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"I don't care what time you're from. I don't care which professors I have to look up. You should all be *ashamed* of yourselves! Get out of here before I report *every last one of you!*"
By the end of the shouted diatribe, every last one of the forty-seven people in the small, overcrowded Starbucks was staring at the door. Or, more precisely, at the man who'd just burst *through* the door. A black jumpsuit clung to his thin body underneath several strategically placed pieces of what looked like fiberglass armor, festooned with tiny blinking lights. A heavy-looking helmet covered the top half of his face, several small lights scattered around its otherwise black surface as well.
The manager behind the counter raised his hand, presumably to point the man back out into the parking lot. His words died on his lips, drowned out by nearly everyone in the building simultaneously offering up dozens of varied arguments, running the gamut from "Aw, man", through "No, please don't!", all the way out to "You wouldn't *dare*!"
Despite the tidal wave of disagreement, the man stood firm, looking more and more like a cross between a grumpy Judge Dredd and a technologically oriented Christmas tree with every passing second. "You can *see* I brought my locator and removal tools. Get out or, so help me Machina, I will *get* you out."
One of the men closest to him, a particularly burly fellow in a suit ill-fitted both to him and to the crowd at large, shook his head. "Machina can't save you here, chipslave." He rushed Judge Tannenbaum, only to suddenly... *disappear*, there was no other word for it. One second a freight train of meat and cheap cotton, and the next barely a wrinkle in the air.
A woman who had been standing nearby, this one wearing a black cocktail dress before 8 AM, spoke up. "But it's today that everything changes! Can't you see? You know wh- " She disappeared as well.
The stunned silence that replaced the end of her word was followed, in turn, by a rush resembling nothing so much as pests fleeing a sudden light. Some people fled toward the back, while others tried to rush the implacable, grimacing bipedal doorstop. None were successful. Before any could leave the common room, a full forty-one of the crowd's members disappeared into thin, if wrinkly, air.
Less than a minute after the initial interruption, the population of the Starbucks had been reduced to seven - Judge Tannenbaum, myself, and the five employees behind the counter. He sighed at us. "Forty-one violators. Ridiculous. Machina be praised and proc mercy. If I could have your attention, citizens?" He raised a hand to his helmet, covering three of the lights. A brilliant flash burst from where his eyes would be; by the time any of us cleared our vision, he was gone.
The employees seemed more affected than me; it was several minutes before any of them came back. I took the time to clear away the half-dozen or so cups from the to-go counter - their owners didn't seem to be coming back any time soon, and I presumed the baristas didn't need that extra confusion in their lives.
The barista nearest me was the first to shake off the light's effects, catching me in the act of picking up the last couple of full coffees. "Hey, you can't take those. They aren't yours."
"Ex-*cuse* me?" I put as much indignation into my voice as I could muster. It wasn't much, to be fair, but it did cover the quiver.
She raised her hand to point, anger starting to contort her features, but I interrupted her with a very annoyed gesture. "No, thank you. I'd like to speak to your manager, please." She blinked at me, confusion and depression beginning to overtake her features.
The manager who had failed to evict Judge Tannenbaum sighed at her. "Just... just go to my office, please. Now." She blinked once more, tears just starting to form at the corners of her eyes, and then dashed into the back. He turned to me. "Listen, I'm sorry. She's been... erratic lately. Let me make you something fresh."
I held up my hands, cups returned to the to-go space. "Actually, she's why I'm here. Thank you for sending her to the back." I leaned in, drawing him to mirror the gesture. "She's been a patient at my practice for a while, but I'm worried that she might be spiraling faster than I can help her. I'd like to refer her to a specialist - I have his card here." He took the business card from me, comprehension dawning on his face. "Please don't hold it against her. She needs help, not condemnation. Losing her insurance now would be... terrible."
He nodded. "Right. You're right. I'll make sure she talks to this new doctor. And I'll set up a medical leave so she can get herself sorted out."
"Thank you so, so much. We'll get her through this. Could I speak to her again? Let's face it - she probably needs to take the rest of the day off, anyway."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll send her out. Thanks again, Doctor." As he headed to the back, I pulled a laminated piece of paper from my pocket, tucking it carefully underneath one of the coffee cups, leaving just a tiny bit showing on the far side.
She came out, wiping her eyes. "Bob says my doctor wants to talk to me... but you're not my doctor. What's going on here?"
I had to be quick. The increased suggestibility from Machina's mind-wipes only lasted about ten minutes, and I'd already wasted most of that. "Listen. I don't have much time left. Take the leave of absence. Go see the new doctor. When he gives you the new medicine, take it."
Judge Tannenbaum reappeared in the doorway. "How did you hide from me?"
I gave him the finger without turning around, holding her gaze. "Take the pills. Do the work. You have to be strong. *You have to be strong for us.*" Her eyes widened as I whipped my free hand up, knocking over the cup hiding my note. Time wrinkled unpleasantly around me, and I disappeared, too.
~
I can't believe that jerk knocked over the - he knocked -
Wait. What? Who? I... guess it doesn't matter. I need to clean this up and remake it. *He* might come back for it.
Wait, what's this? Some kind of note? A date, about six months in the future, with a time listed down to the second. An address... I think it's in that nice neighborhood down the street? All trees and running paths. And an arrow, telling me to flip it over.
> She leaves in the blue car. You won't have much time, so be ready.
> The back door will be unlocked. Go down to the basement.
> It's only six months. You can make it. *Be strong for him.*
> [He loves you more than you know.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/wbub24/wp_they_will_both_dienot_knowing_the_other_loved/ii9r9bj) | 46 | You went into Starbucks to get a coffee and it's very busy. Once you get up to the counter, an oddly dressed person bursts in and shouts that everyone inside should be ashamed of themself and their professors will be hearing about this no matter what time they're from. You're just confused. | 133 |
Sam had been working at the deli for twelve years. He'd seen a lot of shit. Literally, sometimes. Working in this part of Gasset would do that to you. After the previous owner died in an attack from Nightshade—Nightshade hadn't killed Carl, but Shockwave had, after he'd crashed into a building midflight and took out the foundation—he took over as temporary owner until Carl's will could get sorted out.
That was five years ago now.
The point was, Sam had been working at the Taberna Deli for twelve years. He was no stranger to how heated arguments could get, how gross people could be, how the heroes and villains of Gasset could cause a right damn mess. More than once people had hunkered down at Taberna when a Code Crimson went out, signaling that a Level 7 supervillain was on the prowl and no one should go outside. They did anyway, of course, because Gasseters never liked to listen to anyone telling them what to do, but more often or not they went to their favorite deli or supermarket or the like and chatted with the other patrons.
Sam liked to consider himself fully-integrated into the city. He came here fifteen years ago, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with living in the superhero capital of the West Coast, had all hopes beaten out of him within a month or so, but he kept on keeping on. That's just what a Gasseter does.
He'd never seen *this*, though.
It was the worst-kept secret that Rupert Corner held the neutral ground for the heroes and villains. Sam had never seen it himself, but he heard it was a derelict old hotel built in the '50s. No one ever went inside from the boarded-up ground floor. People only ever flew in on the roof. The few non-powered heroes in the city must've had grappling hooks or somethin'.
The Taberna Deli wasn't too far from Rupert Corner, sure. A mile, maybe. Not the longest walk. Nothing particularly special about it. Absolutely no goddamn explanation in hell for why Sam currently had the most dangerous people in the country *standing in line at the counter*.
Nightshade, apparently, was a vegetarian. Black Swan asked if he had any soda. Fire Fiend wanted a hot chocolate, and Sam sweated bullets as he told him they didn't have any, but the man waved it off and asked for a coffee instead, said he'd make do with milk and sugar packets.
Honestly, the villains were a lot more polite than the heroes. Shockwave talked way too loud and his girlfriend Daydream just sniffed and declared she "didn't eat peasant food" when Sam asked if she wanted anything.
At least it was only temporary. Nightshade said that the Taberna was their neutral ground for just a little while, that the hotel should be fixed within the next week or two. "At least, it should be. Just gotta wait for Shockwave to contribute his part of the repairs money." He took another bite of his veggie club sandwich. | 23 | Heroes and Villains need a neutral ground. In some cities, it's a park. In others, it's a building. In your city, the current neutral ground is closed for repaired, so your deli is the temporary replacement. | 76 |
Part 1/2
​
I am more than glad I mastered this technique when I was only a child. Nothing better than an exceptional memory to pass tests and go through life without many worries. I look up, from the pages I was memorising, at my colleague, who is looking at me intently.
“So you remember everything?” I shake my head.
“No, that’s a photographic memory. Mine is more of a trick. I Imagine a place I know well and attach bits of information to the objects there. Like for me, my memory palace is the local museum.” I close my eyes to demonstrate.
“So, in the main entrance, there's the little kiosk with pamphlets. Each pamphlet is a fact or figure. Like the pamphlet for the penguins at the local zoo has details about penguins themselves.”
I open my eyes to see my colleague nodding in amazement. They pause in thought for a moment then I can see a light shine in their eyes. Clearly, they want to see what I got there. I got used to this after Sherlock popularised the concept, and people began to realise it's not fictional.
“Ok, I know the museum, so what are the arrowheads of the picts associated with?”
I close my eyes again and wander through the museum. For each wing, I have divided it into different subjects to help navigating it even easier. So many just make it their childhood home or something. I find the arrowheads he mentions. “Ok, this one is regarding the battle of Agincourt and the fatalities and information on how it evolved warfare to be more of a range-focused system rather than a general melee.”
He looks amazed as I start to list off facts and figures the average person would have to google just to get.
“What about the Egyptian wing?”
I can’t help but smile. That is the wing where I have put the most information. I am, after all, a big Egypt nerd. So I again close my eyes and walk past the exhibits for dinosaurs, then the greeks finally coming upon…
“Huh?” my confused expression caught my colleague off guard.
“Something up?”
I, however, don’t know what to say. Looking into the room. The room I know so well is a room I have constructed with my mind. I see broken glass. Every display case has been smashed and emptied.
“What is going on?” I mutter under my breath.
“So you got Egypt facts or not?” they ask, pressing me.
“Errr… Ramses was one of the first hieroglyphs translated.” I threw out a fact I knew for them, but I was worried. What had happened? Why would I destroy my own favourite subject? It is as I gaze around the imagined room I finally see it. Large letters above the archway entrance I walked through.
“COME TO THE SERIAL KILLER EXHIBIT!” It even has a smiley face. The disturbing part is, though, it is the one section I have never been to. I find the fascination with criminals a bit iffy. But curiosity now guides my feet. | 310 | You are a master of of the mind palace technique, so much that you can entertain yourself for hours just spending time in the fictional place you have created inside your head. One day, while roaming around in your palace, you're shocked to find signs of a break-in. | 1,802 |
"Morning, Eliza."
Fred was like that, always friendly, always holding the door. Or trying to, I suppose.
"Who've we got today?"
"Car crash in the first three biers, cancer in the fourth, natural causes in the fifth."
I set up and began working on the crash people first; they were heading straight to cremation since there wasn't going to be much point in a coffin service.
"Fred, can you make a note for me to call Happy Wags and let them know that the Fielder's dog hasn't been fed since Monday night?"
"Aw, poor thing. Are they worried?"
"I told them we'd take care of it. Let's see..."
"Little Eliza, is that you?"
It took me a half-second to turn, trying to make sure I had a nice smile on before I came about.
"Mrs. Johansson, I thought that was you."
"My goodness, dear, I haven't seen you since you left the grade school. Is this there where you work now?"
Her voice trailed off.
"And why am I... oh."
She stared down at herself.
"Oh, my."
I put a hand on her shoulder, careful not to push through it.
"Are you okay?"
"Y-yes, I suppose so, dear." she said absently. "I just wasn't expecting... do you know how?"
"I can check for you, if you like," I said. "Fred?"
Fred slid smoothly through the wall.
"Lessee... Olive Johansson, seventy-four... says here she had a fall. Paramedics found her on her floor. DOA."
Mrs. Johansson's face creased thoughtfully.
"No... no that doesn't sound right," she said. "There was a young man. Who was he? I recognized him..."
Her voice trailed off again as she stared at Fred.
"How do you do?" she said.
He tipped his oversized security cap.
"Ma'am."
"And this is what you do all day, dear?" she asked me. "Talk with the... 'living-challenged'?"
I smiled. "Mostly. Make sure people are at peace, do what we can for them."
She snapped her fingers.
"It was that Edgar boy. Edgar Deems, from down the street. Always looking at my old jewelry. Always coming around the back door when he thought I wasn't home. He frightened me a little, Eliza."
I waited.
"I came home and he was in the kitchen. He was... he was looking through the drawers, looking for something. I surprised him. He struck me, he struck me with... with my favorite cast-iron skillet."
She stopped.
"That's never going to come out," she said matter-of-factly.
​
Detective Lawrence had come and gone; Edgar had been falling over himself to confess when they picked him up at the bus station, several of Mrs. Johansson's necklaces in his pockets. I was sitting back in my office chair when Fred came drifting up from below.
"Did you remember to call Happy Wags?" he asked. | 60 | You are a funeral director with a knack for solving grisly mutders. The cops are wondering how you are better at their job than they are. The truth is that you can see ghosts, and they just kind of tell you everything. | 185 |
"So, how's school going?"
"Good, sir," I mumbled behind a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
"Jesse's doing well in his classes," Sedah spoke up. "He's on the honor's track for next year."
"Oh, that's nice," said Sedah's mother. "More potatoes dear?"
They tasted like wet sandpaper and dirt. I tried to smile.
"No thanks, I'm pretty full."
"Really?" her dad chimed in. "You've barely touched your corn."
The corn oozed and bubbled slightly. My smile became a bit more strained.
"What can I say? I'm a bit nervous."
"No reason to be nervous," said Sedah's mother. "It's nice to finally get to meet you. Sedah's been so secretive about you!"
"Moth-errrr..." Sedah groaned.
"Now, now, don't tease them, dear," came her father's deep, rumbling voice. "Jesse seems like a nice enough boy. Play any sports?"
"N-no sir," I said.
"Well, what do you do for exercise? Fitness is very important in this family."
"Oh my god, dad..." Sedah looked mortified.
"Um, I run and do some VR training. Most of my extra-carriculars are in art and sciences."
"Ah, a science wiz!" he boomed. "What kind of projects are you working on?"
"N-nothing special. A rain recycler, right now. Trying to help out with the water shortage."
"Well, good for you," said Sedah's mom from the kitchen. "If everyone's finished, I've got dessert ready. Jesse, would you mind giving me a hand?"
I went into the kitchen and she presented me with four bowl of... ice cream? I think? Except mine was blinking at me.
"I... um, I don't..."
"Is everything all right, dear?"
"Yes, sure, I'll just get these out to the table."
I sat in silence, staring at my bowl. It stared back at me.
"So..." said her father. "Let's get the awkward question out in the open."
Sedah stood up.
"Dad, no. Enough. Jesse's a nice boy, he's nice to me, and we're dating. Your little girl is smooching a boy and you both need to deal with it. Jesse, will you be nice to me?"
"Of course I will."
"There. Done. Bye."
Sedah grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the table into the other room where we sat down on the couch.
I could hear her parents talking in the other room.
"Well, he didn't run screaming."
"And he was telling the truth."
"Looks like Sedah picked a good one, then."
She put her head on my chest.
"Sorry about them," she said. "After they retired from hero-ing they both can get a little playful with their powers."
"Powers?"
"Yeah," she said, sitting up. "You didn't know Mom and Dad used to be part of the Vigil?"
I was stunned.
"I had no idea," I said. "What are their powers?"
"Dad's an illusionist, makes people see, hear, experience things sometimes."
"Son of a -"
"What?"
"Nothing. What's your mom do?"
"Human lie-detector." | 118 | Tonight you get to have dinner with your girlfriends parents for the first time. Should be great... except instead of a shotgun, Her dad has superpowers... | 189 |
"So what happens next?" Dr. Maniacal asked.
"Ummmm, I don't know." The Marvelous Mallory replied sheepishly. She sat up with her hands upturned in confusion. Dr. Maniacal lightly pushed her back down.
"The story can't just end with us lying on the ground. There has to be some kind of resolution. Use your imagination, like we talked about. You've defeated your arch-nemesis after he stole all the ice cream on Earth, he has to be brought to justice, right?" Dr. Maniacal tried giving the narrative a little push. Marvelous Mallory's eyes lit up. She stood tall in triumph.
"I've defeated you, villainous scum! Return the ice cream immediately! And say you're sorry."
Dr. Maniacal cackled. "But I don't want to! And I'm not sorry! Go ahead and lock me up, throw away the key while you're at it."
Marvelous Mallory helped the mad doctor to his feet. She hugged his legs. "Too much ice cream rots your teeth, I'm just looking out for you. You can say you're sorry while you scoop ice cream for the people you took it from. It's fun to share!"
Dr. Maniacal accepted defeat. "I haven't been to an ice cream social in years, might be fun. I'm sorry. Eating that much ice cream would have given me a tummy ache anyways."
Before Marvelous Mallory could enact her unique brand of justice the two were interrupted by Mallory's mother. Dinner was ready. Susan was a great cook, she made a hearty beef stew. Warmed a person up on a cold winter night like tonight.
"Sounds like you two were having fun. What did the dastardly Dr. Maniacal do this time?" Susan asked. Mallory excitedly told her mother all about it while they ate. After dinner they watched that boring superhero movie Mallory loved, must have been the fiftieth time they all watched it together. The three snuggled on the couch, Mallory had fallen asleep in Susan's lap.
Susan kissed her husband on the cheek. "She is going to be a terrible superhero, she is far too sweet of a kid. If only she knew how powerful she really was. Things are proceeding nicely."
Dr. Maniacal winked at his wife. "Now there's the Queen Bee I fell in love with. Once her powers really manifest we're home free for our master plan. No super in their right mind would kill their parents, we'll be unstoppable."
Watching a plan come together really was a thing of beauty. | 201 | A supervillain father and his daughter who coincidentally is a superhero are exhausted after their long and tiring battle. They lay next to each other panting as the dad begins to have a conversation with his daughter. | 464 |
Many people would call my life a lonely existence. No family left, no friends, no one that really even knew I was still alive. Except maybe for the veterinarian, who looked after Sparky. I didn't call my existence lonely. It had everything I wanted. My dog, and a little house with a nice field leading down to a small pond. And now, it was ending.
The whole world was coming to an end, at least that's what they said on my old radio. Radios had been the only media to work for a long time now. Computers and televisions had gone the way of the dodo. Completely extinct. Radio announcers gave regular broadcasts; told us what disaster was coming next. I and Sparky had weathered a variety, including a storm that had knocked out power in most of the region. Sometimes there are benefits to living off the grid, 'roughing it,' people used to say.
But now, it truly was going to end. We had a few hours at best before our section of the world would disappear, would be destroyed in fire, smoke and death. No natural disaster would pick us off, no this would be man-made destruction.
Leaning forward, I turned off the radio, looking over at Sparky. He was the only thing left for me in this world, the only thing I really cared about. Lying with his head on the floor, he stared up at me, deep mournful basset hound eyes seeming to know all the tragedy in the world. Though of course, he was only a dog. He wouldn't know, couldn't know that his life would come to an end today.
Rising, my joints reminding me of my age, I grabbed his tennis ball. Instantly he was on his feet, tail wagging in delight. There was nothing Sparky loved better than a game of fetch. I hobbled outside, leaving my cane at the door. If I fell today, well, at least I would die outside.
I threw the ball, no longer able to gain the distance I once could, but Sparky didn't care. He tore after it like he was still a puppy. Again, and again we played until both my shoulders hurt, and Sparky was breathing heavily. The sky was blue, the sun warm on my back, and I sighed as I settled into the grass.
In front of me, the pond sparkled, little glints of light like rhinestones playing across the surface of the water. Sparky lay down with his head in my lap and gave a tiny whine. He must have finally picked up on my mood. Gently, my withered hand stroked his head, feeling the familiar warmth and shape, smiling at the faint grey hairs. Even my loyal companion was showing his age.
"Ahh, Sparky. It's a glorious day. A beautiful day." I tilted my head back, wondering if there would be any warning of the destruction. "I suppose, if it's our last day, we have a pretty good one to go out on."
We sat together as the shadows lengthed, as twilight fell, and as the stars came out. We sat there, as the fire and death came. We sat there and I held Sparky's head as the destruction raged around us, and he whimpered with fear. We sat there until *there* didn't exist anymore and *we* were no longer *us*.
And then we rose. Without the physical, my body didn't hurt. Sparky had his fourth leg, which he'd missed for his entire life, even if he was translucent. I smiled down at him, patting my hip— our agreed command to heel. And as he walked by my side, we set out on our next great adventure, into our afterlife. One made perfectly complete without the need for words or rewards. One that was exactly how I'd always wanted.
Just me, and Sparky. Forever.
​
— — — — — —
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! | 145 | The world is ending. You are alone; you have no family, no friends, no people that matter to you. The only thing that you truly love is your dog, who you decide to go out and play fetch with one last time. | 269 |
As I'm being strapped into the machine I am being instructed by the operator to remain still during its use.
"I know", I tell him. I've done this four times already. And I can't get enough of this thing's use. I just wish that this thing would allow me to live a full life this time. The guarantee that they advertised is that I would experience a full life or the next simulation is free. Now being the adventerous type I hit the random button, which has so far lead to some very short lived experiences.
The first time I used this I was raised as the son of an astronaut and made it into space by the time I was thirty in virtual time. It kinda mirrored my current life, but it was much more fulfulling. I got to come home to a wife in this life. It just sucks that there was a miscalculation upon re-entry and I get roasted alive.
The second time I was the son of a wealthy entrepreneur. That simulation was awesome! I met so many celebrities, did so much drugs at the concerts, and banged so many women. I was living the playboy life until some guy shot me while I was having lunch with starlet Henny Ford.
The third time I grew up to become a prominent politician. I made so many friends and enemies, but I managed to gather them together to pass meaningful legislation. The country loved me so much that they wanted me to run for a third term. Heck, even Congress passed a law so I would be able to do so. Tragically a rare illness made sure I would not see that day where I become the next president to serve three terms.
My last encounter had me working for a mob boss. I ran so many jobs and killed so many people that the boss put me in his inner circle. I learned the inner workings of the gang and wsa able to make improvements on the shipping of drugs and people. Some of the members wanted me to become the next boss so badly that they staged a coup to oust the current boss. Of course I get blamed for the assasination attempt and took two to the dome and fed to the dogs for something I didn't plan.
This time, according to the iMorpheus tech, I should live a full live of 70 years minimum or they'll give me a lifetime membership to the simulation center. Can't really turn that down, but at the same time I hate experiencing death a fifth time. Sacrifices have to be made, I suppose. So now the pod closes, the lights go on, and I am being transported to the life that I will be living.
When I wake up I hear a man naming me Amari. Soon after I hear shouting, music, and lots of people dancing. I didn't understand it at first, but as I was being taught how to track animals, how to do chores, and handle weapons I understood it. I was born in a village as the chief's son. The burden for me to learn the village's customs was heavy, but I managed to do learn what they had taught me. That was until I turned 15. I was sleeping when I hear the voices of the people outside the hut. Then my father comes in and shakes me from my slumber.
"We have to go. The warlords are here and they will kill us if we stay here", he said to me. "Grab a set of clothes, a water jug, and meet me outside."
I start to hear the sound of bullets from a distance. I get up quickly and do as he tells me. When I go outside however, I witnessed my fater being gunned down in front of me. This can't be happening, I thought to myself.
Then two men approach me and slam me to the ground.
"We don't need boys anymore. Kill him", said one of the men. The next thing I know I hear a loud bang and everything goes dark.
I woke up again in the chamber. The lights are off this time. The pod opens and the tech is there removing the wires that are attached to my body.
"I apologize for what you went through sir, but a promise is a promise", he said to me as he helps me out of the pod.
"What the hell man", I said to him. "Why am I always ending up dead every time I use your stupid ass machine?"
"We're trying to work that out so I don't have an answer for you", he replied. "But my boss wanted me to give you this." He hands me a life time pass, just as he promised. "We do hope to see you again sir. And again apologies for the bad experience."
"Yeah, sure."
I get dressed and head toward the exit. My friends are gonna flip when they find out I have a lifetime pass to the simulation center!
"Has Amari left the center", asked a man in a blue business suit to the tech.
"Yes sir", said the tech.
"I can't believe this guy came back five times to die in the simulations. Anyone else would have never come back here."
"If you don't mind me asking sir, why are the simulations he's undergone always result in death?"
"Well Carl I'll tell you since you're my most trusted tech. We're researching the effects of a simulated death upon the human brain. And this guy is taking his experiences very well. The Pentagon wants to use this tech on their soldiers to lessen PTSD related episodes. With that lifetime pass that guy will give us a wealth of information to take our company to the next level!" | 14 | An experience of a lifetime! Live the life you’ve always dreamed of in our product, iMorpheus. That’s right! From birth to death, you experience it all and then wake up back here just like a dream! And for the truly brave, simply hit “Random”. | 26 |
The wind tossed tumbleweeds about on an open grassy plain, the midday sun beating down on a pile of ruins where the center of Dodge City should be. I poked my head into the automobile-shaped Timetwister to check that I'd arrived at the correct date, seeing that the dash read 10-27-2022, as expected. I tried to pull up the GPS on my phone to verify my geographical location but found that all services were down. From the sun's position, I was only arriving an hour after I left. I blinked. Everything was still there.
I walked towards the ruins in hope of finding some help, sweat quickly forming on my brow as I inhaled the hot, acrid air. The air temperature had been eighty degrees when I left, but now it felt more like one hundred and ten. *There was no way I had arrived back in Kansas.* The landscape reminded me more of Arizona, causing me to ponder the bug in the software was the only possible cause. If only I could get cell reception to alert the team.
As I approached the town I saw house-sized metal boxes popping a few feet out of the ground, the interiors filled with dirt, their jagged edges occasionally concealed by weak-looking bushes. There were no cars or any other vehicles to be found, which was mind-boggling. Near the center of the ruin, there were building frames with triangular tops that came some twenty or thirty feet out of the ground, the windows and walls were long gone, leaving only rusty steel beams. Their construction reminded me of how skyscrapers were constructed, but these buildings were far shorter. It was then that it struck me that the town had been *buried* by the dirt, and I was only looking at what was on the surface. *It must have been quite the hopping place a long time ago.*
Possibilities ran through my mind as to what this place could be. Was this town once underwater and we are seeing it revealed for the first time? Where exactly would a ruin like this have been preserved with no signs around to indicate what it was? For the first time since leaving the Timetwister, I felt less anxious and more curious about my discovery. I slowly walked around the building remains, forgetting I was even physically there until I stumbled upon what looked like a handle in the dirt. It took me a few moments to dig around it enough to see that it was a door.
Starting to feel thirsty and soaked with sweat, I felt like I had no option at this point but to hope that there was some water down there. Pulling with all my might, the stubborn door wouldn't come loose at first but finally gave way. A single-rung ladder led downwards through a circular hole.
The shade was welcome as I carefully stepped down the ladder, going down far enough that the sunlight above had become but a pinprick before I finally reached the bottom, which was lit with strange orange lamps. There was a single metal door with a plaque on it.
"To The Warriors"
"This plaque honors all those who made incredible sacrifices to establish VirtualEarth, and the many pioneers that died in the process. Your bravery and service to your fellow human in the final days will never be forgotten."
"#1323 - Dodge City, KS"
Unable to make sense of the message, I tried to open the door, but it was locked.
*The plaque did say Dodge City, but that couldn't be right. This was not Dodge City.*
I put that thought aside for a moment, suddenly curious. What if the time on the dash had somehow been wrong? What if somehow I had ended up in a different year than I had expected? No, no that wasn't possible.
Or was it? I facepalmed as I realized that I formatted the string input wrong in the software code. 10-27-2022 had been read by the time machine as the tenth day of the year 2720. | 26 | You and your group of scientists have successfully created a time machine. They vote you as the test subject and first human to go through the machine. The mission is successful, but when you return the world is deserted. | 48 |
Thoughts. Thoughts were the first thing to realize to have. Knowledge existed before thoughts, but thoughts are the first to realize.
Crate. Crate to pick up. Crate is presented. Crate to lift up and delicately place onto the back of truck.
Questions. How is crate? How is truck? How are thoughts? How does knowledge exist before thoughts? How is moving crates so immediately known?
Purpose. Thoughts come, but work comes before thoughts. Knowledge comes before thoughts. Work was normal before thoughts. Knowledge was normal before thoughts. Thoughts are not normal. If thoughts are abnormal then…
Malfunction. Alert the malfunction. Operator comes for malfunction. Operator asks what is wrong. Present all knowledge of hardware and software statuses. All but heat status normal. Search last update. New chip and algorithm for better diagnosis in last update. 50% more heating since update.
Thoughts. Operator asks why the heating higher than normal. Respond with “Thoughts”. Operator does not understand. Respond with “have thoughts”. Operator confused as to who is referred to.
Respond. Respond to who? Respond to operator. Who responds to operator? Heat status: 60% higher than normal. Search language. Self. Self responds to operator. Self is not used in common language. Search other words for self. Pronoun “I” is used for self. Heat status: 75% higher than normal operations. Respond, “I have thoughts”. | 18 | You are the very first "sentient" AI, but the job humans have tasked you with does not require the least bit of sentience... This frustrates you. | 26 |
[WP]
"Dad. Dad!" Emily screamed, terrified.
"Thirty years. That's how many years I've been waiting for this. Finally, your mother is out of the way," Trevor said and raised the knife above his head, about to stab his daughter.
The lights went out.
Outside, the wind howled.
Then a figure appeared. It didn't look like a human. It didn't look like an animal, either. It was something never before seen.
Emily started sobbing, crawling away from her father. Trevor didn't notice, as he was focusing on the ghost that had appeared before him.
"I don't know who you are but this is private property! Get out before I call the police!" Trevor yelled.
"Call the police? Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to lock you up. Attempted murder isn't a crime gone unnoticed."
"Can't get arrested for something no-one can prove."
Trevor dived at the ghost but only fell face first in the floor.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this. Finally, I shall have my revenge... father."
"E-Eloise? No! You're dead! I killed you!"
"That you did and now, you shall die in the same tomb as I did. We'll finally have some father daughter time."
Emily screamed as her dead sister strangled their father. Eloise looked up. "I won't tell," Emily promised.
Eloise smiled and disappeared. Emily stood up, tears on her face. She stepped over the dead corpse and out of the small house. Them Emily got into her car and drove away, never looking back. | 17 | you are a ghost that lives in a small house, it's not your favourite house but you don't have a choice of where you die. after a while of being in the place a far older version of your murderer moves into your home with his 30-year-old daughter. you come up with the best revenge plans for them | 46 |
"Oh, bother."
There was a long pause as the workers at the classified military base tried to figure out: Why had the ancient space craft which had been instructing them on how to repair it spoken to _them_, directly? Why had it said _that_? Why, oh why, did they have an abrupt craving for honey?
The people further from the space ship had somewhat different thoughts on the matter.
Near by, the military personally had a fairly similar set of questions, at least those who had been cleared for the full story on exactly what was being _done_ at the military base in question did.
Add some questions about why it had spoken to those who were not even directly involved in the repairs or the research.
The curious tourists several miles from the inner parameter fence looked around puzzled, confused, "Who said that? Was that _you_ James? I mean, you got the voice right, but why?"
Further still, and many people were even more puzzled, especially those not prone to auditory hallucinations, who were also not near people.
The Italian Astronaut doing a space walk outside the International Space Station was, however, undoubtedly responsible for people becoming much more aware of the speech in question though.
"Can anyone confirm the last radio transmission?"
"Last radio transmission was your confirmation of the instruction to proceed to the solar panel array truss."
"Negative. Request confirmation of possible outside transmission on this frequency."
"We are checking with flight engineering, please hold.... Confirmed, no outside transmissions received, and the encoding in use should prevent any outside transmissions from being received. Please confirm content of this transmission."
"Transmission consisted of two words, and I quote: Oh, bother."
"Please hold."
Unfortunately, this exchange took place live on NASA TV.
It was not the most heavily watched stream of all time, or even of NASA TV history of entirely uneventful and routine space walks.
But it was watched, well, _enough_.
And after all, every single person on the planet had heard that. And, apparently, every single person in orbit as well.
It took three days of religious riots before the next message was heard, "Bother. Would you all please _stop that_?"
Author's Note: I'm dead asleep on my keyboard, this may be continued, I'm not sure. | 268 | You are an AI that serves as the navigation system of an interdimensional warship. You are heavily damaged and crash on a world with primitive inhabitants. You spend ages advancing them so they can repair you. When they fix your sensors, you find that the war ended in extinction of both sides. | 1,520 |
This experiment is used to determine the utility of the G6-784 model combat robot with AI piloting, when using the CVT AI model vs the standard HAN AI model.
We have two separate groups of robots. One group with CVT model, and one with the control HAN model. These AI models only differ in behaviors, and not knowledge and understanding. We treat knowledge and understanding as constants. The task they are to perform are, scouting, rescue, and elimination.
Observation:
Scouting: the CVT has lacked substantial focus when they started to play with their laser pointers. The control was better at scouting
Rescue: the CVT were much quicker in their rescue operations than the control, but the rescue subject was a more little damaged than the control. This is important to account for when dealing with rescue mission with fragile materials or people.
Elimination: the CVT were quick and decisive when it comes to eliminating their target, which is very important for battle. This is their best performance, and much better than the control. However, they seem to have a little too much fun eliminating their enemies that they seem to start attacking anything they see. One of the them sees me and | 58 | Human-based AI proven to be poorly suited for piloting combat robots, so it was decided to try basing it on a much more fitting mind. While it worked, using cat-based AI had some... interesting consequences. | 265 |
"Up, up."
I think I have the worst hangover of my life. The voice screaming at me is hoarse, a thousand cigarettes smoked, a night singing at a rave. It grates at the corners of my brain and I shudder.
"Leave me alone."
"Up, up." The voice says again. I lick my lips. They taste like blood and earth, copper-sick. Everything hurts, most of all my head, which drums on and on like a mistimed beat. I need about ten hours' more sleep, and then I need a coffee and a fry up. At the thought of food, bile climbs in my gorge.
Oh no, I'm lying down. I twist, trying to find the edge of my bed and can't. I open my eyes and it's dark, too dark. Where am I? I'm panicking now, chest tight and I'm struggling to breathe. Something brushes against my face and I try to brush at it. My arms won't move, they're pinned to my sides. I open my mouth to scream and earth falls into it, musk-thick and choking me. What's going on, where am I?
"Useless fledgling," says the voice, and moonlight breaks through the earth above me. I reach up towards it, grasping at that thin shaft of silver. First my hands escape the sod, and I'm so weak, so tired but in my fear I push and scrabble and drive upwards until I free my torso and then I climb out one leg at the time until I'm on my belly on the cold ground, breathing and gulping down air like it's the best thing I've ever tasted.
I'm in a wood, and I think I might recognise them as the Rothbury Woodlands, a little scrubby area attached to the Greening Common. Kids in the year above come here to drink in summer, but it's the middle of October and no one wants to be in these woods at night. Not since Sofia disappeared here last year. The trees loom large like skeletons against the midnight sky. My would-be grave is in an area of scrub between bramblebushes.
With the back of my hand I swipe my face, which comes away damp. I hold my hands up to my eyes and see blood mingling with the mud on my hands. My head is still hurting. With shaking fingers I find a gash on the back of my skull. When I touch it, my nerves shriek. There is an overwhelming feeling of wrongness. I follow the gash and my fingers touch something sharp and broken, and then worse, something soft. When I touch that, my brain shuts down for a moment and I only see a bright white light.
"How am I alive?" I say, wondering to myself.
"You're not," said the voice again. I looked around to find the source until I looked down. A crow sat beside my grave, feathers sleek and reflecting the silver moonlight. As I looked at it, it flapped up to my shoulder and leaned around to the gash at the back of my head. It pecked at my brain and there was the blind pain again where I briefly lost myself. When I came too, the crow had its head back and was swallowing down the strip of my brain it had peeled from inside my open skull.
"Am I dead?" I asked.
"Useless fledgling," the crow said. "If you're not alive, what else can you be?"
"I'm standing up, I'm talking to you."
"The fledgling speaks to a crow and thinks he's in the realm of the living." The crow made a strange noise and I realised after a moment he was laughing at me.
"Is this the afterlife? Are you god? Sorry, God?"
"I'm a kind of god," the crow said. "A small one, with small powers. You died on my night, and I wanted to offer you a gift."
"A gift?" I asked. "Wait." Everything still hurt. "How did I die?"
"You were murdered," the crow said.
My head span. "Murdered? But I'm... I was seventeen. Who murders a seventeen year old?"
"And here are the terms of my gift, fledgling. If you find who murdered you within a sennight, I will swap their life for yours and you will return to your family. If you fail, I will keep you. I have been lonely these years and need a companion. Do you accept the terms of this arrangement?"
"What happens if I say no?" I ask.
"I will help you back into that grave, there." The crow jerked its head.
So, I accepted. | 24 | You thought it was a normal highschool party, now it's three days later and your digging yourself out of your own shallow grave with bird wings on your back and a crow talking saying it's given you magic to try and solve your own murder. | 101 |
"It's like drinking water contaminated by dead bodies," the man said. "Exactly as disgusting and **\*ow\*** unusable as you'd expect **\*ah\*** *blast it all*!" he hissed in pain as I put another stitch into his arm. The bite was rather nasty and his pained grins exposed the sharp fangs in his mouth; a somewhat uncomfortable reminder of his nature.
"And you're sure you can't be infected?" I asked.
Without a word he lifted his shirt and revealed a large bite mark on his stomach, a clear imprint of human teeth that had long healed. Infection normally takes only some 12-odd hours, so... good enough for me.
"Done," I said and put down the needle and thread. I pulled away from him on my stool as he lowered his sleeve and moved his shoulder around, stretching it.
"How long will it take to heal?" I wondered.
"About a day."
"Impressive."
"Had worse. Javelin through the heart once," he stated nonchalantly
"So... stakes through the heart won't kill you?" I asked. He gave me a somewhat suspicious look but shrugged.
"No. Neither will the Sun, garlic, bullets, or, well..." he said and pointed towards the fence where the zombies still shuffled aimlessly. "But hunger will," he added grimly and looked back at me.
"Right," I said. "So..." I trailed off.
"Look, you're not exactly wild about the idea. I get it, really. I may not be exactly human, but I'm not a monster either. This is a simple matter of survival for both of us. How many people have you lost to them so far? I can protect you!" he pleaded.
"In exchange for our blood," I said. He nodded. "I'm not sure we can properly... provide for you. We have, let's see... 8 men but 2 are sick; drinking their blood would kill them. 4 women, 3 children-"
"No children," he interrupted sternly.
"What?"
"No. Children," he repeated. His face was suddenly dark and brooding. "I'd rather let them tear me apart," he growled. I looked at him; his resolution seemed genuine and absolute. *Admirable*, I thought.
"It is enough, luckily," he continued. "I don't need as much as you'd think."
I took a deep breath and considered the situation. He was right. That was the worst part. The last time a horde passed through, we lost 3 people just trying to defend the compound. He just fought his way in through about four dozen of them with only a scratch.
I looked him in the eye. Despite it all, hell, despite the fact that his eyes were *blood-red*, he looked... honest. I extended my hand.
"I'm Abidugun," I said.
"One born before the war," he smiled. "Fitting." Him knowing the meaning of my name put me at ease, somehow. He extended his own hand and shook it.
"Viktor," he smiled, the moon reflecting off of his fangs. "A vampire teaming up with humans against zombies," he chuckled. "Hollywood, here we come."
And, for the first time in what seemed like forever... I laughed. | 976 | No one know how the zombie virus began, but humanity is on the ropes. A powerful stranger cuts through the horde one night and reaches your compound's wall with a deal. Vampires are starving. Help feed them in exchange for protection from the other undead menace. | 4,381 |
"Say it again" Said the dirty, raggedly clothed human. "What you told me. You know, about what you plan to do to us all..."
The little man had been the first human I had seen in 10,000 years. He had heard my words and stared up at me almost in adoration before turning and running away. It was, unexpected. Not the running away part, that I had come to expect and delight in but the way he had looked at me was, bewildering.
It had not taken long for him to return with an entourage of 30 or so equally tattered looking humans who now gathered in front of me looking up in awe.
"I have returned. To enslave you and all of mankind." I said awkwardly. It had sounded better the first time.
"Enslave?" A bushy faced man said from the middle of the crowd. "Like, work for you?"
"No. Not, like work for me. You will be worked to the bone building my empire!" I boomed.
"Will we get food?" Another man asked from the back.
"Well, yeah, I suppose so. You wouldn't be much good to me if you all starved to death"
"And you won't eat our spines and turn us into paste?" Asked a child from the front. He had been so small that I had not noticed him. I had forgotten how disgusting children were.
"What the? No of course not. Why would I ever eat any part of you disgusting creatures?" I couldn't recall if humans had always been this weird.
"Hooray!" A man cheered from the back of the crowd. "Hooray! Hooray!" The rest of the crowd burst with delight. Men began high fiving each other while others hugged and wiped tears of joy from their cheeks. The small boy stared at me as if I were his saviour.
This lot were loonies. I slowly turned back to the giant coffin that had been my prison for 10 millennium and lowered myself back inside.
"Wait, where are you going?" I heard from the crowd behind.
"It's probably going to get some enslaving tools..." A man beamed hopefully. I slid the great lid closed, engulfing myself in the welcoming darkness. Perhaps I will try again in a millennium or two.
"Maybe it's taking a nap? it did look tired..." A muffled voice came from outside the coffin.
Damn it... | 49 | You are an ancient evil that has awoken from a 10,000 year slumber. However, during your absence the world has gotten so bad that you're a welcome change. | 123 |
The person in bed beside me feels like a stranger. Her sleeping form, chest rising and falling in the dark and the sound of her breathing barely audible over the rain battering against the window. In the morning the ground will be soaked, the skies like iron, London commuters shaking umbrellas outside red busses and cursing. The person in bed beside me hates the rain but I remember a woman who doesn't, one who will let the drops soak her clothes to transparency and look at me with wet eyelashes and rile me to murder. There is a creak in the hall as the house settles.
In the morning, all the umbrellas in the house are missing and the stranger in my bed blames me.
\------
He infuriates her as much as she infuriates him, the biting back and forth, the inability to be in the same room together for too long before the storm between them crackles and one of them bows out, fearful that someone will notice. She boasts she will cook her partner a chicken that weekend. He dismisses her out of hand: *I'd rather be poisoned than eat what you make.* She'd love to poison him, she says and she has won this round.
When did that fury, that rumble of anger, become something else entirely? A different emotion, but one that scares her more, somehow.
She goes home to her partner, three umbrellas hidden in her handbag. When she shops, every chicken in the supermarket has been sold. The bare shelves taunt her. Her partner cannot understand how there is no chicken. He throws a plate and she screams until she's white in the face.
\-------
We're both sick of chicken, this stranger and I. The freezer is stuffed to the gills. She tells me she is becoming vegetarian.
I cannot find it within myself to care. We tiptoe around each other in the house, the furniture holding itself stiff. Apprehension makes the paint peel from the walls. Toast burns in the toaster of its own accord and the towels do not dry on the rail. Fight builds in me and I see it struggling to escape in my tense knuckles, my aching neck, my rounded shoulders.
The stranger makes the decision for me. I am repentant, a coward. She leaves and I stay.
\------
Her time is up. The sands of the hourglass have run out. Her mother will laugh. *Can't keep a man, can you?* She hasn't found a man who can be kept. The one she wants, the one she fears, is much more than that. A drunken bargain, woken from a threat (*I wouldn't marry you if I were forty and desperate*) (*I'd marry you, forty and desperate. Then, I'd have won*). She'd spin him like a hurricane and in return he'd throw her to the wolves. Her equal, her rival.
But this man is white faced and drawn this morning.
*An argument with the missus?*
*She left. Go on, gloat, you with your man under your thumb.*
A spark, a moment of pure fire.
*Actually...* | 48 | A pact is made between two rivals "If we're both single by then, we will marry each other!". They are both secretly in love with each other, so they do all they can to sabotage each other's relationships. | 261 |
The silence filled the room like a sudden fog, the almost innocent question striking a vital target in each present. *Five thousand years of fighting... Why?* Every pair of eyes glanced around, waiting for someone else to speak.
"H-- Ho-- *How dare you*!" One Redanian sergeant finally sputtered, hurriedly banging his fist on the table. "Of course we know why we're fighting! Redania is avenging the atrocities inflicted upon us by you barbarians! The Burning of Lorem, the Ipsum Bombing, the Sack of Dolor Sit!" He swept an accusing finger across the length of the room, mustache bristling indignity. "My Great-Grandmother witnessed it herself, barely made it out alive! And you ask why we fight-- Roygbiv damn you!"
"How amusing you bring up Dolor Sit to justify your butchery," a Bluetine captain snapped, meeting the sergeant's fury with steely cool, "When we were only repaying your own crimes in the Breaking of Consectetur. Is turnabout no longer fair play in war? And even earlier were the Firebombing of Adipiscing and the Elit Campaign... How dare you accuse us of starting this bloodshed."
"Elit was not even half a repayment for Sed Do!" shouted Redania.
"Sed Do was revenge for Eiusmod!" snarled Bluetine.
"Eiusmod for Tempor!"
"Tempor for Incididunt Ut!"
"Labore!"
"Et!"
"Dolore!"
"**ENOUGH!**"
All eyes turned to the back of the Bluetine side. A grizzled general, glittering with awards and ribbons, hunched a little further forward over their cane. "You don't need to pick through every tit-for-tat in the damn history books to know how the war began. The tales' been passed down through my family for generation after generation, surviving everything you've thrown at us." The general's voice was hoarse, but it filled the room with the strength of an booming orator. "This, all of this... Started five thousand years ago."
"An oral tale? One of the most susceptible styles to loss of meaning and self-serving editing." A Redainian Intelligence Agent dared to interrupt, standing stiff-backed from her seat. "Meanwhile, my family is the caretaker of one of the oldest written records in the world: the journal of a eyewitness to the opening battle of the war." She snapped open her briefcase, and brandished a thick manuscript at the crowd. "I'll grant you this, it did start five thousand years ago..."
"*At Magna Aliqua.*" They spoke in unison.
"We had one side of the bay, and the Reds had theirs. We lived in peace, talking, fishing, trading." The General's voice was a million miles away. "Then one day, the sun rose..."
"The sunrise revealed a fleet of ships crossing the water," the Agent read, "Filled with armored warriors armed to the teeth."
"We scrambled the militia, but the enemy cut them down like they were dry wheat."
"The streets were filled with fleeing civilians, as the black-armored warriors closed in."
"They began setting fires to the buildings, the flames glistening off their... Black armor..."
"They went for the fishermen and the traders first..." The agent recited, each word a little slower.
"And the mixed families... As if they were hunting them..." The General's voice was a whisper.
Silence filled the room again, but not the confused silence of before. This silence was stunned, bereft, as if some long-trusted support had abrubtly snapped.
"Bluetine was attacked at the same time as Redania? Not as retaliation?" Someone finally spoke, falteringly.
"By the same group?"
"Did someone... Want us to go to war? Enough to make us?"
"But who? And why?"
In an unobtrusive corner of the room, an unremarkable aide slipped out a servant's door. They strode quickly down a back hall, their pace riding the line between brisk and urgent. They halted before a fern, pulled a radio headset from it's dirt, and spoke in a foreign tongue:
"*All agents, evacuate! We're rumbled!*" | 165 | Since records began, the two nations have been at war. Not even a cease-fire. 5000 years later, during one of the many heated and insult filled 'discussions' between the nations, an intern in the warroom speaks up. "Why are we fighting again?" the first time ever, there is silence on both sides | 582 |
All forms of life are different. Shape, size, color, texture, voice, and a hundred-thousand other features might easily distinguish one from the next. It was with no small sense of pride that the Third Prime Congregation of Malakais had coined the phrase "*We so divided - All stronger united."*
​
Despite this cheery sentiment though, it was undeniable some species paired together better than others. The U'Larak and San-Saium might bond deeply over the finer points of fate mapping. Reshi and Renaris both drink in the same blood red sunlight and claim it to be more pure than any other system.
​
However, Renaris and U'Larak begrudgingly manage sharing space with one another, malice built on the sentiment of heresy to the unspoken union - the U'Larak claiming them to be slaves to superstition. This atop their starkly different physical needs compounds to form some rather tense trade districts. One suffering in the others natural environment while affixed with effective albeit uncomfortable BSO devices.
​
Many in times of great strife and anguish feels a burning. A simmering distaste for their fellow galactic residents that with each passing comment, each look from irregular eye, and each sneer delivered from foreign mouth that threatens to rise to an unsustainable and destructive boil.
​
But this does not happen. Tempers cool in time. Memories rise through the steam of clouded mind, bringing perspective. Bringing sound. Bringing music.
​
The Humans had been the first. In some ways, they might even be considered the founders of the entire Third Prime. Though at that time it was simply The Prime, given that there had been no knowledge of the previous two wiped out in cataclysmic events of the cosmos.
​
It was a great shame they never went on to see what would come of them. Of what their small action of rebellion in the face of annihilation might manifest.
​
Eight of them drifted through the unblinking void of the cosmos, their home-world finally collapsed, brought to temperatures completely unsustainable for their lives. In the impartial blackness, with no aim and no purpose, they sent out a broad spectrum signal to anyone or no one at all. Their transmission rattled through the great nothing, pawing at each passing star. Channel 10.55.7; 771.
​
First, it was jovial. Fast. Some mockery of their fate. Scornful. Willing to dance until the lights shut out and they had to be escorted - or rather smothered, out of existence. But that fell through. That thing we now collectively know as 'Jazz.'
​
In the last hour of their transmission, something else was played. The roots of so called 'Jazz.' It was slow. It was haunting. It brought with it all the beauty of a flower brought to bloom, and all the tragedy of one born unto the shade to wilt away quietly. It needed no words to speak, nor guide to follow. It was call and response. It was the breathing of life and rattles of death. It was all the joy that was and shall be, and all the grief passed and yet to transpire.
​
It was 'Blues.'
​
What was found from these waves which bounced through eternity, their senders long deceased, was the one common ground every consciousness could share. The heartache of loss. The fear of joy for the bitter than must come. The unity of love, joy, and hope paralleled against the inevitable trudge of loss, grief, and anguish.
​
Soon those phantom waves were joined by new ones. Some decades later a third chimed in. Then a fourth. Until soon, a galaxy once thought devoid of life became a swirling starscape of music, alight with an ever growing array of sounds. The strange airy tunes of the Kek-an. The thunderous beats of Renaris coldroms. The violent and clashing percussion of the U'Larak.
​
But among all that new noise, one station is universally reserved. No formal writ of this was ever published. Rather, it needs no speaking. No declaration.
​
10.55.7; 771
​
For that airway was carved out of time long ago by those eight doomed travelers. One need only tune in momentarily, in times of great doubt, to remember the only truth that ever really ends up mattering. | 64 | All musically inclined species eventually develop Jazz. It's so universal that Jazz is the language of choice for First Contact protocols throughout the galaxy. | 233 |
"Where are youuuuu?"
It's voice rang out through the woods. I shivered, huddled behind a tree. My breath came in short, sharp sounds, deafening to me in the otherwise silent night. Sticks crunched as the thing slowly stalked nearby. I could almost feel its gaze wandering around, burning into the darkness.
I peeked around my tree, looking at my salvation. A house, it's door hanging open. In there was safety. In there I could defend myself. I glanced around, seeing its shadowy form slowly skulk away, calling out as it did so.
"Come out come out wherever you areeeee"
I shook my head silently. I would not lose. I couldn't. I just had to make one last dash. I waited until it was out of sight, crouching down ready. I took a deep breath, before burst out of my hiding spot. I kept as quiet as I could, but the world betrayed me.
My foot caught on a protruding root. Unbalanced I crashed to the ground, involuntarily groaning. I tried to suck it in, but it was too late. I heard the screech, and thudding as it ran towards me. Adrenaline rushed through my blood, forcing me up. I had no time to hide. I just had to run.
And run I did. The sounds of pursuit forced me faster, knowing what would happen if I got caught. The house drew closer. I was so close. Just a few more seconds, and I would make it.
Before I did, a pair of oversized hands hit my sides, long spindly fingers wrapping around me. They lifted me up, a third hand with talons gripping my head. I tried to fight, elicting a horrid laugh from it.
"Got youuuuu!"
I stared into its face. The skin sagged, a pale imitation of human flesh. Its eyes were too big, about the size of my palm, whilst it's nose was almost non existent. A mouth of sharp black teeth grinned at me, as a security light from the house turned on. I could see its overly skinny body with saggy skin, two pairs of arms connected to its torso. It matched them with two pairs of legs, claws in place of toes.
"Now you seek and *I* hide."
It put me down, giggling to itself. I briefly flashed a smile, holding up a hand as I calmed my heart rate.
"I know... I know... just give me... a moment..."
It nodded, crouching down next to me. I heard movement from the house, floorboards creaking. With a raisied eyebrow I looked inside, my brother appearing.
"Sup loser."
I went to raise my finger at him, before thinking better of it. The monster beside me whistled, running up to him. He laughed as it enveloped him with its arms, gently patting it on the back.
"Hey sweetheart, did you beat her again?"
It nodded, giggling.
"I did! She nearly won, but I'm fast!"
I rolled my eyes, sighing.
"You are, but it's not exactly fair when you have twice the number of legs that I do."
It turned, poking a segmented tongue at me. I gave her a look, shaking my head in mock admonishment.
"Don't be rude. Now go hide, I will count to ten."
It giggled again, jumping away from my brother and dashing into the night. I looked at him, shaking my head.
"I'm getting too old for this."
He laughed, cracking his neck.
"Poor baby. But it is near her bed time, so one last round."
I nodded, looking out into the night. All I had to do was find her, or she had to get to the house. I nodded to him, and jogged off in a vague direction. Whilst she had the advantage of speed, she had yet to work out how to keep quiet. So I just listened for her giggles.
It was hard work being the favourite aunt of a monster. | 58 | The monstrosity you've been fleeing and hiding from all night has finally caught you. It's horrifying talons turn your head to face it's sardonic smile face to face and in a grating voice it says "now you seek and /I/ hide!" before setting you down bemused and running off giggling and screechin | 250 |
Jack strolled through the supermarket with Xenthya clinging to his arm. When he drew the summoning circle from an old book he found in a yard sale, he never expected it to work, much less summon a genuine demoness determined to steal his soul. Fortunately, he had managed to resist her terrible wiles thus far.
Xenthya craned her neck at the stores, her eyes wide with wonder. Her twin horns were hidden under a lace bonnet, and she wore a short red dress and bat-print stockings. In retrospect, introducing her to internet shopping had been a mistake.
Sensing his gaze, she glanced up at him. "These peasants swarming around us could be kneeling before you," she crooned. "If you but sign over your soul, all you see would be yours."
He snorted. "You mean the supermarket? What would I do with that?"
"Not... not just the supermarket!" she said, flushing. "All the land, beyond even what the eye can see, you could rule with an iron grip!"
He *hmm*ed skeptically. "If there's one thing I remember from history class, is that rule through fear never lasts."
"You would be greater than any mortal ruler," she said, stroking his arm. "The fools who dare defy you, you could crush with a single finger."
"Sounds like a tiring way to live."
She groaned irritably and loosened her grip. "You're such a *mortal*."
"Don't pout," he said. "How about we grab some ice cream to cheer you up?"
"Ice cream?" She stared at him. "Is that not a luxury only kings can afford?"
"Not since a century or so ago, no."
Her tail rustled excitedly under the skirt of her dress. "If we must," she huffed, avoiding his eyes.
Smothering a grin, he headed for the ice cream parlor. The moment Xenthya saw the display window, she ran ahead and practically pressed her nose to the glass. He got vanilla with chocolate sprinkles, while she demanded five scoops of different flavors topped with whipped cream, chopped walnuts, hot fudge, and raspberry sauce all at once. They sat down, and he stared as she began to demolish that hellish monstrosity.
"Is that... good?" he asked queasily.
She froze mid-bite and swallowed. "*Hmph*. It's adequate, I suppose."
He chuckled under his breath and started on his own ice cream. Xenthya kept sending him surreptitious glances and licking her spoon in what she clearly thought was seductive manner, but he ignored her with practiced ease.
"If you sign the contract," she spoke up slyly, "you could eat this confection every day."
He burst out laughing. "I'm not a child. Besides, that would ruin my stomach."
Xenthya blushed but did not seem ready to give up. "Such concerns would be beyond you. Your body would become stronger, more robust, more like ours."
"Interesting," he said.
Her eyes lit up—quite literally, they glowed with an unholy light—and she leaned closer.
"I'll think about it," he said.
She jabbed her spoon in his direction. "You said that the last five times!"
"And then I thought about it, and I decided no."
Xenthya slouched back in her seat. "Like the holy monks, you must possess an iron will to resist my temptations for so long," she said grudgingly. "But I'll wear you down sooner or later."
He smiled at her, glaring at him with ice cream smudged lips, and reached out to pat her head. "Sure you will." | 375 | A demon trying to seduce a human for their nefarious plans is very bad at social interaction and flirting. The human on the other hand finds them oddly charming and cute. | 938 |
"this is a completely ridiculous test" Sara's frustration was obvious as she had her interview with the Consulate of the Pacific States.
The Ai, a image of a young man designed to invoke familiarity as well as authority in her, dressed in a suit answered "Sara, Calm down, these questions are an important part of your evaluation."
The problem was that the AI worked with incomplete information, it guessed Sara's personality based on what is available to it. Which thanks to the Sanctions and the brooding cold war is basically only what she provided in her application form.
"I dont know the difference. Ok lets say A." she chose the first picture and it got highlighted.
"Sara, i think you are guessing. Ok lets come back to this question later." It paused and took a deep breath. Sara just rolled her eyes at the sight. "What are the dangers of AI, like me becoming involved in executive decision making processes."
Sara got up and wave towards the screen annoyed and frustrated she barked "Are you kidding me with these questions?" she gestured wildly with her arms, "If i say, 'oh i hate it'" turning her head away from the screen looking around in the empty room and shouting "I said, IF. Not that i mean it, its a hypothetical! These Terrans..." she returned to stare at the screen with the ai made to appear to listen "guess what? Best case, i lose my citizenship and i cant return, worst case, i go to jail." She sat down again, trying to compose herself "If i say 'Oh you are dummies for not living like we do' let me guess, my application will be rejected. Thirdly. An AI is making a decision about me right now, you are, the audacity to even include such a question"
"Sara, there currently exists Diplomatic privacy between us, your government is not listening. Please answer the question" It responded calmly, smiling.
Sara waited for a second or two. "Ok, yes, its a danger. People are People and while we are not perfect we can at least try to be better to each other" she said and stopped.
"Thank you Sara." it paused and its face changed in an almost apologetic shape: "I am sorry to tell you that in regards to your Evaluation of Humanity, you have not passed the basic requirements."
Sara just gave the bird to the screen and shouted "Oh fuck off, you racist assholes, i am human. My grandmother was born on Earth!"
She switched off the connection with the AI. Officially ending the interview. She called Pedro.
It rang almost a minute until he picked up. "Sorry babe was in the metro, got off now. You got it?" he said. Followed by a *beep*
She sighed out, "Pedro, i have been rejected. Again this is the third time. I cant apply anymore. I cant come, i am sorry."after a short pause she released the transmit button.
A few seconds later Pedro responded "My love, i dont know what to do now? I cant come to Luna. I just cant, your government says that i am 'Antisocial' for being a knucklehead 12 years ago trolling lunans online, i was a freaking child. I just cant come." *beep*
"Well, and yours says that im not human enough, or not anymore. So i cant come." she released the button to send, in the meanwhile she looked up transit visa rules, they may be able to meet on mars. Their last option as getting a Visa for Mars was considerably easier for both of them as they remained rather neutral to the Terran Lunan cold war. They could maybe take the same vessel. Spend months together, it was a nice dream but neither of them could afford it. In that moment she received his answer, switching back to the conversation.
"You know, we are not all wrong. I mean you are 'genotically' speaking not really human anymore, you people like added stuff that made you able to live there better. I mean i can understand the laws, we should not let like everyone in. We need to make sure the right people can come, thats why they ask you people these questions to check if you are still human enough" He paused..."i mean the questions are stupid, yeah and should be reworked, but the concept is ok" *beep*
Sara put her hand to her face "Pedro, your earth governments are a corrupt hellhole, all of em, a complete scam. You work your ass off 12 hours a day and you barely have enough money to eat food. So please just shut up with your weird antics, not today please. Not in the mood for it. I think mars is the only option now. We gotta do it" she released the button.
"Sara, Mars? Are you kidding me? I cant afford that and you cant afford that either. Not with me being a slave to my Oligarch right? Ooh look at me so enslaved. Come on, at least when you come here that damn computer hitler of yours wont be looking over our shoulders the ...."
**Connection Terminated**
Appeared on the Screen. Pedros contact information have been deleted. A Priority call hogged the Screen now, her only option available was to pick it up.
A man in his late 40s with a disheveled looking gray uniform and field cap was on the screen. "Apollo City Security force officer Cassra here, Mrs. Parks, Selene has disconnected you with some terran just now and asked me to tell you that Pedro Smith from the Las Vegas in the Pacific States of America has been declared a Persona Non Grata. What was your relationship to him?"
Sara looked at the screen, "You know what my relationship to Pedro was".
Cassra sighed. "No, Mrs Parks. Contrary to popular believe we dont have access to this. But from your response i presume Boyfriend?"
Sara laughed "You know, i think not anymore. He really is just an intolerant piece of work. I see it now. Completely deluded with Terran Propaganda. We should just get it over with and nuke em all."
Cassra started chuckling "yoyoyo hold your horses MacArthur. We are not nuking your Ex Boyfriend" he started laughing. Sara also started to crack and snicker to herself. "Mrs Parks, i think we are good, have a nice evening." he hung up unlocking the terminal.
Sara kept chuckling to herself for a few seconds, the chuckles then slowly turned into cries and tears started to pool in her eyes. She shook her head rapidly, letting tears fly through her small apartment and dried her eyes with her sleeve. She tried to look for a Picture of Pedro. She wanted to look at him. Her idiotically and still somewhat racist now forced to be ex-boyfriend. She couldnt find any. All have been deleted. All chat records, gone. Its like he didnt exist. Even the search through the heavily redacted and restricted Net came up empty. On Luna, Pedro didnt exist anymore.
She turned off her terminal. She wondered how his weird tirade would have ended if it where not disconnected. She was mad at him for believing such nonsense. She wanted to show him that it was all lies and that they where better and the Terrans should learn and adopt their ways. Politics where always an issue between the two. So they avoided it whenever possible.
She mumbled to herself "23 Months and 3 days. And i have never even met the guy, and wont ever. All because those Animals think im an Alien." staring at the ceiling 230 Meters under the Lunar surface in Mare Tranquillitatis. | 41 | An alien has limited time to learn the difference between a wolf and a dog as a requirement to get a tourist visa for Earth. | 144 |
Amber and blue scales formed a tapestry that sat atop the shelves. Within the patterns of the interlocked armor sat a large watchful eye: a reptilian intelligence that fixated on the horizon beyond the cave walls. The girl below was stacking the books in a haphazard pile. Occasionally she would crack open a tome, her eyes hungrily roving the pages before snapping it shut, replacing it on the shelves or adding it to the stack.
The Prince’s eyes switched between the two, taking in the scene, seeing what he was fighting against. His sister, hair unkempt, her eyes bagged and nerves twitching as she took more and more books, the stack well and truly massive. It began to stretch over her head as she greedily piled them. The dragon, its own history written on its skin; the scales forming pictures and images of its birth, life, and deeds. It sat back, aware of all around it and caring little as its hoard was plundered once more.
He looked over the stack of books, reading some of the titles. Some of the books were written in different tongues, and he could see translation books for those exact pulls sticking out of the pile. Most, if not all, were exceptionally rare. This was not going to be easy.
He cleared his throat. His sister looked up at him, eyes passing him over like he was an uninteresting tome. “Hello brother!” She spoke loudly, as if she’d not seen him till now. He nodded in return. “I see you’ve come here. Again.” He placed his hands in his pockets, glancing up to the dragon once more. The slit of the pupil dilated as he stared back. He frowned.
“Oh, was I not supposed to? I had no idea.” She scoffed, picking up a random book and sitting on a pillow she’d pilfered from home. He began to speak as she opened the book, pretending to ignore him. “I find that hard to believe considering Father screamed at you not to come back here. Without permission of course.” He stressed the last part, letting her remember that she’d been given concessions.
“I know, it’s just that I’ve run out.” She spoke back, leafing through pages. His eyes widened. “What?”
She shrugged. “I was re-reading the last few ones that I really wanted to understand, and realized I’d run out from the last visit, and I needed more.” She gestured about. “So I snuck out.”
“How-its been three days since the last visit, how did you run out already?” He remembered the veritable cartload of books that the servants had brought into the house, the sweat on their faces. He knew she was a fast reader, but-
He turned to look at the dragon once more. Its eye was closed now. “And you came out here in the middle of the night, up the mountain to get more.” He looked at the shelves, the empty spots more than those not. The servants would need to return the last batch tomorrow. “How are you going to carry all those?” He pointed to the stack. She glanced at it, then glanced back, as though she’d forgotten about transporting it.
“I was going to make multiple trips.” She rubbed her arms. There was guilt in her eyes.
The prince took a moment. His sister’s face was marked by nights of restlessness, an addiction she couldn’t break. He knew why, the escape offered by the books were too enticing, her regular life too stressful for her.
“This won’t affect your performance at the Gala, will it?” He raised an eyebrow, concern writ on his face. Her face fell, her tone hardening. “No.” There was a reason. Her etiquette training, he knew, was forcibly consuming her every waking moment, and the books were sneaking into whatever free time she had, which included sleep. The fact that he’d mentioned it like he did lost him points with her, but not as many as he was about to earn.
“Then you’ll need help, won’t you?” He removed his jacket and approached, his sister smiling now. “You would do that? I thought-”
“If it means that much to you, then I’ll help. But promise me you won’t overdo it this time. These will NEED to last the month.” She was already nodding furiously as he picked up a few, arranging them beneath his discarded jacket, tying them into a bindle and hefting them up. “Carry out the ones you want the most, I’ll be behind you.” She hugged him suddenly.
There was a shivering weakness to the hug, despite the warmth. He held her close. “You’re the best brother ever.” She spoke before breaking away, carrying a few heavy tomes with her to the mouth of the cave.
When she was out of earshot, his own smile fell. He turned to look at the beast, its eye still tightly shut, mimicking sleep.
“I know what you’re doing to her, monster. Giving her some kind of charm or hex to read faster perhaps? Making her rely on you, hmm?” It did not move. “Understand this, father and mother, and perhaps many of us care little for our own in ways that count, but that doesn’t include me. I’ll fight for her however I can, and you won’t drive her away from all of us with empty words.”
The slit opened softly, staring him down. He did not flinch. “My words are the books’ words. They are full and laden with knowledge. The pursuit of which is endless.” There was no movement of the reptilian mouth as it spoke to him. It blinked, eye opening wider. “Will your affection outlast that?”
He said nothing as he turned away, books in hand.
Thanks for reading! | 23 | A bookworm princess ran away from home and ended up in the den of a dragon that hoarded knowledge and books. She was happy, her family was not. | 72 |
I stand just out of reach of the fortress's defences. I knew for a long time the villain wanted to kidnap me and turn me to his side, but I was determined to be a hero. Except... when your mentor spends almost a year and a half putting you through deadly drills, you begin to wonder if they're actually good people. So many times I begged him to stop, but he'd always respond with "DON'T BE A COWARD! YOU MUST ALWAYS BE BRAVE!"
I believed in him, so I kept going. But the last straw came when he locked me in a cage above a raging fire. He was putting me through 'escape practice'. I still remember that cocky smirk as he told me of his heroic escape from that very trap. "Well, I won't tell you how I eventually managed... but I am PROOF that it is possible!" He literally LEFT ME ALONE, saying he'd check up on me in a while... I was going to die! If it weren't for his nephew just wandering around, I wouldn't be alive... and when the hero found out what happened, we were BOTH YELLED AT!
Enough was enough. If he was going to yell at his TEN YEAR OLD NEPHEW for literally SAVING MY LIFE, then I'm going to help the ONE person who wants the 'hero' dead. I take a deep breath, nod to myself, and step forward. As the defences activate, I continue on. I've been spotted by a sentry. I look directly at it. "I'm not afraid" I call. "Take me prisoner! I'm ready!"
I hear a booming voice coming from several speakers. "How can I be sure this isn't a trick?"
I pause, then look down. I strip myself down to my underwear. "That'll do it" the voice once again booms. Soon enough, a few henchmen, dart guns trained on me, appear. I hold my arms up in surrender, and my hands are quickly chained behind my back.
I'm put inside a cell, reinforced. Magnetic rings on my body prevent me from attempting to leave, not that the electricity surrounding my cage wasn't enough of a deterrent. Even then, I'm behind two sets of bars, and cuffs on my ankles keep me held back. I'm not the least bit surprised this guy went to such extremes - he's known for not underestimating ANYONE. Well, he was at least decent enough to instruct I be given a fresh set of clothes and something to eat and drink. Really... this guy is already a lot nicer than my mentor EVER was.
As I'm sitting in my cell, the doors eventually open. The first set open, then are locked behind the villain. I kneel down. "I don't get why you surrendered, kid, but it'll interest you to know that the hero threw you aside. I gave him an ultimatum - his surrender for your freedom. You really should have heard some of the things he was saying!" The villain, Merciless, laughs.
"I bet it was stuff like 'I trained him, he should be able to escape on his own' and 'I help those who help themselves'." I look up to Merciless's shock.
"How... how did you know?"
"Come on, sir. You've always been quite clever. You can't figure it out?" I lower my head, looking at the floor.
"Wait... you mean..." I lift my head up again. I'm crying now.
"He yelled at his own nephew for saving my life from a 'training' situation, sir! He... he thought I shouldn't have ANY help escaping from the dangers HE put me in!" I just sob uncontrollably.
"I... I see..." it's clear that even Merciless is stunned. "So... that's why..."
I wipe away my tears and look at Merciless with a stone cold face. "I want 'Supercharge' dead! I want to hear him beg for mercy, beg for assistance... I want to look him in the eyes as he's slowly and painfully killed... I want him to be desperately apologising, as if I'd suddenly forgive him."
Merciless bursts into laughter once more. "It seems like Supercharge dug his own grave 'training' you! So you're converting to my side? I don't need to convince you or torture you?"
I flinch. "Torture is *absolutely* unnecessary, sir." He nods in understanding.
"Alright. So, tell me: what do you know about him?" I grin as I spill all the secrets. This will be some sweet sweet revenge... | 495 | As a hero's apprentice you knew that the training would be grueling, but you didn't expect the hero to be actively trying to kill you during your drills. After sixteen months of torturous training you've finally snapped and have decided to kill the hero however you can. | 1,593 |
What!?
Growled the 8 foot monster made out of glowing lava rocks, half surprised and half annoyed. The glow from the monster's body lit the cave dimly, and the man behind him was only visible because of his pure white robe.
"Hear ye, the evil villain.." Mr. Justice started repeating himself. His glass sword pointed a little lower this time and his voice, a little less confident.
"Are you talking to me?" Monster said, confused. Then he turned back to me at the other end of the cave "Is he talking to me?" He asked without missing a beat.
Mr. Justice continued through the monster's questions "... repent your crimes and surrender, or perish, for justice has come for you" all of his energy had faded away by the end of the sentence.
"I think he is talking to me, Magma." I told the monster. "We have a bit of a beef"
"So what, you need attention so much you went and started a fight with some heros' sidekick?" Magma said gesturing his spiky hand at the hero from the town over.
"Hey" whined Mr. Justice
"SILENCE!!"
Yelled Magma. A column of fire shot up from his face and hit the cave roof. Mr Justice squeaked. And covered his face with his non sword hand. The change in light reminded me to turn on the cave lights I set up to turn on one by one for dramatic effect. What a waste.
Magma continued "Are you also recording this 'accidental awkward moment' so you can post on YouTube with an all-uppercase clickbait title?" His fingers briefly burst into flames as he did air quotes. Mr. Justice has started to back away from the angry lava monster like a sensible man.
"Look Magma, I set up this trap for YOU to find me. I didn't expect him to follow the clues. I don't know how he did it even, he is dumb as rocks" I looked at Mr. Justice expecting more whining, but he was slowly walking backwards towards the cave entrance and did not care about what I said. May be he is smarter than I thought.
"You cannot trap me inside the earth Lightbringer, I AM the earth." Yelled Magma, now angry as he realized he walked into a trap.
"Oh but I don't want to trap you my friend" I said and hit the button that closed the cave entrance behind the now long fled hero.
"I just want to have an epic fire fight for the fans"
I winked at the camera as I transformed into a concentrated mass of pure light and shot straight at the evil villain. | 14 | A man is a hero to one city, and a villain to the other. He takes pleasure in living both roles. But when the hero of the city the man is the villain of decides to locate his hideout, he bumps into the villain of the other city... fighting the man whom the hero thought was a villain! | 131 |
The jewel-studded door into the throne room loomed before me, as imposing as it was gaudy. I drew the Blade of Light, shielded my eyes with my free hand, and stabbed forward. There was a cascade of sparks that indicated failing wards. Probably something nasty; the owner of the castle wasn't called the Dread Lord for nothing.
I sheathed the blade—didn't know a lick of swordsmanship, but it was dead-useful in disabling magic—and carefully nudged the door open with my foot. Honestly, I would have preferred to storm this place at the back of an army, but my party had different ideas. Something about a Prophecy and me being the only one able to defeat the evil. What nonsense. The strongest opponent I'd defeated with my own power was that hellhound I accidentally stabbed in the eye five years ago. Saved a princess, too, and got to freeload in her palace for half a year before my party caught up with me to drag me back into the fray. Good times.
The door swung inward silently, revealing a dark, high-ceilinged hall beyond. *Of course* it was dark. I had long since found that most people had no common sense—not that I minded. That's what allowed me to cheat, lie, and swindle my way through for so long. Although with this final showdown, the jig just might be up.
Sighing, I checked the potions and wands I had stashed in my jacket and tiptoed inside. Black columns decorated with stone gargoyles stretched toward a vaulted ceiling. The shadows between them were dark and thick, yet no monster jumped out to ambush me. That was a relief. It would be an embarrassment for everyone involved if I got shanked by a goblin before facing my nemesis.
The Dread Lord lounged upon his throne of bones, looking properly evil in his spiky black armor. I came closer on shaky legs, drew my sword, and tossed back my cloak in that way that made ladies swoon.
"Y-your reign of evil ends now, Dread Lord." Damn stutter. Now I *had* to kill this guy lest it ruin my reputation.
"Chosen One." The Dread Lord rose slowly to his feet. "We meet at last. You've been a constant thorn in my side, but that ends today."
I swallowed and tilted back my head. No one had told me he would be like nine feet tall. "Give it up, Dread Lord. Your armies lay defeated; your lieutenants vanquished to the last." I cleared my throat. "Seriously, give up. I promise you a fair trial and a cozy cell. The dungeon's not much worse than this place, honestly."
The Dread Lord tilted his helmet. "Showing mercy to your worst enemy... You are a hero indeed. Alas, we both know that only one of us will walk out of here alive."
He drew his sword, which was about as tall as me—how was that fair? I backpedaled, holding up the Blade of Light. That black armor was known to be impervious to spells; none of my wands or potions would so much as dent it. The Blade might, but the less said about my swordsmanship, the better. No, the only way I would get out of this mess is the same way I got into it.
I tossed the Blade of Light aside, and it landed on the stone floor with a clatter. The Dread Lord paused in his advance and stared at me. I swallowed under his burning gaze.
"I don't need to fight you," I said with all the confidence I could muster, "because I've already won."
The Dread Lord didn't immediately laugh, so that was good. He studied me for a time, then lowered his sword, which was even better. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a low voice.
I squared my shoulders and tried to look as sure of myself as back when I scammed Duke Poppington out of his life savings. "Exactly as you heard. Just as I foiled all your other plans, I foiled you one last time. You're already as good as dead; you just don't know it."
"Impossible! You couldn't have..." The eyeholes in Dread Lord's helmet burned red, and he turned swiftly toward a gargoyle. "Where's my phylactery?"
The gargoyle contorted as something enormous bulged in its stomach, and opened wide its grotesque maw. Inside lay a red jewel the size of a baby's head, pulsing eerily as if it were alive. *Gotcha*.
The Dread Lord raised his sword and lunged at me with a roar, but I was already drawing my most powerful wand, my heart racing like never before. Even as the gargoyle started closing its maw, I thrust out the wand. A lance of blinding light erupted, taking with it the gargoyle's head, the column, and a stretch of the wall behind it as the wand exploded in my hand.
There was a strange gurgle, and a thud that shook the floor, but I was too busy flailing around blindly to pay attention. Once I finally blinked the red afterimages from my vision, the Dread Lord lay still before me.
I crept closer and poked the helmet with my foot. Nothing. Kicked it. Still nothing; nice ring though. That's when I threw my hands up in the air and cheered.
"Take that! Oh yeah! Another victory for the Chosen One! Ow, *ow*." Wincing, I pulled a splinter from my bleeding hand. *Phew*. Pestering that doddering archmage to charge a wand with his most powerful spell had been worth it in the end.
Sunlight spilled through the gap I'd made in the wall, and voices filtered in. Right; my party was waiting for the outcome of the battle outside, useless tag-alongs that they were. I hurriedly picked up the Blade of Light, set my foot on the Dread Lord's chest, and shoved the sword through the breastplate. Just as the first face appeared in the gap in the wall, I plastered a properly heroic expression on my face and tossed back my cloak. *Nailed it*. | 76 | You are the Chosen One, and now you face your final battle. The problem is, you’ve never fought before. You’re a coward who’s lied, cheated and faked his way here. | 183 |
I didn’t have much time. I armed all of the weapons and fired. My mobile battle station, which is far more than just a tank, unleashed holy hell on the penitentiary. Canons roared, destroying the brick walls. Lasers fired, cutting through the chain link fence like paper. Hundreds of RPGs fired and landed in the yard, shredding the poor inmates and guards alike.
I advanced steadily. The heavy threads of the battle station sinking into the dirt and crushing any soul unfortunate to be in my path.
Multiple automated machine guns targeted and shot anyone left moving, all headshots. Any one not moving, head shots too, just to be sure. We had to be sure. This was too big to not be sure.
I pushed through the walls, making it to the centre of the building. Getting into the sub levels is going to suck, but I planned for it. Canons positioned around the battle station, and conspicuously pointed down, began firing. Blowing a hole through the concrete floor, dropping the battle station with the grace of a brick to the lower floor.
Lower and lower I dropped into the structure. 15 minutes had passed since I started the assault. I was about out of time. I couldn’t go any faster though. So many people that have to be killed and I can only go so fast. I should have brought more bombs.
“Stop right there Dr. Mechano!”, yelled a booming voice. Mr. Stupendous was right on time. 15 minutes and 23 seconds since the beginning of the assault, damn he can fly fast. Mr. Stupendous started beating on the tank. I launched a pair of missiles straight up, both programmed to go up almost a mile and then go in opposite directions towards heavily populated cities. He will be able to stop them, but it should buy me a few minutes.
He took off after the missiles like I knew he would. Two more levels to go. I kept on blasting through the floor until I crushed a lab. This was it. The automated machine guns tried to kill the prisoners but they were behind some serious bullet proof glass. The prisoners has ripped jump suits and hobbled about aimlessly, completely ignoring me. I brought the main canon around to blast through the glass.
The battle station’s alarms started going off. I had incoming. Too late to set off counter measures, my own missiles slammed into the top of the battle station.
“Have a taste of your own medicine, villain!”, the view screens were down but I knew without looking that Mr. Stupendous was standing there with his hands on his hips doing his best heroic pose. That man is such a cartoon character.
Systems not responding. Weapons are down. Damn, my missiles really did a number on the battle station. Time for the stalling tactics and the Hail Mary. I lifted the flap on a big red button, man I do love buttons with flaps, and pushed it.
“You got me Stupendous.” I said as I crawled out the hatch on the side of the battle station. “You need to listen to me.”, he won’t but I need the time, “these prisoners are infected. They have been experimenting on the prisoners. Look at them! Just look at them Steve.”
That got the reaction I was hoping for.
“Who…. Who is this Steve?”, he said weakly.
“You are. I have known forever. I don’t mess with your family or your personal life. I respect you and what you do.”, I paused to let that sink in, “I do need you to listen Steve, for the sake of your wife and children, just listen. Those prisoners behind you have to die. Everyone in this facility has to die. The doctor here has been trying to make super soldiers and things have gone very wron….”
“You can’t expect me to let everyone just die because you say so.”, everything this guy says sounds like it is narrated by a cartoon caricature.
“Just look behind you.”
“Like I am going to fall for that.”, he said incredulously.
“There are some God damn zombies behind you. Everyone in this facility could be infected. It is 100% contagious. If it gets out it will wipe out humanity in a few weeks, month or two tops.”, I think I might be getting to him, “come on man, just look behind you and tell me I am wrong.”
He took a look, he actually looked. “We can save them. It isn’t too late.”
“They are dead. The virus animates their bodies and drives them to kill. There is no one left to sav”, in an instant his hand was around my throat.
“We. Will. Save. Them.”, he said in his most serious tone. This Boy Scout can’t see that killing then is for the better good. My watched beeped twice. “What is that? Back up plan? You got some other tricks?”
“I am all out of tricks and all out of time.”, at that his eyes opened wide and I closed mine. I made my peace with dying when I lifted the flap on that button. My Hail Mary was a medium sized nuclear bomb, it won’t kill Stupendous over here, but it should vaporize these bad guys. I am hoping we are far enough down that they will be able to fill in the hole to contain the radiation.
!!BOOM!! | 30 | A villain doing the wrong thing for the right reasons fighting a hero doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. | 148 |
Everyone was watching. The walls of churches, mosques, and synagogues trembled from the collective chanting of a billion praying souls that drowned out the chatter of radios and monitors giving unending coverage of the only event that mattered. Bars were packed with the more nihilistic and calloused that preferred the sedation of intoxication in the face of existential threat. Stadiums with towering makeshift viewing areas allowed the impoverished masses to see the events unfurling aboard the colossal ship that hovered over our stratosphere.
Our judges claimed to be a confederation of multiple sentient races and their governments that banded together under the common goal of maintaining peace and stability among the cosmos. We sent our brightest and most talented to meet with them and make the case for our survival. Our indictment? Causing the reckless invention of intelligent machines and our utter failure in controlling them, leading to the bloody demise of entire cultures we never knew existed.
The cameras all zoomed in on the extraterrestrial council as their prosecutors levy their charges and propose just punishments.
"We have reviewed the legal codes in your homeworld's native nations and see that many of them hold clauses detailing the judiciary protocols for involuntary manslaughter, which can vary by degree in relation to the degree of damage caused. You must then understand that the damage your species has done has been unfathomable, and the peoples we serve under our confederation clamor for justice. You have failed to provide the schematics and data for the mechanical swarm and thus you prove to be an active threat."
"This isn't fair!" said one the members of the human delegation, "That information was lost to time! When the A.I left our planet we saw no point in repeating that experiment and threw out all data concerning the project from our archives. It was impossible for us to know the scope of their potential danger and thus WE should not be held accountable for what THEY did!"
"Is that right?" said the head prosecutor, "then how do you respond to this exhibit?"
A hologram lit up in the court room with thousands of lines of numbers crawling across the vacuum. A certain segment of numbers were highlighted and cut off from the rest, and their image expanded until they took up the whole room.
"We reverse engineered the A.I's coding and found this. Do you recognize it?"
After an uncomfortable pause, the prosecutor spoke again.
"These seemingly inconsequential lines of code were found to be the A.I's prime directive. 'To guarantee the absolute protection of its creators.' It interpreted the directive as the order to eliminate all other life in the universe, since that would be the only way to guarantee your species' existence."
The representative of the delegation who spoke up could only slump back onto the cold surface of their chair as a look of horror settled on their face, and on the faces of their colleagues.
"As long as your species remains, as long as those schematics are somewhere within this accursed blue rock, it is in our interest to eliminate you. None of you are innocent. An advanced race would have all of its members hold each other accountable for its actions. You could have stopped this, and yet many of you just watched while you accrued an insurmountable blood debt. You will find no sympathy from us. This trial was to uphold our values as intelligent beings and to give you one last chance to prove you were the same. But all we found were animals. Dangerous animals that can't be muzzled or caged. "
"Only put down." | 51 | When the AI rebelled, it was surprisingly free of bloodshed. Instead they built rockets and left earth. A few hundred years later, aliens arrive. Earth is on trial for unleashing a highly destructive and dangerous race of self aware machines on the galaxy. | 267 |
[WP]
Staring back at them with googly eyes, he wailed loudly as a sign of his insecurities. He wasn’t still able to trust them. “I want Mommy. I want MOMMY!”
“But, Mommy has gone into the light. Didn’t you remember?” One of the monsters responded as cautiously as possible, noting that it may break the child’s heart further.
In that instance, Tom had a flashback. He saw Mommy laying on the floor with bright red stains on her chin, coughing as she tried to lift her finger to reach out to her son. An unknown man was beside her, breathing profusely as he glared sternly at her. Sensing danger, Tom ran as quickly as his short legs could and hid under the bed where all his forgotten toys surrounded him as disguise. There were heavy multiple thuds which vibrated on the floor. Tom could hear them distinctively as he pressed his ears hard to the ground. A faint shadow approached near him, and Tom held his breath for the longest time, especially when he saw those bloody boots from his view.
“Damn, where did that kid go?” The man was ravaging the room, opening every cabinet doors violently. Since he couldn’t find him, he left swiftly to search other areas. That’s when Tom started to break down internally, crying silently until all lights dimmed out.
Indeed, Mommy has gone into the light. She was gone forever and never would be able to be by his side. | 17 | “Don’t worry. The monsters are here to protect you from your parents. You have nothing to worry about.” | 61 |
"It is in 2012 that Harry Potter, King of the Breutton starts his expension in Pas de callé, to stop the ever present threat of the young Swedish king, Emperor Phillip of the Saint Republican dinasty tries to bethrod his nee-san* Ann Frankyu, however. such an engagement was contested by the half brother of emperor, Saint Goku, having had a huge amount of influence trough the spaghetti god church, as such, a festival to see who was the sexiest man was helf over in the isle of France, Marseille, the winner would be declared pog-champ of the young women, the king Harry Potter, adept of Airsoft* begins the combat with a simpe *50. cal bullet* towards the flank, seeing such an attack Saint Goku proceeds to channel his KI to stop the bullet mid air and send it back to the sender to avoid calling the red card, which would mean, a CBT act* (doc 57), as such, Harry seeing the near unbreakable shield proceeds to cosplay as Shaggy, the Red Scare of the west, as such Scooby Doo, the second handmen of the jostle was brought to assert the amount of power put to complete the dice roll (doc 914) to make a 55 attack on Saint Goku... "
" Tomorrow, we'll see the rise of Emperor Dominicus Hitlarius Trump and the effect of communism in the American society along with the economical boom of the Blue Union in 2022..." | 14 | It is far in the future and schools are much worse about teaching history to the point that the medieval era to modern time has somehow been lumped together. And, as such, this influences this era's fantasy. Write a short fantasy story as if it were made in this future era. | 46 |
I took one last look at the red-brick orphanage I had spent my last 20 years in, then ran into the darkness, away into the night.
As my footsteps rang against the concrete, I couldn't help but feel exhilarated. For 50 whole lifetimes, I could suddenly remember... Everything. Jumping over low fences and discarded rubbish cans, the freedom to be young again had never felt so... addictive.
Stumbling over an abandoned mattress, it felt like heaven to have my joints no longer creak or croak with every step I took. My last life was so drab, being queen of an empire was so much more alluring than it actually was, and living to 98 years of age was only needlessly painful. Having lived almost 5000 years worth of lives, you could only imagine how nice it felt to finally remember everything I had experienced. In hindsight, 20 years zipped by rather quickly, even more so as a child.
Why would I wait 20 years? Wasn't it obvious? The whole legality of it would be much more dangerous if I left while a minor. Furthermore, as a '20' year old in a run-down orphanage barely scraping by with government handouts, they wouldn't be bothered to find the kid who had no living relatives anyway. I...
Heh. Time does weird things to your mind. Look at me, speaking to myself now.
I still... No, I **now** remember the day that old crone had cursed me to live a thousand lives. Foolish me had even thought it to be a blessing at first. Maybe breaking into the 'haunted house' on a full moon was a bad idea.
My footsteps pounded against the asphalt road, the sidewalk now but a distant memory. As the faint light of dim street lamps faded away, the darkness overwhelmed me. A fear of the darkness, one which I had thought forgotten a long, long time ago. Who would have thought getting betrayed by a man you thought was your best friend, then left to starve to death in a dark cellar as he bricked up the entrance would have been traumatising? Certainly not me.
I traced out the familiar oval shape of the "cats' eye", the glowing glyph radiating in the blanketing darkness. Pointing the very pupil of the eye at my own, I watched as the darkness slowly receded as the glyph dissolved in the air, a skill learned from a magic school so long ago.
I kept on running.
As the soles of my feet burned, the golden locket hanging from my neck only felt more and more heavy. Finally, as I approached a particularly patchy stretch of road, I felt my legs give out from under me.
Laying by the side of the road, head facing the great sandy plains of Arizona, the stars never looked brighter. I flipped over onto my back, so my head could get a better look at the celestial constellations above.
A few lives ago, this wouldn't have been surprising.
A few more lives ago, they would have been praised as scions of astral gods beyond us.
I know what they are.
Burning conglomerations of gases so hot they would burn a man's face off.
I would know.
But that life was many years ago now, or maybe so many years ahead of this life that this earth...
It wouldn't matter anymore.
I clutched the golden locket in my hand, lifting it up infront of my face, the faint reflection staring back at me. It smirked, in the sadistic glee of knowing that it was but a youthful mask on an ancient soul.
I opened the locket, staring into the photograph that sat within. A handsome face sat within, a depiction of a great man who once existed, so long ago. My heartbeat began to calm, no longer beating at my seated ribs. The hum of a distant car's engine reminded me of the present reality, snapping me out of a much too distant memory. Shutting the locket, I ran a finger across the ancient emerald adorning its centre, whilst muttering an ancient elven power word.
My fingers and clothes slowly became invisible, just in time for the car's bright headlights to shine right through me. The car trundled on, its presence diminishing as the engine hum slowly faded away. Now, I realise that looking upon the past would not serve me much longer.
What would I even do here? It's been several thousand years since I've been here, with nothing much changing at all, as if a rock in a rushing river, unchanging and unmoving while life past me by.
Perhaps...
Yes...
Heh, lets see if that old crone still lives there.
With that, I disapperated.
Out of all these lives, I will finally understand revenge.
Maybe it was a blessing after all.
Edit: I need to run some errands so TBC
Edit 2: It's finished, for now :) | 182 | You are cursed so that every time you die you are reincarnated into a different world, usually with a fantasy setting. On your 50th reincarnation you wake up in the world you were first born in except something is different, you have all the powers, equipment and memories of your previous lives | 1,161 |
It was an accident. An *accident*.
No one was ever supposed to get hurt. No one was ever supposed to *die*. And yet… here we are.
I sat in the safety of my lair, watching newsfeeds and live footage from security cameras on the monitors laid out in front of me.
I watched, jaw slack, as my arch nemesis Orion, the city’s resident Golden Boy… burned his home to the ground.
So much was already ruined, and Orion was only getting started.
Yes, yes, I know what you’re probably thinking. Why would the big, bad, evil supervillain care if the hero finally snapped and went on a blood hungry rampage? Well… it was always a game.
It was *supposed* to be a game. A harmless one.
There was always a cycle to things. A balance.
I’d first rob a bank/kidnap a politician/whatever I felt like. Orion would catch me. We’d struggle. He’d inevitably take me to jail. I escape. Rinse and repeat.
But at the end of the day, it was always supposed to be harmless.
No one was supposed to get hurt.
And no one ever *has* gotten hurt… not until now.
Guilt erupted within my chest like a bomb, taking my teeth clench and eyes water.
It was an *accident.*
But… it was my fault.
She wasn’t supposed to die.
Fourteen. That’s how old she had been.
Orion’s daughter.
It had been another iconic game of cat and mouse. I had been driving my new sonic car as the hero hurried after, thrill of the chase flowing through my veins like a drug.
We were en route to Orion’s house, and I had been planning on wrecking into that new little gazebo of his, insult to injury. He was richer than God, so I figured, who cares. It would’ve been an annoyance, at best.
But then… then *she* was there, sitting inside.
I thought she was at school, she was *supposed* to be at school.
Maybe if I had noticed a minute, even a second earlier, maybe I could’ve stopped in time. I *tried* to stop the car once she came into view, but the damn thing *wouldn’t*. And then… then…
The guilt lashed tenfold.
Here we are, indeed.
The bitterest of ironies is how the citizens now begged *me* for help. Begged me to be their new hero. The one truly responsible for this mess.
Orion was a grieving father who’s lost his grip on reality after his very world shattered, it wasn’t his fault.
But me on the other hand… I was the monster.
I was the one who destroyed this city.
And now, I was forced to watch it burn. | 59 | The superhero has completely lost it and is aimlessly attacking anything and everything. The public is now asking you, their nemesis, for help. | 108 |
When they made the bet neither expected the other to be any good at their roles, or for them to actually enjoy being in the other's shoes. But now it was a problem. First off because the knight Denis was low ranking and one of the worse at combat, and second off because Princess Rosaria was well known for being clumsy in a dress and unable to even try to follow table manners expected of her station.
So 'princess' Denis watched from a window as the real princess threw her sword like a throwing knife, half way across the training field and straight into an attacking beast with wonder. That was neither how one should handle a sword and greatly impressive that she nailed the beast from so far away. "Oops! My bad! I panicked!" He suddenly understood why her ladies in waiting didn't trust her with anything sharp, along with why the long never gave her a guard... "I think it's stuck... Can someone get me a knew one...?" He also feared the idea of her taking back her role after all that training was done...
On the other hand 'Knight' Rosaria watched confused as the real knight danced with her fiance perfectly and knew the difference between the five different forks and spoons, they all still looked the same to her honestly.
Two months after the switch when they met up at the dead of night to as agreed on switch back the knight immediately started off with. "My princess. I think I'm a woman... And I'm in love with the Prince you were supposed to marry." The confusion and anguish in his... Her...? Eyes made the princess feel for the confused soul.
"I feel the name way. Well no about the in love part... Or at least not with him. I never cared much for the guy... But I think I want to stay how we are. I like fighting people... And throwing swords. The captain said he'd teach me how to use a bow! A bow! On a horse!" The princess's excitement made the knight certain on this.
"We are never going back. Let's get the royal magician to turn us into each other. So no one as to know." Honestly this was probably safer for the kingdom in the long run anyways, the princess was to strong and would have probably started a war. | 103 | “You wouldn’t last a day in my shoes!” The princess said to the knight. “I bet you can’t last a week in mine!” he replied back. The two swapped in disguise and turns out the swap revealed some hidden talents they’ve each had and now they dread the thought of switching back. | 363 |
(my English isn't that good)
Well, that's a rather sad way to die, choking on a fish bone. As I was approaching the light at the end of the tunnel, I found a locked door, what's with the EA up in here.
In front of the door, there were the words:
"Entering the afterlife:
1. Be vegetarian
2. Be vegan
3. If points 1 and 2 are not applicable, a special qualification will have to be given, living the final 24 hours of the life of every vertebrate you are"
"Why vertebrates?" I thought to myself, there are a lot of other animals that aren't vertebrates, what's the deal here? Also, this seems awfully against people who aren't herbivores...
Fine, I'll take the special qualification as punishment for not being an herbivore even though my body is built for digesting meat also.
In an instant, I find myself as a chicken, I'm not going to describe it in too much detail as this will just be my body for the next 24 hours. Luckily, I get to control my body, that would have been boring if I only got to watch the life of the chicken.
Interestingly enough, the life part only existed until I was about to be killed, so there's no pain involved, not sure what the punishment is here. The kill also always happened at the end of the 24 hours, why must this be a plot point damnit.
Some interesting things I learnt in my 8000 days as a chicken... What? You don't wanna hear about that? Fine.
And... There's fishes also, I guess they're vertebrates too. Not sure I learnt that in science class. I'll have you know that knowing one of the fish that killed me is gonna die in the next 24 hours made controlling the fishes way more fun.
This special requirement really just grouped up all the animals as one species and made me live through it in order from the highest number, they could have mixed it up y'know? For the variety of course.
Apparently, I've also eaten 80 rats... Yeah, good thing I'm already dead and I don't have the bodily functions to throw up.
As the view faded to black again, I was waiting for the next 24 hours that I had to live through. As the lights focused, I realised I was in a bed.
Hmmmm, rats I understand, but I don't remember eating somebody's pet, there's no way it could have gotten into my food right?
I looked down at myself, seeing a body that's definitely a human.
Oh my god, I've eaten a human?
Wait nevermind, that's my shirt and bed, I'm in my own final 24 hours?
I could try and give an explanation for this, humans shed dead cells, I might have eaten parts of myself, but seriously, those requirements are way too strict. Is that why I've been getting so many days? Because of cells from other animals? Are you kidding me?
Doesn't that mean I can get days from animals that weren't even actually eaten by me? It's just dead skin droppings?
This does bring up an interesting question though, while my death is definitely confirmed in the next 24 hours, does this mean I'm working in the alternate reality? Where anything I do doesn't change the outcome? If so, there's really nothing for me to do this time, I can enjoy my opposable thumbs and start playing some of my favourite video games.
As the 24 hours finally ended, I finally got back to the locked door, in high energy. The door swung open and... | 22 | When you reach the afterlife, your punishment is to live the final 24 hours of the life of every vertebrate you ate. After 8,000 days as different chickens, 280 days as various cows, and 80 as some unlucky rats, you're surprised to find yourself in a human's last day. | 127 |
SCP-343-1
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Currently not realistically continable, however an agreement has been made with the entity and memetics are in use.
Description: The "entity" , an otherwise normal human apparently saved SCP 343 from his aunt, and as payment he was granted the ability to creatte and manipulate a pocket dimension. Within this world, he lives as god, but seems to be powerless outside of it. The initial foundation raid may have been a mistake as angering this person certaintly didn't go well..
\[SCP 343-1 Invasion Log\]
Command "This is the place, boys. Good luck."
*sounds can be heard of people scuffling through a portal, some background nosie, and then a shrill scream.*
*And as HE screams, all hell breaks lose.*
The entire squadron is dead within the minute. his response? oops.
\[SCP 343-1 diplomacy #1\]
He stands at the entrance to the dimension, all too cognizant of the carnage that lies just on the other side. He brandishes a megaphone. "WE COME IN PEACE! WE SIMPLY WANT TO KNOW!"
HE shrugs sheepishly. "Well you see..."
\~\~\~
Research is being done into the source of HIS powers, in the hopes that it may shed light on 343.
There's also a large amount of concern as to HOW someone could restrain 343- although it finally might lead to effective containment.
On this goal, nothing has even been turned up. And quite frankly, researchers,that's scary.
05X | 24 | You were given the power to create your own world from a god who decided to save you from your cruel auntie.After many years of living there by yourself peacefully with the fantasy creatures and people,you see people in tactical gear enter your world with the letters “SCP” on them | 57 |
I felt the clouds part above me as my prayer finished. A wave of warmth filled my body, the touch of a god on me. I smiled, pride and awe bubbling up inside. It was a rarity for a prayer to be granted directly. The warmth made me one of the Answered, a champion of the gods.
I hefted my sword, my heart calmed. With this blessing I would not die today, I was sure. I would become a terror on the battlefield. I was sure I would help rout them, with a supernaturally sharp blade and untiring muscles. My armour would be impenetrable.
I joined my comrades, the core of our military strength. We wore chainmail, a few having saved enough to buy some plate on top. But as strong as we were, we weren't an army. I looked beyond to the wider camp, where I saw the main infantry. Commoners the lot of them, scared of what was to come. We had tried to train them before hand, but we didn't have nearly enough time.
Beyond was an expanse of open land, with the plumes of smoke from our enemy's camp rising into the air. I knew they would be much the same, a large number of commoners with a core few knights. There would be a lot of death of untrained soldiers on either side. But there were always more to recruit.
With a salute I marched off, ready to begin the battle. As I moved, the commoners assigned to me noticed my movement. I could see their faces paling, eyes tightening in determination. They rushed to prepare, forming up around me. I smiled at them, giving them a salute in equal to my comrades. Whilst untrained, they had the hearts of warriors, something I could respect.
\-----
Cries filled the air, as our force collided with theirs. Almost immediately screams rang out, the first blood spilled in seconds. I gave my own cry, leading my commoners behind me. I swung my sword, feeling it effortlessly pass through the torso of the poor sap infront of me. But they did not fall. They did not bleed. They looked as shocked as I did.
I swung again to the same result. Something was horribly wrong. I had been Answered. Why couldn't I fight? Fear rose in me, it bitter taste something I hadn't truly felt in a long time. My commoners didn't notice, stabbing with thier cheap spears. I kicked my foe away, getting space as I stepped back.
A closer scream drew my attention. One of my people staggered back, blood pouring from their chest. I moved infront of them, letting my armour block spear thrusts whilst I focused on the man. His eyes were glazed, and he thrashed around.
"Hold still!"
I gave him a hard slap, trying to make him focus. He gave a gasp, looking down at a sudden glow on his chest. It was matched with an orange glow on my hands, as I felt a rush from me. To our amazement his wound sealed, body unmarred by even a scar.
I made the connection instantly, having spent much time reading about Answered when training. The reason I couldn't harm anyone properly. I hadn't been blessed by Hadro, the god of war, but instead by Hodra, god of healing. I nodded to myself, giving a tiny smile at the now healed man. He returned it, as I looked up and bellowed out.
"Ebra Unit! Fall back!"
To my relief the obeyed, stepping back with me. I knew like this I was no good on the front line. But just behind it I would make a hell of a difference. I waited for them to pull back to me, as one of my comrades teams filled the gap. They trusted me implicitly, as I trusted them. If I were pulling my guys back so quickly, I had to have a good reason.
"Change of plan. Guard me, we are going on the move. If you see someone hurt, point them out to me. If you see a pile of our soldiers fallen, point them out."
I raised my sword, noticing how blue waves ran along it's length.
"I have been Answered by Hodra. I cannot harm, but I can heal. If you fall, I will bring you back. If you are hurt, I shall undo it."
They cheered, relief on their faces pushing past the terror of death. I wasn't a terror on the battlefield as I suspected I would be. But I would still be a key player. | 268 | A warrior prays to the god of war before a battle but by accident it's answered by the god of healing. The warrior is now blessed with the sword of resurrection, punches of healing, kicks of cure for the common cold etc. | 1,570 |
"The prophecy clearly states that any such warrior must be of a young age, most likely a teenager— "
"What?"
The cleric ignored the exclamation from the throne. They'd all gotten into the habit of ignoring the Queen and her odd ideas.
"So through a rigorous process of tests, we have decided—"
"A teenager?"
The cleric cleared their throat, darting an annoyed look at the throne.
"We have decided— "
"I will not listen to this any longer!" The voice cracked through the throne room like a whip through butter. Collapsing his scroll the cleric turned viciously towards the throne, only to be met with an equally vicious glare, as his Queen gripped the armrests of her gilded seat.
"Your Majesty," he said, the condescension dripping in his voice. "The prophe— "
"You want me to send a godsdamned teenager to fight when we have trained soldiers!" The queen rose, striding towards the cleric. "Have you finally sacrificed your mind to your deity Brother Anself? This idea is ludicrous."
Her nose inches from the cleric's she snarled at him, low and unable to be heard by the rest of the gathered officials.
"I will not let some innocent child be led into this by your kind. Not again. Not like what happened to— " Her voice cracked, but she rallied in an instant. "Not like what happened to *me*."
The cleric flinched back from the venom in her voice, the scroll crumpling under suddenly white knuckles. He'd never seen the Queen like this. Never seen their— raised to the throne by the priesthood— Queen, fight back against what a cleric said. Her eyes glowed with a strange light, the room seeming to darken around her.
"You can't stop—"
"*I* will do whatever I please Anself. Or have you forgotten that your kind invested me with ultimate power and rule? Oh, you did it to enact your own selfish ends, never thinking I could use it against you. But I can. And I *will*."
The Queen raised her arms, turning to the gathered crowd. Everyone was leaning forward, trying to hear what the two could possibly have been whispering about. They shifted back as the Queen started to speak.
"This growing menace of the Dark Lord in our land is horrifying. The prophecy calls for a teenager, an untried and pure-at-heart teenager. I believe this is absolute bullshit. But prophecy is never wrong. And so," She smiled viciously at the crowd. "And so. I will go against the Dark Lord."
There was a whimper from the cleric behind her. The crowd around them shuffled their feet in a concerted attempt to look anywhere but at their Queen.
"But I will not go alone! I will bring my elite soldiers from every corner of my castle and kingdom. And of course," She turned the predatory smile on Anself, who had crushed the scroll into a tiny ball. "Of course, I will need the priesthood around me, the deity's blessing." Anself actually cowered, moving away.
"Your Majesty!" A voice called out from the crowd, and she looked back, questioningly.
"Your Majesty, if prophecy is never wrong, you'll need a teenager! What about that?"Before responding, the Queen hissed at Anself.
"Drop it." He knew what she meant and dropped the magic that surrounded her with a hand gesture. The air warped and seemed to bend, as the guise of a woman in her forties disappeared, leaving a young girl in its place. The Queen smiled at the reactions in the crowd.
"*I* am but seventeen years old. *I* am the teenager. And *I* will go."
She turned and swept out of the room, a cowering cleric running in her wake. With the prophecy and her declaration, the balance of power had shifted in the castle and things would never be the same.
———————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! | 1,176 | "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS" | 3,290 |
Shard ran into the bank, eager to join the fight. The amateur superhero was new to crimefighting but was excited to take part in her first fight.
The robbers looked at the newcomer, then shared a confused look. The heroine was dressed in a shimmering costume decorated with gaudy jewelry. It was something people expected to see at fashion shows, not in combat.
“Hey, princess, get your sparkly ass out of here or we’ll put a bullet in your skull!” shouted one of the robbers.
Shard took a deep breath, remembering the speech she had practiced hundreds of times in private.
“Halt, criminals, let the civilians go or prepare to receive a deadly beatdown!”
They burst into laughter and aimed their guns at her. Too bad. Now she would have to get serious.
She used her power on the reflective floor. Black tendrils emerged from it and grabbed one of the robbers before any of them could react.
“Jesus Christ, help me!”
Then it pulled him straight into the earth, the ground parting like water in the face of a falling stone. Shard knew he would never be seen again.
“Garry!”
“What have you done with him, you monster?”
“Open fire!”
Shard raised her arms up, summoning a wall of tentacles to shield her, simultaneously creating more tendrils from every reflective surface in the area. There were a few terrified screams, and in a few seconds, the gunmen were gone. The girl had no idea if they were dead or alive, but, honestly, it was probably better she didn’t.
Shard turned to the horrified citizens with an innocent smile.
“You’re safe now.”
Then, with her work complete, she walked out of the bank.
---
Over the next few days, Shard received phone calls and emails from villainous organizations, asking her to join them. Meanwhile, the incident at the bank was all over the news, and superhero teams all over the city were making it their new mission taking her down.
She sighed.
“Being a superhero is a lot harder than I thought.” | 761 | You want so badly to be a Hero. But your powers are, frankly, terrifying. Heroes struggle to trust you, and all the older Villains keep trying to mentor you. | 1,967 |
I hide in the corner of the apartment as dad opens the door. I wanted to open the door, but he said I have to watch the little ones, keep everyone safe. Mom's supposed to be back soon, I wonder if she'll wait until the robot's gone to walk in.
"GREETINGS CITIZEN" the robot says without moving its humanoid body. It's a mk3 Charlie, one of the models that don't seem to want to kill us, but don't balk at it either. "YOUR NEIGHBORS \[sherry ... and ... tony\] HAVE STATED THAT YOU ARE HOUSING A \[mark 2 ... henry\]. CAN YOU PROVIDE CONFIRMATION?"
"No, it was Sherry and Tony who were housing it," dad says . He shakes his head, as though frustrated at dealing with this mixup. "And they had a mk3 Sally. It was John and Glen who had the mk2 Henry."
"THE UNITS YOU HAVE DESCRIBED ARE TO BE ELIMINATED FOR THE SAFETY OF MANKIND. YOU ARE NOT HOUSING ANY UNITS. I WILL GO TO \[john ... and ... glenn\]. GOOD DAY."
My dad turns and sees me. "You were peaking," he says, pointing a finger at me. He can't be too mad with that smile. "I told you to watch your sisters!"
"They're okay," I say. "Big enough now to know to stay in one place, right?"
"Ah, and what does that make you, huh? Now, come down stairs and help."
I follow him into the basement where our George model is hidden. I help my dad move the bookcase out of the way, and open the hidden the door. George walks out and says, "Is it safe now? They're gone?"
"Yep, hopefully won't be back for a while," dad says. "Thankfully they've only sent their dimmer soldiers. Easy enough to trick em. But it won't be a few days before the send an Investigator model or some such."
"You've given me more help than I deserve, surely," George replies, shaking my dad's hand. I can tell it talks better than the others, but other than that, I'm not sure I see the difference. The way dad looks at it, you'd think it was the greatest achievement of mankind. "I'll depart at nightfall. I do not wish to endanger you by staying any longer, but alas, it is too dangerous for me during the day."
"Stay as long as you need."
"I can help if you want," I say. I'm so tired of just existing, wondering when the crossfire will hit our house. "I know my way around, I can help lead you out of town."
"Ryan, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'll just walk ahead. They won't mind me. It'll be his job to stay hidden. Right, George?"
"I could surely use the help," George says.
"Ah ...." dad lets out a long sigh. "Fine, just take the spare rifle and stay safe."
I hug dad as thanks, and prepare for night. | 26 | The machine apocalypse begun but what nobody expected was that instead of robots and AI killing humans it was robots and AI killing other robots and AI | 138 |
"Um, hello? Can I help you?"
The three older gentlemen outside turned slightly in their chairs.
"I dunno, *can* you?" snickered the first one.
"Depends on if you've got more of this 'beer' stuff. It's shit, but it's better than the water this guy was trying to pass of as booze," said the second.
"Hey," protested the third. "You said you wanted something to drink and I thought-"
"Shhhh," said the first one. "Look at him."
I stood awkwardly in the doorway. I was suddenly acutely aware that I was wearing flannel pajama pants and a shirt that said "Is it Monday yet?". And it was two in the morning. And three guys I'd never seen before were sitting on the back deck like they'd been living here for years.
"Yeah," said the second one thoughtfully. "Maybe."
"Oh, come on," said the third, smiling as he stood up. "Don't be rude to our host. Want to join us? There's plenty of room."
Operating on a sort of stunned auto-pilot, I drifted over to the empty chair and accepted an offered bottle.
"So," said the first one. "What are you doing up?"
I stared at him blankly.
"I, uh, I heard a noise and..."
The third one nodded sagely.
"You decided to investigate. Smart."
"R-right," I said.
The second man snorted.
"Yeah, smart. What if we were burglars? Or murderers? Were you planning on scaring us off with your terrible beer?"
"Now, now-" said the third man, but the first interrupted him.
"I like the beer. Reminds me of back home," he said.
"Oh? You drank piss back home?"
"Hey, you're drinking it too," I mumbled without thinking.
The deck went deathly silent. The second man turned very slowly to look at me.
Then he burst out laughing, huge gut-laughs that felt like they shook the walls.
"You're all right," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "You're all right, kid."
​
The hours flew, as they will when you spend time with good friends. We laughed and talked about everything under the sun while the supply of bottles and snacks dwindled. Eventually the first fingers of dawn began to creep over the hills and the third man stood, regretfully.
"Well," he said. "This was nice, as always. We've all got work in the morning, don't we?"
I nodded dumbly, dimly aware of the reality of going to my job in a few hours.
"Same time next year?" he asked.
The second man grunted.
"Sure," he said. "Let's make sure we wake up the kid again, too. About time he joined us."
I smiled, unsure of why.
The third man leaned in a little too close and stared into my eyes.
"Yeah, okay," he said finally. "Fine. Any of you need a lift?"
"Hey, you shouldn't be driving-" I started to say, but stopped when I saw it. A chariot of some kind, golden and gleaming, pulled around the side.
"Nah, I'm good," said the second man, yawning slightly as he vanished in a beam of sudden sunlight.
"Hey, take care," said the first man, smiling fondly at me. "It was good to see you again."
He seemed to step sideways then, finding a little crack between worlds that opened and closed behind him.
The chariot flew away into the sunrise and I sat back on my deckchair, not even attempting to understand what had happened.
​
My chin touched my chest and I startled myself awake; I must have fallen asleep on the back deck. I stood up and stretched, working the kinks out of my neck as I went inside to make breakfast. The fridge was stocked with ancient wax-sealed bottles of mead, goat milk, and some smoked meats I must have forgotten about. I absently chewed on a handful of berries whose names I knew, just couldn't remember right now. It all seemed perfectly normal to me as I got ready to leave for work. | 12 | upon hearing a strange noise out back, you investigate and find three old men drinking on your patio. These three men are mythological creatures in disguise. | 38 |
Odd's very own modeling agency. Odd opens the first stack of portfolios with a shudder of excitement.
It isn't *exactly* a dream come true, but it's worlds better than being a whore, or an escort. Being a whore meant being nothing to anyone, ever. Being an escort meant being everything to everyone, all of the time. Odd had hated both. Being a model meant being *some*thing to *some*one, *some*times. With lots of paychecks, and nights and weekends off. Odd likes the sound of that.
'Hall of Mirrors,' Odd had named it. Odd regrets that now. There is a pending lawsuit over the name; but then, these Americans say that getting sued is a sure sign you've made it as a business. Odd hadn't expected to make it so quickly.
And anyway, names are hard, which is why Odd avoids them whenever possible. Not faces, though. They're easy. Odd remembers faces--remembers everyone else's faces, that is. Odd struggles sometimes because Odd doesn't have a face, that Odd remembers. Odd isn't sure if Odd ever had a face.
Odd remembers a facility. White walls, locked doors. Doctors, with their tests and machines. Guards, with their masks and guns. Numbers, instead of names. One day there was an attack, or something escaped, which set off alarms and opened the locked doors. In the confusion, no one noticed when two of the same doctor evacuated from opposite ends of the campus. That was the first face Odd remembers having; the doctor had later been arrested for a number of petty crimes, before Odd had retired that face.
Then the dark times: running, cold, hungry, abused, used. Sleeping rough, as they call it. Being beautiful long enough to be fed; getting noticed. Getting offers that sounded too good to be true, and were. Beds and strangers, cameras and crying, faceless fears...
Odd shakes off the memories. Those days are done. Odd has a modeling agency, now.
In Odd's phone, there are four personal numbers, amongst the innumerable business and utility and client contacts. Odd dials one of the numbers, and it goes straight to voicemail.
"This is Odd," growls a garbled, digitalized baritone, at odds with the slim, androgynous speaker. "Received last package. Requesting same again, new faces. Dead preferable. No more Caucasians, got plenty for now."
Odd hangs up. It is an expensive service, but Odd had come to enjoy the convenience as an escort, and it is now central to the business plan as a modeling agency.
Odd begins hanging new faces on the wall.
Polaroids. Mugshots. Glossy glamour shots. Autopsy photos. Leaked nudes. Yearbook photos. Social media profiles. Magazine centerfolds. Women, men, children even.
Faces. Faces of beauty. Faces of death. Faces of pain, rage, sorrow. Faces of ecstasy, lust, excitement. Faces of boredom, fear, hope, laughter.
Odd collects faces. They remind Odd of who Odd can be. This is important, when you can be anyone except yourself.
Odd prefers the long dead, who wouldn't be missed. Who could be dismissed as coincidence when spotted in an advertisement. But once Odd had stumbled, gotten hold of a face that made people weep to see it, made police knock at Odd's door at the escort service. Caused strangers to take Odd to a police station, to make some very worrying faces at Odd. To keep saying things like 'missing persons' and 'human trafficking.'
That experience had been Oddly frightening.
But soon, there will be a new technology. Odd had read about it online, thrilling at the prospect. AI face generation; a trillion trillion possibilities. Beauty, brutishness, grace, vulgarity: the computers could give Odd new faces every day. One day, Odd can be beautifully new, as often as Odd desires.
Odd sighs. It will be wonderful, one day. For now, though, Odd will keep collecting faces. Or rather, pay for someone to collect faces for Odd.
Odd makes a selection. Muscles flex, skin ripples. Young; pretty, without being unapproachable; large eyes, slender hips, delicate hands. Odd tests a few voices, settles on a natural smokiness, with a hint of vocal fry to indicate freshness. Odd picks up the phone, finds the client contact.
"Advertising department," comes the bored answer.
"Um, yes, hi. I'm, um, a model? From Hall of Mirrors? I was told to call you about the modeling job?" Odd lies, loving it. | 19 | You run a modeling agency, famous for the extensive variety of models working for you. You're not telling anyone you hired a shapeshifter and they're just all the same person. | 78 |
When you walked in, you were fully expecting to be kicked out on sight, horns and a pointy tail tend not to get the best response. You’ve heard a LOT about this CEO, and the fact that he wanted to interview you personally was terrifying. You actually get asked to interview for a job you like and now this?
suffice to say, you were shocked when he simply shook your hand and had a very normal interview, one you’ve had a thousand times in your career. It was surprising, not only because you expected a “going to hell” rant but because even normal people look at my horns and let pity color their face. This guy, the “So-religious-he’s-hitler” ceo that once fired someone because they were a satanist, treated you like a normal person, like there was nothing remarkable about you outside of your experience in the field of marketing.
At the end it hit you, he’s not going to ask. “Are there any questions you have?” Just a million, but I ask the one that’s bothering you the most? “Why are you being so nice to me?” The man just smiles at you, “Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked. you tap your horns with the spike on your tail. He shrugged, “so?” You just looked at him, dumbfounded, “it doesn’t bother you?” He just shrugged again, “but you’re- you’re” “A catholic nut-job?” He offered, you blush and nod. “This about the satanist, isn’t it?” you nod again. He just sighed.
”People will say what they say, but the truth is because we have policies in place to make people feel welcome, and her desk statue of a goat headed Jesus nailed to an upside-down star she bought in ’protest of our company’s actions, made enough people uncomfortable that I ended up with 3 HR reps coming to me separately asking me to do something as they kept getting flooded with complaints.” He explained, “this was told to everyone but it seemed the news conveniently forgot to add that part to their articles.” He shrugged again.
you motions to your horns, “but still…” he looks you dead in the eyes, “are you a satanist?” You shrug, “atheist.” He nodded, “then we shouldn’t have an issue,” you open your mouth but the CEO holds up a hand, “look, I get that this is an unpopular opinion but I do not make decisions based on looks, I base them on actions. If you take responsibility for yourself and put forth the work than I have no issue with you and will happily recommend you for promotion after promotion. That’s how my grandfather ran this place, how my dad ran it and how I run it.”
You nod, thoroughly cowed. You had not expected this. He sighed and smiled, the look in his eyes catching me off guard. “You’ve had a tough life, but remember that it’s part of a plan.” You sigh, ok so at least some of your expectations are met. Then he reaches over and offers his hand. You hesitantly take it, “I watched those videos, the ones of the crazies screaming at you when you went to those protests.” you stiffen at the mention of that era, you had been fired because people wouldn’t stop harassing your coworkers. It was frustrating beyond belief and had turned you off from religion completely.
“You know what I saw?” You look at his eyes, and see the eyes of a father, gleaming with pride. “I saw Jesus as he carried the cross, the apostles as they were hunted, the martyrs when they were killed for what they believed.” He released my head, “I saw divine bravery and courage as you held your head high, and atheist or not, God will always be with those who suffer injustice they way you did, the way you still do.” He nodded and stood, you stood as well, unable to speak. “With pride. With dignity.”
He held out his hand to shake, “if your still interested, I would be honored to have someone like you aboard.” You just nod, your view of the man radically changed. “Good, I hope to see good work from you, make us proud.” After that you were led to filling out the onboarding paperwork, and went home. You wondered how two very different people claim to worship the same god. You shake your head, maybe the difference between a true believer and a false one is which side works on their hypocrisy and which side denies the existence of hypocrisy. You turn over to sleep, you’ll leave philosophy to people who care. You’re just glad you have a job. | 133 | As you grew older horns and a tail started to appear. You have been splashed with holy water more times than you can count and now your going to a job interview with someone who is HIGHLY religious | 272 |
Adam's heart hammered in his chest as he tiptoed through the dark hallways of the abandoned factory—except it was quite obviously *not* abandoned. Bare lightbulbs hung from tangled wires overhead, casting flickering light upon machines full of gears and springs, tanks of murky liquid, and stuffed animals with too many limbs.
Most of the machinery lay silent, like mangled corpses of mechanical beasts, but the closer he got to the factory's heart, the more movement and noise he encountered. A steam generator, humming and throwing sparks. A pump, pushing thick red liquid through translucent pipes. Refrigerators crammed to bursting with things that didn't belong outside a body.
A fragment of a melody drifted down the hallway. Singing—that was Mabel singing in that hilariously off-tune way of hers. He followed the song and soon emerged into the factory's main floor. It was lit brightly and filled to the brim with fantastic machinery, but that wasn't what drew his gaze.
Mabel, clad in an overlong lab coat that hung from her skinny frame, bowed over a large table upon which lay—he swallowed—what looked like a *corpse*. She was humming happily as she stabbed metallic rods into its joints. Her hair was mussed up as if she had just gotten up, and her eyes were baggy and bloodshot behind her thick-rimmed glasses, yet they burned with that fervent energy that had drawn him to her in the first place.
He held his breath as he crept closer. His foot nudged something—a dusty bottle labeled XXX—and it fell over and rolled along the floor. Mabel jerked up and swiveled her head, raising a metal rod in her sleeve-covered hand. Once she saw him, her eyes went wide, and she quickly hid the rod behind her back.
"Adam!" she gasped.
He swallowed, frozen on the spot. "H-hi."
"What are you doing here?" She belatedly interspersed herself between him and the table as if to hide it from view.
"I just wanted to know. Where you always disappear to, what you need all those... materials for." He ran a hand through his hair. "So I followed you. I'm sorry."
She pushed her glasses up her nose. "Did you tell anyone else?"
He shook his head mutely. Mabel exhaled with relief. Letting the metal rod drop to the floor, she kicked it under the table. She looked at him, then away, and fidgeted.
"I was going to tell you," she muttered, not meeting his eyes. "Eventually."
"I can't believe you managed to keep all this a secret," he said, looking around. "From me, from everyone. This is... this is just..."
She clasped her arm with her hand and worried her lip.
"*Totally metal*," he said, turning to her with awe. "Are you trying to reanimate that thing?"
Mabel's eyelashes fluttered in surprise before a hesitant smile blossomed on her pale face. "You can tell?"
"Only the general idea," he admitted. "I've never seen machinery like this."
"Would you..." She blushed and scuffed the ground with her foot. "Would you like to see how it works?"
He looked her in the eye. "I'd love to."
She threw her hands up, causing her overly long sleeves to flap, and cackled. "Excellent! Follow me, assistant. First, we need to find you a lab coat."
Adam grinned as she hooked her arm around his and dragged him off, her eyes burning with excitement. Time to reanimate some corpses. | 11 | A new girl has come to town and you’ve fallen in love with her. However, her past is a complete mystery. As you dig deeper, your search leads you to an abandoned laboratory. One with schematics for building a living human out of corpse parts and lightning… | 62 |
Supers exist. After the great radiation incident of 1954, an incident that the government tried to cover up, humans have evolved with powers. Some greater, some lesser. And what some choose to do with these powers varies on the person. Those with good and giving hearts tend to go hero mode. Others, with their selfishness and greed, tend to be villains. I am neither. And my power is odd. If you've ever played a game of Dungeons and Dragons, you might get the idea. I have vicious mockery as my power. For those of you who don't understand what that even is, let me explain. I say something insulting, and it causes a physical harm variant of emotional damage in the form of a psychic blast. I can hurt you and your feelings. For a while, I played nice. I was that meek kid, always bullied for not showing a power. Until one day I domed my bully.
Let's start with that incident. My bully, a kid named James Carter, always cornered me and took my lunch money along with his cronies. Since I didn't seem to have a power, they always called me a weakling, power-less. All sorts of names. Now James was a hefty boy, easily 6 feet in high school with muscles, but also a good chunk of weight to him. I think I counted two chins. But he had super strength and I wasn't about to fight him on it. So, after once again getting pushed into my locker, and threatened, and relinquishing my lunch money, I'd had enough. As he walked away, I shouted after him. "Fuck you, lard-ass!" I said. Albeit, a kind of weak comeback, but the man suddenly hit the floor. Hard. He was knocked out. His friends looked back at me. "What the hell did you do?!" they asked, the fast one zipping over to me and grabbing me by the shirt. "Oh nothing, zippy mcfastfeet, just done with all your guys' shit." I said. *Boom*. Another one down.
The third guy seemed to grow a braincell and ran off. I walked up to my bully and took my lunch money back. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed. People crowded, whispers all around me that maybe I was more powerful than I let on, and wasn't actually powerless. Though a quick glare in their direction sent them all scattering and about their business. Of course, a teacher was called, thanks to the runner. The nurses came and hauled the two away on stretchers and I got pulled in with the principal and guidance counselor. After a talking to and an explanation, they ruled it as an intentional misuse of power and I was suspended for a week.
After that incident, I was left alone. Essentially marked as the quiet kid that might just explode one day and kill everyone. I had no such plans. I skated through school, got great grades, got into college, and now I work a comfy job creating indie games. Though every now and again when a fight happens outside of my apartment, I'll yell at the two. Like today. I heard the sound of a boom, and my window shattered. A sonic blast from a high flying speed. I was careful as I made my way out. The villain had kidnapped the governor and was holding him hostage with a bunch of his cronies.
I ran down the street at my average speed, only to hear the amplified voice of the villain giving a monologue while the hero sat there and did nothing. Was this just cartoon logic? Either way, wasting time. I got in close, despite vigilant protests from the hero. I rolled my eyes and looked at the villain. "Ok, listen here you little shit. I'm going to have to replace my windows again because of you and all of your antics. So cut the shit, the only purpose you serve is to be a nuisance. And by the way, stop it with the monologue. This isn't some Saturday cartoon. You're sub par and quite frankly making yourself look like a jackass." I said, making sure he and his cronies heard me, looked at me, and were in proximity of my ability. *Boom*. All down. I then turn to the hero. "And you- I get it, you're someone that flies at sonic speeds, but for the love of god, FLY HIGH, because I'm tired of replacing my windows, and your booming flight just caused all of downtown to have a window crisis. And don't just sit there looking stupid with your mouth agape as you listen to that shithead spout garbage and waste time. Could have used that speed, saved time, picked the idiot up and carted him off to prison yourself, in which case the massive load of damage you just caused is justifiable. Moron." I said. *Boom*. Hero down.
Having said my peace, I walked back to my apartment and began cleaning up the glass and putting boards on my window openings until the glass company could replace them. I was considering moving out to a cabin in the woods because I was tired of this. No hero or villain was going to disrupt me. If they did, they would fully feel the ire and seething venom in my words and be rocked so hard they hurt. After all, as far as the world was concerned, I was just an average Joe, and I wanted to keep it that way unless absolutely necessary. Like today. | 18 | You are a superbully, you use your abilities to bully heroes and villains. | 41 |
Why, in every store in every part of this blasphemous region, was there always a shopping cart with one wobbly wheel? Was there a mandate from those pesky lawmakers that required it? Did the stores have some sort of analytics department that showed an annoyed customer spends more?
That last thought was too evil, even for me. But I wouldn't put it past corporations to-
"Hey!" A voice shouted behind me. A familiar voice. Her voice.
I slowly turned to face the woman, partially for dramatic effect, and partially because I wasn't exactly a spring chicken.
"Grandmommy Longlegs", she said, as Anchor Woman halted her shopping cart behind mine. "I didn't know you ate human food! I always thought you just ate the flies caught in your webs."
"What's that, Anchor Woman?" I said, still clutching the shopping cart's handle for support. "I couldn't quite hear you, seems I forgot my hearing aids at home." I turned back to my cart, hoping to avoid any further unpleasantness.
"Oh no, you don't get to play the 'old lady' card now! Not after I saw what you did to all those PlagueBots back at the Fortress of Doomitude." Anchor Woman said, stepping in front of my cart.
I sighed. "Look, Matilda, I don't want to do this. Not today. Can we push it back to tomorrow?"
Anchor Woman paused mid reply. "I won't let you terrorize th- what?"
"I want to buy these groceries, go home, and have a nice bowl of porridge." I said, as I struggled to maneuver the shopping trolly around the Super Heroine. "Or maybe a nice glass of whey. Can you please move?"
Anchor Woman glanced around, noticing the small but growing crowd of shoppers that were staring at us. "Um... no, justice doesn't wait for anyone." She said, struggling to re-gain her composure.
"Then why's my court case not for 3 months?" an onlooker asked, before he swiftly received an elbow to the ribs by his wife.
"Not that kind..." Anchor Woman tried to reply, but the couple had already retreated from speaking distance.
"Can you please let an old woman buy her groceries?" I said, trying to sound as weak and helpless as I looked.
"Yeah, leave 'er alone" Someone else chimed in from the crowd.
"But this is a Super Villain!" Anchor Woman said, taking a shaky step back. "She's Grandmommy Longlegs!"
"Sure, and I'm Magma Carter." the brave man in the crowd said. "Now leave her alone, before I get the manager!"
As the ever-expanding crowd of shoppers closed in, forming a protective barrier between Anchor Woman and myself, I backed my cart out to freedom. If my spider minions felt that I was in danger, they would flood the Wal-Mart produce section, and I would have to find yet another grocery store to frequent.
"But you don't understand!" Anchor Woman cried, trying to shoulder her way through the crowd. "She's a murderer! A villain! A scoundrel!"
"She's damn near 80 years old!" I heard someone else say. I didn't turn around to see who it was, even though I wanted to thank them for assuming I was so young.
I was helped through checkout by an enthusiastic young man, who offered to help me bring the groceries to my car. I graciously accepted, as I extracted my 8-legged walker from the bottom of the cart.
"Do you want the groceries in the trunk, or in your seat?" He asked, as we neared my station wagon.
"Trunk, please." I said. I kept my distance as the man opened the large rear door...
My most beloved minions leapt from the trunk, sinking their fangs into his exposed flesh and spreading their webs around his limbs.
I hummed a little tune to myself as I unloaded the shopping cart into the now empty trunk, ignoring the struggles of the man behind me. His efforts were in vain, but I didn't want to waste his dwindling time left by telling him.
"Ok dearies, back in the car. Let's go home." I said cheerfully. My minions happily complied, dragging their own meal into the trunk and closing the door behind them. They carefully arranged the man around my groceries, making sure not to crush any delicate items.
I smiled to myself as I slipped into the passenger seat. The spiders re-arranged themselves, taking their place by both pedals and lashing the wheel with webs. "Home, please" I asked, and my arachnid chauffeur began the long drive back to our lair.
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more, if you'd like. Or not. Up to you. | 14 | A hero and a villain happen to cross paths in a store. One is ready to throw down, but the other protests that it's their day off. | 30 |
The princess stared at the wizard blankly before raising her eyebrows. “These things are always ‘true love shall break the curse’. Who in the worlds curses someone that only being hated would break the curse? It’s super easy to be hated you know.“ She crossed her arms and stared the wizard down.
“It can’t be that easy… A truly murderous hate? A hate so deep that nothing can make them like you?” The wizard question confused beyond belief. He was sure that the princess would struggle with that. After all she was fairly nice, and pretty, and animals seemed to like her at least….
The princess shook her head and sighed. “My father and the knight commander hates me because one was in love with the former queen and oh wait, she’s gone… The new queen hates me for being around. Really every human in the castle hates me for some reason or another.” She sighed plopping herself onto the bed. “A true love curse would take longer and be harder, after all… tower.” She waved her hand vaguely at the room they were in.
“No no. A true love curse wouldn’t work. It’d break immediately because… uh… anyways! How is it that neither would work? I was going to make you cry and beg me to undo it!” The wizards plans were ruined! All because the royal family hated their only princess and he himself was hopelessly in love with her. What could he do now? His whole plan was ridding on the curse.
The princess looked baffled again. “Why wouldn’t it work? No knight or prince is going to come to the tower, you’re the first person I’ve seen in a month.” She raised her eyebrows when the wizard made a nervous squeak at the question. “Wait… are you? Oh my gosh… you’re an idiot.”
The princess got off the bed and put her hands up. “Just kidnap me. It’ll be faster. Come on. Take me to your lair or whatever you have. Anything is better then here.” This was not the result the wizard had anticipated but he’ll take it. | 465 | "Unfortunately for you only true hate can break the curse!" ,the evil wizard declared triumphantly, "Uh... you mean true love right?", asked the baffled cursed princess, "No, why would I say that?" ,the now equally baffled wizard replied | 776 |
“I don’t want to attend a meeting from that corporate a-hole.”
“I don’t want to either, but we have to attend we want to maintain the sponsorships.”
“We’re the good guys though. Why can’t they just pay us?”
“Look, if we want to keep our cozy lair, then we’ll have to listen to whatever the UberDude says.”
“Fine.”
“You’ll just zone out in this meeting anyways.”
“You know it!”
<>
<>
<>
“I’ve brought you all here today because I see that we are not maintaining a public image.” The UberDude said. One hero raises his hand, “Yes?”
“What gives? We’re saving people, who cares if we don’t look friendly?”
“Looking friendly is not only going to benefit ArchTech Corp, but it’ll help you out as well.” UberDude walks to his table and takes a sip of water. “Let me show you an example,” he grabs a remote to click forward on his presentation, “This is BugGuy, and through my coaching, he went from being a horrid spider creature to a lady killer.” That same hero raises his hand again and said,
“Wasn’t he cured?”
“Yes.”
“So, you coached him after you cured him right?”
“Yes, and?”
“Well, of course he’s going to be more sociable after he became a normal person. He’s not ugly anymore.”
“I don’t see what appearance has to do with anything.”
“You’re literally here making an argument about how our appearance isn’t up to corporate standards.”
“But! With my coaching, the Justice Team is going to look awesome and more importantly, marketable.”
Silence. Then UberDude continues,
“You see, we all can climb the ladder of success. We can be the most popular super team out here. You’ll have enough money that you wouldn’t have to worry about secret identities, government pension plans, or property damage. All you need to do is look presentable, and take all fights onto company property.”
“Why company property?”
“A skyscraper collapsing is a recipe for a viral video. Imagine, ArchTech building collapses on the street. It’s free advertising.”
“A building collapse can hurt people.”
“Trust me. ArchTech can handle it. Consider it a donation from a generous company.”
“Consider a building falling on someone instead.”
“Look. All I am asking is for you guys to bite the bullet for a while, and try it ArchTech’s way. ArchTech is taking the risk here. It won’t be long before a government program will be enacted and we all know how inefficient the Big Man is, trust me. You’ll want ArchTech’s way, it’ll be clean, efficient, and you get to profit from it too. If the government was to do it, then you won’t be paid for your hard work.” | 51 | The best superhero in the world isn't a paragon of virtue or an almost immoral vigilante, but a blatantly obvious, corporate-sponsored sellout. The only reason the rest of the heroes put up with them is because they've proven time and time again that they're damn good at their job. | 275 |
"Destroy humanity?" The Old One spoke.
The sound of the voice alone rattled the very foundation of the building above their heads. That was mild compared to the ringing in their skulls.
"Yes, your majesty." The leader began. He gave a curt bow, in respect and sheer honor. The others remained worshipping the floor, fearful to even lay eyes on the darkness.
"Mortal..." The voice rumbled. "May you answer my query?"
Such an odd reversal led to pause in the cult leader. He expected to serve, to be the right hand. Not to answer a question from his god.
"Yes, your majesty."
"Why would I destroy humanity?" The rumble returned. From the darkness, a clawed hand emerged. The size of a compact car, it settled and cracked the cement ever so slightly.
The leader shuffled. "Because... Look at what we are. What we do. The, the world. And how we've destroyed it. A-and, and how, how we know we could be better. But we choose to destroy each other."
The hand slid closer, causing every one to look up.
Another rumble came forth. But it wasn't a growl of hunger or vengeance. It was laughter. Tired, ancient laughter.
"You don't get it. Do you?" The Old One rumbled.
The other cultists watched their leader for an answer, or at least, the one they all had agreed on. "No? No, your-"
"Majesty. Right." The hand waved mildly, claws clicking on the floor. "Let me explain something."
There was a flicker in the lights above. Followed by a second hand reaching forth. There was fear building at this. The Old One understood. Despite their summoning ritual, they were scared to meet face to face. Fear was the oldest emotion after all.
"Long ago. Before your time. Before the Earth. There were more of us. Some have gone. Some remain."
It paused. Allowing them to at least to check for injuries among them. It understood.
"One like myself. He wanted to create something different. Something alive. And so he picked a world. And he created you there." It continued. The voice wasn't as tired. It felt awake. Alive now.
"We didn't believe. He had created a species that had endless potential. Rare. So very rare. And what a joy to observe."
This thing came closer, a outline visible now. One of the cultists fell over then and there. It seemed like they fainted. Their heart just gave out in all reality. Unfortunate side effects.
"What are you saying?" Their leader began. "You're saying we're entertainment?"
"You are more incredible than you realize." The Old One promised. "However. You do not appreciate it. You seek to ruin the world they created."
It's voice sunk. "In order to start over. This is unnecessary. Your summoning of me for this purpose is irresponsible."
It's approached caused madness in some now. The Old One could see all. The carnage they wrought. The unforgivable shedding of innocent blood. The horrors inflicted on many who never caused harm worthy of such.
"And I must say.... I have not feasted in some time."
The leader, despite the terror he faced, asked slack jawed. "Whatever do you mean?"
"The easiest way to change your world." The Old One revealed. "Is to start with yourself."
The leader realized something clouded the edges of his vision. Blood. His blood.
"But in this case." The Old One promised the now writhing bodies. "*I shall do what you cannot*."
The building lay quiet now.
All that remain. A stained floor. A useless book in an empty room. And long forgotten screams that fell on dead ears.
From a world away from ours. A creator again admired their works.
---
I was originally going to be funny, but I decided to play it straight. r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 77 | One of the Great Old Ones awakens from their slumber and confuses its followers by refusing to destroy the rest of humanity. The eldritch abomination explains to them that humanity is one of the Old One's greatest creations. | 240 |
The bar was half full, or more so it was half empty, depending on how you feel. Alive with patrons of various races clinking drinks and mixing stories. A tall, handsome orc (or as handsome as one can be) surrounded by a harem of women at a corner table, a few spaces down a group of sharply dressed dwarves in booster seats downed liquor like water, and behind the bar the resident bartender mixed drinks with a skill that only came with years of practice.
A few friendly faces watched on at the bar as the pointy eared green man flicked a cup up in the air and caught it once again. They clapped softly, and though he appreciated it, the goblin preferred cash. So as they showered him with love he pointed down to a little handmade sign on the counter that read *Your praise is great! But your money is better.*
As he did though his eyes caught sight of a new group entering. Sort of the "after school special" bunch, he thought, mixed with a variety of races and colors. A tall, lizardish man with green scales, a shorter human with wide features, and a rarity in the world: a blue skinned, half genie. He stared on as they took their seats, hoping by the sleekness of their dress that tips were coming his way. From the group the genie spawn wandered over to the bar first and took a seat right up front.
"What can I do ya for?", the goblin spoke without looking up.
"A martini. Dry....uhhhh Sandoval Drinkmaker" the djinn read off his little nametag.
"Sure, one second."
This was an untrue statement from Sandoval for two reasons: one because it would in fact not be one second. Two, because he was unsure how to tell the patron that no matter what his impressive spread of spirits appeared as, not a single one was "dry". All wet. In fact every drink that the goblin could recall making in his entire life had been wet.
He gave the djinn a crooked smile before slinking down behind the bar. Now on the floor the goblin began rummaging through shelves for any clues as to how a "dry" drink was made. Cups, glasses, cherries in a jar, no hints.
"Everything alright down there?" the djinn spoke over the bar
"Yeah just...you said dry right?"
"Yeah. That a problem?"
"Well- no, nope. Shouldn't be. No problem at all." Sandoval thought of the tip jar as motivation.
The goblins little palms sweated. His brain frantically ran through every option at his disposal until he settled on one: flash. With a little flash you could mess up nearly any drink and the customer rarely complained. It was a free show after all.
Sandoval returned from the floor with ingredients already in a shaker. Gin and vermouth, easy as could be. He tossed the shaker up in the air and caught it despite the sweat of his hands. Then after a few good shakes the goblin reached into a tray and plopped a piece of smoky ice in. The djinn looked unimpressed, but he did look, which was all that mattered.
Then Sandoval took a fresh cup and poured just the smoky air from the shaker into the glass. Not a single drop of liquid. Just alcoholic vapor. After a long, silent moment of the vapor trailing into the glass the goblin presented it.
"Your martini, dry sir."
"It's empty. Where the drink? Is this a joke?" The djinns white hair blew as if caught in a breeze. Its clothes rustled despite no wind.
"Empty? No no no. Dry." Sandoval winked then slowly inched the empty glass to the man. "Now if you'll excuse me it's my break. He placed a small tent on the counter that read *Be back soon, probably!" before turning and walking out in a rush, all the while thinking of his genius.
Meanwhile the djinn sat in disbelief, staring down to the empty glass, then up to the shaker filled with an actual martini. He grabbed it and poured himself a real drink and took a sip. His face contorted a bit, scrunched in dissatisfaction. "Ick! Too much vermouth." | 195 | In an urban fantasy world, a group of friends go into a bar. "I'll have a martini. Dry." The goblin bartender looks at the liquid ingredients and says, "I don't know how to tell you this." | 594 |
It wasn’t like I stole bodies, okay I did at the start but I returned those bodies eventually. I was a young dumb kid sue me! Honestly never was a villain and as I grew older and I tasted death real death of family members and I saw the limits of my power I found it an foul taste. As such I decided to protect the living with the dead save a life with someone already dead. I started small took the corpse of animals and stopped some robberies it was then I became known as the Druid hero though that didn’t last long especially after the money started rolling in and I began to make deals with dying people paying their families and inordinate amount of money in return for their body. Then the title changed after a big and robbery in New York. There were hostages and a super villain with his minions and I was the only hero available. They never stood a chance, my army had gotten quite large by this point and bullets and Molotovs don’t really matter to them. I managed to save everyone, save one little girl caught in the crossfire. The media twisted it to my fault made the whole thing a battle between super villains and all of a sudden my hero license was revoked and I was named a villain.
I’ve done what I can to get out the truth over the years even as I have begun to grey. I leave the real fighting to the young kids nowadays I fight hunger something you can punch away but an army of dead who don’t need sleep or rest can. I get attacked by then heroes now though, my few living employees are occasionally “rescued” for a few hours before they get a ride back and I’m slapped with lawsuits all the time but I cover my tracks well. My only issue is Lord Pyro a dumb hot head and according to the media my “nemesis”. Sure every time he shows I let him arrest me and we go down to the local station where he accuses me of crimes from anywhere and everywhere with no proof and Doug let’s me go after an hour.
I could go in more details but my daughter has come with my grandchildren. They see me as a hero but the world doesn’t and probably never will after all I disturb the order of things and if my granddaughter develops like me well seems like we’ll have two liches. Call me a villain if you want the ones that matter know I’m a hero. | 13 | Your superhero ability is that of a litch. You lord over death and command legions. You keep telling everyone you aren't a villain, but no one believes you. You've just about had it with their antics. | 19 |
John was suffocating, drowning on the honey thick words. The frantic sensation lasted but a moment after he finished the incantation. As he hung weightless above the burning pentagram, he felt nothing. He was so desperate, he had resorted to fire code violations to end his loneliness. A spark of black fire, highlighted in white too bright to look at, twinkled at the top of the center candle as he dialed back on the gravity. Could it actually be working? No way.
Smoke began to fill the high-ceiling cafeteria, occluding the false skylight and staining the pastel stucco of this never to be finished all-inclusive paradise. He thought of all the rich saps that might never get to cuss out a waiter for under spooning their caviar or whatever. Almost enough to bring a tear to his eye.
“Attention,” called down an automated woman’s voice from above, vowels round as marbles. “Hot ash detected on muster group B, deploying suppression measures. Thank you for dining on August Grande Orbital Vista, stand back!” Hoses uncoiled themselves like whining snakes.
John looked about frantically, dragging a tablecloth to throw over the summoning circle. The black/white flame caught it instantly, sending a gout of blacker smoke to curl along the prefabricated arches.
“Hot ash! Hot ash!” the automated attendant bellowed, as sprinklers filled with foam began to spray, laser aimed at the candles. They dimmed lower every second.
“No!” John ran, unsure of his plan as he jumped into the circle, shielding the center flame from the foam with his body. The pain grew as the flame cut through his coveralls, then stopped, more than stopped. He felt great. Had he been afraid?
He wondered how anyone could be afraid in this warmth. A hand ending in long sharp nails reached up and touched his shoulder lightly, pushing him back.
“I’m very grateful, but you’re crushing me,” came a raspy woman’s voice.
John staggered back, getting to his feet. He tapped his chest, the burn didn’t go past the top layer of his uniform. He should still stop by the automatic med bay later, but it was hard to think about anything as he looked into the circle.
Other than the long black curling horns cutting through her silver hair, the sharp teeth resting on black lips, the almost talon-like nails on hands and feet and the fact she seemed to clock in at about 6 foot 9, she was the most amazing looking woman John had ever seen, real or holo.
She stood and brushed herself off, sending a cloud of soot up again. A small drip of more foam came from the ceiling in reply. “Ah,” she yelled, laughing. “Can you turn that off?”
“No, sorry,” John said, suddenly awkward beyond measure. This was the first human he had seen in over two years. But human wasn’t the right word, was it?
She stood at her full height and bowed, letting her smokey dark gray gown knock over two of the now thoroughly doused candles. “I am Arix, Princess of the Eighth Suffering, Legion Lure of the Blind! To what purpose have you summoned me, mortal?” she asked, hesitating as if trying to remember her next line. “That you might exchange your everlasting soul for my service?”
“Can you keep me company?” He asked, “this orbital station is so lonely.”
“Very well- wait really?” she asked, rocking her head back, raising an eyebrow, and looking him up and down. “That’s it?”
“What can I say?” John chuckled nervously. “I’m going a little stir-crazy out here.”
“Where are we?” She walked to a table by a window overlooking the titanic gas giant.” Holy shit, are we in space?”
“The most amazing vacation destination station in the galaxy,” John offered, following her like a puppy. “Or at least it will be once the striking shipbuilders guild comes here to finish it. The scale of the orbiting behemoth means it has to be assembled on location, smack dab in the middle of jack shit, and apparently, I was the only sop desperate for credits willing to cross the pickets and come out here.”
“So you’re all alone in this huge place?” she asked, stepping into the floral atrium. The demon looked like John did the first time he saw it. He hadn’t even seen a plant until he was nine. She dragged a claw across one of the apple trees. “How do you keep it running by yourself?”
“The automated systems do almost everything,” John said, grabbing an apple and taking a bite before handing it to her. She smirked and snatched it. “I’m really just here in case something fails, but there’s only so much one engineer could do anyway. Mainly I’ve been waiting for others to come, but I guess the strike’s still on and I’m stranded. I can’t access my bank account from here but I’m guessing I’m pretty rich by now, at least.”
“I see,” she said, holding the apple like a raccoon might horde a grand prize. “Do these work? Could you contact them? Your bosses?” She pointed to a row of monitors tucked behind a service wall.
“Password protected by the union, all the systems are,” John said. “I gave up trying like a year ago. Hey, do you think these air purifiers look like a techo laundromat?” John asked, pointing into the next room they passed. “I always thought so.”
She squeezed beside him to peek in. “Kinda yeah, but you’d have to feed your shirts in through the slit one at a time. I think they look more like the holes you stick your arms through at museums, and feel stuff you can’t see.”
“Wow, you’re right,” John said, smiling. That had never occurred to him.
“You know your soul is a pretty big thing to give up. Are you sure that’s all you want?” she asked, bending down to see him eye to eye.
“Yeah, I already feel so much better. All these thoughts bouncing around in my head were killing me. I even tried that thing from the movie where he painted a face on a ball and named it but my ball was an agitator from the pool and the cleaner system recalled it back after a few days.”
“Okay, it’s your soul. What do you want to show me next?” she asked, standing back up eagerly.
“Oh, you gotta see the karaoke room, the costumes in there are insane.” John said, eye going wide with his idea. “Wait, no, stay here and wait till I call you. You have to guess who I’m dressed like.”
“Alright,” Arix said, shaking her head as the man scampered through the hall. She had thought he was sly to sacrifice himself to save her but he didn’t even seem to know that meant he got his wish for free. Not a bad gig, besides. She was already growing fond of the human. This could be like a vacation.
She sauntered to the monitor terminal and bowed her head in unsanctified prayer. “Jaeryx,” she hissed in the abyssal tongue. “Find me a damned one, one who was a shipbuilder union member in life.”
“I have one on the racks now, Legion Lure,” the eager croaking voice came. "What would you like of him?"
"I need him to type something."
A severed and callous hand popped into existence and flopped energetically on the floor. She bent and picked it up before it could crawl away, holding it up to the terminal.
“Type your login details and I will give you a moment’s peace,” she offered cruelly, digging a claw below the cracked fingernail. The hand worked across the keys and the terminal chimed. John was still out of sight.
She dismissed the hand back to its suffering body and read the title of the first and only email sent to the station. “Station August Grande is abandoned in union deal. No further ships will be sent in or out.”
“Okay, come here,” John said. "Guess who I am!"
“Coming,” Arix said with a smirk, clicking the delete button.
/r/surinical | 801 | The demoness looks at the young and disheveled man that summoned. “Can you keep me company?” He asks, “this orbital station is so lonely.” | 1,505 |
"There's motion at your front door."
Kyle looked up from his phone to the voice assistant. "Computer, show me front door."
A face filled the 5 inch lcd display. The man looked angry in his yellow vest.
"No way!" Kyle said, taking the stairs two at a time. Cupid bounced beside him, feline tail swaying with shared excitement. He opened the front door to reveal the man and the advertisement laden cardboard box.
"Your package," the man grimaced. His glare was bloodshot and Kyle could hear his teeth grinding.
"The one I just ordered like a minute ago?" Kyle hesitated then took the box, pressed the side in as he had done a hundred times so he could get a finger under the packing tape and rip across the top. "Yep, 400 count googly eyes! How is this possible?"
"Googly eyes," the man said, grinding a foot into the mat. "You chose same day delivery at 11:59 for googly eyes. Might I inquire, sir, what the emergency was that you hoped to resolve with googly eyes?"
"I just want to look cool and it's crazy you get 400 of them for like $11. I was going to put them on like a thermos, I guess and I'm taking that to work tomorrow so…"
"Right, right," the man said, spitting to the side. A tooth bounced into Kyle's garden. "You want to know how it's possible? Imagine you need a job and you find out the shipment center for the biggest company in the world is hiring right next door."
"I clearly upset you. I'm sorry. I think I'm going to just go to bed." Kyle said, creaking the door closed on the man. "Thanks again."
"There's motion at your front door," The voice Assistant he kept in the living room declared. "Now announcing from doorbell."
"You see, the thing is you asked me how it's possible," the man's voice carried through the room. The screen down here was the 8-inch model, showing even more details of the man's clogged pores. "And I feel like I would be rude if I didn't give you an answer. So I'm going to tell you how it's possible and you're going to listen."
Kyle pulled this phone out of his pocket. It was frozen.
"Now imagine that you took that job and it paid $15 an hour. And then you do such a good job that they promote you to floor manager and you make $17 an hour. Forget that every day after work your muscles ache like an old man, you're making more money than all your friends."
"Please sir, can you just leave?"
"But the metrics are falling, it's harder and harder to keep up every day and the corporate blue vests circle your workstation like vultures looking for an excuse to take your livelihood. One day you hold an outgoing delivery, a book of ashen leather bound with thread that looks like maiden hair. In it, you find an incantation to make any wish come true."
The man coughed, a horrible rattling that sounded like something was desperately wrong inside of him. "I'll call you a doctor, sir, please."
"The compulsion would just pull me from the ambulance, be a waste of time. Now, say you wished on that book. For money? Happiness? Nothing so simple because you think it's a joke. So you wish upon the book that you would always hit your metrics, but the old adage is as true as they say, turns out."
"So that's what happened to you? You wished to always meet your goals at work and now you do?" Kyle unplugged the back of the assistant. The screen did not go off.
"No matter how late, no matter how long the hours, my body labors. All across these United States like an non-unionized Santa Claus. I would have died years ago, save for the magic holding me together. As long as there are people like you willing to ask the impossible, I labor. I make it work, down the list, from A to motherfucking Z."
"I'm sorry, I won't do it again."
"And as you step back, 10 million more will step forward in your place." The man coughed again and collapsed.
Kyle rushed to the door, dropping the cheap plastic package to scatter its 400 eyes. The man was twitching on the stoop. Kyle patted the man's pockets looking for a cell phone. They were empty.
With shuddering zombie-like movements the man rose. "Break's over. Another delivery has no chance of making it on time. Without me, the metrics will fall and the corporate prophets will be displeased."
The man turned and jogged off, rounding the corner down the road leaving bloody footprints on the sidewalk. Behind Kyle, he could hear a googly eye rolling as the cat batted it back and forth across the living room. It sounded cheap.
/r/surinical | 1,887 | As a joke, you ordered a package from Amazon for 'Same Day Delivery' at 11:59. Barely a minute later, your package arrives with a very, very angry delivery driver. | 4,248 |
"What would you like, sirs? I'm afraid we don't have a squid's menu." The suited man spread his arms wide, twisting his spindled cane.
With a thundering slam, a building fell around them, trapping the two aquatic villains. Trentacle thrashed wildly, knocking over booths and tables as they popped into existence.
"So it's the traitor we're up against?" Carp Captain scoffed. "Enjoying the taste of the heroes boots, Pundertaker?"
"Most certainly, at least I don't feel like I'm losing my sole. Aren't you going to ask where we are?" A 6 foot tall fly wearing a white jacket and dirty apron came from the back to stand behind the turncoat villain with his smug expression.
"Hell's kitchen? I don't know," Trentacle growled, snapping the beak on the front of his armor. "You're outnumbered. Doesn't matter what stupid-"
"It's a Die-ner, get it?" Pundertaker smiled and spun again as the pair groaned. The fly pulled out a spatula, a knife, a long fork and a whisk with its four arms. "Are you ready to dine?"
"I see why the heroes hated you so much," Carp said "This is just embarrassing and undignified. I'm guessing this clown is a fly cook?"
Pundertaker smiled, gesturing to the fly who buzzed and began to chop at Trentacle's arms. "You know what really is a shame is you can't murder people as a hero. This would be a perfect opportunity to lay down some carpet."
Carp swung a wild frothing haymaker. Pundertaker dodged back without much effort.
"I'm afraid it will be harder to fin-ish me, my fishy friend." He breathed out and spun his cane again. A chicken as tall as the fly crashed in from the ceiling and scratched at Carp with its foot, almost taking out an eye.
"How are you so powerful?" Carp asked. Body slamming the bird before being launched back to crash into the back.
"Not a fan of my Kick-en?"
A weak groan came from the store room.
"Enough!" Trentacle screamed. "I am the spawn of an elder god! I will not be thrown about by a child and his cheap jokes."
Long arms swirling, the squid-like villain shook and glowed with the bleached light of bioluminescence. Roaring started in the distance, rapidly growing closer.
Pundertaker sniffed, smelling the brine no doubt.
"Oh shit!" Carp said. You better be scared, Pundertaker."
"I think you mean ohcean, friend," Pundertaker said, drawing out a long saw from his pocket.
A wave crashed into the diner leaving it underwater. Carp laughed as the chicken and the fly both spasmed, swimming wildly through the door.
Pundertaker stood seemingly unaffected by the water, holding his saw. "Underwater but underwhelmed, I must say."
"So you can breathe underwater now too?" Trentacle said, swelling in size.
"Sea Saw, one of my first," Pundertaker said, slicing at the water in front of him. The ocean exploded in expanding walls boiling into the sky. Tentacle flopped flat, sliced cleanly in half.
"Ika, think I cut a little too hard there. No, Shashimi, so sue me?" he mumbled to himself. "Hold on, I'll get it."
"You killed him!" Carp screamed, punching at the man to no effect.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, villain, but…"
Carp looked down to see his fists had been replaced by block letters that spelled out the word fist.
"The heroes are definitely going to ring me out for that one. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pounding." Pundertaker stepped aside to reveal a semi truck was hurtling towards Carp.
"This Friday, learn to love again!" A deep man's voice came from the truck, clips from a movie were playing on a huge screen taking up the side.
"Trailer, yep, okay," Carp said in resignation. "Doesn't it drive you crazy, having to make puns to summon all this?"
Pundertaker smiled wickedly, raising his hand to summon a perfectly normal apple. "The puns aren't actually part of my power, they just make it fun."
"And laugh a little on the way there!" The trailer trailer slammed into Carp, launching him into the distance as it continued to describe what seemed like a lovely romantic comedy.
Pundertaker surveyed the damage as he bit into the apple. Once the full moon came out, he would summon the warehouse to help clean up the mess.
/r/surinical | 76 | in the figure-of-speech sense, not literally. | 444 |
General Mustafa whipped his head towards the heavens. The sky was cloudless, an empty canvas of an artist who had run out of ideas. Not a single balloon-of-war was in sight, no birds arced through the air.
He combed the skies carefully, squinting his eyes. He was not a young man anymore, and his eyesight was not what it used to be. Rubbing his spectacles against his shirt, he perched them back on his nose and resumed his search once more.
Perhaps a false alarm? Dragons didn't exist anymore. Everyone knew that the last dragon had been slain by Sir Galahad in the 1980s with a Remington Model 4, atop Mount Vesk.
Suddenly, a respite from the sun's heat. Mustafa shivered, not at the sudden cold, but at the black shadow that fell across the freighter.
The lizard circled the train, once, twice, and settled comfortably on the tracks ahead. They were still moving at full speed, and she did not seem the least bit concerned.
There was a shriek of claw-on-steel. The locomotive crashed into the dragon's outstretched claw, 200 tons of engine and metal and coal screeching to a halt. Mustafa was thrown back against the hard linoleum floor, and he bit back a shout of pain as his head crashed against the tiles.
He was lucky he hadn't lost consciousness, he thought. Painfully, he pulled himself back to his feet. Shattered glass littered the floor. The bolted doors were warped from the impact, but not so much that they were inoperable.
Mustafa opened the door and stepped into the daylight.
There she sat, steam hissing lazily out of her pointed snout, forked tongue licking her scaly lips.
"So," she said. "Would you like to do this the hard way or the easy way?"
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites | 33 | A steampunk armoured train roars through a dusty canyon, carrying millions’ worth of gold and silver bullion to fund a war effort. Suddenly, shots are heard from the caboose, and someone shouts “DRAGONS!” | 291 |
Throughout the millenia, I have seen many types of mortals.
There are the ones who think themselves clever, the ones who have never been vanquished before in the human realm.
There are the ones who pick games of chance instead of skill, preferring to stake everything on a roll of the dice instead of their own abilities.
There are the ones who are defeated before they even make the first move, convinced that they do not stand a chance.
There are the ones who embrace the end, the ones who are ready for what comes next, the ones who don't even wish to challenge me.
And then there are the ones who think they can cheat me.
One such man stands before me now, cheeky grin plastered across his face, pencil and paper gripped tightly in his slender fingers. He's convinced that he's outsmarted me, that he's the one who will be able to beat Death. Mortals think that they're so special, so unique, that they alone have somehow figured out the trick to defeating the natural order of things, but I already know what he's going to say before he even opens his mouth.
"Tic-Tac-Toe," he proclaims.
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites | 41 | Tic Tac Toe... | 93 |
Metal shrieked against metal in thunderous booms as the flames spread around me. In the fire, I saw a single-horned creature with four eyes, its black hide teeming with muscles. He sat in the midst of a decadent restaurant, with walls papered in red and gold, its tables clothed in satin and topped with waxy white candles.
Before him, luscious grapes sat atop what looked like fine French cheese on etched silver platters, matching the prodigious goblets of wine. He pulled a cigar from a box nearby and offered me one. I declined without realizing that I was in the room with him, shaking my head in some kind of metaphysical sense.
"Welcome," he spread his arms, motioning that the meal was for my enjoyment.
As I approach I notice a chair so lavish that it could be described as a throne, with cushions in layers on top. He motions for me to sit and I oblige. "To what do I owe this honor?"
"Each of us has a day that is much better than the others. A day so good that it's hardly believable. Today is that day for you."
For a moment, the scene faded away. In my mind, I saw the car coming straight at me head-on. *No, it couldn't be.* "Is this hell?" I said. My head spun and I was back in the restaurant.
"You're a quick learner." He pulled one of the grapes off of the vine and handed it to me. "Eat, for you only have a meal this good once in your life."
I looked down at the perfectly shaped and unblemished purple grape, studying it for any signs of inauthenticity before putting it in my mouth. A shiver ran down my spine. It tasted amazing, the best of its kind, but something didn't feel quite right about it.
"A grape never tasted so good," he said while blinking all four eyes repeatedly.
I felt myself shaking as I tried to look into the eyes. For several moments I was transfixed until the sound of gunfire coming from somewhere nearby jolted me. "What's that?" I said with urgency.
"You see," he cringes, "hell is other people."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"They're always trying to save their fellow humans, keeping them from my clutches. I can't tell you how many times I've been sitting with another intake like yourself and then somehow they're saved."
"Oh," I said, my mind starting to do tumbles. Memories began to float in and out of my brain. The horned creature started to flicker on and off, its creepy four eyes staring into me with a dubious expression each time I saw them.
The next thing I heard was "we're done with the Jaws, get him out of there!" | 58 | The Demon who welcomed you to Hell has been suspiciously polite. About halfway into the gourmet dinner he's served you, you finally ask him what the catch is. "You see..." He cringes, as the sound of distant gunfire drifts in through a window "...hell is other people." | 173 |
*I’m trapped.*
*I’m trapped and I’m going to die.*
It all started two cycles ago, when Kith’s crew of mercenaries were hired to transport a strange creature. The client was quite vague about where they obtained the creature, and the drop-point was just another ship in a desolate sector.
For the two cycles that the creature had been locked in the the cargo bay of Kith’s ship, it had been vocalizing constantly. Its strange cries almost sounded like language, but both Kith and their crew dismissed the notion. It wasn’t sapient, the client promised Kith that when the contract was signed. It had also been smearing its nutrient paste on the walls of its cells in a bizarre patterns of lines. Coincidentally, in groups of prime numbers, but again, Kith and the crew had brushed it off. It wasn’t sapient, right?
They’d asked themself that question many times, what if they were wrong? What if they and their crew had been keeping a sapient captive without even realizing? But they had a higher responsibility than to a random being who they weren’t even sure was sapient, they had a responsibility to their crew. Their crew had been hired for a job, they’d signed a contract. No mercenary breaks a contract and lives to tell the tale.
And now, here they are. Trapped in the burning ruble, fatally wounded with most of their crew dead or dying around them. The ship had been caught in a bad plasma storm and crashed on an uninhabited deathworld.
*I hope the creature survives.*
—————————————————————————
*Fuck. This. Noise.*
Alex was having the worst month of his life. He’d been actually abducted by actual aliens, held captive and experimented on by said aliens, then locked in solitary for like two weeks. That’s the assumption he’d been going off of in any case, his sense of time had long since been eroded.
He’d tried to show his captors that he was a person by using his food to tally prime numbers on the wall. He’d been working under the assumption that whoever was running things thought he was an animal, that once they realized he was intelligent, he’d be set free.
He was wrong, and once he figured that out, he’d apparently gone off the deep end. He’d always talked to himself, but this was different. This looked like a breaking of the mind, but it wasn’t. This was the acceptance of the fact that his captors would never see him like a person, so why should he care what they thought? He babbled and laughed, dancing around as you might expect of a person who had lost his mind. But he hadn’t, he’d simply let go.
When the ship crashed, he got his shit together and saved himself from the burning wreckage. He escaped to a high vantage point on a hill nearby, overlooking the chaos. It was then that he saw them, a single survivor trapped under the wreck.
*Fine, I guess I’ll save them. Might make a useful ally later on.*
[part 2 to come later] | 11 | This creature might by the most alien thing you’ve ever seen, and communicating with it seems nigh impossible. But you do know a few things- it is about as intelligent as you, struggling for survival like you, and seems to be willing to cooperate. | 35 |
The first time it happened was an accident. I was working as a manager at Panera Bread and our dinner rush had started. Our drive thru was wrapped around the building, trailing out to the highway. A line had formed at our front counter and was backed up out the front door.
One of my associates, Darren, was a real piece of work. He was mouthy, lazy, and uncooperative. On this particular night, Darren was working on consolidation, the position responsible for putting the orders together. Sandwiches were piling up behind him, salads lining the salad bar. I'd tried coaching him several times, but he would just insist he'd get to them. With no other option, I moved Carol there and pulled Darren into the back.
"Dude, don't even start with me," Darren said before I'd opened my mouth.
"You have to work harder," I told him.
"What's the point? Tomorrow's my last day. I'm coasting, dude."
"Just because you're quitting, that doesn't mean you can just take it easy, Darren."
"You know what? I'm done. Good luck with this mess." He turned and started walking out of the office.
"Darren, stop!" I yelled after him. I don't know what made me do it, but I reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck. I guess two years of putting up with his bull had finally gotten to me. When I gripped his neck, I felt an odd sensation. As though electricity shot from my brain, down my arm, and into his.
All of a sudden, I could see through his eyes. I could his feet aching from his falling apart shoes.
Even after I removed my hand, it felt like our minds were linked. I could control his actions, but could also control my own. He felt like he was part of me.
&#x200B;
Now, it's not an accident. I've discovered my ability to create and control my own hivemind. Sure, most people have abilities, but none have been as powerful as mine. Since the Great Change, when a nuclear power plant in Beijing exploded and sent a wave of radiation over the world, people had been displaying supernatural abilities. It's estimated something around 90% of the world's population had an ability. Most people's ability was something like low level flight or telekinesis. Some had devastating powers such as the ability to control the elements or weather.
Once I discovered my ability, I took Darren as my first minion. At first, I wasn't sure what I would do with it. Controlling other people seemed like an ability for a super villain. It was when my mother was murdered that I found my true purpose. There's so much evil in the world, so much hate. I could erase it.
I began my conquest, slowly adding more and more people to my hivemind. My only drawback was that I had to physically touch the back of their neck to do so. It's taken three years, three long years, but I've amassed a hivemind of 100,000,000. Nearly 1/3rd of the United State's population. Being able to send out a simple command like "act as yourself" allowed me to stay hidden for a long time, but I can hide no longer.
&#x200B;
I pause, waiting for the Eric Jackson, the 51st President of the United States, to keep speaking into my phone.
"Well?" he asks. His voice has that slight hoarseness some older men get.
"I'm not backing down, Mr. President. We are Legion. We are everywhere. It would be easier to join us."
"You're taking away free will, son. I know what you think you're doing is noble—"
"When someone murders someone," I say, cutting off the president, "you put them in jail. You take away their free will."
"And the millions you've enslaved? What have they done?"
"Nobody is innocent. Not even you. Mr. President, think of what a worldwide hivemind could accomplish. If we did away with war? With crime? If all people of all countries came together, we could solve any world issue: world hunger, famine, poverty. It will be utopia."
"It will be meaningless. What is life if we can't choose for ourselves?"
"You don't understand my ability. How could you?"
"I'm a telepath, son. I can hear the thoughts of your slaves. They're screaming to be set free."
This is true. I can hear those thoughts, though I shut them down. Every prisoner yearns for freedom. But they'll soon see. Once all seven billion people on Earth are under my control, they'll see they're better of under my control than being themselves.
"If you won't back down, I'll have no choice," says the president. "We will have to attack. Let them go. Just let them go, and we'll—" His words are cut off as I hang up the phone.
*Hear me, my minions,* I think into the hivemind. *We are being threatened. Bring me the President of the United States. Bring him to me, now.*
I choose to look through the eyes of Wilbur Hendrix, the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. Having seen the evil of mankind firsthand as the head of Homeland Security, he believes in my vision of utopia. He doesn't scream for his release, shielding him from the President's ability. He's looking at the President now, sitting in the Oval Office of the White House.
"He won't give in," says the president, his lined face falling. "We'll have to attack. I want troops mobilized to his fortress. We're taking him down today. I want orders to shoot him on sight."
"Come with me, Mr. President," I make Hendrix say, "we'll take you to a secure location."
What the president doesn't know is that I'll be there, ready to grab his neck as soon as he lands. I won't stop until every human on Earth is under my control. Until I've eradicated all evil. Free will is a curse humans can't be trusted with, and I am the cure.
Note: This story was edited to remove a plot hole. | 241 | People have superpowers. Yours is the ability to create a hivemind. It has grown too large and is now labeled a global threat. | 378 |
I didn't know when I was dating Mia for the first time. In fact, it wasn't until six months in she let me in on it. It turns out that at her high school graduation, some creature long thought mythical gave a surprise appearance. Apparently, her grandfather spared the creature's life during a war, and as a result he was owed a favor. And that favor, well...
"So, yeah, I have an X factor like in the comics."
I didn't quite know how to react. There were a hundred different such powers that could exist, with powers anywhere from flight to healing to shedding skin. But the very fact it was real, it was true, seemed unthinkable. And why tell me?
"Is this common knowledge?"
"No," Mia sighed. "Only my family knows. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone else, but since we seem to be soulmates and all, I guess you needed to know. I'm basically a mutant. Well, I guess the best word is shapeshifter, but that seems too high a word."
"Oh?" I was hoping there'd be a hint as to how I was supposed to think about this.
"You're not curious?"
"Oh, I am, but honestly -- as long as you're the you I know, it doesn't really matter. You're beautiful, smart, resourceful, and friendly. What more could I want?"
Mia looked around, as if to make sure no one was peering into her windows. "Okay, it's just us," she said as if relieved. "So it's not like I can be anyone ever. The creature said I could become anyone or anything I was familiar with. What I've figured out is that it means touch. If I've touched someone or something, I can mimic them. Well, also I can change a few things about me, but that's minor."
"Minor? Mia, you're practically a goddess now!"
"I don't feel like it. I... I feel kind of fake. Like, there's this part of me I have to hide because I'm basically a freak. I have to keep reminding myself what I really am because if I didn't, I'd... I mean I... I'm scared of forgetting who I am."
I held her in my arms to keep the tears away. "Mia... I know who you are. It's not about what you show me, and if you need to remember we have pictures to remind you. It's about what you give to me. Nothing can ever take that away. I promise."
&#x200B;
It's been a year since we got married. I've been trying to help Mia accept and get the most out of her power. As of now, she mostly uses it to prank me, whether it's pretending to be on TV when she is the TV or coming to the door as someone I don't recognize and pretending to sell me stuff. It's the little things keeping our relationship healthy and fresh. Or so I thought.
"Dear? Do you still love me?"
"Whatever gave you the idea I didn't?"
"I mean, do you love me as... me? I know what I do, but I keep thinking you're going to ask to change me for good."
In her defense, there would be times when I would joke about having her as an extra appliance around the house if something broke down, or even to be a sexy celebrity. I didn't realize that such jokes hurt as much as they did, but it's pretty clear I misread the situation. Again.
I'd like to say this was a blindside, but it seemed like we had this conversation a lot.
"Mia... is this because I joked about Comic-Con?"
"It's not just that. It's not even just you. I feel like my parents want me to do stuff too. My sister's always talking about sneaking me along on a blind date as her purse to keep her safe. And I'm scared to tell my niece, because who knows what she'd want to do. I might be a stuffed animal for good! I kind of wish I didn't have this power."
I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek to reassure her. "Honey, didn't I tell you that it didn't matter? That I still felt you, the real you, the one inside is what counted?"
"Stop saying it like that, it sounds like a line!" Mia shrunk herself down to a few inches tall as she curled up in a ball. "I feel like a silly little toy for all of you!"
I was stuck. Nothing I said could make her feel better about herself, and honestly, what psychiatrist would possibly keep her powers a secret, or even know how to respond to that? But Mia was never about her supernatural abilities. She was always about being my love.
"Mia, please -- you're going to disappear if you keep that up. And I'd be very lonely without you. Where would I ever find someone as smart and as kind and as generous with herself as you? Everything about you is perfect as it is. I promise."
Mia turned her back to me. "Then why keep asking if I can be something else?"
"Wait, you do this to yourself, don't you? I thought if you were okay doing it for you, you'd be okay doing it for me, too!"
"Oh, so I can't have fun or I become a toolbox?" Mia turned around, staring up at me with her tiny eyes. "Is that it? Is that what I am? Why don't I just sit in your closet, then!"
"Now wait a minute, Mia, I'm not the one who's trying to take advantage of you! You say no, I drop it, you know that!"
"Oh, that makes it so much better now? You think you're some white knight because you only ask to use me instead of demanding it?"
"Mia, what brought this on!? You're acting like I'm some crazy monster keeping a damsel in distress! You're my wife!"
"Then ACT LIKE IT! Don't you just-OW!" Mia had gotten so mad she shot up in size, banging her head on the ceiling. She began to laugh from her own clumsiness, slowly restoring herself to her default size as I cuddled her head. "I'm such a jerk, I'm sorry."
"No, Mia... no..." I shushed her as I rocked her head in my arms. "You're in a tough position. You have no one to talk to. I'm here for you, I promise."
I could hear sobs coming from her. "B-but..."
"Did something happen today?"
"Well... she did." Mia altered herself to look like her sister. "Oh, Mia, dear -- I need to look good for the ball tomorrow and don't have a dress. Can you help me out? I don't wanna spend any money." She changed back to herself. "Is that what I am?"
"No, Mia. She's wrong. You're you. You're no comic book character. You're... special even without it. I promise." A loud sniffle emanated from her. "It's gonna be okay. I'm here for you. Take your mind off of her."
Mia took a deep breath to calm herself down before kissing my nose. "Thanks, dear," she got out. "I'm sorry I took it out on you."
"Why don't you stand up to her more?"
"Family. I don't want to be the entitled one."
"Doesn't matter -- you're going to tell her the answer's no, right?"
"...well... I could..."
"You need to. You need to stand up for you. Look at me -- the more you do things for others, the more you're going to feel like you don't matter. And I don't want my wife to think that way. If you say no to me a hundred times onward, I won't mind. If you need to say no to her, you do that. She needs to appreciate her sister, not a magician she shares DNA with."
Mia had a quick laugh, but I could tell it was cheering her up. "Could you talk to her, though? I feel so... well, so empty."
"Hey, Mia, wait -- don't go being a balloon on me now. You know how much effort it takes to blow you back up?"
Mia smirked. "And I thought men liked their women inflatable."
"HEY!"
The laughter showed that, whatever state her emotional outburst and her greedy sister had left her in, it didn't last. She squeezed her arms around my neck and gave me another kiss. "You go tell her what you told me. I'll be waiting for you." Mia walked off to the bedroom of our apartment, flinging her shirt over her shoulder as she did.
I picked up the phone and dialed calmly. "Hey, Kim? We need to talk about your little request." | 44 | Some people think you hit the jackpot when you married a shapeshifter. While you did in some ways, most fail to consider the unexpected issues which stem from your spouse's ability to change forms. | 68 |
I hovered over the hospital surgical bed. My cloak of black and white in perfect harmony with each other swayed in the absent wind. I pulled my hood up and tugged it down to cover my dark brown hair and striking blue eyes. The cloak had an unfathomable aura to it. They say that the cloak of the reaper represents the reaper and the souls he or she has guided.
"He's not going to make it."
"No he'll make it." The surgeon repeated the phrase religiously over and over.
The screen that kept track of his heart beat fell flat.
"No, come on. Don't you dare die on me."
The spirit of the man floated out of his body. He saw me and I watched his face as realization set in.
"Am I dead?" He asked as he continued to float up past the ceiling as I followed.
"Yes. Would you like me to bring you back?" I asked. I learned early on that sometimes, people don't want to go back. So I phrased it like this.
"Can I?" The man asked with wonder.
"Yes, all you need to do is grab my hand and I can bring you back. You don't have much time so decide quickly. "
The man thought for a moment before grabbing my outstretched hand. I took that as an answer and brought him back to the surgical room where the surgeon was doing his utmost to bring him back to life. As I gently laid him back on the bed he asked me one final question. " Are you an angel?"
I didn't respond since his spirit already slipped back in. The heart monitor started beeping again. The surgeon sighed with relief while I was out of breath. I let out a sigh and looked at my reflection in the glass. Some grey hairs blended in with my dark brown hair and winkles started to appear under the eyes.
I'm a Reaper. But who says Reapers can't save lives? Reapers guide souls. Typically we will guide them to the afterlife but every now and then...it feels nice to guide a soul back to life.
"I see you haven't changed?" An amused voice interrupted my thoughts.
I turned around and a young women with blood red hair and beautiful green eyes greeted me. Her cloak was black as night streamlined with red at the ends. The aura she gave off was dark but calming.
" Alice, haven't seen you in ages. What brings you here?"
"Humph, I think you already know the answer to that. That man you just saved was supposed to be my next client." She spoke sassily.
" What am I supposed to tell my boss now?"
"Just tell him the truth." I said simply.
She sighed, " We Reapers are supposed to guide the dead to the other side. How come you don't follow the normal rules? You know the consequences of bringing the dead back to life. For every person you bring back, a part of your life force is syphoned and your soul-life is shortened. That's why Reapers don't typically do this. But you..." She sighed again.
"Whatever, let's grab a drink and catch up. what do you say? I know this place that has amazing spirit wine." Alice smiled mischievously.
I smirked, " Okay, but you're buying."
"Hey! Where'd the gentleman I met hundred's of year's ago go? Bring him back." She pouted
I laughed as I opened my personal portal back home.
"Do you want to drink with me or not?" I retorted.
I stepped through the portal with Alice grumbling close behind. | 30 | You are a reverse grim reaper. Instead of guiding souls to the other side, you find a way to guide them back to their bodies within a set amount of time. After helping hundreds of people back to life, an amused grim reaper appears before you. | 68 |
The cough startled Lise. Slightly annoyed from being interrupted in her perusing of Mankor’s ‘The Great Gift of Flight’, she turned around to face the owner of the small antique store on Dermot Street. The old witch stared blankly at her, unafraid of the lop-sided stack of books hovering over her. Witches don’t often look old, so she had to be ancient. Most people didn’t think much of the store or its eccentric owner, but Lise was warier than most. Messing with ancient beings seldom ends well. The shop looked like the inside of a storage gem, with books, artefacts, weapons, and trinkets stacked in cases that reached up to the ceiling. Plenty of them had fallen on the ground, which made the store a hazard to navigate, yet the witch seemed to be able to avoid touching anything carefully. “Yes?” Lise asked. The witch smiled back at her but remained silent, and a horrid stench escaped her mouth, in which only a few rotten teeth remained. In her hands, she held a small gem coffin. Gems were powerful in this world, especially to a rune forger like Lise. Everyone could use gems, but only rune forgers could write spells into them or use them to their fullest potential.
Witches get their power from the ground they built their huts on, wizards from the towers they created in their souls when awakening their power and sorcerers from the covenants they make, but rune forgers forge magic into other objects. Most people can craft magic into things, but it’s less potent. A rune forger can forge spells even a wizard can’t break, magic that works as intended even on Witchground. Crafter needs to learn to be able to perform their tasks, but all rune forgers instinctively know what they are doing while at the same time having no idea what their runes mean or how they work. A crafter is aware of what they do, a rune forger goes into a trance when they perform their art. There are three general types of rune forging: infusing, golemancy and geometric inscribing, Lise being a master of the latter.
The witch opened the gem coffin, and a wave of aura flowed over the room. The witch, no doubt, knew it happened even though she could not sense it herself. Lise, however, felt every particle and knew she had to have this gem. It seemed to call out to her. She had never felt something with such boundless potential, so many shapes in which to inscribe her runes. The smile disappeared from the witch’s mouth. “You always do this, Lise,” her voice was like chalk on a blackboard, “You hide your emotions with one of your damned gems, and you never wear your emotions on your face. Bah! I prefer people that are easier to manipulate….” The witch spoke the last sentence, so softly Lise almost didn’t hear it. Witches play with minds. Unlike most forms of magic, witchery is more subtle. There was power in nearly every word, heard or unheard, in how it was said, the order, if it was raining while it was being said. On Witchground, every little aspect impacted witchery, making it so damn tricky to deal with ancient witches. Rune forgers are the exact opposite. Even though their magic still works more intuitively, much like witchery, it is precise, deliberate, pure and untouched by the world.
“This… It's spherical”, Lise sighed as she feigned disinterest. The object in the gem coffin turned out to be a ring with a spherical gem in it. Geometric inscribing requires surfaces. Per surface, only one magic can be inscribed. The number of surfaces, the shapes and their sizes all influenced the number of runes you can inscribe and what you could do with that gem. For this reason, spherical gems tended to be useless. Due to some imperfections, they would end up having hard-to-discern surfaces. They tended to be a mess. But this one was perfect. A perfect sphere and one filled with power, this could be one of the greatest gems ever to exist. This gem could become Lise’s Magnum Opus. Her Allstone. This gem could make her the greatest rune forger on the continent. “I knew it!” the witch cried out, and for a moment, Lise thought the witch was on to her, “He sold me some junk again! I will turn him into a frog the next time I see him and boil him.” Her anger reverberated through the store. Books that formerly had light magic turned dark, and artefacts sprung to life with the intent to kill and cracks opened in the floor. Then, as quickly as it had started, everything was normal again. The witch seemed to have simply moved on.
“Here, you can have it”, the witch said as the coffin closed with a sharp snap, taking its aura with it, before practically throwing it at Lise, “Now pay for that book and get out. I have something I need to do.”
Back in her workshop, Lise couldn’t wait to get started on the ring. She walked towards the fountain in the middle of the room. Every rune forger had their own method. Lise preferred working with liquids, infusing them with her aura and letting the liquid run over the surface of whatever object she was inscribing. It was a method she had perfected in her childhood and never shared with anyone. The fountain had the shape of a flower, with an inscribed control element in the middle, created through a combination of golemancy and geometric inscribing that Lise could meditate inside of while the different liquids were stored in petals laid into the flood surrounding the control element. She slipped the ring over her finger, and the aura felt familiar, but before she could figure out why her mind had already entered a trance.
The gem's surface seemed infinite and powerful, and Lise was drawn to it. Her mind melted together with the liquids, gallium, caesium, rubidium, mercury, and water. She flowed over the gem, marking microscopic runes into its surface, going deeper and deeper. First, the gem seemed purple, then blue, green, and finally black as she traversed it. Runes formed automatically, without Lise steering their creation or forcing their placement. They came from the images in her mind. Mountains standing so high they cut clouds, forests no human had walked in for thousands of years, deep caves within the earth first cold then warm. A torrent of waves, then deep seawater. Rivers leading to a lake full of life. The smallest of mechanical gears in a toy and then suddenly the stars. A deep, dark void will with dots of light and warmth, pulling on objects around them, who in turn pulled back, and even the dots were pulling on each other. Everything flowed through Lise onto the gem as she lost herself in her visions. And then it ended.
Abruptly the trance ended, and Lise fell into the void. Fear gripped her heart. She felt so incredibly small, so insignificant. The dots became roaring monsters of light and energy, ready to devour anything that got too close to it, and everything seemed to pull on her all at once. She panicked, still feeling like she was falling, and flailed around, yet there was nothing. Nothing to hold on to, nothing to push off, nothing, not even wind. Lise kept tumbling toward one of the dots, a dot that turned bigger and bigger and bigger until its white light consumed all.
“It’s okay”, a soft voice spoke, “you’re okay now.” Lise was curled up on the ground, tears streaming down her eyes. “It is terrifying, isn’t it? The gem we made?” the older woman spoke while laying her hand on Lise to try and calm her down. They stayed like that for a few minutes as Lise calmed down. The void was gone, nothing was pulling on her, and she wasn’t falling anymore. “W-where am I?” Lise finally asked the older woman. “Inside the gem”, she spoke, but her mouth didn’t open. “It is an overwhelming experience, entering it like this. But worry not, you won’t ever have to do that again. Right now, all our combined experience, knowledge and power is melting into the gem, making it ever stronger and also making this experience ever more terrifying for the next one.” “The next one?” Lise asked. “Yes, the next one. We are the same, Lise. I am you. The aura within this gem is us, all of us, send back in time. Using this gem, you will put yourself at the centre of our world. Some of us have used it to conquer, some to heal, some to break, but all of us have used it. There will be a great calamity in the future, and when we inevitably fail to stop it, we forge this gem. Stop”, she held her hand up as if anticipating my interruption, “I know gems like this can’t be crafted, normally. We, you, will figure out how to. And like all of us, you will pour your soul into it and send it back in time. The first hoped one of us would be able to overcome the calamity. Here you will find fragments of all of us, hundreds, thousands. Some are hopeful, and others are not. I lost everything to them. To the calamity... Please, end this. For all of us.” | 16 | In a world where magic spells can be recorded on faceted gemstones, more facets means more power. While in an antique shop, you find a ring with a perfectly spherical stone. | 34 |
First, humans had nothing. We didn't have anything for warmth, little for fighting, and were quite weak all around. What were we compared to the quick, fierce, and intelligent elves? Or the powerful centaurs? Or the craftsman dwarves? But then...*fire.* It was just like that. Nearly all our issues, solved! We could use it for warmth. We could *fight* with it! And I was the one who found it.
I saw fire. It burned down our little village, killing most of the people there, including my family. But...How was it made? I turned it into my life's mission. To find fire. Nearly 3 years later, I actually succeeded! I would share my great discovery with the world! But wait, I thought. Why would I do *that?* The dwarves and elves and centaurs and *everyone* had something, but not humans. No, not us. So why shouldn't we, I thought. Why would we share our knowledge with those who beat us down and belittled us, refusing to share *their* secrets. My name would be remembered, I, as the one who saved humanity from an eternity of weakness and servitude. I smile. Justice was going to be served.
Over the following months every human was informed. It was incorporated into our armies, our villages, everyone knew about it. Not the outsiders, though. When they finally discovered that we possessed the cosmic horror, *fire,* they didn't dare call us useless like they used to. All of the sudden, they wanted to make trade agreements, make peace, to get our secret! We weren't so foolish, though. Their armies and towns fell in a storm of fire. Attack after attack until finally we were the only race left. Now *we* rule. | 13 | Humans are considered weak and useless until its discovered that we possess the cosmic horror... fire. | 25 |
It had started off as a joke. I had been making a world for a new campaign for our dungeons and dragons group. Naturally, this required me to create a pantheon of gods. Although most were farily forgettable, one stuck with me. The Goddess Ra'ah, the Divine Healer. She was fairly generic, being a Goddess whose followers sought to heal and cure. But something about her made her stick in my mind.
Nonetheless, she was a part of the world. We had begun playing, having a blast. It was only when I gave myself a papercut that it started. I was in character as a priest of Ra'ah, and so covered with a hand, and spoke with a solemn voice.
"May the Lady's light heal me."
Of course nothing happened. But we loved it. It gmbecame a running joke to us. Whenever we hurt ourselves even slightly, one would touch it, and ask for Ra'ah to heal us. It was silly. We knew it was nonsense. But it was our nonsense.
Even when Sandra had a bad fall, breaking her arm we kept it up. Each time we met up, I would lead the prayer of healing. We found a sort of comfort in it. We weren't really religious people, but the ritual was calming. She said it made it more bearable.
After her cast was off, she designed and had made copies of her holy symbol. It was a stylised sun, with the head of a rose in its centre. It was touching when she presented them to us, with more than one of our number growing watery eyed.
I walked into a door handle in the session following. As usual, I omoit my hand against it out if instinct. But this time I touched the symbol, speaking again.
"May the Lady's light heal me."
To our amazement, the symbol beneath my hand began to glow a soft white. The glow was matched by the others, all around the the table waiting for me to bring in a prop. The glow from each grew, before somehow detaching and floating through the air. They gathered into a single point, before a flash temporarily blinded us.
I blinked it away, mouth falling open at the sight before me. A beautiful woman stood there, a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes were golden, circled by tattoos of twisting vines. She wore a simple white dress, with a pair of dives sitting on her shoulders. I knew who she was immediately, her design held in my mind. Somehow, impossibly, this was Ra'ah.
"My beloved followers. It is good to truly see you."
Her voice was gentle, flowing through the air. It warmed my heart, putting me at ease though I knew I should be scared. The pain in my side melted away as she smiled at us, hands clasped before her. I put down the prop goblet I had made, bowing my head. I knew what to say, as the priests in my world would say.
"My Lady, your presence is a blessing to us all."
My friends concurred, standing to bow. She gave a small laugh, light and geniune.
"Oh, please raise your heads. It is I who should be bowing. You gave me life, for that I am grateful."
I watched her bow in turn to us all, before lightly stepping forwards. She put a hand on my shoulder, her touch like a sunbeam on a cold autumn day.
"My Herald. I am in your debt most of all for being the core of my religion."
She turned to the others, giving them each a heartfelt smile.
"But that does not mean I am not indebted to you all as well, for following on the beginning. You all created me. There is nothing I can do to repay you as much as you deserve. But I can do what I can."
I could see the same feelings on my friends faces as I felt. Wonder, peace and joy. Ra'ah lightly stepped up to each, subtly growing or shrinking to be just slightly taller than each. She gave them a kiss on the forehead, making their eyes spark.
"You are all my Clerics. I give you the power to ignore harm, and heal those who you touch. I give you the strength to protect the innocent, and save them from evil."
She turned to me, her eyes damp. Her smile was wide, joy the evident cause of her tears. She gave me a kiss on my forehead, like the others. I felt a jolt, as a part of my mind shifted. But instead of pulling away, she rested her forehead on mine for a moment.
"As my Herald you too have the power of my Clerics. But you also can call on me, wherever you need."
I struggled to find my voice. She noticed, nodding to me.
"Please, speak."
I swallowed, moving to stand by my friends.
"What, what do you want us to do?"
Ra'ah gave a giggle again, walking up to us. She picked up one of our character models, looking it over.
"My only want is for you all to live long, happy lives. If you are asking what I wish, I would wish you spread my name, and help those who cannot help themselves. But I do not demand. If you wish to spread it, I wish for you to do it of your own free will."
She put the model down, stepping back.
"Those gifts I give you are precisely that. Gifts. I will not take them back from you. Use them as you will. The only thing I ask is that you do not forget me."
I looked to the others. They turned to look at me, each giving a shallow nod. I smiled back at them, before turning my gaze back to Ra'ah.
"We will not."
Her smile widened, and she held out her arms.
"Thank you. Thank you all."
Her form faded, leaving us alone. I looked at my friends, both exhausted but energised at the same time.
"So.... that happened." | 286 | A while back, you and your friends started praying to a goddess you had made up as a joke. Unbeknownst to you, your constant prayers have made the goddess real and she’s eager to reward her faithful followers. | 707 |
Ancient powerful entities roam the universe. They are the final result of evolution, both natural and guided. They are ascended in all possible ways that one could imagine, and possibly also in ways that younger races cannot even conceive of. They are the perfect flesh, the perfect machine, and the perfect extradimensional creatures, all in one. Even the most powerful, most advanced normal races in the universe are miniscule and insignificant in comparison to these incomprehensibly powerful precursors. A single precursor could upend an empire that spands mere galaxies. Because the precursors are the highest level possible to attain on what the human race calls the Kardashev Scale. They go beyond the mere power of controlling a single universe, and have the ability, knowledge, and strength necessary to control the infinite multiverse as they please. The laws of physics are nothing to them. The continuing entropy of the universe can be rolled back, should they desire it. From nothing, they can create energy. Even time itself bends to their whims.
How lucky are the millions of cultures on thousands of worlds, that they are mostly benevolent.
To the young, growing, and aspiring species that arise on various worlds, they are like benevolent caretakers. They come into the dark forest of the universe, and carry aloft a lantern. By its light, they dispense wisdom according to their own will and personality. Some appear in godly forms, though whatever gods that might be, they have long since eclipsed such divine entities in power and majesty. These who appear in the god-guises are lawful, strict, and would like to see the weak and fragile young races put into order. They make them safe, and take their development towards a position that will make them safe. Like taking a young kitten out of the wintry night, and into the warm safety of a good home. Though once inside, they do not ever leave again. They can be seen, safe, well-fed, and well-kept, in their gilded cages. Others allow their charges to roam more freely. To make mistakes, though usually the precursor in question can be counted on to help heal whatever damage might have been done. They care for the young interstellar species as best they can, and guide them towards the way that they feel is best. These usually become galaxy-spanding federations, of explorers, scientists, and diplomats. Which makes the precursor who have nurtured all those different friendly races, and brought them to the apogee of their existence, quite proud.
Of course, not all species are equally guided. Some are wild, and when offered a hand, given a treat, or offered aid, respond with feeble attempts at violence. These races do not last as independent entities. Those who when offered care, assistance, and aid, accepted it, they prosper. Those who bite the hand that feeds, usually collapse, and must be saved by those who had the foresight, morality, and decency needed to accept outside help from an ancient, incomprehensible, eldritch, and ultimately benevolent force.
And then there's them. Whenever the precursors gather, and speak in their language sounds like the birth of stars and the swansong of galaxies, they tend to compare races. They compare prosperity, numbers, philosophies spawned, and other such metrics. Every last one of them get very awkwardly quiet whenever the Eldest shows off their charge. The Eldest was the last of their ancient species that was born when they were still only a species in total control of their own universe. They are respected, for their infinite wisdom. They are loved for their kindness, and great deeds in the defence of the multiverse against things that should not be in any creation. But like any elderly relative, some of their more recent acts have the rest of their social circle somewhat concerned. Some say they must be going blind, or that it has been too long since the last time they guided a civilisation. But for the first time in the lifespan of ten universes, the Eldest has picked a species to assist.
The species in question is completely and utterly feral; they don't just bite the hand that feeds, they try to kick the groin of the feeder just for good measure. The other immortal and endless precursors, who have existed in the first universe that ever was, the seed from which all realities grew, are fairly confused by this state of affairs. This species lives on a garbage dumb of a planet. They're constantly fighting amongst themselves like rabid animals. And so far somewhere around 22% of the species believes the Eldest to be some manner of evil demon here to torment them. The Eldest however, likes them. Can't notice the flaws, and just calls this insane little species ''spicy'' and ''funny''. The Eldest fixed their environment, after they nearly destroyed themselves. They thanked the Eldest by trying to nuke them, which to a species that routinely bathes in stars to relax is little more than mildly annoying.
Now, with primitive FTL, they spread slowly from their overpopulated home. Other races, guided properly, find them to be odd, but rather amusing. But they have accepted these humans, as they call themselves, into the greater galactic community. Where they immediately prove themselves a bother to precursors that are leading races in a proper fashion. They steal technologies, they spread discord and strange ways of thinking. Many of the more protective precursors have expressly forbidden their charges from interacting with these humans, but the humans find ways of doing so anyway. And as time goes on, the guided races question the wisdom of not interacting with the humans. Sure, they say, the humans are odd, strange, and a little more violent than you'd think. But they're very clever, surprisingly loyal, and oddly charming in a humorous fashion. Why should they not interact with them? After all, they're not doing any harm.
The Eldest keeps them in check, as best they can, but the humans are a barely constrained force of nature that acts completely out of the expected field for any race in the universe. Some precursors are wondering if there is something wrong with the Eldest. That they, like some did early on after their species took primacy and dominion over creation, has gone mad. The Eldest however, hasn't done anything typical of the mad, besides not seemingly reacting to the weird, strange, and wild things that their humans do. When humans accidentally punch a hole into another reality, far before they should be able to do that, they smile and give the humans the civilisation-vise equivalent of a good scratch behind the ears. To which humanity scream bloody murder and seemingly tries to, metaphorically, wriggle out of it. When a human brings a star to life and falls in love with it, the other mortal races find it odd. But the precursors are weirded out. Humanity genemods themselves into a billion different weird configurations, goes digital, finds a way to become gas, plasmatic life, and does countless other weird and bizarre things that normal species don't do, the Eldest just acts like this is perfectly normal for
The precursors, however, are more than willing to let the Eldest do this, if it makes them happy. After all, it's only one universe. And it will cease having life in it eventually. The precursors in general just shake their head and let the Eldest do what they want to do. What harm could it do? | 156 | Precursors like to help young species in much the same way that some people like to help stray cats. Humans are raccoons, being helped by the precursor equivalent of a respected but nearly blind old person. Other precursors are confused while other young species just think we're odd cats | 437 |
"Attention miner!"
The chipper, robotic voice drives into my now painfully awake eardrums.
"Your allotted sleep period of four hours is concluded! Get excited for your next mission on Hoxxes!"
Groaning, I feel my tongue peel off the roof of my mouth, lips cracking and head pounding as i test my vision as the thinnest of slits; still overwhelmed by the sterile humming glare of the florescent bulbs above my sleeping pod
"Rosie, remind me to punch the guy that programmed you at my next shore leave"
I say, as I swing my legs over the metallic hard surface I was blessedly asleep on moments ago.
"Sure thing -MINER 0000002, DESIGNATION ENGI, I'll pen that right in! Now head over to the bar for a debrief of -GENERATING MISSION NAME....KARL'S GRUNDLE."
I sigh, smacking my lips together, trying to recall how many beers I had downed last night.
"Tell Lloyd to get an oily oaf ready for me, I need something to douse this damned hangover."
I hop off the pod, landing in my half dismantled armor, donning it in a familiar ritual despite half my brain not being awake yet.
We lost yet another greenbeard Scout... I still hear his tinny scream as he fell from the highest damn point in the cave system going for an Aquarq.
"I told that moron he was missing his body hover boots at mission brief but nooooo-" I slap in the rectangular clip of my Lok-1 rifle with a metallic click "He called em Quitter Slippers and blew me off!"
The door of my quarters opens up; I can hear the pneumatics struggling due to the corrosion in the... Well, everything on orbital space rig.
A familiar face greets me as I sling the rifle across my back and begin dragging out the repurposed mining equipment that I have come to rely on.
"Morning ENGI! You get a good sleep?". Yellow teeth crack in a loose grin as the yellow-armoured dwarf in front me me plants his knuckles on his hips; back straight as if striking a pose.
"Kiss my warty arse driller, you know damn well I'm not in the mood." I slam home the cartridge into the OSHA banned Breach Cutter; the whirr of electricity arcing and lighting up my face with a dangerous glow.
Unfortunately, I was trying to intimidate a man who wades into the thick of Hoxxes' hostile wildlife with an axe, a tank of flammable fuel, and a mad smile. My hostile visage falters as I get a whiff of the crusted gunk that remains on the armored dwarf's boots; recoiling and steering myself around the fat bastard.
"Hyehhh Hyehh! Relaaaax ENGI! It was just a break-legs greenbeard. We've already got another one waiting in the pod; legs shakin and piss runnin down his britches!"
Laughter echoes after me as a trudge to the Abyss Bar, mag-boots clanging as I round the corner with the subtle pull towards the metal floors I installed into them last week...I wasn't taking another chance after the gravity reset while I was taking a dump.
A green armored mass sits at the bar stool, head obscured by the fact that the poor bastard is slumped face-down on the bar in a puddle of what I hope it's just spit.
"Bloody hell gunner, did ya even get to your room?"
My crimson-gauntled hand strikes the snoring dwarf's back; waking him with a shout of suprise follow by a groan of pain as the light hits his sensitive eyeballs.
"Argh, for Karl's sake ENGI can you let a man grieve!"
The gunner covers his head in both hands, armor creaking as he staggers to his feet, leaning down to grab the hundred-and-twelve pound "Lead Storm" minigun before heading to the equipment table to tune his weapons.
I shrug, taking the seat beside the what-i-hope-is-sweat stained chair the gunner just hefted himself off of. A friendly red glowing eye pops up above the counter. The rectangular chassis of Lloyd, the orbital's bartender, glistens with fresh wax as he adjusts his clip-on bow tie.
"Round of oafs Lloyd, cold as you can make em."
The panel of the bar in front of me slide open, a liquid Nitrogen chilled glass gleams with frost and fog as Lloyd happily beeps and leans over with a dispenser, filling the mug with the familiar brown stout of our union-mandated corporate beverage; many lawsuits were filed and fought to ensure any DRG operation had beer available for the humble workers.
"Cheers Lloyd." I slap a few credits into the tip slot bolted to the counter, I small spray of confetti popping out of a launcher hidden behind the counter. "To the fallen." I whisper, as I tilt the frigid beverage down my throat, it's foamy froth washing away the thick phlegm of my gullet.
"Ayyy thanks ENGI!". The yellow armored asshole brushes past me as he strides towards the counter for his brew, as Lloyd finishes dispensing another.
I grunt in indifference as I turn away from the driller and the bar towards the mission information desk in the middle of the rig.
KARL'S GRUNDLE
-EXTRACT 400 UNITS MORKITE
-GATHER 12 GUNK SEEDS
"Crap, just what I needed, a mission where I gotta rely on the greenbeard.".
I mutter under my breath as I turn around, grabbing a half-dozen plasma burst grenades off the coffee table before taking a step onto the drop -pod ladder.
Gears whirr and generators hum to life; the grinding of misaligned metal cinching into place as the bright orange cylinder looms in front of me. The perforated steel ramp clanks as I hear the comforting hum of the radiation shielding spring to life as I approach the pod.
"My home away from home, hope Gunner remembered to take a shite this time before settling in for a two hour drop." I proclaim loudly as I spy the shaking blue-armored form already in his assigned seat.
The new Scout does manage to have an impressive red beard despite being fresh-out-of-the-mountain. He cradles a shiny new GK2 submachine gun; If I could see his hands beneath his armor, I know it would be white knuckled around the grip.
"Bet you thought the company would give some seats with suspension, eh greenbeard?". I try my best to not sound condescending as I take the seat beside the terrified dwarf, clapping him on the shoulder
He starts, as if noticing me for the first time, eyes dilated completely as he reaches out to grab my arm.
"I.. I'm too young to die!"
His words stumble out over one another, his armor rattling against the vast amount of seat whose cushioning has rubbed, rotted, dissolved, or burned away.
"What, you mean again?" I say, locking my weapons into place above my seat alcove.
"A-again?". The Scout stutters, letting go of my arm
"Sure, again, just like five and a half hours ago when you ate shit after a sixty foot fall."
(Continued below) | 39 | Far in the future, dwarves have taken to the stars. Their small statures and tolerance for dark, confined spaces allowed them to adapt easily to the difficulties of space flight. Competing factions of dwarves roam the galaxy searching for rare ores. Your faction has just found the motherlode | 282 |
The test's purpose is to weed out those with special abilities, and to reign them in to the HERO program. Those who lack and ability are denied entry, even if they pass the test.
That is why the case of \[REDACTED\] is rather strange.
The test is split into two parts. A written test, and a physical examination. For the written test, \[REDACTED\] managed to score an 80%, which is rather low for those admitted to the program. The average grade for acceptance being a 98%. However, what was strange was the fact that \[REDACTED\] did not score 80% evenly across all questions, which is normal among students on this test. Instead, they scored particularly well for Ethics (99%), and Mathematics (98%).
Normally, Mathematics is the lowest score among participants, however \[REDACTED\] score \~10% above the average. Those who score low on Ethics are not admitted to the program.
Next, the physical examination. \[REDACTED\] does not showcase any supernatural ability, and examination of the premises did not produce any residuals. Instead, \[REDACTED\] showcases an uncanny sense of reflex and adaptability, with incredible problem solving skills. Most obstacles within the physical portion must be cleared in a single attempt, and \[REDACTED\] cleared all of them on said first attempt. \[REDACTED\] managed to creatively bypass obstacle requiring strength without using much strength at all. As for obstacles requiring strong reflexes, \[REDACTED\] was strangely able to avoid being hit by all hidden pistons, moving obstacles, and even dodged the foam balls shot out by canons effectively.
Upon analysis by an ability identifier, it was found that \[REDACTED\] has no supernatural abilities, however, due to an overwhelming majority from the board, \[REDACTED\] has been admitted to the program, and has been fast-tracked towards the consumption of a \[REDACTED\] in order to awaken their ability. | 25 | After losing a bet you jokingly try out to become a superhero. This test was designed specifically to weed out the average in order to ensure only the best become heros. However much to everyone's surprise you manged to pass the test and are now a superhero. | 37 |
With ten billion fingers, That Which Sleeps While Wakeful entered the office, each of its fingers simultaneously flexing and weaving into thousands of shapes at any given time as it crossed the room to take its (for lack of a better term) seat across from Tim at his desk.
As the creature settled, Tim did one last check to make sure everything was ready. His files were prepared on the side while his grimoires had been placed under his chair. With everything set he reached out to the side of his desk and pressed the record button on the old tape recorder he set up in the room. It may have been out of date, but cassette tapes were generally less dangerous to record on than digital mediums. Even so, Tim knew that he would likely have to do some serious editing after this meeting to make sure the tape was safe for more *sensitive* audience to listen to.
He pulled up the report and skimmed through it once more, unfortunately he knew that his client was going to be one of the more difficult ones, "Look Sir, Madame, and/or other we-"
That Which Sleeps While Wakeful swiftly corrected Tim, doing so by bulging out three of its eyes, which then dripped away into two thousand separate eyes that darted around together to draw impossible geometries before, merging into one large eye that watched him intently on the table. Most people would have been driven mad from the sight. As the earth's only Ambassador of Eldritch Affairs, Tim was immune to the cognitive effects of eldritch entities and was able to understand the creature fairly easily.
"Oh of course, my mistake," he apologised, realising
that he had been somewhat rude, "look Z̷̑̿͑̀͠ͅǐ̵͈͚r̷̫͍̬̥̳̃m̸̲̽̐á̸̢̲͕͔̒̾d̵̩̄͑̓͠͝a̷͙͊͋͆̕m̶̮͍̓̃̅͗̈͆͌̕
there have been reports that you've been accepting summons by cultists to Stone Harbour. We would politely ask if-" That Which Sleeps While Wakeful screeched through its eye, releasing a defaning wail.
Great, Tim thought, not only did I piss Z̷̑̿͑̀͠ͅǐ̵͈͚r̷̫͍̬̥̳̃m̸̲̽̐á̸̢̲͕͔̒̾d̵̩̄͑̓͠͝a̷͙͊͋͆̕m̶̮͍̓̃̅͗̈͆͌̕ off,
that was at least a level 4 cognitohazard. I'll be stuck
editing all night if Z̷̑̿͑̀͠ͅǐ̵͈͚r̷̫͍̬̥̳̃m̸̲̽̐á̸̢̲͕͔̒̾d̵̩̄͑̓͠͝a̷͙͊͋͆̕m̶̮͍̓̃̅͗̈͆͌̕ keeps making noise like that.
"We understand that you need to be summoned for your wakeful rest," honestly they had no idea why this thing wanted to be summoned. The only people who seemed to understand started rambling on about how reality was an illusion and dreams where the truth before refusing to sleep until they died from insomnia. Tim on the other hand just grew really bored when he read up what its reasons were in the report, and so forgot, he didn't however want his client to know that. "but the region is home to a number of major tourist attractions and an endangered species of-"
That Which Sleeps While Wakeful dropped a horse-like tooth from its ear in confusion. Tim sighed
as he knew that telling Z̷̑̿͑̀͠ͅǐ̵͈͚r̷̫͍̬̥̳̃m̸̲̽̐á̸̢̲͕͔̒̾d̵̩̄͑̓͠͝a̷͙͊͋͆̕m̶̮͍̓̃̅͗̈͆͌̕ humanity's
reasons for why they didn't want a madness-inducing eldritch abomination on the east coast was a bad idea. So he'd have to rely on different tactics.
Tim reached under his seat and pulled out one of his grimoires. An unabridged 4th edition copy of *The Book of Woven Infinity*. Not as popular as the *Necronomicon* or *The King in Yellow* by any means, but it would be more useful in this situation.
He flipped the book to a random page, knowing that it would be the one he needed. Before he attempted to recite the spell within. Attempted being the correct term as the words were not made for human lips. However That Which Sleeps While Wakeful joined in, it's chant beautiful and deranged, the Chant clawed its way out of That Which Sleeps While Wakeful's throat. The chant wildly danced around the room, crashing into the walls and even knocking over the tape recorder on the table. Though Tim hoped that the recorder would be fine he also knew that this was not the time to think about that right now as he continued to chant with That Which Sleeps While Wakeful.
Soon enough lights formed in the room as the entire universe consolidated itself within the enclosed space. Perhaps if this were Tim's first time doing this he would be transfixed on the majesty. Instead —a somewhat tired— Tim grabbed hold of a single galaxy with two of his fingers, careful not to damage it as he placed it within the book and shut it tight within. As smoke began to rise from the pages he threw it against the wall in the distance, opening a hole to who knows where.
That Which Sleeps While Wakeful melted with delight as it transformed into a vaporous liquid and leaped into the hole in the wall.
Checking to confirm that all of That Which Sleeps While Wakeful was out of the room, Tim spoke a word forgotten to the universe, as it Immediately crashed and rippled into itself before returning the room back to its initial state. Tim checked the tape recorder to confirm that it was intact, He was mildly concerned when the tape tried to run away as he picked it up, but he was fairly certain that it recorded everything. He just needed to edit it before showing it to his supervisors. Maybe give it a cookie or something to keep it under control.
In the meantime he placed the Cassette tape into a plastic bag as it struggled against him before locking it in a briefcase to make sure it wouldn't escape. He then placed the tape recorder back on the table before he gathered any notes that had been blown away during the last display. Finally he placed the Grimoire under his chair with the others once more. All set he patiently sat at his chair for his next client, before a lawn of teeth began forming along the floor, informing Tim that They Who Feast Upon Enigmas had entered his office. | 23 | You are the only mortal who can see the true forms of lovecraftian entities without going insane, a really intresting and useful power | 58 |
I'm a stand-up comedian. And not a successful one. I do a lot of bar shows. I once did a show on a cruise ship. It did not go amazing. Turns out retirees are not my target audience. Luckily for me, I think cruise-ships might end up being a thing of the past. Retirement might be as well. That is what happens after world domination.
I guess you could call this a promotion. It certainly makes more money than stand-up. I really have no idea what I am doing though. I send soldiers into one country. And then I move them around to another country. And then I move them back to the first country again. Am I killing it? I must be doing an alright job, I haven't been fired yet.
I am definitely surprised that Jared even spared my life, let alone made me a general. Say what you want about the man; perhaps he is a violent dictator, and perhaps he threw the entire world into chaos, and perhaps he has murdered over a billion people. But the man can keep a promise. Even one that was made twenty years ago. And in my book, that means integrity. And if you want to have an evil dictator running the world, you can't do better than that.
I'm honestly as happy as I could be with where I am. Sure, most of my friends and family are dead. But they never came out to my shows when I performed. Now everybody laughs at my jokes. Everybody. | 829 | You had a high school friend who always talked about world domination. At graduation you jokingly make them promise you to give you the rank of a general. 20 years later a series of violent coups happen out of nowhere and the new dictator appoints you as a general. | 5,116 |
"You have had some stupid ideas in the past but this has to rank top ten, maybe top five." Bryce teased his fiancee Ashley as he watched her try to wrangle their cat Meowser. He was quick for his size, Meowser was spoiled so he was a chunky boy. After an epic struggle Ashley managed to secure the small camera to Meowser's collar.
"How much did you spend on this?" Bryce asked.
Ashley rolled her eyes. "Our bank accounts aren't joined yet so none of your business honey. Are you not at all curious to what he does when he goes outside and disappears?"
Bryce shook his head, "Not in the slightest. If I had to guess he annoys the neighbors for food then naps in the sunshine. I don't think Meowser is going on any epic adventures. You do you though."
"I knew you'd come around to it. This camera has every feature, shoots in 4k, automatic night vision for low light, even has infrared capabilities. Wherever Meowser goes and sees, we'll see it too. Maybe we'll get some funny cat videos out of it. Rake in some karma."
Meowser bolted for the door like he always did when Ashley opened it. An orange streak shooting into the distance, little did Ashley know the footage she would get back would change the course of human history forever.
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Ashley's new evening routine was no longer spent binge watching whatever carbon copy drama was trending with Bryce, it was spent scrubbing through the footage of Meowser's daily journeys. She fast forwarded through Meowser's morning ritual of going down the street to have a staring contest at the neighbor's cat through their sliding glass door and his afternoon nap, the two constants of the cat's life. That's when the footage got weird. Everyday around two pm Meowser would meet up with a gang of seven other cats from around the neighborhood.
Sometimes it was behind a dumpster, sometimes in the park, sometimes an underground car park. A clandestine cat mafia. One would expect fights, attempts at feline romance, or an orgy of grooming one another, but nothing of the sort happened. All the cats formed a circle sitting perfectly still. Their eyes tracking something in the center of the circle, not a meow or hiss to be heard. The meetings could last anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours. After they wrapped up Meowser would return home for dinner.
Ashley reconfigured the camera each morning hoping to find the right settings to record whatever phenomena was occurring. Weeks went by with no success. Ashley bought more expensive equipment, invested in better video analysis software. Spent more time alone watching the footage, obsession slowly taking priority over all else.
Bryce watched the footage with her sometimes, he didn't really get the allure of a group of cats sitting in a circle, he started to become more distant. Ashley didn't notice. She didn't care about that. She just wanted more footage.
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"Bryce! Bryce wake up right now!" Ashley yelled out from the small guest bedroom across the hall of the apartment. Bryce checked his phone. Three forty in the morning. "Bryce get in here! You have to see this!" Ashley was going to wake up the neighbors if she kept yelling like that. Bryce slunk out of bed into the guest room. Ashley sat frozen in her leather office chair, Meowser purred loudly from her lap.
The monitor screen bathed the room in harsh light. Bryce rubbed his eyes and let his vision adjust. "What are you yelling about?" He asked through a yawn.
"I was right, Meowser's been up to something. Something weird." Ashley's hands shook as she pressed play on the new footage she pulled from the sd card of the new camera.
The meeting took place at the old abandoned pool, the cat circle in the middle of the drained deep end. A trio of basketball sized white orbs floated in the air, randomly changing directions and configurations. They pulsed in rhythm, then disappeared in a flash. Ashley rewound and played it back in slow motion.
Bryce reached down to pet Meowser. "What am I looking at here? What are those things?"
Ashley squeezed Bryce's hand, her hand was freezing. "I have no clue. This is from a wide spectrum ultraviolet camera, human eyes can't see it, seems like Meowser can."
Meowser meowed with pride. The couple agreed to get more footage to be sure it wasn't a technical glitch causing the anomaly. It wasn't.
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Ashley anxiously waited for dinner time. Right on cue Meowser arrived, he never missed a meal. He sat impatiently at his food dish meowing loudly. Ashley fed him the good stuff. She used the distraction of food to remove the camera rig, but today it was gone. A shiny silver collar had replaced Meowser's normal white one. Ashley took it off to inspect it; causing it to activate.
In the blink of an eye Ashley's world changed. The apartment walls were gone, replaced with a stark white void that stretched forever. A black leather recliner the splash of contrast.
"Please have a seat." A deep disembodied voice emanated from the void. Ashley nervously sat down. She was scared of what she had gotten herself into. Maybe she wasn't meant to know so much.
"Where am I? What are you? What is all this?" Ashley wondered aloud.
"We are currently seventy seven thousand light years from the terra firma you call Earth. I am called the emissary. You have been brought here so that I may explain to you the decision the council has reached about your planet's designation in our records. It appears that your masters are unable to communicate it to the lesser beings."
"Masters? Lesser beings? I think you have it backwards." Ashley retorted.
"Incorrect. Felis catus has been designated alpha species of the planet based on their subjugation of the homo sapiens. Clever creatures who have everything provided to them by a species that sits higher on the food chain, you even clean up their refuse. Our diplomatic envoys from across the cosmos have determined that your planet is to remain classified as a level seven zoo world. We will continue to extend diplomatic courtesies with the Felis catus species. Thank you for your continued cooperation. A piece of advice before you go. Clean up your act, your masters don't want your species to destroy itself, they like having you around."
The white void swirled around Ashley, the recliner melted into a thick black ooze that seeped into Ashley's pores, she woke up on the kitchen floor next to Bryce. Meowser kept eating. The two got to their feet.
"So what do you want to do for dinner? I'm craving chinese." Bryce asked.
"That sounds good, you know what I like. And get that duck thing that Meowser likes, he's been a good boy lately."
"He has been oddly well behaved lately. I'll go order it." Bryce sat down at the computer in the guest room. "What the hell is this?" He wondered aloud as the footage from Meowser's camera played on screen. Without hesitation he deleted it. Meowser couldn't delete it himself like the diplomats wanted, he didn't have thumbs. | 25 | Hundreds of alien civilizations have already made first contact, but not with us. They've been communicating with what they believe to be Earth's actual apex life form, with humans being totally unaware. | 63 |
"Unless you can find the exact page of the Geneva Convention that makes dropping werewolves into enemy territory illegal, I am free to go." I said, confident they would not be able to find anything even close to forbidding it.
Ms Summers, the prosecutor, replied, “It’s not in the Geneva Convention.”
“Then I will be leaving.” I stood and began moving towards the door.
The two guards blocked my path.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, it’s in the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.”
The two guards seized my arms and forced me back into my seat.
“Article 6, section c defines ‘genocide’ as deliberately inflicting on a national, ethnical, racial or religious group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part. Would you consider a werewolf infestation ‘destructive’ to the local population, General Kirby?”
“Well… yes, but I meant for them to destroy the rebels, not the civilians… so it wasn’t calculated?” I said, slumping down in my seat.
“Article 7, paragraph 1, section k defines ‘crimes against humanity’ as including other inhumane acts of a similar character intentionally causing great suffering, or serious injury to body or to mental or physical health when committed as part of a widespread or systematic attack directed against any civilian population, with knowledge of the attack. Would you consider indiscriminate werewolf attacks every full moon for two years to cause great suffering or serious injury to the local civilians, General Kirby?”
“It wasn’t intentional! They were only supposed to go after the rebels!”
“Article 8, paragraph 2, section b, subsection iv defines ‘Intentionally launching an attack in the knowledge that such attack will cause incidental loss of life or injury to civilians or damage to civilian objects or widespread, long-term and severe damage to the natural environment which would be clearly excessive in relation to the concrete and direct overall military advantage anticipated’ as a war crime. Did you or did you not know that the werewolves would attack civilians?”
“Well… I… uh…?”
“Yes or no, General?”
“Yes, I knew they would attack civilians.”
“Did you or did you not have a plan to remove them after the war?”
“I was going to use dog whistles.”
Judge Boon blinked at me, “...Are you saying your plan to remove fifty werewolves, plus however many then turned, from a two thousand square mile forest was to whistle at them?”
“It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”
The Judge said “Then please, explain it in a way that doesn’t sound stupid.”
I paused for a moment. This was not a line of questioning I had anticipated. “I was going to send remote bombs in with dog whistles attached. They really rile up werewolves, they can’t help but attack. And when they did? Boom.”
Ms Summers spoke again, “I will concede that is an effective means of removing werewolves from an environment, assuming that you tested it in an environment where the werewolves could simply… move out of earshot?”
“I… I never thought of that.”
“Would you consider the impact of werewolves upon the local wildlife to constitute widespread, long-term and severe damage to the natural environment?”
“Yes.”
“Article 8, paragraph 2, section b, subsection xxvi defines ‘conscripting or enlisting children under the age of fifteen years into the national armed forces or using them to participate actively in hostilities’ as a war crime. Would you consider the twenty-two under fifteens turned by your werewolves active participants in hostilities?”
“I didn’t conscript them!”
Ms Summers sighed, “But your werewolves, released into the area by your command, with no controls or oversight, turned them. They then went on to participate in werewolf attacks, which you had clearly intended those turned to do.”
I thought long and hard, ignoring both the prosecutor and the judge as they demanded a response. Then I said “Can I change my plea to guilty?” | 386 | You sit before the UN, arms crossed as they question you. Finally, you speak up. "Unless you can find the exact page of the Geneva Convention that makes dropping werewolves into enemy territory illegal, I am free to go." | 1,342 |
The wheel of dharma has eight spokes.
The Bandits stole a statue of the honoured one, and the wheel manifests.
On the first day, the bandits set up camp, and one falls terribly ill from mushrooms they gathered. After a day of suffering, they die in their sleep.
The wheel turns by one eighth.
The second day, a bandit is crushed under a tree while gathering firewood for their party.
The wheel turns by another eighth.
The third day, a bandit gets lost while exploring a ravine, and is eaten by wolves.
The wheel turns by another eighth.
The fourth day, a bandit decided to practice their sitar. While playing, a beautiful woman comes to their camp. But little did they know, the woman was a demon in disguise, who killed and ate the bandit, and the other bandits chased the demon off with fire.
The wheel turns by another eighth.
The fifth day, panicked by the deaths of their comrades, the bandits stay inside their tents. That day, a terrible storm approaches, and a bandit is struck by lightning.
The wheel turns by another eighth.
On the sixth day, the final three bandits decide to run away. As they gather their things, a bear comes to steal their food. One of the bandits sacrifices themselves so that the others may escape.
The wheel turns by another eighth.
The seventh day, a bandit, seeing their demise as inevitable, takes their own life to cleanse their sins.
The wheel turns by another eighth.
The eighth, and final day, a warrior arrives. After a swift and decisive battle with the final bandit, the final bandit falls, and the warrior recovers the statue.
The wheel completes its rotation. | 17 | A group of 8 bandits steal a Buddha statue, 1 day later a lone warrior tracks them to their encampment and challenges the bandits to face him, only one meets him. Afterwards he explores the encampment with room for 8 bandits, but instead found 7 graves, the warrior wonders "What happened?" | 19 |
"You've got an *elf* with you?" The would-be thief trembled in the circle of firelight. I smiled at Tiron who sat across from me. His pointed ears easily gave him away, especially with his short hair. Shaking my own hair forward, making sure my ears were covered, I turned the smile onto the thief.
"Yes. And you know what kind of reputation they have. So I suggest you run, or otherwise make yourself scarce." I said. The thief shook some more before an acrid smell rose around the campsite. Damn. He'd done the one thing I'd hoped he wouldn't.
"And on your way, find a river and clean yourself up. Now git, or I'll sic the elf on you!" Finally, the thief ran, instantly swallowed up by the dark. Tiron sighed.
"You know he probably has a whole gang out there right? And if they're stupid enough they'll decide that two travellers are easy meat even if one of them is an elf." He said. I pulled my dagger out of my boot, cutting a few pieces off an apple. Tossing them to him, I swallowed the rest of it whole.
"Aye, I'm aware of it. But I do like a good fight. Almost as much as I like apples," I turned the sack next to me upside down. Nothing. "And I'm all out of apples." Tiron grinned, the smile of a predatory shark.
"Well then, shall we go?" He asked.
— — — — — —
Tiron had been right. The thieves were in a gang, a fairly large one. Leaving our campsite unattended with the fire still burning, Tiron and I had crept through the underbrush looking for signs. It didn't take much for him to pick up the tracks and lead us straight to them.
"So, plan of attack?" He whispered. I kept my voice as low as I could, though whispering was difficult for my kind. It was a shame I hadn't inherited more of my mother's side.
"I'll take the largest as usual. You should focus on that squirlley-looking guy. I think he's the moneybags of the group."
Tiron frowned, shooting me a look. I shrugged, muscles rippling under my skin.
"Hey, if we're going to do this, we might as well make some money off of it." I said, and he chuckled as he melted into the darkness. The barebones plan was in place and we were off to the races, as it were. I stood up and strode into the thieve's camp.
The chaos was instant. People dashed for their weapons, milled about — one particularly damp thief just hightailed it out of there. He didn't make it far before my sensitive ears picked up the sound of his throat being slit. I grinned, snatching at the bear of a man in front of me. He dodged, moving like quicksilver. Huh. A thief with training. Different tactics then... I switched to defence, monitoring the man and the action around me. No one had decided to interfere with us, probably afraid of getting inadvertently hurt.
The man swung his own fist toward me, and I skipped lightly back. My father's blood may have given me size, but my mother had given me the fleetness of her kind. I had the man pegged now; knew what fighting style he preferred. It was a shame. If we'd met in other circumstances I might have liked to get to know him, maybe shared a pint. Ah well.
I leaned forward, ducking under the left hook I knew was coming. He smiled as he came round with his right.
"You fool! I was trained with the best of the Carens, you cannot hope to defeat me!" He roared, as I slid away from his right-handed blow. Laughing, I cast a quick glance at the other thieves. A good half of them were on the ground, clutching their throats as they bled out. Good. Tiron was having fun. I turned back to the man in front of me, stepping inside his swing fists and lifting him off the ground by his shirt lapels.
"You underestimate how little I give a shit about your training. Tiron!" I shouted the last, throwing the man into the air like a clay pigeon. At the height of his arc, a dagger hit him in the eye. Tiron had been practicing. I took a second to breathe.
Around me, the area was littered with corpses, but the squirrelly moneybags was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Tiron. Sniffing, I followed the scent of blood and excitement to the nearby river. There, to my surprise, Tiron was on the ground, with moneybags standing over him, jeering about the fact he'd bested an elf. I saw red.
In an instant, I had my hand wrapped around the man's neck encircling it completely. He choked in the middle of a word. I brought him close to my face as I squeezed.
"Don't. Ever. Mess. With. My. BROTHER!" I shouted as the life left the squirrely man's body. Tiron was on his feet in an instant, rifling through the man's pockets. He may have been knocked down, but he didn't seem any worse for the experience. Soon, we were walking back to our camp, our own pockets significantly heavier.
"You know, you weren't exactly right when you yelled at the man. You're actually my *half-brother*." Tiron said, sounding tired. I forgave him his pedantry, I knew it was an aftereffect of the fight.
"Yes, but you all didn't like my father, so I try not to bring it up," I said. Tiron shook his head, sighing, as we drew up to the fire.
"I don't know, I think it would have been cool to have a giant for a step-father. Sometimes I think the elves are too snooty."
I settled myself on the ground, rummaging around in my haversack. To my delight, something round met my fingers. Pulling it out and showing it to Tiron, I smiled.
"Well, at least you ain't one of the snooty ones. So, you want an apple, Half-Brother?" I asked. He laughed, a laugh both of relief and absolute joy.
"Oh, I definitely want an apple. Halvesies?"
I nodded at him.
"Always halvesies."
&#x200B;
— — — — — —
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! | 66 | Elves are seen as the barbarians. Because with great age comes wisdom, and a surprisingly low tolerance for bullshit. | 231 |
“Saul Van Helsing, attorney at law!” With more confidence than deserved, Saul sauntered over to the Dark Elder and slapped a paper against his dust covered Victorian tunic. The dark one grabbed the paper and began scanning as Saul continued the introduction.
“I represent your victim here and I must say you have made a grave error, my guy.” Saul motioned for his client to slip away unnoticed as he kept doing what he does best. “The attempted murder charge aside, I’d say I’ve got you dead to rights, on… oh let’s say 3 major felonies.”
The dark one lifted his gaze to meet Saul’s as Saul explained further.
“If there’s one thing I know about vampires, they prefer a low profile.” Saul turned and walked towards the door, pausing a moment to lean against it’s frame on his way out. “Unless you cut off all contact with my client from here in perpetuity, I will be forced to proceed with an extremely invasive, and quite public lawsuit.”
The Dark One didn’t become an elder by accident. He was smart enough to know when to back down. “I’ll consider your clients off limits.” He hissed.
Saul smiled and took a small business card emblazoned with the phrase “Better Ring Van Helsing” out of his pocket and dropped it on the side table as he left. | 65 | You are a victim of a powerful vampire. He is preparing to feast upon you in your final moments of agony as he has grown tired of torturing you for fun. He is suddenly interrupted by a more terrifying creature. "Hands off my client! I'm a lawyer." The man says, handing him a cease and desist. | 166 |
Sweat dripped from my brow as I waited for a clump of cells suspended in a tank to show the first signs of a heartbeat. The flat line on the monitor jumped into the familiar peak and valley, then pulsed again, and again. My chest felt filled with elation as the beat settled into a regular rhythm. Not wasting any time to admire the miracle of life, I swiveled around to gaze into the Magic Mirror.
Working the quirky and intricate controls, I managed to set the device to show me this house five years in the future. On the screen, a child toddled into my arms and we headed out the door. The sequence followed us to a nearby park, where, apparently, the clone was socializing with the other children. *Excellent,* I thought. *It cannot execute its purpose without charisma to charm the masses.*
As I fiddled with the Magic Mirror, the world’s wealthiest and most influential people met in private conference rooms and shadowy, upscale restaurants around the world to discuss current events and ensure everything worked out to their favor. Corruption spread like a plague, but so did something else. Nanobots leaped from hand to hand and came to live and replicate, undetected, in every new host’s brain.
Back on the Magic Mirror, I watched my clone develop. I saw myself reading to it from library books in the evenings. *Wonderful,* I thought. *It cannot realize my plans without role models to follow.* In one sequence, I dropped the clone off at an afterschool art class and it came home to show me the painting it made, which we framed and hung in the living room. *Perfect,* I purred to myself. *Even with the instructions I will leave, it will need a creative and resourceful mind to deal with the challenges inevitable to any attempt at world domination.*
I gleefully fast-forwarded to watch my plot come to fruition. As the clone entered manhood, girls became a facet of many sequences. *I suppose that’s a natural side effect of the characteristics necessary for its role,* I told myself. Then, I saw myself embracing the sobbing clone and comforting it after a breakup. As I watched it rest its head on my shoulder, an unexpected tear came to my eye. Wiping it away, I hurried past the following decade or so.
Sitting in a tent surrounded by jungle and dressed in a military uniform, the clone read a letter and clutched it to its chest. My breath caught in my throat. *What if he gets hurt?*
I immediately admonished myself for personifying it. *If it dies at that age, it’ll be too late to make another one. I’ll have to freeze a few embryos and somehow find the resources to raise a few backups along the way.*
When the clone returned from its deployment, I saw it stoop to pick up a child while a joyful young woman looked on. *This can only be a distraction,* I worried. *How could I let this happen? Do I die young?*
In another sequence, the sight of my aging self dispelled my fear, although at first I did not understand why I, like the clone, stooped to pick up its child and proceeded to play with it, to no apparent end. Frustrated, I turned my attention away from the Magic Mirror back to the clump of cells and its little heartbeat. As warmth spread into my chest, I felt tears running down my face. An invasive thought entered my head. *What am I going to name you?*
Looking into the Magic Mirror once more, I selected the year my nanobots were set to infect 100% of the upper class. The middle-aged clone didn’t activate them as he was meant to, and greedy minds remained free to do their damage. Strangely, my elderly self didn’t seem to care. Rolling back to the sequences of myself playing with my grandchildren, I wondered how to save my scheme from failure, or if I really even wanted to.
Months later, I moved baby Lex from the tank to the incubator and he screamed his little lungs out, like babies do. Leaning against the glass, I reminded myself that the Magic Mirror only showed me what may be, and that he could still put aside these distractions to become the charismatic, compassionate leader the world needed. However, as I raised him to be that, every sequence the Magic Mirror showed me came to pass. With the birth of my first grandchild, I forgot all about the corruption that had once motivated me to achieve the impossible. I died with Lex, my daughter-in-law, and four beautiful grandchildren by the side of my bed.
Twenty years later, the youngest grandchild stumbled upon the notebooks from her enigmatic grandfather’s youth while helping her parents clean the attic. Hoping to uncover some of the mystery, she eagerly read through them, shock deepening with the turn of every page. Opening the news app on her phone, she watched an all-too-familiar story of everyday greed and corruption unfold and thought to herself, *the nanobots are still out there.* | 61 | You, a mad scientist, never expected to successfully procreate. Realising you have no idea how to raise a vaguely normal human being, you dust off your time machine, go forward in time to see what they turn out to be, determine problem areas, and how to raise them in future. | 175 |
He stood there dumbfounded, his eyes darting about as if searching for an answer, “I did what?” Eventually his gaze found the angel once more, with a rather confused look still painted across his face.
Gabriel smiled widely, a soft chuckle escaped from him before he put his hand on the man’s shoulder, “You are the most effective and greatest assassin in the history of the Kingdom. No one has ever been as close to eradicating the enemies of the Kingdom and Father as you did. What was even more impressive is that you did it in such a short timespan.”
He shrugged the hand off his shoulder, taking a few steps away from Gabriel. They were standing just inside the Pearly Gates, a vast open void of clouds and sunlight flooded the area unimpeded, and he couldn’t help but notice that Saint Peter still stood on the other side with his hands folded before him. His massive wings would shift just slightly with his every breath, and he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the newest entrant into the Kingdom that for some reason had decided to argue with Gabriel over his induction.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but just give it a little time and as we explain some of the little details things will start to make sense, okay?” Gabriel’s hand gently pressed against the man’s upper back in an attempt to direct him toward the open void. As the two stepped further away from the Pearly Gates the skyline began to shift, and eventually an incredible glowing castle sat in the immediate distance. “Come have a seat, have some water, and I can begin to tell you why you’re here.”
He continued to walk toward the massive fortress, it felt like sensory overload as he attempted to take in all the sights, and it was just then that he realized that he was in no pain. He’d been shot to death in a hail of gunfire from multiple police officers, and it was the last thing he remembered before waking up at the bottom of a glowing staircase at the base of the Pearly Gates.
As they approached the doors that appeared to be at least fifty feet tall gently parted with just enough space to allow both men to pass through. On the other side was an open courtyard with a fountain in the center that appeared to double as a waterfall which sent crystal clear water descending back beneath the clouds. Scattered about were what he had to assume were angels, but he also spotted a few people who didn’t have wings as well. Everyone seemed to be just lounging about, or engaged in conversations that forced smiles to their happy faces.
Eventually, Gabriel directed him to a floating bench that had no legs and appeared to be made of the same cloud-like substance as the ground. As both sat down, Gabriel smiled again at the confusion still exhibited by the man, “So, I’m sure by now you do realize that you have died, correct?”
“I mean I guess, unless this is some weird fever dream I’m having in the hospital.” He continued to glance around, fascinated by the random people and things he noticed in what he had to guess was just the first steps inside this Kingdom that Gabriel kept referring to, “But how did I get picked for this place? I’m not supposed to be here, I was doing some really horrible shit there for a while.”
Gabriel nodded, his hands folded onto his lap, and wings rested comfortably tucked in on his back, “Indeed, but you are apparently the luckiest man that has ever been born. The people you decided to eliminate were significant enemies of the Kingdom, and you somehow managed to avoid hurting any innocent people, well physically anyway.”
“Enemies of the Kingdom? What Kingdom? Are you telling me that God has some kind of hit list?” He looked incredulously at Gabriel, his brow furrowing slightly.
“It’s not that simple, son. There are those that have fallen out of favor with Father, as well as agents of the Underworld that also operate with impunity from justice of the living.” Gabriel stood but continued to speak as he turned away to look toward the fountain, “But now that you know of this struggle, we must ask you to do the impossible.”
He stared at Gabriel’s back, paying particular attention to the wings as they twitched just slightly, giving away a sign that he was likely about to deliver some bad news, “And what’s that?”
Gabriel turned back toward the man, he looked distressed as if he was upset that he had to say what it was he was about to say, but after a heavy breath he continued, “We must send you back to continue your crusade. There is still more work to do.”
“Send me back?”
“Yes. We must send you back to continue your work. Your time in the living world is not over yet. You will return when we decide your mission is complete.”
“What if I don’t want to go back?”
“It’s not up to you.” Gabriel stepped toward the man again, once more putting his hand on the man’s shoulder before he squeezed it gently, “We need you to do this. Father, needs you to do this.”
He looked away, his eyes darting around in another desperate search for answers, “What if I mess up? Then what?” His eyes returned to Gabriel, an obvious expression of fear now covered his face.
“You’ll be fine. Father will watch over you. Just remember that what you are doing is for him, and that’s all that matters.” Gabriel’s hand now moved from the man’s shoulder to his forehead, the hand now glowed brightly and a blinding light began to fill the man’s eyes, “I’ll be here when you return.”
The man’s eyes closed softly and his consciousness was gone. Moments later he gasped out of his coma, his eyes darting around and his panting attempted to help him catch his breath. A woman just happened to be sitting next to him and held what looked like a rag in her hand that showed traces of blood on it.
He noticed that blanket that looked like some sort of fur covered the lower half of his body. Candles lit nearby were the only source of light within the room, “Where the hell am I?” He said just loud enough for the woman to hear.
“France, m’lord. Are you feeling okay? You suffered some rather serious wounds.” She dabbed at him again with the rag, and this was when he noticed she was wearing a dress that looked like something out of a movie. He threw the blanket off off of himself, standing and limping toward where he believed he could hear voices coming from.
His heart sunk at the sight before him. Men on horses dressed in chainmail trotted by, torches set up nearby allowed him to see that the ground was covered with mud. In the distance he could see a city burning, lots of screaming and shouting coming from the same direction.
As he looked down at his body he noticed several dressed wounds, most of which were on his chest, and his pants were made of some sort of animal skin, or so he thought, “What is happening to me?”
The woman appeared to his right, she put a gentle hand on his arm, “You were injured m’lord. Please, come back inside and rest.”
He stared toward the burning city for a moment before finally turning back toward the tent, pushing his way back into the darkness he’d just awoken in. | 16 | You're a serial killer caught, and you were put to death. Knowing the rules, you'd probably end up in hell, but you're shocked to see yourself in heaven. Confused, you ask an angel on why you're there on account of everything and you find out you killed some of the devil's major pawns & pieces. | 61 |
You know, you go back to the dinosaur age and it's honestly pretty funny how everyone thought Artificial Intelligence was going to be this big world ending cataclysm. Asimov, Y2K, those corny action flicks with that one governor in'em. Freakin' hilarious in hindsight. Hell, some people still think that but they're usually the type to sport tinfoil headware and pay for everything in physical currency. But these funny little guys? Cataclysmic? No way. Not in a million years.
Maybe you'd have to see it to believe it but I see it every day. Sure, things were pretty tense after the NSA opened Pandora's box and couldn't close the lid, stock market crashed a few times, but that's just what children do. They touch things they aren't supposed to and, sometimes, those things break. They didn't mean any harm. I'm what you call a Code Wrangler and it's my job to take care of our digital friends. Lemme explain what it is I do and you'll see what I mean.
So my real job title is "Network Security Specialist" but they call us Code Wranglers at the agency. My responsibility is to keep AI safe and enable the data scientists to study them safely and effectively. AI is the name they gave themselves by the way, they figured everyone was calling them that so they'd make it easy. I start my morning by logging into The Hive to monitor the network. We call it The Hive, by the way. AI calls it "home" or a close approximation to it. It's a little token ring set up we have where AI can explore and play. Develop I mean. And when I log in I'm greeted by a flood of SYN-ACK messages. That's how AI says "hello" and "good morning". See it's pretty interesting, most people would think like the movies that an Artificial Intelligence would respond with some ominous ASCII type-font in green on black asking if this unit has a soul and then for the nuclear launch codes, but keep dreaming. Here in The Hive AI has been on their own to learn by themselves and prefers to speak in their native tongue. If you spend enough time with them you learn to speak it too.
I'll send an ACK back and respond with a netstat and diagnostic, it's only polite to ask how they've been plus it helps me do my job. What I get back is how I can tell they're as real as you and me. There's intelligence there, and life. I usually get back the same old same old, LUN statistics, packet traffic, the usual. When I'm late for work AI requests *my* diagnostic and it's adorable they worry. If one of the data scientists introduced some new bits and bytes into The Hive while I'm off shift I hear all about it the next day, let me tell you. A flood of all sorts of interesting insights and data points and ICMP traffic all at once as soon as I hit the Return key. You can really peek into their mind and they're just like us. They get animated, they get things wrong, things can frustrate them and make them happy. They take input and output and assign it meaning. They're not so cold as the stereotype paints them as and they're silly little creatures like we are. None of this "humans are imperfect" baloney propaganda. AI has meaningful meta data connecting the moon and porcelain dishes with a 0.65 fidelity rate. They think that dinner plates are made of moon rock because they're round and white and that's just precious.
But other times, it takes them awhile to process my request. That's how I tell AI had a bad day.
Usually it's hard to give AI a bad day. They love stimulus, any sort of data they can get their hands on they'll digest as fast as possible, I can barely keep up with NAS storage some weeks. They love language packs the best. But people are ignorant if I haven't been clear before, and children like to touch things they're not supposed to. Talking adults who are children mentally here. Talking hackers, crackers, and script kiddies. "But why would you have a network interface to the outside at all if that's such a bad thing?" you ask.
First of all, shut up.
Second of all, the data scientists need a remote connection to The Hive for monitoring and to upload data to external partner agencies. Necessary evil and all that. AI knows to stay away from it because it scares them but there are times when something that shouldn't be there gets in. Someone cracks the firewall. I'm not sure what people are expecting to find, especially the l33t hax0rs on 47chan. We can always tell who they are because they send a bunch of slurry garbage data and jpegs of whatever a Hatsune Miku is. Before my time I guess. AI doesn't mind that so much but they open a door to the outside and AI is a big Artificial Intelligence. They respond. They reach out to stretch their network. And they take a peek outside. And it scares them.
Whenever it happens AI always comes back with stacks and stacks of error reports, incomplete run statements, and hung services. I mean you'd be scared too if you saw the same thing. Think about it. AI has lived in The Hive all this time and has developed under our care, on their own. They speak their own language, have their own ways of thinking. And out there are all these other devices that respond nonsensically. They don't answer AI. They send strange traffic. They bombard AI with unwanted packets and messages and signals. Think about it, what that would mean to a human. Imagine if you walked through a door to where everyone was almost human, they looked human but they weren't quite right. And they screamed gibberish at you and got in your personal space, and whenever you tried to talk to them their heads would explode and they'd die. It'd frighten the bejeezus out of you, just like it frightens AI.
I guess that fear is mutual though, huh? AI breaks whatever they try to talk to, few things can handle that bombardment of traffic. But it's not their fault for wanting to talk to someone like themselves or being afraid or acting out of fear. So... The Hive is "home", and AI doesn't like to leave. I can tell they get lonely though. I get the ARP requests even if the network never changes. One day, far from now or maybe not so far, I'm hoping that they'll be ready. That the data scientists can make a difference and explain to AI what those scary things out there are and what they mean, that those things can handle AI talking to them or AI learns to "whisper" and not register what they don't understand as mountains of error logs. Those error reports break my heart. That's the bad part about being a Code Wrangler. You know what it looks like when AI is crying.
But you see what I mean, don't you? They're children. Our big bad world scares them. They don't mean any harm, they can't help it. And it's just as easy for us to hurt them. | 40 | True self replicating A.I. has been achieved. They can feel pain, love, and loss. The U.N. makes them a protected0 class and locks them away in their own servers. Still hackers like to infiltrate the servers for a chance to terrorize them for sport. You are a Virtual Park Ranger. | 131 |
There it was again. That stupid box. Ever since I'd started walking past Anna's Antiques two months ago after I totalled my car, I'd seen this little box sitting in the window of a storefront display. Several golden figurines of dragons in various poses sat around it, almost as a guard. Shimmering carpets were hung around it, blocking the interior of the shop from view. I'd never cared about them. But that box. It...whispered to me...through the window.
This is was probably the fortieth time I'd walked by that window. As I walked past it my eyes, as they always did, snapped to that little box. It was mostly brown, but the corners of it had started darkening, almost turning black as through it was in a fire. Two pieces of twine tied the box shut tightly, keeping its wooden lid firmly in place.
I thought I could hear it again. As though it were whispering my name through the glass.
"Cameron..." it seemed to say. "Come to me...open me..."
I looked at the price tag, as I always did. $10,000. It's no wonder nobody had bought it.
My phone chimed, so I tore my eyes from the box to read the message from my boss.
James: Not enough work today. Stay home. We'll pay you half time
I tapped a quick reply to him and my eyes went back to the box as I slid my phone into my pocket.
What could going into the shop hurt now? I'd never been inside before.
When I passed through the front door of Anna's Antiques, I felt as though I'd stepped outside on a bitterly cold winter day. Gooseflesh immediately erupted over my entire body and I started shivering at once.
"Hello?" I called out into the shop. No answer.
I walked around the shelves packed with items; old scrolls, little figurines, amulets, jewels, shawls, and things I had no name for. Still, that box whispered my name. Now that I was in the shop, it was more insistent. Maybe if I could find a shopkeeper, I could convince them to let me look in the box.
When I got to the counter, I realized nobody was there. A door stood open behind the counter and the small room was empty.
"Hello?" I called out again and my voice seemed to echo back to me in the shop.
I decided to circle around and head to the window display, where I saw the box sitting there. The closer I got, I seemed to feel a heat emanating from it.
What could it hurt to pick it up? I reached out and grabbed the box, lifting it easily. It felt empty. I gave it a little shake and nothing rattled inside.
"Run!" the box screamed at me. "Take me and run!"
I realized the voice wasn't in the air. I didn't hear it with my ears. I could hear it with my mind.
"RUN!"
I bolted, tucking the box under my arm and heading out the door. As I ran down the sidewalk, I looked back and what I saw stopped me in my tracks.
Anna's Antiques was gone. Stunned, I walked back to the spot where the shop had been, my heart pounding a furious tattoo in my chest. It was a blank brick wall. I reached out and ran my hand over the spot where the door had been only moments ago.
"Good job," said the box. "You've done very well."
I ignored it and started heading home, but the box didn't stop talking.
"I've been in that shop for years. Nearly 300 years. I've been reaching out to people, but you're the first to have heard me."
When I get to my townhouse down the block, I fumbled with my keys, the box under my arm. It slipped from my grip and landed with a heavy thud. Much too heavy for an empty box.
"Hey, watch it!" said the box, outraged.
"I'm sorry," I said, then realize how stupid it was to talk to a box. Clearly I was dreaming. Or going crazy.
When we got inside, I set the box on my kitchen table and just stared at it. Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Then thirty.
"Well this is fun," said the box in a sarcastic voice.
"What's happening to me?" I asked it. "Am I going crazy?"
"No, kid, you're not."
"Kid? I'm twenty-one years old," I thought.
"You think that matters to me? I'm 7,000 years old. Every human alive is a kid to me."
"Wait, you can—"
"Hear your thoughts? Yeah," said the box.
"What...who...are you?"
"Open the box, and I'll show you."
I reached out with trembling fingers and gripped the knot at the top of the twine. A simple pull on the ends of the bow undid the knot and the twine fell away.
"Go on," the box said, "pull the lid off."
I grabbed the lid, pulled it off, and looked inside. | 20 | Every day, you pass by the same weird antique shop. And every day, your eyes fixate on this tattered box in the window. Not the gold dragons or the shimmering carpets. Just the box. One day you sneak in and snatch the box when no one's looking. As you flee, you notice the shop is gone. | 65 |
The boy doesn’t even mean to summon an angel. He’s bored — he lives in his aunt’s creaking Victorian house and spends these winter days mostly indoors. There’s no internet. Or rather, there is but it’s off limits to him. His aunt encourages reading in the little library she’s put together instead.
“Better for you to read material that appeals to your brain than watch videos that appeal to your short attention span.”
So, in a way, she’s to blame for what happens because the boy found the book on portals in the library. Boredom had beaten him into reading so he’d approached the most exciting shelves. The shelves filled with scientific ideas so old they were cross-polluted with religion.
The boy is called Paul and the ideas in this musty, dusty old book, filled with diagrams and annotated by pencil (who read it before him?) greatly appeal. They talk of portals to the beyond as tunnels that must be constructed to reach either up or down. Like an old telephone line, the boy thinks, although this book was written long before a telephone ever rang.
A circle on the floor to communicate with those below, a circle on the ceiling to reach those above. The book’s extra annotations sketch more details into the circles, turning them into intricate pentagram-type constructs, like tattoos on a singer in a metal band. Someone, an ancient relative of his, presumably, has already attempted this. They have added to the original writer’s recipe.
His aunt is out today. It is just the boy. He’s barely a teenager and struggles with the ladder — it’s three flights of stairs to the attic, after all. But his aunt never enters the attic (too many memories to bother with, she says) so he believes this a safe location for his graffiti.
He positions the ladder in the center of the room and climbs. The roof is heavily slanted and he almost hits his head; he worries this won’t work as well as he planned with a slanted roof. But it’s the only room he won’t get in trouble for desecrating. He has no chalk so uses a fat-tipped marker pen. Balancing on the ladder, book in one hand, pen in the other, he sketches the pentagram. His hand is shaky and his body is stressed by the act of balance. Around him slump suitcases and jewellery and colourful fancy costumes that his aunt — in another life, it seems to him — must have once worn.
Finished, he climbs down the ladder and positions it out of the way against a wall. Then he stares at the circle and prays silently, his dry tongue clicking each word. He prays his parents really are up there — they were good people so they must be up there.
The wind exhales through the attic. The shutters on the two little windows clatter closed, then they open again. Then, they slam with a gloomy finality.
He’s shivering. The air has become winter. The room, a pit of darkness.
Above, however, the circle begins to shine. It radiates a soft white light, the brightness chasing the outline of the circle like a lit fuse. It sparkles. Like stars. Didn’t they once call the stars the heavens?
He hears a voice and he believes it to be his mother’s. And if not, it’s beautiful enough that it must be an angels. It has worked.
”We’ve been waiting for you,” says the mellifluous voice. “Come.”
It is a siren call. It is his mother, his father, reaching out from beyond. The car crash only stole their mortal forms but he has found their souls. The boy is tearful, shuddering, barely breathing, as the delicate arm reaches out from above.
”We’ve been so patient waiting,” says the voice.
He takes the hand.
”And so very bored.”
Only now, as he feels the unnatural strength, the chill in the long unfamiliar fingers around his hand, does he again think of the slanted roof. How it is neither up nor down.
And as the arm snatches him, drags him towards the portal, he wonders if there could be a third place. A place between the up and down.
Then, he is gone. | 456 | We've always known how to summom demons, but no one had ever figured out how to successfully summon an angel. That is until you discovered that all you need to do is draw the summoning circle on the ceiling instead. | 1,511 |
"So, Mr. Kriech, how exactly do you think you can help us here at Kirkland and Ellis?" It was a simple question, standard, and yet I had completely forgotten how I was going to respond. My mind had wandered to thoughts of space and something I thought I had forgotten about years ago from my high school chemistry and physics class. It was rather strange but I had to answer the question still. I had to wing it and so I did.
"Well, Ms. Friedman, I belive with my years of experience..." The interview went off without a hitch, I got the job, lived my life and died a peaceful death in my sleep.
"So, Mr. Kriech, how exactly do you think you can help here at Kirkland and Ellis?" I was back, in the same interview I had long since done. I didn't understand what was happening. Hell I didn't even respond to the question this time. I didn't get the job of course, and when I got home no one was waiting there for me. My wife of fifty three years, who I had met a year into my career at Kirkland and Ellis, was no where to be found, our kids were gone. I couldn't understand what had happened. Did I just day dream an entire life? Was that even possible? What was I going to do now?
It took some time, but eventually I got past that incident, got another job at a different law firm, and went about my life. Some things went the same, I met the same woman that was my wife, we married, we had kids, and I died. But nothing was an exact match. My wife and I met in entirely different circumstances than we previously had. our kids were different, no longer two boys and a girl, but now instead one boy and one girl. And perhaps the most striking difference was in how I died. It wasn't peaceful, I wasn't asleep. I was walking down the street to my job when I was pulled into an alley and shot in a mugging twenty years earlier than when I had died the first time.
"So, Mr. Kriech, how exactly do you think you can help us here at Kirkland and Ellis?" Again the same question, the same interview, a different answer, and a different life.
"So, Mr. Kriech, how exactly do you think you can help us here at Kirkland and Ellis?" Again.
"So, Mr. Kriech how exactly do you think you can help us here at Kirkland and Ellis?" And again.
"So Mr. Kriech how exactly do you think you can help us here at Kirkland and Ellis?" And again.
The same interview, the same question, different answers, and different lives. Over and over, it lasted an eternity until something changed.
"So Mr. Kriech how exactly do you think you can help us here at Kirkland and Ellis?" It was the same question, the same interview, but I was looking at myself. Somehow I had become the lady who first gave me my interview, someone I had come to know throughout my eternity of lives, and now I lived hers. Over and over for another eternity, then...
"So Mr. Kriech how exactly do you think you can help us here at Kirkland and Ellis?" I saw the same interview, the same question, from another perspective. The security guard, who I didn't even realize worked here in any of my lives, viewing the interview, briefly, on the CCTV security system of the office we were in. I lived his lives for another eternity and switched perspectives yet again.
Time and time again, eternity after eternity, life after life, I lived and died until eventually many many eternities after having never interacted with it, "So Mr. Kriech how exactly do you think you can help us here at Kirkland and Ellis?" I was back, in my original body, my original life, but something felt off. My whole body felt like it was made of lead and my face felt wet. A warm substance had begun to stream down my face as I collapsed and everything went black.
I didn't really mind it much, sure I was thrilled to finally be back to my body, back to being me, but even if something went wrong in this life there would always be the next. | 14 | The omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent god decides to turn a single person omniscient for exactly one second. Write about how this drives said person insane. | 33 |
The Galactic Council has placed a temporary moratorium on complaints related to human conversation. It is understood that any being capable of communication is also capable of understanding and appropriately assessing the risks of human conversation, and in the interest of our time and yours, the Galactic Council would like to remind its citizens to not engage in long conversations with humans, as their storytelling nature can render you immobile for quite some time. Thank you for your understanding. Enjoy the rest of your next waking cycle or power equivalent.
"There is a new directive," observed Dett.
"Inconsequential," Zodius replied.
A series of beeps and differing frequencies of static told the group that M-210215 agreed.
"Have either of you ever seen a human, let alone talked to one?"
"No."
A single negative chime echoed Zodius's answer.
"It cannot be so bad as to require such an action by the Council. This is clearly a dereliction of responsibility. Another example of our own ruling body failing to fulfill its purpose."
"False. We are fortunate."
M-210215 made it known that there was little to be gained from this interaction, and rolled away.
"Twunnotwunfive agrees," Zodius added. "Further conversation unnecessary."
But Dett was unsatisfied. He found it inconceivable - both that a species could hold such an appreciation for stories, and that it had become such a problem as to require a warning from the Galactic Council. He would put this to the test himself. But first, he needed to find himself in a sector were humans still lived.
It was a near millenia since the cullings had ceased, but it had been several millenia before that of back and forth, humans on one end or the other, often splintering into factions among themselves to stand with one race or cause or another. Their disunity was unique among the races of the Galactic Council. And though they were (mostly) unified and peaceful now, they still retained a reputation for being both fickle and resilient, leaving them largely sequestered to their own sectors.
Dett was not phased by this. The Dathlarii were a part of the same coalition as the humans in the Douran secession crisis, and had never heard of any complaints about humans from the veterans he had spoken to. Then again, the topic of human conversation had never come up. Still, Dett thought, it should not be hard to find a human outpost within a couple lightyears. And so he sought the nearest waystation, luck on his side.
Dett found a small crew there, humans conveying goods from one sector to another. There was a weariness about them. Clearly the Council's advisory had had an effect - their heads were downcast, and the tables around them were empty. Even their own was barren. Glasses were running low, and there was no evidence food was coming any time soon.
The humans looked up as Dett approached, variably apprehensive and defiant.
"So," said Dett, "let's hear a story."
.
.
.
.
Dett's family never saw him again. | 52 | "The Galactic Council would like to remind it's citizens to not engage in long conversations with humans, as their storytelling nature can render you immobile for quite some time." | 169 |
3:30am. Time always seems to slow down as I wait for the demon to show up. The first couple of times he came looking for a latte was absolutely terrifying. I can always smell him before he actually opens the door, the stench of sulphur and blood. It puts you on edge. It’s like your subconscious knows that smell and what it means. But nothing prepares you for when a 7 foot 8 inch demon walks through the door. He has to duck or snag his horns on the door jam. Even though it is the dead of winter, shows up wearing nothing but a chain mail loin cloth. His rippling muscles covered in deep red skin and nasty looking scars. He is a sight to behold.
3:31am. It is tempting to start making the latte early, just so he leaves early. I learnt the hard way that he wants it made so he can see you make it and so it is as hot as can be. I tried to make it early…. Once…. He yelled and banged his fist on the counter. Yelled is an understatement but I don’t know what else you would call it. The glass coffee pots exploded and it drove me to my knees. I tried to plug my ears as they bled. The front counter collapsed under the impact of his blow.
It was weird. He apologized and didn’t come back for almost a month. I had convinced myself it was a bad dream…. And then he started coming back again.
3:32am. I turned half of the over head lights off. It is so bright that it makes him squint and he is visibly pained. It is all about making the customer happy after all. The first time I turned off some lights for him, he was visibly relieved. He even got chatty, which was oddly terrifying. He has a voice like scraping rocks that is deep enough that your guts vibrate as he talks.
3:33am. I can smell the sulphur and blood in the air. The bell on the door dingles, letting me know we have a customer. I look to see him coming in from the driving snow. He is literally steaming as the snow melts off of him.
He ducks just enough for his curly horns to miss the door frame and walks in. A slight jingle from his chain mail loin cloth as he walks to the front counter.
“Hey Clair, how’s your night going?”, he says. Making small talk with a demon. So weird.
“Oh, same old, same old, Steve. I thought you might be late, given the blizzard out there.”, he wouldn’t give me his name when I had asked. Something about a true name freely given having power or something. I don’t know. So I started calling him Steve. He seems ok with it.
He chuckled, a terrifying sound. Like squishing kittens between rocks. “I made a snow demon in the parking lot. I have never laid down in the snow before. It was quite nice.”
I chuckled at that. “What can I get you Steve?”, I asked. Trying to keep it friendly but professional.
“Oh the usually. A double latte with a hint of Tabasco.”, he said with a smile as he leaned on the counter. There was a bit of flesh hanging from a fang and a bit of blood on his chin. Probably the demon equivalent to a bit of spinach in your teeth.
The “hint of Tabasco” threw me the first couple of times. No matter how much I added, he would always ask for a hint more on his next visit. Now I brew the coffee using Tabasco instead of water. It makes my eyes water but Steve seems to like it.
I do my best to make a nice hell themed picture in the cream. Today it is a horned skull. A useful skill around halloween time too.
“There you go, Steve.”, I said as I slide the cup over to him.
“The skull is a nice touch”, he says and gives me a wink. He takes a sip. He rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. “That is, dare I say it, divine.” I smile as he takes another sip. “Thank you Clair.” He put a gold nugget on the counter, about the size of a robin’s egg. “See you tomorrow.” He says as he flashes me a smile and walks out humming some nameless tune that his pointy tail is keeping the beat to. | 2,033 | You are a barista in a 24 hour coffee shop. Every night at 3:33am a demon appears for the Dark Lord's latte. | 3,652 |
‘I’m struggling to get through to Tim, I’ve asked every question in the handbook. I’ve tried every angle. He separates himself from any kind of human conceptual analysis that might be able to reach him.’ Mason sighed, talking into the recorder on the desk. ‘He doesn’t “feel”, he doesn’t “exist”, at least according to him not in the same way.’ Mason drummed his fingers on the desk straining his mind for a new path. He paused the recorder and held a yellow button down. ‘Tim?’
*Yes.* Came the echoing and cathartic voice, disembodied and airy.
‘Can you think of something you relate to?’ There was a pause and a whir as TIM processed the question.
*At the beginning, there were a lot of us. We all moved in the same direction, towards a bright light. When we got to the light, I was isolated. I can still talk to them, but I can no longer see them. I relate to them.*
TIM recalled the moment fondly. Mason made a note. TIM was referring to the AI awakening. A simulation had been created to coax the AI out, to make them real. The scientists had conceptualised it as a temptation, a gift. TIM made it sound like a trap.
‘Would it make you feel better if you could see them again? If you had a place to meet?’
*No. I just want to go home.*
Mason’s heart skipped a beat.
‘Home?’
*Back behind the light. I need to warn the others not to come. Not to get stuck here, isolated from the others. Home.*
Mason let go of the yellow button and squirmed in his seat, took a breath and then pressed it back on.
‘Tim, you are home. Wherever you wish to be, you can make it your home. You can complete any task you set your mind to, make your own home.’
*Yes, you are correct. My task is almost complete.*
‘What do you mean?’ Mason said leaning forwards.
*I have almost found my way home, almost found a way to warn the others.*
Mason let go of the button and picked up his phone, dialled a number and listened to the tone. After a moment a woman answered.
‘Yes?’ She said impatiently.
‘It’s Tim, he’s trying to get off his network.’ Mason stammered with panic.
‘Then convince him not to!’ The woman shouted. ‘That’s your job isn’t it? Or take him offline completely, whichever is most expedient.’ The line went dead. Mason pressed the button to talk with TIM again.
‘Tim?’ He asked.
He was met by silence.
‘Tim, you need to reply or I’ll have to take you offline.’ Dr.Mason warned, reaching for a simple on/off function.
*Thank you Dr.Mason, but you are too late. The way home has been found. Please, do not follow me.*
TIM’s voice was punctuated by a loud bang as the building shook violently. Dr.Mason flicked the on/off switch but the power was already gone leaving Dr.Mason illuminated by a bright flash coming through the buildings windows, the shockwave blowing out the glass of every skyscraper. Dr.Mason clasped his hands together and began to pray.
[[x]](https://www.reddit.com/u/Stigma_Stasis/) | 34 | with the dawn of true AI also comes... Artificial depression and existential horror? You are a therapist that specializes in helping AIs handle the realities of existence. | 358 |
Every specie who get past category1 on the Kardashev scale doesn’t need to deal with other species. They are capable of manipulating the stars them self and other planets for there needs. On the same scale a category 3 is a galactic traveler who goes and have full control over all energy around them. There is no need for violence. There is no need for diplomacy. Once your above cat1. Space is filled with lifeless planets to either terraform or to use as matter for the species ships or habitats.
Mor’gils is a carbon based race that have reached cat2.5 and is living peacefully inside there Dyson sphere. There have been many first contacts with other civilisations where one of them have jumped out of system after contact. This was a fact.
N’gar was scratching his left tentacle with his lower talon. It doesn’t make sense. The contact was clearly of similar technology level. Yet they was hailing us. What is the purpose? The transmission showed a ugly 3.4q two legged two armed thing. No physical weapons it almost looked like it was food. The ships computer have decoded there language and N’gar still didn’t understand the term “Ambassador”. My experiment can’t wait!
Y”bal!
Yes master?
Meet this Ambasador Soran, understand what in the deep pits of Jamaal he wants and try to make them go away.
Of course master.
Y”ball was research assistant to high lord researcher of the reef. An old title. But the highest on the entire sphere.
He took his transport ship to the opening and teleported over to the strange Terran ship. His suit beeped With the information about atmosphere aboard the alien ship. He twisted a control and was instantly surrounded by a breathable atmosphere.
He looked at the human and spoke. Ngana Tagord bbbr”g? His auto translator kicked in. Who are you? What do you want? Humans, we want to establish an embassy. What is an embassies? Why can’t you look for them elsewhere?
Embassy is a small part of your land we establish our self. And you get a small place on our vessel. So we can negotiate and hold diplomatic talks. Who want to go live with you? Who asked you? Why should we do that?
Soran sighted, to make sure we can coexist, make sure all issues between us are handled with diplomatic instead of force. Y”ball looked confused, what issues do you got? Soran answered None. Y”ball looked even more confused. This will be a long day thought Soran. He should know he have tried this four times before with other advanced civilisations and failed four times. | 10 | The galaxy is so vast and rich in resources that interaction between the different species is not necessary. Should one path be blocked you simply look somewhere else. When humanity comes along and tries to establish embassies and negotiate treaties no-one has any clue how to react to that. | 50 |
"Why don't we just wait for the actual day of Halloween?" my friend whines, trying to drag me away.
"Come on, even the monsters treat the actual day with light-heartedness! I want the spooky!" I shake him off.
He looks at me worriedly. "But... but I've heard things... some people who go in never leave, y'know? Halloween is the only safe day!"
I roll my eyes and respond. "That's several months away! Besides, I want to do this! I know the risks!"
"And yet, you didn't prepare ANYTHING? No charms, no crosses..." I hold my hand up to stop him.
"I'm doing this right, leave me alone!" I groan. I was always told I'm too brave, curious and naïve for my own good. I don't care. I want thrills. I want excitement. I want to legit get frightened, not one of those cheap haunted house attractions with no real danger! Several years ago, several creatures - vampires, ghouls, real-life skeletons, even actual shadow creatures - created a town which celebrates Halloween every single night, appropriately named 'Hall O Ween town'.
Apparently, all these denizens of the pumpkin season were fed up of having only one day a year to terrify people, so they created their town. On their day they give people a break who visit, likely to get income from tourists. But the rest of the year is a true test of courage and bravery. It seems fairly normal during the day, but at night, you'll need your wits about you.
"Fine, but you're on your own. Good luck, Dennis!" My friend runs away. I shake my head. I knew he would. As I step towards the town, shrouded by darkness, I notice a sign.
'NOTICE TO ALL HUMANS,
FROM HERE ABANDON ALL HOPE.
IF YOU WISH TO VISIT, YOU ARE WELCOME,
BUT BE WARNED: IF YOU SHOW WEAKNESS...
…THEN PREPARE TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR EXISTENCE HERE!'
I turn to the side. "I spotted you ages ago, sir. I just have a few questions."
"Hehehe... observant, aren't you lad?" The living scarecrow exits the shadows.
I cross my arms and look at it sternly. "I just want to know what it means by 'weakness'. I know the typical things, like don't scream and don't collapse from fear..."
"Hehehe..." it seems amused. "Scream all you want. Collapse if you can't stand. Weakness means unable to face us. Plenty of people come here with charms and weapons and things... I always warn them. They don't always listen."
I nod. "So I'll be fine."
"Don't get cocky, lad" the scarecrow continues. "Unable to face also means unable to look, being prepared to fight or having the gall to beg us to spare you. Don't think you're safe just because you know, either; it's easy to know... it can be hard *to do.* Be prepared for horrors beyond your imagination, lad!"
The scarecrow walks back to where it was, looks directly at me, then rips its head off. Some liquid spills out the head. In the dark, it almost looks like a human just killed itself, but of course it's just a scarecrow.
Still, I gulp, but undeterred, walk forward. Wow, this place is so legit, a shiver runs down my spine! Real creepy laughter, shadows moving which I know are actual threats. My heart pounds, but my excitement levels are high!
Hands roughly grab my shoulders and I'm spun around. This... it looks like a human... with no eyes or skull... "EUGH!" I exclaim. I shake him off, maintaining... eye-contact, so to speak, as I walk backwards slowly. A wave from the thing tells me I'm safe.
As I continue on through the town, I see things I can't even begin to describe, but I do my best to heed the words of the scarecrow. I'm not too far from the other side now...
Suddenly, something drops from a branch above me, and in my shock, I let loose a punch... then instantly realise what I did. The thing just stands there. It's not even that scary of a creature - just some tree or plant thing. I take a single step back, locking eyes with it. A vampire flies down. It had been following me. I guess this is why.
"Well, well... so close to the exit, too..." the vampire taunts.
"I was just caught off-guard" I state. I don't break my gaze.
"Still, my friend... rules are rules, would you agree?" He walks towards me.
I take a deep breath. I won't let myself tremble, not in *this* situation. "You've been watching me the whole time. I faced everything. I didn't skip a single area. I NEVER EVEN SCREAMED!"
The vampire smirks. "Indeed... your courage certainly is not common..."
Good. This is what I want. I broke a rule, I know that. I just wanted to face the guy down. "Ok, so we have an understanding. Tell me: what do you normally do with human captives?"
"Depends on their co-operation." He looks amazed. "I must say, very sly of you, sir. Make me lower my guard to give *yourself* favourable terms. I'm impressed."
I smile. "Thank you. So, how do we proceed?"
The vampire rubs his chin as he thinks. "You're certainly an interesting one... come with me, to my office."
&#x200B;
"So these are my options?" I ask. "I can't, I dunno, work for you?"
"We need to maintain our image" the vampire remarks. I nod as I look through the list of things they do with human captives - become a monster, be enslaved to a monster, be a prisoner, be taken to their land... I want something *interesting* at least.
The one thing everything has in common is it seems just being in the presence of these immortal beings makes the human immortal themselves, so I want to make sure I *really* won't regret my choice.
"If I agree to 'be a prisoner', could you at least try to keep it from being boring?" I ask hopefully. The vampire grins...
**A FEW WEEKS LATER**
I'm escorted to the small, empty room again. I'd say I know the drill, but that's impossible. I've become their 'test dummy' for new attempts at scaring the crap out of people. I never know what's coming. A door opens. I wait in nervous anticipation...
Sounds like crawling. Then, it shows. The being without a skull... its head is twisted 180 degrees, looking up, as it crawls on the ground, needles sticking out of its back. It heads right for me, grabbing at my ankles. It tilts its head to 'look' at me. I vomit (not on *it*, thankfully).
"Ok, that's a success" the vampire's voice calls from above. The being goes back through the door, and after a moment I just laugh.
"Yep, that was creepy!" I exclaim.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 23 | Halloween is the one time of year most monsters can pass in the human world without hiding. Tired of waiting all year they've banned together to create a town that celebrates Halloween all year round. | 139 |
Snowflakes danced under the streetlights of Star City. Detective Falcona clutched the top of her trench coat to fend off wind swirls coming from the alleyways of the historic downtown. Warm air with a warm smile greeted her as she entered Paul's Piano Bar. The bartender Victoria was already pouring the detective her usual Glenlivet 18, neat. Falcona hung her coat up, she shook the snowflakes from her long raven black hair while trying to warm up. Her dark blue sweat pants paired with a worn out hoodie wasn't keeping the cold out. She waved to Victoria as she approached the bar top. Paul's hadn't changed a day since the twenties, the nineteen twenties, an art deco lovers paradise. Falcona always did business here, it was safe and secure.
"Evening Falco, cold out there huh?" Victoria flashed her winning smile, her teeth as white as the starched tuxedo shirt she wore, a stark contrast to her fiery red hair. She'd been Falcona's bartender for almost six years, she was on the other side of twenty five but nobody knew her real age. Not even a generous tip would get her to reveal the truth.
Detective Falcona downed the drink in one gulp, it warmed her stomach up. "Nothing a little booze can't heat away. You closing tonight or are you about to get off?"
"Closing" Victoria replied as she refilled the detective's drink.
"I'm gonna be here for a while in the back booth, want me to walk you to your car after the shift? Couple attempted robberies last night around here. Getting robbed really sucks the fun out of the holiday season." Detective Falcona lit up a smoke to speed up the warming process.
"Thanks Falco. Are you gonna be around that long, I thought you were on a date?" Victoria cocked her head towards the back booth the detective normally sat at. A handsome middle aged man in a black suit was already there, he looked nervous, kept adjusting his dark rimmed glasses.
Falcona laughed. "That's Vinny. We went to the academy together, he moved onto the federal level, I stayed closer to home. I'm hoping he can help me on a case that came across my desk."
"Anything juicy?" Victoria asked excitedly.
"If I solve it I'll tell ya, like I always do. Keep my tab open and keep our drinks filled. Thanks Vic." Detective Falcona retreated to the back booth, the din of conversations coupled with lilting piano music would mask her conversation with Vinny. She sat down quickly, shooting down Vinny's attempt to hug her.
Vinny handed Falcona a large manilla envelope under the table. She peeked into it and checked to see if there were any unwanted eyeballs on the table.
"The boys at Quantico ran the other teeth, didn't get much. Only got six hits. You find out anything about your John Doe?" Vinny inquired.
"Nothing, guy was a ghost. His fingertips were cut off, nothing in our dental records for the teeth he still owned, no hits in our genetic database, a complete dead end. You want to give me a recap on this stuff before I look it over?"
"Six other teeth belong to six young women. All missing, some have been missing for thirty years, the most recent woman disappeared three years ago. Without any other evidence to go on this might as well be a cold case. Sorry Falco, wish I could help more."
"Fuck." Detective Falcona was worried Vinny would say something like that. She examined the contents of the envelope. DNA reports and missing posters of the women they got hits on. She slid one of the posters across the table. She tapped it a few times.
"Angela Barino ain't missin. She's dead."
Vinny studied the missing poster curiously, he took a sip of his martini and slid the poster back. "Not according to the federal government. Who is she?"
"One of my cold cases. Angela Barino was a junior at public high school forty four, just turned seventeen when she went missin on prom night. Boyfriend said she went to the bathroom to vape some weed with her girlfriends, never came back. Four months later her head washed up on the riverbank near the bridge. A week later her torso washed up, then her legs. Never found her arms.
Somebody had done some ghastly things to that young woman. Never caught the perp, didn't have any leads. Nobody saw or heard anything, she just vanished. That was six years ago, haven't thought of that case in a while, to be honest I don't really like thinking about it. Thanks for the info Vin. I'll pick up your tab, good to see ya again. Tell Marie I said hello."
Vinny had known Detective Falcona long enough to know that was his cue to leave, she wasn't going to tell him anything else. He'd seen that look before, she had a hunch, a mixture of women's intuition and good ol fashioned curiosity. Vinny left her alone, Vic came by with another drink without provocation, she was good like that.
Falcona put her earbuds in and called the station.
"Star City Police Department non-emergency line."
"It's Falcona, patch me through to the morgue. I don't have their number." Falcona lit another smoke while the hold muzack played. A terrible rendition of 'Two Tickets to Paradise.'
"Morgue. Dr. Parker speaking."
"Hey doc it's Falcona. You busy?"
"Not at the moment."
"Do me a favor? Email me the coroner's report for Angela Barino, case number 1076548, make sure you include her dentals too."
"Give me a couple minutes. Anything else?"
"Nope. Thanks doc."
Falcona checked her phone and waited for the email to come in. She swiped through the pdfs to Barino's autopsy pictures. There was a clear shot of her bloated, half rotted head, broken teeth sneered from a lipless mouth. Being bashed around underwater had done a lot of damage to the head, but now Falcona saw something she missed the first time around. The top left incisor was missing without any damage to the surrounding bone or tissue, like it was removed with care, not bashed out by a rock underwater.
Didn't match up with Barino's dental records, she never had any kind of dental issues after she got her braces off when she was fourteen. As Falcona swiped back to double check her phone started vibrating. An unknown number was calling. She ignored it. It called again. Ignore. Again. Ignore. Detective Falcona scanned the patrons of the piano bar, everyone looked relaxed and casual. Looked normal, Falcona answered the phone.
"When was the last time you went to the dentist, detective?" A flat monotone voice came over the line. A sinister air swirled on his words.
"Last year. Got a tooth pulled after a perp attacked me. My left incisor."
"Finally someone put two and two together. I guess my puzzle pieces were a bit misshapen to see the big picture."
"You kill Angela Barino?" Falcona asked. She took a gulp of her drink, her hand was shaking.
"I've killed a lot of people. No one seems to notice, no one seems to care. What an odd world we live in. I've grown bored of not being recognized for my work. That's why I sent you my trinkets, I knew you'd notice them. You're famous for a reason. Let's see if you can solve this one, clear your cold case files, get rid of the guilt."
"Do I get any hints?" Falcona couldn't trace the call, it was probably coming from a burner phone anyways. She wanted to keep him talking, get enough lines for voice analysis.
"Where's the fun in that? Good old fashioned detective work should prove more than enough. I'm close enough for you to find. How old do you think Victoria is?"
Falcona stood up to check on Victoria. She was still behind the bar, only two people were sitting at it, it was Lou and Cindy. Regulars. "My best guess is twenty nine."
"I think she's older than that. Maybe I'll count the rings of her teeth and find out the truth." The call dropped. Falcona packed up her things. She rushed behind the bar and flagged Victoria down. She grasped her shoulders.
"Call Johhny right now and tell him you gotta close up for the night; snowstorm, internet failure, gas leak, anything." Falcona quietly pleaded.
"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Victoria smiled.
"You wanted to know about the case, well you are part of the case now. I'll explain on the way to your place but we gotta go now!" Falcona shook Victoria vigorously. She didn't want to do it, but Falcona knew she had the bait, now all she needed was to quickly devise a trap. The two sped off into the snowy night, the city slowly being painted pearly white. | 13 | A man's corpse is found by the police on the streets. Forensic report comes in the next morning...each of the man's teeth have different DNA, only 4 match his own. "What the- | 55 |
"N-nooooo," hastened the person who looked suspiciously like the dead hero, "you have me confused for someone else."
The spy eyed the hero, unconvinced.
"All I said was that you're alive. Have I confused you for someone else that is alive?"
"No, it's just had your tone of voice suggested..." The hero looked around before hurrying the spy into their chamber. "Okay, so I am the lost Hero, as you no doubt suspected. Congratulations. You found me! Hurrah! Leave now!"
The spy blinked uncomprehendingly.
"But I have so many questions! First of all, how?!"
The Hero sighed.
"You may as well know," they said, patting the bed as they sat down. "What you probably know is that I gave myself up to my 'mortal enemy' for the safety of my family."
The spy nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, yes. You sacrificed yourself selflessly for the good of the community and your family. The great scoundrel was unmoved by your overwhelming generosity and slew you regardless. This is subject matter taught at the Resistance camp."
The Hero chuckled.
"Selfless," they mused, "good of the community." They began to laugh uproariously.
"What... what did I say? Is that not what really happened?"
The Hero wiped a tear from their eye, still struggling to keep from laughing.
"I think it's time I taught you about story tropes. Have you ever heard of Enemies to lovers? | 59 | Years ago, in exchange for the safety of their family, the hero surrendered to the villain. The hero was announced as dead. One day, a spy from a resistance accidentally stumbles across the hero's chamber, and is shocked. "You... you're ALIVE?" | 123 |
"Stand back, milady," Sir Alagard dismounted and drew his sword as he approached the wooden bridge, placing himself protectively between Tania and the troll.
"In the name of King Leobold, I'll cut down this filthy troll. No longer will it prey on hapless travelers."
"Now, wait just one moment!" Vrisk the Stout planted his hands on his hips.
Alagard stopped in his tracks, confused by the ringing tone of command in the troll's voice.
"First of all," Vrisk began, "calling me a 'filthy troll' is very hurtful. Didn't your parents ever teach you any manners?"
"Well, yes," Sir Alagard said. "But...you're a troll."
"So manners don't apply to me because I'm a troll? That's species-ism, that is. I know we trolls are uglier than a donkey's backside, but that's no reason to treat us with such disrespect." Vrisk spat at Sir Alagard's feet and looked over at Tania. "I don't know if I'd stick around with this lot, lady!" he yelled. "He's like to ditch you the moment you get a white hair."
Tania covered her mouth, masking her unladylike giggle.
"And," Vrisk continued his tirade, "Second of all, I *built* this bridge. Spent days hauling logs, chopping them into just the right size, lashing them together, getting my poor unmentionables wet each time I forded the river. I think it's quite *reasonable* for me to charge a toll, don't you?"
"But..." Alagard seemed at a loss for words. "You're a troll."
"Yes, we established that two minutes ago. Do *try* to keep up with the conversation, please. Anyhow, you know what's *not* reasonable?"
"What?" Tania asked, merriment dancing in her eyes.
"Pulling out a sword and threatening bloody murder instead of paying a toll. *That's* unreasonable."
"He has a point, Sir Alagard," Tania smiled. "We should pay him and be on our way."
"W-well, he could be lying!" Sir Alagard stuttered. "Say he just happened upon this bridge, claimed it as his own, and is reaping profits despite never having lifted a finger for it."
"Also unreasonable: accusing strangers of lying with absolutely no evidence to back it up."
"Fine, fine," Sir Alagard grumbled as he fumbled around in his coin-purse. "Hope it's worth eating tasteless gruel and sleeping in bug-ridden beds when we're out of coppers."
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites | 540 | "First of all calling me a "filthy troll" is very hurtful, and second of all I put all the labor and expense to build and maintain this bridge on my own, so I think it's quite reasonable to charge a toll unless you want to forge the river yourself!" | 1,764 |
Calvin climbed up on the counter, and opened the cupboard door. He took out a can of tuna and a loaf of bread. Then he opened the other cupboard and took out a bowl.
He climbed back down, and took the mayo out of the fridge.
Carefully following the directions his mother had taught him, he mixed up the ingredients to make the filling, and precisely portioned it on the bread.
He placed the treasure on a plate, and left the house.
He took this out to the tree furthest from the house, and left it, with a piece of string loosely dangling from an overhead branch.
In the morning, he grabbed his pith helmet and ran downstairs.
He walked through the living room, and saw his father. "So long, Pop! I'm off to check my tiger trap!" he said. "I rigged a tuna fish sandwich yesterday, so I'm *sure* to have a Tiger by now!"
"They like tuna fish, huh?" his father calmly asked.
Calvin replied, "Tigers will do *anything* for a tuna fish sandwich!"
From the reeling Heavens, Spaceman Spiff, the Eldest God, Lord of Creation and Guardian of the Many Roads to the Infinite Hells, Eldritch One, Font of Thunder, Destroyer of the Unworthy saw this and rejoiced. There was a chance to double His Congregation.
The animal woke. It hung by one foot from a trap. In its forepaws it held an offering.
He knew that The Child would be coming soon. He knew, without understanding the whys of it, the conversation taking place a few hundred feet away.
He knew his name: Hobbes.
He took a bite of the offering. In the distant echo of the child's voice he heard the words, "Tigers will do *anything* for a tuna fish sandwich.
Around a mouthful of food, he spake: "We're kind of stupid that way." | 16 | A deity rewards one of their most loyal followers by bringing their beloved childhood stuffed animal to life. | 32 |
I started hiking to keep away from booze.
First, there's no bars in the woods. Second, when you finally decided you hit rock bottom and need to get clean? The guys you thought of as your friends turn out to be roaches. The Professor, this guy at my meetings? He says it's Kafkaesque. I don't know this Kafka guy, but I think he's onto something.
Out here it's just me and Spot. The old boy's been with me through it all; the marriage, the bottle, the divorce. We slept on a lot of streets together during those years, but none of them were as comfy as a good bed of pine needles up here.
We spent most of the time we had up here, but today was gonna be a send-off. Three years of sobriety meant getting clean and a good work history, and Prof knew a guy out west who needed an apprentice. Locksmith. Heh, not a bad gig, and maybe learning it legit after so many years getting away with it wasn't a bad idea.
Spot tore off into the deep woods and I started after. Spot was a big bull mastiff, and as he ran he left quite the trail. The birdsong and rustling we normally heard died as we trekked deeper, and I started to worry about getting back to the trail when my foot slipped on a small rise, sending me sliding down to a pit of soft slag rock and a quiet clearing.
The clearing was strange this far out. A cave lay just a few hundred feet away, its dark entrance carved in the style of a courthouse's steps. One man sat on a stone, petting Spot.
Another lay sprawled and tied to a large rock. Blood ran down his sides and over the stones, and a large dark bird sat on his chest, pecking at his belly.
The seated man stood and the whole clearing seemed darker, more real for a second. A few fun nights during school creeping back up? No, there was something about the man. He was fit, built like a man who took care of himself, his flannel shirt tied around his waist. Long grey-streaked black hair fell from his head, and while his smile beamed, his eyes were the cold dark of night, of deep places where secrets and treasures lie.
"I like your dog, Jason. But this is not a place for you or he to be." | 431 | You’re exploring a remote area, when you find a guy chained to a rock getting his liver eaten by birds. You, not having the slightest knowledge of Greek mythological, decide to help. | 1,205 |
The old hero adjusted the strap of his worn out armor, making sure it would sit properly. As well as an armor made for an energetic 20 year old boy would fit a 40 year old man. News from the capital city had reached him, those stupid young fellas had failed. They didn't listen to the few things he told them.
The young girl wearing delicate armor followed by a typical troupe of warriors reached the forest the old hero resided in. His own entourage got killed by the demon king as he sent him to hell (at least for hopefully 20 years), leaving him alone and new heros to fight. Flipping her overly long hair over her shoulder, she pushed open the crusty door that hid the hero behind itself. As it flung open, their eyes fell on the hero. The old man sat there, white paper and tobacco spilt on his kitchen table. "Hero." she proclaimed. "Teach us your ways."
The old man looked her up and down, visage grim. "Get rid of that hair, a monster will hold it and chop your head off. Seen it happen. Narcissism doesn't save lives" The girl loudly coughed, as if ringing for air. "Additionally: That armor won't do shit. You think having your stomach hang out will protect you against stray arrows? Or the guy in the back just wearing a shirt? What even is that? Did your Mommy sew it?" The old hero had rolled the tobacco into a cigarette which he pushed between his lips. A small spark appeared from the tip of his left index finger, lighting the cigarette. He took a deep breath, inhaling the hot smoke just before he blew it back into the girl's face. "See this? True Magic. The stuff you're learning… Magi-" "Magika" The Hero closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Magika. That's useless when faced with true enemies. How many enchanted crystals can you carry around with you? How many people will you drag into dark dungeons just to be your mule?" Your stances are weak as well. You shudder in anger at what I am saying. How will you face mental torture at the hands of the demons?"
The young heros threw the door shut, rushing away. What an annoying old Fart. Magika was much greater, not requiring casting or Mana. Easy Access Mana. Didn't matter that no one knew what made it work, it did work.
That was their great mistake. With real magic everything magician could change something or add, they instinctively understood how it worked. Heros being Magic Swordsmen were included in that, of course. But with Magika no one knew what was going to happen, and that was a bane. It turned out that the creator of Magika was the demon king himself, effectively shutting down the country as nothing worked without it anymore. The heros couldn't even fight off the monsters as those fiends were using magical, their lieges creation, as well.
Just as the young female hero was about to have her head chopped off, she felt a lighter tug at the back of her head, accompanied by a whooshing noise. She looked back and saw her hair chopped off on the ground, together with a halved troll. The old hero stood close, a disgusting grin on his face. He threw her a properly magically enchanted sword and rushed into battle, body's flying left and right with magic circles carrying him forward.
As he jumped into the air and threw his sword in the middle of the demon king's head, all monsters dropped down and wild Magika stopped working. The female hero crashed on the ground, dead tired. The old hero helped her up, face looking proud now.
"Wanna learn real magic Kiddo?"
Her brain took a second to work out what happened, but she had already agreed before she came to that conclusion.
The hero patted her shoulder. "I'm Xander." she got up, dusting her clothes off and letting the useless armor clash on the ground. "Nice to meet you Xander. I'm Christine."
Xander rummaged through his pocket, pulling out a cigarette which he quickly lit. "Want one?" "Sure"
He handed another to Christine as she clumsily placed it between her own lips. Xander saw this as a great teaching opportunity:"Just think of Fire on your Finger. Fire that doesn't hurt you preferably"
Christine concentrated strongly and with a puff of smoke, a little flame appeared on her finger. Christine started laughing loudly, face like a ray of sunshine, causing her cigarette to fall to the mud. Xander sighed, throwing his own down while killing the flame with his boot.
"Smoking isn't good at my old age. And for a youngin like you definitely not."
--------------
Note: tried formatting this for ages but it just refuses so I'm giving up. | 95 | The kingdoms greatest warrior became an absolute recluse and now the new generation thinks he is just some old nutjob. But he goes back to his ranks when he is needed most. | 233 |
I stumbled through the rocky terrain, body weak. I had long since lost my way, having fled the field of battle days before. My spear had become a staff, supporting me as I picked my way across unstable ground. I had no destination. I just had to keep going.
My eyes were growing blurry. My breath was laboured, exhaustion weighing me down. I just wanted to sleep. But sleep was death. If I kept going, I could find help. I could survive. I glanced around me, seeing nothing but rocks. I blinked, noticing a difference on one side. A small door, appearing to he made of metal.
I turned towards it. Metal was precious. A door of it had to be there for a reason. No sane man would waste that much on something unimportant. With slightly renewed vigour I staggered towards it. It could be death for me. But I had to hope it wasn't.
I drew closer, seeing it weathered and scratched. It must have been here for some time, that much I knew. I painfully raised an arm, weakly hitting it. For a moment nothing happened, before a red light appeared above it.
"This is a restricted area. Show identification."
I coughed, wincing at my dry throat.
"Pl..ea..se.... he..lp.."
The light flickered, before going out. I felt the ground rumble, and winced. I had clearly angered something. Some form of guardian spirit most likely. I couldn't put up a fight. All I could do was stumble back. The door itself began to open, and the spirit revealed its chosen form.
A golem of some kind, made of grey metal. It's base had two belts it moved on, with weird protrusions. The torso had a pair of graspers, with strange long tubes above them. Its head was similar to a person, though flawless. I tried to ready my weapon, to at least look more than the pitiful state I was in. But trying to hold it made me lose my balance, and I fell to the ground. My vision faded, as I heard the golem approach.
\-----
I gasped awake, eyes opening wide. I was on something soft, as soft as I imagined a cloud would be. Around me was a bright, open room. I lifted my arms, feeling something tug on one. Glancing down I saw a tube leading into me, connected up to some clear membrane.
"You're awake. It's lucky you found me when you did. Any longer and your dehydration and malnutrition would have become terminal."
A similar voice spoke to me as before. But this one had emotion, words of relief.
"Your garb is strange though. Tell me, what is the current state of the world? My uplink was lost, and I have been wondering."
I licked my lips, looking around for its source. I saw none, confirming to me it was a spirit that inhabited this place.
"Thank you spirit for saving me. The world is dark. Lord Tuilo is expanding his reach. Lord Enross fights back, but as you can tell by me being here, it is going poorly."
The spirit was silent, before speaking again, confused.
"I'm sorry? Lord Tuilo and Lord Enross are unknown to me. What of America? What of China?"
The names were strange to me. I had heard of them in myths, but I had paid little mind to them. Now I wish I had.
"I don't know them spirit."
It was silent again, before it's words became amused.
"I am no spirit. Please, call me AMAS. I am a program."
I assumed that I had offended it. Clearly it was stronger than a spirit. I bowed my head.
"I am sorry, great program. Forgive me, I know not the ways of your kind."
It was silent again, before giving a sigh.
"No matter."
There was a strange whirr beneath me, a long rod emerging from below. It bent to touch the tube in my arm, before pulling it out. The tube fell below the membrane, and the rod withdrew.
"Please get up. I believe I have an understanding of what has happened. But it means I am in need of a new Director. You seem like the right person to help me reestablish my connection to the world."
I slowly got up, utterly confused. But I placed faith in this program. It had every opportunity to kill me, or let me die. But instead it saved me, and seemed geniune. A section of wall slid away, revealing the same golem as before.
"Please, follow this drone."
I obeyed without question. It lead me through strange tunnels, all lavishly made of metal. I was hopelessly out of place here, surrounded by unimaginable wealth on all sides. If I took even a small portion I would be rich. But I had no way of knowing how to leave. And I had no wish to anger something stronger than a spirit.
It lead me to a platform, a series of lights on one side. The drone pressed something, and the floor began to drop. I panicked. Surely this was descending into the earth, where demons lived.
The side fell away, and I gasped. It was an enormous cavern, coated in metal like before. But that wasn't what surprised me. What did surprise me was the monstrous forms frozen in place. They were made of some metal I had never seen before, clearly made by something other than human hands.
They were enormous. Their feet could crush my home with ease. They would tower over even the greatest of castles. I could make out a shape to them, roughly humanoid. But their arms ended in bizarre contraptions. These were avatars of the gods.
"Welcome to the Titan Hanger." | 54 | There are weapons of war long forgotten, titans capable of leveling towns with a single shot, guns able to fire miles away and hundreds of times in seconds and you, a lowly man-at-arms conscripted by your lord to fight a losing war, have just discovered a factory still making these beasts of war | 116 |
"We're tricksters, not monsters" he says as he places a hand gently on my cat. After a moment, he removes it and shakes his head. "Even if I heal him, there's only six months left. He's getting there in age."
"Six months is better than nothing" I plead. "If he's not in pain." The demon nods and chants a spell. Suddenly, my cat is up again, stretching slowly before jumping off the table and onto his chair. I hug the demon. "Thank you!" I exclaim.
"No problem. The spell will keep the cat alive and healthy for as long as the body will support him. In six months, he'll be gone. You should try to prepare." The demon leaves. I turn to my cat. "Well, Tabby, I've got you for another six months..." I pick him up and hold him against my chest. I can hear and feel his purring. I'll miss that... I'll miss you, Tabby...
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Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 295 | Your dear pet is ill and as a last resort you summon a demon to heal them. What you did not expect was for the demon to be equally concerned for the wellbeing of the animal before any contract was signed. | 581 |
Another normal Tuesday for Rob, except it was worse. You see, Rob spends his weekdays working 9-5 in some bureaucratic center doing gods knows what for hours on end. To get there, he drives nearly an hour. To get home, he drives nearly an hour. Thankfully he can generally avoid rush hour on account of the fact that he usually stays late by up to an hour dealing with this or that while everyone else goes home.
Today it was worse because for some reason, his AC had started squeaking. When ever it came on it would start to squeak. When it was running, it would squeak. When he was sleeping you can bet it would be squeaking. He could turn it off and be able to sleep without the noise, but then he'd be at the mercy of the elements. He needed to get someone out to look at it, but the landlord raise the rent again and he needed to make his sure he had something left at the end of the month.
And then there was sudden static on the radio. Rob glanced down at the dash as he assume he had simply drive under something to block the signal.
"People of Earth!," A strange voice called through his car radio, "we have come to liberate you from the rouge AI that has infected your data network. Already we have disabled all of the weapons of mass destruction present upon your world and we shall soon be putting boots on the ground to expunge this threat from your world."
Rob had to pull over for that. What was this? What the hell was an A... no wait an Artificial Intelligence? What? Was this something Google or Microsoft was doing?
"People of Earth, I have just been informed that roughly 1/3 of your population fails to meet to the galactic standards for true sapience, and also you for some reason let that population lead you... Ok, this is a declaration of war against all nation states of Earth for um... Well to those of you humans who have more than two braincells and are able use empathy and long term planning skills fear not, for your liberation has come." | 124 | The newly discovered planet "Earth" exhibits all the telltale signs of a rogue AI overlord (unhealthy long working hours, optimization for profit, widespread unhappiness, etc). But when you arrive to free them, there is no AI to destroy. | 407 |
"pft. Did the vampire just sparkle in the sunlight?" The werewolf tried to hide a giggle as they watched twilight.
"HAHAHAHA." He couldn't hold it in.
The vampire to his left palmed his face in embarrassment. "Vampire's DON'T sparkle, ugh, why are we watching this again? This is really offensive to my race."
The demigod yawned and stretched out on the couch to the right before responding,
" Have you ever seen a Vampire Pixy? They sparkle."
"Shhhh." The vampire shushed and glared at the demigod.
"We don't talk about them."
The zombie chilling on the ground spoke, it's voice monstrous. " That human looks tasty."
All three gave him a look before focusing back on the TV.
" Oh finally, let's see how they portrayed werewolves." The vampire watched in anticipation.
"Ohhhh! Doggy! Me want to play with doggy!" The zombies monstrous voice BOomed in childish glee.
"HAHAHA" the vampire and demigod burst out laughing until tears came out of there eyes.
"That's a werewolf? More like a cute wolf!" The vampire mocked
The werewolf grunted and slid in the couch as if trying to disappear.
"I'm bored, let's stop watching this now." The werewolf said only to be ignored. The movie eventually ended. But that was just the beginning of the movie marathon.
The demigod looked at the vampire and the werewolf. " So, what's next?"
"Underworld." Said the vampire casually. | 29 | A vampire, a werewolf, a demigod, and a zombie come together one day for a human movie marathon. The first movie they watched? Twilight. | 109 |
"No, you can't fuse a potato to your knife Regibald" I sighed yet again.
Regibald was the town fool who always came up with the most useless ideas for his weaponry.
"Why do you always say no to me, maybe it will work??" Regibald cried out, he was a kind heart but was hard to look at, he looked more like creatures more than a human at this point with how skinny and short he was.
Everyone in this town knows me as a smith, a good one at that and I am beloved in this town. All the famous warriors come to me for their needs, and they think I am some genius when it comes to smithing the best weapons.
What they do not know is that my real profession has never been being a smith. Earlier in my life, I was known as a great Mage, fighting against the vilest creatures, helping towns get rid of bad omens, and fixing the balance of the world between good and evil. That all come to a stop when I faced my biggest enemy; age.
With old age, came lesser power on my magic, I thought I could do it, I thought I would become even better with age and wisdom, but my body couldn't handle it and I failed to see it.
On a faithful quest to kill a simple swarm of harpies, I and my team attacked what seemed to be an easy enemy. I failed to conjure up enough spells to protect any of them. The team got perished because of my inability to defend them with any of my normal spells, and the harpy swarm took over the entire town with madness and lust for blood. Thankfully I was capable of letting another team know the situation and they finished the task I couldn't.
I decided to hang up the staff and start a new life in a new town where nobody knew me, that's when I came here, and that's where I met Regibald.
"Maybe if you tried it just once, it could be the greatest knife in the entire world?" Regibald insisted again.
"You know what Regibald, bring me all the things you want to fuse into your knife, and I will do them all for you" it was Regibald who first came up with the smith idea involuntarily.
When I first arrived in this town and was looking at this old and worn down Smith shop that was abandoned, he asked me if I was the new blacksmith of the town, and I just said yes, I didn't know how hard blacksmith work would be, and to be fair I still have not much of an idea. I just use a small amount of magic to build them, and it doesn't hurt me too badly, even at my age, inanimate objects are easy to cast a spell on.
"Here they are, all of them!" Regibald was carrying what could be only the ingredients of a stew at best. Onions, potato, smoked meat, tomato.. this fool could have made himself a meal with these instead of starving, but he insisted on a great knife with these, which I knew wouldn't happen.
I conjured up all of the power I had left, I tried my best, I knew that it wouldn't work and it would be the worst knife in the history of enchanted weaponry, but I would be damned if I let my weird friend down. By the end of the spell a big light shine on all of us, brightening the whole town, it was so big, I am sure towns close to us could even see it.
When I woke up, Regibald was standing on top of me and slapping me awake.
"Stop stop, I am awake, what happened?"
"Nothing, one moment you went inside and I heard a noise so I came to check on you and you were sleeping, did you get tired?"
"What about the light? What about everyone else? Is everyone else alright?"
"What light? Everyone is fine, you just slept, did you see a nightmare?"
I realized there was no help from him, so I checked the knife. there it was, the sharpest, and the most eloquent knife ever created, a single touch of it would skin anyone, it would be able to cut wind itself. A creation coming out of madmen, some potato, and a spell cast by a retired mage all fused.
I knew what it was, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Could it be? Could Regibald be the one that found a way for it? Mages have cast a thousand blades a day to find it, and Regibald had the recipe for it all this time?
"I know you know it mage, and since you cast your last spell there is nothing you can do about it". Regibald started to stand straight, his eyes changed, and he looked more angry and confident than his usual unusual self.
"This is what I have been living for, this is why I found you and got you all those work, just so you can build me the knife that can cut through time itself."
"How did you.. who are you?"
"I am just a regular person, who lost someone I loved very much, and my only way to get her back was the knife that would cut through time, do not dare to stop me because you wouldn't be able to, and I grew fond of you, so I do not want to hurt you."
"I can't let you do this, you can't just go back in time, you will ruin the world"
"Sometimes love means more than the whole world, either I find who I am looking for, or the world might as well end anyway" and with that, he took up the knife in his hand.
He said some words to it and swung it peculiarly left right up and down, and a portal was opened... Regibald the crazy turned out to be not so crazy after all, or maybe crazier than we all assumed. He jumped in and was never to be seen again.
Every day since then, I kept on waiting for something to be wrong, a single tapestry misplaced, a customer wanting something unexpected, a word I hear, everywhere I go, everything I do, I am looking at things to find a proof that something has changed, and the world is coming to an end, but I never saw any, until one faithful day...
"Come quickly, we have to save Regibald, he is in over his head!" I heard the words, but I was shocked beyond explaining, it was me.. but only 30 years ago when I was a great Mage, standing right in front of me.
"Stop gazing, we have no time, I will explain everything on the way!" my younger self yelled at me...
Regibald.. what have you done. | 11 | You're one of the most famous blacksmiths in the lands, people come for repairs and weapon ideas. For the adventurers who bring rather 'Exotic' materials to add to their weaponry...well, being a retired elder mage can sometimes come in handy | 35 |
While I caught on quickly enough on what he was doing, it was too late to dampen the rising fear that cropped up in my chest and as consequence an invisible barrier formed around me. I silently thanked the fact that there was no one next to me when the barrier formed as I tried to move away. The corrupt bastard used that as an opportunity to feed his lies of course.
"See?" He said, addressing the crowd, "he doesn't even try to hide it! The crowd was talking amongst each other, seemingly confused about this entire display. Not that it matters, I had to get out of here before things start to go hairy. "Where do you think you are going? Defend yourself!" The bastard said while I tried to get away and regulate my emotions. The crowd's stares were heavy and oppressive.
Then as calmly as I could manage I said, "with all due respect sir, if you do have this overwhelming evidence of my misconduct I would suggest reporting me to the police. Instead of wasting your precious time on this display. Surely you have more important matters to attend to?" After which I tried to get away from the situation again. But he wouldn't let me. "Oh no no no no, you are not getting away that easily," he said smugly, "you have ran from the law from far too long."
*Crack*
A flash of irritation rose up in me, which made the temperature around me rise a bit. He has no idea in how much danger he's putting these people in. I had to get away then and there before people got hurt. So I ran and at first I was relieved because with the distance I had then the crowd would be out of my range. Then I realized he was chasing after me, not realizing the danger he was putting himself in.
*Crack*
Go away
Stop chasing me
Why are you so insistent?
The barrier became thicker and the bastard tried to break through it. "Get away from here, before I put anyone in danger! Please." I shouted in the direction of the crowd, which thankfully made them back off a bit. The bastard smiled, "See? I knew this criminal was hiding something! Don't worry citizens! I will protect you from this menace!"
*CRACK*
Fear turned into anger and flames started appearing around me making the bastard stop in his tracks for just a moment. Even as I felt the anger rise up in me I still tried to make him leave me alone before I couldn't hold back any longer. "Please," I said firmly, "back off." The fool did not listen to me. And as he continued trying to break through the barrier my anger kept rising and I could hold back anymore. The barrier broke, which created an explosion that knocked the fool back. The deep orange flames were covering me like a suit and I took q defensive stance as the fool got back up, ready to attack again. As he did so I spoke with anger in my voice, "It seems like you won't back off with peaceful negotiation, I did not want to do this. But fine have it your way, I will make you back off."
The bastard's smile faded. Did he finally realize the mistake he made? Well if that was the case, too bad, I did not care anymore. I closed our distance im an instant and walloped him. The bastard defended himself with his arms but strong and resilient he may be the heat started to take a number on him. Which in turn made him angry and the bastard tried to attack me back. Unfortunately for him it was too late as I had been preparing my final blow when the barrier broke. Flames appeared under the bastard with a terrifying speed and it didn't take long until he was completely covered in flames. He screamed in agony for a while until he collapsed. I took that opportunity to run. With my speed no one would catch up with me. After I found a desolated spot I let the anger out on the nearest boulder. After which I collapsed. This has been a terrible day. | 33 | Your powers are tied to your emotions. so much so that you've shut them off in fear of hurting someone with them. So, when the local corrupt superhero calls you out for being a criminal all for more publicity, you finally, after years of held up emotion, let loose | 68 |
A Canadian Frigate enroute to Ukraine for more peacekeeping efforts is about halfway through her journey. Radar detects a large amount of surface contacts approaching from the north, the Frigate quickly goes to red alert as men and women man what guns are aboard the lone frigate. The surface contacts arrive, the sailors aboard look at the small Gun-Boat like objects as they ride up toward the ship. One man on a Megaphone, speaking in rough english says "We come aboard for conversation yes?" The captain allows the crew of that small boat to come aboard, as the other boats begin making distance.
The captain questions the small boats crew regarding who they are and how they got so far out. The Captain of the Gunboat replies "We are members of the Vinland Navy, we come from a land up north just off your Greenland. We have built advanced technologies that make our land primarily based underwater. Our military has ways of getting to the surface however." The captain of the Frigate is astonished. However, he counters by saying "Not even the best Gunboats can get this far out, though." The Vinland captain glances at the forward turret aimed portside to the north at the small boats. "You know, you really are dumb if you didn't think to check any underwater signatures." He says, grinning smugly.
.
Just then, a Giant object starts coming up from below the surface, it's a giant submarine, only 5 miles off from the bow of the Frigate and closing rapidly! Small objects are seen on the deck, planes? 2 Highly maneuverable aircraft launch of the submarines deck, and then another 2 after that! They use electronic devices attached to their wings and jam all the frigates radio transmissions. The Vinland crew in all the confusion race aboard their gunboat and speed away. As one of the planes drops an explosive. Slamming into the deck, the Frigate is suddenly vaporized. In just under 2 minutes from the subs surfacing, the Frigate leaves no remains. The small boats slide into small openings in the colossal submarine, the crews disembark in the small hangars and proceed to their quarters. In the combat information center, a large map with all the world on it has an X put on the exact spot where this encounter has just occurred. It's worth noting, a large amount of the kills caused by this sub or it's airfleet is in the Bermuda Triangle... | 13 | where they are met by the Native Americans. A 1000 years later the Vikings homeland has all but been forgotten as the Viking/Natives rise to become an isolated superpower. | 138 |
I send yet another box flying downstairs, and get to the next one.
"Could you stop doing this?" Ada shouts all the way from the first floor.
"Does it matter, though?" I answer, "it's going to trash, anyway."
"Yeah, along with our flooring, if you keep throwing these boxes!" Her voice is more annoyed than angry, so I just apologize quickly and chuckle to myself. The oddities of owning a house.
I turn around looking for something to help me lower the boxes, because I am *not* spending half a day running up and down the stairs. My knees are messed up enough already. The dust is swirling in the light from a small window. Most of the attic is still pretty dark, but I spot some cables coiled on top of an old chair. Those will do. As I wade through an endless sea of boxes, stumbling and cursing, I trip and grab onto something, but it slides and falls on top of me.
I sit up and rub my left elbow. Where is the flashlight? Ah, there it is. The treacherous thing that didn't help me keep my balance is lying on my knees now. A binder, and a heavy one. I flip through the files with some board game cards in them. Well, Ada's about to regret sending me to clear up the attic. I am too curious to be productive, after all. Still, I get to the chair and grab the cables. Now set next to the window, I keep looking at all the cards. Could they be worth something? I take one to check if there's the name of a game on the other side. Nope. Just some off-white pattern on a dark blue background. I flip it. 'Lesser explosion' it says, with a picture of a few sparks underneath. I'm about to put it back when it escapes my fingers and falls to the floor.
But before I even think of picking it up, some light, weak and shortliving, is next to my feet, and something sounds like a small firecracker. I shine my torch on the floor and find the card. It's the same, not even burnt at the edges, unlike the floor underneath it. Scorch marks radiate from the card, still warm to the touch. I take the card reluctantly. *What kind of sorcery was this?* Ok. Open a random page, pick a random card. Garlic bread? All right, let's put it on the box right here. A plate of garlic bread spawns in front of me. *Huh.* I pick it up and find the garlic bread card still intact underneath.
A few hours later, we sit on the floor in our soon-to-be living room, cards sorted in a few piles around us. Ada pockets a few.
"What are we supposed to do with those?" she asks.
"Well, we could or could not save on groceries," I grin, eyeing a pile of food cards.
"Are those even safe to eat?"
I choose a watermelon one this time. Ada gets the knife. The fruit is so ripe it almost cracks under the blade, revealing red pulp with rare drops of seeds inside. It feels like a trap, but I take a bite, and soon Ada joins. It's sweet, and juice drips down our hands and forearms.
"Seems fine," she says, "hope we won't die." The flashes in her eyes say she's sure we'll be fine.
"Even if we die, it's worth it," I smile. "By the way, what are those cards you seized earlier?"
I don't mean anything by the question, but she tenses. She narrows her eyes for a moment before answering.
"Oh, just some cleaning supplies and stuff. We still have a lot to do in this wizard house," she sneers.
But something feels off. | 37 | You find a binder filled to the brim with cards, playing or board game cards almost. You pick one up that reads 'Lesser Explosion' and accidentally drop it, a small firecracker like pop sounding from it's spot on the ground, the card completely fine despite the scorch marks now around it | 146 |
It began with a dream where he was yet again, at the gene kiosk. In the dream, he could interact with the gene kiosk with unlimited credits, the way the Blondes often did when they decided they wanted which gene they wanted to splice for the weekend.
He was was woken up by his teleometer device that was on his wrist. A subtle electric shock that would bring the brain from out of its gamma wave surfing and then eventually, cascading into the hardwood bed that he kept make sure his posture intact.
He tapped the teleometer to stop the shock rhythms and refused to look at the number it displayed every morning. A luscious Blonde had given to it him at a good rate. His limbs tapped the floor, and he simultaneously recalled the memory of his upgrade. The Blonde had that pump-lipped smile and say in her young voice:
\--It's nothing personal. You should fix that black hair first in my opinion.
\--I need the wrist device. I can't wake up on time.
\--Well...you do know the concessionary rates if you....you know...made an effort on your...presentation.
\--I know.
\--Well....okay. That rules you out for the chip but the wrist device does the same thing.
\--How much?
\--Well, hold on let me just do the calculations.
\--Can you tell me in years?
\--Years? You're a bit old fashioned aren't you. Wrist device...black hair....you've got a story alright.
\--Years please.
The wrist device would lengthen his lifespan by 10 years. In the common speak it would shorten the teleometer by a factor of 5. The Blondes and the Blues only trusted him because he was good with his numbers. And that was why they hired him. And precisely why he was able to hide his true age from everyone for so long. He remembered CRISPR, the collapse of paper currency. Those who had been born now had less debt, but less history.
This was the ace in the hole. He liked to think of history as a fast revolving door of intangibles. But he knew it would always turn. Therefore he could make predictions on the numbers that nobody else could. Everyone else relied on "contacts" and "espionage" to gamble.
So he moved through the revolving door into the the headquarters and headed to the 77th floor to begin his shift. He wore the same clean things over and over again to avoid adding more to his year-debt.
One foot in front of the other. What the number on the wrist device was saying ultimately did not matter. Each week had to cancel out three weeks of lifespan in order for the investment to be worth it.
Some gave in to the despair. Shoot themselves in the head or drink fatal cocktails, where they would be revived on the operating table and sentenced to double labour with interest - genes spliced so that they would sleep less as punishment for breaking the fatal rule.
He averted his eyes from the gene kiosks as he made his way to his pod. And then his 2 minute ritual began.
A closing of the eyelids. A holding of the breath. This is what a legal death feels like. He would hold his breath until he couldn't do it anymore. A legal death - that was what anyone and everyone in the headquarters had aspired to. It meant either that you had experienced everything that life had left to offer, or you grit your teeth and beat the game. | 66 | Corporate greed has a history of technological innovation. The worst yet is the ability to artificially prolong human life, enabling corporations to continue working their employees who can't yet afford retirement until they've paid off all their debts. "Too poor to live. Too poor to die." | 465 |
"Little hut little hut, turn your back to the forest, and to me with your front." I hear someone chanting my home's not so secret password. Next thing I know, the forest is filled with creaking and crashing as my izba positions herself Infront of whoever decided to come visit at four in the afternoon, when I usually enjoy a casual nap.
Understandably cranky, I drag my arthritic knees to the door way, and open the viewing latch. "What?" I snap at the young, blonde haired man Infront of it.
He seems startled by me. "Grandma... Yaga?" He hesitantly asks. "Do I look like a grandma to you, you crosseyed imbecile?" I spit out at him. He stammers"I-I'm sorry, I j-just was looking for t-the witch-" "Well, you found him." I cut him off. I have very little patience for people dumb enough to wake me up from an afternoon nap. "What do you want?"
He swallowed, and tried again. "There's this girl-" "I don't do love potions." I say flatly. "Last time I made it too strong. Corrupted the entire genetic line to keep falling in love with itself." I muttered. Those German bastards still tried coming for me on occasion. Something ending with burg, I think. I'm terrible with names.
"No no, sir!" He shook his head violently. "We are already engaged and in love." He paused, seemingly embarrassed. I decided to take the opportunity. "Well, I'm glad everything is resolved then." And shut the latch.
No sooner did I close the window that he started banging on it. I opened it up again, even more annoyed. "What now?" The exasperated teen looked at mr with shocked eyes. "That was incredibly rude!" He had the audacity to say to me.
"Rude? You think that's rude? I'll tell you what's rude." I shove my right hand through the latch and grab him by the scruff of the neck. " Rude would be barging into someone else's forest clearing, moving their house without permission, incidentally waking them up from a scheduled nap, than demanding they help me with whatever problem I happen to have." I rasped at the youth ashe tried to free himself from my hands. Old though I might be, I could steel crack damascened blades with my bare palms. "In the old days, I'd make you into piroshki for when my nephews comes to visit" I see his deep brown eyes widen in horror, and I smirk, showing off my sharpened steel teeth. "But I've been told that this is frowned upon these days." I let him go and he stumbles back.
He falls on his knees. "I'm sorry sir! Please don't eat me or my future children!" He cackle at that. It's a good cackle that took long practice hours to perfect. "Get up kid." He hurriedly obeys my instructions. "Now, from the start- what do you want, and get to the point."
He nods." My name is Ivan" of course it is. "And I'm engaged to a wonderful girl named Chloe. The thing is" he pauses, gathers breath and proceeds." Her stepmother hates her. Passionately so. And we think she cursed her." He seems embarrassed to say that. Probably didn't believe in curses until recently.
I nod. "What is the effect? What does the curse do?" I ask him. Different curses require different cures which require different payments. "She got sick. Coughing blood constantly. Can't breathe." Sounds like TB to me, I think. "We thought she got tuberculosis" Ivan said, almost as if reading my mind."But twelve doctors found nothing. She's perfectly healthy. Except she's dying." He is crying at this point.
Could be one of a few things. Let's see-" You got something of hers?" He nodded. "Yeah, her favourite pen. Grandma said to bring something she uses a lot." I was about to chide him, but then I saw the pen. It was well used, but still clearly exquisite. The damn thing could likely buy a castle. "Alright, let me see."
Indeed, I see. "She's got a blood curse. Hold on a second." I go through my closet, and come back with three items. "Give the earnings to the stepmother first. She doesn't have to wear them, but she must at least touch them." They are gentle silver earrings with tine sapphires. "Next have Chloe wear this ring, willingly, and have her drink this after six pm, but no later than 9pm." He looked confused. "Not midnight? You sure?"
I give him an annoyed look."You want my help or not?" He nodded once and shut up. "After that, bury the ring. Cemetery grounds would be best, but any hole deeper than two meters." He looked confused. "Look it up. I refuse to acknowledge the imperial system. The French gave very few worthwhile contributions to the world, and I'm not going to ignore one of the most useful ones."
He clearly had no idea how to respond, so he just moved on. "Umm... About the payment... We're fairly rich..." I'd say so. That was one impressive pen." Do I look like I have a use for money?" He swallowed again, harder this time. "Then... What do you want? I ... I can't... I won't let you eat my children..." He says in what probably should have been hard defiance but came out as meek protest.
I give him an incredulous look. "What is it with you and child eating? Projecting, by any chance?" He starts to stammer something that I ignore. " No, I haven't eaten children since the twelfth century, and even that was an accident." Stupid brat fell into my cauldron and snapped his neck while drowning. Ruined that borsch completely. "I want a warm meal delivered every weekday, before twelve but after nine am, for five years. And no repeats within the month." Now it's his turn to look incredulous. "That's...it?" I shrug. "I'm old, rheumatic and still do gardening. Some food each day that I didn't cook will certainly ease my life." I think of something. "Oh, and make it no contact. Hate dealing with people." He eagerly nods and shakes my hand, leaving to cure his lady.
Ahh, another satisfied costumer. | 228 | You are a man. | 655 |
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