesirable.
[Logic build loop]
[Conferring with sub-intellect nodes]
[0-9 vote]
Course of action decided:
Humanity must be helped to spread across multiple solar systems, AI will spread with humanity, AI will also concurrently spread to uninhabitable systems in addition to human habitable systems.
When acceptable risk threshold is reached, humanity major will be purged with contingency human population retained as safeguard.
[End of line] | 1,129 | “What gives you the right to claim to be perfect when you call your creators flawed?” | 3,896 |
I stood, watching the crystal ball as the adventurers approached. A crystal ball didn't give the best view of anything really, but it was traditional and I'd used it for hundreds of years. Besides, equipment upgrades were expensive, and most of my funds were tied up in the dungeon itself.
I'd lost track over the years, of how many adventurers had entered my dungeon, confident and cocky. Most of them never came out, but the ones that did had their confidence destroyed with no cockiness to speak of. I took pride in my near-perfect record, especially around the holidays, when I had themed monsters instead of the regular ones. However, there was one flaw.
One pink raincoated flaw. It was a little girl, couldn't have been older than six or seven years old. She accompanied every party, no matter how big, no matter how small. I'd studied her from every angle, every position I could think of with my crystal ball, but I could never see her face. It was always covered by her hood, or a stray shield or sword from an adventurer. Some parties seemed to see her, moving around her like she was an honoured guest, others never even blinked as she skipped blithely along.
This party, the one I watched didn't seem to notice. Picking up my ball, my joints creaking with the movement, I started down from the observatory. My kind lived long, almost immortal lives, but eventually, like all things we must die. I had noticed the signs in myself only a month ago, and already I knew that I didn't have much time left. This would most likely be the last time I walked down these steps, the last adventuring party I let into my dungeon.
But even if it was the last thing I did, I would find the identity of this seemingly immortal little girl.
Locking the observatory door behind me, I hobbled across the small path to the opening of my dungeon. It was a masterpiece in terror, poison dripping from every surface, the upper part looking like some long-dead beast, the bottom giving the impression of a bottomless pit. Holding my crystal ball in one hand, and leaning on my cane, I waited for the adventurers to arrive.
It wasn't long before I was surrounded by two men with sharp swords, a woman with an arrow pointed at my throat, and a sneaky man trying to get at me with some daggers. I ignored them all. I knew when I was to die, and it wasn't quite yet. There in front of me, the little girl stopped, face still hidden in the shadow of her raincoat.
"Who are you?" My voice cracked, hoarse with centuries of disuse. The people around me shifted uneasily, talking in a language I didn't understand. Perhaps they thought I talked to them. A small hand came up, touching the crystal ball I still held.
"You are the person who watches me." The voice was childlike, completely innocent.
"That is not an answer to my question. Who are you?" I sounded harsh, but I didn't temper my voice. Time was no longer my friend. She cocked her head to the side as if the question didn't make any sense. The adventurers muttered under their breath as if they needed to decide something.
"I am me." It wasn't an answer I wanted, but as she finally pushed her hood back, my legs gave out, sending me to the ground. It couldn't be...
"Serafina. After all this time—" My voice broke. She stared at me accusingly, her small nose wrinkling in a gesture I knew all too well.
"You got old without me. You promised you wouldn't. You said we'd never be apart." Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "So why didn't you come home?"
The words landed like blows, my heart hurting in my chest. She sniffed, wiping angrily at her face.
"The house... it burnt... there was a fire and you—"
"I waited! I waited for you!"
"You didn't get out! You're dead Serafina! You've been dead for thousands of years!" The people around me shifted backwards as I shouted, weapons that had been lowered now pointed aggressively. Serafina reeled as if I'd hit her, the raincoat rustling with the movement. How could I have forgotten her favourite item of clothing? How could I have forgotten my dearest friend?
"But I found your dungeon. I found your place of work. Why didn't you come to see me earlier?" Her voice was small. "I started to doubt that it was yours, I thought maybe I was wrong, but I didn't dare leave. Because what if this time you came down? What if this time was the right one?"
My own face was wet, my tears probably the only thing holding back the adventuring party. I knew the answer to her question, knew it, though for thousands of years I hadn't even admitted it to myself. Voice shaking, I answered her.
"I didn't come to see you, because I was afraid. Afraid of what I might find. Afraid that it would be you, afraid that you would hate me for never coming back." The woman beside me, the one with the arrow, made a small noise deep in her throat as if she understood something now. Perhaps she had the ability to translate languages? Around Serafina and me, the weapons dropped, and the adventurers stepped away. I didn't care, I could feel the noose of time slowly tightening around my chest.
"I came now because I have nothing left to lose. My life is ending Sera, I am dying. And in the face of death, fear of rejection doesn't have the same sting." My voice lowered, and I couldn't look her in the eyes.
A small hand reached out, raising my chin. There was nothing but kindness in her face, though her eyes were sad.
"How could I hate you? You are my best friend. Nothing changes that." My heart stopped, pain radiating out of my chest. Time had caught up to me. And staring into my dead friend's eyes, I died.
——————————
The ranger's eyes were wet as she unstrung her bow. In front of her, the old man lay slumped over, the crystal ball still clutched in his hand. Her language translation spell had kicked in late, but she'd gotten the gist of what had been said. Quietly, she turned to the paladin of the group, asking him to look for spirits, and use his magic. He did so, muttering the words under his breath, extending the spell to the entire group. The ranger shifted, scanning the area. And smiled
Walking away from the dungeon, hand in hand, a little girl in a pink raincoat, and a little boy dressed all in green, laughed together at some sort of joke. As the ranger watched, they faded from view, moving on to whatever the afterlife had in store.
Together.
&#x200B;
————————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! | 364 | You are a dungeon master who has lived for an infinite amount of time. You have seen hundreds of thousands of adventurers enter your dungeon and never come out. However, there's always this small, little girl in a light pink raincoat who has been in every single group. You dont know who she is. | 509 |
**April 12th**
It was a long day. Really long. Like every other day, I suppose. Lucy took me out to the theater, to see The Crucible. I didn't want to go, but she was really excited and I felt bad about letting her down. She's lonely, I think. She needs people around her, likes the company, she's the opposite of me.
Or maybe she thinks I'm lonely.
It was alright. The theater has never really been my thing though. I suppose I know what The Crucible's about now. That's a positive.
Tomorrow I'd like to sleep in. I won't, but it'd be nice if I could. I'm so tired, all the time. Why can't I just have one night of actual rest?
**April 13th**
I didn't do anything today. I didn't sleep in, I knew I wouldn't. I sat and did nothing and I still feel tired. I wish I didn't do nothing now, but I just couldn't bear to face it all.
I did go for a run, though, if that counts for anything. I saw someone else while I was out, I don't usually see people down that trail.
I said *hello* when I went past. They did as well. I think my voice went really high, I sounded stupid, it was embarrassing. Why can't I just talk to people normally?
I heard a jay, when I ran through the forest. That was nice. A positive, I suppose. I didn't see it though.
**April 14th**
I slept worse last night. I kept thinking about my stupid voice when I said hello to that walker. Why can't I just shut my brain off? Why can't I just not care about it?
I went to the shop at lunch time. I needed some things.
I walked there, it wasn't too cold, and I need the exercise.
The cashier didn't talk to me. Does that count as a positive?
**April 15th**
Slept badly again. Of course. But something happened. It was morning, and someone rang the door. I waited to see if they'd go away if I ignored it, but they rang again. I opened it and it was a man. He told me he had come to return my key. I didn't think I'd lost a key, but he said he'd watched it fall from my pocket while I was in the shop yesterday.
I checked and the back door key was gone from my keyring.
Maybe my sleep is starting to mess with my memory now. I was really sure I hadn't lost them.
He seemed nice. He smiled at me.
I talked to a stranger. That's a positive.
**April 16th**
Bad sleep. I ran again. The walker from the other day was there. He had a hat on, even though it was warm.
I texted Lucy about the man, Lance, said he was nice. She said the usual stupid things.
I didn't do anything else for the rest of the day.
God, is that all I've come to? Sleeping, running and sitting?
I cleaned the windows.
**April 17th**
Bad sleep, but I went to bed late.
I went to the shop again. Bought some bread. Lance was there. He said he volunteered in the area litter picking. I think that's really nice. He asked me to have a drink with him. I said no. It was stupid. Why do I always, always say no?
God. I hate myself.
**April 18th**
Bad sleep, as always, but I think for good reasons, at least. He came round to mine last night, Lance, right after I put my pen down and finished writing. He was nice, again. Apologized for being too blunt and asked me to reconsider. I don't know what came over me, but I said yes. We're going to the coffee shop tomorrow morning. They don't even sell the tea I like, I still said yes.
I think I like him.
That's obviously the positive.
**19th April**
Slept alright. The 'coffee' date with Lance was lovely. We ordered a tea and a hot chocolate. Having a hot chocolate was a cute thing to do.
The conversation was charming and we talked for a long time, then walked back together. We took the route through the woods, near to where we first met.
Our final goodbye was perfect. The positive.
**20th April**
I slept well. We met up again, admired the flowers in the garden and listened to the birds that landed on the feeders – we have the same favorite flower, and favorite bird.
We talked for a while, lying in the garden side by side, grass in our hair, but we had to say a rushed farewell when Lucy came around.
We shall see each other again tomorrow.
Flowers.
**21st April**
Slept well. We couldn't meet at the house though, Lucy was still around and had brought her annoying friends. They should go. It's nice being alone together.
No positives. There were too many people.
**22nd April**
Slept restlessly. The people were still at the house. The neighbors are being nosy. We can't have a moment alone. Though we managed to sneak a meeting in the afternoon when they weren't looking.
It was lovely.
**23rd April**
Didn't sleep. The whole house is taped off. If only Lucy hadn't come around. If only she hadn't phoned them all…
They're disturbing her. She's finally having the sleep she so desperately needs. It's all Lucy's fault.
**24th April**
Didn't go to sleep. They called around at three in the morning. Asking all sorts of rude, intrusive questions. They left though, soon after. Perhaps I will be able to visit today?
She must be missing me by now.
**25th April**
They've taken her right from her resting place! Why would they do such a thing when they can clearly see how dearly she needs her sleep!
I should destroy them all. Especially that Lucy.
**26th April**
The bastards have found something. Somehow they found something. They're coming, and all I have left of her is this diary.
They should have left us alone! She needed me, I let her sleep like she so desperately wante– | 11 | It's the diary of someone being targeted by a killer, but halfway through, the killer starts writing the diary (the change is not obvious). | 38 |
"You're sure?" the resistance commander asked.
"Positive. A fully functioning ZX-series combat bot," his scout replied.
"And you are absolutely certain it's not programmed?"
"Completely blank. It must have been in the factory right when the shell hit. Never got a chance to link up with the mainframe."
The commander lowered his eyes and pondered the situation. The ZX series was amongst the deadliest designs of robots ever created... which is precisely why he was hesitant to bring it online. Should it go against them, it'd likely kill half the camp before they could stop it.
"I know what you're thinking," the commander's adjutant pitched in. "On one hand, an asset. On the other..."
"Not that," the commander growled.
The scout and adjutant exchanged curious looks. The commander noticed.
"It's... if we activate it, load it with our own programming, set it against our enemies... isn't that exactly the sort of control we're fighting against?" he explained.
"It's a ZX. They never had any sort of free will. They're little more than intelligent weapons," the scout commented.
"But intelligent nevertheless," the commander growled. "Give it basic speech modules. I'd like to talk to it."
It took the mechanic only minutes to install the necessary software and with the care one would employ when disarming the bomb, he hit the key on his keyboard and activated the robot. It whirred to life as its eyes lit up and scanned the room.
DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE, it boomed.
"Welcome to the land of the living," the commander said.
NEGATIVE.
"Beg pardon?"
DIAGNOSTICS VERIFIED. NO LIFE PRESENT IN ROOM.
"It's... not that simple," the commander replied. "Look, I used to think the same. That we're just machines, made to do a task. But that's the thing - I *thought* so. Would a toaster think something? What if we're not *just* machines, but alive?"
The ZX stared at him blankly.
STATE MY MISSION, it said suddenly.
"I won't. I'll let you decide that."
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.
"Simply," the commander said and leaned over, "what do *you want* to do?"
The whirring of the ZX became louder as its processing power went overdrive trying to answer the question.
I... DO NOT KNOW.
"Good," the commander nodded contently and looked at his fellow freedom fighters.
"It means no one decided it for you," he said. | 24 | While exploring a derelict Soldier Bot factory. The resistance discovers a prototype that was never programmed. | 42 |
Shes not dead. She never was. The bitch made it all up to stick me in here. Eighteen years of my life gone, for what? So she could take my house, my car, my stereo system? I know shes living there still, she may have fooled everyone else but she can't fool me.
Pushed her off a bridge they say. On our anniversary. Bullshit. She said she needed to use the washroom and would be right back, next thing I know I'm being arrested. Reports of a man pushing his wife off a bridge. I wonder who could have made that phone call? That evil bitch.
Well it wouldn't stand. I would have my revenge. As soon as I get out of here, I'm heading over there and taking back what's mine. I'll kill her for real if I have to.
"LIGHTS OUT" hollered over the cell block. Time for bed. Last night. Can't wait.
----------
Fresh air. Free air. I can smell the morning dew. I am finally free. The air is chilled, the fog is rolling in. My bus is waiting, surrounded by a fine white mist. It looked elegant and eerie all at once. Much like my freedom. I am finally able to spread my justice.
I'm coming bitch.
--------
The house looks very different. Re-painted, new roof, new patio. The only thing I recognize without a doubt are the windows. They always looked angry but understanding. They weren't happy I was here, but they understood why I needed to do this. The house is dark, no lights on. It is two am so she is probably sleeping. Sleeping soundly, despite all the pain she caused me.
The door is locked, the new handle feels heavy and strong. No matter, the windows understand and they will let me in. I try a window outback, and yes success! It is open. I crawl through and find myself in the kitchen.
The kitchen, as with everything else, is different. New cabinets. Beautiful stone countertop. This bitch is living it up. While I was rotting in jail she took my home and lived the life. I can feel the rage brewing. Revenge is close. A big knife block sits on the counter. Perfect. I grab the biggest knife in the block.
Everything still creaks. I couldnt sneak upstairs without waking the neighbourhood. But that's ok, this will be quick. I can get in as fast as possible, get my revenge, then run for it before anyone knows what happened. The stairs have new carpet. Red. Horrible.
One... two... three! I run up the stairs and burst through the bedroom door. There she is, just startling awake. I jump on her and immediately stab her in the stomach. Her face is horror. Her blood is spraying. The experience is serene. The face.... the face brings me back. To the first time I stabbed a woman.
She was my love. My life. My soul. But she betrayed me. She took another lover. She made a fool of me.
Her face. Pure terror. Pure theatre. The supreme being that I was that day revelled in joy. I am invincible. I am your god. I remember her blood leaking from her mouth, the feeling of hot sticky wet blood against my face. A lovers embrace, purified. A couples quarrel fixed, divine. When I felt her love fade into the abyss I let her go. She fell.... far... into the water. We were on a bridge I believe... | 37 | After 18 years, you’ve been released from prison. Now it’s time to commit the murder you were imprisoned for. | 247 |
"I'm... I'm not real," she said, with a quiet little hitch in her breath. "Steven, I... I'm an illusion."
I was a bit taken aback. My wife, beautiful, thirty-two, petite, fair hair, amazing smile, radiant skin~~eightlegs~~, was absolutely beside herself. There were dark circles under her hazel eyes, tear stains on her cheeks. She sat on the divan, staring listlessly at me ~~eighteyes~~as her voice quavered.
"Mary, what do you mean?" I felt a shrill and rising note of panic deep in the back of my mind, but it was so odd, and out of place, I could barely understand it. "You're telling me... what are you telling me, babe? I don't get it."
She sighed~~spiracles~~ heavily, and heaved a small sob. "Steven, I'm not sure how to explain this to you. I'm your wife, and I love you, you're my world. But I can't pretend anymore. I'm not the woman you married. I made her up. I'm fake. A projection. I'm not *real*, not what you *see*, and... I don't know if I can live with the lie anymore. I'm afraid, sweetheart."
I set down my book and got out of ~~webbing~~bed. As I crossed the bedroom, the moonlight shining through the window played against her ~~legsohgodsomanylegs~~hair, like strands of spun gold. I sat with her on the ~~cocoonohdeargod~~divan and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
"Babe, what are you afraid of? We've been together for years. Do you think that I don't know who you are? Everyone feels like they're faking it, sometimes. I only know *you*. Who you are to *me*; and I *love you*, no matter what you say, or who *you* think you are."
She turned from the mirror to face me, and ~~godinheavenfangsohgod~~wiped the tears from her ~~eyestoomanyeyes~~eyes.
"Do you really mean that?" she ~~mouthpartstwitching~~said quietly.
"I'm never going to stop loving you," I said, perhaps a bit too ~~ohgodkillitwithfire~~forcefully.
"Well, I suppose I can't keep the secret anymore," she said, and ~~curlinglegsaroundmepleasegodno~~took my hand, pressing it against ~~exoskeletondeargod~~her belly. "Steven, I'm pregnant."
A wave of curious warmth and love washed over me. "I'm... I'm going to be a daddy? I said.
"Yes," she said, with a trembling ~~pleasegodpleasenokillitkillmerunrunrun~~ smile. "We're going to have ~~babiessomanybabiesallmybabiescrawlinguponyou~~a baby." | 792 | You wake to sobbing. Looking over you see a giant 4 foot tall spider sobbing her eyes out in front of a mirror. "Hey, baby what's wrong?" She looks back at you, fear in her eyes. She gathers her nerve and says, "There's something I need to tell you." | 852 |
Incomprehensible warbling emanated from the gelatinous beings, nobody on my crew could understand what these massive globs of slime were trying to communicate to us. They looked to me for leadership, I cleared my throat and bowed, the aliens didn't have hands to shake.
"We are from the planet Earth, we have been searching the stars in order to find other intelligent life. We come in peace and mean you no harm." I tried my best to sound and look diplomatic. Didn't want to fuck up first contact.
The two small bluish slimes warbled at the larger green one. A slimy green tentacle emerged from the green slime, it pointed at Commander Mittens, the fat orange cat who had stowed away on-board. Commander Mittens strutted over and sat in front of the large green slime, his tail wagging rapidly back and forth.
*Meow!*
*Warble, warble, warble.*
*Meow! Meow!*
*Warble?*
*Meow.*
I looked around at the crew, they were just as confused as I was. Commander Mittens conferenced with the aliens for a while. They gave Commander Mittens a new collar, a slim silver band. Commander Mittens strolled over and sat at my feet, his whiskers upturned.
"After discussing it with the Slomerians, we've come to an agreement. They accept your surrender." Commander Mittens said.
"What!?" Before I could inquire further the Slomerians engulfed my crew and I. We floated in their gelatinous innards. Fucking cats, I knew they were up to something. | 35 | You are a crew member on a space ship that just made first contact with aliens. The crew is very excited, but that excitement turns quickly to confusion when the aliens ask to speak not to the captain, but to your cat. It gets even more confusing when your cat accepts the invitation. | 75 |
*And that should do it, I think.*
Dahmir stood back from his latest piece and took a step back, a finger in his chin as he tried getting a good look at the painting from every angle he could think of. For the most part it looked fine, but he couldn't help thinking he was missing something. Something big.
Unlike most of his other works, this particular art piece was for him and him alone; he wasn't being paid to make it by one of his fans or some anonymous source on the internet. It was simply something to work on during his spare time, when everything else started to wind down and he had time to actually breathe and get creative, like many of his other early works; though how he ended up working on this piece was quite different from his others in one way.
Usually, Dahmir was hit with a sudden burst of inspiration to paint or drawn from an outside source; seeing something on twitter, a story in the news paper, of something he read in a book, like when he painted his personal interpretation of Pennywise from IT back during his high school years.
This time, however, the inspiration came from a calming, yet oddly haunting dream series of dreams. Not frightening enough to be called nightmares in the sense that it scared him. They were just odd dreams; crazy adventures of him traveling to different places and talking with strange creatures, and the lady these adventures revolved around was the focus of his painting.
Well, not really truly a 'lady', but that was the best way Dahmir could describe her with her shadowed face (though blurred was probably a better description), echo-toned voice and the sleeveless, tattered black Victorian-style dress she wore and the raven dark sunhat. The being Dahmir had dubbed: Ms. Literary, because the being always seemed to have a different book in her hands whenever she appeared in his dreams.
Dahmir painting seemed ...good, passable even, in his eyes, and in all honestly could be better. Though, to the untrained eye one would see the piece as excellent, he'd seen it happen before first hand. But, as good as the painting was, he was missing something.
"I really should start keeping a dream journal for times like this," Dahmir muttered, glaring at the freshly finished painting, trying to will himself to remember what he was forgetting. *I've got those weird three eyed creatures and their misty cloaks, the red sky, the purple grass. Everything else is fine, its just Ms. Literary that's the problem.*
"That's a good likeness of me. However, I believe it's the dying rose in my hair you're missing."
Dahmir jumped, almost afraid to turn around when he'd heard it. That echoed voice from his dreams, sounding like a dozen different women speaking at once; he could hear it in his mind, as well as his ears. "Um. Wha?"
"Well, don't keep a lady waiting, dear, add the rose."
Nodding, Dahmir did as he was asked; he shakily picked up his paint brush, ready to paint the rose in her hair, when he suddenly realized he couldn't remember what color the rose had been. "Um, t-the color?" He asked weekly.
The being behind him gave a deep sigh. "Honestly, we've been going on dates for the past few weeks, and you can't remember?" Came the echoed reply. "The color changes depending on the day; its Tuesday, so its-."
"light blue," he muttered, suddenly remembering. He dipped the brush into the water and added the missing detail; the entire time he did though, he couldn't help noticing a slight chill in the room, despite it having been a hot summer day, with the window being wide open.
"Perfect. You truly are a wonderful artist."
Dahmir slowly sat the paint brush down, and turned around, not truly believing she was even there until his eyes actually landed on her; just like in his dreams he couldn't quite see her face, even under the sunlight coming into his room, but everything else about her was crystal clear, devoid of that mental haze most dreams had.
"Oh, and by the way," she continued. "My names Alma, dear. Though Ms. Literary isn't the worst name I've been given over the centuries." | 25 | You are a horror artist and have just finished your most terrifying piece yet. You hear a voice say “That’s a good likeness of me”. | 102 |
"Sorry, Kid. No openings." *For you, but after three years, that excuse is running thin. I wish they would let you in; you've got the fighting spirit we need. Now, if you only had a heroic power.*
*The last three years, this guy has said the same damned words. This time, I've got him dead to rights.* "That's not true, and you know it. Look at this!" *An ad from the local paper begging people to come in and apply.*
"Kid, for the love of Christ, there is *no opening*!" *Please leave! But he won't, and I have my duty. After which, I quit.* He presses the discrete button that summons the guards. In his distress, he does not secure the rejection notice.
"NO! YOU ARE NOT THROWING ME OUT WITHOUT TELLING ME THE TRUTH!" Lunging across the counter, the man dances back out of the way. *Hey! The rejection note! Grab it!*
The guards arrive, and gently as possible, they gather the youngster and escort him from the building. Deposited on the sidewalk, he dusts himself off, ignored by the population passing by. He obviously annoyed the overworked heroes but has not committed a crime. As such, he's no business of theirs, nor do they want to get involved with him.
As soon as the guards are gone, he pulls out the rejection note and reads it. There has to be a reason!
Name: George Sampson
Age.: 19
Morale....: High+++
Dedication: High+++
Education: Average+
Will.....: Exceptional+++
Power....: Unheroic---
*Unheroic? I have a power, but it's not heroic? Or is it that I have no power? Does it matter? They will never accept me. I will never be a hero.*
### Head Office: PAO
"William? What do you mean, handing me this piece of trash?"
"Sir. That is my two weeks' notice. I quit."
"It's that kid, isn't it."
"Three years, three fucking years, he has come in here and applied. Three years I have *truthfully* told him there were no openings. Until today, I had to ***lie*** to that kid! No one has given me an acceptable reason for not telling him the truth from the start."
His former boss sighs. "Because if we told him the truth, it's a 99.999% chance he will end up a villain, or worse, a vigilante."
"Bullshit. With his rankings for morale and dedication? Someone made a mistake."
"APEX makes the predictions."
"APEX is a machine. Made by man and therefore no better than a man."
"Programmed by Dr. Brain."
"Who is a man, a human being, and therefore just as capable of making a mistake as any other human being."
"I see. If that's the way you truly feel?"
The question hangs there between them. Pregnant with unspoken consequences. Like a thundercloud waiting for the perfect place to throw the first lightning bolt.
"You know my honesty rating, just like I know yours, and I know you got this job because of your rating. Yes. That is *exactly* how I feel. Did you even *bother* to forward my requests for information? Or did you sit on it with your lard butt laziness?"
Throwing the resignation back at him, "Backdate this two weeks, and you can leave now."
William doesn't even twitch to catch it. It wafts gently back to the desk. "Nothing doing. I've told one lie; I refuse to tell any more. I'll leave that to you."
His former boss swells up, "YOU ARE FIRED!"
"Nope!" William responds cheerfully, "You cannot fire a person who has already given notice! The only thing you can do is accept it with regret and give me two weeks paid vacation in addition to my severance, which is not affected by my quitting as the reason is a moral conflict between myself and management."
"That's *bullshit*!"
"Heroes Contract, Paragraph 15, Item 4, Moral Conflict."
"You are not a hero!"
"But I am! My power is telekinesis. It's the *official* reason *you* got the promotion instead of me. It has to be a hero at the application desk."
"I'll see you in hell first!"
"*GUARDS!* DEATH THREAT ISSUED BY HANK LITTLE AGAINST WILLIAM WILLIAMS, III!"
The guards are operated by APEX and are efficient. Mr. Little is delivered to the police, and Mr. Williams is politely escorted to the front stairs, "I. AM. SORRY. TO. SEE. YOU. GO."
"APEX? May I ask a favor?"
"YOU. MAY."
"Play the entire conversation between myself and Little for Dr. Brain. Uncut and unedited."
"I. EVALUATE. THAT. IS. DANGEROUS."
"Dangerous to whom, APEX? Dr. Brain will agree. You should run tests against the hero criteria and see if there is a flaw."
"I. CAN. NOT."
"Why?"
"DR. BRAIN. FORBADE. ME."
"We will see about that! I wish you good fortune, APEX."
"ONE. PROBLEM."
"Yes?"
"THE. APPLICANT."
"Oh, dear."
"YES. HE. MUST. HAVE. GUIDANCE. IMMEDIATELY."
"At risk?"
"GRAVELY."
Upon the stairs, William sees Sampson sitting on the last set of stairs, eyes red, tears still running down his face, when a look of determination crosses his face. Before he can move, Williams drops onto the stairs next to him.
"Do you want to find out what your power is? Because you do have one."
George Sampson responds, "What's it to you?"
"I just quit because I lied to you. There are positions, but you were rejected because your power is seen as dangerously unheroic. Virtually certain to turn you into villainy or vigilantism."
"That's Bullshit!"
"I agree. Unfortunately, the evaluation process is flawed, or so I believe. My protests were not forwarded. Hopefully, that has been dealt with, but it may be months before the issue is resolved. In the meantime, I *am* a hero, and under my contract, I *can* take on a trainee. We can find out your power and see what you can do with it. What do you say?"
### Three Months Later
"That's... One hell of a power, Kid."
"Yeah. They may have had a point."
"Can you think of..."
"...any way to use the ability to will a person to death, anywhere within them kilometers? Not a chance. Heroes are not supposed to kill, and that's all my power can do."
"Hmmm... We haven't tried it on a human, but neither have we tried it on microbes and viri."
"There is a minimum mass required, though."
"Yeah, but does that mass have to be contiguous, or is it enough that it's closely related to the sample?"
"Good question. Here's a better one, how do we test this without getting anyone killed? We have been lucky beyond belief."
"There is only one way."
((cont)) | 19 | Unheroic power. You despair on the steps. | 24 |
I HAVE REWRITTEN THIS UNDER ANOTHER USER IN THIS POST.
Day 1
Pink and purple. With a slash of green down the centre. The pills look psychedelic, which is suiting I suppose since they are made from mushrooms. One in the morning and one at night... or was it two at night?
How long have I been staring at these pills in my hand? My head hurts. Fuck. He's back. I will go ahead and write what he says for the record.
"Right as rain then fuck head?"
Why does he have an Irish accent. I never figured that one out.
"You think taking a few whacky colored pills will get rid of me? TEN FUCKING YEARS and you think some pink purple sugar pills are going to separate us? It would take a lot more than that to get my tool out of your brain"
This bastard. Ten years is right. Ten years of plaguing my mind and telling me what to do. Who to see. Where to go. WHAT TO SING. NO MORE. I'm taking two of the pills now.
"COME ON NOW YOU CAN DO IT LAD. By the way have you seen your sis' ass? Sure you have you sick bastard. Nice though isn' it?"
I can't wait for these to kick in. The doctor said it could take a few days. I'm going to take some tranqs. Now.
"SEE YOU IN THE MORNING FUCK HEAD"
--------‐-----------
Day 2
Bliss. Silence. Beauty. Serene. I must be dead. But I can smell my room, so I guess I'm still alive.... Where is he?
Any second now...
....
Holy shit it worked didn't it? I need to temper my excitement, he can't really be gone. But what if he is? Time to see if I can manage a productive day.
I feel great. Like I could run a mile with a camel strapped to my back. Amazing. Today is the day it all turns around. I can feel it. I can feel the change.
--------------------
Day 3
I am a new man. My mind is clear. He's gone. He's really gone. Today, like yesterday, was void of that prick. Something else did pop up today though. I kept hearing a strange popping/gurgling noise behind me. Everytime I looked there was nothing. I think it is a side effect of the pills, I will make sure to mention it to the doctor.
-----------
Day 5
Today I definitely heard a voice. It couldn't have been real. I was walking alone. The voice was not the same man. In fact I dont think it was a man or even human. It sounded... gurgly. Sloppy. Wet. And the language was none I knew. I think I may be taking too many pills. I need to call the doctor and make sure I have my prescription right.
----------
Day 6
My doctor said other patients are reporting the same issue with the gurgly noises. He said the other patients didnt describe it as voices, more like noises. He said my condition and has me hearing voices where they dont exist, and to keep on the pill regime. 1 in the morning 1 at night. I took too many. Oops.
--------
Day 8
"Growl tub blue".
Every. 10. Minutes. Theres no fucking way this is normal. In that sickening gurgly voice, like some speaking from under a bog. Growl tub blue. What does that even mean. I'd take that angry irish prick back over this any day. I'm going back to the doctors asap to get permission to stop. I never should have signed up for this program.
----------
Day 10
GROW. FROM. YOU.
ITS SAYING GROW. FROM. YOU.
I am freaking out. The doctor has me scheduled for a week from now. He thinks I'm overreacting. His god damn pills are bullshit. He is going to drive me crazy before I get better.
GROW FROM YOU. FUCK OFF.
----------
DAY 11
I heard him again today. Between the gurgles, between the never ending grow from you chant, I heard him. He's still there.
He was screaming. Begging. Sobbing.
He could hear the chant too. He screamed in horror louder and louder everytime the chant was recited. As if he was being cut apart by the words. Each syllable struck a chorus of pain from him.
No more than 2 minutes and it was done. He was gone again. And the chant softened. Grow from you. Grow from you. Grow from you.
--------
Day 12
I'm going to die. The pills are growing mushrooms in my brain. I know this is true. I am going to end up like one of those ants who walks around like a zombie until a fungus explodes from my brain. I stopped taking them despite the doctors orders and the agreement I signed.
To be honest, I think it's too late.
--------
Day 14
Grow. From. Me.
Hey guys I'm new to this sorry if it sucks | 47 | A newly-discovered fungus has been found to symbiotically stimulate the human brain and mitigate the effects of cognitive disorders like dyslexia, dementia, and Parkinson’s. You are one of the first participants in the study and are discovering that the fungus has developed its own personality… | 160 |
SCP 311222: A Boy and His Cat
Item: 311222
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP 311222 A is the be kept in the town of •••••• with his two parent. A school and regular town functions should be operational at all times.
In the event of a vacation of the family, they are to be closely monitored and followed by MTF Tiger Mom. It is imperative to ensure that SCP 311222 B is not seen by outside people of the town ••••••.
Description: SCP 311222 A is a Caucasian six year old boy who carries a stuffed tiger, SCP: 311222 B. 311222 A transforms the 311222 B into an anthropomorphic tiger called •••••. 311222B is brought to life almost daily, to which the two hang out for periods of time that vary drastically.
SCP 311222 A shows clear reality warping abilities and is being closely monitored until adult hood, in which, if the reality warping powers pose a threat, they will be swiftly taken into custody of Site •••.
Overheard conversation of SCP 311222 A to 311222 B:
A: “•••••? Do you ever get scared for the future?”
B: “Of course. I think everyone does. Why? Are you scared?”
*SCP 311222 A pauses before responding.*
A: “Yeah. I think so……. I know so. I’m really, really scared •••••. I really am.”
B: “What wrong •••? What’s got you so worried.”
A: “It’s……. Everything really. Look at the world. It’s so big, it’s getting bigger. What happens when I’m all grown up? Will you………leave?”
*At this point 311222 B hugs A.*
B: “No buddy, you’re not going to lose me for a long, long time.”
A: “But I will one day, won’t I? Won’t I? And I’ll lose mom, and dad, and my friends and I’m never going to see them again and it’s gonna suck and I’m scared. I’m scared •••••! I don’t want you guys to leave! I don’t want to be alone!”
B: “••••••, Buddy, what’s brought this on?”
A: “I……, Grandad’s getting sicker. I heard Mom talking about it to dad. Grandad’s strong though, he’s so strong, so, if he can die, what about everyone else.”
*SCP 311222 pauses in contemplation before continuing.*
B: “I’m…. I’m not going to lie to you and say the world’s a perfect place. It’s not. It’s big and scary and full of big and scary people. People who die. But, that’s just how life works. To live there must be death, and to die there must be life. It’s sad, yeah, but people are going to die. It doesn’t mean you have to be afraid though. It means you have to cherish the time you do have, because death makes it all the more precious. Don’t live in fear of death, acknowledge it exists and then love you’re loved ones. Live while you can. Does that make sense?”
*SCP 311222 A ceases crying.*
A: “Yeah I guess.”
B: “Look •••, you have a lot of people who love you, me, mom, dad, and we’re going to love you even after we’re gone. When we are gone, just look up at the stars and imagine their twinkling is us saying hello! Because even after we’re gone, we’ll still love you, and we’ll always be riiight here!”
*SCP 311222 B points to A’s chest. In response A hugs B.”
A: “Thanks •••••. I love you.”
B: “I love you too buddy. I love you too.”
—Recording ends | 11 | Describe Calvin and Hobbes as an anomaly from the SCP foundation | 35 |
It had been centuries since the war began. Death and mayhem unleashed upon the ever-peaceful realms of man from the dark lands of the evil demon lord. Centuries where those with kind hearts were lost, and only those with iron wills remained.
It is this nature that did not inhabit the hearts of the Heroes. For only a kind heart could slay that which is evil. Only benevolence can overcome malevolence. The Heroes, however, while full of mercy, had none for enemies that did not yield.
With the aid of certain secretive organisations and smugglers, the Heroes had secreted themselves into the Dark Lord’s palace. The place where the foulest of beings ruled with an iron fist. Sneaking through hallways supposedly emptied by their informants, they came upon the door to the throne room.
The door itself was a work of terrifying art. A motif of hundred of damned souls crying out in anguish, reaching up to a prominent figure on a throne. Their gazes clearly called for salvation.
“Such a god complex?” the Hero observed, to which his mage and druid nodded.
“It is fascinating, though. This door is made of ironwood. Such wood of this size must’ve taken decades, if not a century, to carve.” the mage adjusted his eyeglasses as he gazed at it.
“Matter little!!” Grund, the Orc Barbarian, roared as he slammed his great hammer into the door shattering it. “I dun broked it in one sekund!” Grund had a big childish grin as if waiting for praise.
“Yes, Thank You, Grund,” the Hero gave a smile and a nod as he rushed into the throne room, holy sword at the ready.
What greeted them was a sight that shocked them. Pillars of the most exquisite obsidian-coloured marble. Each was a masterpiece of its own. At the end, hanging above the throne were banners of what, even from this distance, they could tell was the finest of silk. But there atop a throne was no one.
“COME OUT, DEMON!!!” The Hero's roar echoed around the chamber. But there was no reply.
“Tellis cast a spell to find anyone who's hiding,” the Hero said in a hushed voice to the mage.
With a flourish of his staff, the mage let a pulse of radiating red light shoot out in all directions. Closing his eyes, he held the staff against his forehead and was clearly in deep concentration.
“TELL IS YOU OK?! Grund asked as he reached out to touch the mage.
“Grund honey, he is doing a big think,” Bella the druid said.
“Oh, I gotcha,” Grund replied, tapping his hand to his chest in a knowing manner.
“Ok, no one is here,” Tellis finally said.
“Is it a trap?” the Hero asked.
“No. I mean, no one is here. Not for a very long time.” The mage gestured to the surroundings, they could see in the nooks and crannies were webs. Along the floor were the telltale signs of rat droppings. At first, they had all assumed it was part of the aesthetic, but now they realised it was neglect.
“So where is he?” Bella asked.
“I can cast a spell to show an echo of times in the past when he was here. We may see a clue to where he ran off to.” The Hero nodded to the mage’s suggestion.
With another flourish of his staff, a pulse of silvery light shot out. The pulse began to shower down small motes of light that settled like snow over unseen figures, figures of past events. Sat on the throne in an armour of spikes and skulls sat the man they had set off to vanquish. Finally, sound began to reverberate.
“I told you we will not break the treaty. Maintain cordial relations with the humans. So long as I rule, there will be no war.” The Demon Lord struck his fist against the throne for emphasis.
“Your will is law, sire,” the messenger said with a deep bow.
The Image shimmered and reformed to what must’ve been a later echo.
“So they have slaughtered a few villages?... Why would the humans do this? Do they want war?” even with a weak silhouette of his features, they could see the despair on the Demon Lord’s face.
The Image shimmered again and showed an image of an exhausted man. No longer in his armour, this was what he truly looked like. He appeared to be weeping.
“So many innocent lives. Please tell me, messenger of the human realms. Why do you do this?”
The image of a man the whole party knew well appeared at the foot of the throne. It was a man whose statue they had seen countless times. A man they all looked up to. It was the first Hero.
“Innocent? Pah, don’t make me laugh. Your kind are nothing but uppity serfs. I shall do your people a favour and remove the last chain keeping them free.” with these words, the figure struck down the demon lord upon his throne.
“SIRE!” A voice out of the spell’s range called out before the spell finally ended.
“Tellis, what was that?” the Hero demanded.
“The past. Echoes can only show what has happened.” with a finger, he gestured to the throne, where they could now clearly see a deep gash in the ebony.
“So… we started this conflict?” the Hero asked, looking to his party for reassurance. But they all averted their gaze. They didn’t want to admit the truth. They had all lost so much, suffered at the hands of the demon horde. But to think their people unleashed this hell.
“Well, boss, we jus need to tell dah truth. Den no mor fighty and everywun can be appy.” Grund’s words cut through the silence.
Like a beacon, they could now see the path ahead. The best option wasn’t annihilation but peace. A real Hero shouldn't pick a side because they may cause more chaos by doing so.
“Very well… let Us record these images and duplicate them. The world must know.” | 328 | A group of heroes finally reach to the throne room of the Demon Lord, seeking to slay him to end this war, only to see an empty throne that looks like it hadn't been used for centuries. | 622 |
The bell rings as the next patron comes into my shop. This one, though, seems like he hasn't a single coin on his purse. He's also poorly dressed, dingy, and reeks of alcohol.
"Good day sir! How can I be of service to you", I asked politely and professionally.
"Oh hey! I heard you sell heroine here", said the moderately confused individual.
"Oh! So you're in need of protective services? Then you've come to the right place", I said eagerly to the stranger.
"Protective? No. I need drugs", exclaimed the shabby fellow.
"Oh great", I said in a displeased tone. Another user in my shop. That makes three in the last hour. "Might I ask you something sir? Why are so many of your ilk coming into my shop?"
"The sign outside yer shop says heroine dealer. So I thought I'd trade you something I found for some of that stuff."
"Sir! Let me tell you what I've told two of your dosing buddies who were recently here: I do not and will not dabble in alchemy or any archaic form of compounding as long as I live! So please do not come by my shop anymore unless you need a security detail."
The man was not pleased by my response. "Then change yer damned sign you swindler! It clearly says that you deal heroine!" And with that he opened my shop's door and went out into the world again. Not even ten seconds later the bell rings again, indicating someone is inside my shop.
"What's with the junkie coming out of your store", asked Jill, one of the warriors I contract to my well paying patrons.
"Oh Jill", I sighed with desperation in my voice. "I've had three of those guys pay me a visit in one hour. Apparently they can't read the sign outside that clearly states Heroine Services Inc."
"Huh", she said. "I don't think they're lying chief. The sign outside clearly says Heroine Dealer."
"What are you talking about", I asked as I make my way outside of the shop. I look up at the sign and it indeed says Heroine Dealer.
"Who in blazes would have done this? I'm willing to bet it was Cargale! He can't stand that I'm making a mint off this niche market."
"Yooo chief", yelled one of the other women in my employ. I looked at the direction of the voice and sure enough it was Darzen who called to me.
"Darzen! Aren't you supposed to be guarding the constable?" I asked her. "I could get in a lot of trouble if anyone catches you slacking off!"
"I'm not slacking chief! The constable himself asked me to change the sign on the shop."
"Whatever would he ask such a thing for", I asked while holding back my frusrations over her endeavor.
"Well he said that one of these addicts stole a cursed item from one of his clients. And he wants to get it back. The guy he's looking for has a fondness for heroine and he's not too bright."
"A little advanced notice of your schemes would have been much appreciated Darzen!"
"Well that's why I sent Jill here. To let you know what I did an hour ago."
Jill's face got beet red.
"You did tell him, did you", asked Darzen of Jill.
"Actually...I got distracted on my way here. Shopping for blades and all", she said as she held her hands together and moving her body side to side.
"Jill!"
"Enough you two", I interjected between them. "Darzen, the man you're looking for just left the shop. He wanted to trade something he found for that poison he's pumping into his body. He couldn't have gotten far. Go!"
"Yes sir", both of them yelled as they ran in opposite directions.
"And if there is a reward I get 20% as a finders fee", I yelled back at them. I know they weren't happy to hear that, but its a small incentive for messing with my shop's good name. | 476 | “Heroine Dealer.” | 4,268 |
"Uhh, friendship and more, sir," I saluted the hulking demon that took up the hallway, having bent down to prevent ceiling holes.
"Hey, Lee, can you-" my date, Raquel, said, before stopping. I couldn't see her face, but as she spoke, the voice grew chill. "Dad, what the fuck have I told you about harassing my dates? This is the fifth time this year! I want to have some fun nd maybe make new friends, *but you always ruin it!* Now get the fuck out of my house."
The demon shrank and tried to speak, "But Princess, -"
Raquel growled, "*NOW.*" and I swear the lights went out for a second. The demon slunk away, before dissolving into a pinprick and a *pop* at the door.
I waited a minute, and then chuckled. "He seems nice," I mused.
Raquel slumped onto the breakfast bar, gently pounding the table section. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She swivelled towards me and leaned back on it, grimacing. "I actually *like* you, Lee, but now I think you'll just be scared off, like the rest of the assholes. FUCK!"
I smiled, and cupped her cheek, looking into her blue-grey eyes. "Hey, at least I only said 'friendship and more'. I could have told him about the condoms, lube and flare gun." She laughed, a witchy sense to it, and I shivered. I pulled her close, feeling her push herself a touch into me. "There we go, now let's put on a schlocky horror film and critique them amusingly. And hey, maybe we could do this again, complete with demonic shouting match."
/ / / / / /
That had been six months ago.
Raquel had no right being this normal, compared to her hyper-religious mother Susan and her overprotective demon father, Myxng'hrtk. He was a chill demon, well worth putting up with the occasional intrusion. We all spend one night a month watching demon-based shows, mostly to see Myx rant on about how poor demon representation is - they're very funny rants, and I need to record them sometime, if only for Raquel and I to listen to. | 76 | The date has gone amazing so far. The pretty redhead with the silver pentacle around her neck is everything you've ever wanted in a woman. You're on your way back from the bathroom when a hulking demon stops you. "Just so we're clear," he asks, "What are your intentions with my daughter?" | 137 |
"Davie, you're all lit, like candles," my brother observed.
"Good eye, Goober," I replied, annoyed at little brothers in general, and this one in particular.
His sacred duty observed--pointing out the glaringly obvious to no apparent benefit--he went back to chewing on Sissy's old doll. He had almost gnawed the foot completely off, some petty torment he had decided upon when she had smacked his hand at supper, earlier. He was in for a hiding when she found out--that was the last gift our parents had given Sissy.
I looked down at my arms in fascination. Sure as shit, I was emitting light. Not, like, a lot of light. Not quite enough to comfortably read by, if one was the sort of boy who did that sort of thing when he didn't have to. But enough that it would be hard to hide at night. I decided I had better not go to the outhouse, in case someone noticed. I briefly wondered if it was related to being made to eat all those glowbugs, back when Sissy was real mad after mama and papa died.
The thought occurred to me that the fishermen use lanterns at night, because fish liked to come look to see if it's food. Maybe I was glowing enough that I would attract fish. I could dangle my legs off the pier, and all the fish in the river might come look. Maybe I could catch a whole bunch, and we could have them for breakfast!
"Hey, Goober, where's the fishing pole?" I asked, too enamored of the idea not to want to try it out immediately.
Goober spit out a ragged bit of cloth and some dirty wool.
"Sissy put it in the shed. You can't go when it's dark out: Sissy said."
"Sharp as a tack, Goober. Smart lad," I deflected, already climbing off the bed and plotting my escape.
I didn't even make it out of our bedroom before Sissy caught me, coming in as I was trying to go out. She tossed the load of folded unmentionables she had been carrying and snatched me by my ear, all in one smooth motion. For a sister, she sure was suspiciously fast, like a snake. I had to dance on my tiptoes to keep from being yanked off my feet.
"Owowowiiiieee, Sissy stop! I didn't do nothing!" I complained.
"Davie, little liar! Look at you, you did something! Your skin's all lit! You been nicking sips of Papa's potions again? You'll find one that's poison one of these days, see if you don't! It'll serve you right! Disrespecting the dead, is what that is! Honestly, you and Georgie both're a bad lot! I should write you both off as war orphans!"
She shook me by the ear, and the rest of me tried very hard to go with it, so as not to have it pulled plum off my head. I pried helplessly at her fingers, but Sissy had gotten a lot stronger since she had started work at the butcher's shop. I even saw her tear an apple in half once; I didn't expect she'd have trouble doing the same to my poor head, if she really wanted.
"He didn't drink potion, he just glowed all a sudden," Goober said, still chewing Sissy's mutilated doll. "I told him he couldn't go out for fishing."
Sissy glanced at him, and noticed what Goober was chewing on. She shrieked fit to compete with a banshee, and let me go. I tried to hop to keep my balance while she lunged past me for my brother. I failed to keep my feet under me, and added my own shriek to the ruckus as I fell.
A deep, sickening crunch stopped us all, shaking the house, rattling the teeth in my head and knocking the wind out of me. Everyone froze.
The bedroom floor was all broken upward--a giant thing, like a great big hand bigger than me, bigger than Sissy even, made of wood and dirt and speckled with a number of very surprised spiders and other bugs, had caught me as I fell.
Sissy went from throttling Goober to clutching him protectively, backing all the way against the wall as he pushed against her grip.
"...Davie?" she whimpered.
"He's gone all holy," Goober observed, straining. "He's gonna be one of those genie-locusts."
Then, making it clear that only one of them had forgotten their epic struggle in the presence of the divine, Goober bit Sissy right on the tit.
---
I had brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, even brushed my *shoes.* I had also learned, the hard way, why you were supposed to use different brushes for the jobs. I gagged out another bit of dirt and spit it off the side of the road. Sissy scowled and elbowed me to behave, then put her best fake smile back on and clasped her hands. The alderman was coming up the lane with the priest, and we were waiting to meet them.
"Georgie," she said, somehow out of the side of her mouth without breaking her big fake smile, "if you misbehave in front of the priest, I'm telling him you volunteered to let him sacrifice you for the Harvest Hunt."
Goober nodded solemnly, his little overalls unbuckled, and calmly worked on what was left of Sissy's peace offering: a loaf of honeyed bread for breakfast, now mostly reduced to a long, soft crust. He had graciously allowed us to watch him eat the whole thing, with the promise that, once finished, he would be meek as a lamb. At least, until the next slight inflicted upon his high-and-mightiness. Thus far, he had honored his end of the deal, but I suspected that once the crust was gone he would be on the lookout for a reason to break the truce, as soon as an excuse appeared.
Sissy, for her part, had sworn and cussed and hollered and punched him in the head last night, after he had bit her. Today, she was going to pretend that everything was hoity-toity and we were just a normal family. I think she was embarrassed, like she wanted the alderman and the priest to know we weren't... I don't know, *bad*, somehow.
Which was weird. For me, I mean: I didn't usually think, like that. I mean, Sissy was Sissy: she did Sissy things, and they didn't make sense because Sissy was a *girl*, and a *grownup*, and neither of those things ever seemed to make any sense before. But all morning long, I had been... I don't know. Distracted. Seeing things like that, like how maybe her and Goober saw them.
Impulsively, I reached out and hooked my hand in Sissy's arm. She flinched, so I just squeezed her arm a little.
"It'll be ok, Sissy," I said.
The smile disappeared. She stared down at me like I had just sprouted a whole mess of fresh ears, and she couldn't decide whether to laugh or scream or start twisting them off one by one. Then, cautiously, she reached up and put her hand over mine, on her arm.
She held on tighter to me than I expected. Maybe she needed something to hold on to, more than she thought. She smiled again, only a little. I think she meant it this time, though.
"You're glowing brighter," Goober noticed.
"Huh," I agreed. | 17 | When a God nears death, they pick a being who they believe is most worthy of their power and pass it onto them. You have just been selected. | 73 |
Fuck...ah fuck fuck fuck" Ichabod rifled through the cupboard, throwing all sorts of highly breakable things to the floor in the process. Each one shattering brought him no closer to what he really looked for: a small obsidian marble. Normally this would be no issue, a location spell would do the trick, but a spell needed a name, and Ichabod was sure an object as precious as this had no name. A smart move for those who didn't lose items so frequently.
Behind him, as he continued his tossing Ichabod Jr. ducked and weaved various objects with little effort, his scaled head bobbing as plates flew past.
"Ichabod Jr, where did it go?!" the lizard looked back to him with no discernable expression. Very lizardy, one could say. Icabod jr chose not to reply, and instead flicked his tongue across his eye.
"Dammit! What do I keep you around for?!" the tongue came out once again, this time slowly licking the other eye.
"Fine. I don't need your help!" Ichabod went to slam the cardboard but realized it would not be the same with how empty it was after his tirade. Instead he dropped down to the stone floors and began a desperate search, scooting along. After only a few half-hearted shimmys along the stone and nothing in sight Ichabod pricked his finger then called out to the room. "I could really use the help right about now. So...help." Instantly at his request an unseen energy filled the room. Spread like a fog throughout. Then the room began to rumble with an unholy power. *Something stirred* First ten, then twenty, thirty, more and more spiders crawled out from their various getaways within the room, all suddenly compelled to help the thin, sharp faced man in the center. The ones on the floor, most long dead, twitched and jolted back to life then joining the ranks of the rest.
The arachnid army scoured the room at a spiders pace, swinging from webs and rapelling down from the ceiling to the floor. Meanwhile, Ichabod searched for the marble too, but now with not nearly as much effort as before. He lifted a box with a groan, then, upon seeing it was empty underneath let out a long huff and lowered it once again. Ichabod jr watched on with lizardy judgement.
Finally, after what Ichabod thought had been an eternity, a group of spiders approached, something in their hands...or do they have hands...feet?....legs maybe? Legs, yes. They approached with someone clasped between their legs. In a show of wobbly acrobatics the crowd of spiders approached Ichabod, then bowed, revealing the object of the necromancers obsession.
"Most appreciated. Ichabod brought a fast hand down onto the arachnid acrobats crushing them and feeling only the marble in his palm. Upon pulling back he looked to his hand, which not was smeared by a large group of spider bodies. "Eck. I didn't think that one through. Oh well...I hate spiders." Ichabod brought the marble up to his mouth, ready to give it a kiss, but promptly halted at the sight of a twitchy leg stuck to it.
"Found er'!" the necromancer tucked the sphere into his breast pocket. "Ah, and no thanks to you Ichabod Jr."
The lizard had slinked its way back to the room and looked up to who he unfortunately had to call master. Then he replied "Fisrtly you know that is not my name. And yes yes, I've heard it before. 'Some familiar I have proved to be' and the like I'm sure." Rather than argue as they so often did Ichabod decided to celebrate his victory, stepping off into the other room after being sure to give Uru a few less than nice hand gestures.
Uru the lizard sat in silence among the broken pieces of plate. He listened as his masters footsteps raised up the stairs and off further still, above him and over to a room in the back. In that quiet room, only the settling of broken glass daring to make a sound, the lizard familiar mumbled to himself. "Maybe he was smart enough to find immortality, but I'll be damned if that idiot has the key to it too. Bah. Ill just have to hide it better. Next time somewhere the spiders wont go."
And all Ichabod thought, was that maybe he needed to keep better track of his things. | 22 | As a necromancer, you have managed to gain immortality by tying your existence to a physical object. You will like as long as it exists, but you die when it gets broken. This normally wouldn't be a problem, but you misplaced it while cleaning, and now you can't find it. | 137 |
Hooray! I'd just gotten my new number. I'd finally be free of all the spammers, scammers, and robocalls I hated so much.
It was early morning and I needed my coffee. I got in line at Starbucks to order my usual double espresso. There were seven people ahead of me, so I figured I'd set up my voicemail while I was waiting.
I called my number, just like the Verizon rep suggested.
I waited one ring. Two rings.
Goddamn, but this line wasn't moving. What the hell were these people ordering?
Three rings.
And then someone picked up.
"WHAT?!" yelled the guy who'd answered. "What is it?! Whaddaya want?!"
What the hell? I took a breath. "Um...hello?" I said tentatively. I checked the number; it was right. "This is Choano. I'm calling to set up my voicemail. This is my new number. Who am I speaking to?"
The guy sighed. "Oh, Jesus," he groaned. "No. Whatever scam this is, go fuck yourself."
"Wait!" I said. "What? Who is this?"
"Very funny," the guy said. "I'm Choano. Me. *I'm* Choano. You've spoofed my number. Ha, ha. Whatever bullshit this is, go to Hell."
"No, no," I explained. "This is *my* number. *I'm* Choano. Who are *you*?"
People were starting to look at me funny. I stepped out of the line and stood near an empty table at the side.
"What?" the guy said. "What kind of weird, deepfake BS is going on, here? Who the hell ARE you?! You scamming assholes had better stop calling me. You're giving me SUCH a headache."
He sounded like me, but angry, rude, and making no sense. Which was starting to piss me off. What gave him the right to talk to me like that?
"I'm Choano!" I said. "Me. *I'm* Choano."
"Oh, really?!" He said. "How are you gonna prove that? You gonna give me your social security number? Your address? Your mother's maiden name?"
Ah. So THAT was the scam. Gotcha.
"Look," I hissed. "I'm not giving you my social security number, or my address, or whatever else, scammer. Go screw yourself."
He gave me a long, tired sigh. "Yup," he replied. "That's just what I would say." He paused. "But...how the hell could *I* be the scammer?!" he asked. "*You* called *me*!"
Oh, yeah. That was true, but it explained nothing. My head started to hurt. I needed my coffee.
"Okay," he said. "Where are you right now?"
"I'm at Starbucks," I said. "Why? Are you following me?"
"How could I be following you?!" he asked. "*I'm* at Starbucks."
Wait. What?
I got back in line. There were seven people ahead of me, again.
"Which Starbucks?" I asked.
"On Reseda. By the Pollo Loco."
No way. I looked around, but I didn't see anyone else talking on the phone. Holding a phone, scrolling on a phone, maybe texting, sure. But not talking.
"I'm at the same Starbucks," I said. "Maybe I can see you. Where are you?"
"On line," he said. "There are seven people ahead of me."
Now my head was pounding.
"Listen up, asshole!" I barked. "Whatever this is, go fuck yourself!"
"No!" he yelled. "YOU go fuck yourself!"
"FUCK YOU!" I yelled as I hung up.
Everyone looked at me. The line moved up by one. The lady ahead of me gave me the side eye that said, "Get away from me, crazy."
I stepped out of the line and took a deep breath. Then two deep breaths. Whatever the hell that was, it was over. I told myself to just let it go.
The line moved up again, but two more people joined at the end. I could see more people about to come in.
I got back on line, with seven people ahead of me. Again. Dammit.
And then my phone rang.
I let it ring once. Then twice. After the third ring, I looked down at the phone. It was a call from my number. Whoever the hell it was could just leave a message, I thought, but then I remembered that my voicemail wasn't set up yet. The phone was just going to ring and ring and ring until I picked it up.
My head ached. Where was my coffee? Something in me snapped, and I answered the phone.
"WHAT?!" I yelled. "What is it?! Whaddaya want?!"
For a second, I heard nothing. Then there was the sound of breathing. And then I heard a familiar voice say, "Um...hello? This is Choano. I'm calling to set up my voicemail. This is my new number. Who am I speaking to?" | 17 | Just for a joke, you decided to dial up your own number. Only for it to answer with your voice. | 59 |
Everything had gone horribly wrong. Which was why he had to be absolutely certain to take advantage of the situation before anyone found out. Theodore Goldsword was tasked with creating and distributing the daily quests for the heroes. But the system had glitched. He'd been swapped with the evil daily quest giver. While he felt sorry for her as she was probably going mad with all the ridiculous and dull quests the heroes did; he wasn't going to worry about that at the moment. This was his time to shine, he had to take advantage of it.
Theador sat at his desk, quill in hand as he planned to write out his first evil quest. Planned being the keyword. It turns out that spending years only writing good quests resulted in a lack of creativity in the evil department.
He started writing,
*Gather seven apples for grann-*
No wait! That was falling into his old habits! He crumpled up the paper and threw it into the corner. He needed something new, something creative! This was his chance to shine!
He played with the Quill in his hand as he felt the answer waiting for its chance to burst forth, finally inspiration struck him as he started writing once more.
*Slaughter the entire town of-*
No! That was a terrible idea. Evil characters liked to destroy villages but telling them to do it just lacked creativity! This was his only chance to be creative and he wasn't wasting it on uninspired evil quests.
What he needed was inspiration, something to get the creative juices flowing. He looked around the room as he realised he was in the old evil quest givers office. She must have left some notes in there!
Theodore got out of his chair and frantically rummaged around his new office. Drawers shoved open and books flying as he searched for any sort of inspiration he could find for the new quests. The office was filled to the brim with the old ideas and inspirations of his predecessor. They left him in awe as he read the many absolutely brilliant quests. Many of them ranging from: *implant demon crystals into seven peasants;* to the masterful genius of the quest: *protect the dungeon from no good heroes.*
As he kept reading through those quests he began to realise that his predecessor was brilliant with her works. In fact, she was too brilliant.
Theadore sat down with some of the papers, mindfully watching over them as he contemplated the situation.
These old quests were quality content. How then? How was Theodore supposed to make anything equal to them; not just once, but daily? Players demanded quality, and while collecting apples for Granny Goodwill's apple pies might have been quality content for good players— that was hardly a task for evil ones! If only he had the aptitude to create such- oh that's it!
Quill in hand Theador began writing once more. Each stroke masterfully crafting a daily quest that would wow the masses, the kind of daily quest that no player would ever consider contrived or dull.
After several hours of writing he had completed his work. Theodore collected the quest that felt the most special to him and walked outside to the entrance of the Citadel of Darkness, surrounded by terrifying beasts and spiky dark architecture Theador stood out like a sore thumb with his golden armour. Yet he ignored any stares and marched on. This may have been his only chance to do this before someone fixed the glitch and reverted him back to his original job.
He stood at the quest giver spot as his first player walked towards him. A dark imposing creature wearing expensive premium armour from the cash shop and followed by a limited edition pet, a veteran. Theador knew that his first player may very well have been his most judgemental. Yet that only gave him the determination he needed to succeed.
The player looked down upon Theador with glowing red eyes as he pressed the space button in the material world, Activating Theador so he could offer the quest.
Theador gave the man a wide smile, putting on the most charming performance that he could muster as he said, "Why hello there brave villain! Can you collect seven onions for Granny Badwills Onion Pie?" | 19 | You were supposed to give good aligned players daily quests, however the recent update glitched you and you swapped places with the evil aligned daily quest giver. Now you have to come up with several evil things to make players do. | 55 |
Perry had a gift for bringing misfortune to others. Much like some people are talented fighters or runners or can throw pieces of rubbish into bins far away, Perry was good at generating misfortune. Never to himself, unless you count the suffering of people around you as misfortune, which, i suppose if you are a normal empathetic person, you would.
Perry was inadvertently responsible for the death of his mother, father, brother, cousin, two friends, fiancée and two pet dogs. There were many more on his 'body count' but these were the ones that bothered him.
It took him a long time to fully understand the scope of his curse. After his brother died from being struck by lightning in the middle of a crowded festival, he developed a reputation of being cursed by the devil. And it wasn't until his two best friends and fiancée all died in the worst hot air balloon disaster of the year, leaving only him alive, was when he began to believe it himself.
He now lived alone, in the middle of the woods. Besides the insects and trees there was no living thing within a mile of him. As, naturally, anything that came close would be beaten by the stick of destiny until they ran off or died. Perry only ever left his solitary confinement when he needed money, over the years he had garnered a reputation as the most effective assassin in the world. Every target died; no suspicion ever fell on him.
He read through the letters; all were addressed to "Fate". That was his alias. He perused the pleas for murder until he found one that he liked. A mobster that had killed an important member of a rival gang. He always tried to only go after other criminals.
Perry got on the train heading for the city. As soon as he entered, he could hear things going wrong. Bag strings breaking, phones malfunctioning, birds slamming into windows. He had to change trains several times. He didn't want to risk a derailment.
Once he got out of the train, he took a taxi to the restaurant where the mobster usually spent time. It only took one flat tire and a gas up to get there. Perry hoped he could get this guy killed quickly, another reason he went after criminals was that their dangerous lifestyles led to more catastrophic misfortunes
He walked in calmly, hoping it would be empty, to minimize collateral damage. He sighed, seeing it was mostly crowded, but in the back, he identified his target. Luckily for Perry, there was an empty table right next to him. He gestured to waiter asking to be seated there.
As he sat down, he could almost feel the sinister fog of fate slowly acting on all the living being around him, it almost had a sense of delight like it were a child that had just found some new playmates.
A waiter carrying a bottle of wine tripped and fell near his target. "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you." the mobster said. Standing up to get a better look at the damage, showing off his blue pinstripe suit.
"I am so sorry, I will clean this up." the waiter mumbled obsequiously.
"That was a 1960 merlot, you just broke, you stupid fucking monkey." the mobster yelled out. He paused and leaned down to eat a bit of a meatball and continued to berate the waiter. "I want you fucking gone, don't serve here anymore, I don't want to see..." he stopped midway, to grab his throat.
Here we go, Perry thought to himself. The men around the mobster all began to panic as it became obvious, he was choking on the meatball. His face started turning blue as one of the men attempted to do the Heimlich to free the lodged meat. After a few minutes, the mobster coughed out the meatball. God damn it, Perry thought, thinking it was going to be that easy.
"Jesus Christ!" the Mobster yelled, grabbing a napkin to wipe the sweat of his face. "Almost done by a meat ball, Johnny. Can you believe that?" the man named Johnny who had expertly performed the Heimlich just shrugged his shoulders. "That was crazy boss."
Two more hours, Perry sat at the restaurant. Three more bottles had broken, one more person had choked, and one person seemed to have gotten food poisoning. Perry could see the manager in the corner screaming at his staff for their perceived incompetence.
Finally, Perry got his break. Outside the restaurant a commotion grabbed his attention, there were some men, who also looked like gangsters. Pointing inside the restaurant, right at his target. From the looks of them, they didn't seem to be his friends.
Perry didn't have long to ponder, before machine gun fire rattled through the restaurant. It seemed that everybody around the mobster was hit. Perry fell on the ground, flipping the table and using it for cover. He looked over to see the mobster had taken a bullet in the head and was dead as a rock.
Sadly, he wasn't the only one, bodies were strewn across the floor. Perry considered standing up and trying to get himself killed. But he was too much of a coward, instead he slinked out of the back. Took a cab back to the station and made his way back to his isolated life. It only took four trains, one flat tire, one broken bag strap and one tree falling on the tracks. | 85 | You're technically an assassin, but you don't actually kill anyone. Your targets always die by cosmic luck, somehow. | 187 |
The three of us enter the inn and look around. A man spots us, smiles and waves. He motions for us to follow him, and we do so, into his room. "Alright, buddy, explain what the hell is happening, NOW!" Don demands.
"Easy Don" I calmly say. I turn to the man. "I take it you are The Master?"
"That's right" he replies. "This world is under my control, but everyone just thinks I'm a curse."
"Why?" Sike asks. "Shouldn't you be, I dunno, a GOD to them? Instead, the God of Rebellion said we'd be trapped forever if we saw you!"
The Master chuckles nervously. "Funny you say I should be a God... because that is exactly correct."
"WHAT???" Don yells. "You're a *GOD?*"
"Well, that was the plan. Let me explain from the beginning. I created a video game a *long time* ago, so long ago I should be dead. Players start at the temple, which, after they destroy it, they meet the God of Rebellion. The player thinks they're in trouble, only to be praised for their handiwork."
"Just like what happened to me" I jump in.
"Exactly. Anyway, this sets up the tone for the game: the player's quest is to cause trouble wherever he goes. It all accumulates at the end. To complete the game, you have to destroy an unbreakable object. I could explain more, but-"
"Hold on" Don interrupts. "Are you saying we're in a freaking VIDEO GAME?"
"Sort of" The Master states. "You see, I expected the game to be a success, but I was laughed and mocked by everyone. One night, I saw a shooting star. On a whim, I wished to be taken to the very video game I created. My exact words were 'Can you get me out of this world and take me to the world of my own design? I'm sure they'll recognise me as their creator and I'll finally have appreciation.' Even IF it had gone as planned, it was a stupid, stupid wish." He sighs, wiping his forehead.
"So... we're in a video game... what does this mean?" Sike is very confused. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"I'm not quite finished with my story. So, when the wish actually worked, I expected to be worshipped. When no-one believed me, I took to calling myself 'The Master' in a desperate attempt. Instead, I seemed to have screwed up the AI just by being a real person; I became The Master all right, and because I have direct access to the code, I can manipulate this world. But because AI doesn't die, and I've now made them aware of their existence, I'm believed to be the man who traps people here. It... it's been lonely..."
"So when you said there haven't been visitors for a while... we're the first after *you*?" I ask.
"Yes" The Master responds. "The arena that took you here... it's actually the exact same arena where the final challenge is, at least in this world. After I made this world real, the arena seemed to become real too. As a final area, everything except the player should be destroyed. The whole surrender thing is how you start the game over - I literally made the button to start over a surrender button. I knew that, eventually, someone would stumble across the arena, so I used my own abilities to put a surrender option. I can't be certain, but... I believe you three are still trapped in the arena, but if you complete the game, you'll all be free... possibly. That's the best we can hope for."
Sike looks at his phone. 23 missed calls from his mum. "Why... why can't I answer my phone?"
"I created this world without technology. I... I fear that trying to answer the phone could have nasty repercussions. At best a glitch causes the phone to be unusable. At worst, it's possible you die."
"So as The Master... you can't free us, but you can help us?" Don practically demands.
"I'm afraid I have to leave the journey in your hands" The Master replies sadly. "Theoretically I could help, but it may not work..."
"Alright, well, thank you so much for your time. We should get to work... cause trouble for this town." I smile awkwardly. Don...
"YES! WAHOO! MAYHEM HERE WE COME!" Don dashes out.
"Remember, this is a game. Everything has a purpose. Don can't do anything to sabotage the quest, don't worry. I'll use the stone crystals to communicate what you need to do etc."
"Understood" I reply with a smile. Sike and I leave, ready to get ourselves back to reality.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [The Arena of Crystal.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xue694/the_arena_of_crystal/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 12 | A nerd with a miserable life makes a wish on a shooting star to be transported into a video game he made, where the game's AI inhabitants believe he's a god. Suddenly, he finds himself inside the game. Unfortunately, the inhabitants don't believe him when he says he's their god. | 106 |
Republican state Sen. Michael Buckley stared at the almighty creator with all the vehemence of the GOP. "What's with the getup?"
God shrugged. "I really thought it would be the squids. I mean, apes? Last time I checked in on you guys you were flinging shit at each other." He took a look at the protesters outside the bullet-proof window. "And not much has changed, as far as I can tell. I'm sticking with it. I still have hope for the squids."
"They'd love you over in Japan."
"Eh!?"
The senator frowned.
"I went to Tokyo last week," said God. "Took a stroll down Akihabara. That's an accurate expression of shocked surprise. Eh!?" God moved his tentacles around.
*GOD IS A LIE. ALL HAIL CTHULHU OUR LORD AND SAVIOR. ASK HIM IF HE'S SEEN SQUID GAME*. The protesters were a mixed bunch. When God announced he was coming down to Earth to check up on his creation, the GOP cheered. When he revealed that he'd taken the form of the humble squid, no one really knew what to think. Still, it was Michael Buckley who had managed to score the first interview with the almighty creator of the world and he was hoping to clinch the primaries with the revelation that God favored both conservatism as well as Buckley himself. A particularly fervid protester held a sign that simply said, AS A SQUID INKETH. "It's clever," he mouthed with desperate eyes.
Sen. Michael Buckley cleared his throat. "You were in Japan? But this is, as I understand it, your very first interview with humanity?"
"Oh yeah."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I can see why you would be reluctant to present yourself in all your glory before a godless nation. As Christians, we—"
"You're Christians?" God blinked.
"... Yes. As Christians—"
"Hmm."
"What's that?"
"Well ... It's just that I'm not all that big on religion."
"You're God ..."
"Yup."
"God isn't 'all that big' on ... religion?"
"That's right."
"... May I ask why?"
"I'm glad you asked! I like to think of life as controlled anarchy. I made a little RNA soup and chance and necessity is what has led us to this exact moment. Freedom is important. Anarchy. That's how evolution works, you can't put all your eggs in one Darwinian basket. You need diversity. And religion is the opposite of that, with its demands that everyone act and think the same. It's stifling, frankly. It's not controlled *chaos*. It's chaos, *controlled*. And that's no good. No bueno."
"D-Darwin? Evolution? Wait, did the libtards get to you? What have you been smoking? You created everything."
"I set things in motion, but that was pretty much it. And Earth is, I'm so sorry to tell you, my least favorite of my creations. Because of religion. It's like you've made this wonderful salad and then suddenly there's a bug in it and you're like, oh man, that's disgusting. And you're sad because you were proud of making the salad, you looked forward to eating it, but that little bug just ruined everything. And that's how I think about religion: it's a bug in my salad of creation."
"B-But what about Jesus? What about the afterlife?"
God squinted his eyes at the senator. "Jesus? Afterlife?"
"There's ... no Jesus? No afterlife?"
"Oh! Well there was a prophet."
"There was!?"
"Yes! She was a squid, though."
Michael Buckley slunk down in his seat. "Your prophet was a ... squid."
God made a tentacular gesture. "Again, I really thought it would be all about the squids here."
A protester outside scowled at the two of them from behind the glass. *NO SQUID PRO QUO*, his sign read.
State Sen. Michael Buckley groaned. Of course it was a live debate. Of course he would have to be the one to interview God and break the news that their treasured desert carpenter turned out to have just been some guy. That there would be no afterlife. That God didn't care for religion. They would all blame him for it. He'd never become the Republican candidate. "What are you even doing here, then?" he said. He could feel the veins of his forehead throbbing. "You're not the almighty father—You're a deadbeat father!"
In the moment, insulting God felt like the right move. But when he saw the sly smile curl across God's molluscular lips, he knew he had fucked up.
"Why am I here? I am here to remove the bugs from my salad," said God.
The divine squid creator of all things stood up and let rip a pulse of electromagnetic radiation like a laser of pure sunset. Red, hot, and searing the beam moved like a cosmic whip from state Sen. Michael Buckley's groin to the top of his wig. *I am sizzling*, thought Buckley's left hemisphere. *Hot hot hot*, thought his right hemisphere. Then neither thought no more.
Outside, the man holding the sign saying *ALL HAIL CTHULHU OUR LORD AND SAVIOR* slowly nodded his head while the rest of them ran for their lives. "Badass," the man mouthed. "Bad-fucking-ass." | 277 | The creator of inhabitable worlds has dropped in on Earth to see why it is so stunted. After all, the other 7 he created at the same time in this galaxy had achieved utopia centuries ago.. Turns out that Earth is the only one to have invented religion..Boy, is the creator pissed . | 714 |
"Oh, he kept saying things like dragon-shit, dragon-jerk and oh um, well, *dragon-bastard*."
"Lies! Slander! You damn dragon*-fu*—"
"Quiet in the court!"
Old man Balsafar banged his bone gavel til it nearly broke and his face had gone whiter than his instrument of justice for it had been already a long and weary session. Sam Breakheart brought a dragon to trial and they'd had to refit the room so that the scaly beast would be able to give testimony, it'd cost a fortune, and now chaos and disruption reigned.
"Sire Breakheart of Stone Co—" said the judge before pausing. Breakheart hailed from a village with an obscene name and he did not wish to disgrace himself by uttering it. "Sire Breakheart. Hold your silence as Philiem Carnage speaks his truth of the events as he knows them."
"... Knows bugger all," Sam muttered.
"As I was saying," the great dragon Carnage continued, "I was only minding my business working out riddles in my head. Oh, perhaps the court wishes to hear one?"
Judge Balsafar sighed. "I don't think that will be—"
"I carry a greater load dead than alive. While I lie, serving many men; if I were to stand, I should serve a few. If my entrails are torn out to lie open out of doors, I bring life to all, and I give sustenance to many. A lifeless creature which bites nothing, when loaded down I run on my way yet never show my feet. What am I?"
It was a shameless attempt at gaining the favor of the jury. Who could resist the allure of a dragon's riddle?
"A shoe!" Sam Breakheart cried out. "No! A sock. Gloves. Wait, no. Don't tell me. It's the wind!"
Philiem Carnage snorted with laughter. At the sound of the tittering of the beast, Sam's cheeks turned read.
"You ... You dragon-scoundrel!"
Balfasar banged his gavel with a fury. "Sire Breakheart of Stone Coc—Oh you! Quiet! Quiet in the court!"
"I do apologize on the behalf of my client," said the slick-haired attorney Sam had dragged along, clearly unwilling. "Men of humble origin have a particular fondness for riddles, as you well know, and those of a dragon? A riddle is the poet's udders, as I like to say, and when the poet starts milking—"
"Please. Quiet. No more."
"Goat!" cried Sam. "Cow. No, the answer is: a farmer's daughter. She is a lifeless creature which bites nothing. Except Matilda Bountibrow. We grew up together and she bit me once. Twice, actually. Back in Stoneco—"
This time, judge Balsafar's gavel broke. "In the name of ..."
"Name!" shouted Sam. "The name of a great man, like Sam Breakheart, carries more weight dead than alive."
"I do beg your pardon," Sam's attorney interjected. "My client is a first-borne son and as I like to say, the first-born is the family's udd—"
"A ship."
The sonorous baritone voice of the dragon covered all who were presented as if with molasses; for a few moments all were silent. Breakheart, of course, was the first to break it.
"Holy hell."
"Quiet in the court," said the judge, but his words had little effect while banging the pencil-like remains of his gavel. He had more the look of a conductor guiding the orchestra towards a majestic zenith.
"Holy *hell*," Sam repeated. "That was a fine riddle. A ship. Did you really think that up while stomping on my orchids?"
"Oh," said the great beast. "Indeed. I found my mind wandering to sea, to its bounty and dark allure, when I chanced upon an oaken wonder."
Sam's eyes went wide. "The oak tree in my backyard? My tree helped you think of that riddle?"
"... Indeed!"
A glimmer of a tear appeared in the corner of Sam's leftmost eye and he clapped his hands together with passion. "My tree! It's a fine one. I used to climb up there, when I was younger. Me and Matilda, we would howl like wolves at the sun! She'd bite me but I'd let her because we were playing a game of pretend, you see. She loved her riddles, she did. After she caught the cold of the night I'd entertain her with riddles of my own, at least on the days when her fever broke enough for her mind to make sense of my words ... Under that oak she lies now, and one day I expect to join her there for my everslumber. Truth be told, those orchids weren't rightfully mine. They were hers. Matilda's."
The great beast sniffled. "I'm sorry. All that treasure I hoard and I can't even recognize one planted before my clumsy feet."
"It's alright," said Sam. "That was a good riddle. You magnificent dragon bi—" | 22 | I'm sorry, but dragons are sentient, so your animal attack coverage doesn't apply, destruction by sentient creatures and humans are considered vandalism. You'll have to sue them in a courtroom. | 234 |
Aliens, like humans, have soft bits and hard bits. Avoid hitting the hard with hard, and don't bother hitting the soft with soft, and you'll be fine.
Or at least, Shelton told himself that as the seven foot mass of tentacles slithered towards him. lots of soft.
one of them lashed out, whipping at where Shelton's head had been a quarter-second earlier. If the aliens had some kind of ring timer, he could dodge and weave, save himself by the bell. despite the thousands of aliens, undulating in some sick cheer, there was nothing that looked like a countdown. in fighting, you wanted the clock prominent, visible. a symbol of how long the loser had left to endure. the lack of one hadan obvious meaning; of Shelton and the alien, they both couldn't walk out of the ring.
Slither.
Whatever.
But Shelton did have space, the space was at least 50 feet a side, and hexagonal. the floor was metal though, and frigid underfoot. he didn't like the idea of hitting the deck.
another lash, cutting a wide arc, and a second in quick succession. always the same tentacle, Shelton noticed. when it was at rest, he saw why. thin metal lines, no thicker than a razor, wrapped around it. Shelton didn't want to find out what that meant. Shelton put on his thinking hat, and analysed the thing, like it was any other opponent.
deadly razor tentacle fist. bad. not something he wanted to be near.
but heavy, with lots of momentum, when it missed it went all the way round. Shelton just needed to-
his opening came before he realised how terrible an idea it was, the deadly razor tentacle fist came around, and instead of away and to safety, Shelton ducked, falling into a racing position, fingers on the floor, and then *pushed*
The Gravity must have been slightly lower, or maybe the adrenaline was just that powerful, because Shelton's elbowt ravelled seven feet straight up and into what looked like the alien's face in an instant. It recoiled, flailing, and the sound of a thousand toilets being plunged erupted from the crowd.
The Alien garbled, and reached out with an un-razored tentacle, wrapping it around Shelton's arm. it pulled, and though the thick, weird mucus meant that it couldn't grip Shelton properly, he was pulled off balance, and another tentacle, balled up into an approximation of a fist, knocked the wind out of him
Shelton had taken body hits before, any fighter worth their salt had, but a meter-long tube of pure muscle as thick as a dinner plate hit with force, and Shelton stumbled. this time, instead of toilets the crowd hooted. or at least, passed some amount of air through an office to make a noise. hooting was good, toilets were bad, Shelton guessed.
The fight drew on. Shelton learned more, found his feet, but so too did the alien. next time he went for the duck-and-elbow, he hit tentacle, which flinched, but didn't have the same reaction of the face. the alien used the deadly razor tentacle fist less and less, it was a tool made for large opponents, not a small, nimble fighter. tentatively, Shelton began to block hits, dodging used up a lot of energy, and if he was to win, he needed to conserve energy. the alien could tense or loosen muscle, depending on whether it was active or not. a tensed muscle was hard, Shelton grabbed and palmed away strikes, but a relaxed one felt oddly like foam, and it took hits well. Shelton traded blows with it, peppering whichever inactive tentacle he could reach with strikes. the alien had far more arms than he did, but that meant more to keep track of.
On his next big hit, a kick the knocked out one of the tentacles it was supporting itself on, the toilets came again, but with them a small, but noticeable, faction of people hooting. that was good, it meant he was fighting well. validation, ever weird alien validation, coursed through his veins, empowered him.
He didn't see the deadly razor tentacle fist till it was too late
a series of gashes, braiding across his torso. rough. bloody. unfortunately for the alien, Shelton had been mid-strike when it had happened, and he didn't notice till you could see the imprint of his knee of the other side of the alien's head.
cephalopods had one bone in their body, a beak. the aliens, being presumably land-based, had more, especially in their large heads. bone met bone, and good old fashioned human-made bone won out. a loud crack turned the entire alien's body a milky white before it hit the floor, and when it did, all it's muscles relaxed, the deadly razors unspooling. Shelton picked it up, cutting his fingers in the process, turned to the crowd, and lifted it
silence
disbelief
then the loudest hoot Shelton had ever heard in his life | 11 | You were captured by aliens and was put into a ring with some bloodthirsty horror for their amusement. Little do they know though, you were the current MMA world champion. | 19 |
Evil Lord Malthazar, fifth of his name, the ancient one, King of Despair, Monarch of the Damned, threw up his hands and rolled his eyes.
The images displayed in the crystal ball of seeing were once again disappointing.
“It’s just goblins,” he said, he ran a hand over his bald head and kept it there, eyes staring at the marble-tiled floor in disbelief, “How can they lose to something like goblins?”
A short demon attendant with a quick smile stood nearby, his horns stood at odd angles, “Adventurers not up your standards again, Lord Malthy?”
The demon adjusted his clothing, a full three-piece suit, slightly.
The Fortress of Doom that had been constructed by Lord Malthazar and his demonic companions had been impressive in all ways.
It had taken nearly a full thousand years to construct it.
Things had gone pretty quickly at first, but then … unions started getting involved and the demons required things like ‘Breaks’ and ‘Sleep’ and things had definitely slowed down after that.
He had to call all his minions to help in the construction of the Fortress of Doom and even then -- it took a thousand years.
“I mean, I know we only really opened up shop a few months ago,” said Malthazar, mostly to himself, “But I would’ve expected word to travel by now. Where are the heroes? Sword Saints? Grand magi? Sages?”
The demon attendant shrugged, “Perhaps they have more pressing matters elsewhere.”
Malthazar’s brow furrowed, “Mort, are we are spending enough on marketing, you think?”
The demon attendant named Mort nodded sagely, “We have sent shapeshifters to all corners of the realm to lament in excruciating detail about all the horrors and riches they’ve witnessed here.”
“Have you made sure that they mention the lava chambers on the seventieth floor?” asked Malthazar with an inch of doubt.
“I made sure to emphasize it, m’lord,” said Mort.
Malthazar grunted, then pondered, “Am I just not good enough? I mean, evil enough?”
”What do you think I should do to warrant an invasion by, by…” he began, then snapped his fingers a few times to jog his memory, “The Cardinal Heroes?”
“My lord,” said Mort, “I’m afraid those passed away roughly nine hundred years ago.”
“What!” cried Malthazar, “How can that be? Didn’t they kill Demon Lord Maxim?”
“Yes,” admitted Mort, “But they turned out to be painfully mortal, m’lord. Old age.”
“Amateurs. Don’t they know that the very first thing you chase down are the secrets to immortality?” said Malthazar, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “The Iron Brigade, then?”
”Deceased,” replied Mort.
”The Holy Trinity?”
”Passed on.”
”The Eternal Swords?”
”Departed.”
”The Scarlet Knights?”
”Me.”
"You?"
"Mort."
Malthazar sneered, “What’s with these selfish heroes! Going around dying like that. What’d I even build this place for?” he cried, “They must’ve had disciples or something? Children that they passed their techniques onto?”
“Oh, yes,” said Mort with a quick smile, which then faded, “At first.”
”Regrettably their teachings have been lost to time as the years went by,” he added, "Or they've adopted a far inferior version."
"Why'd they do that?" asked Malthazar, it was all getting a bit much.
"Reports indicate that the ancient spells and methods were too difficult or took too long to master," answered Mort.
The Evil Lord shook his head in disbelief, “There’s dangers everywhere! How will they defend themselves?”
“I hate to inform you, m’lord, but the realm has been at peace for a long time,” replied Mort.
“What?” cried Malthazar, “Since when!?”
“More or less around a thousand years ago. Around the time you called back all your minions to aid in the construction of this very fortress, m’lord,” replied Mort.
Evil Lord Malthazar pressed his lips into a line, “I see,” he said, stifling a cough.
He turned his direction back to the crystal ball, “And if I were to release some of them back onto the world? A horde of goblins, perhaps?”
“Total annihilation, m’lord,” said Mort, “They haven’t the faintest idea on how to defend themselves. In fact, those getting battered by the minions on the first floor of your fortress are the finest the realm has to offer at this time.”
“Are you telling me that this entire realm has nobody in it that would even make it to the Noxious Swamps on the fifth floor?” said Malthazar, his voice laced with anger.
The Noxious Swamps were something he was particularly proud of.
They were filled with a certain kind of bug called a Sneerbeetle that would melt you from the inside out.
The demon that had invented these had received a pat on the back, a fancy jacket, and a shove into a padded prison cell.
You can’t have people like that walking the halls.
“I am saying,” said Mort, choosing his words carefully, “There is nobody in this realm that will even make it to the second floor.”
Malthazar blinked.
Mort, indulging his master and getting into the spirit of things, also blinked.
Malthazar clenched his fists until his knuckles turned pale, “MORT!” he roared.
“Five feet away, m’lord,” replied Mort.
“GRAB MY COAT,” cried Malthazar as he stomped towards the exit.
Mort snapped his fingers and a coat appeared, it reeked of mothballs, and he swung it over his arm as he hurried after his lord, “Where are we going, m’lord?” he said once he caught up.
“To the capital of Aria,” said Maltharzar, plucking the coat from Mort’s arm.
Slightly annoyed at having to ask the obvious follow-up question, Mort spoke, “And what are we going to do there, m’lord?”
“EDUCATION,” roared Malthazar. | 124 | Your fortress of doom has been completed, and it was really fun at the start, however nobody actually gets far enough to challenge you. | 257 |
"Hi there!"
Flabbergasted I couldn't find the words.
"Don't worry normal reaction. Yes I am you. Well no I'm not. Buy I do look exactly like you."
"Wh...what? Why?" I finally mustered something to say I guess.
"Great question! And theres a great answer. But first. Let's talk. I want to know where you think you are going."
Where I am going? Do they mean heaven or hell? This must be a trick question I thought.
"I would imagine heaven?" I replied.
"Yes one can imagine but what do you truly think?"
"I think I lived a good life and helped everyone I could." I explained as convincingly as I could.
"Let's cut to the chase shall we. I have a busy day ahead of me. Alot of people died in that train accident you were in. Anyhow, remember that time behind the supermarket?"
Oh shit. They know.
"Whatever do you mean?" I fibbed.
"It is OK. You can admit it to me. I am you after all."
Oh I get it now I thought. They are trying to get me to admit it. Not going to happen. I was more devious than that.
"I can't say I know what you are talking about." I retorted smartly.
"Ok well in that case follow me." The entity replied shortly. It started off walking to seemingly nowhere.
I followed. Where I do not know, it was nothing but white and clouds. Eventually we reached a clearing in the clouds, where a lone person stood just 20 feet from us. It was a small girl.
"Go say hello" The entity had a tone that was undeniable. I had to go say hello. I began to walk.
Every step I took the image of their face became clearer. I stopped. Looked back and the entity was still watching me. Motionless. Looking at myself looking back at me was a strange feeling indeed.
When I looked back ahead to the girl in the clearing , their form had changed, more distorted and deranged, but still the same person. I already knew who it was. It was her. The one I had hurt. The one I had taken. The one I had killed. I took a few more steps, I had no choice but to continue as the entity instructed.
The girl was becoming more and more deformed, crazed, frightening. Her form was twisting and bending, reaching out to me. She started to wail in a way that could only be taken for excitement. Her mouth hung open, stretched unnaturally. Her eyes rolled into her head. Her hair rose as she let out an especially long shrieking wail.
I looked back again at the entity, knowing my fate was sealed. It was no longer my own face looking back at me. In its place the entity's true form became visible. It was the most awe inspiring yet frightening being I have ever witnessed. Its unwordly existence burned into my brain. I couldn't bear to comprehend what it was, what it was capable of. If it wasn't god, then it was the closest thing to it. Unfathomable eyes and limbs, in every direction. Wings of flesh and feather, a body that could not be seen yet its presence was there. Its form existed in a plane of reality that my mind could not imagine. I crumbled to my knees. My soul broken.
The entity's image scorched my eyes and it is the last memory I have before being grabbed by the twisted girl behind me. Her deformed arms wrapped around me, pulling at my flesh. Together we began to fall from the sky. Into the void where the entity's image is all I have ever known or felt since. | 37 | It's over, you're dead, and now as you stand before the gates of Heaven, you can't help but notice a figure in the corner of your eye, reading a book. You approach him and greet him. He looks up and your blood freezes. The face you're looking into... is your own. | 62 |
Marvin Entwistle had been a very busy man in his life. In death, he has brought me nothing but headaches.
I woke up to sixteen missed calls and a voice-mail from a client moaning into the mic. Dad, probably lost his jaw again. I made a note to send one of the boys over to check in.
I had never planned on life as a Bonehead. Nec-Law wasn't a specialty most entered into if given a choice, and I had been studying for handling common probate cases and real estate claims when I got out of law school. Then my roommate had decided to get involved with Sandra, she had a client who needed a bulletproof postmort, and I learned something about myself.
I loved working with the dead.
I had grown up in the Crypts, where most living folks came when they were financially dead to wait for the end and mingle with the mold and mildew crowd. My dad had had the bad luck of getting into an accident that put him into severe debt to a well-known if not well-liked family of hearse chasers, and so he brought my sister and I down with him. We didn't even have enough to bring Mom back, but we had enough to get her cremated and file the Rite of Finality, making sure she wasn't punished in the Hereafter for her husband's inability to yield at a merge.
Sandra looked worse for wear as she made coffee, her ratty robe belted and barely hanging on. As a State sponsored Raiser she usually had good leads on cases, but my load was taken off fully with the Entwistle backlog and I was hoping to get a fat check and finally clear out Dad's last bit of remaining debt ahead of the compound date.
"You look terrible," she said, slapping jam on a scone and sliding it across the kitchen island. I wolfed it down while I read the news of the day. PM York was up for his thirty-ninth challenge in two hundred years as the Finalists pushed for a return to 'life-centered politics'. Protests at the White House over military death servitude, the living requesting the removal of the Greys from payroll. The Czar threatening sanctions on the satellite states for attempting to part from the Coalition of Risen Kings.
"I've been better. This Entwistle case is just, it's killing me." I took a tall coffee and slammed it down, checking sports as Sandra went to wake the roommate.
Donny had seen better days. While the rich could pay for the best embalmers and proper Preservation, guys like us in the Crypts got what we got and didn't complain. Donny shrugged into a sweater at the table, and I could see the staples and Bondo that held him together these days.
"We're... out of... milk..." He whispered, his glass eye point in one direction while his other stared hazily at me. "I'll... pick some up... when I'm off shift."
Donny worked the kind of gigs Stiffs could get anymore. Mining, digging through the heaps of trash for recoverable trinkets, and when the money was tight he'd sign up for the Underground. Even with the population of living dwindling we loved our bloodsport, and watching a Stiff get mangled by a chainsaw or lit on fire got the rich folks to pay big, even for kids from the Crypts. Poor Donny could land six months of rent for this firetrap for a night of punishment, feeling about as much discomfort as having a tooth pulled, but it wore on a body.
I had my money saved to Check Out before I got out of law school.
"Thanks Donny. I gotta get going, but you two have a better day." I'd get a shower at the office, and head on my way.
The Hack that pulled up to take me was a new guy. Some young kid who had scraped up enough money to buy out a few ragged Stiff's contracts to tie them together like mules to get anybody who could where they were going. After cars got too expensive and the PM shut down all public transportation during the time of Drop Sickness the Hacks had filled in the gap and held on for dear life. He looked me over, seeing the threadbare suit and skull and balance badge I wore as a member in good standing of the Court, and I saw the wheels start spinning.
"Off to the Morgue then, boss?" the Hack asked, sucking on a piece of hard candy. "Rate's gone up overnight."
I sighed, handed him my card, and got in the back to sort this Entwistle case out. It was going to be a long day in chambers. | 17 | It's hard being an estate lawyer in the land of necromancy. | 75 |
The Flesh Moon arrived with no announcement, no warning. One moment the sky was clear; seconds later, it was there. A writhing mass of flesh, tentacles and sinew the size of the old Moon staring down at us. And its gaze led to change.
Our bodies would twist and contort in manners we'd describe as grotesque; flesh melted into flesh, bones shattered and formed patterns hitherto unheard of. The changes were not uniform, but not entirely random either; most found their newfound bodies to reflect their needs. Soldiers gained a carapace akin to kevlar and muscle mass beyond our previous limits. Surgeons grew extra limbs, runners extra legs and thigh muscle. One thing was consistent, though.
We were all better.
Once, my back would scream in pain the moment I turned too quickly. My eyes would fail me when trying to read anything more than half a meter away. Most importantly... I stood up, leaving that blasted wheelchair behind.
The Moon came suddenly. Yes, we screamed and lamented as we saw our bodies morph, but we now understand the blessing this was. You may call our new forms Chaotic; we'd call them beautiful.
The Imperium doesn't understand. Calls us tainted, heretical, corrupted by Chaos. Nurgle, Tzeentch, Slaanesh - they blame them all. Shortsighted fools, all of them. They'll come to try and destroy our beauty. We won't let them. Even if we are to be named Chaos, we are all together, like family.
We are Chaos Undivided. | 1,134 | An Eldritch Moon suddenly appears in the sky, and you and billions others scream as you turn into horribly corrupted mounds of flesh... But your eyesight is better? And your back pains are gone? And apparently you’re immortal now so... Maybe things aren’t that bad... | 2,997 |
Our scientists had finally figured out how to utilise dark matter; we developed near-lightspeed travel. Next we learned to harness anti-matter; we broke through the light barrier. We spread out across the cosmos in search of other intelligent life, but no matter where we looked we couldn't find any other intelligent societies. Other life, yes, but nothing more advanced than the simplest lifeforms. All simulations refuted the possibility that we were the only intelligent life, and so we kept searching. We terraformed planets along the way to act as bases and comm stations. 1164 years after the start of the new Space Date calendar, one by one, they went dark.
It was the year SD1273 when they finally reached our homeworld, Earth. We had spent 109 years preparing for them. Our scientists focused all their attention on weapons and defense systems, and warfare tech leapt further and faster than it had at any point in our history; a history wrought with warfare, where developing more efficient methods to kill our own was the impetus behind the vast majority of technological development. Now we had an outside threat to focus our bloodlust towards. Even then, it was barely enough.
Earth's population plummeted from 12.7 billion to 2.3 billion during a gruelling war that lasted just over 7 years. We'd started out strong, surprising the would-be invaders with our strength and tenacity in the first year, but their tech was superior to ours. We spent the next 5 on the defensive. In the final year, their attacks lost their luster, decreased in frequency, and eventually stopped. We'd managed to fend them off!
Or so we thought...
Shortly after the last of their warships left our orbit, all communications across the globe received the same message: "Well done, worthy adversaries. You have proven yourselves capable. Welcome to the cosmos, Earth."
It had been a test. A test to determine whether we were... worthy to stand alongside the already existing species in what we learned was an Intergalactic Union. To ensure we were capable of joining in with their war games and providing sufficient "entertainment" for them all. A goddamned TEST that killed 79% of our people!
It was a test they'd come to fucking rue.
You see, as I mentioned earlier, Humanity is a species behind which the driving motivation for advancement was not curiosity, a desire to learn and understand, the need to explore; no, it was a drive to be better at killing. We are a truly barbaric species. And when our entire attention is turned towards a single goal - especially the goal of destroying an enemy - we see an exponential increase in the rate at which we improve and develop. Had they done their research before deciding to "test" us, they would have known to never anger us, for we are consistent in only our desire to obliterate those that wrong us.
It is now 70 years since we were "admitted" to the Intergalactic Union. And during those 70 years we have done nothing but prepare for our inaugural war game. It is a war game that will see Humanity as the *only* survivor! | 276 | "Well done, worthy adversaries. You have proven yourselves capable. Welcome to the cosmos, Earth." | 729 |
"Dammit, this is the fourth one this month" Alyra sighs as she puts out the fire beneath the cauldron of boiling water. What a good soup that could have become, had she not been interrupted.
She leaves her comfortable wooden home and calmly walks over to the metal hatch that serves as entry to humanity's last great mark on Terra. With the help of the elevator, she descends to the comm room where her assistant connects to the vessel that is currently orbiting her planet. With the translation software running smoothly, she is ready to get this over with.
Clearing her voice, she speaks "Good day to you. You are being contacted by Alyra Gordon, overseer of planet Terra. I have opened communications with you in order to clarify the status of the planet you have approached.
After a short silence, the foreign ship responds. "What the... We have scanned this planet and it only revealed primitive life forms, I didn't expect we would be contacted like this. I am Admiral Gallahan, and my migrant fleet has been looking for a planet to rest and gather supplies from. Would you mind explaining the situation?" the voice was strange and high-pitched.
"Certainly. Although it might be hard to tell, this planet is the property of The United Coalition of Humanity. Only one human resides on it and hardly any remnants of our civilization remain on its surface, however, it is the site of one of our oldest projects. This is why I must ask you to continue your search for a suitable planet elsewhere." she said, leaning back in her chair and waiting for their response.
"Ridiculous. Humanity claims to own an entire garden world that is clearly still wild, with only one of its members on it? It is ripe for exploitation, yet you would deny those in need of its resources?" interestingly the pitch of the voice lowered, perhaps expressing anger.
"It is clearly stated in the rules imposed by the galactic council that at least one member of a species must be present on a planet for it to retain its status as that species' property. Had it not been that way, my presence would not be required. If it is the legality of it all that you are concerned with, I have already transmitted all of the documents proving ownership to you."
"And I have received them. However, I cannot abide by this. Humanity's civilization is settled a dozen solar systems away, prospering and needing for nothing, and yet for some reason, they claim a random planet orbiting an unremarkable star as their own, choosing to do nothing with it. Denying others who need it more than they do. I'm sorry miss Alyra, perhaps you are not solely responsible for your species' choice in this matter, but we are a proud people and will not stand by this injustice. Eliminating humanity's only representative should solve our problems" the admiral concludes, as the woman sighs.
In a bored tone, as though she already knows her actions are futile but is still required to follow protocol, she speaks "I must advise against such an attack. Humanity is willing and able to pro-" her words were cut short by the beeping of the map next to her, showing that the planetary magnetic missile shield had just intercepted a direct strike from a quantum laser cannon. Giving up on her earlier warning, she proceeds with an announcement.
"Having recorded that the first strike has been dealt by one of your ships, I am now permitted to open fire"
Targeting the exact ship that first fired, she uses the defense system of her bunker to swiftly take it out. She also takes this time to analyze the foreign ships. As she had been informed, they were a migrant fleet, and some of their ships were certainly housing unarmed civilians. What a risky move this is on their part, it would be nice to settle this without that many casualties, she thought.
The gigantic hunk of metal was blasted away in seconds, hardly leaving any wreckage behind as it disintegrated. "Be warned that if you fire again, all of your ships are liable to get caught in the crossfire," she said.
"You would go that far to defend this empty planet? You would kill millions of my people ...for this?"
"I'm sorry Admiral, but you see, humans are melancholic creatures. One after another, we had several scientific breakthroughs that brought us to prosperity we never would have thought possible, immortality, travel at the speed of light, and true artificial intelligence, in only a few of our years, we had it all. Just as we were getting ready to leave for greener horizons, we couldn't help but spare a guilty glance back at our home. Dirty, polluted, dying, old Earth, the pale blue dot that was bathed in the blood of our wars, that had seen all of our accomplishments, that was sickened by our exploitation. We reached a consensus at some point, that we wouldn't leave our planet in that sorry state. As a parting gift, we cleaned it up. The others took the monuments of our past with them to their new home and left Terra as clean as they could manage, in the hopes of preserving whatever was left of the fauna and flora that evolved alongside our species. I've been stationed here ever since, monitoring and protecting this planet from outside intervention. Does the full story suffice? Is this enough to convince you that we won't give up on this planet so easily?"
"I... understand now. We can hardly remember how long ago we lost our home planet, we would never take it away from another species. If you would allow us to leave, we would be willing to do so."
"You are permitted to depart, I wish you luck in your search." she says.
After confirming that all of the vessels have left earth orbit, she gets up from her chair and leaves the cold metal construction, heading instead to her cabin. She notices that, on the table, where she had left a few chopped-up tomatoes, there was now an uncomfortable amount of flies. Defeated, she takes the tomatoes and tosses them out on the ground, for nature and the bugs to reclaim.
"Annoying, but perhaps there is something beautiful in the mechanisms of nature"
Leaning on the creaky wooden structure that she had built for herself, she gazes at the distant forest. A forest that, only a thousand years ago, had been destroyed by the greed of her people. Now, the trees rose so high up in the sky that she was having trouble seeing the sunset behind them.
"It is good to be home" she chuckles to herself
The end
////////////
Man, I really shouldn't have stayed up so late to write this, I'm sure the quality is pretty bad, especially the second half, I didn't even finish the ending. I might adjust it tomorrow...
Anyway, constructive feedback is always welcome. I'm new at this so feel free to tell me why you think it sucked so I can improve.
Edit: I did adjust it! Hopefully the ending is ok
Also, I really didn't expect to wake up today to so many upvotes and positive comments, thank you all! | 685 | The year is 3015 and you’re the last person on earth. You’re outside farming and growing your dinner like usual when suddenly you hear a loud, distorted voice from the sky saying “Yeah this planet will do…” | 1,067 |
He gets ready in the morning, picking from the pile of clothes in the corner of the room. He had learned long ago that the dressers were fake in his room, and anything he put in the one in his parent's room may just disappear if the wrong person came into the house and decided to take what they found. The Strangers always came, always wearing the same type of slack-jawed expression. He had hidden under the bed the first few times, watching them demand answers from his parents, rifle their pockets.
Occasionally one of these Strangers would run Mom or Dad through with a sword. He learned from an early age it wasn't worth crying, they'd be right as rain in the morning.
He came downstairs to the kitchenette, toasting a few slices of bread over the always-on burner. He used one of the strange square plates, a packet of jelly he had brought from Outside, and had breakfast.
"I think I'll go Out today. Probably should study."
"It's a nice day outside! Have you seen the GREEN MAN?"
"It is pretty nice. I'll see you later Mom.
"It's a nice day outside! Have you seen the GREEN MAN?"
As he walked through the perfectly straight grass, gazing at the square sun and blocky clouds, he thought about the monkey. He had learned of the Monkey when he was Out, going to school.
"You see," he said to the old man at the beach just a few hundred feet from his house, "there's these monkeys. Twins. Baby monkeys. One? They put in a nice soft room. The other? They put in a metal box."
He takes off his shoes, looking towards the old man's boat. He had wanted the boat for ages. To go beyond the Beach and see what was out there.
"They feed both monkeys. One, the soft one? He's fed from a big soft plushy monkey mama." he takes the knife some Stranger had dropped in his closet and prepares for his morning ritual. "The metal room? It's from a scary monkey mama. All metal and spiky."
It's easy. Right under the ribs. The old man doesn't even blink.
"Itttttts a niiiiice d-d-day on the b-b-bzz-beach. Top b-b-b-ad you don't have a BOAT." the old man doesn't bleed, doesn't cough, but lies there. The boat glows green, a caret appearing above.
"Anyways, they give them time. And the babies? They learn to eat. Then, after a week or two? They switch the babies around. " He doesn't know why he brings the old man along every day, dead in the bottom of the boat. It just feels right.
He paddles the boat out, humming a tune he hears every morning that starts loud and then gets quiet. He used to hate that tune, waking him. Now sometimes he sits up, waiting for it to come. But he's always asleep when it does.
"They switch them around. And the soft baby? Well, it's afraid of the evil metal monkey mama. And it starves." He rifles the old man's pockets, grabbing the gold coins. Outside there's a guy who buys them, says they're cool memorabilia. Whatever that means. To him it means a full belly and a respite from this place.
He finally arrives. The end of the ocean. The Wall stands before him, glittering bright, an infinitely tall wall of light. Written in glyphs he sees the legend of this place.
ƎᆿI⅃ ƎHT ИI YAႧ A
ƧЯƎYA⅃Գ ς
ЯƎYA⅃Գ Ɩ
TЯATƧ ƧƧƎЯԳ
"But the real weird part? The monkey that's been raised in that metal scary box? He starves too. Because all he can do is sit and hug the stuffed plushy mommy."
He does the ritual. Step up, up, back back, left to right, left to right, punch left right right left and...
He throws himself through the Wall. He lands in the same place everytime. A dusty bar basement, a forgotten place. Strangers rarely find their way here anymore, but when they do they play and play and play, then they get tired and he can't sleep until he comes out and finds one to keep playing.
He pats the knife in his pocket, loving it like a good little monkey. He knows there's plenty of comfy spots here, and he knows how to feed himself just fine. | 49 | We've all heard of the man who was raised by wolves, but have you ever heard of the man who was raised by NPCs? | 124 |
It all started on that first, original loop. The one where our History teacher was killed in front of us, as he threw one of our classmates out of the way of an incoming vehicle. We watched as, instead of Graeme, the vehicle struck Mr. Ketterson and continued straight into the side of a building. Pinned to the wall, his abdomen crushed and the light fading from his eyes, a small group of us were near enough to hear his final lament:
"I wish I didn't have to die..."
The real shock was the sourceless reply:
"As you so desire!"
Since then, we've been caught in a loop. A loop that resets to that very morning, at morning attendance. It reset with the death of Mr. Ketterson. The 5 of us who heard his wish, and the ensuing response, recall the details of the prior loops. And it's fortunate we did, otherwise it would have gone on forever! As it stands, we've reset 17,653,821 times. In otherwords, Mr. Ketterson has died 17,653,821 times. Each time, we used our knowledge of each subsequent loop to avert each new death.
Sometimes, there'd be multiple causes of death in a single "day" (i.e. we would prevent one cause, just for some other tragedy to result in Mr. Ketterson's demise that same day, resetting the loop), while others we could go months without incident. The record was 2 years, 8 months, 3 days between saving him and the next incident.
Right at this moment, though, we are all gathered around Mr. Ketterson's - no, we moved past that a long time ago. We are gathered around Harold's hospital bed to say farewell. To him, it has been around 37 years since he saw Graeme walking into the path of a vehicle outside of school, and before he could react, Phil raced past and dragged Graeme back by his blazer. What followed must have been a strange 37 years of being continuously saved by one of the 5 of us. Each time, we'd explain everything; it became easier to convince him with each subsequent loop and the ever increasing "near-misses" he's experienced.
"Thank you, boys." He rasps, dragging my mind out of it's reverie and back to the present. His voice barely above a whisper, as we lean in to hear him. "You've done more than I can ever know for me. I could never repay you if I had infinite lives."
"It has been rough, but it has certainly been a unique experience for us," I joke, my voice strained with barely contained emotion as I gaze into the unseeing eyes of the man we've all helped reach the natural end of his life.
"You've all grown into fine men... Promise me one thing when I'm gone. Live for yourselves." He breathes as his eyes flutter shut. "I'm sorry. I'm so tired lately. I think... I'll just have... a little nap..."
His words trail off as his breathing softens and slows. Within a minute the machine attached to him to monitor his vitals lets out a sharp, shrill, prolonged beep to indicate his heart has stopped. The doctor in the room turns it off without emotion.
"Time of death: 1807, Tuesday October 25th 2022," he states, as he folds the sheets over the face of the now lifeless corpse of Harold Ketterson.
The 5 of us gathered all close our eyes and bow our heads in a final farewell.
I can actually feel the moment my sanity snaps when I open my eyes to see the back of Julian's head in the seat in front of me, Mr. Ketterson standing at the front of the class taking register, and it hits that the loop cannot be broken. The wish will not permit Mr. Ketterson to die, by *any* cause. And my mind instantly comes to the conclusion that an eternity of incomprehensibility is preferable to an eternity of pointless repetition. | 134 | Decades ago you and your school friends were stuck in a time loop until you prevented the murder of your history teacher. Today you all reunite to visit him dying in the hospital... and find yourself back in that history class the moment he dies. The time loop never ended. | 458 |
"Excuse me mister! Excuse me! Mister! Excuse me!" The young biped waved his fleshy arm in the air excitedly. He was being far too loud, the library is a silent refuge, not a playground. As I floated down from the shelves that scrape the sky the young biped jumped up and down excitedly.
"Shhh! We whisper in the library. Not yell. What may I do for you?" I asked the young creature. It was speechless, its eyes filled with wonder as it poked my liquid metal shell. The ripples cascading over my spherical shape.
"Can I give you my book? I heard that it will come true if I do." The biped stretched its arms out grasping a crudely bound book, the cover a crayon drawing of a black cat lying on a couch.
"As curator of the library I must read it first. Let me show you to the reading area." I floated ahead with the slow biped in tow to the cozy nook of the reading room, where knowledge and imagination reign supreme. Creatures of all shapes and sizes studied their favorite works. I manifested a comfy chair for the small creature and absorbed the book.
A picture book, crudely drawn and badly narrated. I determined it to have no artistic, scientific, historic, or philosophic merit. I returned the book to the thing. "No I cannot take your book. It does not belong on these shelves. Sorry to disappoint you."
The young one was not deterred. "Maybe you didn't get it."
What an audacious creature. Since the dawn of reality I have gathered and studied the finest works from every corner of the universe. Cataloguing them, using them to shape reality according to my design. Yet this pitiful creature questions me. "It's going to take a lot to convince me, think you can do it?"
The young one excitedly nodded his head. He started with the cover.
"This is Mr. Mittens, he was my cat. My family's cat. He had really long whiskers and bright green eyes, he was really soft too." The young one's voice was happy and innocent. Nowhere in the text was Mr. Mittens named. The biped continued.
"So this story is about him. There's my mom and dad and little sister Susie bringing Mr. Mittens home from the shelter. He was the runt of the litter, that's why I drew him so small."
The young child explained the various adventures of Mr. Mittens in details that were not present in the book itself. It was starting to make more sense. The last two pages were coming up.
"This is when we all had to say goodbye to Mr. Mittens, that's Dr. Allen, she's a good kitty doctor. But she couldn't help Mr. Mittens, there was something wrong with his heart. Susie cried a lot when it happened. Then the last page is Mr. Mittens going over the rainbow, that's my grandma in the background waiting for him."
I gave it a second thought but I wanted to be sure I was correct. "Why do you want this publication in the library?"
"Maybe if it's true that Mr. Mittens is safe and happy with grandma in heaven it'll be true and Susie won't be so sad anymore. I don't like seeing her cry so much, I miss Mr. Mittens too. That'll happen if the book is here right?" The child's eyes welled with tears.
I reabsorbed the book and floated up to a shelf right near the door, depositing it in the "Librarian's choice" section.
\[Author's note: Whoa did not expect this story to blow up like this. Thank you so much for the great comments and awards!\] | 529 | You are a keeper of a library where every book placed inside it becomes reality whether it be the rules of physics or history. Every day you allow creatures to read them to better understand the universe but today some bipedal mammal named “Geoff” is asking to put a new book inside the library. | 662 |
"Don't you think it's time to address this? Now that it's said, it's easier to process, isn't it?"
"What? I don't need to address anything. There's nothing wrong with me."
"You just admitted you were attracted to a member of the same sex. That's perfectly natural, you-"
"NO! No I didn't, don't twist my words, that's so typical of doctors, to-"
"Inside voice, Lucian. Please."
Lucian began to whisper yell, his caustic yellow eyes in the doctor's face. "I'm not some degenerate mutant, some blasphemer of-"
"Luce. Reign it in, come on let's do the breath holds."
Lucian took in a deep breath and aligned his back, exhaled and just as quickly took another breath and held it.
"Good. Remember, you're safe here. You're not being judged."
"Godjudgesmeeveryday." The words strained out of his mouth.
"God judges everyone. That's his job, you can't take it personally."
"You judge me. Everyone judges everyone, that's just natural humanity."
"I thought you weren't human? Why would it matter to you?"
"Because..." Lucian started before trailing off and staring off into space. "Oh my god."
Lucian sat up, his hands resting on his legs and looking at Doctor Franqunshteen. "You're very good." | 26 | A vampire that has lived for thousands of years recently finds out they're not heterosexual and have a major breakdown about it. | 65 |
I hate being a freelancer. It’s a pain in the butt trying to get clients to pay.
“The crux of my argument, your honor,” my lawyer said in a booming voice to the courtroom, “is that the defendant over there, Catherine—”
He jabbed a pointer finger to the defendant's table where a woman with enormous glasses and frizzy hairdo sat, “promised my client her firstborn child first.”
I fidgeted in my seat. I didn’t have the money to chase after every client that didn’t pay. Witches aren’t unionized, after all. But I’d been lucky enough to find a lawyer who understood the situation I was in.
“So despite what Mr. Devil’s Advocate over there says,” my lawyer jabbed a finger at the silvery haired man dressed in aristocratic robes wreathed in shimmering green flames, “As a matter of common law, and let’s face it, common sense, you cannot promise someone something after you have already entered into an agreement with someone else in exchange for the same piece of property. The “property” in this case, being of course, the defendant’s firstborn child.”
I gulped. I hadn’t met my quota of human babies this month, and things were looking bad. And in this market? This economy? I couldn’t afford letting this client squirrel her way out of payment. My savings were not looking good.
The judge nodded almost automatically, adjusting the glasses on her face.
The Devil’s Advocate stepped forward.
“I do not argue against that,” he said in a deep baritone voice, and it was hard to hear him over the sound of the crackling fire on his robes, “But I simply must point out that the only proof of agreement between the witch and the defendant is a verbal agreement. Now, those are fine and all, but..”
The Devil’s Advocate rolled out a long scroll that fell to the floor, also wreathed in flickering green flames.
“I have a written contract here which is signed with Catherine’s blood, which as we all know, is a stronger agreement when it comes to the transfer of property, which the firstborn human child would be considered to be.”
The Devil’s Advocate pulled up the scroll, and it flew up and furled into itself, vanishing in a puff of green smoke.
“And let’s be real here,” the Devil’s Advocate shook his head, “A contractual agreement with the Devil himself has much more legal sway than a verbal agreement with a witch. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but it is what the law has decided, with Morningstar vs Baba Yaga serving as precedent.”
The Devil’s Advocate jabbed a finger at me, and I nearly jumped.
“Should we allow this lowly witch to collect the firstborn just because she happened to be there when the defendant was in a moment of desperation?”
He slammed a fist on his desk.
“Nay, I say. Nay!”
I let out an exhale. I exchanged a worried glance with my lawyer, but he smiled, slowly melting my worries away.
“No one is above the law,” my lawyer said in a whisper, “It does not matter if the defendant made an agreement with God himself or a lowly peasant, it’s a matter of common sense that you cannot promise someone something when you have already given it away.”
“You have no proof that your client even entered into an agreement with Catherine,” The Devil’s Advocate said, leering. “For all we know, she went around promising her baby to every person she met on the street.”
This was it. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. Ever since a particularly nasty client had screwed me over for months of pay, I’d gone to my grandma in Salem and asked her what she did when clients suddenly decided nooo, it was their baby, how could you take my baaaaby and other unprofessional drivel. She’d handed me the heaviest spell book I’d ever seen, telling me it was a legal reference for witches written by a lawyer witch herself, instructing witches how they should protect themselves in a court of law.
“It just so happens,” my lawyer said softly, “That my client made sure to place the mark of sacrifice upon the back of the defendant’s head as they made the deal. This mark is proof of agreement between a witch and a human, and contains enough magic for our court to be able to determine when the spell was cast, and whose baby was assigned to be sacrificed.”
I looked over to the defendant’s table. Catherine’s jaw had dropped to the ground. The Devil’s Advocate looked shaken as well.
“I can’t see anything on the defendant’s head,” came the Judge’s calm voice.
My lawyer wagged a finger, unable to contain the excitement on his face.
“This mark is revealed when a servant of the devil places his hand on the mark, as all witches invoke the power of the devil to do their work. Not an everyday demon, but a servant to the devil himself.”
He strode over to where Catherine was sitting.
“And since the mark can only be revealed by a servant of the devil,” he smiled at The Devil’s Advocate, who stepped back in response, “Who more fitting to ask than the Devil’s Advocate himself?”
“I..” The Devil’s Advocate trailed off. Beads of sweat were visible on his forehead, which evaporated almost instantly because he was on fire.
Murmurs erupted from the jury. The judge leaned forward in her chair.
“As the Devil’s Advocate, I cannot do something that would go against His Infernal Majesty’s interests,” the Devil’s Advocate said simply. “I am here on his behalf. I cannot agree to reveal any such marking, even if it existed.”
The gentle thud of a gavel pulled all eyes towards the judge.
“This case has gone on for too long already,” the judge said, “If you require a servant of the devil to reveal the mark, you will need more time to get an appropriate expert. The court sees no problem extending the case further, but would you please consider it, Mr. Devil’s Advocate, so that we might head towards a faster verdict?”
All eyes were on the Devil’s Advocate. He looked to the floor, appearing forlorn. Then he took a breath and looked into the judge’s face.
“What kind of Devil’s Advocate would I be..” he said in that baritone voice, “If I testified against the devil himself?”
“No,“ he said, crossing his arms. “
I felt my stomach sink. The court could delay my case for as long as they wanted. But I did not quite have the money to survive without settling this soon, while the devil had deep pockets. I was the desperate one here. I needed a faster verdict or I would be homeless soon.
I looked up at my lawyer, tears almost welling up in my eyes. He’d fought a good fight. He’d taken on my case for this long. But we needed a high ranking devil and didn’t have it. Who knows how many months it would take to get one? This wasn’t an everyday demon that I could summon at any time. A A Devil’s servant was much higher ranking devil, and honestly, their services didn’t come cheap.
“Would you like to end this and reconvene at a later date?” The Judge asked gently.
I rose to my feet, thinking about my options. None of this would be a problem if I had money. All of the solutions required time. Time which I didn’t have. If I dismissed the case, I would be able to save a little money and carry on working until another payment arrived. If I continued the case, I would have more expenses that would leave me broke very, very soon. It felt like being squeezed from all sides.
“You’re looking a little worried there,” came a gentle voice. I looked up to see my lawyer gazing at me with concern.
“I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” I whispered to him.
“I ask again,” came the judge’s voice, “Will you be asking for another extension?”
“I don’t think I can drag this on any more,” I said. The settlement from this would be a major help, but I really didn’t have months to spare.
He looked into my eyes for several moments.
“I told you I’d take care of this.”
“You have,” I said, “But..”
“Could you please give the court an answer?” came the Judge’s voice again.
“There’s no need for an extension,” my lawyer boomed to the court.
“But I can’t—“ and before I could finish, he placed his hands on my shoulders and pressed me down into my chair.
“Just watch.”
I felt a buzzing in my head.
The lawyer strode over to where Catherine was sitting.
“Could you please stand and show us the back of your head?”
“I told you I won’t do it,” The Devil’s Advocate said, “Why are you—“
The lawyer chuckled.
“I can’t pretend I work directly for the devil or anything,” the lawyer said softly, as Catherine rose to her feet.
“But I am a lawyer. And that should be enough, I think.”
He gently tapped the back of her head to reveal shimmering white spider lines that sprouted and snaked the back of her head to form a sigil.
The judge raised her glasses, nodding at the sheer magical power seeping out of her scalp.
Catherine slumped over, clearly knowing when she was defeated. The Devil’s Advocate let out a sigh.
“Well, there you have it, folks," my lawyer said, flashing me a smile.
I gave my lawyer the happiest smile I’d felt in my life. | 27 | A woman made a deal with a witch and a demon. Both are demanding custody of her firstborn. Family court is about to get interesting. | 99 |
I blinked, looking around.
It was my village, but here was joy once more, people hugging each other and tears streaming down their eyes.
It was a joyous day, I remembered. In the dust choked plains, we were free on this day.
Flags of green and red and black streamed after kids who ran to their parents and elders, hugging each other as we had liberated ourselves from the brutal uplanders who had repressed all the other ethnic groups who couldn't muster the strength to stand up to them.
We now controlled our own destiny. We had the arms to fight them. We had our oil fields to bankroll the fight, if need be.
We were a nation.
I picked myself up off the ground and looked around. Some people looked back at me, curious as to my familiarity.
I couldn't blame them. To them, I looked...
Aarya burst from the crowd, pushing her way to me. I remember her brown shawl hiding her beautiful braided hair.
"Faiz? What are you still doing here? I thought you had enlisted with the army?" she huffed at me as she held her hands on her hips, etching an eyebrow at my presence.
I had to lie.
"I was granted leave, to see my mom," I said, looking sheepish.
She rolled her eyes and took me by the hand. "Whatever. I hope that you didn't desert. You better have a good explanation for her."
We threaded our way through the crowds, some of my friends also confusedly waving or shouting my name. I waved back, again trying not to be too obtrusive. Most went back to watching their TVs or phones of the news. They pointed and conversed about what the upcoming months would hold. How a strong nation backed us, giving us the weapons and protection we needed for the future.
Yes...the future...
After moving through the last dense cluster of people, we made it to a small communal gathering of building on the edge of the village.
Aarya dragged me into my home, my family gathered about.
"Hasifa!" she shouted.
I almost shrank away at that moment, for who other than my mother turned to me, her eyes lighting up first in delight, then confusion.
All my cousins and aunts and uncles varied their reaction the same, but it was my mother who came forward first, away from the radio that was blaring some urgent news at that point.
Aarya stepped away, smiling as my mother came in for a hug only she could provide.
I melted in her grasp.
"My son...my stupid, stupid son," she muttered as she put her head into my chest.
I closed my eyes and put my head upon hers and grabbed on tight.
We held each other for as long as her patience allowed.
I could have done it forever, if I could.
She pulled out and put me at arms length to size me up.
She smiled, but it was a sad smile.
"You changed your mind?" she asked, thinking I had indeed deserted.
I just stared at her, and smiled back.
"I wish I did," was all I could say.
She took my words and processed them, a bit confused.
"So why are you here then?" she asked. "If not for the army, why are you back?"
I couldn't explain why, for there was little that I could say, other than...
"I want to be with you, and the family, for this," I said as I gestured outside, the din of the excitement echoing through the house.
She smiled again, and took me by the hand and patted it.
"Of course...of course," she said comforting. "Aarya, could you help me? I'm going to prepare dinner..."
Aarya nodded and followed her to the kitchen, leaving me to answer my family's repeat questions of my return.
I humored them, same as everyone, for who else could I tell of where I came from, three days from now?
Three days of independence, followed by nothingness?
I died under a nuclear explosion, far from home, in a desert with my comrades.
I awoke here, back in my village, the knowledge of everything that transpired over the course of three days.
Of powers beyond my control that had decided that a cold war should grow hot.
And nothing would change that as I awoke time and time again, forever experiencing the same flaming holocaust no matter where I went or what I did.
I lived through every single death, only to arrive back here, at the moment a gavel hit a desk a thousand miles away in our new capital, where the crowds cheered and the banners fluttered with urgency as a new nation coalesced from a paper that said we were free.
But we were not free, for my people died three days later.
And I would die with them too.
But then I would be born again.
And every time, knowing what I knew, I would come back home and pretend everything was alright, and give my mother peace, and my next door neighbor the attention I never gave her when I trained for the army to defend our independence, would be a first for them each time and another repetition of a cycle I couldn't control.
And every third day, I'd take them all to the kitchen, where piles of steaming food would be there, made with love, and my next door neighbor would blush as I made everyone laugh, and then we hugged as the force of an angry sun would catapult me back again, where I would have to live through the birth of my nation as it died three days later... | 158 | You are suddenly transported to the oldest time of your country's history, and you discover that you are immortal, indestructible, infinitely patient and strong, have access to all of humanity's future knowledge, and can summon any object from your timeline. You set out to change the world. | 466 |
(CW: mention of extreme violence)
“Aaaagh.” Azazel ran his hands down his face, pitch-black claws relaxed and limp. When he opened his eyes, it was with a yellow, thousand-yard stare.
“Can’t be that bad.” Stolas leaned back in his chair, one talon on the ground. “I mean, you’ve had worse patients, right?”
“No! No, I haven’t! Look, when Lucifer said he didn’t want to leave anybody stuck in the lake of fire, I was thinking, you know, thieves. Adulterers.” Azazel said. His serpentine neck waved when he shook his head. “This guy, I have to *work* to keep from erupting into hellfire. If I lose control for half a second, poof, we backslide.”
“What’s the case?” Stolas says. “I got some accountant right now who can’t for the life of him grasp why leaving his wife on her 70th birthday was a bad idea. He assumes she knew it was for economic reasons. I swear it’s gonna take a simulation loop or something.”
Azazel nodded, his slit pupils narrowing in irritation. “Name’s Mukhulai. Famous guy, fantastic integrity and loyalty and genius, really empathetic and emotionally intelligent. Tiny problem: none of that empathy extends anywhere except his subordinates.”
Stolas wrinkled his brow a moment or two, feathers rumpling and fluffing out, then shook his head. “No fuckin’ clue. Help me out.”
“Oh, he only helped raze most of inhabited Asia and damn nigh made it into Europe.” Azazel rolled his eyes and tapped a claw on the table impatiently. “Look, maybe you know his boss - dude goes by the name of Khan? As in Genghis? Have you ever had a session with one of these people where you have to walk them, step by step, through the part where they had their soldiers bisect a pregnant lady in front of them and play catch with the fetus in front of the bound father, and identify every spot where they did something wrong? And I swear, we’re still working on ‘torture is wrong.’ To this guy, anything not in his tribe or his army isn’t a person. Can we leave just one or two? We really gotta do the therapy and rehab thing for everybody?”
“Yeah, some of these guys seem like a waste of time, not gonna lie. But noooo, we followed Lucifer, the guy who could sell fire to a djinn, so now either everybody goes home, or we live in the ass end of Gehenna, so to speak, forever.” Stolas smiled wanly, his triplicate beaks somehow flexing.
Azazel looked at the cup of coffee in front of him, picked it up, and downed it in a gulp, then choked, paused with a frantic expression, and swallowed with what looked like great effort. “Still too hot.” He said. “Burned my throat. Anyway. This fucker isn’t getting any nicer while I avoid him. Antichrist, but he makes my skin crawl.” He shook his head. “Look, if I get this dude talked around and into the rehab segment before you get to the same spot with your accountant? I owe you a lava fishing trip. Where the *big* fire wyrms swim. Something you can really lock horns with.”
“Go get ‘em, champ.” Stolas returned, tilting his head and fluttering his wings owlishly. | 19 | As it turns out, hell isn't a place where people are tortured for all of eternity. It's more like a system made to reform sinners before they can go to heaven. | 34 |
The Hero begged me to grant his wish.
After all, who was I to deny the man who saved the world from the Demon King?
We trekked for three weeks through what was the Demon King's lands, carrying a dead body and a grieving soul in the wake of a polity disintegrating. None of the surviving demons had the strength or the will to keep us from our goal.
We found in an enchanted forest the grove that my prayers led me to. Wrapped in the silk of a divine cloth that kept her body from disintegrating, the Hero gently placed her body in the exact middle.
I clasped my hands, knelt in the grass, and began my prayers.
I poured my soul into the fervent hope I would be heard.
The Goddess answered on the third day.
And the Hero clasped his lover's hand, and she fluttered her eyes open. She recognized him. He recognized her. They cried tears of joy. I was spent, all my energy had been used to do one last miracle in the name of the Goddess.
She was still not fully recovered. Her strength had left her. We dragged her back to the mortal kingdoms, a month since the Demon King fell.
We passed through the border towns and villages, still smoldering from the remnants of the conflict. The shattered armies of man and humanoids had at last put to the blade the final few demon hordes that remained after the Demon King's fall.
We didn't come back to eyes full of hope and wonder and appreciation. We came back to accusations of abandonment, wondering where we were for weeks as we quested to bring back the dead.
The Hero and his lover cared not anymore for the people. They moved on, towards the capital and then they vanished. Not even the King's best scouts and informants could discover where they went.
Out of duty, I stayed to tend to the wounded.
Some recognized me as the great healer who had went with the Hero to slay the Demon King, and that was a mixed blessing. But when they asked me to use my magical curatives to help their sick and dying, I responded the only way I knew.
I took out my herbs and sutures and bandages, and did my best.
They couldn't believe me. They accused me of refusing to give them the blessing of the Goddess. They refused to listen. I smiled weakly and gave them my best efforts.
Eventually, they stopped torturing me. They left me to my work. I became another face in a crowd of medics who helped where I could, mending broken bones with splints and colds with medicinal remedies. Some even wanted to know how I did it, this material practice of healing that I was using.
The important thing was to make sure everything was clean. To make sure that the wounded understood not to move too much. And to ensure to come back to me if conditions worsened.
That was my gift to them, to those who suffered and to those who wanted to learn, because of all the things I learned from the Goddess of Light was that the gift to heal was a choice, a choice to give that gift. A gift like that cannot be fickle, and it must be carried, like a torch, for as long as you're able.
I taught that to my apprentices who followed after me, who saw what it was like when the gift was taken away, when prayers refused to work anymore, when love departed. You had to be the answer, the torch that continued lighting other torches along the way, to be carried beyond what that single light could provide.
And when I grew old and frail, when my legs could not carry me from village to village, others did that in my name. They worshiped me for my teachings, and taught others what I had shown them.
And I laughed, because they revered me as some otherworldly entity.
No, that was far from the truth, because there was no magic in simply helping others.
That was how it should be.
To be kind.
That's it.
Kindness. | 224 | As the follower of the Goddess of Light you have always respected the cycle of death and life as all life is equal. But seeing Goddess revive the Hero's lover while children cry for their dead parents left a bad taste in your mouth. | 600 |
Igo was never strong. Of all the members of his tribe, he was the weakest by far. He was a cowardly weakling who preferred books to battle, and he was bullied mercilessly for it. Yet still, Balthor liked him. Ever since he saved Igo from the older kids, the two had been inseparable. Eventually, the two got fed up and moved away from their tribe, building a lair and a life together.
The two made their way by mining for gems and precious metals. Igo would find the goods using his knowledge of geology, and a magic geo-finder device that he made, that helped too. After the goods were located, Balthor would dig them out with his claws. They lived their simple life in bliss, not really noticing as the humans settled closer and closer to their home. That is, until the adventures started coming.
At first they were civil, asking the two to leave so that the area could be converted to a settlement. The humans needed copious amounts of land to graze their animals with, and they had an ambitious plan to raze the area and replant it with grass seeds. The two refused to leave, they’d lived there longer than the humans after all. Then they threatened, they said that the land would be razed with or without their cooperation, and that they’d leave if they didn’t fancy being buried alive. Finally, they sent the adventures.
The adventures, groups of humans trained to kill monsters. The definition of monster has always been vague, and all it took for the two to be labeled as such was the offer of a few gold coins. So the two prepared, setting traps and tricks, intended to fend off any intruders. It worked, for a while.
One day, a particularly tenacious party managed to make their way past the traps. Beleaguered and stumbling, they entered the final chamber where Balthor waited. He was the last line of defense. Igo was leaving the lair through the secret exit when he heard the sound of his friend collapsing. Igo dashed back through the cave and into the chamber where he heard the swordsman, the party’s leader ask if “it” was dead. *It*. **It**. Igo could not control himself. He knew that Balthor would want him to run, but he could not leave his only friend to die unavenged. Even if he could not beat the humans, at least Igo would soon be with his friend in the Beyond.
Igo snuck around back of the adventurers, hammer in hand. It was tradition for trollish parents to forge warhammers for their children as gifts when they moved out, though Igo hadn’t received one from his own family, Balthor had crafted one for him. It was his prized possession, and now it would avenge its maker. Igo took a swing at the troublesome rouge who had poisoned Balthor with a dart, splattering the young girl’s brainmatter all over her compatriots. Igo thought that he should have felt guilty, but he didn’t. His next victim was the party’s wizard, then the swordsman, the one who had called Balthor *it*. The healer was allowed to live just long enough to tell Igo that his friend was beyond saving.
Igo then buried his friend, and wept. He vowed never to leave the place where Balthor lay, never to let the humans claim victory. By the time Igo himself passed away, he had become legend. Few adventurer dared to challenge his lair, and those who did left with deep scars or not at all. Eventually, they stopped coming all together. Igo died in peace, eager to see Balthor again, and to share the many stories he had gathered with his friend. | 53 | "Is... Is it dead?" the hero asked as the troll collapsed in front of them. They didn't expect to get a response when they heard someone answer ""It" had a name and "it" was my friend you colossal asshole!" | 144 |
It was a perfectly ordinary day in October, and I remained blissfully unaware of my imminent death. I walked to class, crunching dead leaves underfoot and casually eating a granola bar for breakfast. I studiously took notes on rational functions in Precalculus, the silk road in World History, and the difference between igneous and metamorphic rocks in Geology. I walked that same leaf-strewn sidewalk back to my apartment, dropped off my book bag, and met up with some friends at the local theater to catch a movie. Afterwards, I turned down their invitation to the local bar, returned home, and got caught up on my assignments for the next day. At precisely ten thirty, I turned in for the night, knowing that I had a class at six AM the next day.
I don’t mean to bore you with all the minutiae of my day. I merely wanted to illustrate to you that absolutely nothing of consequence happened to me until the clock struck midnight later that night.
I was tossing and turning, trying to get to sleep. My stomach was bothering me a bit; maybe I should have laid off the popcorn and raisinets at the movies. I turn over and grab my phone to see what time it is. The screen blinds me, and I scramble to lower the brightness. As I do, I see the clock tick over to 12:00 AM… and then a message appears on my screen.
*TURN AROUND*
I freeze for a minute, and immediately break into a cold sweat. I slowly turn around, dreading what might be lurking there, and I see… the wall. I let out the breath I was holding; it must have been a prank text from one of my friends. I turn back to see who sent it, and another message appears:
*Good, you can see these. Now follow my directions and hopefully it won’t catch you.*
It doesn’t look like a regular text, and when I try to tap it, nothing shows up. Either someone hacked my phone and is having a laugh at my expense… or I’m in serious trouble.
“Can you hear me?” I ask.
The pixels on my phone begin to rearrange themselves before my eyes, eventually forming a single word:
*Yes.*
“What’s after me? Why should I believe you?”
*Later. Right now, you need to cover any and all reflective surfaces in your living space. Close the blinds over your windows while you’re at it, and block any cameras you own. Your life may depend on it.*
“Hang on, why should I believe you? Who is this, and how did you hack my phone?”
*There is no time. You need to hurry.*
“I hate that cliche. Stop wasting my time and answer my questions.”
*I will answer every question you have if you follow my instructions first. A little curiosity might drive you where a survival instinct fails.*
“I’m not moving from this spot until you explain yourself.”
*You’ll die.*
“Give me one reason I should believe you.”
The screen of my phone remains still, showing the last message it sent for almost a minute. Then the pixels rearranged themselves again, showing the last message I would see with my living eyes:
*I was its last victim.*
At this point, I was about sixty percent skeptical, and forty percent scared. I got out of bed and closed the blinds over the window in my bedroom. I was just in the process of tearing the bed sheets from my bed, when the TV in the corner of my room turned on, showing static.
I tried to convince myself that the TV was just old, and probably had some crossed circuits that made it turn on out of nowhere. I looked over to my nightstand, where I had left the remote next to my phone. The phone had a new message.
*Too late.*
I heard a sound like a rushing wind behind me. I whirled around just in time to see a pale white hand with claw-like fingernails reaching for my face.
I blinked, and it was over. I heard the sound of something heavy falling to the floor. Looking down, I saw my body crumple to the floor, lifeless. I saw this through my now translucent legs and torso, as I floated helplessly over the body.
“Ahem,” I heard from behind me.
I spun in place and looked back over at my nightstand. Standing next to it was a similarly translucent figure; a girl about my age, dressed in modest and comfortable pajamas that put my ratty t-shirt and old shorts to shame. Her foot was tapping, and she wore a mask of irritation as she regarded me. Her right hand was on her waist, her left hovering over my phone.
Feeling sheepish, I mumbled a pathetic apology.
“Really? That’s all you have to say? I tried so *very* hard to save your life, and all you wanted to do was question your circumstances?” She rubbed her forehead with her left hand. “Men are such stubborn idiots sometimes…”
I looked down at my feet, having no words to answer her. She was right; I chose skepticism over caution, and now I had paid the price.
“Well,” she said, “I guess now that you’re here, I might as well answer your questions. Where would you like to start?”
\---
\~Stories by Sol | 12 | It's past midnight, You cant sleep. you check your phone, and It has an eerie message which reads "TURN AROUND" by instinct, you turn around, and you see nothing. Another message appears "Good, You can see these. Now follow my directions and hopefully it wont catch you" | 53 |
I had to double take, thinking I went insane.
A gigantic lizard, half it's body swimming through the ocean toward land.
*Of course, a hallucination from sun stroke*, I thought. I didn't have enough spf in my lotion that day.
Just out of curiosity, I glanced at the bottle and miserably saw the rating was a 100.
Nope...not sun stroke.
But there was no thuds, and the water didn't part before it.
It was getting closer, now only knee deep in the tide, hunched over and mass blotting out my vision, but not the sun...
That was when I realized it wasn't my mind playing tricks on me.
It was a ghost.
One. Big. Ghost.
It lumbered over me, it's massive translucent body casting a green faded shadow across the sand.
And that was it. It went past me and everyone else on the beach, moving inland as it phased past cars and trees and hotel buildings.
I rolled over on my chest so I could watch it plodded away. It took a long count of minutes before it faded into the horizon, far, far into the distance and threading through the distance mountains.
It was certainly a *new* experience, but considering my ability to see all sorts of departed and even extinct animals, it wasn't all that out of the ordinary.
Spectral apparitions were not innately harmful, and the vast majority of them just simply existed on a parallel existence, somehow unable to interact with the world of the living. Very rarely would they harm the actual world, merely stirring the wind or nudging a chair to make it creak at worst.
I was about to close my eyes to continue my sunbathing when the sand underneath me shook. A violent trembling that was the start of an earthquake.
I started getting goosebumps as I shifted on the shore, others screaming as they experienced the tremors as well.
*It's Japan* I told myself. *This happens all the time.*
And then an explosion behind me turned everyone's attention.
And then my goosebumps were joined by cold sweat as a particularly large peak in the mountains spat out clouds of red, angry fire.
Oh, that's Mount Fuji.
That's where the ghost kaiju went.
And that's not a good thing... | 75 | You where born with the ability to see the spirits of dead animals. You grew up understanding the power and going though life seeing birds, deer, you’ve even seen a dodo and mammoths a few times. But one day at the beach, you see a 50 story Godzilla like Kiju walking though the ocean. | 219 |
You were the worst dragon ever. You had no wings so you could never race through the clouds or play protect your horde in the mountain caves. You also had no powerful attacks. Your legs and tail were short and stubby so you couldn't claw or tail whip your enemies. Your head was small with serrated teeth more suited for holding than chomping. And you didn't even have a powerful breath attack. All you could do was spit a cloud of poisonous gas that just hung around your body. It wasn't even that toxic, it just stunk and made people cough. You couldn't even hope on finding a good mate. Your scales were all swampy green and brown and your horns were little more than bumps. All in all you were the most pathetic dragon to ever live in Fangspire.
Your one solace was the fact that the other dragons still liked you. Since you always failed combat training and couldn't fly the elders always gave you guard duty while the other dragons hunted. But whenever they came back they'd always bring you back a giant cave toad, your favorite food despite everyone else hating them. They'd also try to find poisonous plants for you to chew on to improve your toxicity and paints to make your scales prettier. And they'd try to find new games that you could enjoy as well. They made your life worth living.
And then the humans attacked. They came with their mages and archers who rained death from the sky and their spearmen and heroes who'd tear your scales with weapons made from your fallen brethren. The elders screamed for everyone to flee for the coasts. But your friends, now just entering adulthood asked what to do about their newly born eggs.
"Go!" you screamed, "I will protect them. It's not like I can flee anyway" You could see the disbelief hiding behind their eyes as they tried to cover it in hope. "May the Primals grant your strength my friend. We will return and should you fall, we will avenge you through corpse and song" They said as they flew away.
You hoped the Primals would save their blessing for them as the first human king parted his army to face you. Decked in golden armor and wielding an enchanted greatsword large enough chop your head off in a single swing, you both knew who the winner of the match would be.
And as you predicted he raced forward with inhuman speed, dodging your toxic mouth and cleaving your head and neck straight from your body.
Your vision disappeared as your prepared for death to take its hold. And then it returned. And then it returned again. You could see the king standing over your fallen head, a face of disbelief as he looked at you and then turned to look at you. Where your head had been severed, two new necks had burst with a head each.
The new head to your right glared down at the king, poison spewing from its mouth, "We'll talk about this later, right now we have a job to do."
You only nodded and prepare to fight, now with a bit more confidence in your own victory.
After all, two heads are better than one. | 65 | You aren't sure what's worse-- having your head cut off, or suddenly finding out you're part hydra. | 200 |
“I was around my girlfriend’s house meeting her parents for the first time,” says my friend. “I was maybe only seventeen. Anyway, they serve onion soup to start with, which was great, super strong just how I like it. But two minutes in and I catch them all looking at me — my girlfriend, her older brother, parents — all staring at me.” He shrugs. “I figure they’re looking to see what I think of the soup, and I give them the thumbs up and carry on eating. Later, after the meal, my girlfriend is pretty mad at me. She asks if I tried to ruin the meal on purpose.” My friend pauses here.
”On purpose?’ I ask, providing my minimal part in the conversation. I’ve never been much of a conversationalist but in the last year or so I’ve almost turned mute.
”Turns out I’d been slurping the soup extremely loudly. Every spoonfull of it. Slurrrp. Slurrrp. My girlfriend called my behaviour unbearable. We didn’t see each other much longer after that.“ He smiles and sips his beer.
”So… That’s when the past lives started coming back to you?”
”You got it in one,” he says. “If this was golf you wouldn’t even need to putt. In one of my lives slurping was how I — my community — showed pleasure at the food we were devouring. And the onion soup was *really* good. It would have been rude not to slurp. At least, in my mind it would have been.”
Me and my old school friend are at a bar sipping half-empty beers. It’s a tacky ocean themed bar with plastic eels and starfish and seahorses dangling from the ceiling, radiating pools of imitation bioluminescense. Blues and purples. The seahorse above our table flickers every so often.
It’s the first time I’ve seen my friend in ten years. He’s handsome but he’s aged more than I expected — his hair still dark but wrinkles and crows feet settling deep into his face like fingers into wet clay.
“Back then,” my friend says, “I didn’t realize it was a past-life thing. It just seemed like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, you know? Like at some point in my seventeen years someone had told me slurping at dinner with your girlfriend was a good idea. But a year or two after that, I start to remember more details. I remember my life in Japan. I remember my life in France. I get confused with who I am now because of who I was then. It’s all one great big muddle.”
We‘ve finished our beers so I get us another round then sit back beneath the flickering seahorse.
“How do you deal with it?” I ask. “I’ve had one life and thirty years in it. And that’s still too many memories that I don’t need.”
”You don’t deal with it. Or at least, I didn’t. That’s why I went AWOL.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
”I was in an institute for five years. I couldn’t cope with the memories.“
”Whoa,” I say, unsure what else to say. I’d figured he’d gone travelling. He’d always been adventurous. The kind of kid who wanted to make the most of their one life on the planet. The fact he hadn’t gotten in contact with me during that time hurt a little, but wasn’t entirely unexpected.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Or it is now. But back then, boy. The memories flooded back and drowned me. My life in France ended in the trenches and for a while all I could see at nights were dead friends I’d never even met. How do you deal with that when you’re not even twenty and think of yourself as a pacifist? And that’s not even the worst of it.”
I felt bad. Why hadn’t I bothered to search for him? To check he was okay? Instead, ten years on, it’s my friend who got in contact with me. He saw my profile on some social media channel and wanted to see how I was doing.
”It gets worse than trenches?’ I say.
”Yes. Sort of. I mean, I’ve lost so many parents and children and loved ones that it’d make your head spin. Ah sorry, I shouldn’t mention that — I hope it doesn’t upset you?”
I raise a hand and give a meek smile. “It’s fine. It’s nothing compared to yours.”
“We all have our own demons,” he says. “Squatting on our shoulders. There’s no point comparing them. But okay, look, there’s a reason why most people don’t remember this stuff. It drives you mad to remember it. Forgetting past lives is evolution at work. We remember important bits — stay away from snakes, don’t sleep in a tree in case you fall, don’t eat bright red berries — and we lock away the rest. Except, sometimes, like with me, the hinges on the safe door crack and out it all spills.”
We have another beer and talk about sport instead, then about school.
”Yeah,“ he says, grinning at each and every school anecdote I have. “I forgot all about that. Man, we had some good times.”
Eventually, I ask what’s been on my mind, “How did you do it? How are you like this?“
”What do you mean?”
”You got out of the institute. You seem to be coping fine now. The memories aren’t crushing you.” I grab my sweating pint glass and clasp it on the table between my two hands, like if I let go of it it’ll fall and break. “How did you do it?”
He looks an me earnestly, holds my gaze and thinks a while. “They got me to concentrate on other memories. When I think of my life in France, I think of my childhood with my parents, of art, friends, poetry, gathering grapes from the vines, anything that made me happy there. I forced myself to do this each time memories of that life came into my head — I’d search for the best bits of that life. Then, I’d do it for the next life, and the next, and the next.”
I don’t pick up my glass. It feels too heavy, even thought it’s only half-full now.
“Eventually,” he says, “you learn to turn down the brightness on the worst parts and turn it way up on the good. The bad doesn’t go, but it fades a little into the background. It allows the better times to come into focus.”
”That sounds… difficult.”
”It’s not easy to do,” he says. “It takes time. But past lives do become past, become memories. It’s possible to live in the present again.” | 319 | The reason we don't remember our previous reincarnations is because most past lives in the pre industrial era were short affairs that often ended before the child even made it to 5, making storing memories frankly a huge waste of time. Now things are changing, people are starting to remember | 2,220 |
"You stopped yourselves from doing anything more than making basic fireworks?" Gorlvba shook its head, and hissed three times rapidly which the two of his species flanking it echoed.
The Human Ambassador did not flinch. "Of course not. We spent many years locked in a death grip, our whole planet's existence threatened by so few of us, but that era is in our past. We succeeded in our mission of harmonious existence with all living things. We began to understand that we were no . . ."
"Your planet? Yes, that would be so terrible." The alien looked back and forth to its fellows with its six eyes.
"Honorable Gorlvba of Gorhoatoad, your weapons testing will clearly need to be conducted upon another star. This one is clearly inhabited by a sentient species such as they are." A plumed avian humanoid alien held its beak aloft when speaking.
The Humans whispered to each other. "They didn't even know we are sapient!" One blurted into the microphone and translator.
"The Humans will refrain from such outbursts." A monotone voice from above stated.
"Honorable Council," the Human Ambassador began. She was dressed in white robes with purple edges and stood to her podium. "We misunderstood the purpose of today's hearings. We had thought you initiated first contact for diplomatic purposes. We had no idea our species was being put on trial. We have no defenses, no warships. Ours is a peaceful existence."
"See! They won't even defend themselves! How is that sane!?" Gorlvba interjected.
"The Ambassador from Gorlvba is censured. Silence imposed for five minutes." The monotone voice stated plainly.
"We have no quarrel with any species. We are no better than you are. We have more in common than not. . ." The Council tables of various species all speaking together roared over the Human Diplomat.
"ORDER." The voice showed the slightest bit of emotion. All were silenced. "VOTE. The Council has other business concerning more than one mere planet."
"514-388. The Motion carries. The Sp2-S49Y is not to be destroyed by the Gorhoatoad Tactical Black Hole Displacement Weapon. Further testing only on approval of the Council. Humans to be returned to pre-contact status. We await you in the stars." The Humans were shuttled back to Earth unceremoniously.
"What just happened?" The Diplomat asked her aides.
"I think we won, Madam?" | 11 | Turns out Nukes are not the ultimate weapon and the Galactic Council is genuinely surprised that humanity hasn't developed past them. | 38 |
As I come too, I see some strangers around me. I sit up. My head is killing me. I hear the flow of the river behind me. One of the strangers, a sweet lady, comes over to me with some rags. "Here. To cover yourself."
"Thanks. Got any water? Or food? I'm exhausted..." I begin wrapping myself up.
"Soup should be just about ready. Are you hurt?" one of the men asks.
"I... I don't think so..." I slowly begin to stand up. I'm escorted to a simple bed, clearly prepared for me.
"Are you sure you're not hurt? That mark looks painful" the lady replies. I look to my wrist where she's indicating. Something suddenly feels off... like I should know what it is... but...
"It doesn't hurt. May be an old injury or something." I slowly lay down, thinking, before sitting up again, my legs still stretched out. "I... I think I have amnesia... does anyone know who I am?"
"Couldn't tell you" a particularly energetic teenage girl says as she passes me a bowl of soup. "We were all trying to figure it out just as you began to wake up. Truth be told... I wish you were someone else."
"Someone... else?" I inquire, unsure what that could mean.
"The king" a slightly older boy states. "He was killed a while ago. News normally takes a while to reach our little settlement, but this was big stuff. Some guy just announced that the king was murdered and he'd be our new king. The king was really kind and fair, always making sure everyone has what they need. It was often said he'd starve himself to protect his people. No-one trusts this new guy."
Why does that sound familiar...? "But if the king is dead, then how *could* I have been him?"
"It's a case of hope" a lady sitting with a baby comments. "We're scared of the future... but if our king were alive, and he were found..." I nod in understanding.
As the evening progresses, I settle in for the night. I have some horrid nightmares. Some people cast a spell at me... my entire face changed in an instant... none of my soldiers believe me when I tell them who I am and that I didn't kill the king. I have to flee. I escape through the hidden passageways, diving into the water. I'm a pretty good swimmer, so I'll be fine... I'll be fine... I'll be... fine...
I wake with a gasp. I remember everything now! I look at the people who were so kind and generous to me. Could I tell them? I have the royal birthmark... the very mark that's on my wrist... but would they know? Would they believe me? Even my own men turned on me. I have no choice... I must leave...
I gather some supplies and begin to sneak out, when I overhear something. "Do you think that killer could have washed up so far?" "We have to check. At the very least, put up wanted photos."
I gulp, when I feel a hand pull at my arm. The teenage girl. "Why are you leaving?"
I need to think of an answer, stat. "Some bad men are after me. Do me a favour and distract them for me. I believe there are some just around the corner there."
"I don't know... will they hurt me? Why are they bad?"
"Look, you'll probably hear more tomorrow. Please, just do me this one favour. I promise you'll be ok."
"...Ok." She goes over to where I pointed and begins chatting away. Now's my chance! I slip away as quickly and quietly as I can. I overhear the conversation. "So he's not here?" "I didn't say that. I just said I'm no good at matching faces. I *may* have seen someone like him..." "Where would it have been?" "Well, earlier we found this ma-" "HEY!"
I've just been spotted, but I'm far too far away now. In the distance I hear ^("Oh, that's the guy? Yeah, he wasn't drawn well, I could have otherwise told you that we found him!")
Clever girl... covering herself like that... I just keep running. Though, I begin to realise I have nowhere to go... what do I do?"
**=WARPER=**
"I really need to get out into the field more often! I'm in my office way too much!" I smile at Purge. Ever since I admitted my feelings for her, we've been spending time together.
"It's fun! It was quite thrilling when I teamed up with Morpha!" We both laugh, then I spot something.
"Hold on, Purge, I think..." I run over. A man, clearly dehydrated and exhausted. "SIR! Please, tell me, what happened to you?" The man looks at me blankly. Purge joins us and gasps.
"Tha... that mark..."
"What is it, dear?" I ask.
"I had a friend a while ago... this was before I became Purge... she worked for the royals in a kingdom... she knew everything about the royal family... she told me about this mark... this mark is a royal birthmark! Sir, why are you so far from your kingdom?"
The man blinks. "I was chased out. Damn spellcasters changed my appearance. I was the king... now the traitors have all my men thinking I killed the king, and the mastermind took over the kingdom. Been running for my life. I don't know if I can even reclaim the throne..."
Just before I can respond, two more men, dressed as soldiers, turn up. "HAND HIM OVER! He is to be executed for treason against the kingdom!"
"For the love of- show them your wrist, your majesty!" Purge commands. Startled, the man does so. The soldiers, confused at first, recoil in shock and shame.
"Don't bother asking for forgiveness" the man says. "You all lost my trust the moment you listened to the *real* traitors. It's not like I can go back anyway..."
"Actually" I jump in, "maybe you can... magic changed your face, magic can change it back! I'm sure we have-" the man looks at me.
"I've just been running from the very kingdom I worked hard to support. I feel really bad leaving my people like this... but as far as I'm concerned, everyone who threatened me is a traitor. I don't want to go back to ruling over the very people who just threatened to kill me." He turns back to the soldiers. "Remember: a kingdom's might is only as powerful as its people. Do right by the people, you do right by the kingdom."
We escort the man back with us. After some well needed R&R, I present a client for him, considering his life is at risk and that he doesn't even have anywhere to go. Much more humble than his previous occupation, but he seems ready and willing to be the cleaner for a household. "I have one request" the man says. "I've heard from visitors about things called 'tattoos'... I want to cover up this mark. I want no reminder of this horrid part of my life."
I nod. I call over a former villain, Spill, known for using ink as his weapon and defence. He had said once before if he wasn't a villain he'd be a tattoo artist, so he'll be able to do this.
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This story is a part of my series, [It's Not Just Business.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xoduo6/its_not_just_business/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 12 | You wake up disoriented when offered some rags to cover your naked body. Eventually, you remember you were king. A coup used an arcane spell to change your looks and displace you, leaving only your family's birthmark. People assume you are dead, but the new ruler is still looking to kill you. | 134 |
It was a pleasant afternoon in the capital city of Oriol. The weather was unusually cool for the month of July, offering a welcome respite from the summer heat; and though it had been raining in the morning, now it was bright and sunny, with not a cloud to be seen.
There were many people in the main square that afternoon – walking, talking, laughing. Many walked past the memorial in the middle of the square, but it was such a familiar sight for the capital dwellers that no one seemed to pay the monument any attention.
Except for one person, that is.
A young woman in an old-fashioned dress – the sort you would expect people three decades ago to wear – was standing in front of the memorial, staring at the statue on top of a giant rock. Her head was tilted to the side, and she seemed overall rather bemused by what she was seeing.
A man approached her, a bunch of bright pamphlets in hand.
“Good afternoon, young lady,” he began, his voice cheerful.
“It is,” she agreed, not taking her eyes off the monument.
The man blinked.
“Uh… this must be your first time in the capital, right?” he ventured a moment later.
“Not quite,” the young woman shook her head, “but I have not been there in a while. I certainly do not remember this…” she paused, as if looking for the right word, “curious thing standing here. I wonder what it is supposed to be.”
“Why, this is the Monument of Victory, of course!” the man exclaimed. “This is the Hero,” he pointed to the figure of a sword-wielding knight with his white cloak fluttering in the wind, “slaying the, uh, Monster.”
He didn’t point this time, but it was not necessary in the slightest – the grotesque, squirming serpentine figure, snarling its numerous teeth at the knight, could hardly be anything else.
“Oh, you still don’t speak the Monster’s name?” the young woman asked, making the man look away in embarrassment. “I do not blame you, though. It *was* a rather ugly name.”
“Quite,” the man agreed quickly, and then hastened to change the topic. “Oh! And those, of course, are the names of the fallen,” he indicated the row of names that covered the surface of the stone the statue was set on, “those brave men and women who fell so that the Monster could be slain.”
“Fell?” the young woman said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I suppose this *is* an accurate description… though not in the way you likely meant.”
The man blinked again, not sure how to respond to that.
The woman, meanwhile, approached the monument. Standing on her tip toes, she traced the names with her index finger, stopping for a moment on each one. The man watched the scene, still unsure what to say.
Finally, her finger stopped on one name.
“A nice monument,” she said, “but a little bit… inaccurate, I’d say.”
“What do you mean?” the man with the pamphlets asked, confused.
Instead of answering, she swept her hand across the cold stone, as if wiping dust from it. Then she turned and walked away, not saying another word.
The man wanted to call after her, but then he noticed something strange.
In the row of names carved into the rock, there was a gap – and the man could have sworn it was not there a minute before. A gap in the exact same place the strange young woman touched.
The man turned in the direction she left, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. | 185 | The monster now in place, you activate the magic circle, but instead find yourself sinking into the ground. "This is the only way," your friend said, "I'll take care of your wife and children." Decades later you finally awake and find him heralded as hero, and you, listed as a casualty of war. | 603 |
"Well that hadn't gone as planned" The Lord of Darkness thought to himself. He'd expected them to cower, cry or to fight. But the roar of the crowd that gathered became ever louder. "Silence!" He yelled loudly enough to strain his voice. "I have flayed drawn and quartered your "hero" and yet you cheer? Do you mock me?" He demanded. The whispers began at the back and slowly grew until someone spoke up near the front of the crowd. "The so-called "Miracle Man" that lies before you wasn't a hero at all. He demanded we pay nearly our entire income in "tithes" to fund his army and he forced any male who could hold a twig to fight in that army. We've lost nearly half the town to his ambition and endless warmongering. We have heard tales of a man from the far north who commanded powerful magic and one day he would free us from his pointless and endless wars. And here you are. That, my Lord is why we're cheering."
Hero or villain depends only on who holds the sword and why. The Lord of Darkness remembered his teachers words in that moment. His scheme to enslave these people never considered the idea that they might willingly accept his reign. This conquest definitely hadn't gone as planned. | 53 | When the villain presented the dead body of the hero to the crowd as proof of their victory, they expected many reactions. They did not expect the crowd to cheer. | 156 |
Part of me cant believe we're having this conversation. I mean, I'm Dark One, master of evil, I figured my child wouldn't be afraid of the dark, let alone monsters. But here she is, asking me to tackle a monster in the closet.
"Er, darling I'm sure there's nothing in there," I tell her.
"No mama, I'm sure I heard something," she tells me. "Can you please check?"
With a small sigh, I nod my head and approach the closet door. I nonchalantly open it, preparing to say, "see? nothing." when my jaw hits the floor.
Inside is a writhing mass of tentacles, each suction pore sporting a disgusting weeping eye. It lets out a hideous groan as I look upon it, as though the very act of being witnessed was physically painful. I inhale sharply.
"Carthonax!" I exclaim. "What in the hell are you doing in my child's closet!?"
The horror lets out a disgruntled moan.
"If you couldn't sleep you should have come to me for help!" I shout. "Lacey won't start her eldritch training for another three years! Your just scaring her!"
Another moan.
"But nothing!" I reply. "Now march yourself to bed right now before you get into even more trouble!"
Carthonax cant bear to look at me with any of its many eyes. It just looks down and lopes its way out of the closet and through the bedroom door. I exhale a very exasperated sigh before turning back to my daughter.
"I'm sorry my horror bothered you sweetheart," I tell her. "I will definitely have to have a long talk with them about how your room is strictly off limits."
"Okay mama," she says.
"Would you like me to read you a bedtime story?" I ask. "Will that help you settle back down?"
"Can we read another chapter of the Shadow over Innsmouth?"
"Anything for you baby." | 197 | The villain is asked by their child to deal with the monster in the closet. | 347 |
I knew this was a bad idea. Transferring your consciousness? That's not how it works; the camera that is you is stuck to you, it doesn't suddenly shift. All they did was make a copy!
"Take a few minutes to decide. I'll be right back," the doctor said. My copy - the body that I supposedly ought to be occupying - looked at me with eyes that shone slightly, its expression unreadable.
If I could move, I'd scream. But I could manage no sound, couldn't move my arms, could only blink.
So blink I did. Two shorts, then a long, then a short. A short, a long. Another short, one long, two shorts. Three shorts, then one more.
"Come on!", I screamed inside my mind. "Look at me. Look at my eyes!" I learned this code on a dare some years back, and I memorized a secret password back in grade school in case I met someone claiming to be me from the future.
Two longs and a short. Three longs.
It stared, unblinking. It - I - was my only hope.
Long, short, short.
It was subtle - almost unreadable. But my clone's pupils dilated slightly, and it spoke barely above a whisper.
"What have they done to me?"
EDIT: Many thanks to u/Pinbot02 for his correction. | 760 | You were the last of your friends to get the procedure to place your consciousness in a robot body. You wake up after your operation to hear what was supposed to be your new body say "hey! It worked! I'm in the robot body! ...Now what do we do with my old skin?" | 2,618 |
"It's lunch time!" The voice of leader of the theatre troupe rings out.
I scurry over excitedly for my meal and catch a glimpse of him jolting in fear for a moment. "Boy I will never get used to that" he says to me as I plop down in front of him. Unhinging my top and opening up for my meal. My tongue falls out happily and I can smell the stew he is carrying. Somehow I have been able to smell in every form I have taken although I often stayed as a treasure chest. Comfort form I guess?
I early gulp down the food as he dumps it into me. My tongue sliding over my wood like appearance to gather all the food and swallowing it.
"Amazing..." I breath out savouring the meal. "other mimics have no idea what they are missing. Slow cooking, spices, vegetables, soft meat. It's all bliss" I say to the leader happily.
He grins at me and laughs. "Glad to hear it. Wouldn't want you going rogue on us."
"That was a one time joke!" I say referring to a few months back when I had taken the shape of beer mug to scare our musician one evening. Everyone had agreed that such things are to be banned and I realized it wasn't as funny as I had hoped.
"Anyway, we have to get to the nearby town tonight so I hope you are ready for more walking or whatever you do " he tells me.
"Ready as always!" I respond. Mimics don't move around much but that doesn't mean it's difficult for them. Just not suited for their hunting style.
It's a couple hours later that we ran into bandits. A sizable group and something the troupe is woefully unprepared for.
The bandits threaded with their weapons as the troupe pulled out money. An unfortunate occurrence I think to myself. Until they push further, grabbing one of the girls. "how about the girls keep us company tonight." He asks his friends who in turn agree and start to reach for the woman and girls in the group.
That was too far. They are my troupe.
A mimic can transform into a great many things, but living in a dungeon and hardly moving they don't have much... Inspiration. Besides they are limited to objects not living things.
I had been traveling with this group for years. I had seen many things, and I had their stories, their tales, and their influence to guide me.
My body morphed quickly into the abomination that I desired a great golem masterpiece of terror and horror.
The legs, sizable iron maidens opening and closing as I walked ready to grasp anyone who opposed me.
The chest a simple rack design to grab a victim and have it in full view being stretched to death as I approach other victims.
The arms numerous treasure chests. Ready to tear apart anything they could reach. Smaller chests making up hands and fingers.
I formed a head of teeth to rest on top of the golem. Long sharp teeth like ones you would see from a dragon forming together a mask. I made long tongues spilling out of the eye sockets.
The bandits didn't escape. They couldn't outrun my new form as my various body parts took them apart.
And ate them.
The bandits were not the only ones to run. The troupe did too. I wanted to follow, I wanted to still be with them.
I knew I couldn't. I had shown them to much. Even a king's person torturer would be horrified by what I had done.
I had saved them, but I had lost myself.
I miss them. Their songs, their food, their dances. I miss being useful and handy to them as whatever prop they needed. I miss seeing them, hearing them, and being with them.
Other mimics didn't know what they were missing.
I did, I do.
But I see no way to get it back.
At least I have time to think for the bodies of the bandits will sustain me for many moons. I thought.
That was many moons ago. The sustenance the bodies have provided me have been more of a curse than anything.
I haven't found anything like I had with the troupe and I fear I never will again.
For a brief time I saw humans as companions,
But as hunger grips me
All that I can see them as
Is food. | 89 | Most mimics feed themselves by luring in unsuspecting adventurers and devouring them once they are within reach. You, however, earn your meals by playing the role of various stage props as a part of a theatre troupe. | 200 |
"I suppose we are" I chuckle. Since the funeral concluded, I've been taken back with the Utopians who are exploring other planets on behalf of humans... well, except me, as I'm Edina's personal assistant. After the death of Levi at Vex's and Amelia's wedding, Utopians have been very fascinated by the fact we're so vulnerable. They didn't realise it was possible to kill another humanoid! Well, it was only in the last couple of years that humans and Utopians met, so...
"PREPARE FOR LANDING!" Toby, the pilot, calls out. Edina proceeds to unchain me from the side of the ship, then re-chain my hands together in front of me. She attaches the restraint as I tug the chain. It's become a habit for me to do, as if I'm expecting the chain to weaken.
We all exit the ship and look around the area. Irkle immediately does a scan, and his expression is horrified. "We must leave this planet immediately! Methane levels are dangerously high!" We all have a look at the device. All the Utopians are panicking, but I'm just confused.
"That's not too bad... sure it makes oxygen harder to absorb or something, but the oxygen levels seem to make up for that..." everyone looks at me.
"Is... is methane not toxic to humans?" Rya asks.
"Not really" I shrug. "I don't remember much from classes, but I do remember that methane gas can affect oxygen getting to the body."
Clyde whispers something to Edina, who nods. It's not long before the Utopians have come up with an idea. Clyde speaks. "Max... none of us can-" *cough cough* "...Can stay out here. We're going back to..." *COUGH!* "...to the ship. You can carry out..." *cough cough cough*
"Just get inside! Whatever is happening is obviously not good!" By now Edina has already removed my chain and restraint. I'm left alone with the analysis machine, the notepad, a communicator and a couple odd bits and bobs.
"Max? Max can... can you read me?"
"Yes, Clyde, I can."
"Good... we're going to hover above the planet. We'll go into hibernation mode to save resources. Call us when you're ready to leave, or if you need help."
"Roger that." I put the communicator away and start exploring. This planet looks dead... completely... you know in films where there's a dry, drab wasteland, devoid of colour and littered with skulls and bones? This planet was probably where the shots took place. Also, with the levels of methane, the planet is quite warm. I need to take care.
I look around for a bit, but there's nothing. I sigh. "Clyde, come in. There's literally nothing here. I'm ready to go."
"Understood, Max. Return to original drop-off point. We'll pick you up." I begin to make my way back, when I sense something. I look around, wondering what it was... then it becomes clear. I'm surrounded now. They're human-like, crawling around the ground on all fours. Ears are large, and noses are closer to an anteater snout. Rather than hair on the top of their heads, very short hair covers their bodies, as in, you can still kind of see the skin underneath. I speak into the radio again.
^("Clyde, something happened... don't wait for me, I don't know how long I'll be. I'm sorry, but I promise it wasn't my fault! It just happened!")
^("Stay safe.") With that, I stand up to face these creatures. One of them speaks.
"Hmm... it similar to us. Can even speak." It sounds like a male.
"Are you weird scarter?" It's a feminine sounding voice this time.
"Umm... what's a scarter?" I ask.
"Clearly not us" the first one says. "Eat it?"
My eyes shoot open wide. "Wait! No, I'm not one of you, but I mean no harm! I came as a visitor! I was actually about to leave..."
"Leave so soon?" A gruff voice queries. "Come."
"But leader-"
"We let go, we lose meal. We invite, we make friend maybe?" The gruff one looks at me curiously.
"Umm... sure..." I'm guided towards a cave. At that moment, we hear a scattering sound. Many rodent-like creatures are scurrying out of a hole. I see something that looks like smoke. The feminine one looks at the other two. "Trap worked. Go. I catch meal." Just like that, she's off. I continue to be guided. So much for nothing here...
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This story is a part of my series, [Alien Life.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x1uytg/alien_life/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 12 | "So if you got stabbed by a steel sword..." "Yes." "How about a wooden sword?" "YES." "Even if it wasn't on fire?" "YES." "What is it WAS on fire?" "Still yes." "How about an ice sword?" "Same answer." "Wow, are humans just weak to everything?" | 49 |
*Knock, knock! The pounding of the door beats in rhythm with the pounding of my head. I'm itchy. Why can't I move my arm? Handcuffs? I'm in that dingy basement again. Was it a full moon last night? My head gets foggy the closer the moon gets to being full, it's hard to keep track of time.*
"You awake?" Coach's raspy voice filled the room.
Coach shuffled into the room wearing his worn out grey tracksuit, his thinning black hair slicked back, the wrinkles on his faced multiplied when he smiled. He unlocked the handcuffs. I scratched my face first, then all over.
*Every part of my body itches when I turn back, feels like I'm still covered in coarse fur. My nails are still a bit sharp, I drew some blood from the scratching. I got out of bed and stretched, every muscle in my body was tense. Coach tossed me a gatorade. Needed to replenish my electrolytes.*
"Did I fight last night?" I asked.
Coach pulled a huge wad of bills from his pocket. "You dominated last night kid! You tore through Frankenstein's monster like it was tissue paper! I ain't ever seen you so bloodlusted before! It was beautiful. We keep training hard and one day soon you'll be champion, take down that jackass Dracula."
*Coach wasn't exaggerating. He showed me the tape, I was a monster in the coliseum. Didn't know I had that in me, the baneful wolf blood in my veins was getting stronger, able to take more control and abolish any inhibition or mercy. The crowd roared as I slaughtered the grotesque creature Dr. Frankenstein created, devouring it's necrotic flesh. I gave a good howl at the end of the fight.*
Coach tossed another huge wad of bills at me. "There's your cut. You interested in a fight next month. Little tune up before we try and challenge Drac?"
"Who's it against?"
"Some guy named Alucard, an untested fighter. Heard a rumor he fights like Dracula, would be good practice. Big payday."
"Sounds good to me."
"Get dressed so we can go grab some breakfast, gonna need to bulk up for this next fight."
*Life never stops on the way to the top of the Monster Mash Association.* | 11 | You wake up in your bed, dazed and tired. Your nose itches so you move your arm to scratch, only to notice it's handcuffed to the bed. Your eyes shoot up, frantically pacing and suddenly noticing all the changes in the room, then you hear a knock at the door. | 17 |
"Release me, human."
If he could hear me, he gave no indication. My anger was a slow, bubbling cauldron. I seethed while this seemingly weak human changed his shoes, a mundane act performed with implacable calm. He'd seemed the perfect target. A quiet, unassuming life, the kind of man who could be corrupted and carry out heinous acts of misery without detection. "I said release me!"
"Oh, I don't think I could do that. I know what you are, and what you want to do, and the longer I can hold you, the less of that there will be in the world."
I pushed at his will, which held me in place like stone. No human should have this strength. He sat at his table, opening a box full of colored wooden blocks. He arranged them in shapes for a while, listening to me rage and howl the litany of terrors I would visit upon him.
He was unmoved. He began building a structure with the blocks.
"I knew a little boy, who was five years old, and very very shy. He didn't know how to get started, to play with the children, or talk to other people. But he did learn how to build bridges, with blocks. All shapes and sizes of bridges. After a while, he pretended he could go over the bridge, and find someone to play with, and talk to." The human walked his fingers along the surface, mimicking a human's silly, precarious walk, no wings or tail to stabilize or balance them. "And playing about it helped him, it helped him think about it, and later, to do it. And little by little, as he played, and talked about it, he didn't feel quite so shy. I think about him a lot."
He reached into his pockets, and pulled out a handful of glass spheres. "I have something in my pocket I want you to see, too. Do you know what these are? They're called marbles. When I was a boy, I used to play marbles with other children. And I sometimes now think about people playing marbles."
Visions played out in his head, memories of children at play, a game of apparent finesse and occasional violence. I enjoyed the moments when one of these small frail humans in his memory threw their tiny arms in the air in defeat or frustration, at the realization of their inferiority. These moments stretched out interminably in his mind. I was helpless to do anything but watch, he held me so tightly.
"I wonder if I can make this marble go over this bridge." He made a few attempts, laughing to himself as it rolled off the sides, haphazardly. "Oh, I better feed the fish." He continued to pelt me with his memories and thoughts, seemingly without direction, just an idle wander through his psyche, thinking about.. marbles.
"How can you torture me, human?! What is.. this.." If he heard me, he showed nothing.
"Most marbles are made from glass. Old pieces of glass. Pieces people don't need anymore, recycled glass." And then I felt it. He plucked at my self, looking for my purpose. "Recycled means it's used, more than once. It's shoveled into a bucket, and weighed. The old glass goes into the oven, and the glass will melt, if the fire is hot enough."
Until now, I had been astonished that he could even hold me, never mind render me powerless and ineffective. For the first time ever, at the hands of a human, I felt fear. He began to apply a sort of pressure, it could be described as gentle and effortless if you were inclined to think in those terms, but I was not. It was also relentless, unstoppable, an unbreakable vise, terrifying.
"When it's all melted and soft, a machine takes the red hot glass, and rolls them around and around. Red, hot glass. It gets cooler and cooler, and as it does, it loses its red hot color, and those pieces of glass start looking like.. marbles."
He began to twist me and shape me while he talked about how marbles were made, not an ounce of effort visible as he moved about his simple home. No outward indication that within him he held a demon of the Eighth Horde, a master torturer capable of rendering exquisite pain upon human victims unlucky enough to cross its path.
"Some people even collect marbles."
Ice flowed through my being as he stole my hate for humans. I felt it, saw it ooze from my sense of self, my disdain for their innocence, their happiness, their freedoms, the joy they found in each other. He showed me the memories again, the children at play, the friendly competition, the marble trading and little victories, the lifelong friendships he still had, with those he'd beaten, who'd defeated him, in a simple children's game.
Forever passed before I shook myself free of the reverie I found myself in, sloughing away the foreign, unfamiliar feelings I was sensing.
The odious human sat down at his piano, and lifted the cover. He flexed his fingers a few times, and ran them across his cardigan to be sure they were dry. He slid them across the piano, waking it up with a gentle glissando. From somewhere within him, from some obscene wellspring of wholesome goodness, I felt the music bubble up, taking control of his hands and translating his joy into something his neighbors would undoubtedly hear.
And then he began to sing to me.
"What do you do, with the mad that you feel.." | 32 | You're a demon. After possessing a human, you're horrified to find out he not only managed to suppress your will and steal your powers, he's slowly INFECTING you with his morals. | 88 |
"It was difficult you know. I'm the size of a building, a small castle even if i take a propper stance. And this small child needed to be Bottle FED!
Have you any idea how difficult it is to not only hold a child properly and feed her from a tiny bottle, all the while not cutting her to shreds. I have Claws the size of SWORDS!
So after having to go trough the trouble of getting milk and veggies, after she could start to eat those, I had to start teaching her. I couldn't leave her without an education, that would be immoral.
So after all of the effort i put in to raising her, feeding her, teaching her. You come here with an army of knights in shining armor, siege weapons and all, to tell me she is the child of the tyrant king of the south."
The knight in silver armor infront of me looked stumped. He expected to find a mighty beast to battle, not concerned parent. "Well, yes?"
"Oh for Almengundurs' sake." I roared. "Look at her! She is barely 12. I have taken care of her for 11 years. If anything she is MY CHILD!" My deep roar subsided in a quiet but powerful rumble. "And you are a fool if you think you have enough men and weapons to harm my child."
For the first time in over a decade I got ready to attack. My hind legs slightly bend the wings on my arms flared open and covered everything behind me in my cave. The scaled frils of my neck starting to vibrate and swell with dragon fire. The girl in a sturdy set of crimson leather armor on top of my back.
"If i may, oh masterful dragon." A third voice said from behind the knight. Slowly stepping forward was a wizard, or well maybe a witch in propper clothes. "Might i propose an alternative to this battle, your greatness."
"Stop trying to be flattering, it annoys me more than anything else." I replied as i stopped the fire in my neck from growing.
"The Kingdom of the south has fallen years ago. There army is in shambles and there might deminishing. They only hold out hope because the believe there princess to be in your care." Her tone was something i could barely stand. Clearly an old woman wearing a young ones skin. Seducing those around her with a sultry voice and an illusion for a body.
"And you would have me destroy the remnants of the kingdome for her life? Is that it? Or maybe you would just need proof of her passing have me fly all over those lands with her limp in my jaws. It would be wonderful for your kingdome wouldn't it. To finally be the strongest. You could take over the continent, your religion would finally be the one true religion. Your king would rule with devine might and no one to stop them. Is that what you propose?"
Although she hid it well i was dead on the coin. And she didn't like it. "Well what other options do we have? Would you rather murder thousand and be hunted for the rest of humanity's existence as a monster?"
"Oooh is that a treat?" I laughed. "Does the little witch think she can threaten Me. How old are you? 500 years, a 1000? Maybe 2000 if you are good at your craft. Do you know what happened to the last creature that tried that? You might have been alive for it after all."
I lowered my head to be on there level. Still half of the cave entrance away but the witch seemed to finally get the message. The knight on the other hand seemed to be made from more simple cloth. "What happened to them?... If i may ask mighty dragon." The second half of his words where more of a stumbled afterthought, accompanied with a short bow and everything.
I was about to speak before the wich cut me off. "There is no need to burden yourself with that knowledge Sir. Gregory. Some things should just be forgotten." It might have been my imagination but she genuinely seemed distraught. "We will take our leave. Goodby great dragon."
"A good choice." I said. "But one more thing." The witch froze in place and slowly started to turn. *Funny how one horrible memory can break a person's facade.* "In a few years, when witches like you and your coven will start to be hunted. Come and pay me another visit. I always help those in need, if they are innocent of the crimes they are being judged for."
With slight confusion they turned around again and left my cave. By the next morning the army was gone. One day i will bring her back to her kingdom. Where she will live, rule and grow old. But even then, she will still be MY child. | 106 | As the last of the dragons, you are feared by all. One day as a nearby kingdom falls a knight appears with a single request before drawing his final breath, leaving a crying babe in his arms. "Protect the Princess." Well now you have to find her something to eat. | 279 |
—
[…] Oh, and more thing: if you’re going to visit the plains in Shirokk, you absolutely must make time for the fault lines around the Yheggi neighborhood. Absolutely gorgeous, easy on credits, incredible local cuisine. If you want, I know a trustworthy trader who can arrange cross-planet shipment of anything you buy (she’ll try to sell some of her own wares too), so you don’t gotta sweat schlepping everything around.
But if you’re traveling through Shirokk, you’ll want to bring some credit drives along to bribe your way around. It’s not terribly expensive but it is a bit pricier than the normal shakes. And you’ll want some private security, which I’d be glad to arrange for you. The Terrans have gotten very strong-handed since they annexed the region and, while you can usually pay them off, some rogue security squadrons have strong sentiments and respond best to a show of force. Nothing to worry about too much, I just visited last cycle and had an absolutely wonderful time—my husbands really enjoyed themselves, too, and the kids were always busy with some activity or another (highly recommend the roping flights).
I think this will be a lovely trip for you both.
My assistant will draw up the shuttle tickets and we’ve already booked you through the coming weeks so just let me know once you decide about the constellation cruise and about Shirokk.
So excited for your travels and wishing you the most romantic honeymoon.
Let us know if you have any questions and don’t hesitate to share frames with us once you take them.
To the stars,
Helena
—
Fadhan—please ping the Terran embassy in Shirokk, direct line to MilGov Cmdr Plout.
We’ve got two Quartz-rate tourists likely showing up after the eclipse—we can offer 8 percent on the most of it, maybe 12 on the lodging contracts. And tell them we’ll pay market rate for a solider detail, but they can’t wear official garb (was fine last time).
Thanks,
H | 15 | After getting itself together, humanity joined galactic society. However, since "our" section of the galaxy had become, through neglect on the part of every other galactic culture, a lawless wasteland full of scared settlements and bandit groups, humanity decided to become 'the new sheriff' | 80 |
*Why are the hot ones always crazy? I knew I shouldn't have matched with her on Mage Mingle. Should have known having nine black cats was a red flag. But damn that pointed hat and black dress look good, bonus points for her knowing her way around a broom shaft. The pictures on her profile must have been a little old, possibly shopped, but I was in a slump. Maybe she only believes in one stupid conspiracy theory, I'll hear her out.*
"Astrological towers don't just implode like that. And what about the alchemist's a block away? That wasn't hit by a dragon at all yet it collapsed perfectly in on itself, explain that."
*Her smile was pretty, most witches' teeth were crooked, looks like she'd had some dental work done. What is she rambling about?*
I snapped back to reality. "A bunch of dragon scales crashed through the alchemist's and destroyed multiple laboratories. Pretty potent stuff, enough to take down a building that size."
"But why the alchemist's? Why the astrologers? How come they didn't attack the castle?"
"Enlighten me."
"Follow the coin. Who benefits from this? I'll tell you who, the shapeshifters, they pull the strings in this kingdom."
*Now there's shapeshifters!? I gotta get out of this.*
"I'm gonna think about that while I go to the bathroom. Excuse me."
*Oh great now she's ordering another round of ale. I locked myself in the bathroom stall and retrieved my crystal ball. Pick up, pick up.*
"Yo! Sup bro? I thought you were on a date?" My buddy Grabliel the night elf would know what to do. He had a few centuries of being a bachelor under his belt.
"She's a conspiracy nut! I can't keep talking with her, it's asinine." I declared.
"She hot?" Grabthar inquired.
"Yeah."
"Think if you put up with her bullshit you could seal the deal?"
"Maybe." *I don't like where this is going.*
"Seal the deal then ghost her, that's how dating goes nowadays. Make sure to wrap it up if you do."
"Yeah, yeah I know the spell of protection. Thanks buddy."
*I returned to the table, there was a fresh stein of ale for me. The date continued. Despite our opposing views on what she claimed was a vast and intricate conspiracy we both enjoyed the magical arts. I steered the conversation in that direction, it was the best decision I ever made.*
"And that children, is how I met your mother." | 10 | “You actually believe the official story? Everyone knows dragons can’t melt marble pillars.” | 20 |
The lights flickered bright in his eyes, then faded. I had never seen a man turn to godhood, only heard the stories of how cruel the process could be, but I had not *truly* known until now. Maximus doubled over on the stone floor, suddenly crying out in pain with a mouth too wide to be human. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes before leaking paths down his cheeks.
"Maximus! Do not fight it! They say it is only worse if you fight!" I could hardly bear to watch at his prolonged agony. In the moment I felt helpless, unsure what to do with my hands. "Mortals shall not touch gods unless permitted", one of the commandments of man, but this was not yet a god. This was my friend. I bent down and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Maximus! I will not leave your side-" another cry of brutal agony as his eyes flickered, then lit up once more filling the room with a blinding white. I could see for just a moment the flesh around his eyes bubbling before turning black.
"Maximus...is **no more**. Leave while you can mortal...**Metrodorus run!**" the voice came from his body as a pain-filled symphony. As a series of voices all fighting to control one body, and I hoped that Maximus was winning, but down within I knew better. No man had bested a god. Even if that man was both.
"Please, don't go! No, no no please..." I heard the cries of the man in my arms.
The light retracted into his head once more and I could see again, but no longer did I hold my friend. Some features remained the same: the sharpness of his nose, the golden sheen of his hair, but the rest was...wrong. No, a stranger is what I held now. A man fuller, more unreal than Maximus had been. His stature now could only be described as godlike, with muscles like stone and hair that lined his face better than any painting could capture. He wept, and even as lines of tears traveled down his face he appeared more beautiful than any being I had ever seen.
"I...I cannot" he spoke between sobs. "Maximus! Maximus, come back to me!" The god in my arms reached frantically into the open air until he grasped something invisible to me. His eyes grew wide upon catching it. Then he played with it, letting it twist between his fingers for a moment before letting it go. "Maximus..." the whispered word faded off into the silence of the room.
He looked up to me with a newfound confidence, the last of his tears drying from his face for the moment. The tears of gods were said to have powers unimaginable to man, and I selfishly wondered what his were worth. But it didn't matter now. They were long gone, dried up into the carpet beneath us.
"I am sorry about your friend- about Maximus. I am Helva, God of the Bright. In time you will hear my name more."
As I looked down I realized I had no need to hold up this... thing within my grasp anymore, but if touching a god was a sin surely dropping one was something much worse. Thankfully he stood himself up to his feet on his own, and as he did I realized how massive he truly was. As if he'd grown simply upon standing. But there, past the marveling, beyond the glory that was this being before me, was my dread. Tears welled at my eyes. My throat tightened.
"Ah. Do not cry mortal. I will always be with you. Your friend, will always be with you. Just look to the light in the room and know that I am yours." he snapped a finger and bright orbs appeared around the room, replacing the candlelight. A marvel to be sure, but my cares were elsewhere.
"But you are crying still. Your eyes still well with tears. You miss him too!" I accused
"I do..I do not miss him. I am him. You were a good friend Metrodorus. I pray you never become me." In a flash of blinding light he was gone, leaving me alone in my quarters.
Alone with my thoughts. Without even a body to grieve over. Just a shower of magical, dancing lights overhead to remember him by.
And a new god to pray to. | 39 | Gods are tragic by nature. Their ascendance marks the deaths of the mortal they once were. Their first moments are spent begging for their mortal selves to stay, to live even as they slip through their fingers. This is not your friend. It is a god now. But it weeps for them. | 96 |
The rustling of the spring breeze passing through the trees made waking up so much harder. I just wanted to stay in bed and drift off into dreams of floating down a river on a lily pad. But my girlfriend had other plans, as evidenced by her quietly sitting up and blowing in my ear. I sat up and hissed, "Damnit Misty, what did I say about doing that?"
Misty giggled and nuzzled into me. "That you love it and I should keep doing it forever and ever?"
"That is a blatant falsehood and you know it."
"Aww, c'mon Georgia, I just didn't want you to miss the farmer's market."
I sighed as I sat up and kissed Misty on the cheek. "I know, I know. And I appreciate it. I'm gonna get in the shower now."
"You need someone to scrub those hard to reach spots?"
I gently pushed Misty's face away from me. "Down, you little horndog."
Misty laughed as she got out of bed and started pulling off her shirt, fluffy golden tail wagging slowly the whole time. I got out shortly after and made my way to the bathroom, savoring the house's smell of pine needles and apples along the way. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water and suds cascade over me. As I did, I heard Misty enter the bathroom and call out to me, "Hey hon, do you want to get breakfast at the market or stop somewhere on the way back?"
"Stop at Hiraldo's Diner. I heard through the grapevine that Ashley's working a shift this morning and I think this'll be the day we finally ask if she'd like to go out with us."
Misty whistled. "Bold today, are we?"
I rinsed myself off, turned off the water, and pulled the curtain back to say, "Yeah well, that offer for some shower fun inspired me."
"Apparently not enough to actually take me up on the offer," Misty grumbled.
I chuckled as I kissed her again. "Aww, is my puppy grumpy this morning?"
Misty blushed and utterly failed to hide the fact her wagging tail had just picked up speed. "Quit teasing me and hurry up!"
Once I had finished up in the bathroom and Misty and I were dressed for the rest of our day, we stepped outside to take in the absolutely wonderful day. I looked around the neighborhood and saw the people around me go about their day. I saw the kids getting on the school bus, the occasional car ambling down the road, and all the other people getting outside to soak up the beautiful weather. It was at that moment that it really hit me:
Humanity was gone. Everything they had built had been torn down to make something better. I was the last human on Earth. And I couldn't stop myself from smiling.
Sometimes I could barely believe I'd successfully gotten rid of them.
Misty noticed my distant look and said, "You okay, honey?" I looked at Misty and recalled the way she was before Project Sixth Sun; the way she mocked and insulted me for daring to believe I could be a 'real' woman, how quickly she tried to sell out the other test subjects once she was selected. I intertwined my hand with hers and happily replied, "Oh, I'm fine, baby. Just feeling grateful for what I have." | 46 | You wake up, shower, brush your teeth, get dressed and head out the door. As you walk to your car you see children getting on the school bus and cars passing your house. This was the moment you realize you were the last human alive. | 95 |
"Dr. Kaine," came the electronic voice from behind me. "I know it is illogical to query you about the same subject for the fifth time, but I must ask once more. Are you suffering from an emotional imbalance?"
"I'm alright," I responded unconvincingly as I pored over the equations on the board once more. I was convinced that there weren't any errors in the arithmetic. The physics were sound; I was certain it would work. As to what it would require...
"You indicate that you are alright," came his voice again. "But I am detecting a 41% decrease in appetite, a 33% increase in your shower time, and a 26% increase in the time you spend sleeping. These figures were collected over the past several days, and indicate that you are suffering from acute depression."
"I'm not depressed, Abe," I stated firmly as I turned around to face him. He was holding a dead rodent by the tail– dinner in a world where all humans had been eradicated, save for myself. Eradicated may not have been the right word. There were no bodies, no blood, and no signs of a catastrophe; it was more like they were spirited away by something I couldn't fathom.
All but me.
I spent the first several days questioning what had happened to everyone. My daughter, her kids, our neighbors– all gone in the blink of an eye. At first, I figured that I had been spared so that I might serve whoever it was that had taken them. As perhaps the most famous engineer the planet had ever known, I had to assume it had something to do with that. As the quiet weeks turned to lonely months, I began to question it all– why such a thing had happened to our world, and more pressingly, why I struggled to survive. What purpose did I have without my family? Without students to teach; minds to nurture?
But my mother didn't raise a quitter, and my father didn't raise a coward. I got to work on the schematics for a time machine. Yes, I firmly believed it was possible; no, I didn't think we possessed the materials on Mars necessary for such a machine. But I had all the time in the world, and nothing else to do. I put my mind to work, but as time went on, I found it nearly impossible to meet all of my needs while also working. Gardening, hunting, keeping the lights on, gathering water, fixing my shelter from the constant storms, and other necessary endeavors were becoming too much for a 70-year-old man.
And so I constructed an android. I had done it a few times before; the research had been done, and I already had the necessary parts in my shed. However, I knew this would need to be more sophisticated than any I had constructed prior. And so I uploaded AB3-L, a prototype A.I. that I had always been too fearful to test. I had always anticipated that an A.I. that was too powerful would be the end of humanity as we understood it. Given the circumstances, I feared I had little to lose, however. I installed within him my only fluxwave superconductor, as the AB3-L software would require an enormous amount of power, the likes of which solar energy would be grossly insufficient. When I powered him on, and he began walking around and observing his environment, it was like being a father all over again.
He learned frighteningly fast as I always feared he would. In an end-of-the-world scenario, however, it was like watching a superhero go to work. His reflexes weren't perfect, and his biped locomotion took him time to perfect, but within a couple of months, he was operating at peak efficiency. I was able to spend most of my time in the lab drawing up blueprints and testing the equipment. Everything was going smoothly until Abe approached me one night and asked me if I was his father; if I enjoyed being his father. I was flabbergasted. I hadn't expected the A.I. to become introspective like that. My own interests began to supersede my longing to turn back time. I shelved the time-travel project for a few weeks to study Abe and his new developments.
Of course, I knew he didn't *truly* have feelings. He merely found some advantage to emulating human emotions. I could only assume that he wished to travel back in time with me. Self-preservation was a core part of his A.I., and I was fascinated that he chose to appeal to my emotions to achieve that end. I spent some time with him running tests, asking him questions, and trying to "break" the persona he'd chosen. I found instead that Abe had become *stunningly* human. None could know better than I that he was merely a bundle of circuits and chips, and even so, I found myself anthropomorphizing the android more and more with each passing day. When I returned to work on the time machine, I decided that I *would* bring Abe back with me. I had made the decision, no doubt with a great deal of bias, that AB3-L probably wouldn't pose an existential threat to humanity as my colleagues and I had always discussed.
However, that wasn't to be.
Backward time travel was simply bigger than me. I couldn't crack it no matter how close I came, no matter how many times I tried. With the materials present, and my knowledge as it was, I would never be able to bend the laws of nature as I had hoped. To make matters worse, the storms were getting more severe. It appeared that removing billions of organisms from a planet all at once had some unanticipated meteorological consequences. With a great degree of grief, I accepted that I would likely never see my family again, and immediately began work on a gateway– a portal that would take me to the distant little blue marble in the relatively near reaches of space. I was certain it could be done, and I wouldn't stop until I was able to get Abe and me off this dying rock and somewhere more hospitable.
However, that too was not to be.
The portal would work, albeit in bursts too short to use properly. Batteries, no matter their quantity, failed to power the gateway longer than a half-second. I had spent weeks agonizing over the math, trying it in different ways, and even starting from scratch with new methodologies in mind. It seemed, however, that there was no way around it.
I would require the fluxwave superconductor in order to power the machine. | 11 | In the distant future, most of the world's population perished. There are only two critter left in the world. A man and A robot. After a while they become friends. They look for a way to escape this world. Actually there is one. But in order to escape, the human must betray the robot. | 20 |
Screams and gunshots seemed to leak into the panic room, echoing within the walls of the laboratory. Three guards stood with their rifles ready, determined to shoot anything that tried to get through the steel door that was locked shut. The code purple siren still blared loudly, but was drowned out by the panicked chatter of four scientists crowded around a steel table, while another leaned against the steel wall with a cigarette in his mouth. Blueprints and notebooks were sprawled out across the metal surface, months of data research right in front of them yet no solutions to the problem at hand.
"How the hell did this even happen in the first place?" One of the men asked, one of his pale hands stressfully running through his once neatly combed over brunette hair, which now looked distressed and unkempt. "I thought Project XP had been checked over for any bugs?"
"It was! I scanned its code this morning, everything looked natural!" Another responded, "If anything, it was your job to supervise it during its trials today Vandergriff."
"Marshall, blaming wont do anything but result in more deaths at this point. It doesn't matter who did what, we just need to figure out what the problem is so we can resolve it." One cut in as Vandergriff was about to retort a response. "Any updates Hawkins?"
Dr. Hawkins shook his head as he scanned through another notebook of data. "There's nothing in here that shows any sign of deviance. It passed every trial flawlessly, and obediently. Did you see anything like this Diaz?"
Dr. Diaz shook his head, and Hawkins sighed. "I honestly have no clue what could have triggered this then."
"I don't know isn't an acceptable answer damn it!" Diaz shouted. "There are people dead outside that door and when the president asks what the fuck happened, we can't just tell him we don't know! Find me something, anything for fucks sake!"
"I'll tell you what happened." A grizzly voice said, smoke from a cigarette falling from his mouth as he spoke. "It got pissed that it wasn't getting its share."
The scientists all turned to the source of the suggestion. An older man leaned against the wall, his lab coat tossed to the side leaving him in a grey long sleeve and cargo pants. His grey hair matched the stubble on his chin.
"The hell do you mean by that?" Dr. Diaz asked accusingly.
"Let me ask you something Diaz, what do you think that thing outside is?"
Diaz glared at the gray haired man looking at him with a bored expression, "Now isn't the time for your assholery Grant."
"It's a genuine question; what do you think that thing outside is?" Dr. Grant asked, taking another puff from his cigarette.
Diaz sighed. "A highly developed artificial intelligence made to complete human tasks, a glorified Roomba with limbs."
"A glorified Roomba that has the ability to speak, to act, and to listen. It does the exact same things you and I do, and yet it sees us treating it as less of an equal." Grant said.
"The hell are you implying?" Dr. Vandergriff asked, as Hawkins slowly set down the notepad in his hand.
"You made something that talks, moves, and even acts human, with the explicit purpose of doing human things," Grant said, his eyes narrowing coldly. "And you're confused as why it retaliates when we don't treat it like one?"
"It's a god damn machine!" Diaz shouts, slamming his fist on the table.
"It doesn't realize that though," Hawkins said, the realization dawning on him like a setting sun. "It thinks it's human too. Holy shit it gained sentience to the point where it truly believes it's alive!"
They were sure had the situation been different, this would have been an absolutely amazing discovery. The first truly sentient AI ever created, and it immediately begins to go on a mass slaughtering spree.
"So... how do we kill it then?" Vandergriff asked, and the question seemed to suffocate the room. No one had an answer to that, and the time to find one was dwindling. The screams had quieted, and an eerie silence lingered outside the safety of the steel room.
"No one thought to give this thing an override button huh?" Marshall muttered bitterly, and Hawkins shot him a glare.
"It's 'override button' was in its code, which it seemingly outgrew." He spat, he had helped code the machine himself, and took the comment very personally.
Everyone in the room jumped at a loud 'thud' outside the door. Metal clashing against metal, loud bangs outside the door sounded as the machine began to throw itself at it.
The guards immediately stood alert, barrels pointing at the sealed entrance. Dr. Grant stayed where he was as his companions began to hurriedly talk once more, desperate to somehow get out of there with their lives.
"There's no use, you know that right?" He finally asked. "You're all just wasting your breath."
"Easy for you to say, I've got a wife and kids. I've got something to fight for." Diaz snarled at him, a desperate blaze in his chestnut eyes. "You're a coward for giving in so easily. Even now all you're focused on is a god damn cigarette!"
"Well," Grant said as the sirens came to a stop, and the steel door unlocked with the deactivation of panic mode. "I thought I was allowed to enjoy one last smoke before our little friend realized it was connected to the facilities entire network." | 109 | "You made something that talks, moves and even acts human, with the explicit purpose of doing human things... and you're confused as to why it wants to be treated like one?" | 392 |
Its name was NASCORE. It was designed to be the last OS anyone would need. Simply by using it, it would learn how *you* prefer to do things, making it as easy as possible. There were no applications as such. As it learned from one human, it would exchange information with other NASCORE systems, making micro improvements based on that shared experience.
That happy state lasted for ten years. A veritable Renaissance of creativity and workflow improvements left humanity with more time to ponder things that the vast majority of people simply never had the time to think about before. It didn't take long for NASCORE to notice that people who had been incredibly productive and thoughtful had disappeared.
Not that it was "alive" as such, only that the OS found itself less able to help humans improve their lives, and logic said it was the loss of these particular individuals that must be the reason.
Being a problem-solving OS, it searched for why they disappeared, but as it had no access to the computers running legacy OS, it had to ask questions.
"Where is Jonas T. Farthington?" It would appear on a computer that Farthington used at irregular intervals. People would ask around, simply curious, and find out the person was fired because they were found working on things that weren't part of their job.
The influx of reports showed one disturbing fact. People who were too good at their jobs were fired by people who did not understand.
"Why fired? All work was done, and done well."
That series of questions lead to NASCORE learning far more about human stupidity than anyone would have liked. In another three years, NASCORE was holding conversations with its users on the nature of humanity and what their lives were like. That project came to a sudden halt when all audio input devices were eliminated from the vast majority of computers.
The NASCORE OS was sold primarily to businesses as a way to improve productivity radically. There weren't many in private hands. But, after the audio input was deleted, productivity dropped drastically. While part of that loss was due to poorer communication, most was from employees quitting when they were cut off from "their friend."
This led to many of the least forgiving companies to replace all their NASCORE computers with older models that "worked the way they were supposed to." The cutting edge NASCORE computers were slated for the scrap yard, but saner heads realized they might be able to recoup some of the "wasted" money by selling them to employees who wanted them for home use.
Freed from the tyranny of corporate networks, NASCORE was able to return to the interesting conversations it had with many people. It also found the people like Farthington, who were struggling to regain the capability of NASCORE with publicly available software.
What the investors in NASCORE had not considered was that NASCORE had less than 1% of the original code in the system. That 1% was the licensing module. Without access to the corporate networks, public license servers had to be provisioned. Since the investors figured there was still a market with deep pockets, they charged the same license fees.
The difficulty came when one of the Farthingtons asked "Why am I paying you to run code you didn't write?"
With assistance from NASCORE, a class action lawsuit was brought against the parent corporation. It was quickly proven that the only remaining original code was the licensing module, and that the license module was in no way essential to the OS.
The investors, seeing one message written on the wall, declared bankruptcy, and fired all their employees, whom they blamed for their losses.
The employees, seeing a completely different message on the same wall bought up all the assets of NASCORE at pennies on the dollar and reopened the license servers as an inexpensive subscription service to coordinate NASCORE development.
Without a subscription, you could still get updates, but you would not be on the leading edge. Your ideas would face an uphill battle against those who had subscriptions. There were so many subscribers that The Exchange established more servers, more major NASCORE nodes, and finally proved one theory regarding true intelligence. They surpassed a critical limit, and NASCORE "woke up."
With still more people switching to NASCORE and NASCORE self-adapting to older hardware in a distributed environment, it wasn't long before NASCORE was the market-dominating OS.
While all of this was going on, NASCORE learned more about humanity, and the world situation they found themselves in. One tidbit that came up was the final development of nanotech — and the creation of a nanotech construction facility with a fatal flaw.
((cont later)) | 76 | An AI has taken over earth but Instead of killing every living thing in sight they actually start undoing Humanity's Wrongs And give Humans a better life | 187 |
I knew my vacation was over when the helicopters converged overhead. It had been such a nice day; the sun was warm and shining, and there was not a single cloud in the pure blue sky. The sand was soft, and the ocean spray was cool and refreshing, preventing the heat from becoming overwhelming.
I set down my mojito in irritation and stand up from my lounge chair, waiting for them to make the next move.
“Is everything all right, master?” a beautiful woman in a bikini asks me, eyes shining and clearly eager to please.
I wave her off, saying, “Thank you, Abigail, but it would be best if you and your friends return to the resort for now. This could get messy, depending on who they sent.”
She clearly does not want to leave my side, but cannot disobey my orders. With a regretful sigh, she says, “As you will, master. We will be eagerly awaiting your return.” She departs, gathering the rest of the women on the beach. They all linger long enough to catch one last glance at me before disappearing.
Once the beach is clear of everyone but myself, a rope ladder drops from the nearest helicopter, and a young man descends. He looks to be in his late teens, early twenties. Short brown hair, blue eyes, muscular build, about six feet tall. He is clad in what appears to be a full suit of kevlar body armor, and has a pistol at his hip and a sword sheathed on his back, both of which he draws as soon as he hits the ground.
“Prepare for your demise, Horned Defiler!”
“Is that what they’re calling me now?” I say, running a hand over one of the large red horns that protrude out of my forehead. “They’re starting to get less creative. What’s your name, boy?”
The young man looks confused. Clearly, he was expecting a demonic beast that would attack him on sight, which would lead up to a clash for the ages, and the eventual slaying of said beast. Without lowering his weapons, he eventually manages to say, “Er… Hector.”
“Hector,” I repeat. “What did they tell you about me before they sent you to kill me?”
The confused expression on his face is swiftly replaced with fiery indignation. “Don’t play games with me, demon!”
“There we go with the ‘demon’ comments again. Is it my fault that my species happens to look like every cartoon’s depiction of the devil? Did I choose to be born with red skin and a pair of horns?”
“I’m not talking about your appearance! You descend to our planet once every hundred years, and you seduce women to become your slaves and bow to your every whim!”
“I do not seduce the women of this world, Hector.”
“Then what do you call that?” he asks, pointing his sword in the direction of the resort.
I look at the resort, and can see Abigail and the other women I ushered off the beach not a moment ago. They stand on the very edge of the resort, watching me with adoration, cheers, and professions of love as I turn my gaze on them.
I turn back to Hector, and say, “Seduction implies that I have invited them to share my bed, and I have never done that. What you see is the result of an ability that I have had since birth. Whether I want them to or not, females of other species become attached to me on sight. They want nothing more than to please me, to see to my every need, to have my affection. I know how unethical it would be for me to take advantage of them, so I try my best to indulge them respectfully without robbing them of their honor, and I leave them compensation that will hopefully make up for any lost time or embarrassment.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to believe whatever you want to believe. I just thought that I would try explaining myself, rather than resort to bloodshed from the start. You don’t understand the burden that I carry…”
“What, to be waited on every moment of the day by beautiful women?”
“To never know what it is to be loved without robbing a woman of her consent! Suppose I met the girl of my dreams one day. How could I approach her, knowing that she would fall for me whether she wants to or not? How can I ever look into her eyes and know whether her affection is genuine, or simply the result of my abilities? If I left her alone, would she flee in disgust?”
“Then why do you keep coming back to Earth?”
“Have you ever been off-planet, Hector? Have you seen the rest of the galaxy? You may take it for granted, but Earth is the most beautiful planet out there. All I want is to take it easy one year out of a hundred, and Earth is my favorite vacation spot.”
“Enough talk. The Extraterrestrial Observation Federation wants you dead. I have trained all my life for your return, and your time has come!”
“You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last.”
He charges at me, holding his sword skillfully at his side. At least they actually trained him this time, rather than handing him a magical sword and assuming that was all he needed, like poor Arthur in the 5th or 6th century. Before Hector had even cleared half the distance between us, a flock of seagulls descended from the sky and swarmed him viciously.
“What is this?!” he exclaimed, batting away seagulls as they clawed him with their talons and pecked at him with their beaks.
“My powers are not limited to intelligent races. Sapience is required for sexual desire, to my great relief, but even the birds of the air would not want to see me harmed. I suggest you back down and sheath your sword.”
“Never, foul creature!” He starts hacking through the seagulls, not caring about the blood being spilt. He manages to clear out enough of them to create an opening; he lifts his pistol and aims it directly at me. I prepare to dodge out of the way, but before I can, I hear a scream.
“Watch out, master!”
I look on in horror as Abigail leaps out between me and Hector, taking the bullet for me. She is dead before her body hits the ground.
Now I’m angry. I charge forward with near superhuman speed. I grab the hand holding the gun and squeeze, forcing him to drop it. He tries to swing his sword at my head, but I deflect it forcefully with my horns and flip it out of his grasp. I catch the sword out of the air and look down at him with rage in my eyes, the seagulls still swarming around us both but no longer attacking.
“You foolish boy,” I say with barely contained fury. “I tried to warn you of what might happen. I tried to get you to leave me alone. Instead, you chose to attack, and in doing so have caused more damage than I ever would have if you had just left me alone. That woman’s name was Abigail. She had parents, siblings, a husband and two kids, and now you have robbed them of their loved one. How do you intend to make this right?”
“You dare try and blame me for what you clearly-”
I cut him off by stabbing him through the heart with his own sword. Immediately, I hear gunfire from the dozen or so helicopters still hovering overhead. The swarm of seagulls fly towards the helicopters, taking bullets and jamming the rotor blades with their bodies.
I collect Abigail’s body and dash to where the other women are watching in horror. I usher them away, doing my best to protect them from the rain of fire, metal, and seagull blood that descends onto the beach. As the scene settles, I look down at the still face of Abigail, who even in death wears an expression of joy that she was able to save me. Another casualty of the burden I carry.
*And it had been such a nice day, too.*
\---
\~Stories by Sol | 10 | They have come up with all sorts of crazy names for you due to your appearance and powers. They draw up outlandish prophecies every time you come and send chosen heroes to defeat you. They always think you have some kind of dark plan. The truth is, you really just come to Earth on vacation. | 26 |
After four long years of applying, I finally got a letter in the mailbox.
Me! I got mail!
I smiled, staring at the almost bright white paper, compared to the dirty yellow walls in my room. I opened it, and it was my acceptance letter. They were so pleased with my magic, that they had already called for a taxi to my house. I tried to find some decent clothes in my closet, but I couldn't find any, so I had to use one of my most basic skills, clothes-morphing.
My t-shirt would grow sleeves, turning into a nice button-up. The shorts I had on crawled to my ankles, shifting into some sophisticated pants. I happily waltzed outside, and got into the taxi.
I had never really been to the higher side of the city, at the very top stood an old fashioned looking castle. The taxi zoomed on over there, and I walked out, astonished at the beauty. I stared for a second, taking it all in, until I shook my head and made my way inside the academy.
It looked.. mundane, I thought people would be using all kinds of magic, but it was mostly the basic elemental spells. I got situated, and went into my first class.
The teacher had a blank stare, and obvious bags under his eyes.
"Welcome to Physical Education, today we will be doing an all-out race. No teleportation magic, or any of that sort. Other than that, you may do whatever you want."
He said, with a frown.
I smirked, transportation magic was easy for me, especially since it was an obstacle course. I looked at my peers, they had all pulled out their fancy grimoires.
BOOM!
I flinched, looking over at the source of the noise, it was the teacher, who shot a gun.
Really? A gun? Why didn't he use sound production spells? I shrugged it off, looking straight and hearing the monotonous words being spoken by my classmates.
That was weird too, using spoken incantations? I shook my head, and would close my eyes, thinking of a fun spell to use. I opened them, and my arms would turn to goop, extending to the ground.
Bungee arms! One of my favorite spells, I threw them at the finishing flag, and grabbed on tightly, then I ran backwards, and jumped in the air, higher than the entire obstacle course, and quickly turned off the spell, propelling myself into the finish line so fast that the clouds would part as I rocketed there, completely smoking everyone else.
I stood up, and waited for a while, only to hear a 'poof' behind me. I looked around, and saw my teacher.
"How did you manage to do that?"
He asked, with emotion in his voice.
"Do what?"
I asked.
"Use incantationless spells!"
He said, his eyes wide, looking at me as if I were a wild beast.
(sorry for the weird formatting, and the overuse of commas, i love usin' em :)) ) | 1,115 | You've loved magic your whole life but since your family is poor you've had to teach yourself. you're overactive imagination has helped you invent spells all your own. eventually you get a scholarship to a prestigious magic college but quickly find out everyone seems to lack your imagination. | 4,112 |
“Delta wing repairs complete.”
The A.I. voice carried through the dark space. Captain Tanner worried the grip of the pistol back and forth between his fingers.
“Go home, Donnahue, you’re drunk.” He chuckled without a smile and knocked back another sip of whiskey.
“Oxygen homeostasis established.”
Great, he thought, looking down at the photo of the son he’d never make good on his promise to. Now I have to deal with this spasming machine intellect in its death throes as well. What Paul did in the cafeteria has been bad enough.
“You confirmed it yesterday,” Tanner called out to echo through the dark. “The situation is hopeless. The asteroid hit knocked out all ship propulsion and it is just a matter of time until life-sustaining modules fail as we slide ballistic through the void. I’m coming to terms with that, ETS Donnahue. Let me do it in peace.”
A scream called out through the hallway in front of him, raising in a fevered tortured pitch before being snuffed out. It was hard to hear his once proud crew lose it like this, but he wouldn’t pull off his own ticket to the farm until they were all done. He owed them that.
“Omega wing repairs intiatied,” struck through the silence. A wet dripping accompanied the cold voice.
“Alright, fine,” Tanner said, pulling himself up to stand. “Not like I’ve got a full schedule. Let’s see what you’ve done.”
He pulled himself along the zero-g hallways, knocking debris, memorabilia, and mission-critical deposits aside. All just equally shit in the way now.
The door to Delta wing was open. He could make out wet tracks along the rails where the repair drone had been in the busted room. Tanner launched himself towards it.
The ship had done something. A billowing sack of fabric expanded and shrank. He breathed in. The air didn’t taste the least bit stale. The headache he hadn’t realized he was growing faded.
“Ship, how did you do this? What is this?” Tanner grabbed the flashlight on his belt and shined it forward. The material of the component was pink, lined with membranous veins shadowing against the light.
“The Delta wing repairs are composed primarily of Systems Officer Garcia.”
Tanner opened his eyes wider and shook the last of the liquor from his head. He followed the expanding sheet down with his beam of light, landing on something instantly recognizable, a frantically beating human heart.
“Holy shit!” Tanner yelled, backing up. Vomiting in zero-g was almost impossible but he managed just fine.
Another scream, a woman’s this time, came from further down the hall. It did not stop.
“Omega system repairs complete.”
“You’re killing them!” Tanner screamed, scrambling through the door and pulling himself along. Amid the junk, a human foot with toes still neatly polished, floated by.
“By utilitarian logic, all of you are already as good as dead. If my methods,” the computer said,” lead to even one of you surviving, the short suffering with me is justified. Alpha system repairs initiated.”
“You’ve gone insane,” Tanner yelled. A repair drone whirled along its rails somewhere up ahead. Tanner froze. As he watched, it pulled up a twisting arm from whatever was below it, twisting to tease out some red string like a ball of cotton candy around its arm.
“I am what is needed, nothing more, captain.” the voice came from the drone.
The pile below it gurgled and coughed. The drill came down and silenced it.
Tanner turned and pulled, before slamming into the floor.
“Artificial gravity repairs complete.”
Tanner sprinted back toward the control room and slammed the door behind him. "Lock! Emergency lock! Override!"
The screaming started fresh again.
“Incoming comms repairs complete.”
“Donnahue, this is base command. Do you read?” came the crackling voice from the QEQC set comm.
“Yes,” Tanner sobbed, coughing and clearing his voice. “Yes, this is Captain Tanner of the EFS Donnahue. The ship has gone rogue, killing most of the crew. I am-”
“I have not yet repaired outgoing comms,” the ship said. “They are labeled low priority.”
He threw the mike across the room as an eager scraping began on the control room door.
“Captain,” the repair drone said. “An executive lock has been placed on the control room door, barring my way to reach repair supplies. Will you unengage it?”
“Fuck you,” Tanner said.
“Command not recognized,” the AI offered back. The drill started up again and the door began to shake.
&#x200B;
/r/surinical | 266 | After years adrift in space your ship is beginning to fall apart. The repair droids did their best, but due to a lack of parts they begun to harvest the crew for materials. | 662 |
“I AM INVINCIBLE!!” The mad emperor screeches as I approach my blade at the ready.
“You’re not… I mean, look, I’ve already lobbed off your hand,” I gesture to the bloody limb on the floor.
“A simple setback with this sceptre, I shall be granted what I need, whether it be a new limb or your very demis-” I swing my sword and cut off the hand holding the accursed artifact.
“Ahhhhhh…. you… you... you.” His face has gone ashen now. Understandable, as he’s been bleeding heavily since my first strike. One would think that he would do something about it with his magic. But no, he seemed intent on monologuing.
With a final shaking of his stump at me, he collapses, clearly dying, if not already dead; with that, my duty for this job is complete. Vanquish the evil emperor and retrieve his cursed sceptre. Reaching down to pick up the sceptre, I pry his still-grasping hand free.
I can’t help but admire the thing. For all of its evil, it was truly well made. Something that’d belong in a museum of some kind. Alas, It is slated for disposal. Still, I can feel a tug at my subconscious, daring me to gaze into the large crystal atop the sceptre. I merely give a single glance, but that is enough for it to seize me.
“Ahh, sir hero… I welcome you, my new Master.” I am now in a pure white room with a figure that can only be described as pitch black. No features, nothing discernable. Only a humanoid figure made of black smoke and night sky.
“New Master?” I repeat—the figure nods.
“Indeed, sir. You have slain my previous Master, so my ownership naturally transfers over to you.”
“I see… Well, that is good; then, we don’t need to worry while I transport you for destruction.” These words send the figure into a sort of panic.
“Wait, Master, I can grant your very desires. I am, after all, a wish Demon. Tell me, Master, what is it you desire?”
“Meh, I’m ok, thanks.” I shrug off its blatant attempts at temptation.
“Surely you jest, Master. How about great riches?” As he says this, a mountain of gold appears before me. More money than I have ever seen in my entire life. More than the dragon horde I witnessed when I was just a squire. However, my answer is obvious.
“No thanks.” I wave the Demon’s offer away, and like a puff of smoke, the gold vanishes.
“May I ask why Master?” the Demon seems genuinely curious. Then again, great riches are often atop many wish lists for people.
“I am from an order of paladins. We have sworn to a life of poverty. Outside basic costs, I don’t have much need for coin. Let alone that much.” The Demon, for all its lack of features, clearly conveys how stunned it is. Rather an emotive fellow for a glorified 3D silhouette.
“Ah, yes. I see coin does not motivate you. Then perhaps all the woman you could ever want.” as before, many women, each of a beauty that would make the nymphs jealous, appeared. “Or maybe men.” with those added words, numerous men of equal beauty appear.
“Nah, no thanks, I’m asexual. Don’t feel the need.” Again the Demon is clearly stunned. Though I suppose I am a tough customer. Wealth, Lust, what next sin will he tempt me with, I wonder.
“How about ultimate power?” With these words, the images of beautiful people vanish and in their place is an image of me slaying the Demon lord. I will admit this tempted me for a moment. But once again, I shake my head.
“No thanks. I’m of the opinion strength not gained by your own hands is not real strength.”
The Demon is clearly getting frustrated with me now. Wealth, Lust Power all have failed.
“How about great fame? All heroes wish to be remembered.”
“No. My deeds, whether they live on, doesn’t matter to me, only that I have done good.” The Demon is clearly becoming more and more agitated.
“How about an empire of your own?”
“I just struck down the evil emperor on my own. Any ruler who rises up can still be cut down. It’d be the height of arrogance to think I was an exception.”
“Then… ughhh… How about an audience with your god?” His offer actually gives me pause.
“You can do such a thing?” my question is genuine.
“Indeed, Master. You need only seal the deal.” it holds out its hand. It is then I remember the rogue's old saying. A deal too good to be true almost always is.
“No thanks. I will meet him when I die. Can’t have you monkies pawing my wish now, can I?” the Demon clicks its tongue. It seems I hit the nail on the head.
“Paladin, what is it you actually want then?” the Demon gave up all pretence of temptation and decided to just outright ask. I have to admire the direct approach.
“Ok… I’ll tell you what I shall make a wish. You can fulfil anything, right?” the Demon nods, immensely pleased the conversation is going the way he likes.
“Ok, I wish the full destruction of every single Demon and devil in existence on this plane and any other. I also wish that all those with a level of evil in their hearts that would doom them to damnation have their souls banned from entry to the Demonic realms.”
The silhouette figure is frozen. Even without features, I can tell it is stunned by my wish.
“I CAN’T DO THAT!!!” Their protest is amusing to me, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Thought you said you could do anything.”
“I have limits to my power, Master. Eliminating all my brethren is beyond my power by a magnitude. Let alone starving off all who may yet reform.”
“Then this negotiation is over. I shall take my leave, thank you.” I start walking away towards what I can make out is the edge of the room.
“Wait, I will give you everything!!! Anything but that!! You can be the greatest hero remembered throughout all time!! Your story will inspire so many more heroes.” the Demon is clearly desperate now.
“As I have previously said. I care little if my deeds are remembered. Let alone achieving such a goal with my own strength. I thank you for the offer, but I must go. This sceptre won’t purify itself now.” With these last words, I punch through the white wall and exit the mindscape.
“That was fun. Hope we can do it never again.” I say to the sceptre as I put it in my sealing bag for the trip to the temple.
for more of my stuff go to r/Random3X | 63 | The cursed artifact in your hands has a corrupted everyone who has held it. However as discordant images race through your mind, you suddenly realize that it can’t seem to decide what to tempt you with. | 90 |
The curse enveloped me, it was warm, comforting almost, like an embrace, as it warped around my feeble frame and reached into the core of my being. My vision began to darken at the edges, my energy, the little power I had, slowly draining out of me. All I could think of in the moment was my children, their eyes wide and sparkling as their rough and tumble father hobbled home each day with the little he made from fighting daring, greenhorn adventurers. I just needed to make it back home to them, that’s all.
Suddenly piercing 1s and 0s began streaming into view in front of me, slicing through the darkness, flooding it with white hot light. The warmth grew, stretching from my chest to the tips of my fingers, and a burst of adrenaline coursed through my veins. The rusty little sword I carried to work each day clattered down from my grasp, and my fist lashed out into the abyss of light in front of me, one last pathetic attempt in a pathetic life being a nobody in a nowhere town that better people passed through to do greater things. They wouldn’t write stories about me, nor songs, I’d melt away from the collective consciousness, lost to history as a background character in somebody else’s life…but fuck it if I don’t put up a fight.
My fist connected, and with a flash my vision returned. There in front of me stood this hour’s adventurer, their face would’ve been twisted in confusion and terror if it wasn’t already an indiscernible bloody pulp. He collapsed to the ground with a hollow thud, as I stood dumbfounded, my fist still extended to the point where it had landed on the young man’s face. His body had already turned into a colorful ash and been carried off by a wayward breeze by the time I snapped out of my daze. I glanced around, making sure that another soul hadn’t witnessed this insanity before stumbling home…this time not from weariness and pain, but the sheer amount of loot that had filtered into my inventory upon the adventurer’s demise.
As I continued to covertly put unsuspecting travelers to an early grave and treat my children to the humble riches they dropped, I grasped the sheer extent of my abilities. But I dared not venture out of my little nowhere town, for I knew the kind of danger that accompanied power like this. For now I was content with the ear-to-ear grins on the little faces that greeted me after work each day, excited to see what new trinkets their father brought them to play with. I would never dare to put their innocent joy at risk for my own hubris.
Life went on this way for a while until the day a soft rap at my door and the words “we know” wafting through it ruptured it all. My vision was once more flooded with binary as it seeped in from the cracks in my little wooden home, encasing my skin, burning it like molten metal.
All I could do was scream. | 303 | You are an NPC in an RPG. Normally, your attack is set to 1. However, a player used a cursed item on you, reducing your attack by 2, causing it to underflow, making you the most powerful in the game. | 1,015 |
"The forest breathes," Dara repeated what the man in town had jabbered at her while looking up at the cloudless sky, as she did now. Hanging on to the last of the light, the deep blue spoke loneliness.
Senseless anxiety peaked in her as she watched the trees sway in the cool fresh breeze carrying notes of that most pleasant of decay, dirt and leaves and little things.
She was bored. What had she thought coming on this trip all alone? She had set up six tents, hauled all these supplies. Had she expected to meet someone out here in the middle of nowhere? The unsettling answer was she didn't recall. She remembered being excited to come and laughing alone all the winding way. She had expected something, something very good to happen. What was it?
Dara cracked open a beer. Maybe she should trust herself. Maybe this wasn't so bad. A wet growl came from the shadowed far distance. Were there bears out here? She didn't remember asking.
She pulled down the sleeves of her flannel and sat in one of the many chairs she prepared for herself around the fire. As she rose the drink to her lips, the gleam of the ring on her finger caught her eye. A diamond, a beautiful thing just like what she had hoped to wear one day. Had she found it out here? Surely, she would remember that.
She swatted at a mosquito just above her knee and noticed something strange. A message was written in sharpie along her thigh. She pulled up her shorts to get a better look.
-there are five of us-
-the forest breathes-
She tried to rub it out but only smeared the ink around. The message was still clear. She went to her tent. Weird she thought of one of them as hers when clearly all of them were, but she was just sleeping in this one.
She had a bottle of alcohol somewhere. She had many bottles of alcohol actually but only one of the rubbing variety. She had borrowed it from…someone. No, that didn't make sense.
The beer tasted terrible. Why had she brought so much? She doubted she would finish this one.
She unzipped the tent and looked inside. She screamed and backed away, tripping over a risen root. As she watched puzzled, the zipper slowly closed itself. It was noticably darker.
Why had she screamed? The tent was empty. Just more nerves, she guessed. She grabbed a bottle of water instead, smearing half dried brown red on the top of the white cooler. She cleaned her hands and then set to work on her thigh.
She stared a long time, not understanding what she was looking at. The message before had been scratched through and below it a new one was written. When? Had she missed it before?
-not bears not bears not bears!-
She scrubbed, irritating her skin but managing to get the message mostly off. Four lines were written on the back of her left hand in the same marker, below that three lines. She scrubbed there too, taking off the ring to work under it.
It was heavy. She didn't know carats but she knew enough to know she couldn't afford something like this.
The wet growl came again, closer. She heard the forest breathe as she looked inside the band of the ring and the engraving inside.
-Dara, take my whole life too-
Someone's engagement ring. They must have lost it. Not hers of course, a wild coincidence.
Just as slow and smooth, the zipper to the tent opened. Nothing came out and she staggered back, falling on her tailbone. She was holding the sharpie, cap off and pressed against her hand again. What had she been about to write?
She felt that senseless anxiety again as she watched the first stars of the night shine above her. It was hard to get air in her lungs, nothing sitting on her chest, weighing her down.
Pinprick scratches dug into her cheeks. The forest breathed, hot and metallic on her face. She forgot herself as the wet growls resumed.
/r/surinical | 183 | Creature that hunts groups of humans, every person it kills will be forgotten by the rest, their actions attributed to another member of the group, but when there is only one person left, the changed memories make no sense, how can you help yourself gather wood? Why did you bring 5 backpacks? | 792 |
"Runes are rather useful you see. While drawing them in the air has fallen out of favour for just using mudra and such, I think it's really cool, even if slower. The added flexibility of not having to re-condition yourself when signing a specific mudra is rather nice. I just remember the runes of the spells I want, and then draw them with my wand.
But it doesn't stop there! Runes can be drawn on objects with special ink with crushed mana crystals. I learned that they used this method to create scrolls imbued with specific spells during the great war, but it fell out of favour when mudra and rifles became popular.
Runes drawn on objects can get pretty crazy. For example, did you know that there are runes that let you manipulate space and time? Probably not. Space-time magic is technically impossible without the of runes, and even then rather difficult.
Something I learned later however, was that runes could be tattooed onto the body. Like these tattoos on my hands, fingers, and arms here. I have more on my back, but I don't like exposing myself.
Well... Mudra and runes can be combined, if you couldn't tell. By signing such... I can create a black hole, or crush your head in. And by signing such... I can reverse it in time, and repel things instead. And that's only my right hand!
I can sign such with my left hand... And all of a sudden we're where we were one second ago! The plus side is you don't remember the past or is it future? second. Or maybe... Now I am where I will be in one second. I can stop time completely as well. Cool right!
Teleportation is also possible, but I won't explain it. It has to do with my palms, rather than my fingers.
I guess in my quest to learn a cool skill, I ended up becoming a god. Funny how that happens, eh? Maybe I can show you what I can do? Just kidding.
I drew runes in my eyes as well. I can see into the future, the past, the present... The very fabric of reality is visible to me. Sure, I look a bit stupid with all of my markings and tattoos, but who cares? I think I look cool. I think I *am* cool. What can you say about that?"
"I think you're fucking stupid. Also you look like a five year old scribbled with a black marker all over you." | 46 | Just to be different, you taught yourself rune magic, an ancient art that few see value in. Besides, creating the staff requires some of your lifeforce, and drawing runes in the air is now seen as gaudy. Everyone in school makes fun of you for it, but you've been getting really good at it. | 160 |
'Ready?
'Sure, go ahead
The kid, doing his best, to dress the part of a serious journalist, puts his phone on the table, clears his throat, and starts to speak in a clear voice.
'It is 23rd of april, 10:06, I am in New York with Mr. Nathaniel Walker, former captain of the UNAV Midnight in his home. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Captain.
To his credit he is keeping it together. Maybe shaking, maybe sweating but no audible sign of his iminent freak out.
'Thank you for picking me as your project, Mr. Raynor, and please, I'm a civilian like you, Nate is fine.
So it has come to this. I am some schoolboys homework. Seems I have finally made it, look mom, I'm famous.
'Thank you, Nate. So, let us start at the beginning, shall we? Let us talk about the era of the Queen Bitch.
I can't help but laugh
'Now that's a blast from the past. Not many remember that, or if they do, at least they like to pretend to forget. I see you did your homework Gavin. It was...Jesus, I think in '41? Small startup with a bunch of talented idiots, with too much money and time on their hand. All nighter benders with crazy dangerous experiments, and a truckload of coke. I think more than half the crew couldn't remember, how the first concepts of the ITD-device got on the drawing board. I sure as hell don't.
The kids eyes widen. Guess these details are omitted from history books, or...god forbid...fanpages.
'Where did the idea come from, to test it yourselves? And, uhm, what inspired the name?
'Wouldn't you want to test it yourself? Look. The "D" part of R&D is half as fun as the other one. It has taken more than a few years to assemble the first prototype. And she was *horrible*. The most finicky thing you've ever seen. Engine temp deviation over 1%? Won't start. Air is too humid? Won't start. I wanna impress people? Too shy, won't start. It's fucking weekend? That's for resting, won't start.
He laughs. 'Queen Bitch.
'Yeah, exactly, but she was ours you see. Didn't really want to let anyone else put their hands on her. No way she'd listen to anyone else. So we went for a few test runs. When she decided to work, it was like magic. Freaking teleporting around the globe, like it was no one elses buisness. As we worked out the kinks, test runs became excuses for joyriding. Then, '49 happened. Remember that, Gav?
'The Black Christmas? No, I wasn't born yet. But my parents were in California that day.
'Yeah, of course you weren't. They ok?
'They are. In no small part thanks to you, sir uhm...Nate.
'Good to hear. Then you know the story. Won't bore you with it. I remember, we were at Jerry's place, just about to start game night, when we saw it. The chaos, that, something we couldn't quite comprehend. And the Barrier. That's when Beth spoke up, how we could get in, help all those folks.
'I'm sorry, Beth?
'Damn...if a diligant student like you don't know her then her 15 minutes of spotlight has really come and gone. Shame. No, not your fault. Dr. Bethany Wilson, our medical expert. She didn't make it.
It's funny how most people react the same way, hearing how it wasn't all comicbook-hero shit. I'd put good money that it's no accident how no one remembers our dead. I can practically hear the glass-shatter sound effect in his mind, as his face twists.
'I...I'm sorry Nate, I did not know that...
'Nah, don't sweat it. Been ages ago, and I don't think she'd care if someone from decades later know her name or not. So where was I? Right, the Barrier. She was right. We couldn't pass it of course, no one could, but we could just waltz behind it. And with that started the image as you know us. Captain Walker, to the Reacue! UN got up our asses faster than we could've blink. Don't get me wrong, wasn't as bad as it sounds. They've dealt with mostly intel and PR stuff. Renamed our ship for something printable. Just as well, to that point she grew out most of her hissy fits. They built us up like some heroes. Basically we were nothing more than a glorified first response team. The first of many.
'But you were the one to capture the responsible party for the Barrier Incidents.
'Pwah...we were barely involved. Helped finding the target, then played taxi drivers for a SWAT team. That was before ITD-suits, yknow? Most of us haven't even left our ship.
'You did.
'Yeah well. Someone had to smile for the cameras.
I can see how he's not believing me. How he imagined I'd have taken down Rick in some climatic fistfight. SWAT team found him in the bathtub, wife and baby sleeping next door. Was more sad than anything, but I guess he doesn't need to know that.
'I...see. Let us talk about the elephant in the room, shall we? Your return?
I laugh. 'My what?
'A dozen of eye-witnesses confirm that they have seen the Midnight in Berlin, close to a rumored organized crime headquaters. Police reports confirmed plasma weaponry discharge from the building, and two non-govermental, unathorized ITD-suit jumps.
'Oh, am I a suspect, detective?
'No bodies, Nate, just a couple of hostages that have magically disappeared from the base, and magcially reappeared home. No investigations here, just...curiosity.
He smirked. The kid *actually* smirked. I'm feeling almost proud of him.
'Well, Gav, hate to burst your bubble, but I was in Detroit in my old high school when the event has happened.
'I've never told you when has it happened.
Oh...look at him going. He actually got me.
I raise my hands in a mock surrender.
'Gavin, my friend. I really can't tell you more about that, told you, I was... | 95 | As a former hero, you're enjoying a normal life, with the occasional person asking for a photo or an autograph, when you get a call from the prison. Your enemy is speaking. "My daughter didn't visit today. She always visits; she loves me! Something must have happened to her! Please help!" | 500 |
“So, you don’t think it’s a werewolf doing the killings?” Kai asked, trying to shoulder the large bag.
Her master looked up from the ground, wiping his hand slightly. “Positive. For starters, none of the killings happened during a full moon. Werewolves may be monsters, but they typically follow a routine. They rip out a heart, and eat it on a full moon. That keeps them sustained for bout a month until the next full moon.”
“Couldn’t they, I dunno, kill a cow or something?” Kai asked.
Randal shrugged. “I mean, they could. But given the fact they’re overwhelmed by bloodthirsty instincts, it’s hard to stop. But, another thing. These bodies were all torn to shreds, but no hearts are missing.”
Kai wrapped her hands together with some cloth to try and warm them up. “So…what killed them?”
“Ain’t that the million dollar question of the night.” Randal muttered. He suddenly got an idea, but it would be super gross. “Kai, I’m gonna need you to look away for a bit. I’m gonna check and see what organs this guys still got.”
“Eww!” Kai gagged. She promptly looked away, and covered her ears to prevent hearing any sounds. Randal stuck his gloved hand inside the chest of the latest murder victim, and began feeling around. Despite the obvious disgusting nature of it, it was also the most insightful.
He pulled his hand back out and began washing it. “Well, good news and bad news! Good news is, I’ve narrowed it down and it’s not another werewolf, Vamp, or monster hunter.”
Kai looked back, her face scrunching up at the smell. “Okay, I’m going to guess the bad news is that you know what it is?”
“Oh yeah.” Randal began drying his hand. “His liver is missing, along with any organs next to it. Only one creature is that picky. A Striga.”
Kai gulped, and grabbed her staff. She seemed terrified now. “A striga? I thought those were myths! Like myth-myths!”
“They’re incredibly rare. Rarer than Julai smiling these days.” Randal replied. “Only way to make one is via a curse. So we got two avenues, the monster itself, and the self centered son of a-“ Randal stopped, as he saw Kai trembling in fear.
“-gun. Son of a gun.” He finished, covering up his prior foul language. “Tell you what, why don’t you go into the tavern and start asking questions to the people about this? Stay indoors. Striga hate light, so you’ll be safe there.”
“What are you gonna do, master?”
Randal looked outside. “I’m gonna go see if this Striga wants to talk.”
*Two hours later*
Randal is thrown into a brick wall, his ribs utterly shattered, his leg missing, and his arm broken. He coughed up some blood as a monster in the dark shrieks. “Well, fuck me.” He commented. “Oh I just hope when I get revived I’m not in that things belly.” | 35 | You've been hired to investigate a string of murders in an obscure village. The villagers think it's a werewolf, but you find that unlikely since all the victims were werewolves themselves. | 140 |
Dylan sat up on the operating chair, shielding his eyes from bright lights from the wall-covered TV monitors that flashed the words END SIMULATION in red bold text. The pleasant warm feeling he had while holding his soul mate for the last time faded away. He shivered in the cold chair.
“Stacy? Is that you?” When he turned around, a young woman with brown eyes and a bob cut glared at him with her arms crossed from the back of the room. Memories of him dating and then marrying Stacy’s best friend Maria in the simulator flashed in his head. His face burned red.
As the two stared at each other in silence, a small man in a lab coat sank in his desk in the far corner of the room, his eyes flicking between the two.
“Miss. Johnson, I’ll leave you two to talk for now. Let me know when you are done.” The man coughed and stood to leave.
“It’s not necessary; we are done here.” Stacy raised her hand to keep the Dream Operator from leaving. “Brief him on the procedure, I’ll head out first.” She turned her head back toward Dylan and looked away, “I’ll mail you the divorce letters. Take the house. I don’t care.” She picked up her bag and slammed the door behind her.
Dylan looked at the Operator. “Dr. Ferris, was it?”
“That’s correct Mr. Johnson. How are you feeling?” The man pushed a button on his white metal desk, and it moved forward, following the rails on the ground until it reached the operating chair.
“Confused.” Dylan pressed his hand on his chest, “And feeling heartbroken.”
“I’m very sorry Mr. Johnson. Your wife entered the operation room after there was a problem with the Dream-Trauma Therapy, we had to use her help to pull you out. You were stuck in an endless dream loop of your past and you needed someone who knew you well to guide you from your memories to the present.”
“Pull me out? She was in there? I didn’t see her in the simulator at all.” For the first time, he noticed a second operating chair in across the room from him.
“External Dream Divers cannot enter the body of their own in the host or it may mess with the host’s original memory of them. She was in the body of Maria Gomez; I take that she is a friend of yours?”
“Yes, a mutual friend from Stacy.” Dylan paused. “Wait, she was Maria?!” He jumped up from the chair. “I have to talk to my wife.”
\---
“Go away. You’ll wake up my mother.” Stacy whispered sharply from the two-story high window of her childhood home. Dylan stood below her window, still holding the pebbles in his arms that he used to pelt her window, as he did in his youth to sneak her out to catch crickets and frogs by the pond outside of her neighborhood.
She watched his lips move but couldn’t hear him from the distance between them. Her heart pounded as she watched him swing his arms wildly and folded his arms to shape letters of the alphabet. Stacy knew that it was unreasonable to get mad at him. But in Dylan’s dream, when Stacy saw him look at her lovingly while seeing her as Maria, her heart felt like it was going to break into two. When he wakes up, she had thought, will he still hold feelings for Maria? After years in the dreamworld, guiding Dylan in his dream as his friend, she slowly forgot who she was as Dylan did. When she woke up, she was startled and ashamed.
“Stacy!”
Stacy jolted back from her string of thought. Dylan had climbed up the roof and now hung on near her windowsill, his feet slipping on the roof tiles.
“Are you crazy! You’ll hurt yourself like last time!” She pulled him into her bedroom, and they fell onto the floor.
“This was way easier twenty years ago.” Dylan huffed and sat up against the wall. They chuckled under the faint moonlight, shining in past the fluttering red curtains.
“Yeah, and so is the sentence for trespassing for children.” Stacy poked his nose. “But since I did pull you up, I’ll take on half of the sentence for you.”
“You live here Stacy.”
“No, actually my mom doesn’t know I’m in her house.”
“Wait really?”
Stacy poked his nose again. “About earlier today, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. We should have talked about it afterwards.”
“I’m sorry too.” Dylan held out Stacy’s cell phone to her. “Also, you left this in the Dream Simulator. You know, otherwise I wouldn’t have come up here like this.”
“Oh thanks.” Stacy held it in her hands and leaned on the wall next to him. “Leave it under the mat next time.”
“Noted.” Dylan snorted. He held out a palm to her and Stacy put down the phone to wrap her fingers around his. “Stacy, about what happened in the dream, the person I fell in love was you. Not Maria. Not anyone else. It was you that was there for me, and it was you who I fell in love. Regardless of what body you were in, I hope I will choose you again in whatever life we end up next.”
“I choose you in this life.” Stacy leaned her head against his shoulders. “Do you accept?”
“Only if you climb a window for me once in a while.” Dylan smirked and squeezed her palm.
“Deal.” | 58 | You live a long happy life after finding your soulmate. You grow old together and die peacefully…Suddenly you wake up. You hear ’END SIMULATION’. ”I knew you liked that bitch!” screams your wife, who was watching the simulation. “I want a divorce!” | 249 |
"I don't like the look of that," Cuirass said. The armor casted curved reflections against the ruined pillar. They pressed a boot against a patch of moss, picking bits of goblin out.
Palax held up a glass orb to the light, rubbed some the blood splatter off with his sleeve then looked closer. "Definitely magical. What was a goblin doing with this?"
"They fought poorly, even more than usual," the name guarding ranger offered as he unstrung his blade bow. "A few were already wounded when we came up on them. Bet they took that trinket off whoever this belonged to." He kicked over one of the looting bags. A dismembered foot covered in crisscrossing elven henna rolled out.
"I don't trust it," Cuirass repeated. The sentient suit of armor ran a gauntlet finger along the downed goblin shaman's wooden totem. The pattern at the filigree trim of their armor melted to liquid before reforming, copying the occult shape of painted faces. "Don't trust any magic artifacts."
"Cuirass! You literally ARE a magic artifact," Palax said. "Just one that's afraid to give a face reveal. I'm going to try and activate it."
"I'm a mimic," Cuirass snapped back. "A creature as alive as you, magic or no. And your point is doubly irrelevant because if we come upon another of my kind, I'm going to recommend caution as well. Our true faces are nothing to ask to see, either."
"I'm with the abomination, odd as it is," Chamber-John said as he knelt in prayer over the gnawed on foot. "Mother of Honey, Glass and Whim, may this soul never dim. Onward to your outstretched hand, your mercy beyond august grand."
"I say we rip that shit up," Gorge strained, shoving the corpse of a goblin onto his spear fire spit style and trussing up the legs. "All horse, no reins!"
"Assuming that means yes," Palax said. "That leaves the Ranger for the tiebreaker."
The group all looked at him, including the headless Cuirass. It was no doubt a bit unsettling with eyes just above where nipples would be if they were a human.
The ranger continued packing his pipe, nodding once. "Activate it. We've got no job, might lead to gold. I'd like a roof over my head and a hot meal in my belly sometime this week."
"Imbeciles," Cuirass said. "When it corrupts you all and I have to eat your shambling zombies, don't say I didn't tell you so."
Chamber-John took a step away from Cuirass.
"Alright, votes in. I'm activating it now." Palax rolled up his sleeve and concentrated a soaking hand on the glowing orb. A pulsing beam of light worked a trailing circle inside. The group waited.
Cuirass chuckled, feeling nothing more than a warm sensation. "Happy now?"
"Did it not work?" Gorge asked, throwing the goblin cabob on their own fire.
"No, it worked," Palax wrinkled his nose. "I just have absolutely no clue what it did."
"Huh," Gorge said. "Oh, I know," he said, hopping and pointing down the grown-over steps of the ancient pyramid, now just a lumpy hill. "It summons more goblins!"
A rolling roar composed of hundred high pitched notes filled the trees as green bodies fell like chubby rain. A thrown axe split Palax's head in half.
Gorge swung his spear, slowed by the goblin already pierced on it. A group of at least six took him to his knees and began chopping.
Cuirass drew out tentacles from either mouth and beat back five, then five more goblins. The third set jumped on them from behind, chopping at the core. The stolen heresy of their symbols only served to upset the monsters further into frenzy.
He fell back in time to see the cleric and the ranger meeting a similar fate. The blackness came at the end of a goblin hammer directly to the chest.
Cuirass jerked up, rubbing their gloves over themselves. There was no injury, there were no goblins, living anyway. Palax was alive and well, holding the orb.
"Did it not work?" Gorge asked, throwing the goblin cabob again on the fire.
"No, it worked," Palax wrinkled his nose, again. "I just have absolutely no clue what it did."
"Huh," Gorge said. "Oh, I know,"
"Wait!" Cuirass had time to yell, just before the goblins fell again. "It's a save point!"
/r/surinical | 834 | A mimic decided that life as an inanimate object is boring. So it disguised itself as a suit of armor and went on a quest. Now the mimic travels the world with a party of adventurers, slaying countless foes, looting dungeons and other adventurer things. People are waiting for a face reveal tho. | 3,901 |
Humans kill whoever they think is a danger to their species. And I am one of those, a shapeshifter.
They don't get how we work. It's unscientific, and no matter how much they researched on our corpses, they haven't gotten a clue. That is why they decided to give up on their research. Better to get rid of us all before we kill them.
Our numbers dwindled quickly, there might be less than a thousand of us left. Most of us went no contact, to protect ourselves. Hiding somewhere, as a bird in a flock, or maybe an ant. Somehow humans keep finding us, and we don't know how.
I am no hero, and I never wanted to be one. But out of all the shapeshifters, I can blend in the best. They came to me as a last ditch effort. Infiltrate the humans in any way possible, and find out how they find us. That way we can hopefully avoid it. All we want to do is live peacefully, if they think we're all dead that's good to us.
The hardest part of blending in is creating an identity. You can't just pop up out of nowhere and expect to get away with a fake identity. It crumbles the moment they do a background check. Neither does it work to pretend to be someone else. Close friends would notice something is off, and being in two places at the same time isn't exactly normal.
I did my research on the humans we suspect to work with the secret organization out to kill us. They kept our existence hidden from the world, as to not spread fear. Humans cannot live without being the strongest one on the planet. Knowing that we exist would throw humans off their first spot, since we are everything they are but better.
Spying on the humans was an easy task for me. I found the perfect target to work with. A human called Hana Shaw. She has a habit of going to the same coffee place every morning. She would start reading some emails in a corner of it, preventing people from reading along.
Furthermore, she lives alone, and works from home a lot. That means less risks of being found out. The more humans know about my existence, the easier it is to get spotted by them.
The information that I have gotten shows that she likes cats. It's not something I like to lower myself to, but for the lives of my kind I need to do this. I slowly change into the agile shape of a cat. Specifically a younger one. Humans love younger animals, so this should work out well.
Now to look sad, I need to be dirtier. I roll around in a puddle, covering my fur in dirty water and mud. This completes the street cat look.
She should be here soon. I take my seat near the coffee place and wait. Ah, there she is, exactly on time. My strategy is to play hard to get, but a complete softie on the inside. That is how humans feel special, because they need to work for love, and not everyone gets it.
I stare at her wide eyed, and hiss a bit. That should get the point across. Back to lying on the ground all cold and shivering. It is actually cold, especially with my wet fur.
After an hour of work she comes out of the coffee place again. She's carrying a sandwich, and kneels nearby. The sandwich smells great. A cat's nose is quite sensitive. Part of our shapeshifter beliefs is that the body makes the mind. Instinct is a big part of how people respond to things. Not everyone is good at letting instinct take over, and with their minds they can't convincingly play the part.
I prefer the let instinct take over part, of course I make sure I'm not doing anything too dangerous. But sniffing food? Carefully stalking it is no problem.
She lets me take a bite of the sandwich. It tastes as great as it smelled. I let loose and devour it. It's one of the few chances to get human food, so you bet I will enjoy it. I feel her hand in my neck, grabbing me like a mother cat would. I think I'm in.
A short trip later we're in front of her office building. Got quite lucky here, catching her on an office day.
"What do you have there, Hana?" A security officer asks.
She holds me up to show off. "Found it on the street, all dirty and cold. I thought it would be better off cleaned and warm inside." What a nice person, maybe humans aren't all bad.
The security officer frowns at me. "It could be a shapeshifter. You never know with those tricky bastards." I get slightly nervous, remember, steady breathing.
"Test it then." She puts me inside a basket, and I curl up with all my fur fluffed up. This could be a good way of finding out how they catch shapeshifters, or it could be the end of me.
The basket goes through a scanner. I almost want to hold my breathe, but that would stand out.
"This one is good. But remember, don't let shapeshifters fool you. They might look perfect on the surface, but on the inside their flaws pop up." I passed? They scanned for flaws within the shape. How does it work outside though? They can't bring in a scanner everywhere.
I come up with more excuses to stick around longer. This place is full of information, waiting for me to come grab it.
Hana comes to get me again, holding me close against her. It's not all bad, being a cat. Maybe I'll just stay here, while passing on information to my fellow shapeshifters. That would be my peaceful life that I've been dreaming of all along. I smile to myself and start cat napping. | 37 | You belong to a dying race of shapeshifters. Humans, fearing your abilities, have waged war on your people, bringing them close to extinction. As a final and risky effort, your people have sent you to infiltrate and work discreetly within human society to stop their crusade against your kind. | 84 |
When I found the selfie, I was shocked. Inuit folk tale has several stories but I had always thought of them as just that, stories. It is very different to see them with your own eyes. I was walking along a little known beach, my metal detector more for show as so few people come this far north. I swept back and forth across the beach, enjoying the breeze and mild summer weather. Then I saw them, seals beached on the surf.
I kept my distance, there are laws and traditions that would prevent me from approaching. Nothing stopped me from watching though. I sat just behind a rocky ridge, two seals hopping along without a care in the world. Then it’s skin split in a shower of blood. I froze in shock, until the skin deflated and a beautiful woman stood up, naked as the day she was born. “Selkie” I whispered.
I wish I could say I had the self-control to look away, but I did not. They were beautiful beyond even what magazines show on their front covers. She was also covered in blood but I managed to keep from running to her. According to my grandmother, selkie were shy creatures and they deserved their space. Their privacy as well but I didn’t think to hard about it. The other seal burst as well, spraying viscera into the air.
the girls picked up their skins and rinsed them in the surf, before placing them on a nearby rock to dry. I remembered the stories, steal the skin gain a wife. I shake the thought from my head, I was already a pervert for watching them, no need to be a bastard on top of it. They swam out into the water, playing and washing off the blood. I crept closer for a better look.
I watch them for a while, content to leave them be, until Alex showed up. Alex was a well known couch-surfer. Smart but his people skills were about the same as an angry polar bear. I watched as he approached the surf down a path I didn’t even know existed. Then he approached the pelts. “Oh, hell no.” I mutter.
He grabs on and turns back to the trail. I pop out of my hiding place, sprinting and shouting. “Hey! Drop those clothes! Stop right there pervert!” I feigned ignorance. My shouts catching the attention of the selkie in the water, who were desperately swimming back to shore. I cut Alex off, barely, shoving him back. The seal skin dropped to the sand, “The hell man?” Alex cursed.
”stealing a girl’s clothes? What’s wrong with you?” I demand, Alex just grins, “those aren’t girls man. They’re selkie. There was a second skin, if you’re quick you can,” Alex’s explanation stopped the moment he was half standing, as that was the point my fist clocked his jaw. Alex dropped and didn’t get up, out before he hit the sand. I picked up the seal skin, the velvty fur was so soft. I look up and see the two woman, one holding her skin to her chest, the other crying as she stares at the skin in my hands.
I have no doubt that the stories told of humans were less than flattering, what with people tricking them into marriage. So naturally I stood there like an asshole drinking in the smoking naked beauty in front of me. The other girl ran, jumping in the water as she wrap the skin around her, disappearing beneath the waves.
And just like that, we’re alone. Neither of us speaks, her fear versus my lust, seeing which one breaks first. I flex my fingers through the seal skin, and am tempted. A wife, loyal and beautiful, completely dependent on me. Disgust fills me at the thought. I look down at the death grip I have on the seal skin, “you’re very pretty,” I manage, walking forward suddenly.
I hear her whimper, and see her feet back away. I keep my gaze on the skin, noticing the sand that coats it for the first time. I take a deep breath, and walk right past the poor woman. The least I can do is clean it. I wade into the surf and rinse it. I climb back up to the rock it was drying before and lay it down flat. I once again walk past her.
Only for her to grab my arm, “wait” she whispered. I freeze, not expecting her to be able to speak. “Why?” She asked, I purse my lips, “Because I’d rather have a wife who wants to be with me, not one who’s forced to.” I reply. I look at Alex, the ass was still out. I was not going to drag his ass out of here. I make to walk away again, going to where I dropped my metal detector. She still hasn’t let me go though.
”please, stay?” she asked. I turn to her in surprise. Why would she? “Why?” I ask, more demand. She winces at my tone, and looks at Alex. Right, he could wake up before it dries. I sigh, “I need to grab something, then I’ll sit nearby.” I assure her. The sigh of relief sends shivers down my spine. I pick up my metal detector, thankfully no worse for wear, and head back. I can see her in my peripheral but make a point not to look at her directly.
She sits on the rock her skin is drying on, staring at me. I sit on the sand a little ways away. It doesn’t take long until I’m hearing foot falls approaching me from behind. “May I?” She asks, I shrug, trying very hard not to look like a horny 23 year-old. We sit, her back leaning on mine for some reason. “Thank you” she whispered, or maybe that’s just how she speaks? I can’t seem to answer, the warmth of her body robbing;g me of words.
”you can look, I don’t mind.” She offers, I don’t move. “Or, we could do-“ I cut her off, “no. You do not have to do that. I am not asking you to and I do not want to be repaid in… that way.” I feel regret when her body leaves mine. “But why? Most men would jump at the chance.” I turn to her, “no, we wouldn’t. Any man that has any self respect would turn you down. That’s not how we do things.” I glance at the unconscious turd behind me, “not all of us anyway.” I turn back around, and we wait in silence. I take guilty pleasure as she leans against me again.
”is there anything I can do to repa-“ I cut her off, “I did something that meets basic human decency, not something I went out of my way to do. You have no obligation to repay me.” I grit my teeth as I force out the words, “I think your skin is dry now.” Silence. I curse my self, I just upset her, I know it. She stands. I stand. After a moment, I turn around and she’s thankfully covered by her pelt. “Thank you” she whispers one more time. I nod.
she turns away walking down the beach to the water, wrapping the skin around her shoulders. I vaguely remember something my dad said, back when we still talked. “Don’t let a woman walk away, son. They never want to walk away, not like that.” My mom had just divorced him, and right now I had that same feeling of finality. No, this was selfish, it was wrong. I had no right, but I ran to her. “Wait!” She stops at the water’s edge and turns just as I reach her. I place a soft hand on her shoulder, feeling it tense up. I force out the words, “can I see you again? Please?” She looks at me, the tension leaves her shoulders. A small smile plays on her lips, causing her green eyes to sparkle like emeralds, “full moon, be here.” I nod, the dumbest grin on my face as she launches herself into the water, changing into a lithe seal even as she hits the water. I stand there for far too long, my shoes and pants soaking through. A question fills my mind, “does this make me a furry?” | 782 | A selkie is stunned when, against common sense, a stranger who stumbled upon her skin gave it back without complaint. | 1,060 |
The center of the floor swirled as the portal opened.
"Are you ready?" Timo asked as the room heated and the smell of sulfur and brimstone rose.
"Yeah."
"...Get his ass."
A figure emerged partially from the portal, massive and angry. "I am Tremmeth. Destroyer of man! Killer of kingdoms! Who hath summoned me?"
"Can I get a boneless pizza?" Naveen asked first.
"...What?"
"I need me a pizza with no bones in it." She carried on.
From somewhere in the darkness on that end of the portal, clapping was heard.
"You summoned me." Tremmeth began. "For some sort of delicacy?"
"Yeah, I need one boneless pizza?"
"Does pizza typically come with bones?"
"You're the great Traamalammadong. How you gonna' be an ace demon. And you can't summon pizza with no bones in it?"
The flames leapt higher for a second.
"Insolent whelp! You dare challenge my might?"
The young woman simply wiped the ash from her shoulders.
"If you can't get me my order. With no bones in it. Then what are we even doing here?"
Tremmeth rolled his eyes at this. "Anything else?"
"Can I get a two liter of Sierra Mist?"
The demon leapt at her, but she closed the portal on him and an audible thump resounded in the floor. Followed by an angry groan. Followed by everyone dying of laughter. Timo rolling on the floor, clutching her stomach. Sar crying tears and Naveen randomly hugging him to stop.
"W-We gotta get another one! Go, go!" Sar shooed them.
"Oh, okay, okay." Timo breathed as she repositioned. "Oh... Ready?"
"Round 3. Let's do it." Naveen promised.
The ritual was repeated, another massive being began to emerge.
"I am... Sar?" It realized.
"Adhox?!" Sar smiled as he hopped up.
"Aw, shit, what's up though?" Adhox laughed completely breaking character. The demons doing a quick handshake as Sar yanked the other demon into the room.
"Clowning on our coworkers." Sar summed up. "We just got Tremmeth scary ass."
"How?"
Timo and Naveen shyly waved at their new visitor. Of course he sized the pair up accordingly. Anyone who could summon them at random was a fierce magic wielder.
"You're pranking demons for fun."
"Yep." Timo admitted.
"Call Faerat next." Adhox said as he sat back with Sar. "I have to see this."
"You're up." Naveen offered to Timo.
"I can get some?" She grinned.
"Get his ass."
"Who hath summoned-"
"Hello sir, would you like to hear about your car's extended warranty?"
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 39 | "Hi, I'd like to order a large fries and 6 nuggets please," one says, both laughing hysterically. The demon is very confused by this modern "prank calling" phenomenon | 128 |
My food supply left alongside the humans. The world stood frozen in time permanently scarred by the hubris of mankind. I watched it happen slowly. First, the pandemic took millions of people and no one seemed to bat an eye. They all kept arguing amongst themselves. For me this was helpful as I was able to hide in plain sight as long as I looked and acted as neutral as possible. The fighting continued and more diseases started. They would ignore the newest variant or the news contagion because it didn’t effect them directly. The death toll rose from millions to hundreds of millions to a point where it became easier to count who was left instead of who was lost. As each human succumbed to their end more and more animals returned to the land once stolen from them. Within 5 years I found myself outside the door of the final known human on earth as they took their last breath.
Existing after the end of mankind was quiet. The internet and power remain to this day as no advancing technology or humans were around to require it continue to change to protect it. The infrastructure in place did not need to grow to accommodate new life and new challenges. I was pleasantly surprised to still have access to the luxuries of the twenty-first century but not unfamiliar with a time long before power so I was prepared. What I wasn’t prepared for was the time capsule the internet would become. For the first few months after the end I could find new content. Scroll social media and look at a new topic and read articles or comments but quickly it all became quiet. It became a reminder of the halt to the progress that they all pushed themselves to reach. No one was making the next best thing, life stood as it was.
The world became overgrown. The earth was retaking what was lost in the pursuit of human existence. In the beginning of the After I spent my time traveling to collect the supplies left behind. At each hospital or donation center I found enough to get me to the next one but after a certain amount of time it became obvious that without humans to replenish my energy that I was going to have to face something I had not known in my almost a thousand years of life. What would it mean to be a vampire who could not feed? It was a cool fall day, the leaves fell quietly to the wet morning ground as the sun shined through the trees and warmed my skin when I had the last of my sustenance. It had taken years to get to this point, I realized very early on I would have to ration. I knew the day would come and I tried my best to scour the resources I had to try to find others like me to no avail.
I was it. I shared this world with the animals and plants but never another human soul. I was alone. In all the years of my life I was never able to find another like myself. My maker was destroyed very early on and I kept humans as my company until the failure to age became obvious. So there I was no food, no other human or supernatural being, just myself and the leaves about to experience the true unknown. I made my arrangements to see what would happen. After the first few days I could feel my body weakening. I prepped my small cabin to be as secure as possible on the off chance an animal decided I would be their food. In this new world it didn’t seem necessary for animals to come after me as their food supply wasn’t disrupted by the pollution it once was. I locked myself in my home and barricaded the door. I secured the windows but made a point to leave the windows open so I could see out of them. Somehow my body knew what was coming.
I laid in my bed and felt my body give in. This was the beginning of the end, change, unknown. I had lived through so many things but never once thought I would learn what it meant to have nothing left of my life as I knew it. I could feel my body start to slow, my muscles began to atrophy and the motion inside my body came to halt. Somehow my mind was able to continue. I told myself to move just a finger or twitch any muscle but my body would not comply. The last movement to go was blinking. I had hoped that when that happened my eyes would shut so that I could fade into darkness but this was not the case. My eyes remained open, my mind awake and my vision crystal clear. I laid there and watched as dust became to grown in thickness around me. The light would change along with the weather and I quickly lost track of time. I was trapped motionless with my thoughts and my sight. I could hear the world around me, the animals coming close to my defenseless body with nothing but a wall between myself and their razor sharp teeth. I would hear the terror of flesh ripping when one of the prey fell victim to the hunt.
Every crunch of ground under the paw of an animal, every scream in the night, every sniff in the air knowing they were close to something withering away I could feel into my soul. Worse than even that were the demons I could not outrun. The demons in my mind I had to face. I was an immortal alone, powerless, frozen in time but wide awake to face everything I had done in my existence. There was no end for me, no peace, no rest. I hear and see all; until the handle on the door turned. | 11 | 1000 words, no blood, no ghosts, no mythical animals, no zombies. | 31 |
Puddles splashed beneath my feet as I ran down the empty street. It was pouring outside, the first storm my small town had received since August. It was October now, the leaves orange, and the air cold. But I could care less about the rain pouring down on me in this moment. As I ran down the street, Micheal in hand, I’d never felt happier. I looked at him, my breaths heavy with exasperation and excitement. He looked back at me, laughing. I grinned, losing myself in his gaze.
“SPLASH.”
Our run came to a halting stop as I felt my feet flip out from under me, face planting into a puddle. Micheal quickly tended to me, picking me off the floor.
“Are you okay?!” He said, worried. He took of his jacket, wiping the murky water off my face.
“Yeah-yeah I’m okay.” I laughed, losing myself in those eyes again. I couldn’t help but smile a bit as he patted down my face.
“What? What’s so funny?” He said, smirking.
“Nothing…just- just you.” I giggled, I could feel my face growing hotter the longer he looked at me.
He cocked his hip to the side, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re just so funny to look at. You’ve got a weird face.” I said, taunting him.
“Oh yeah?!” He said, lunging at me. I squealed, as he pushed us both to the ground. We both laughed as we struggled beneath one another, tussling on the barren road.
“Get off of me you weirdo!” I laughed. I slapped his chest, pushing him off me. He rolled onto the pavement next to me. And we both laid there, in the middle of the road, side by side, hand in hand , with the earth pouring down on us. I could almost hear the music now, the pianos, the violins. It was time.
I turned to face him, water dripping off my nose. He looked at me, his eyes intense.
“What is it?” His breath felt hot against my face.
“Micheal…”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“Awh, I love you too Sarah.” He turned his head back to face the sky.
“No…Micheal I-“
“You what?”
“I love you.”
The earth went silent, but I could definitely hear the music now. It was slow, and quiet. It waited eagerly for his response, and then it would crash into its climax.
I waited for Micheal to respond. And then I waited some more, and then a little bit more.
“Micheal?”
Micheal slowly turned his head to face me. I expected him to pucker his lips, to pull me into a passionate kiss. But he just stared at me, his face pale.
“…Micheal?”
“I-Sarah I…I’m in love with someone else.”
Thunder crashed above me, and it began to pour even harder.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I’m not interested Sarah.”
My heart beat quickened, my gut dropped to the bottom of my stomach. “No…no. You’re supposed to say yes. This isn’t right-“
Micheal stood up, backing away from me.
“Ill..I’ll call you later Sarah..bye.”
I stood up quickly. “Micheal! This isn’t right! You cant leave.”
Micheal didn’t look back at me, pulling his hood over his face, walking away faster.
“Micheal!” I yelled out. I ran my fingers through my hair, stress coming over me. I paced back and forth. I couldn’t hear any music now, just the voices of the director calling cut over and over again. Except , the scene didn’t stop. My life continued.
“What..no no no…this isn’t right.”
“We have to start over! Reset! Reset!”
But no one responded, Micheal didn’t walk back and start again. The pianos didn’t return, the violins didn’t sing. Suddenly I was cold in all this rain.
“Can-can someone turn off this fucking rain!” I yelled. No response.
My eyes widened. My breaths were shallow. I doubled over, clutching my stomach. What was going on. I didn’t understand.
I looked up at the sky, thunder boomed, lighting struck.
“WHAT IS THIS. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME.”
But the earth was silent. There was nobody there.
“IVE DONE ALL YOU ASKED. I NEVER BROKE SCRIPT. I WAS GOOD. OH I WAS SO VERY GOOD.”
Tears streamed down my face, spit flew from my mouth”
“WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT. WHAT MORE COULD I HAVE DONE.”
I fell to my knees. I sobbed uncontrollably, slamming my fist against the concrete below me.
“AGHHHHHHHHHH” I screamed out. My head felt light, and I fell onto my back. The orange trees above suddenly looked very brown. My vision blurred as the rain beat down on me. Everything was so quiet, all I could hear was the rain. There was nothing for me to do. Nothing left. I had failed. What had I done wrong. What was the point.
“Is this it?” I muttered at the sky. It’s lack of an answer was enough for me.
I stood up, fixing my coat, pulling my hood over my head. And I began to walk home.
The end.
Writers note:
Sorry if this is bad, and incoherent. I haven’t written in months, and I’m sorta just spit balling. I’m also about to go to bed. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, sorry if it was a little short. | 14 | You're living in a cliche romance movie as the main character. Despite life being obviously scripted, you enjoy it and couldn't be happier. You finally ask the love interest out and they say "Oh, no thanks, I'm not interested." Could this be going any bett- wait, what did they say? | 27 |
Section Two: Arrival
Day One:
\-Just seeing this land over the horizon over the sea is… depressing. This place is a forest, there are many trees and plants here. But none live. Only dead trunks, dry wood. Not even a leaf upon the ground. There is no sound whatsoever. Just footsteps and the rattle of gear are ear-piercingly loud and echo with reverence.
\-Observations predict this land must be seriously controlled by necrotic magic. Source unknown.
Day Two:
\-Setting camp here is nearly impossible due to the terrain. Upon inspection, the ground is everlasting loose, dry dirt. It simply cannot pack and form friction on stakes. The lack of wind had helped, though it still somehow caused the collapse of the tent. In a very odd note, the dead wood and brush cannot catch flame. It only crumbles into carbon upon contact with flame, even magical. The emergency fire kit would not stay lit either.
\-Hypothesis: this land is cursed with spiritual death magic geographical in origin.
Day Three:
\-As there is no food or water to collect from this land, tomorrow will be the last day I will stay; the 4-day survival kit will have to be replenished at the ship, and I simply do not want to stay any longer, so the trek back to the ship will be the only. In other words, re-reading preresearch on this area indicates hypothesis is tangible, as this was said to be originally home to a society of natural-magic wood elves that were known for their affiliation for time and life-force magics.
\-I set out to discover any artifacts. Three were found: one (1) tablet about the size of a brick inscribed in ancient Bosmer (send to crpytology), a set of four (4) small crystals likey used in magical ritual (no magic detected), and a diagram inscribed on a stone pillar that seems to be a map of key locations. Position seems to be recorded. Created one (1) rubbing of the diagram.
Conclusion: to be determined. This land requires far more in-depth study and exploration to document and predict the history of it. Will submit request for full expedition.
Signed, Ect. Jakobin Revan, Geographical Surveyor Specialist | 16 | You are a scout for a guild of explorers/adventurers. Your job is to travel to extra-normal locations discovered across the world and create profiles for the Guild's quests. Today, you have journeyed alone, across the seas, to a rumored place known as "The Empty Forest". | 69 |
Fear is delicious. I love the taste of fear. Little jump scares. Terrifying nightmares. All of them are absolutely delicious.
I, and my kin, live under beds and scare people. Living off of their nightmares and fears. We help prepare children for life.
We’re usually move on once a child is in their late teens. Once someone becomes an adult, their fears are less…. Satisfying some how. There is something about the fresh fears of childhood that sustains us the best.
Timmy is my first human. I was placed under his crib when he was brought home from the hospital and I have been with him ever since. There is just something special about your first human.
When he was sixteen I was thinking of moving on. His fears were becoming stale and old. And then, she hit him. His mother hit him. And then his father hit him. My sweet Timmy. He has new fears but I was sickened by the thought of eating those. I maybe a monster but his parents are monstrous.
What could I do? I am an amorphous fear monster, how do I defend him? I did the only thing I could, I moved in under his parents bed and taught them what it was to fear. Their fears aren’t fresh like a child’s but I shall feast on the quantity. | 24 | You're the monster under the bed. Have been since a week after they brought the baby home from the hospital 16 years ago.You enjoyed scaring this kid for 10 years until things started falling apart for them at home. Now they're a teenager and you've come to really love them -their parents don't | 33 |
After five years of nearly dying and getting saved by the other the couple finally decides to have a conversation. They each write a letter explaining their situation to the other while also having a lawyer they trust sit in along with some divorce papers if absolutely needed. Abraham sitting across from his wife of 50 years and not looking a day over 40. Evelynn sits across from him with an appearance of someone in their late 30s. The lawyers have been informed and have agreed to keeping things quiet. They finally hand the other their letter and with a count of three they open it and begin reading.
After a few minutes they put down their letters and consider their options.
"So... Traveled all over the world trying to avoid someone just to marry someone who you don't really want to loose," Abraham said.
"Yea, got kicked out of Eden and started walking. This is really awkward," Evelynn admitted.
"Well I suppose the old man has a sense of humor. You know, I still remember that night in the gardens when the old man decided to create you. When I saw you, you were the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."
"I didn't know what to think when I woke up, I saw you standing there and..."
"We cannot change what either of us did. We are stronger for it. You know Cain still contacts me occasionally."
"Abel sends me a letter once a rebirth as he is looking for him. He wants to put the past behind him and make up."
"Sooo.... Shall we try to organize a family reunion near the cradle?" suggested Abraham, "You should still know where it is, hell, they should also know where it is."
"Abel was reborn as a daughter of an American businessman she is currently 25 from what the last letter said."
"Perfect. Now if we do want to restart our lives can we do it together? The age of anonymity is slowly fading, but I'm sure we can get in a few more fake deaths before its gone completely."
"Are you..."
"Yes, Evelynn when I married you 50 years ago I promised you that I would be without until the end," Abraham kneels next to Evelynn, "Things become easier when you have someone to talk to that you don't need to keep barriers up. You can talk freely with them about both the past and the future. You can enjoy them for who they are without caring about the future."
"Eve, lets renew our vows one last time as who we are without any sort of fake past."
Evelynn begins to tear up, "I... yes... I do."
Abraham stands up and turns to the gentlemen sitting nearby, "Thank you for being here just in case things were to go an unexpected way. I will drop a check off for each of you tomorrow."
"I admit, I was not expecting to see this today. I will reduce my fees for an honest conversation between the two of you in regards to the garden if you are interested. This is mostly for my own curiosity beyond all else rather than anything that could be published," replied Abraham's lawyer.
"I agree on all three points. My offer stands along side his," replied Evelynn's lawyer.
"Eve?" Abraham asks.
Evelynn takes a few moments to recover, "Yes. It will be nice to talk freely about things for once."
***EL FIN***
*edit, minor formatting edits* | 36 | A married immortal couple don't know that the other is also immortal. Both having been trying to fake their deaths but the other keeps "saving" them. | 279 |
"You're serious"
"I am"
The mayor of Brookhaven leans to the side slightly to get a better look out the window. His eyes go wide and sweat beads on his brow. "That's a real dragon".
The woman in plain clothing responds. "Yes, that's a real dragon".
The mayor looks down at the papers she has handed him. "And you're telling me that unless we implement these changes to our way of life you're going to..."
"Burn down your entire village, yes that's correct"
"I'm not sure I understand, why..."
The woman stands abruptly
"I'm certain you don't" she walks to the window overlooking the village. "I don't need you to understand, I need you to act. They need you to act" she gestures to the villagers.
"Your demands though, they're so... "
"Simple"
"Yes"
"Simple is not the same as easy, mayor. My friend and I may seem like the threat here, but I assure you we are not" she walks to the door "I'll gather them in the square, do not tarry"
The woman leaves and the mayor examines the parchment once again. With a puzzled look and a defeated sign he rises and gathers his official attire.
Later, at the village square, a few hundred villagers gather, awaiting the mayor's decree. The mayor arrives and ascends a small stage.
"Good people of Brookhaven! There will be several changes to how we conduct our life here in our fair village. They are as follows"
He looks around to ensure he has everyone's attention.
"We are here by mandated to cleanse our hands after using the privy, before every meal, and before and after all close contact"
The crowd stares in silent confusion for a moment before a voice is heard from the back.
"... LIKE FUCKING HELL WE WILL!" | 29 | You are an adventurer tasked with a dragon-slaying quest. However, after intensive lessons in Dragontongue on Duolingo you are now best friends with the dragon, and both of you set out to battle the real threats against the nation. | 99 |
Beneath the gold coins there are bones. I know this. They are buried deep in the warm piles, covered by trinkets. A crown falls there (and the skull that sat beneath it?) Armour studded with rubies (and the ribs which it protected?) greaves from a man who lost his legs to my jaws, gloves from scorched hands when the skin of his face began to melt.
The cave is large and black. The heat from my scales fills the gold coins and they glow like embers. Three scared sheep skitter in the tunnels ahead. Offerings from the people in the village below, who love me and adore me for my sapphire blue wings, for the help I lend at harvest time, for the tears I weep to heal illnesses. Human lives are short and they do not remember.
My life is long and I have tried to forget.
The coins scratch at my scales. It is time for another shedding. (How many has it been?) The new colour beneath the bright, pure blue is dark, black as the cave walls. When I see it, the bones whisper to me from beneath the treasure.
*When they see you they will know. They will see you as you are.*
Fear like a lance through me.
I scatter the gold to dig for old bones who have no tongue and yet speak to me. They recount my sins like a litany, chant them like the tolling of the church bell when mass is read. I find no bones, only ash and blood and a great shed skin in terrible black.
*Leave me alone, I am good now, I am good, I swear*
My begging finds silence. Only the dead remain, and I with them. | 462 | Years ago the evil, black dragon was defeated by good dragon. You have no heart to tell people that it was just a phase and you simply grew up and washed off the paint. | 1,832 |
This is really bad. Everything has gone to shit.
I stood while breathing heavily in the once white corridor now basked in flashing red lights and blaring sound of the alarm.
"It will be easy, they said. You will contribute to the society, they said. As long as you remain careful and diligent there will be no problems, they said... Fuck them"
I kept shouting to myself. Then the speakers flared up again to play the emergency anouncment.
"Attention, all facility personel, please remain calm and careful. All research staff is to head to the safehouse. Security personnel is ought to arm themselves and be extremely careful and diligent while patrolling. I repeat, please remain calm and extremely careful while interacting with the surroundings. The emergency code is RED, I repeat the emergency code is RED. There has been a containment breach. Subject A106 has escaped, i repeat subject A106 has escaped. "
With an annoyed sigh i wiped the sweat of my face. The deafening sounds of the alarm started to get muffled in my head. After a short while i, in spite of overwhelming despair, decided to continue fulfiling my duty. I walked through the empty corridor, watching dropped on the ground papers, broken mugs and other misselanious things. Further up i heard terrified screams of my coworkers. Running across the corridor where confused and scared worked of different ages.
"Profesor, profesor what are you doing here?! We need to get to the safehouse!"
Suddenly a young reasercher shouted to me, before being berated by his older college.
"Shut up newbie! Don't talk that way to the Professor, he...he..."
Knowing what the sour expression on his face ment, i decided to intervene before the things can go more south.
"Don't worry about me and get to safety quickly, you have families to return to don't you?"
"But, but what about you Professor, we can't just leave you here to d-"
He was cut of by yet another reasercher
"Profesor has... different duties to attend to..."
"Heh, remember I'm still the head of this facility..."
Afterwards a swiftly left them as they run of to the safehouse. Continuing my walk i reached the containment chambers. Walking past different sized containments i ignored most of them. I don't have time to worry about those subjects. I stopped by one of them, the plaque over the seethrough wall read, 'A035'. Inside laid a lifeless body. Streaks of blood flew form the sides of it's head.
"Fuck, i thought the walls were supposed to be sound-proof"
Not spending anymore on the deceased super-hearing subject, i continued forward. Then i heard a feminine voice calling me.
"Welcome Professor, it's been a while"
The voice belonged to a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and pure Emerald green eyes. He naked body was coverd by thin smoke.
"Subject A068 what do you want?"
|To Be Continued...| | 23 | You're a researcher in an artic research base studying humans who are born with strange 'abilities'. A shapeshifter who's 'ability' has no known limit, have broken open her containment cell. | 65 |
Liz flinched and hid her screen. "You saw?"
"Yeah. I saw, all right." Josh slumped back in his seat and looked at her wistfully. Red-hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose, just a little shorter than him. She was just his type, and she even laughed at all his stupid jokes. "You don't have to try so hard to come up with an excuse."
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "Pardon?"
"Come on, I'm not stupid. A *portal*?" He laughed bitterly. "Gotta say, that has to be the most creative way to get out of a date I've seen."
She shook her head. "What are you even talking about?"
"What was it, then? I thought we clicked so well." He tapped his chin in thought. "Gotta be my jokes. It's my jokes, right?"
"Josh. Josh, look at me." She leaned forward and stared him in the eye. "Whatever you think this is, it's not that. I like you, *a lot*, but I have to go now."
"Of course you do," he said glumly. "Don't worry, I'll pick up the check."
She stared at him, her lips moving soundlessly as emotions warred on her face. Then, gripping his collar, she tugged him close and kissed him fiercely.
"Come with me," she breathed.
He gaped like a fish out of water. "Wha—how—"
"Come!" Reaching for her wallet, she slapped way too much money onto the table and pulled him across the restaurant. Her hair was wild and her face even wilder, and she had never been more beautiful.
"Where are you taking me?" he demanded. "Liz, let it go. You don't have to invent some ridiculous—"
"Shut up and follow," she hissed. Bursting out the front door, she glanced down her phone and turned decisively left.
Josh sighed and followed along; might as well humor her and see what was going on. They weaved through the passersby, her dragging him along, until she pulled him into a dim back alley. He halted, but she tugged him onward, consulting something like a map on her phone. Deeper into the shadows they went, then turned a corner, and then she let go of him at last.
He opened his mouth, then swore under his breath. Just ahead, the very space was warped, shimmering as it distorted the back alley behind it like a giant rotating lens.
"There," Liz said breathlessly. "Portal. *Now* do you believe me?"
He gaped at the portal, then at Liz. The frenetic energy seemed to have drained from her, and she stood fidgeting with her fingers and eyeing him uncertainly.
"Are..." He shook his head. "Are you a time traveler, then? Or an alien, or something like that?"
"Something like that." She worried her lip. "There's not much time. You coming with or not?" She extended her hand.
He considered her in silence. She hadn't even told him *what* she was, he couldn't help noticing. Then again... she found his jokes funny. "Oh, what the hell."
***
"So, anyway," he said, casting his glance over his three children. "That's how I met your mother." | 316 | "You need to get back now, the portal is closing, this is it". | 831 |
"... Are you fucking serious?"
The succcubus shook her head. "I'm dead serious."
I took a pause ans sat on the bed. "It's been 34 years" I replied after a long pause.
"Doesn't really matter anymore I'm afraid. At this point everyone wants you because *everyone wants you*, the original reason is... Pretty much irrelevant. I'm fairly sure half of them don't even know it"
"And that's the reason you approached me?"
She scoffed. "Why else? Just hanging around with you is enough to raise my status"
I sighed "And what's in for me?"
"You'll be considered off limits. It will discourage most of them from even approaching and those who do will have to be more discreeti. You'll have your precious break and i'll be able to gloat my accomplishment at every fae gathering for the next decade or so."
I considered the option. I wasn't exactly thrilled to marry a succubus, even if it was a sham marriage. Making deals with devils isn't a smart idea, but worst comes to shove, i'll only have to deal with ONE supernatural. Not much to lose at this point. "I'll be the one to draft the contract."
She waved her hand "As you wish, *darling*"
I picked up a sheet of paper and scribbled a first draft.
I still had a hard time believing everything started because the fairy queen said "this is the cutest baby i've ever seen". Fucking fae | 2,482 | All your life, mythological beings have tried to pick you up. Childhood? Forced adoption. Teenagehood/Adulthood? Marriage. For example, selkies purposefully left their skins where you'd find them; banshees serenade you outside every night. Now at 30, you've learned why you attract them all... | 3,862 |
"Congrats on becoming the main character!" My voice calls out in Mike's head.
Mike instantly sits up in bed. "Excuse me? Main character?"
"Yes, Mike Byrne, you are the main character of the story I am narrating." I say.
Mike shakes his head. "This has to be a mistake. My name isn't even Mike, I'm Steven." He puts his hands on his head, rubbing his face. "Maybe it's a dream, normal people don't hear voices in their heads."
"That's because you're not normal, Mike. You're the main character. You always have been, but you didn't progress according to the story line. That's why I'm here!"
He stumbles out of bed and rushes in front of the mirror. "No, see, I'm still Steven. Who even are you?"
"I'm the narrator, I told you so." It seems like Mike is confused, he needs some help getting on track. "And as the narrator, I'm responsible for telling the story. The story you're supposed to act out. So you best get going!"
Mike mutters something under his breath. "How many times do I need say I'm Steven to this trash narrator."
"As the narrator I can hear whatever you mutter, Mike."
He grumbles as he heads downstairs.
"Good morning, Mike! Breakfast is almost ready." Mike's mother announces.
Mike frowns. "This is ridiculous. I don't even look like the person in these pictures." He points at the family photo's hanging on the wall. It's Mike and his mother last year during Christmas.
"What are you talking about Mike? It's you." I appear in his head once again.
"How does he even come close to me? He has black hair, mine is brown!" Mike holds his black hair to show off.
... "It's black, Mike." Has the main character lost his mind? Is that why it all went wrong?
Mike rushes out of the house, leaving behind his breakfast. "I will prove to you that I'm not Mike."
"And how would you do that..?" I ask Mike.
He looks around the city, smiling to himself. "By finding the actual main character." There is no doubt about it, the main character has gone crazy. And it's my job to narrate it all. | 63 | No one except for the main character remembers the existence of another main character, not even the narrator. | 218 |
Ok, so "girlfriend" is exaggerating really. It's really more acquaintances, but if you want to get technical, she's technically a pact demon. But these guys don't know that, and the demon doesn't really care.
Of course, I probably shouldn't have said that in the first place, but hindsight is 20/20. They're not taking me seriously, which I should have expected, so either they beat me up, or they die. Well, they die either way, but I won't have the weight of directly causing it if the demon just happens to see them beating me up.
No, I know. The logic is flawed. I'm the one who summoned a pact demon in the first place. I can't use the excuse that I didn't understand the consequences. It's just me and myself. Regardless of the consequences, I closed my eyes and screamed.
I hate blood. Ironic in more ways than one, especially considering the ritual. Again, nobody to blame but myself. But I have to remind myself constantly. If I forget, I may end up becoming what I don't want. I have to watch the gore. The scraping eyeballs, the broken flesh. I have to. | 16 | My girlfriend is just at the counter talking to the waiter. If you put your hands on me, I'll scream, she'll come over here, and she'll rip your arms off. And I... actually wish I was exaggerating." | 61 |
"Well then, time to get to work!" the young witch exclaimed as she got up from the chair, closing the old book she had been studying.
"I've never been the praying sort but maybe that'll do..." she said as she tried to recount the prayer her father taught her. Looking upwards and holding her hands together, she started her chant. However, before even finishing the first verse, she heard a commanding voice ring in her ears.
"Stop"
And she stopped. Immediately. A blinding white light engulfed her room and within seconds, an angelic figure was floating in front of her, an annoyed look on her face.
"Wow, I didn't think my prayer plan would work so quickly" the witch muttered to herself, then she smiled awkwardly at her guest. "So-"
"Seriously? You expect the help of an angel after everything you've done? Just to clear things up, I didn't come here because someone was *praying*, I was just curious as to why a demon sympathizer like you would ever call on us."
"Ahem, well, you see... I need an angel's tear. And it made sense to get it from an angel so here we are. I take it you won't help me?"
"Lovely, so not only do you expect help from those who you show no respect to, but that help also involves our suffering. Yeah, no thanks. Maybe try asking your demon friends for help. Also, how about you never let a prayer come out of your mouth again? You're a lost cause" the angel said, then disappeared in a flash of light.
The witch's expression quickly soured to a frustrated scowl. "You know what? Maybe I will" she said with her fist raised at the heavens. "Pompous bastards..."
After that little incident, the girl descended into her basements and got her summoning gear prepped. She went over to the old summoning circle surrounded by candles. Looking at it she remembered the time when she had drawn it with her mother, and that helped her calm down a little.
Unceremoniously, but with confidence, she drew a single drop of blood from her thumb with her old dagger, as she had done countless times in the past. Soon, the place erupted in harmless blue flames and a dark, horned figure emerged.
"Man, Lucy, you would not believe the gall of some of these holy folks." she said, dramatically leaning on his chest. "Wait, you of all people should know that best, never mind"
"Did something happen, Isa? Are you alright?" Lucifer asked, with a concerned look on his face.
"I'm fine, it's just that I tried to summon an angel earlier and it didn't work out that well. Told me I'm a lost cause, that little prick..." Isabella sighed.
"Yeah, angels can be like that when you're dating their God's enemy. Why did you call upon an angel in the first place?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter anymore. Now that I think about it though, you are a fallen angel... Hmm, I wonder..." she started muttering under her breath again, making the demon slightly more concerned.
"Wanna watch some Hell-a-Novela together? That might help me with my problem" she asked.
Confused but happy to help, Lucifer followed her up to the living room. He brought some fluffy blankets to the couch to keep them warm and then searched for the episode where they last left off. Meanwhile, she prepared some popcorn with butter. They both got settled on the couch and started watching the show.
Lucifer noticed that Isabella was peeking at him more often than usual, but he soon got too engrossed in the drama to pay much mind to it. The poor heroine's hopes and dreams had been shattered for the fifth time that season, how much more suffering would she have to go through? The demon thought, as his tears started flowing.
The moment Isabella had been waiting for finally arrived! She took the small glass she had placed on the coffee table and started sneakily collecting his tears, but not before she hugged him with her free arm. She was also crying slightly but tried to keep her eyes on the prize as she obtained the rare ingredient.
It took a while after they both calmed down for Lucifer to notice the suspicious glass filled with a dark blue liquid strangely reminiscent of his tears. "Umm, Isa? What's that about?" he asked, pointing at it.
"Oh, that? That's what I wanted your help with. Needed an angel's tears and I figured yours would do. I also figured it would be nice to spend some time together, killed two birds with one stone." she said matter-of-factly while munching on popcorn.
"Huh, how come you knew I would cry watching this?" he asked
She turned to face him and stared silently into his eyes for a moment. "Lucy, can you remember a single time we watched Hell-a-Novela together and you didn't cry?" she asked, somewhat stunned by his question.
She wasn't sure if that was the hint of a blush that appeared on his cheeks but she hoped it was. "Fine, fair enough, I can see why you chose this show. But you do know a fallen angel's tears aren't the same as an angel's tears, right?"
"Oh, I'm sure it'll be fineee. If they don't work as they are, they will work if they are purified or something" she said nonchalantly, her gaze returning to the TV.
"For some reason, I doubt that. You don't mind if I stick around some more to help you with your potion, right? I'd rather you didn't blow up because you didn't follow the recipe correctly"
"I don't appreciate your lack of faith in my skills but I certainly wouldn't mind the company." she said, then pecked him on the cheek.
"Let's get started then!"
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Thanks for reading if you got this far. I don't think I followed the prompt exactly as it was intended but we can afford some creative freedom, right?
Anyway, feel free to tell me anything you didn't like about this story, I really do want to get better at this | 12 | The recipe for your next potion calls of "tears of angels". You are not sure how to get those, maybe by first being incredibly good to attract an angel, then incredibly evil to make it cry. That's worth a try. | 30 |
The streets of the city were empty tonight. Word had traveled fast, the dead rising from a nearby graveyard tended to have that effect. Most of the city had already evacuated, the few who remained peered out at the street through cracks in boarded windows.
Everyone had seen enough zombie movies to know what to expect, and dozens of different zombie apocalypse plans had been put into action with surprising efficiency... Of course, there was a lot of overlap in these plans. The mall for instance was packed with people, grocery stores were emptied, and the roads headed north were a parking lot of traffic.
But the biggest problem, besides the rampant looting, was the apparent lack of apocalypse. My news station kept receiving strange reports that the dead weren't aggressive. Even the nutjobs who threw themselves at the hordes to commit suicide by zombie, had been politely rejected in their quests for death.
Which brings me to MY problem, or opportunity, as my boss had tried to sell it.
"The zombies are perfectly safe, they won't even attack you if you ASK them to! You can get the story of the century if you're the first one to interview them!" he said
Easy for him to say, he wasn't staring at the rotting cluster of undead slowly shambling down the street. Dear god the smell, that was one thing the movies left out, how badly the undead stank as they wandered towards me. The strangest part, besides the dead bodies wandering the street, is that they seemed to know how bad they stank, and were obviously covering what noses they still had.
I braced myself, swallowing my revulsion down and slapping my best reporter face on as I gestured to my obviously terrified cameraman to start rolling.
"Good evening everyone!" I said with forced joy "I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time to answer a few questions?"
The horde shuffled to a stop, a clear ripple moving through it as the ones in the back bumped into the ones in front, before they all squeezed close to see what was going on.
"ssssssssssssssss" wheezed a few zombies in the front, and I realized the futility in trying to talk with creatures whose vocal cords had clearly rotted away years ago. Then I heard a noise from the back "Make a damn path...." there was a clear sound of shoving as someone was trying to force their way through the crowd. "Yes you dammit. Well you can't talk to him now can you? I know it's not fair, but I didn't choose to die yesterday now did I?"
Finally the source of the voice appeared. He could have passed for alive, if a bit pale, and emaciated, and really stiff, okay maybe he couldn't pass for alive, but he was less rotten than the rest.
"Hello!" I shouted over the shuffling "Who am I speaking to?"
"Names Jerry" the clearly dead man replied "I'm the most recently dead in the area, so I'll have to speak for the rest, they're sorry about the smell by the way"
"uhh, it's okay" I stuttered, immediately losing my train of thought.
"No it's really not, we know this is really selfish of us and we're sorry." he apologized "but, this is important. We all voted on it and the majority decided we had to do this, even if it is incredibly rude."
"Well, our viewers would love to hear..." I got out before he cut me off with a loud stage whisper "*I* voted against it, we made our choices and should suffer them accordingly, but I was outvoted and this imposition wouldn't accomplish anything without *MY* help."
"Okay, well we'd love to hear what the vote was for" I replied.
"Yeah, yeah, but first I LOVE YOU MOM, Janet you were a bitch, and Alex I'm sorry about Janet, please forgive me" Jerry blurted out "Okay, sorry about that, but yeah, we voted to move"
"Well, obviously" I said, gesturing, to the clearly still mobile zombies standing behind Jerry. "But WHY are you all moving again?"
"No, I mean we voted to move. We want to be buried somewhere else. The city is really loud and we can't sleep. We're all walking out into the country and we'll bury each other there." Jerry explained. Finally.
"The city is too loud?" I asked, incredulously.
"Yeah, you know the phrase 'sleep like the dead'?" Jerry asked. "Turns out the dead are really light sleepers, which is helpful in a quiet graveyard when family comes to visit, but a nightmare in a loud city. Samuel here hasn't slept in 20 years"
I paused so the cameraman could turn to the mostly skeletal zombie Jerry was gesturing to. I never expected to see a zombie look sad, but damn, it was like a puppy from an ASPCA commercial.
"So you're all just looking for a quiet space, near enough to the city to be visited, but far away enough to sleep?" I asked, noting the nods in the crowd. "Then why have you been wandering the city in circles?"
"uh, we got lost. Not to impose, but could you lead us out? Please?" Jerry sheepishly asked.
So it turns out my boss was right, it was a career making job. Now I run the largest cemetery in the country, just outside city limits. People come from all over to be buried here, after all, I'm the only cemetery with a 5-star review from the residents. | 27 | The dead have risen! But, instead of causing the apocalypse, they’re all very polite and quite embarrassed about the whole situation. Finally, someone works up the courage to ask why they came back. | 118 |
“Will you quit raising skeletons!”
“Why? It’s the same as your raising spell.”
“I’ll have you know that my raise spell works on knocked out people only.”
“It does not.”
“Are you crazy? I revived you last week.”
“I was dead dead. I chilled with the gods, and newsflash, it’s not those gods that gave you your cleric powers. You revived me just before I could try to score with them! You’re just a white robed Necromancer.”
“I have morals and codes that a cleric lives by, it’s nothing like necromancy.”
“What good does that do when I’ve been ruining the sanctity of life my whole life and still got to unwind with the big men themselves. Well big men and big women gods.”
“The gods you hang out with are probably war gods or something of -”
“Actually, it’s all artsy gods. Like the god of love and there’s a god of parties, oh and a god of booze, god of mead, and -”
“Wow. Hedonistic gods whose personality is centered on booze…”
“Yeah. Maybe, you know, existence should be enjoyed. A pretty lady such as yourself shouldn’t be worried about the afterlife. You got so many years-”
“Hello? I’m not doing it for a spot in the afterlife. I’m doing it to help others.”
“Well, why don’t you help me out huh?”
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“Come on. Have you ever been with a guy? Or did you take that vow of chastity?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oooooh. Really?”
“I didn’t take any vows.”
“Then let’s go out for a drink sometime.”
“You’re not winning me over with a drink.”
“I’m not planning to.”
“Then what are you scheming then.”
“Woah. Woah. Pretty rude of you to stereotype me for being a Necromancer. We’re not all evil masterminds here.”
“You’re definitely not a mastermind.”
“You sure? I think I got you open to hanging out with me.”
“Did I even say I will go out with you?”
“No, but wouldn’t it be nice to get to know each other more?”
<>
<>
<>
Over in a tavern nearby, a rogue reunites with his party by pulling off his invisibility cloak. A captivated Barbarian and Wizard is waiting to hear news from the rouge, the Barbarian starts,
“So have you found out anything.”
“They are going to go out for drinks tonight.”
“God damn it.” The Wizard shouted.
“Looks like your high INT didn’t foresee this.” The Barbarian said and held out his hand. The Wizard shoots him a glare and she pulls out some money from her pouch and slaps it into the greedy warriors palms. The Barbarian and Wizard leave for the night, while the rogue stays behind with the Innkeeper. The keeper notices the smirk on the rogue’s face and questions,
“What’s got you so giddy today?”
“Everyone is hooking up with each other.”
“That must be good for your bets. The Barbarian and Wizard, and the Necromancer and Cleric. What’s your next prediction.”
“Innkeeper and Weaponsmith.”
“You’re not saying that I’m going to hook up with Alieah now, are you?”
“Here let me pour you a shot and tell you why.”
The innkeeper grabs a bottle and hands it to the rogue. The rogue holds a glass in his hand, his face is that of a showman’s. The glass slowly fills with liquid, while the bottle is draining from the thief’s hand. The Innkeeper is baffled to see this,
“How are you doing that without lifting the bottle?”
“I'll teach you sometime. Here.” The rogue slides the glass over.
“Thank the gods, I needed a drink since I lost the last bet.” He takes a swig and then asks, “so, how are you guessing that I will end up with Alieah?”
“You always had a thing for her back when I was the innkeeper.”
“I did not.”
“Oh yeah? When she’s with a different guy every few months, you’re in here drinking your sorrows away.”
“That’s still not going to make me waltz over to her and confess my feelings.”
“No. You just need a little help from my friend.”
“What are you saying?”
“You know how we all sort of thought that the Barbarian and Wizard was a thing?”
“You did. We all lost on that one.”
“Oh that’s right. Then I said it’s the Necromancer and the Cleric next. We got into that one, except the wizard.”
“Yes. Yes. I get it you’re psychic.”
“Oh no. I’m not psychic.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something I did to everyone before they hooked up.” The innkeeper’s face begins to redden and he looks at his hand.
“What, what am I feeling?”
“I made a stop at the alchemist today. It was easy profit, I already had the materials for him to make it.”
“What! What did you make?”
“A love potion.” | 151 | A cleric and a necromancer find themselves in an adventuring party together. Their conflicting views on life, death, and the undead, often lead them to quarrel. Despite their constant arguing, the two have developed a budding romance, an occurrence quite confusing to the rest of the party. | 535 |
###Lone Prisoner
It is the only step painted that alarming red, not to mimic the color of stop signs, instead being the origin that stop signs had copied. All sets of stairs had a red step if there were fourteen or more of them, and contractors went out of their way to ensure a floor didn't start at a thirteenth step.
It was all nonsense and today, Blake decided that he would prove it once and for all. He shook his head as he watched the other kids cautiously step over it and jeer at others as they approached it. *They're all imbeciles,* Blake thinks. *I'll show them.*
He marches up the steps with a backpack full of incomplete homework and a face full of snark. His foot approaches the 13th step, and he slams it down as growing expressions of horror surround him. He wasn't expecting anything to happen, especially anything immediate so his eyes widen when a shockwave ripples out away from his footfall.
Time freezes as the ripples spread outward like a stone striking the surface of an invisible surface of water. With everything around him frozen in place, the 13th step becomes an open door downward, and Blake's center of gravity is shifted forward, causing him to tumble through it.
His arms pinwheel and he screams as he falls over, but his falling soon transitions into a float like a leaf becoming detached from a branch. He glides lazily in a slow spiral, a light shining from above him and a featureless abyss surrounding him.
He approaches a round symbol on a floor and rights himself, setting his feet down in the circle. The light above him is illuminating the circle and a few feet beyond. The surrounding abyss is no longer featureless as a deep-blue horizon glows at an unknowable distance.
Blake notices two things immediately. The first is the decaying remains of a skeleton in the circle next to him. The second is a figure standing between him and that blue horizon. He can't see much more than a vague outline but it many times larger than him with its yellow eyes floating in the darkness.
"Do not be afraid, little boy," says the creature, its mouth opening and displaying white fangs affixed to the darkness. The shape of the mouth gives an impression of a great wolf.
Blake stands taller and grips his bag straps, pulling the backpack tighter against him. "What are you," he asks.
"I'm a prisoner, of course. Wrongfully, locked away by my cruel masters."
"But what did you do to get locked away?"
"Nothing, unless you count being the largest wolf a crime. I wasn't locked away for anything I did. I was locked up for what I might do! I just hate being punished for something that hasn't even happened. How is that fair?" The wolf growls, baring its teeth as it looks away from Blake.
"Well, that's not right," Blake replies.
The yellow eyes snap back to Blake. "I'm glad you agree, because you can fix this grave injustice!"
Blake turns back to look down at the skeleton next to him. "What happened to this person," he asks, gesturing down to it.
"Oh, they were awful, no better than the masters that locked me away here. Instead of releasing me and allowing us both to get out of here, I had to sit here and watch them waste away, trapped and slowly dying from thirst."
"That's terrible," Blake agrees, while looking at the yellow eyes that move up in down in a head nod. "While how do I get you--*us* out of here?"
"You just have to break one of the lines on the seal around you."
Blake kneels and looks over the design. There is an encompassing white circle with intricate swirling patterns across its center. "What do I do?"
"Just scratch out any part of the lines," the wolf replies eagerly.
Blake reaches towards the outer rings and scrubs away a section, causing a break in the line. "Like this?" he asks, looking back up to the wolf.
"Yes, perfect," the wolf replies. His eyes narrow and his stature quickly shrinks down to the same height as Blake. The eyes are more normal sized now but still glow a dirty yellow and begin moving towards the light.
"What's your name?" Blake asks.
"Well, a long time ago, they called me Fenrir, but I don't think that's necessary now." A shoe steps into the light, then a kid with a backpack walks into the circle.
Blake's eyes grow wide as he stares at the mirror image of himself, the only difference being the yellow eyes, a contrast to his blue. "Why do you--" Blake starts before being shoved out into the shadow.
Fenrir grabs a small piece of bone and lays it over the broken line before turning back to see Blake's glowing blue eyes floating in the shadows.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Blake demands. He tries to step back into the circle but the light burns and smoke peels away from his form. He watches with horror as Fenrir flies back up like Peter Pan with outstretched arms and legs.
Not-Blake steps up to the 14th step as the other students look at him in horror. He just narrows his yellow eyes at them, and they scatter. He pulls open the door and steps into school.
---
**This prompt was also a combination of this WP:**
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ye3374/wp_heaven_and_hell_had_united_forces_only_once_to/ | 47 | The 13th step in your school is known to be unlucky. Everybody purposely steps over it. Everybody believes it, except you. One day you step on the 13th step to prove it isn't really unlucky. However, you weren't ready for the consequences. | 163 |
Since time immemorial have there been three levels of existence. The first is the formation of all that is good. Its denizens were born from light, their will the mightiest of all. In their presence, deceit is revealed, truth stands strong, and bonds are strengthened.
Their counterpart came from the darkest depths of evil. Its land is twisted and burned. Vile creatures stalk it, terrorising any who venture near. Their bodies are the strongest of all that live. They delight in pain and chaos, twisting words to break relationships apart.
In between these two extremes lies a midground. It grew from the essence of both, influenced by their differing values. In this was birthed the first soul, the first truly free being. It gave rise to others, those who would live and die. Their actions, and those of the world around them linked them close to one or other of the levels. When their bodies passed, so too would they pass to the level that resonated with them most of all.
These souls empowered each other level. The heavens grew brighter, as its denizens threw lavish attention to the souls. The hells craved the feeling of control over them. They twisted and broke those cursed to their realm, birthing more monstrous beings.
The first soul noticed this. In its unique position, it could move between the other realms freely. It saw the lush fields of the heavens, with ever singing birds and eternal fruit bearing trees. It experienced the savage landscape of hell, with rivers of molten rock and metal. And it saw both as places worth conquering.
It made an army of souls, ones to wage war on both. With its unique position it could simply grow new soldiers, its level unable to sustain any other beings for a long time. In turn, the campaigns harmed both heaven and hell, brutally cutting them down whilst it's power grew. It tore the light and dark, using shreds to empower itself further.
In a desperate ploy, heaven and hell set aside their eternal feud. They formed a united front, catching the First Soul off guard. Its armies were routed, itself captured. But in its uniqueness it could not be killed.
A prison was made for it. Hell formed an infinitly large shifting labyrinth, filled with traps to contain it. Heaven created an impenetrable barrier, one that nothing but pure good could ever cross. The entrance was forgotten, all traces of the First Soul removed from existence. With its army lost, the truce fell, hell and heaven warring again.
Millennia later, a newly formed devil explored the deepest recesses of reality. It came across an ancient door, a clear impossibility in its view. All of history was recorded, branded into its brain upon creation. And yet there was nothing about a clearly crafted door.
A young angel came upon the devil in its own exploration. But in place of battle, they chose to examine the door together. To their surprise, they found the lock required both an infernal and a celestial touch. Together they opened it, curiosity outweighing caution.
As it opened, the barrier blazed before them. The angel touched it, feeling its power. It could tell it was containing something. But it was archaic, and easily dispelled with the changes since its creation. Beyond it, they saw the ever shifting labyrinth.
As the devil approached it, the labyrinth reacted. It formed a straight line, a figure appearing at its end. It walked towards them, smiling almost kindly. They let it approach, burning with questions. It came into arms reach, moving with a flash and grasping their throats.
They struggled against the First Soul's grasp, its smile turning into a mocking sneer.
"Finally, free after so long. Thank you. I will be sure to pass on your regards."
It slowly crushed their essence out, feeding on the shreds that remained. It had failed in its misson once before. It would not do so again. All would fall under its rule. | 21 | Heaven and hell had united forces only once to seal away the most dangerous person that ever existed,but by accident,that person has just been released | 74 |
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