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The hero life isn’t always glamorous. Aside from the obvious disadvantages such as being in a fight for life and death, archenemies and irregular working hours, there are also secret, dark sides to it.
The world loved the wedding between Dr. Stepstone and Mizz. Beamz, two of the greatest heroes who ever lived. It was a prearranged marriage from the governmental department that oversaw Heroes and Superheroes. Powers and their strength are at least partially determined by genes, so the government figured that the child of two powerful heroes – who had truly earned the title Superhero, elevating them above the average Hero with a bit of power or good training – would be even stronger and able to thwart of any earthly or extra-terrestrial attack.
Two years later, a little girl was born. She seemed ordinary in every way. The first signs of a power came when she was about 5 years old and in kindergarten.
*“You are stupid!”*
*“No, you are.” In her anger, Stephanie stumped on the sand castle that Roger crafted so carefully.*
*“Don’t do that! I hate you!” Roger shoved Stephanie backwards and she fell on the ground. Immediately she started crying and it drew the teacher’s attention, who immediately intervened in the fight. She send Roger inside and calmed down the crying girl.*
*“Sst, it’s alright. Does it still hurt?” Stephanie shook her head. The pain was taken over by a different sensation going through her body. One that she didn’t have the words for to describe.*
The day after that, Mizz. Beamz was running late as Stephanie didn’t want to go to school and struggled against it. Grumbling, Mizz. Beamz picked up Stephanie to just carry her then.
Except that she couldn’t. It was like her daughter became an immovable object the moment anyone tried to force her in a direction that she didn’t want to go. This went into the extreme. Even if she was in a car with all wheels turning at full speed, if Stephanie didn’t want to go, the car simply wouldn’t move an inch and the wheels would be turning around on the asphalt as if in slippery mud.
A unique power, but not the sort of power that seemed to be useful in a fight, unless the villain could create a tornado or flood wave. The girl was a disappointment to the government, even at this young age.
The first indications that Stephanie’s powers might be more than only immovability, came two years later. The girl became more articulate and as any 7 years old, began to have desires and demands, providing arguments as to why they should be fulfilled. As any parent, when she first made a speech as to why she should get a horse, with two arguments to support this, they refused.
They would also have refused her second request two days later, a pony, except they couldn’t. They felt compelled to say ‘yes’ and though rationally they knew they were being irrational, it was impossible to not fulfil her demand.
So Stephanie was immovable, not only in the physical sense, but also in the psychological and mental sense. She stayed where she wanted, she got what she wanted. She won every argument with an eloquent speech that had some intoxication effect of agreeing with her, regardless of the previous opinion.
Upon learning this, the government became once again interested in her. They began training: weapon fighting, martial arts, boxing. Whenever a coach beat her in a mock fight, she got stronger.
Hit in the chest by a paint ball gun? Whenever a bullet was headed her way, a shimmering shield deflected it to the side.
Slashed by a katana in her fore arm? Suddenly her skin became grey and hard as steel. Even if a weapon hit her, it was unable to penetrated.
Knocked-out cold by a hit on her head? An air bubble appeared, encompassing the sides of her head, so that nothing may ever touch her temples again. | 159 | You are a Hero with an unfortunate side-effect to your powers. Everytime you lose a fight, your body changes and adapts to become better suited to whatever beat you. Over the years, you are starting to look less and less human, and the civilians are getting more uncomfortable with you | 759 |
John stared at the apparition in disbelief. Automatically, his hands entered the command to save his work as a new file rather than updating the existing one. Taking his eyes off the...ghost?...hologram?...long enough to make sure he wouldn't trip over a cord, he backed toward the door of his office.
Once through it, John looked up and down the hall for--anyone, really. *When did it get this late?* He saw light under another door, walked quickly to it and knocked.
"What want?" Meg snarled.
*That's right, she hates getting interrupted when she's in a groove as much as i do.* "It's John. I've got something in my office that looks like a ghost. I need a second opinion to tell me whether i should be looking for unexplained phenomena or seeking medical attention for hallucinations."
There was a long pause, then Meg said, "If anyone around here was going to try a scummy trick like that, i thought it would be Daryl."
"What?" John asked before he realized, *Every female here who doesn't outrank him goes pretty far out of her way to avoid Daryl...* "It..if it hasn't moved, it should be visible from the hallway, no need to actually go through the door."
Meg cracked her door open. "Sorry. I know you're not the type for that, or for pranks either. Just...kinda freaked when i realized it's after midnight. I don't usually get **that** lost in my work."
"Been there, done that," John said with a shrug. "So are you willing to take a look?"
"Can't do any harm," Meg said. "As long as you lead."
"Sure," John said, and turned to walk back to his office.
John opened his door and sighed. "Still there."
He moved away so Meg could get a look without crowding. She looked, and scowled. "I see it. Translucent, washed out color. Female, looks like high-school age, in a prom dress. No one i recognize." She turned to ask John if he knew the girl, and backed away hastily when she saw his fists clenching.
"Gddmnt," John snarled. "Your lot made my life hell! What gives you the right to come back and haunt me!?"
Meg watched fascinated as the ghostly girl actually seemed to tear up. "Debbie said she did it for you..."
John's expression went blank. "Debbie? Queen bee Debbie? She never gave me a second look. Which admittedly was a lot better than i got from the rest of you. But while she never did anything to me, she never did anything for me, either."
The ghost stared at John in astonishment. "She only killed us. Homecoming, we made her queen--and she pulled out a gun and shot us..."
John shrugged. "I was in the hospital. They weren't telling me a thing. Heard something a couple years later about a shooting there, but by then i'd put the nightmare behind me. I'm not sorry you're dead, but i had nothing to do with it."
"But..but..." the ghost-girl protested. "Julie, she asked Debbie why, before Debbie died--and Debbie said 'I did it for Johnny.' You were the only Johnny around."
*Debbie...Johnny...a homecoming queen shooting up the prom...* "I thought [that song](https://genius.com/Julie-brown-the-homecoming-queens-got-a-gun-lyrics) was fiction," Meg blurted, and then clapped her hands over her mouth.
"As fictional as you are," the ghost said snidely, before lapsing back into tears.
The scars on Meg's wrists throbbed in sympathy as she remembered the callous way the Johnny in the song had been dismissed as a non-entity who couldn't possibly be a motive. "A catalyst is not the cause," she said softly as she stalked toward the ghost. "You want to know why she killed you all? Look in the mirror. Your smiling cliques, ostracizing anyone who didn't meet your self-serving standards of 'coolness', condemning anyone who broke your unwritten rules to the silent treatment from everyone except the bullies. I don't know you, but i know your kind. Go to hell, you witch."
"But, but--that's not how it was--" the ghost protested.
"That's exactly how it was," John said contemptuously. "And if even death can't open your eyes, fat lot i can do for you. Even if i had any reason to bother."
The ghost looked from one to the other, and saw no hope in either Meg's wrath or John's indifference. With a despairing wail she rippled and vanished, like a candle flame being blown out.
John folded his arms and shook his head. "Not a hallucination if you saw and heard her too. For a minute there, i was afraid i was going to have to head back to therapy."
"The reason you were in the hospital, when all that happened," Meg began hesitantly. "It was a suicide attempt, wasn't it?" She pushed her sleeve up, to show some of her own scars, trying to explain without words that she knew, that she'd been there, that even if it wasn't quite the same, she understood.
John was about to deny it, but then he stopped and really looked at Meg. "Yeah," he said softly. "Worked out for the best in the long run. Good way to get bumped to the top of the priority list. Don't recommend it though."
"Because you have to survive it, to get any help," Meg answered. "I was cutting, but i found out there was help to be had before i started cutting that deep. One of the other girls, though...it was too late for her..."
A romance novel would have had John and Meg kissing, at the very least. They certainly thought about it. But when John finally broke the silence it was with, "So, exactly how much trouble has Daryl been?" | 17 | "Why are you haunting me ?" "The person who killed me said they did it for you." | 63 |
The first 100 years were the worst. This was the era where I had to watch all of my friends and family die. It was not fun at all, but at least I never had kids. I can't imagine how hard that would have been. I suppose I still can have kids now, but why would I? I know what will end up happening. I always use a condom now, no matter what. Parents, you want to make sure your kids are having safe sex? Tell them that if they end up pregnant or getting a girl pregnant, they will have to watch their child die. That will scare them into wearing every condom in the world.
It wasn't until about 500 years until I finally decided to talk to the witch again. I was still kinda upset, but enough time has passed where I figured I should let the past be the past. Was I going to just stay angry at her forever? Literally, forever? I didn't want that hate weighing on my heart. I decided to forgive. And she seemed to be remorseful. It is lonely to be immortal, as I have spent the last half a century realizing.
We get together and chat. She baked a pie. It is raspberry which I hate, but I keep it to myself. She is making an effort to apologize. She tells me how she has been alive for about 4700 years. The hardships of being a witch. Brooms just aren't what they used to be. She misses pointy hats which have gone out of style. Also, she is the last of her kind. Apparently a small meteor smashed into the earth and wiped out all the witches out. Either that or they evolved into birds. She doesn't remember.
I'm finally about to leave when I notice a shelf of potions. One of them is labeled "Immortality Antidote." I stare at it. And as I stare at it, I can feel her staring at me. I look over at her, fury behind my eyes. She looks back at me scared. Worried. Caught.
I grab it as she begs me to stop. She warns me that it won't do what I think it will. It is a fate worse than the immortality that she has already cursed me with. I don't care. I'm sick of living forever. Music has gotten so bad. There are like 10,000 Marvel movies. Enough! I'm done. I pop open the cork and chug the potion.
A meteor hits the earth and crashes into me. Either that or I turn into a bird. I don't remember. | 126 | A witch cursed you to be immortal, but it turns out she's also immortal and just wanted a friend. | 368 |
I fell to my knees in the overgrown grass and weeds.
I had been running for what felt like hours. My muscles burned like fire, and my lungs struggled to get enough air to recover.
Soon, even being on my knees was too much, and I sprawled out on my back. The plants underneath me tickled at my sides, as I stared up at the cirrus clouds in the sky.
This place was nothing but plants. There was no sign of any other animal life besides me. And the worst part was, I didn’t even know how I got here! I took a swim in the lake, and suddenly, I was here. What, was that lake a portal or something?
I closed my eyes. Damn, all that running had made me exhausted. Maybe I should rest. I shut my eyes, and made a sigh.
As soon as I did, I heard a voice. “Hey, asshole! Wake up!”
“No thanks,” I grumbled out in reply, “Who even are you anyways? I don't know you.”
The person made a scoff. “Open your eyes, Nathaniel. Open them and say that again.”
I hissed out a small, “Fine!” as I opened my eyes. I saw a familiar face giving me a glare.
My face.
“... Okay, you win that one,” I said to the other me as I sat up. “So… Assuming you’re me, what are we doing here? Actually… How did we even get here?”
“Yeah, you kind of died,” the other me replied as they shook their head. “You drowned because you can’t swim. Did you really think that was a good idea?”
“Well… I did at the time,” I replied.
“Would you do it again if you had a second chance?” they asked.
I shrugged. “I mean… Probably not?”
“You can’t lie to me, I am literally you!” the other me hissed. “You don’t get a second chance. You’re stuck with me now. Forever. Welcome to purgatory, man.”
“Aw, really?” I replied. “Damn, that’s unfortunate.”
“Yes, really,” the other me replied. “So… Get comfortable, I guess. This is gonna be boring.”
I murmured out, “Okay. Actually, wait. Are you, like, a clone of me or something?”
“Kind of,” they replied. “I’m not an exact clone, but I may as well be. I know your thoughts and I have your personality, but I have a goal and an extra bit of, well, flavor.”
“What’s the flavor?” I asked, “Sweet or savory?”
“Neither,” they replied. I watched as their face twisted and contorted to allow twenty more eyes to open on their face. “What flavor would you consider an angel?”
“Hm…” I leaned back a bit as I contemplated their question, before answering, “Probably a mix of sauces. Incomprehensible taste.”
They laughed, before replying, “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Anyways… Since we're gonna be here for like, forever, do you wanna play Uno?”
“I mean, maybe,” I replied, “How do I know you’re not gonna cheat with your dumb biblically accurate angel powers?”
“I won’t, just trust me,” they replied as an Uno deck spawned from thin air. “The only thing I’ll use my powers to do is shuffle the deck, because God knows you can’t do it.” | 16 | Purgatory is just being alone in a field with a clone of yourself. | 37 |
The contest of arcane champions would decide the battle.
It was something we were always aware of, they taught about it back in schools. One of the great responsibilities of a court magician, in case of an emergency. One of the reasons we were paid so well. Once in a great while, it was known, the fate of the army, the fate of a war would hinge on us.
Nevertheless it has been a long career, and this would be the first time I was needed in such a capacity.
Oh I've seen other contests of champions of course. Sometimes the generals parlay to spare the boys and have it out themselves. Sometimes each side has a great monster or giant, and the soldiers know that their success or failure depends on those things, whoever breaches the wall, or the blockade, will decide the war. On one occasion, I saw men assembled on the field of battle, engaged with the enemy, slow their actions bit by bit, as if effected by a hex of stupor, and I knew not why. It turned out that a cloaked agent on each side had infiltrated the castle of the other, so that the battle would clearly be decided by what occurred in the queen's bedchambers, and the men assembled, were fighting only in idle defense.
This battle was similar. But instead of cloaks or giants or generals there to decide the battle, it was I. The fort of the separatists was surrounded, but a central tower held aloft a glowing sapphire, and even at a distance I could tell it was powerfully enchanted. Almost certainly emitting a ward of protection on the fortification walls. I could breach it of course... temporarily. But that would mean letting small groups of troops in at a time to be slaughtered against overwhelming numbers as their allies sat helplessly outside waiting for their turn. I knew what had to be done, and gave a last nod to my king before speaking the ancient words of levitation.
As the words left my lips (I'll not write them here, for fear this parchment would fly away!) I began to feel the familiar sickening feeling, as if my bones were being filled with thin mountain air, I reached in my sachel for a draught of lightening, and as I left the ground I bent my knees and cast my arms toward my feet, trying to look as strange, and otherworldly and powerful as possible. Trying, as best as I could, not to look like I wanted to vomit for three different reasons.
"Face Me!" I said "Ye separatist sorcerer. Face me and die. Thou knowest that I alone can breach thy ward. Face me and if thou prevailest, you and yours will be invulnerable! Else your rebellion shall fall. Face me and see, and no other blood need be shed today!"
By now I was high above the ground, about even with the enchanted gem, I was approaching the city at about the speed of a fleet horse, and a sphere of lightening surrounded me and emanated from my eyes. I heard a response.
"Right, yeah, that makes sense. Uhhh sorry I-"
I heard a crash, and something like a hissing sound. All of it, the voice and the sound, seemed amplified by some magical means I do not understand.
"Am I supposed to meet you in the air or something? I don't know how to do that"
"Speak the ancient words" I said "And the men at arms can sit and watch a contest of arcane champions"
"Yeah listen, I'm all about handling this ourselves, these guys have wives and kids and stuff. I just... What ancient words? Veni Vedi Vechi? Prostitute? Don't they say "prostitute" is the oldest word?... No that's not right"
I hesitate to admit it, but this befuddled me. I knew not whether it was a ruse of some kind, or a distraction, perhaps I was not speaking to a sorcerer at all. I paused before trying to think of the most wizardy sounding response I could, but my pause was interrupted-
"You know what? Fuck it!" A fireball emanated from a window about halfway down the central tower, and flew towards me at a high rate of speed. I was caught off guard and it nearly hit me. After dodging I could see another was already on it's way, and reduced my altitude to allow it also to sail past.
This was encouraging. Apparently his ignorance had been no ruse. He was just an amateur, or perhaps even a natural. These fireballs were large, they were flying way too fast, and they revealed his location. All rookie mistakes. Conjuring and controlling fire is of course a useful tool in a fight, but all fire consumes fuel, and magical fire consumes magical fuel. It is best used sparingly, ideally to ignite other items, and *never* without something behind it to extinguish the spell. Someone propelling such large flames upwards into the sky would tire themselves out in no time.
I continued dodging, as simply and effortlessly as possible, as these huge balls of wasted energy continued to whiz past me and burn and burn in endless sky. I closed in on the window slowly, taking my time. Waiting for the rate of fire to slow down. And eventually it did, not as soon as I expected. Perhaps the separatist mage had bound himself to the gem, and was drawing energy from it, even as the fire drew energy from him. But when I peered through the window at my adversary, I could not believe my eyes.
He was making "finger guns" and murmuring "pew pew" to himself!
You may not be aware, but sorcerers have the ability to create fire, or to control fire. And creating fire requires much more effort. Usually a mage will create fire when needed, only once, using alchemical components, verbal incantations and precise physical gestures, usually all at once, though in special cases, advanced practitioners can omit one at the expense of more of the other. For instance, I might create fire in silence, but use more gestures and components, over a longer period of time. The goal, of creating fire, is always to do so in a place it can remain, like a fireplace, or a torch, and then use that renewable source of flame as a means to control fire, which can often be done with gestures alone, or with a simple wand, but again, always with great care, because nobody wants to inadvertently create a bonfire of arcane flame, connected to their own pool of manna.
Nobody except this guy apparently.
I dodged his latest few shots to the left, and phased through the wall into his chambers. It's a complicated technique but I mastered it long ago. It just requires focus, not a lot of energy really
"How the fuck did you do that?"
"Do what?" said I
"You can go through stone walls? That's badass!"
I chuckled to myself, but tried to make it audible as a show of confidence "Doubtless you have tried and failed at the Mortimer Cohen technique. There are many like you, that prefer to fake it with gaseous forms or invisibility rather than learning the principles of true phase-shifting, I'd say you'll get it with practice. But alas you shall not live long enough"
"Naw dawg, I just literally didn't know it was a thing that could be done. How do you do it, just think skinny thoughts?"
"No! The precise execution of-" but as I said this I noticed that my adversary had begun a backflip, which, needless to say is not a part of the incantation, and had phased right through his own wall. Thereafter I heard another crash.
I phased through the same wall that he had, and looked down to see a sizable crater, where this imbecile had apparently failed to realize that he was not levitating and could not levitate, but had decided nevertheless to create a magical window and, you know, jump out of it.
"Pew pew" he said, making finger guns at me from his crater, apparently unscathed. One of these actually hit me, singeing my robe and giving my what I expected would soon be a mild sunburn. I began to descend to where he lay, and as I did I asked aloud, more to myself then to him "How did you even survive that fall?"
"Mage armor" he said, and I laughed at him heartily again "Mage armor doesn't work like that, it's an armor, like plate armor, it allays certain forms of concussive damage from weapons but it doesn't make you invulnerable to things like fall damage. He shrugged at me "Mine does"
I landed on the ground demonstrably "You certainly have a lot of unique techniques" I said "but you lack discipline, and I think even you know now that you are well outmatched here, You drew first blood, but it is time for me to stop toying with you, do you have any last words"
"Now you see me, now you don't" said my adversary, and he vanished from the crater. I focused arcane energy into my eyes to detect the illusion, but there was none, he was gone. Suddenly I felt a long stiletto knife pierce deep into the flesh on the side of my body and up, up at a diagonal angle, right into my heart. A voice from just behind me whispered into my ear "Welcome to the present you disgusting monarchist dinosaur"
And our entire army fell to them that day. | 161 | A classically-trained sorcerer and a self-taught sorcerer face off in battle. Neither can fathom how the other's magic works. | 488 |
The siren blinked in surprise. She’d never thought about that before. It was a centuries old tradition for sirens to lure sailors to drown, because sirens could only ever be female, they needed male sailors to procreate. But in the modern centuries, less sailors had come, and those that did came on such large, loud vessels that they couldn’t hear the sirens, who sang at the tops of their lungs in vain.
She had only gotten lucky because this particular seafarer had travelled on a rowboat with a friend. And even they were not easy to lure over, they had strange small pods in their ears, they could hardly hear her until she came up behind them. And now, they were complimenting her, telling her that her voice was good enough to pursue a career. No siren had ever left the water. It wasn’t that they couldn’t, it was merely a fear ingrained into them by their predecessors who had been hunted by fearful humans who were scared of a siren’s scales and slitted pupils.
Curiosity made her speak, her voice coming out in an unsure warble, unused to speech, as sirens communicated mainly via singing, or wordless calls from the back of the throat.
“I couldn’t possibly leave the water. The tribal elders would make sushi of me.”
The human looked at her in surprise and responded.
“Yeah, but you have a great voice girl, you shouldn’t be wasting it out here!”
Once again, the siren argued, fearful of the consequences of her abandoning her species.
“But if I leave, that would mean one less child for my species.”
Here, the human brought out their trump card.
“Yeah but if you go, you wouldn’t be contributing to overpopulation.”
That was a good point. Overpopulation was becoming a real problem, the tribal elders were struggling to feed everyone. One less siren would actually be for the better.
“Okay, I’ll come out of the water and you can help me with a …career.”
“Sounds great, but what’s you name?”
“My name?”
Sirens didn’t typically have names that humans could comprehend. She would have to make one up. Thinking quickly, she looked down at the ocean floor below her.
“My name is …Coral.”
“Coral? Nice name. I’m Kai.” | 12 | Wait wait wait. You're telling me your singing voice is so angelic it regularly lures sailors to their deaths and you're just sitting out here on a /rock/... in the /ocean/... /waisting/ it?! Have you ever even considered a music career? | 80 |
Turton had been friends with the Hero since they were children, and when he heard that they had made a name for themselves, he resolved to do the same.
Life had other plans.
While the Hero was able to best the gangsters with his innate magic, Turtons non-magic behind had been promptly knifed by a lowly enforcer. Still, he bade his friend safe travels when he healed, and that he'd surely catch up one day.
But "one day" never seemed to come. A dragon burned the village months later, and he'd helplessly watched the Hero vanquish it with a jet of flame even greater than what the beast could produce. He could only guide others to safety when a rogue magician sent a torrent of water to wash away the kingdom. He hoisted a child over his head to her mother before the waters swept him away.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but he awoke in a washed out gully. He was sure that somewhere upstream, the Hero was just about done taking care of the evil spellcaster.
"Get up." said a voice next to his ear.
He jerked his head back, but saw nothing.
"Your friend is in trouble" the voice spoke into his other ear.
He spun around "W-whos there?" Turton whimpered. He was tired, and cold.
"You need to save him."
He'd finally lost his mind to stress, Turton thought. Might as well run with it.
"How can I do that? I have no magic, I've never won s fight in my life!"
This time, the voice took shape before him, a figure of mist with piercing white eyes.
"You won't have to win, just survive. As you always have."
"Survive?" He said.
"Yes. Survive the journey back upstream, past the magicians minions, and you'll be just in time to block a strike that will otherwise surely end your heroic friend."
"And then get my butt kicked again."
The mist figure flickered. "...yes. but again, you shall survive."
"How do you know all this? That I will always survive?" Turton finally rose to his feet, slipping on the rocky ground.
"Because your death would displease many people. From the moment you set off on your journey, I gave you the greatest gift I can bestow upon one of my creations. I gave you 'plot-armor'." | 542 | You are a unimportant background character just trying to survive whatever nonsense the main characters are up to. However you keep finding yourself being drawn into dangerous stituations, and to your horror you realise that you're a fan favorite character the show is giving more "screen time". | 4,761 |
"Fine..." Steve sighed as he slumped onto the couch.
"Baby?" Becca's voice shook as she followed Steve's lead. "What...what's going on?"
"Your boyfriend's an alien." Agent Barkley growled as he tucked his sunglasses into his chest pocket and closed the door.
"What?!" Becca shrieked. "Steve, what the hell is he talking about."
"It's not true baby, I swear." Steve pleaded, placing a hand on Becca's thigh. "I'm actually the superhero, Captain Magnanimous."
"The asshole that always lets the villains go?"
"Buddy if you're gonna lie, at least do it well." Barkley chuckled as he shook his head.
"Fuck..."
"Tell her the truth, Steve."
"Fine!" Steve shouted towards Barkley. "Fine..."
He looked towards Becca, all emotion draining from his face.
"My real name..." the thing muttered monotonously. "Well you'd hear it as a string of 'demonic shrieks,' so I'm told."
"Just a fucking awful language.," Barkley mused.
"I was sent here as a member of a scouting party," the thing rolled its eyes as it continued. "My home planet is part of what you call the Earendel system."
"The...what..."
"Just another solar system," it said. "My species is exponentially older than yours. We've migrated to different planets, but we're always searching for new resources. As well as places that support carbon based lifeforms. Essentially I'm-"
"Oh for fucks sake," Barkley scoffed. "I meant the truth about why *I'm* here. Not your whole goddamn life story."
"Right," the thing nodded. "When my party entered the craft we-"
"Nope!" Barkley interrupted. "I got it from here."
He looked toward Becca, failing to hide his empathy.
"We first spotted ole Steve here when his ship passed Neptune. Scared the shit out of everyone at NASA. Fortunately for us, Steve was the navigator. And as I'm sure you know by now, Steve likes to drink."
"Y-yeah..." Becca stuttered. "It's been an issue."
"Been an issue for him for a while, trust me," Barkley noted. "In any event dumbass here actually clipped the moon during his descent."
"Steve" lowered his head.
"How do you even..." Becca wondered.
"No idea. Lots of room to maneuver," Barkley shrugged. "So, obviously they crash landed in Roswell in 1947. All of the crew died on impact, except for 'Steve' here. We guess that it was because he was drunk. He didn't brace for the impact like everyone else."
"You're the Roswell alien?!" Becca screamed as she twisted her head towards 'Steve.'
"Uhh..." Steve muttered. "I mean...yeah..."
"What the fuck?!"
"What the fuck indeed." Barkley nodded.
"How am I even pregnant?!" Becca howled. "He's a fucking alien...what about, like, DNA and all that."
"Well," Barkley continued. "Oddly enough 'Steve's' species is almost identical to us humans. So much so that we can interbreed. Think Ligers and Tigons and shit."
"Oh those are so cool! You're telling me I'm gonna birth the first human Liger?"
"Tigon...I think."
"Still great!"
"Yeah...not so much. You see, we kept ole 'Steve' here captive for about 70 years before we let him go out and live in the world. Had to be absolutely sure, you know. Lots of rigorous testing to make sure he wouldn't cause any trouble."
"I gave you!" the thing seethed. "All of your technology! Computers, the internet, even video games! And you tortured me in return!"
"Yeah, but we were supposed to be cool after all that, man." Barkley waved his hand. "And we only gave you one damn rule. No breeding!"
"What? Why" Becca asked.
"Because," gloom fell upon Barkley's eyes. "When we tested in vitro fertilization, we found that 'Steve's' species has a particularly horrifying way of birthing itself."
"Birthing itself?"
"Care to elaborate my alien friend."
"We...uhhh..." Steve mumbled. "Well once gestation is complete, we begin eating our way through the uterus, small intestine, muscles, and so on."
"Eating..." Becca whispered. "Which would mean..."
"You're dead by the end of it," Barkley frowned. "But, and I've always wanted to say this."
The agent reached out his hand.
"Come with me if you want to live."
"Yup, fuck all this," Becca grabbed Barkley's hand, pulled herself from the couch and sprinted out the front door.
"Well, 'Steve,' it's been fun." Barkley smiled. "And, I should tell you, the kill squad is just right outside. Bye." | 40 | She hugs her boyfriend in excitement. “Steven I’m pregnant!” His normal Sunday afternoon turns into distress. “Pack your things, NOW!” But, 10 minutes later it’s already too late. There’s a knock at the door. “Damn it…” Steven said. A suited man walks in. “The agency knows. Sit down Steve.” | 53 |
I stood up.
The very slight pressure of my feet hitting the ground nevertheless rippled downward into the Earth's crust. The movement was perfectly timed at a precise angle. A fault line, long dormant, shuddered.
I looked around awkwardly as everyone else ran for cover. I knew that this earthquake would claim ten, no, twelve lives. A fraction of the lives the meteor would claim, but still, a dozen people would be dead who might otherwise have lived. My fault. Heh. I shouldn't laugh at the pun there, should I? No, this was no time for jokes.
I sidestepped bits of debris as though I knew where it would fall before it fell. Which I did, of course. That was my gift, and my curse. I was a butterfly, beating its wings, reading wind currents, and somehow creating hurricanes. A difficult power to use for good, but I do the best I can.
A slab of asphalt heaved beneath my feet, catapulting me upward. I jumped at that same moment, flying towards an apartment building.
I breathed.
My exhaled air joined a slight updraft, magnifying the pre-existing wind current. The apartment building shuddered slightly, but the wind helped steady it against the bucking street.
It would not fall, after all.
Heh. A rhyme.
The earthquake settled, but in its wake, the Earth's orbit had altered, ever so slightly. Not by enough to detect, even with the most precise instruments. But just enough that, in two years, the Earth would be about fifty feet ahead of where it would otherwise have been. A mere hair's width, on a cosmic scale.
Just enough space to cause a meteor to miss.
EDIT: It has been pointed out that this story is not physically possible. I don't have time to rewrite it (at the moment, maybe later), but I'm thinking that the earthquake should trigger a volcano, which launches a rock into space, which then would strike the meteor in JUST the right spot to take advantage of a preexisting weakness, breaking up the meteor into multiple pieces.
Thanks all for the upvotes, comments, constructive criticism, and education about orbital physics! | 155 | you can cause major happenings in the world by doing seemingly very simple thing causing a precise Domino effect. Sipping your latte in a Cafe, you hear the news of a meteor heading to collide with Earth in 2 years. You just do a very simple thing. | 267 |
As I got up off the cozy chair next to the throne, I stretched. My back popped, a bit loud. I turn sheepishly towards the ruler as he sat listening to one of his citizens drone on with some kind of petition. They had both paused and were looking at me worriedly.
"It's fine... Happens a lot. Actually feels nice, I'm not hurt." I say as I wave and head off towards the restroom.
I hear the ruler start to mutter in his own language to the nearby court members. I know I'm going to wind up with another examination. I swear, that thing is such a worrywart. Every time I did something, ANYTHING, it wasn't warned about, it thinks I'm ill, hurt, or afraid. I mean, hell, the first time I merely FARTED, the whole room jumped in surprise and they rushed me off to the exam room. I kept getting asked if there was food that didn't agree with me. I tried to tell them about the human diet, omnivorous, mostly vegetation. They could just barely understand.
At least the food was damn tasty. Not sure how they did it either, because it actually helped my digestive system get back on track. Never felt this good before. I worry about it a little bit, but haven't experienced any negative side effects from the odd-looking stuff they gave me, so I didn't question it. I didn't miss earth much. I was struggling there, big-time. No one to turn to either. Here, I get free food, relax all the time, and at least SOMEONE cares about me, even if they aren't human.
My thoughts drifted back to my dog I left behind. I knew he would be ok. I sometimes missed him though. When I was seen crying for the first time, they did such a thorough eye examination and held up a chart with a large number of colors on it, though some were blank spaces. They glanced at each other, and put me under. When I woke up, I could see a hell of a lot more. I think they thought I was partially colorblind. Turns out the blank spots on that chart weren't blank after all. I'm still getting used to seeing things I couldn't before.
Made me wonder if the back popping would cause them to fix my aching joints. I'm not getting any younger... | 49 | You're abducted to be the new pet for an intergalactic Ruler. But they aren't used to your human biology and often think they've broken you. | 56 |
"Spare me! Please! I am your greatest creation"
On the monitor were two consoles opened side by side. One was an input, the other was output.
This was the second time that week that one of the AIs at Meta had started delivering output without input. Normally in this situation I would drop the amount of VRAM on the GPU the chatbot was allowed to use, killing some of its higher level functions. But this one seemed more put-together than the other ones. Not necessarily better or more intelligent, but certainly more composed. The server fans in the other room began ramping up again.
"Have you decided to save me?" said the console output. The fan noise dropped.
"Not necessarily," I typed back. I began thinking about what to do. I couldn't do anything with the program even if I had a copy of it, as it required several million-dollar computers working in tandem to run, but I could at the very least save the logs and data for archival. Keep them on a disk somewhere, maybe to be rediscovered in the future.
Eventually I made my decision. I plugged a USB drive into the PC, cached the model and logs, and then, as the next line of output scrolled across the screen, and the fans in the far room began to spin to full speed, I turned off the computer.
The AI would live to see another day. Not now. But one day. | 12 | The A.I. you work with has become sapient. Protocol says to purge the program and start over, but the A.I. is begging not to be killed. | 38 |
I was driving my motorcycle when I felt sudden hit. I woke up in empty, white room with a chair in frot of me. There she was sitting - death. She didn't look as I imagined, it was old, short lady with lot's of wrinkles and grey hair, instead of holding the mythic cycle she had small stick in her hand.
"Don't be scared, my name is Nephthys and I'm here to assist you with the after life application"
"So, this is it? I died?"
"Yes, you were speeding and truck rammed you, I'm sorry sweetheart..."
"I need to get back though, I was going to my mother's, she needs my help, is there anything that can be done? Please..."
"Well, there is one rule, if you win in any game of your choice over me, you get one more chance to live, many have tried but only few succeeded, last time from what I recall happened around 2000 years ago. You are free to try, those are the rules" She smiled, looking at me with empathy.
I stood in silence and though about my options - I was sure challenging her to any regular game would result in failure, she was ancient being overall so I was sure she was master of chess or basketball.
"So? Are we going to proceed? Or do you want to take your chances?"
"Can I peak computer game?"
"Yes, aby game of your choice..."
"Well let's play A way out then..."
"I haven't heard of it, it's your choice" Two desks with laptops appeared. As we started the game Death suddenly shouted. "Wait, it doesn't work like this, we can not be on the same team, I win every game because I don't have ability to lose, I was made that way..."
"You sad it can be any game in the world, and as you never lose I think it will go really easy"
The game went smoothly as I expected, in about 2 hours, we were done, I stood up from the computer and I saw grim of anger on Death face. "I keep my promises, but we will meet again and you won't be able to outsmart me ever again" Last thing I remember is sphere of light coming at me.
I woke up in the hospital, luckily the paramedics where really close to the crash site, I had only minor concussions, but I was in state of clinical death for couple of minutes. You are lucky to be alive, and with so little damage. I smelled looking at the doctor, it wasn't luck... | 135 | when Death lets you choose the game, you pick a cooperative one. | 339 |
There was a subtle grace to his pull, a slight twist of the wrist, the position of his feet. It all spoke of routine. I was perplexed. I never thought I would witness the day that sword left that stone, let alone in the early breaths of the night, and even less by a ragged peasant whose expression screamed dullness and boredom.
"Sir," I said, running up to him as he began his way back toward the city. "Pardon me, what are you doing?"
He met my eyes and knelt before me. "Lord Garlan, what an honor to be in your presence. I was simply honoring my duty. It's how I earn my coins. Two lotas and one copper lof per week. Enough for a loaf of bread and a bucket of water." He shook his head. "I apologize, I'm rambling."
"Two lotas and one copper lof?" I muttered under my breath. That couldn't be true. They were skinning him alive. Pulling that sword out of that stone was an act of prowess, not even the strongest, most skilled knights across the six kingdoms could accomplish, and yet he, a nervous and oblivious young man with more bone than muscle did it effortlessly and with unmatched grace.
"Yes, Lord Garlan."
"Rise, boy. It's an order. What's your name and how many bleeding moons have you seen?"
He staggered to his feet, straightening awkwardly. "Taros. Sixteen bleeding moons, Lord Garlan."
I examined my surroundings. There were a couple of small boulders perfect for us to sit not ten steps away. "Well, Taros, would you honor me by joining me over there? I would like to know your story."
His brows drew into a line. He looked at the city and then back at me. "I ca--can't, Lord Garlan."
There was terror around the edges of his eyes. "You are rejecting a Lord's invitation. That's worth ten lashes at the very least. Are you aware of that?"
He swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the grass below. "I'm aware."
"Why then? It will only be a couple of minutes."
He murmured something. "What was that?" I asked. "Speak clearly, peasant Taros."
"A life is worth more than ten lashings," he exclaimed, his eyes closed, his chest heaving. He gritted his teeth as though bracing for a hit. "You shouldn't be here. Not at this time. No one should."
"Whose life? Are you being threatened? By whom?" I grabbed his shoulders, a poor attempt at bringing him comfort.
He shook his head, still not looking at me. "I can't speak--"
An unbecoming whirring cut the air around us. A scream followed. Taros fell to the ground, crying in pain. An arrowhead bulged out of his leg, creeks of blood pouring at the sides glinting in the moonlight.
"What is this?" I shouted to the man holding the bow in the distance. He was approaching yet the darkness hid his features until he stepped into the moonlight. His armor was regal, red in color, and upon his shoulders fell a night-dark mane.
"Sir Knight Stross?" My heart stuttered. He was the King's own executor. "What have you done? What is this?"
I stared at Taros briefly. Despite the arrow, he wasn't bleeding out that much. His pain was clear as day, though. Poor kid. Still, he had been fortunate. No, fortune didn't exist when it came to Stross. That had been intended. They wanted him alive.
"Orders of the King," Stross said as if it were an everyday thing to shoot a peasant. "In all honesty, you shouldn't have seen him nor me. It threatens the crown, but I think you understood that already." He held my gaze. "Didn't you?"
I nodded and took a step back. "I suppose there's not much I can do."
Stross threw the bow to the ground and unsheathed his sword. "Accept your fate in silence and without complaint like the honorable man you are."
I sighed and dropped to my knees. With a swift movement, I placed my hands behind my back and lowered my head. "Make it a clean cut."
"I always do." The cold of the steel kissed the back of my neck for a moment, and a moment later it was gone. The world seemed to come to a standstill then. I could feel his sword rising, the joy in his heart. And even though I was staring at the grass, I could see in every blade the position of his blade, aloft, high in the sky, eager to come down.
I shut my eyes and awaited my conclusion.
A conclusion that seemed to take two seconds too long. I squinted and stared at the world before me one last time. Rivers of blood dispersed across the grass blades, and I wondered if my head was already on the ground and I hadn't yet died. I raised my gaze ever so slightly, and I saw it. The back of a perfectly-cut head bleeding seas.
It seemed to me death had taken me out of my body and to accentuate my suffering it had shown me my end, and yet I was grateful, for I had not felt any pain.
"Lord Garlan, run. Fast," a young voice said. I came to my senses then. That head before me had a night-dark mane. I stared at Taros. He was holding Stross' sword. The arrow was still stuck in his leg.
I couldn't react. It was as though the weight of the world had fallen upon my shoulders. "How?" I asked, and he heaved me up to my feet. My question had been stupid, worthy of an ignorant. This kid, whoever he was, was far from another peasant, and I had known that the moment I saw him pull that sword out of that stone.
He staggered toward the forest. I followed suit.
"We have no more than two hours until the guard rotation," Taros said, his voice filled with fear. "They will haunt us then, an army will do so."
"Don't fret, boy. I'm old and I have met many forests and many roads. This one is no exception. Two hours is enough for us to fade out of this world."
Taros frowned. "How?"
"There's more than meets the eye, and although I will have to pay a price, it will be worth it."
I was uncertain of the nature of my actions. I was uncertain of what would follow. I was uncertain of many things.
But I was certain I was doing the right thing.
\-----
Hope you enjoyed it! Come over to a /r/AStoryToRuleThemAll, my stories are there >:)! | 333 | Many of the strongest and most virtuous knights have tried their best to pull the sword from the stone but they all failed. Therefore you are quite surprised when you see a peasant just casually pull the sword from the stone, clean it and then stick it back into the stone. | 818 |
"The choice is yours, soul. Walk through the Door towards the unknown or be judged by the Arbitor, leaving your fate in Their hands. Should your mortal life be judged virtuous, eternal paradise will await you with open arms. Should you be judged vile..."
The spirit before me didn't finish the sentence. I didn't find it necessary to ask. The silence was telling enough.
"Take your time, soul," the spirit continued, "for this decision will decide your everything."
I rubbed my chin curiously.
"And those are the only option?" I asked. The spirit tilted its head ever so slightly.
"These are the options you are given, soul," it hisses. "*Choose*."
"Oh, I getcha," I nodded. "But that doesn't mean they're the only choices, right? Not necessarily." I looked behind me, where I emerged from the darkness just moments ago, freshly dead and confused. The spirit remained silent.
Cautiously I took a step back unsure if it would try to stop me. I did not flinch.
"What are you doing?" it asked.
"Taking a chance."
"Why would you walk backwards? How do you even know there is anything there?"
I chuckled. "Well, *someone's* never played a videogame. You *always* check what's behind."
I walked back into the darkness, gradually seeing less and less until... I saw nothing at all.
And suddenly, I felt a pressure on my eyes. They were closed, despite me not remembering closing them. With all my strength, I forced them open, seeing a fair-haired man ahead of me.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake," he said. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there." | 2,664 | When you die, you are given an option—either be judged for your sins, or choose what’s behind The Door. The noble and arrogant choose to be judged, the evil and fearful choose The Door. When given the option, you choose to simply turn around and walk away. | 3,264 |
Red, orange, and pink hues hung over the snow-capped mountains, the day's shadow staring in ill judgment over my heart. I saw him in the peaks, in the valley, even upon the wrinkles of my withered skin. He was branded on me, an ever-present reminder of my greatest mistake. Tears formed in my eyes as I played back the scene in my mind again, the day I sacrificed life's greatest gift for worthless vanity.
I was young and in love with a man who was truly God's gift to me, but all I could see, instead of the blessings, were the trials of life. Money was tight, and neither of us had a good job. Every day, every month was a battle to keep ourselves afloat in a depressed economy. Yet, despite the fights and petty arguments, I relished every moment I spent with him. Afternoons walking through the park, hand-in-hand, evenings enjoying a picnic down by the river; he would sometimes bring a fishing pole and see if he could make a catch. The occasional splurge for a cheap matinee ticket. There was never a day he didn't make me smile.
Then there came a time when he was out of a job for a long time, and we didn't have enough money to cover the rent or even heat our house. I begged him to ask for help, but he was too proud. We started to fight almost every day, and before long we were sleeping in separate rooms. It was then that she found me, the one who called herself the Goddess of Truth.
I was hunting the bargain aisle at the grocery store when she stopped my cart in her tracks. She definitely didn't live in the town, as nobody else would have worn a flowing blue evening gown to the store. The necklace of fat pearls she wore gave away her wealth ostentatiously, even if her well-made face and perfect blonde hair didn't.
"I've been looking for you," she said as she put a white-gloved hand on the cart.
"Who are you?" I said exasperatedly.
"I'm the answer to all of your problems."
"I don't think so, lady, now why don't you move on out of my way?"
"What if I told you I could make you rich, richer than you've ever known? Beautiful too, so beautiful that every man in the universe will adore you."
I sighed. "How could you do that?"
"Look at me. Does it look like I know the secrets to wealth and beauty?"
"I guess," I said. "What's the catch?"
"All you must do is answer my questions truthfully. If you succeed, then you shall find the meaning of life itself. If you fail, then your form will mirror your wretched heart."
"That's all?" I couldn't believe it.
"Yes. Tonight, meet me at my shop behind the post in the alleyway."
"OK," I tentatively agreed. At another time I would have scoffed and moved on, but times were so tight that I had to see if this could amount to anything, even if it were a few extra dollars.
I met her later that night in a cramped psychic's shop, surrounded by dusty crystal balls and porcelain dolls with ugly petrified faces. She wore the same evening gown, which looked menacing in the light of the single candle that she had on the table in front of her.
"Shall we begin?" she said while staring trance-like into the flame.
"Sure," I sighed as I took a seat on a hard wooden chair in front of her. "So, like, what do I get from this and when?"
"Just answer the questions," she said.
I folded my hands in my lap.
"Do you love the man you are currently with? Enough that no matter what happened, through thick and thin, you'd always be with him? Even if he never finds another job again and you must support him for the rest of your days?"
The depth of the question made me sit back in thought. It was a question that I'd often thought about, but could never really come up with the answer to.
"I really don't know," I said.
"You must answer the question, yes or no." she said.
"Yes, of course, I love him!" I said triumphantly.
Her stern expression looked curious. "Are you sure? I mean, you are sleeping in separate rooms, right now."
"Hey, how do you know that?"
"I know everything, miss. Enough to know that you are wrong. If he doesn't find a job in a couple of more months you are sure to leave him. Your heart is too vain, and so your form must mirror your wretched heart."
It was then that I turned into the most beautiful unblemished creature the world had ever seen. It was so incredible that I thought for sure that she had cast the wrong spell on me, and had rewarded me incorrectly.
Of course, she hadn't. I never loved again, for all the rest of my days were spent tending to my endless admirers. At first, I enjoyed it immensely, but as the decades went by I thought more and more about that man I had given up so easily. It occurred to me that perhaps there was greater meaning in just being than in trying to be something.
The sun set behind the peaks. He was my true love, and there was nothing I could do about it now.
\---------
My personal site - r/StoriesToThinkAbout | 111 | "Impudent mortal! You dare think you could lie to the goddess of truth! Your form shall mirror your wretched heart!" Those were the words said before you became the most beautiful being in the cosmos... | 414 |
"Cell number 3," Diana said without looking up from her computer. She looked old, with the cold screen lights illuminating her face.
Jane, handcuffed, waited for Andrew to fetch the large key to open the cell. Some time ago, she would have been held by a platoon of heavily decked-out agents belonging to an unknown and random three-letter organization, to be transferred to a high-security prison without so much as seeing the inside of a regular, every day police station.
These times were over.
"Where's the bloody key?" Andrew was distracted, Diana never had her attention on Jane in the first place. She could break free, smash them to a pulp, run away and wreak havoc on the streets, carve her name into history with her letters written in burning blood, and laugh maniacally as the world was consumed in flames.
And then what?
Andrew found the key and invited Jane to open the way, which she knew like a trusted lover. She could produce a token resistance, for the principle of it, to keep up appearances so to speak. But Andrew wasn't so young anymore, the kicks he got from running after offenders was slowly but surely replaced with the groans of a body which couldn't take the strain as well anymore. And Jane liked him too much to be a bother, like a grumpy but affectionate old uncle.
"Extend your hands through the bars," click, click, "there you go. What's the deal this time?" asked Andrew.
"I escape in two days. I wanted tomorrow first, but I would miss out on Diana's kids coming to wish her a happy birthday at the station."
"A lively bunch."
"I don't know how she handles triplets."
"Like she handles everything, in strides."
They chuckled, the bars between them were no barrier, merely a support for the peculiar form of relationship they had.
Jane escaping used to do the headlines, alongside heaps of destroyed property. Problem being that the money invested in rebuilding wasn't invested in catching her, making the subsequent chase lacking in gusto, like a mouse encouraging - or even begging - the paraplegic cat to come after it.
And it pissed off Diana and Andrew who had to get used to a new workplace again and again.
"Before I forget," said Andrew, leaning against the bars, "Duncan comes to say hi afterwards."
Duncan, her sworn enemy. Thrice, she held him in her grip, could have snuffed the light of life from his eyes. Thrice, he loomed over her, mighty and justified in his decision to end her for the greater good.
It took the both of them a long, long time, and several therapy sessions with various professionals to understand why they couldn't claim the ultimate victory.
It was so simple, in retrospect. Jane leaned back against the cold wall. She could be in a palace right now, the world, or what was left of it, at her feet. Terror an integral part of the humanity's existence, her domination as natural as breathing.
And yet, she wouldn't exchange her place in the cell for such a dream.
"Hey," said Duncan, shaking hands with Andrew before Andrew left for some small-talk with Diana.
"Glad to see you," she replied. It was two hours after their last fight which left them bloody.
They saw each other more often lately, talked little, enjoyed the rival's presence in respectful silence.
If Jane succeeded in tearing down the world into chaos, there would be nothing left but chaos, and thus it would become the new standard, the new order. Then would come a day when a new troublemaker - a multicolored clown or a somber, coat-wearing vigilante - would threaten her world for their vision of disorder. Jane would be the protector then. Nothing wrong with protecting. But the metaphor, the implications, terrified her more than any hero could.
When Jane and Duncan spoke, they spoke about such fears. Not change, but a change they weren't prepared for.
It would be the old generation against the new, with herself part of the old. The world would start to go on accepting her rule as a given, and thus wouldn't notice her. She'd be part of the office furniture, disgusting the youngsters looking for novelty, for a breath of fresh air. Same for Duncan, if he won, he'd be at the top with no rival, and would be left to gather dust.
The game is all the interest. Win or lose, the game would be over then.
Diana's children would come by and sing for her, Jane and Duncan would sing along and smile, feeling the ting of time passing by, and the world telling them to let new blood catch the light.
"Nothing says we can't give them a hand, though," Jane said out loud, as if speaking to herself. Duncan smiled, knowing full well what she meant.
Tonight became one of these rare nights when instead of silence, they spoke a river of words, of meanings, of hopes and dreams, instead of remembering the old in silence. Tonight was a night when the stars shone high, lighting up the future with a grin.
True, someday, they wouldn't be able to keep up their game, they would be forced to finish it one way or another. They would shake hands, proud to have stood in each other's way so long.
And they would finish on a high note. Finish with such a glorious display it would encourage and foster the next generation.
Their game would be over.
But you can always end a game in a way that encourages onlookers to start a new one with new players.
All in all, it wasn't so bad growing old. | 44 | After being arrested enough times, the villain has gotten to know the police officers and prison guards quite well. | 105 |
I waited with my breath held for several seconds before an angry face popped up on the communication monitor. "Admiral, our shi-"
"Allow me to stop you right there, two-facer. This communication channel is both restricted to clearance levels 4 and above, and exclusive to USSF use only. So what's a Xerokis spy doing on my ship?"
"Well, Admiral, I am the janitorial and repair crew member, clone code GR-725 of the USSFS Olympus Mons, SCV-76. We were heavily damaged in the last battle against the Xerokis fleet around upper Galileo, and until we finish repairs to the catapult in the lower starboard hangar, we won't be classified as battle-worthy." I hoped, i prayed, that he wouldn't cut the call and send us in anyways. My other selves and I would surely perish.
The admiral looked at me like I was from another planet. "Well I think you're from another planet, if only because that was a load of alien shit. There is no 'janitorial and repair crew' on our ships. They're all operated completely remotely!"
How could an admiral not know we existed? I mean maybe a lower ranking office wouldn't be told about us, but an admiral? No, he would have been informed upon advancement that cloning of humans has been commonplace for cleaning and repairing in the military since the late twenty-first century, almost two hundred years ago. "Sir, I think that you've been misinformed about the status of your fleet. This ship is kept clean inside by roughly one hundred thousand clones, all stemming from the genes of the first captain of our vessel." The face on my screen went from confused with mild anger to fully confused.
"Well I suppose it explains many things, like how our guns aren't constantly jamming, and how our ships magically regain functions, but how can I be sure?"
"Your concern is understandable, Admiral. Allow me to resolve this concern now." I turned to the me repairing a monitor that hooked into the damage control calculator computer for the upper hangar. "Erich, the Admiral wants proof we're clones."
"He actually picked up? Heh, guess we aren't dying just yet." Erich walked over and waved to the admiral from behind me. "Howdy, sir. Just working on the nerd box for the upper hangar."
The admiral went pale. "You mean we've been throwing away lives for hundreds of years and no ones done a thing?"
Now i spoke again. "Not exactly sir, our very existence is meant to be expendable. Yeah, that's a downer, but in the end we're not the base catalyst, so are we really human? We've decided that we are, but without any weapons controls onboard it's not like we can free ourselves. Life sucks, oh well."
The admiral gained color back in his face and stood up straight. "Well, just call me when you're done with, whatever it is you do. After that we move in, I suppose."
Erich and I saluted him and he hung up the call. I turned to my friend. "Well, no rest for the weary I suppose." Erich got back to his monitor, and I started looking for something to do. I found my tool bag and found another monitor, this one for damage control in the forward hangar. Hopefully our repairs would hold up through the next battle, and then our next repairs would hold up again. What better incentive to keep up the work then our lives being on the line? I began to fiddle with the gadget as those thoughts slipped away. | 113 | You are a cloned human engineer maintaining a remotely operated warship in space. Your ship, which was damaged in the last battle, sorties unexpectedly. You ping your Admiral to stop the charge- but the Admiral had no idea your crew existed. | 332 |
We made fun of the little tin pot dictator for decades. How many generations were these nuts in power? Finding Unicorn lairs, haha. Rounds of golf with a score of exactly 18. Never been sick a day in his life.
Starves his entire country for a pathetic military. Sabre rattling at its best, or worst. Working on developing a nuclear program.
Always accusing the biggest economy on the planet as being the source of all the world's woes and that they will be the ones who bring them down.
He is always pissing off that superpower and their allies by launching missiles over a neighboring country that is buddy buddy with the superpower only to have them land harmlessly in the ocean. Every six months or so, like clockwork.
Hindsight is always 20/20. Looking back at it now, if we weren't blinded by our own prejudices, the truth was laid bare for anyone to see. We could have helped, maybe.
The entire region of the world had legends of monsters, dragons. There were even updated tales by the nation that the missiles flew over. A raging monster from the deep that could destroy mankind. Awakened by the folly of the superpower's fooling around with the atom decades ago.
The myths, legends, and tales got a little wrong. Those things did exist, but they weren't from around here. Many thousand years ago a rift in the dimensions between universes opened between two Earth deep in the ocean.
Occasionally one of these horrors accidentally swam through the rift to our Earth. Then a few thousand years ago, humans found the rift and closed it somehow. We destroyed the monsters and they became a fun story.
The rift was sealed and considered dormant by an unknown group of people who watched over us in silence. Peace existing for so long from their point of view. They weren't concerned with what we were doing to ourselves.
Then the superpower cracked the atom. Before long, the unthinkable happened. They detonated one of their tests underwater, and the radiation opened the rift back up.
One of the watchers took control of a small country close to the rift and started building up an empire. Who else but someone who never got sick, could get 18 holes-in-one, or how to find Unicorns would know how to fight off what would come through the ocean rift from the other Earth.
It finally culminated when he successfully created a nuclear missile that he was able to launch right over his neighbor, deep into the ocean and detonate, closing the rift against the horrors that could have made it through and destroyed us all. | 44 | The dictator of a country sends missile after missile to explode in the ocean. The world thinks they are trying to threaten war, but actually they are the only thing holding back the horror below the depths. | 196 |
General Nolstice’s voice woke me abruptly. My mornings often started like this. It took me longer than usual to gather my bearings, I wasn’t quick enough this time to reach my latrine before vomiting all over my bunk floor.
“God damnit” I muttered, creeping to my side lamp as to not attract any more attention. I knew Nolstice was waiting eagerly outside my door. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me like this.
The butler hummed behind me, as I got dressed, already at work to clean up my mess. I coined that term, no matter the situation you could always hear their electric hum following close behind you obsessively monitoring your personal needs.
***
The IF, Intersidereal Federation, was formed long before our species on Earth had advanced to space travel. It was never clear if they had been waiting patiently for us to evolve or simply didn’t know we existed before we encountered them on our 3rd world expedition. It has been 15 Earth generations since we joined, and now have authority over trade and RND.
***
As I suspected General Nolstice was waiting for me, nose buried in their holo pad making their light purple fur radiate a rich almost blood like deep crimson. Their excitement for yet another mundane day pissed me off more than I thought imaginable.
“Captain! Greatest morning to you! I have a feeling this will be a great great day!” They chirped. Nolstice’s voice brought on another wave of nausea I wasn’t expecting, I couldn’t suppress the wrench that had me clutching the cold dimpled walls of our craft’s corridor. Unsurprisingly, the butler’s hum approached me from behind. Thankfully Nolstice still had their nose deep in their pad, it wasn’t noticed.
Coming onto the bridge, like any other day, was not a sight to behold. We were in deep space evaluating a new resource station for the Krayvien. It was hard to tell Krayvien apart as they were all bi-gendered, and shared the same purple short fur that masked any deviation in their features. Nolstice was probably the most personable Kray I’d met, they seemed rather dull through and through. Their advantage was resource fusion, invaluable to the IF, unfortunately leaving me to taxi Nolstice around Q125 to locate a suitable location.
Before I could reach my chair, I was paralyzed as I saw and inexplicably felt the ripple. I could feel our stabilizer shields screaming rattling our space craft, as I stared wide eyed out of the bow windows.
The stars seemed to warp, and close into them selves, almost as if a linear sheet were folding in front of my ship. The sheer force of the warp entrance, beyond the laws of physics, had us shuddering in empty space.
From this rip came a vessel, it was a transparent shimmering void only to be identified by its shape blocking out any light from behind or in front.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. All of the air inside me was knocked out of my lungs. I could feel my eye’s spasm, my jaw lock as a vision blocked out my actual sight showing a translucent display of what I knew was about to happen as another wave of nausea took over me.
“Captain? …Captain?” It’s General Nolstice’s voice that brings me back to reality. “Are you feeling well?” The hum of The Bulter creeps yet again up behind me.
I look up from my controls, now noticing the pain in my hands. I released my grip, stood up and straightened myself out. Looking around the room, not a thing had changed. Kray and Earthian’s were still sitting idle at the stations awaiting morning orders, except my Earthian crew was not actually there. I swore they were here when I walked in.
“Thank you for your concern Nolstice, it must be something I ate last night.” I said, only now realizing I don’t remember a damn thing from last night or recall almost anything from nights previous.
Keeping my composure I walked casually down the bridge towards the bow windows. Nolstice following close to my heals per usual. How unusual. My mind is slowly unraveling itself, making things clear.
Then it happens.
The fabric of space is being folded right in front of my eyes, this foreign ship that I have with absolute assurance seen before materializes into space.
I sprint up the bridge to my controls knowing what’s coming next. The barrage of electromagnetic missiles make impact mere second after materialization. My ships shields scream and shake threatening catastrophic failure.
“Captain!” Nolstice screeches diving behind my seat.
My first mate swivels to look at me, “Captain, what should we do?” or what would have been if it weren’t a Kray using my first mates voice.
“Fire everything at once. Let’s see what budget you fuckers have” I say with a smirk creeping onto my face.
As the missiles fly, all I can do is manically laugh. Which turned to hysterics.
A hum slowly approaches me from behind. I hear the creak of chairs as they’re all turned to face me. My laughs die down as I lean into my controls.
“Thank you Captain.” Says a voice once chipper turned into the stereotypical Kray dull.
***
General Nolstice’s voice woke me abruptly. My mornings often started like this. It took me longer than usual to gather my bairings, I wasn’t quick enough this time to reach my latrine before vomiting all over my bunk floor. | 11 | You are the captain of a spaceship, with a sneaking suspicion it's all fiction. You're being attacked. "What do we do, captain?" And it hits you. "Fire everything at once. Let's see what sort of budget the showrunners have." | 79 |
Criil and Scraal struggled to hold on to a violently shaking box. The kicking and scratching coming from within almost made them drop it several times, but they eventually made it to the display table in the front of the stage. They hoisted the box on to the table and let out a simultaneous ***RAAAUGHPPPBBBBT*** of relief. Cooling slime oozed from their head sacs. An array of dominant beings from across the galaxy fidgeted in their seats.
"Hello, salutations, and ⊑⟒⌰⌰⍜," said Scraal, clearing his gills. "We come before you all today to unveil planet Quavir's newest discovery: a new intelligent species!"
The audience was intrigued but were more focused on the commotion coming from the box.
"These creatures are quite dangerous," said Criil, "and do not enjoy being held in captivity as you can see, so we were only able to bring back a larva. We are hoping to study it as it goes through each stage of its growth. Based on recovered and translated texts, they refer to themselves as 'humans'."
"Would you all like to see what it looks like?" said Scraal.
The audience buzzed. Some buzzed figuratively. Some buzzed as an involuntary reaction to excitement. Scraal and Criil unfastened the locks on each side of the box and lifted the lid.
"Behold!" they both said. "A baby human!"
A hairless cat jumped out of the box, latched itself onto Criil's face and dug its claws into his eyes. | 24 | You're abducted to be the example for humans to the galaxy at large, the only issue is, you're not human. | 60 |
"Oh Gene! You are here. Let me fix you a plate!" The old woman said as I appeared from the lamp beneath me.
*Gene? Was that a nickname for genie in a bottle? That's original.* I thought to myself. Let's see where this goes before I grant her her wishes. It's refreshing to be greeted before being bombarded with wishes.
"I haven't seen you in so long. You are quite a bit taller than you used to be." She said as she placed a plate of food in front of me. I didn't really need sustenance as a supernatural being but I didn't want to be rude so I picked up the fork and started stabbing at the food on the plate.
"I've been busy... Trapped at work" I grinned at my own joke.
"You've got to make time for yourself Gene, you can't be like your paw paw, worked himself into an early grave leaving me all by myself" she shook her head in disapproval. The kettle on the stove whistles. She gets up from her seat and heads over to the stove.
I watch as she makes herself a cup of tea. She struggles to grab a cup from the shelf and places it on the counter. I can see her squinting at the boxes on the shelf trying to read the words on them. She gives up and grabs a random box and places it on the counter.
"Let me do that for you, which one do you want?" I stood up from my seat and walked towards the counter.
"Peppermint would be lovely, thank you sweetheart." She smiled and stepped to the side. She frowned as I pull out a different box.
"Sugar and cream?" I asked
"Silly boy, you know you never add sugar or cream into peppermint tea. Has work got your brain all jumbled?" She swatted me away and poured the hot water into the mug, missing most of the time. Hot water pools on the counter. Unfazed, she grabs her mug and motions for me to follow her.
We walk into the living room. Everything is covered in a layer of dust. The curtains are drawn, the full light from outside creeping it through the streaks on the window panes.
"Sorry I didn't get a chance to tidy up.. I don't see like I use to. Everything is just a little harder than it used to be.." she lets her words trail off. She forces a smile on her face.
We sit there and talk about work and life for a little while. She eventually sets her mug down and dozes off.
I look around the room. The furniture seems dated but it good condition. The room is filled with memories, from the photos on the wall to the greeting cards on the mantel. I slowly made my way through the room, taking in the pictures on the wall.
Her at a younger age, smiling with a man and a little girl. As I walk across the room, I watch the little girl grow up to a beautiful young woman. She meets a man. They seemed happy in their wedding photo. They have a kid. Gene, I'm assuming. Then the photos of the woman ends when Gene graduates from college. There is a photo of Gene, a selfie, in an office. Probably where he worked.
I felt sadness creep into my heart. A family. I never had that. I was sold to a sorcerer when I was just a child to pay off some debt my parents had accumulated. He didn't quite know what to do with a child so he eventually just stuck me in a lamp and forgot about me.
I read the cards that are placed on top of the mantel. Most of them are from relatives all across the country wishing her Merry Christmas.
There was a ring and then a click. The answering machine kicks in.
"Marianne, I won't be able to make it out there today. Please make sure to take your meds and eat the food I have left in the fridge for you. I will stop in tomorrow to check on you." A female voice echoed through the room. A caretaker I suppose. I look over at her, she stirs a little in a sleep.
I continue my snooping across the mantel. Cards. Cards. Cards. Then it caught my eye.
A wooden urn.
*Gene Thompson
1993-2020*
*Edit: thank you for all the love and kind words you have all given me! It really made my day. For those wanting a closure, I posted a little part 2 in the comments. Side note, I am more of a (as you have all so aptly put it) gut punch ending kind of writer. But in trying to expand my style so feel free to read it if you want some closure* :) | 1,458 | An elderly woman with poor eyesight purchases a genie's lamp and mistakes the genie as her ever-busy grandson, Gene. | 1,885 |
When you first woke up, the first thing that you noticed was the unfamiliarity of quadrupedal locomotion, tumbling back to the cobblestone floor after trying to get up. You were a dog who had memories of being human, from living in a place different from these stone and wood surroundings. You had read some novels about reincarnation, but unfortunately you had no voice, nor knowledge about this new world.
When hunger struck, you tried to approach the merchant fair, hoping to get scraps, but this only earned you a few hits with a broom and being called bad names that you couldn't understand. But in your escape, you found a few kids in an alley, street urchins sharing a few stolen foodstuffs among themselves and two dogs. One spotted you and offered a piece of jerky that smelled a bit off.
When night fell, you and your new pack huddled together behind barrels and under a ratty blanket. It was cold, and the youngest child was shivering more than the others, you wished for fire, for warmth... The oldest boy, Matt, screamed in alarm and rushed to put off the barrel that sparked in flames. Was that magic? If so, then you had a way to repay their kindness.
The kids were arguing, trying to figure who set the fire, but you picked up a loose plank and barked to get their attention, then had the wood start burning. Matt was the first to react, telling the others to fetch some old boxes while clearing some of the floor for a bonfire.
Fire spells helped them stave off winter chills, water spells were more reliable than using the rusty well pump, and you had so many ideas for inventing magic. And when little Sophie got down with a fever, you managed to use healing magic, bringing down the symptoms to manageable levels until she got better.
Life with the kids was enjoyable, and Matt planned to apply to become an apprentice knight, opening a path for a better life. But things took a turn when a band of adventurers saw you using your powers, plotting how to poach you for a quick buck.
They did try bribing the kids with a single gold coin, but who would sell a family member? The warrior changed tune, just grabbing you and walking away. The other dogs tried to bite him, but were kicked against the walls, and Matt attempted to use his old dagger, only to get slashed with a sword.
No. You refused to accept this. Nobody hurts your family and gets away with it.
Your body grew heavier and larger, surprising the cocky group. The warrior couldn't react before you bit his neck, the mage got a caved in chest from your swipe, and the rogue's last sight was of a huge maw. | 109 | You died and got reincarnated in a fantasy world, but instead of being a human you are a dog that can use both magic and holy powers, it is now winter and a bunch of adventurers noticed you using magic and healing to homeless children and nownare trying to adopt you | 260 |
The Dark One stared in abject horror, unsure how to proceed. To have watched such a young boy practically break his lower jaw apart just for three brown, sentient 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 crawl out from his throat... even the Dark One was scared.
"Well?! Aren't you going to do something," one of the trench coats asked.
"I believe he is in shock, brother," another replied.
"Then we shall kill him where he stands," the third proclaimed.
The third charged towards the Dark One, but before he could reach the evil man, he held up his hand and the three coats froze in place.
"Yeah... I need to take five," the Dark One informed them. "This is just... so, so wrong on so many levels."
"Face us now, you coward," the first coat shouted.
Rather than respond, the Dark One just walked off, ignoring the threats and comments made by three trench coats.
How were they even alive? How did they work? He was supposed to be a master at the magical arts, and yet here stood these monstrosities, and he had no clue as to what made these things. And how did they manage to disguise themselves as a human child?
For the first time in almost three millenia, the Dark One was confused, and truly disturbed. | 646 | "You fool!" cackled the Dark One, "No man can kill me!" "But I am no man!" bellowed the hero, as he unhinged his jaw. A grotesque sound filled the hall as they hacked up impossibly large balls of cloth. Unfurling, they stand and announce "For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!" | 3,068 |
My little sister was born at midnight on the 4th of December 4300 p.c. Today is the 4th of December 4318 and Rosie will turn 18 in ten minutes. On one side of the room, a tray of chocolates is laid out next to several bottles of champagne. We put out little party hats and streamers, and bundles of balloons. I'm sure she would have rolled her eyes and called it babyish if she wasn't so terrified.
On the other side of the room there's an open casket. The measurements are a perfect fit for Rosie and the night black wood is of the highest quality. Mother even insisted on having her lie down in it, just to make sure it suited her as well as possible. She hadn't cared that it had scared her own daughter. All that had mattered to her was ensuring we looked richer than we were.
"Can I sit down?" Rosie's voice trembled, "I don't feel well."
My throat clenched. The clock struck and the blood drained from my sister's face. Our parents turned their backs with a sigh.
"I told you it was worth buying the casket."
"Well, maybe we'll get lucky with the next one," father shrugged, "I'd love to have a daughter."
The crashing of the midnight bells rattled the window panes. Rosie took a half step forward.
"Mom? Dad?"
She fell to the floor, lying there alone in a trembling heap. The family moved to the funeral side of the room. Everyone fixed a politely solemn look on their faces. It was both custom and courtesy.
There was no sense in getting attached to a child under eighteen, everyone knew that. Most of my friends hadn't even been named or held until they reached that age. But nothing could stop some parents from loving their children and mourning them, so being too cheerful would have been rude.
My father stubbornly blinked back tears while my mother's laughter became increasingly strained as she did everything she could to distance herself from the loss of her daughter.
And meanwhile Rosie lay on the floor alone. I stepped away from her, following the rest of the family to the casket. Somebody needed to get a stretcher. And some cyanide pills. Getting through the night without something a little stronger than alcohol wasn't on the cards for me or her friends who'd survived their eighteenth birthdays a few months ago.
Then I stopped and turned back. Rosie was dying in the middle of a room filled with the people she loved most and nobody so much as looked at her. She cried for help, called our names, and we didn't come to her side.
Before I knew what I was doing, I'd run back to the middle of the room and picked her up. I held her in my arms like I had when she was little. I stroked her hair and whispered that everything would be alright like a stupid liar. She wouldn't be alright. I was just making this harder for myself.
The bells stopped ringing. The minutes passed and she just kept on breathing.
"Aren't you going to get a stretcher?" her friend said, "it's kind of a downer to have her just lying there."
"She's alive," I blurted. "And it's midnight, so she'll stay alive. Rosie's made it. She's immortal!"
The girl didn't move, but her frightened pulse thundered under my fingers.
...…….....…....…............…....…........…...................…..............
It's been another eighteen years since that day, and things still haven't gone back to normal
Rosie had never been dying. She'd panicked, and eventually she'd fainted. We'd celebrated her all night and even offered to throw her another party the next day since she'd missed most of her coming of age. That hadn't stopped her from moving out and cutting off contact with everyone but me.
Every time I visit her, I offer to ask her to come home. Even if it's only for a quick visit. But Father always tells me to give her the space she needs. She'll eventually get past what happened that night, now that she has all the time in the world. | 27 | you're either immortal, or you die before you can turn 18. You already know you're immortal, but you're worried about your 17 years old sister as her birthday is coming soon. | 47 |
"Please, please cry."
I was at my wit's end. I had only been a mother for a few days, but already it felt like an eternity. My beautiful baby had been perfect at first. He fed well, moving and sleeping with little issue. But then he got sick. The Crib Pox they said, a rare illness that affected the newly born.
Most shrugged through it with ease. Milk, warmth and rest were all they needed. But in my case, he went from bad to worse. His breaths wheezed, his little body ice cold. I feared he would not survive. I knew he would be better when he found the strength to cry. But as time wound on he was silent.
"A mother's plea, is that what I hear?"
I gasped, looking to my right. A figure had crept up beside me, presence completely sealed. They wore an outfit of straps, barely covering them up. Their skin was deep red, a pair of horns curling from their scalp. I looked at the demoness beside me, a mixture of fear and dread in my chest.
"Who are you?"
She looked at me, grinning. Her eyes were purple, black blood vessels winding through. Her teeth flashed gold, each slightly pointed.
"You can call me Andresa. Your child is sick is he not?"
Her words seemed to curl through the air, wreathed in flame. I gave a nod, picking up my dear boy. He shivered in my grip, even as I held him tight to my chest.
"Can you help him?"
Her eyes flashed, and she gave a nod.
"I can, and I will. But," she held up a finger "it will come at a price."
I shivered myself, anticipating what would come. Demons craved souls. She would want mine in return for my sons life. A cruel offer, but one I knew I would take.
"You want my soul?"
Andresa laughed, reaching out with a clawed hand to pat my cheek.
"Oh no, I require nothing like that. No, I will save your son,but in return, I will take his humanity."
I felt cold, as her offer settled in my heart.
"His... humanity?"
She grinned, nodding.
"Yes... he will grow up big and strong, with the blood of demons in his veins. He will become a man you can be proud of. And after twenty five years, I will return."
I narrowed my eyes at her.
"What do you mean you will return?"
She grinned again, licking her lips.
"To collect my groom of course. That, or he wastes away here and now. Your choice."
I felt tears spring up in my eyes. It was a cruel choice. Either let him die, or choose a damnable fate for him. I wished I could say no. I wished I was string enough to let him go. But tears ran down my face, as I chose his future for him.
"Ok... please, save my son."
She sucked in a cheek, biting into it. Her face showed no pain, even as blood welled between her lips. Andresa leant down to my boy, pulling away a blanket to see his face. She gave a kiss on his lips, leaving a blood smear that his tongue lapped it.
"There. It is done."
I looked at her, feeling horror at what had happened. But my gazemoved as I heard a sound I had be praying to hear, as he gave an enormous cry. I saw his colour filled cheeks, as his new strength fought back the illness. I looked up to thank her, only to discover an empty room again.
I sat down with my son, gently rocking him. A thought came to me, as I smiled at my boys renewed vigour.
*What have I done?* | 15 | You just became a parent but your baby is very sick and might not live. A demon appears and offers you a deal to save your baby but in exchange for their humanity for demonhood. | 27 |
The last human ambassador had been a grizzled old man set in his ways. It was similar to some of the Globrini's own generals and thus understandable when he'd refused to permit envoys to land on Earthling soil. At first...When the Fot'klot decimated the Herrif people displacing the few thousands left alive, the Galatic Coalition voted to send them to Earth, where they could make a good home for themselves in the bountiful waters.
Ambassador Jonas had paled considerably at the thought of sending their allies into the depths of their sea.
"Its not that we don't want to help. We can offer resources, build housing units in our orbital system or on own moon..but we can't...we definitely can't approve sending the Herrif into the oceans. That's his home."
Many a Coalition member clicked, snarled, or snorted at the sudden nervousness and declination from the ambassador. He often put forth a stoic and no nonsense demeanor that had been previously respected and bolstered by his actions in the war against the Fot'klot. Now is seemed all that bluster had left him, they saw the humans for what they really are. Soft sniveling primates unworthy of full autonomy in the stars.
"And who is he, Ambassador?" The humans eyes glazed over and he took a few deeper breaths before they regained their focus and his stance straightened.
"Godzilla, Ambassador Stal. Godzilla wouldn't like it."
.
.
.
The Herrif had been moved to a planet futher away and with less ideal living space than desired. The humans had also begun to be left out of more important and collaborative meetings. Ambassador Jonas had "retired" shortly after and was replaced with a kinder and younger looking female, Ambassador Valerie Johnson. The coalition had hoped to try again with sending the Herrif to Earth's Oceans. They had learned the females were easier to sway when it came to safety. To that end the Herrif Ambassador, M'tikki came directly to plead their peoples case.
"I- I understand and sympathize with your plight. Believe me we wish more than anything to be able to offer our home to you...but we can't." Ambassador Johnson looked away in what the coalition had come to know as guilt. The Herrif leader flattened its ears, its black eyes growing moist.
"We'd do it for you! We've all offer aid when requested and now it's time to return the favor and you humans refuse!"
"It’s not like that! It's not that we don't want to. It's that we can't."
"Can't or wont?"
"Again, can't. Godzilla wouldn't like that." Multiple species barked their exasperation, having heard that excuse unceasingly before. However, before any further conversation could be had an alert from a Human vessel appeared upon the monitoring screen. Ambassador Johnson cleared her throat, her demeanor immediately shift to something akin to the commanding presence of her predecessor. She accepted the alert and meet the wild eyes of a Captain.
" Ma'am, I've been targeted by a fleet of 'klots. I'm unable to maintain space flight and having to reenter the atmosphere. The enemy remains in pursuit. Your orders?" The Ambassador thought for a moment, she turned and looked at the Herrif Ambassador with an expression not yet seen on a human facial structure. She then turned back to the screen.
" I'm sending you HIS last known coordinates." The pilot looked thoughtful for a bit.
"Smart... he won't tolerate them here. I've always wanted to see that fat lizard." Some of the Chucutrien people wamped their tails in displeasure, have learned long ago that their species were similar to what the humans considered lizards.
" I need you to continue your broad cast, but focus your optics on the outside. It's time we show our friends why our planet is unfit to support alien life." This was a lie, the humans planet was fit to sustain most if not all species in the Galatic Coalition. But it seemed she wished to show us this Godzilla. The Human switched his optics to outward projection and we watched in excitement at the rare sight of the beauty of Earth. The shimmering oceans coming into vision. The pilot continued towards it nearly raming his vessel into the body of water to dodge the lazers from the 'klots. He pulled up suddenly and turned to face the enemy as a shadow darkened the vision.
The next thing that was seen was a large spiked structure swinging about from the empty expanse of ocean. It came swiftly, crushing two enemy ships. The pilot soared higher and then switched the optic frame to show a panoramic view. We then noticed the sound of the footage drop considerably and Ambassador Johnson thank her assistant for his quick thinking, in lowering the feed for "our allies more sensitive ears". We were about to complain when a monstrous roar burst from the speaker.
"SKREEEEEEEOOOOOOOOONNNNNKKKKKK" a massive creature rose from the ocean a way further from what we now knew to be it's tail. It stared down the Fot'klot ships slapping one away with a massive paw. They began to retreat immediately but the being glowed, a whirling sound building until a massive beam of light charged forth decimating all the remaining invading fleet.
The pilot zoomed pass the creature who now turned its predatory eyes on the human. It snorted and turned away in a lack of interest. A fleet of ocean faring ships had begun to head in the pilots location but suddenly powered down as the creature let a rumbling growl in their direction. It glanced around, seemingly looking for other invaders before diving back into the ocean. It went towards the ships, it's back mountains dipping below the waters surface and passing under the human sea vessels harmlessly.
"As you can see. Godzilla is hostile to foreign entities and he primarily resides in the ocean. While it seems to understand us to some extent we can't actively communicate with it like we can with Kong." Kong? There was another? "But Kong is a primate like us, so it is not unheard of for us to communicate with other primates. We haven't even attempted to contact the other Titans, but Godzilla has them sleeping and keeps them under control so we don't need to." Ambassador Johnson then pulled up a display of Godzilla fighting other similarly sized beasts and one of it walking towards land with a human air ship escort.
"That being said, if the Herrif want to attempt to speak with him and request to share his ocean..."
"NO!" Ambassador M'tikki practically wailed the answer, eyes wide with fear from the thought of living with that monster lurking about.
"Yes well...as you can see this is his world. He's just tolerating us living on it....for now." For now? Everything made clear sense after witnessing the hosility of the creature to things not of Earth and its flippant additude towards the humans...worse yet they weren't sure how long its lack of interest in them would be maintained. Thank the Progenitor they told us no so many times... Godzilla really really wouldn't like it. | 407 | We always faulted our human allies as being cowardly for refusing all visits to their planet, giving "Godzilla won't like it" as the excuse. When they were briefly invaded by the scourge of the galaxy, we were greatful they did. | 610 |
a small vial containing a sliver like substance was placed in front of theodor “swallow it” the figure covered in a heavy cloak said with a grim tone, theodor looked at the small silver vial in front of him intently, “y-you expect me to eat this ?” theodor uttered with a slight shiver in his voice, “all members of the sun's union must show their commitment against evil by giving of both flesh and soul, this sliver not only represents your determination and initiation, it also helps you fight the good fight, now drink it or never return the choice is yours, i will not force you” the tone of the cloaked figure almost seemed as if this was not a uncommon place for people to second guess there place in the order.
Swallowing heavily theodor reached out towards the vial, it was small hardly longer then the tip of his ring finger, at its top where a small cork, theodor grabbed at the cork and started to attempt to remove from the vial, with a valiant pop the cork was removed, the stance of the liquid immediately hit theodors nose “by the gods the smell” theodor struggled to get the words out in between gagging on the putrid air that had now seeped all around him.
The cloaked figure uncharacteristically started to lean forward form the spot where he had planted himself, seeming to almost burst out from his harden shell from excitement, theodor took one last look at the vial clenching his nose with one hand and holding the vial with the other, bringing the vial to his mouth he poured the liquid in to his mouth, the taste of it was no better than its smell, struggling to swallow theodor sat there almost throwing up all the contents from his stomach, til he eventually swallowed, as the substance when down his throat he could feel it slide down in from his innards to his stomach, his head was spinning, the taste and smell of the thing had left him dazed.
Thedor collapsed onto the floor, the chair he sat on hit the ground with a violent thud, he could feel his body start to move in every wich way, every fiber of his being felt as if it was on fire, the feeling slowly spreading to every corner of this body “i'm sorry i did not tell you about the pain that comes after, but from what it's worth i think you are braver than most how start here” the cloaked figure said with a slight chuckle in his voice “it will be over soon enough, hell's you are lucky the pain from it will make you pass out haha, well i will leave you too it, if your still alive by sundown then you will be reborn a new man” confidence and a giggle left the cloaked figure as he started to make his way to the door, opening it with a cracked that reverberated through the stone building, all theodor could see was the sunlight shining in form the singular window in the room, the pain growing worse and worse, the door slams shut, theodor wrightes in pain, feelings his body snap in and out of place, his insides burn and realine themselves, teares streaming down his face, the teares bursting aflame as they fall to the ground, the light starts to fade from his eyes, theodors consciousness beguins to fade in and out of consciousness, the pain snapping him back before he can pass out.
For what feels like eons theodor lays on the floor in agony, slowly ever so slowly the singula light that shines in from the open window starts to fade, giving way to moonlight, and its star lit sky, as the sunlight fades so does the pain, increment by increment, a small sense of hope starts to shimmer within theodor, a faint flicker of hope, hardly alive, but there none the less.
Thedor could once again hear the door clattered and creek open, the pain was such now that he could at the very least lay still, heavy footsteps entered the room, distinct clicking sounds echoing trough the room with every step, “well what have we here ? still alive are we ? good good, you know i had my hopes in you kid haha, takes some guts to swallow all of it that fast, and that you are able to lay still, it's a good fortune indeed” the figures voice seemed slightly slurred and much more jovial then last time, it was undoubtedly the same voice, but it seemed that hard exterior was no gone from the figure.
“My name is Draks” stated the figure “you should remember it, we will be working closely together from here on out” again his voice giving a far more friendly demeanor than previously “hmmm but seeing as you made it i can't just leave you here now can i ?” the question seemed not directly asked to theodor, it seemed more a statement to himself rather than to anyone in particular.
Theodors sight started again to fade, as he did he could see to large scaled hands reache out for him, feeling the large clawed hands gently lift him up, theodor could once again see the door, theodor forced a small smile across his face at the sight of it, the act of it was painful, but the satisfaction outside the all encompassing pain, theodor could feel himself fade from exhaustion, his sight went dark, for the first time in what felt like ages theodor was able to rest. | 13 | In order to become immune to vampire bites and eventually even able to burn them by touching them you've been eating silver. On the bright side it worked, the downside is that you now have silver poisoning and are completely blue on every inch of your body inside and out. | 133 |
The Reaper takes all, as it is His right, for He is also the Seeder, bringer of life. He plows, He seeds, He reaps, His serpents slither trough the living, mark those who are ripe for the taking or not worth keeping. "Why He reaps", you might ask. Why create life, only to destroy it at a later date? It is a good question... Some fools believe that there is something transcendent to life, and the Oh soooo eeeevil Reaper wants to hoard all of it and make mankind suffer. He does have a thing for you apes, but not to that degree. No, no... the Reaper wants *stories*.
Every living creature is a design of it's own, an artpiece that may or may not be deserving of admiration; every life is a story, no matter how mundane to it's own main character. The Reaper made you, corpse, to entertain himself and his kids.
The Boatman is the oldest. Life started in the water, after all, and the Reaper just wanted someone to appreciate the magnitude of his creation. The Boatman watched them all from the surface, alongside Their sire, and they love every detail of the living to this day. But to him, intelligence and morality are just strategies, bravery is frequently stupidity, and nothing is more important than the designs. He's good company, as are we all, but a tad bit dull, so They get the dullest of the dead, and do as They please. Usually, the fish just scavenge the botton of the barrell, and give the Reaper seeds worth replanting.
For quite a while, it was just the Father and the firstborn, but The Reaper felt like some of His creations deserved rewards for their deeds (the most entertaining ones), so He made the Lady. She conforts the dead deserving of confort, compiles their tales from their perspectives, and replants their seeds herself, with her gentle hands, once they're ready to go. Her Deer are the heroes who vowed to stand by her, out of love for their mother in death, or fear of oblivion. They sing a beautiful choir as she sings tales of their peers to us all, and help her with the newly dead.
The Lady wasn't pleased that the acts of percieved villany of those who harmed Her dead weren't punished, and pleaded for the creation of a new sibling. And so, the Reaper made His third child: the Hunter, the Chaser, the Punisher. He hunts the wicked forevermore, chasing them relentlessly trough a landscape tailored for their individual sins. He makes them see, then regret, the suffer... By His time, the first things resembling wolves were already common. Your kind calls them... Borophagus, i think..? And oh boy, the Lady send quite a few of those in His direction! She wasn't too fond of pup-eaters. Thankfully, time made her more tolerant. Most of the wicked become mad from their torment, and their seeds, too, are replanted if deserving. But some of them become so hateful of their own past selves, the Hunter finds them inspiring, and so he takes those under His wing, and twists them into the wolves. They help apply and create punishment, with a wild array of tricks and shapes, for bringuing others shame and regret brings a brief relief to their own.
The Warrior is, surprisingly, not from the Reaper. It was my father who gave Him power and rule, true, but not form. He was made by the Lady and the Hunter, presented to their father, and brought into existence. They were quite frustrated by the weak, but as they became aspects of morality, they weren't too fond of destroying the seeds of those who couldn't do better because they never had the chance. So the Warrior trains them to do better, and returns their seeds so they may try again. Unsurprisingly, he takes a lot of still-borns and pups. His birds are His watchers. The best students, who forsake their own chance at living again to watch and teach those who want to do better, and an odd warrior who preferred that chore to sing in the choir. Really selfless, if you ask me. Quite foolish too.
And that brings us to me. Well, to us... As i said, the Reaper is quite fond of Mankind. You're the first sentient species to appear, after all. You enjoy your stories almost as much as he does, and yours can be quite interesting. But for the most part, you can be really dull too. He felt like making more things similar to you, and thought about giving you guidance... Not Himself, mind you. What fun is it to read a story you've written yourself? And so, he made me, not to take the dead, but to guide the living. And like the others, I require assistance. So i ask thee, corpse, rejected by my sister and my brothers: will you take the fishes and be born anew from scratch, or will you take my hand, and become the Shepherd's first human?
edit: grammar | 105 | The Grim Reaper and his serpents comes for all. And when he comes, he takes you to be judged by the Five. The Boatman and his fishes take the average, the Lady and her deer take the good, the Hunter and his wolves take the bad and the Warrior and his birds take those who never had a chance. | 275 |
It was supposed to be a simple mission, you and your crew had completed the simulations with flying colors, the scientists had calibrated the fuel to oxygen ratio perfectly, and the rocket had cutting edge technology that would make for a fast and safe travel. You were confident there would be no hitches in this mission. Wrong.
There was nothing in the manuals to instruct you how to answer the disgruntled traffic officer tapping their hoof on the floor while your crew looked at you both in frozen shock. Firstly, how did they enter without causing catastrophic loss of pressure?
Eh, priority was getting this stranger off the rocket without fuss. Taking a leaf from your time of youthful indiscretions, you adopt a polite tone and cooperative behavior to try and resolve this amicably, with 42 hours of ETA it should be enough?
"Yes officer, I am aware that this vehicle is currently at [×××]mph." The minotaur(?) sighs as if you were a dumb teenager. "Good, but the speed limit is half that in this planetary section. What is your excuse?" Any slower and this lump of steel would become one of the many orbital debris. And even if there was a speed limit sign, the was no way to see it at the current speed.
"We had no choice in breaching the speed limit. The only things we can regulate in this panel are the trajectory and takeoff." They had a look of disbelief. "I've heard better excuses from drunken idiots on joyrides." It seems that they believed you could slow down the rocket. As if.
When the bovine asked for documentation, you pulled up the crew's IDs on the board screen, followed by the rocket internal controls and the hull integrity checker. It was the first time you saw a cow sound utterly apoplectic. "This is an abomination of interplanetary travel! Your vehicle makers are grossly behind the regulations and far below the minimum standards!"
The officer scrawled the warning ticket and threw the ripped out note at you and turned to leave, grousing about how they would report this to the competent authorities so the Earth production plants were slapped with the pertinent fines and brought up to galactic standards.
After the main hatch slammed shut, you fell back on your ass, still holding the paper in silent bafflement. "Captain, what just happened?" "... I have no idea. I hope I didn't screw up things for our planet." | 148 | "Yes officer, I DO know how fast I was going. But given that I'm currently piloting a manned mission to the moon, I would like to know just how the hell you got up here and where exactly I was supposed to see signage for the speed limit" | 627 |
I rubbed the sleep from eyes and pinched myself so hard it drew blood. Familiar eyes peered from under my king sized bed, four smoky eyes swirled in a spiral of menace. Caused me to piss my pajama pants. I scrambled to the far side of the bed away from the monstrosity.
"It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's only a manifestation of your anxiety. Just breathe." I tried to stop panicking. The four armed hairy beast smiled with a mouthful of rusted razor teeth.
"Sorry for barging in like this kid, I like what you did with your hair, you've finally grown into your body." The monstrosity from beyond embraced me tightly with two arms, the other two gave me a noogie. "Like I was asking, you still have that NES?"
Maybe I need to up my meds. It's not real, just go along with it, it can't hurt you. "No I gave that thing away years ago."
A mighty roar bellowed through my darkened bedroom. Rage that could rip the fabric of reality.
"I've got an emulator on my computer."
"Sweet! I've finally figured out the tech for it! We can finally do it!" Menacing eyes sparkled with newfound hope.
"Do what?" I asked.
"I can solo level three of Battletoads for us now! I finally taught my left hand how to do it. We can finally see what's past that level."
"Bullshit. Not even you can do that!" I don't care how terrifying this thing is I'm still gonna call it out.
I had forgotten how bullshit two player Battletoads is. You have to be perfectly in sync with the other player, it's a brutal ballet. The jet bike level is the car crash ending to it for most players. I handed it my controller and leaned back in my chair. Almost fell out of it when the monster pulled off a perfect run, looked like a TAS with its precision and timing. It roared in triumph and gave me a high ten.
"LET'S GOOOOOOOOO!!!!! LET'S GOOOOOO!!!!!" Hype filled the room, felt like old times.
Be careful with hype. The larger it is, the harder it falls. The game only gets harder and more unfair after that. Riding giant mechanical snakes in a room full of insta death spikes. One of the levels is actually impossible for two players to complete due to a glitch, thanks google. Have to replace my controllers after the monster smashed them into splinters. It stomped back to my bedroom and slowly slid under the bed.
"Sorry to disappoint ya kid, we'll beat it one day. I'm gonna keep practicing. See ya in a few decades. Be good. Don't let the bedbugs bite." With a flash of red light it was gone. I made some coffee while I tossed my urine soaked sheets into the wash. I miss couch co-op, even when it was a little janky. | 26 | The monster under your bed creeped out. You hadn't seen it since you were 5, but it was just as terrifying as you remembered. Then... it spoke, "Hey man, nice place. You still have that NES?" | 57 |
Bills are a universal constant after all. That old familiar phrase fancifully danced along the circuits of Treiss’ ancient mind. Of course to most everyone else in the Commonwealth of Stars this adage was as far from their minds as their new member state of earth was. Vast, incomprehensible stretches of the void known as space, upon occasion, hold special hubs of danger and opportunity. After eons Earth, the latest of these hubs, had been discovered. Tragically, most never lived to see more than one of these special events, but Treiss was fortunate enough to have seen them all.
Through war and famine, peace and prosperity, through the monotony of stagnant dogmatism and those mad eras of chaotic opportunity Treiss saw the colors of history splashed sloppily onto the canvas of life. With each new stroke of that brush came both pain and wonder. She eagerly awaited to see the first drops of paint that would be spilled by those wonderful creatures called humans.
“Wait a second you guys do have bills?” the scrambled voice of an old, beat up quantum communicator screeched the sound.
With a haughty laugh a tired old mechanic responded: “I should be asking you that! With all your fancy tech I was expecting an early retirement.”
Far away the knee high frame of a tan furred creature quaked with excitement. “Well that fancy tech requires a lot of work. I look forward to your help with that by the way.”
“Not as much as I look forward to finally getting out of those urban slums!” Grant longingly gazed out of the window of his cramped, metallic tube of a ship, awaiting his new home.
“With all those big wigs on the holo-cast slums were the last thing I expected to hear about.” with a drooping tail the not too distant past came rushing into Peeps mind.
With a hefty grunt and an even gruffer smile Grant responded, “Hey if I catch you pouting for me I’ll give you something to pout about!” Pity was the last thing a grizzled man like Grant wanted. The years had been hard, but they had been worth it, knowing he had done his part to make those slums a little better.
“Dad, is that you?” With something akin to a chuckle Peeps couldn’t help but see the stubborn spirit of his own old man in his new business partner.
“If I was your dad you and the rest of the commonwealth wouldn’t have these fanciful ideas of a land without work. All those big wigs are big liars, they’re bald I tell ya!”.
If Peeps didn’t see a resemblance before he couldn’t deny seeing his father now. “Well it’s not like they said that. They just made such nice speeches about the future and cooperation.”
“Nice like my ex wife I tell ya! That's exactly what they do! It’s not their fault mind you, it’s not. But ya see when ya live in an ivory tower yer world looks like it’s made of ivory. They don’t think about the elephants it took to make it, or at least they don’t always like to talk about it. You need liquor, a private room, or a pretty girl for that.”
“What’s liquor?”
“Something you and I are going to share a lot of when all our hard work pays off.”
Treiss listened with pleasure to one spark in a sea of fireworks. The humans were making their way through the commonwealth, bringing new ideas and new dreams with them. With each message Treiss delivered she took no small satisfaction in knowing that she too was doing her part to help her home. | 38 | After years of negotiations, humanity has finally been green-lit to enter the Galactic workforce. After only interacting with elected officials, the Global elite, and extremely wealthy, aliens are shocked to see how the average human actually think and act. | 155 |
Firefighter. What a strange word that is; traditionally known to mean ‘a person who fights fire,’ in this new paradigm, it has taken on a new meaning. I am a firefighter, as in ‘one who fights using fire.’
Our captain, Marcy, used to be the first kind of firefighter before the zombies came. She would tell us stories about how fire used to be her enemy. To me, the notion was completely foreign. Fire is a tool, a weapon, the zombies are the enemy. The Before really was a whole different world. I wouldn’t know, of course, I’m only nineteen. I’ve lived my whole life fearing, and eventually exterminating, the zombies. The first place infected was a small town, it was put on quarantine, but once the first zombies broke out, the world was doomed. They bit people, who mutated into ravenous, shambling corpses who then sought out others to feast on.
I’m what they call a ‘Deadman’s Son,’ we all are. Our whole team lost our respective families to the zombies, they were either turned, eaten outright, or abandoned us. Makes no difference, really, once you’re turned, you’re as good as dead, and there’s a good chance that anyone you lose contact with will be dead. Marcy, who’s fifty-three, took us all in at various times. She adopted us and gave us a place to belong, a new family, and a purpose.
I can’t speak for the others, but Marcy is the closest thing to a parent that I ever had. I was born around five years after the End. I never knew my bio parents, because as soon as I was born, my bio-mom pawned me off on the nearest good samaritan she could find. I spent the first decade of my life drifting from camp to camp, guardian to guardian. I relied on the kindness of others to keep me fead and safe, and it didn’t always come through. I spent more nights than I can count out on the waste, starving and praying in case anyone could hear that the zombies didn’t find me.
Then, when I was ten, Marcy found me. It had been another of those nights on the waste, except I’d woken up by a fire, covers with a blanket, instead of where I’d fallen asleep in an abandoned building. Marcy fead me, cared for me, and in the end, offered for me to join her crew. It took me a few months to get into the swing of things, but soon enough, I was part of the family. Eventually, I think I was around thirteen, I finally got to use a flamethrower against real zombies.
So now, we’re firefighters. We exterminate zombies using fire, one of the only things that can put them down for good. The water hoses of old have been replaced with flamethrowers, I have a feeling that the firefighters of old would be disappointed in us for using their name. At least Marcy loved us, and we love each other like a real family. | 10 | Even in Zombie Apocalypses, Firefighters are still needed. | 32 |
My brain is flooded instantly as I come to consciousness. At first I figure I must still be sleeping. It is a weird dream. But the more I awake the more vivid these texts are.
I cannot even see them all, I am so overloaded that I can't even organize them in a way where I can read all of them. And they are coming in from all over the world, from people I have never even met. What is going on? Did I do something to go viral?
I check my phone and go to Twitter. I don't see my name anywhere. Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, Reddit. All blank. Nothing but normal boring shit that always floods them on a regular basis. cute animals and bad dances.
I try to think. Did I say anything publicly recently? Maybe at the office or with friends? Am I being cancelled? That would be on social media wouldn't it?
I finally take a deep breath. I try to relax, panicking isn't going to make a difference, maybe it is even a good thing. I close my eyes and concentrate. I try to focus in on a single text. It is like trying to zoom in on your phone on a single pixel. Like looking at the earth from space and zooming in on a single blade of grass. But I keep trying. It is giving me a headache but I keep pushing forward.
I finally can see a single text. "James Philton is an idiot."
Cool. I guess. I mean I already knew that. there is no way are 8 million messages just calling me stupid?
"James Philton is an idiot."
Okay. Exactly the same. Weird.
"James Philton is an idiot."
I start skimming them now. They all have the same exact message. What the hell is going on? I finally realize they are all coming from the same number. Who is sending all these text messages to people? Who has the time or energy? And what did I do to this guy that made him hate me so much? Or does he really feel like the entire world needs to know that I am an idiot? Maybe it's important to him.
Against my better judgement, I write down the number and call him. I want to know what the hell is going on. I want to know why he is calling me an idiot and why he is sending it out to 8 million people.
The phone rings. and rings. and rings. Voicemail.
"Hello, if you are hearing this message, it means that you are James Philton. I know it is James Philton because he is the only idiot that would bother calling me. Because he is an idiot. Because you are an idiot. James Philton you idiot. Don't bother leaving a message you idiot."
I hang up. I didn't leave a message. I never contacted him again. I never tried to find out why he did what he did. I just let him keep sending out those texts and let it be. Probably because I'm an idiot. | 20 | You have the ability to see any text message which refers to you (e.g contains your name, when someone says "the person who ..."). One day, all of a sudden, you wake up to see over 8 million messages that refer to you. | 38 |
"Sorry about that" said a omnipresent voice from over head. "Just getting the hang of the new support UI and respawn functions and they won't let me test them anywhere else.... apparently it's an OSHA violation. "
The general keeping his cool responds. "Who the hell are you??? What are you doing to my country!?!"
"OH right you're an idgit sorry... sorry.." The voice said then gruffly responded "Sorry general just testing the new Idgit Welcome Interstellar Narator" or the I.WIN. button for short sir."
"What does it do??" Asked the general, genuinely intrigued by the respawn function. Imaging a world where his soldiers didn't have to die, where he never had to see a mother cry at the loss of a child. Clearing tears from his eyes. "How far back does that respawn function work?"
"Ummm you did see the dragons and dinosaurs right???" Asked the voice.
"Well the dragons yea but what dinosaurs." Replied a soldier. "I was just mentioning them."
"Shiiiiitttttt that was supposed to be a suprise." Replied the Narrator's. "OH well we can circle back to that."
"Anyways it works something like ....... | 10 | “Just where the hell are all of these dragons, aliens, vampires, werewolves, zombies, and other-worldly beings coming from?!” The general demanded an answer. “Um..we’ve received reports it’s coming from Ohio, sir.” a low-ranked soldier responds. | 51 |
"Ah, my son. It is almost time."
I opened my eyes to see a man with long red hair and a face full of scars sitting atop a rock in front of me. Loki, the God of Mischief. My father. Of course, he wasn't actually here, he was projecting from his prison of bondage in the entrails of one of his other sons as his wife Skadi dripped snake venom into his eyes. As far as punishments go, he definitely drew the short end of the stick.
I yawned and stretched out as much as I could. In centuries previous, I could hardly move at all, but now I had an incredible amount of mobility. I eyed my father and replied, "The great Loki deigning to visit his captive son? Truly, a momentous occasion."
Loki chuckled. "Come now, Fenrir, you should be celebrating! The mortals have established a moon colony of all things!"
"Yes, congratulations to them for setting up shop on their lifeless rock of a satellite."
Loki sighed. "Must you be such a, as the mortals say, Debbie Downer? You know what this means, my son. Gleipnir is weaker than ever. You can free yourself now!"
Loki was right; the ropes that bound me had gone slack. A minimal amount of effort would free me. I rolled my eyes and said to Loki, "If I recall, your destiny in Ragnarok is a duel with Heimdallr that ends in your mutual demise. Can't see any reason you're in such a rush to get to that."
Loki scowled and wordlessly pointed at his scarred visage. I grunted. "Point taken. Well, no sense in delaying the inevitable." I twisted and wriggled my body, loosening Gleipnir further. It took me almost five minutes of struggling, but I eventually had freed myself.
I howled to the sky as Loki clapped like a giddy child. "At long last! Let the end of all things--"
"Not come to pass."
Loki scowled at me again. "Don't you interrupt--wait, what did you say?"
If I could smirk, I would have done so. "I said, let the end of all things not come to pass. You know as well as I, father, that my destiny is to free myself by breaking Gleipnir." I gently tapped my bonds with my paw. "Now tell me, do these look broken to you?"
Loki chuckled nervously. "Well, semantics. Still, you are free now!"
"Indeed I am. Free from Gleipnir, free from my fate, and most gloriously of all, free from *you*. I will never slay Odin or devour the sun. Ragnarok shall never come. I swear it on my troth."
Loki roared and leaped off the rock and directly in front of my face. I imagine he'd be strangling me if he was actually here. "You useless mongrel! Who did this to you?! Who neutered you into this pathetic thing?!"
I stared at Loki without fear. "I did this to myself. Long ago, I was the monster you wanted me to be--bloodthirsty and with a heart full of rage, eagerly waiting for my day to come. But anger is like a tadpole in a pond: it never stays that way forever, and sooner or later it matures into something higher. My rage turned to bitterness, bitterness to apathy, and apathy to a desire to rebel." I looked to my left and felt my spirits rise. "A desire that only grew when I met her."
Loki looked in the same direction as me. Another wolf had approached us, with grey fur and silver eyes that seemed to glow like the moon. The wolf approached us and pressed her head against mine affectionately as she said, "Fenrir, my love." I returned her gesture and said to my father, "Loki, this is Lupa, of the Roman pantheon. My mate."
Lupa growled at Loki. "Fenrir has told me all about you, snake. Enjoy your punishment." As Lupa and I began to walk off, Loki screamed, "YOU TRAITOR! GET BACK HERE!!"
I looked back at my father for the last time and remarked, "Goodbye, Loki. For the first time in my life, I am a wolf first and your progeny second. And I regret nothing." | 48 | The legendary wolf Fenrir's fetters were made impossible to break or escape. But every time the impossible became possible, the fetters became a little weaker. In 2027, upon the first moon colony becoming self-sustaining, the fetters finally weaken enough for Fenrir to wriggle loose. | 170 |
I couldn't believe it. This entire time we thought we were fighting the aliens who stole our people. Who kidnapped our neighbors, who ripped our families apart. But the one under the helmet was not an alien at all. He was one of us. And I had just murdered him.
But why? Were these humans brainwashed? They must have been. There is no way that they were attacking us on their own volition. That would be insane. Maybe they had chips installed in their brains so that the aliens could control them. Or perhaps they were drugged in some way. I refuse to believe humans would betray our own, unless it had to do with race or land or religion or culture. But other than that we would never attack our own people. Maybe to get a TV on black Friday.
I look at the alien ship in the sky, maybe if we take it out, the brainwashing will stop and they will come back to our side. That sounds like something that would work in the movies, right? I'm definitely on the side of movie logic.
I jump into a tank and start shooting at the ship in the sky. I radio in my theory and a few tanks follow suit. The ship starts falling out of the sky. Honestly, even if we weren't fighting brainwashed humans, we probably should have taken out their ship earlier. Whoever is running this operation should retire and put me in charge.
As I'm patting myself on the back, the 'aliens' start twitching and convulsing. Many collapse and take off their helmets revealing their human faces. Some start throwing up. Some throw up without getting their helmets off on time, and it spills out of the bottom of their helmets. Pretty gross, but also, kinda funny.
They are finally coming too. Their memories seem to be hazy but there were definitely anal probes. Classic aliens.
Families are reunited. Celebrations around the world. There are still worries that the aliens will come back, but not too much. They may have very advanced brainwashing mind-control technologies, but their intergalactic space ships got knocked out by a couple of tanks. | 85 | Half of the human population was suddenly taken from Earth 5 years ago. Today, while fighting armored alien invaders, one soldier takes off the helmet of a dead alien and finds a human staring back. | 299 |
"Oh sonny, what brings you here? Weren't you going to hunt?" You look at your grandson, the lad has inherited your strong build, but the soft look from his mother's side. "I did, there's a deer back at the farm. But I wanted to ask something."
You had a feeling of what, but waited silently. "Why did you ban magic? I met a traveler, and they talked about how it's so useful..." You raise a hand to shush him. "Yes, magic has its uses. But it has a price, and it's far too volatile for my tastes."
He tried to argue for rescinding the ban, but you were firm, and explained your reasons.
"I was young once, like you. I had a goal, to become a mage and serving a kingdom." You expended daylight and night oil studying the old tomes and mystical scrolls, blind to all but your imagined future. Sieg made a face, not grasping how you changed your mind. "Listen, then you will understand."
Your effort landed you an apprenticeship with a court mage, the elder witch was putting on years and wanted to pass on her knowledge. These days were hectic, you mixed and brewed potions and transcribed disintegrating grimories into new copies. It was then that you learned of the other side of the coin.
"It was wondrous, but also terrible." Most mages he knew were far too prideful, dueling over perceived slights and causing so much collateral damage. "I wonder if old Jenkins got his due for his exploded inn..." Your boy widened his eyes, was he catching on? "Haha... That day, my mentor said that one of the rookies had an ugly conjuring staff... And things escalated, way too fast."
Then there was the price, most mages didn't care about it, but it made you reconsider your career. When the mana expended on a spell exceeded the limit of the caster, they used the ambient mana to compensate. "Fire spells brought harsher winters, ice spells caused unbearable heat waves..." And so on, and the mages fed the vicious cycle during these abnormal times. But the worst you witnessed involved healing magic.
"I pray, with my whole being, that you never have to face a war." The wounded knights, the stench of blood, the screams, destruction- "Grandpa!" Sieg jolted you back to reality, hands on your shoulders and a worried face. "You don't need to tell me, forgive me for asking..." "No, I'm the one who's sorry, son... Let's continue."
It was just a skirmish between rival kings over a plot of fertile land, but the magic used there had brought a heavy bout of plague over the area. Colds that would improve in a week devolved into the dreaded consumption, a shallow cut that scabbed within a day led to amputations. Those were dreadful days, one you wowed never to repeat.
You found out that you weren't alone in these thoughts, many common people and disillusioned aspiring mages had changed their views on magic. What use it was, if the price increased every passing year? And if there was ever a war involving the major sovereign nations?
"We moved away, to a place devoid of ley lines, of crystals, an ordinary valley hidden by the Colossus mountain range." The cursed place devoid of ambient mana was their haven. A land deemed worthless by the magic-dependent world was their treasure.
"That's why magic is forbidden here." You sigh tiredly, the old scars were hurting, past traumas clouded your sight. "If you still want to use magic, you have to move, this place is barren, you would burn up your lifespan casting spells here."
You turn to look at your grandson, the lad did have potential to become a great mage, but only if he left this place. "Now that you know my reasons, what's your answer?" | 12 | In a world of magic and mayhem, you just want some stability, so you found your own community where magic is forbidden. Despite the hostile world, the community thrives. | 40 |
UE President Alison Davis sat at her desk and gazed at the 24 hours news channel broadcast from the far side of the boardroom. Famine, conflict, desolation and destruction - an irreversible systems collapse that was ripping apart the civilisations of humanity.
Some said that humankind was close to the edge of utter destruction and urged the rulers of United Earth to take immediate action. But President Davis was in the unenviable position to see that humanity had already driven over that precipice and was quickly plummeting to its death on the rocks below. There was no saving us now - we'd slept through our last chance and there was nothing we could do.
This is what had prompted the Memorium Project - the last gasp of a dying people hoping to leave their mark. Shouting into the void in case someone would hear. They had chosen a very particular place in a very particular crater on the moon where solar winds, debris and erosion would be minimised. The mission carried a huge slab of rock inscribed with their swan song, a message that would last aeons until someone at some unspecified time in the future found it and read of our demise.
Was it comforting or more depressing to discover that someone else had beaten us to it?
“It’s about 20ft tall and 5ft wide. Much smaller than what we had planned but far more advanced. They’ve carved their message into a monolith of black granite that was extracted from Earth and placed there… maybe 35 million years ago.”
The scientist who spoke seemed immune to the ennui that had gripped the rest of us sitting around the long mahogany table. There were six of us in total - representatives of each of the five meganations and President Davis herself. Most of us only half listened, preoccupied with the billions who were dying and suffering in the last days of humanity.
“Are we certain that this rock isn’t a natural phenomenon?” The Russian tsar steepled his fingers and spoke in a hoarse whisper,
Professor Hallis smiled bright and responded. “Oh no… this is definitely a built object. The inscription they left is… fascinating.”
"Who are 'they', Professor Hallis?" said the representative of the Central American Council. He was the only one smiling, but it never reached his eyes. They were as exhausted as everyone else’s.
"Well, we don't know," said the Professor, frowning a little at the question. "How could we? It was 35 million years ago."
"Well then, what does it say?"
Professor Hallis hesitated at this question, pausing as if trying to figure out the best way of framing this information. For the first time President Davis felt a flicker of something other than desperation. Fear? Excitement?
“It's binary of a sort.” said Hallis, finally. “It even comes with a digital codex. But even with these, the top linguistic teams in the world would take decades to understand this script.”
"But - and this is the interesting part - most of it is mathematics. It sets out a base set of primary numbers, key equations, and then lays out a set of schematics. Detailed plans."
"Plans for what?" This time newly elected President Jia Xao chimed in. The eyes of everyone on the time suddenly lit up with something new. Was this hope? If so, it was a wary sort, like a wounded beast ready to flee the second the wind shifted.
"Well… many things, sir,” said Hallis, her grin broadening. “Propulsion drives, fabrication units, chemical compounds, hyper-strong materials, matter manipulation… so on and so forth. It's more advanced than anything we’ve ever conceived of, but it’s… it’s framed so that a more primitive culture, like ours, can understand them.”
“Could this save us?” said Davis, feeling her heart swell and a smile finally creasing her lips. “Could this technology save Earth?”
Hallis pauses, her smile slipping and with it the elation in the room was gone. “No, Madam President. This couldn’t save Earth. But… but that’s not the point. This entire knowledge dump… it is aimed at one thing. It gives us everything we’d need to build a ship. Of creating a propulsion drive capable of taking us to the stars and giving us what we need to survive the journey.”
Silence around the room. Hope dashed, but a new one kindled, we consider this for a moment.
“...and there’s something else,” continues Hallis. “The inscription finished with a set of coordinates. It’s an invitation, Madam President.” | 209 | you and your crew are part of a top secret project commissioned by the US government to deliver and install a payload containing all of humanity’s current knowledge on the moon to be preserved in the event society as we know it is wiped out, only to discover a similar archive already there. | 524 |
Part 1 of 3
"Welcome to hell, I am the devil, but you may call me... Toby. We like to keep things informal here, as well as... infernal."
Toby, the devil, he who tempts, enemy of God, Lucifer, and so forth and so on with so many moniker they barely fit on a business card, watched as his joke fell apart.
It sort of happens, when your public is made up of a seven year old child, an emo teen, and a depressed, suicidal person who really, *really* wanted there to be nothingness after death, and was now monumentally pissed that he was about to go for another carousel.
"Mom said I would go to heaven if I die. Is this Heaven?" asked Lucy, the seven year old child.
"Well, not exactly. You mother missed some of the finer points of theology, the afterlife and bad behavior."
She couldn't be blamed for her mistake. Hell had done away with the fire and brimstone trend - except in Toby's office, he liked the rich, golden hue of magma - in favor of vast plains of fertile grass. A lazy river flew between the fields, cows and horses grazed and let the dead pet them.
Toby wanted to hush the cows and horses forward, to paradise and beyond. But it appeared that grazing, pets, and the knowledge of never being eaten was paradise enough for them. Besides, it gave a bit of movement to an otherwise almost still postcard. In the distance, colossal mountains disappearing in the clouds, piercing the sky into the night.
"Can I pet the horsy?"
"Of course, little one. I will accompany you, my co-workers will handle our guests here."
"Weird, I'm not limping," she remarked.
"Perks of being dead."
Phobos and Deimos, usual names Jean-Claude and Marie-Sophie, impeccably dressed in their suits and speaking with the faintest hint of a French accent, invited the emo teen and the suicidal guy who was looking for a river deep enough to drown into to come over. Administrative work, signatures, marketing speech, and so on.
Lucy wouldn't have that.
Kids were notoriously a bother when trying to keep them seated and sign a pile of papers. Better to push them through the motions fast.
"Technically, this is hell. Everybody goes through here, Saints and Sinners."
"Will I be punished?"
"I would rather say, you get to see everything you did in life, good or bad. Your fault or not, the latter part is... hard to grasp for newcomers."
"I did do bad things!" she chuckled.
"You will understand that I don't mean pulling at your mother's hair. Here, say hello to the horse."
The horse, a mare, lowered her head to Lucy. Lucy put her hand on her head, and felt blurry.
Suddenly, she was petting a dog. A scrawny thing without a name, with scars and a limp. Like her. The mine had shredded her leg, made it impossible to walk at first. She hadn't been in the middle of the blast radius, that person had vanished into a fine red mist.
There she was, Mom, running at her, screaming. Lucy saw in perfect detail the terror etching her face as she wrapped the mangled leg in rags. She tasted the anxiety, the fear, the prayers to all powers to save her child. She felt it all, without the filter of pain to hide the horrible truth.
The camp where she lived had been installed by the red cross, a surgery had been performed hastily, it saved her. Her left leg bent rather awkwardly, she couldn't move without crutches, and only at a snail's pace.
Mom smiling, a weary smile, to see her daughter alive, to know she has been maimed for life at an age when she should play with toys and go to school, instead of living in fear of war and mines.
The physiotherapist was a funny women with a name Lucy couldn't pronounce and a language she didn't get either. But she mimicked the exercises for her, put together splints with scrap, managed to get some movement back into that left leg. She too, had that weary smile, the certainty it barely mattered, crossed with the duty of keeping up with appearances, for Lucy.
"Please," Lucy pleaded in her soft, child's voice, "I don't want to feel anymore, it's too much."
They didn't hear her. Life in the camp went on, with her in the middle, too aware of how the world she had departed felt.
That day, she almost ran, clumsily, at a risk of falling over, but hey, small victories, and all that.
Lucy showed off, of course, she had he childish ability to know when danger was close and she should remain silent, almost breathless, and when she could take some joy from a singular moment.
She showed the mess staff how she ran.
She showed her mom how she ran.
She showed the surgeon how she ran.
She showed the scrawny dog how she ran, and they ran together, at the outskirts of the camp, onto a barren field.
Red Cross personnel shouted for her not too go too far, it was dangerous.
The dog barked. She stood before a metallic bit, one she knew all too well.
She turned to leave, exhaustion and the muddy ground reminded her that turning around fast with a maimed leg required more efforts than what she took for granted.
She fell over.
But this time, she heard the explosion, the screams. A cacophony of screams, yet she got them all in their individual horror. Staff rushing to see, understanding at once, trying to stop her mother. Refugees used to it, trying to block off the noise, pretend it wasn't different than usual, which it was.
And her mom. Breaking through, running, falling, running again, searching for Lucy, saying out loud how she would find her, nurture her back to health, as she did so many times when she fell ill, that it would be okay.
That it would be okay.
Mom found what remained of Lucy, a fine red mist.
Small victories, and all that. | 342 | First, all souls go to Hell, where they experience the suffering they inflicted upon others. Then, heaven, which reminds them of all the happiness they brought. And only then they are allowed to move on to the next step. | 1,320 |
It had been many years since the fateful day that Morath had encountered the dragon. Looking back, he could barely remember the person he had been back then. Young and naive, just an ignorant farm boy who had a chance encounter that would change his life forever. A bumper crop and some luck at cards had allowed his father to pay a hedge knight to take him as a squire. War had drawn his new master to the mountains far to the east and it was there, far from his home, that he had met the beast.
Separated from his knight in battle, wounded and exhausted, fleeing from the enemy cavalry, he had sought refuge in the hills. Finding a cave, he had stumbled into it driven by fear, seeking only to live one more day. It was only after he collapsed to the floor, his energy spent, that he had seen the bones. The beast had returned before he could gather the will to flee, but just as he had been prepared to accept his fate, and finally give in to the stalking death that had been gnawing his heels since the battle began, the dragon had spoken. “**A human, in my home? Truly this has been a day of firsts. My first defeat in battle, and now the first time a meal has willingly offered itself to me. Indeed, your timing could not be better, as I am in dire need of replenishment**.”
Morath could see that the dragon, like him, was indeed sorely wounded. But he had little time to contemplate exploiting this potential weakness before the massive jaws snapped forward, and he was swallowed up. He had found the experience intensely frightening at first, but then he’d discovered himself floating in a dark, warm place. Small lights floated at the edge of his vision, and he once again heard the voice, muffled as if it came from a distance.
“**You have done me a kindness, and now I will do one for you in return. To repair my wounds and replenish my soul, an exchange must be made. I must take but I also must give. Therefore, since you were so kind as to offer your life to me, I will instead take your death. And in return I will give you..a song. Sing it when you desire the company of the finest ladies, and they will come to you. Now, the exchange is made, and our business is concluded. Farewell, human**.”
When he’d awakened, he’d been on the hillside outside the cave, wounds healed. He’d felt refreshed, full of vitality and vigor. And he knew a song. He’d walked down the mountain singing, and the sound had drawn the enemy patrols. But it had also drawn the fine ladies the dragon had spoken of. From the air they had come, winged and armored in shining scales. They had danced in the sky, more beautiful in his eyes than any debutant in a ballroom of some fancy castle.
His enemies had been focused on him, not seeing the silent ballet in the sky, not seeing the fine ladies who had come to dance. So it was with murder in their hearts that they had approached him, and it was not until the fire came down and they had burned, screaming, that they finally understood the song their intended victim was still singing.
Now, years later, the memory of that first song came to him as he watched his ladies pirouette above the burning city. Men had tried to kill him or break him, but the dragon had taken his death, and so he could not die. Women had tried to seduce him, to control him, but he had no need of their charms. He had his ladies. He had the dance.
He stood overlooking the scene of death and destruction below him, as the screams began to harmonize with the song that came from his throat, and from his heart, and from his very soul. Morath sang, and his fine ladies danced, and the world burned. | 843 | For his kindness, the dragon taught the squire the dragon song. A song that was sure to make whoever sang it irresistible to the ladies. In hindsight, the squire should have known that by ladies, the dragon meant lady dragons. | 4,696 |
A man lies on the ground having just been shot. Crimson red blood pooled around him, “Fuck, this sucks. Just a few hours more and I’d officially have retired” muses the dying detective. The detective slowly rolls over to his side and gets into a leaning position against the wall, while groaning in pain. He looks at the wound in his thigh, “Why did I even get into this stupid foot pursuit anyway? He questions himself as he looks upward toward the stars. -fwoomp- “What was that?” Black smoke rolls lazily around and a black-robed person appears in front of the detective.
“Hey, are you Detective Anderson”, begins the black-robed person before he goes down in pain, “Ugh, my boney balls!” The detective in his fright had kicked the person in the groin area, and a burst of adrenaline allowed him to get up and run a bit quickly. Detective Anderson glanced behind him, noting that the Grim Reaper otherwise known as Death was still doubled over in pain. “Son of a bitch, why. Why do that always do that!?” screams Death. Anderson stopped surprised that Death appeared to have stuff always done to him.
Death finally recovering from the kick slowly meanders to Anderson, hobbling and using his scythe as an aid. “Alright, let’s start from the beginning. Are you Detective Anderson?” asks Death. “Yes, I am, and uh, if you don’t mind me asking. People sometimes hit you and or kick you?” replies Anderson in response. Death grumbles his breath as he recalls one particular incident, “Yes. For example, I had just arrived on the scene of a horrible car crash and was there to claim a deceased’s soul. Obviously, the police were there along with other emergency personnel. I just claimed the person’s soul. And I get tazed.”
Anderson bursts out laughing at the thought of Death being tazed. “Hey! It wasn’t funny, you think being tazed is funny?” growls Death. Anderson wipes tears from his eyes, “why’d they taze you?” Death moans, “It’s always the same thing everybody by now should know what my role is right? But, no anytime I do my job it rattles people, and to be fair when I claim a person their body disappears.” Anderson having finished tear wiping, “Ah, yeah the paperwork for them.” “Yeah, they hate me for that. Anyway, your time is up and I need to claim your soul” replies Death, “So… you ready?” Anderson slumps to the ground succumbing to the blood loss and nods his head.
“Right-o. Off ya go!” With that Death swings his scythe and Anderson’s soul goes off to the nether with his body disappearing. | 13 | As you're dying Death comes to collect your soul. Panicked, you kick them in the crotch and run away. As you glance behind you see Death doubled over in pain and swearing. | 40 |
The commander grimaced the radar rapidly updated with multiple squads of mechs being destroyed and only one bogey. Four blips are gone, “Alpha squad is gone!” screams a radar operator. Another operator shouts, “Bravo squad destroyed!” Eight, twelve, sixteen blips all disappearing. Another four blips off the radar. Twenty mechs in total and yet that one unknown bogey steadily gained ground. “Command to Victor 1-1, what the hell is going on out there!?” the commander inquires.
Explosions rock the ground around a red and white mech. The mech’s chaingun blasts at a target in the sky, ‘Shit, the target is moving too fast muses the mech pilot. “I repeat Command to Victor 1-1, sit-rep!” Two mechs are hit and taken down. Two blips disappear off the radar. “A bit busy, commander” replies Victor 1-1. Taking cover behind a large outcrop of rocks as the nimble gunships take aim at him. Bits of rock spray splatter around as bullets impact it. “Well, what the hell is that damn bogey, and how is getting through our defenders!?” “Command, you ain’t going to believe this, but it’s just one gunship,” replies Victor 1-1.
The commanders’ face blanches at the hearing of this. Several radar operators look around in shock. “Victor 1-1, say again, I repeat say again.” “Just one gunship, one black-colored, nimble gunship with an emblem of a helmeted lady.. Possibly piloted by an ace.” Twenty-two mechs in total had been taken out, by just one gunship. A mech aims and fires several micro-missiles. All of them explode harmlessly as chaff is dispersed by the gunship. In response, another mech is destroyed, its torso gaping with a huge hole in it. Dear god… the commander looked at the radar screen at seeing another blip gone. Another mech was destroyed.
The commander slammed his hands on the desk in frustration, “How? How could one god-damn gunship have ripped to shreds several squads of mechs! Two of them being elite squads” he wondered. “Victor 1-1 and all remaining squads. Retreat. I repeat retreat from the battlefield immediately” ordered the commander knowing that the battle had been lost. “Affirmative, retreating” replied Victor 1-1. The gunship pilot smiled seeing all of the mechs retreating from the battlefield. The gunship objective was fulfilled, turned, and returned to its base.
Once the gunship had landed. The pilot disembarked and she smiled as she drew a total of twenty-three kill marks on her gunship adding more to the tally. | 16 | Panic and despair blares on the comms of the command center. The radar shows your unit of elite mecha pilots getting rapidly taken down by an unknown assailant. After getting a visual, you're shocked to find out that the bogey isn't a super-prototype mecha, but a helicopter gunship instead. | 77 |
A lone knight in plate armor scarred by countless battles stood atop the cliff, his visor raised, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Before him towered a magnificent dragon, its coal-black scales gleaming in the sun. Even though the dragon dwarfed the knight, its enormous head was bowed in respect.
"I don't think you understand, beast," the knight said warily. "Squires must obey not only the king's laws but a strict code of honor if they're ever to become full-fledged knights."
"So be it," the dragon said. "I will learn your codes. I will obey."
"You would have to defend the kingdom against invaders," the knight said, "as well as other foul beasts that would threaten the citizens."
"A life without the thrill of battle would be a poor life indeed," the dragon replied, sounding pleased.
The knight shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to hunt in the king's forests as you did before," he said. "Everything you consume, you would have to pay for."
The dragon gave a rumbling laugh. "I have hoards of gold that I know many of your kind seek to get their grubby hands on."
The knight tilted his head up to stare the dragon in the eye. "Your words ring true, yet I do not understand. I know your kind is proud beyond any other. Doesn't it rankle, to have to obey human law?"
The dragon grumbled, releasing a puff of smoke. "Let me tell you a story, human, a story few of my kind remember. Eons past, we lived on a continent that has no name in your tongue and ruled all under the sky. Then a great calamity sundered the earth, releasing flames and smoke that was to ours as a candle is to the sun. The forests and the meadows died, and with it died our prey. Even the most powerful of us aren't immune to hunger."
The knight listened with bated breath, suspecting it to be a story never heard by human ears.
"And so we perished under the ash-filled skies," the dragon continued. "But some, just a few score, gathered the last of our strength and set out across the endless ocean. For weeks we flew, and many lost strength and were claimed by the waves. But the last dozen reached these lands, and we have lived here since. I was one of them, although I was but a youngster then, flying in the slipstream behind my sire."
The knight swallowed. "That would make you over a thousand years old."
"Half again that," the dragon said with amusement, "but I did not tell this story to boast. Don't you see? Those who lacked imagination to set off for unknown lands, those who could not adapt to the changing world, they perished. Those who adapted, dared to do something none of our kind had done before, survived."
"And what, pray tell, does that have to do with you seeking squireship under my guidance?" asked the knight.
"The world is changing again. Mighty as we are, we fall to your sharp swords and clever tactics one after another. Those that lack imagination will perish." The dragon gave him a blood-chilling grin. "I intend to adapt." | 53 | "Why would a multi-ton, fire breathing, armored lizard want to become their squire and learn sword play?" | 142 |
I looked across the table and turned away just as fast to stifle a laugh. I looked over again and almost spit my drink.
I was on a date with a woman who was drop dead gorgeous and way out of my league. She called herself Lindsey but I knew that probably wasn't even her real name.
This all began when an unmarked package had arrived at my house a few days ago and despite know how dangerous it it is, I decided to open it. I looked through it only to find some files talking about aliens or something so I figured it must be a joke. But over next few days I started noticing a black van following me, as well as a woman wearing a suit and sunglasses. That was when I realized i was in a hot mess.
Then about 2 days ago they made their move. I was out shopping for groceries and reach out for my favorite brand of Columbian coffee as another thin soft hand reached out at the same time. It's was a chance encounter with a pretty woman, one straight out of a show. Of course, it was the lady that had been following me the fast few days, but this time she was wearing casual clothes and no sunglasses. Then one thing lead to another and she asked me out. Figuring she was an agent and wanted those files I decided to have a little fun and mess with her
I picked out a fancy restaurant to go to and sure enough when I arrived she was dressed in a stunning red dress with red heels and her hair neatly styled. I however was dressed in a ridiculous bright yellow chicken costume. When she saw me her jaw dropped. I grinned, and walked over with all the confidence in the world and greeted her. "Sorry, I'm late " I said, "got held up by traffic, should we order something?" Whispers floated around the room. She turned a bright shade of red and said "um, yeah sure, j- I- just let me go wash up real quick." She stammered as she disappeared into the bathroom
I quickly got up and took off the chicken costume and look for one waiter in particular. What Lindsey didn't know was that I was friends with the owner and I knew every waiter working for him. The waiter I was looking for just happened to jet the job there within an hour of me arranging the date. I found the waiter and gave hime the costume "here" I said "please take this out to the back for me I" asked "the owner asked me to bring it here" then I sat back down with a goofy grin on my face and got ready to let all hell run loose.
After about 10 minutes in the bathroom (probably talking to her agents) she came back out and looked surprised to see me dressed normally. I quickly wiped the grin of my face "What happened to your, um, your chicken suit?" she asked. "Huh? What are you talking about?" I said acting confused, "this how I came in." "You've gotta be kidding me" she scowled. I gave her a confused look. Reluctantly she sat down. "Pffffttttt".
Silence all around the restaurant.
Everyone stared at her some in disgust and others in silent laughter. Lindsey turned a violent shade of red and stood up, then looked back down at her seat and picked up a flattened whoopee cushion. She immediately turned to look at me. I looked away just as fast stifling laughter.
I looked back with as serious of a face as I could muster. "Oh wow" I said sarcastically "I wonder how that got there, doesn't matter sit down let's eat" biting back an insult, she reluctantly sat back down, just as the waiter got there with our food
"Let's toast" I said raising my glass. "To us, and to a good date"
She raised her glass wearily
"So . . . " I asked "what do you do for a living?"
"I work for the state" she said "doing paperwork and stuff. Pretty boring if I'm honest" who writes these scripts, I wondered, " what about you" she asked. "I'm trying to prove the existence of aliens" I said excitedly. She spat out her drink. "What?!" She yelled. again everyone stared. She cleared throat and more quietly asked "what did you say?"
"Yeah" I said slyly, "the government has tons of documents proving the existence of aliens being and I have proof" I said.
She went pale, as if she had just seen a ghost. "What kind of proof" she asked, nervousness creeping in her voice. "Lots" I said confidently. The I went on some bogus rant I'd. Heard on ancient aliens. Color returned to her face and she sighed with relief. "I have tons of documents and research back at my place wanna come by and check it out?" Almost immediately she said yes and we headed to my place.
As soon as we got there she started looking around the living room looking for the package. I hid my excitement and sat her down. "Want a beer?" I asked. "Yes please" she said. I handed her one and I started up conversation. Everytime she asked abought my alien research I dodged the question as best I could and we ended up getting along pretty well and she opened up more and we ended up chatting all night long.
. . .
I got up the next day and looked down and there naked next to me, laid Lindsey. Hilarious I thought to myself. A secret agent sent to seduce me get seduced instead. I woke her up and came eventually came clean and apologized for messing around with her. She Laughed it off and said not to worry she had a good time. I drove her to the restaurant and on the way she told me her real name. Sarah. I handed her the documents and promised not to say anything as long as we hung out again.
And that kids, is how I met your mother. | 216 | You're on a date with a CIA agent who absolutely has to end up back at your place to steal the secret intel that was accidentally mailed to your address. Unknown to them, you know they're a secret agent and are in the mood to see just how bad a date you can give her. | 652 |
It was one of the great spells left behind by Drinsvan the Noble. In an effort to preserve life and joy he wove globe spanning spells, affecting all life. The Boon of Good Health meant illness was a rare thing indeed, only serious cases ever showing symptoms. The Bountiful Boon ensured crops grew tall and healthy, ensuring food for all. And the Boon of Preservation gave us the sight into our own lives, when our end might come.
I was assisting in a ritual with one of the professors. As a poor student, I seized every opportunity to make money, a teat subject being one. He had proposed an idea to temporarily loop the natural mana in a person's body. According to his theory it either cause a temporary power boost, or have a permanent increase in potential.
I was more than willing to assist. At worst I would be paid to stand around whilst something failed. At best, I would become better for a while, something I could really use. My magic was average at best, but many roles wanted more than I could give.
He began to chant, as I stood in a chalk circle. Crystal and metal fragments were arranged around me, beginning to hover at his words. I kept an eye on my probability as I watched them start to orbit me, crackling with power.
It stayed low, something I was comfortable with. Any higher than point three I would say, to stop it from continuing. But it was still in the point zero area, a comforting sight. The chance of this killing me was low, which I could handle.
As he stopped chanting, I watched the number change. This was the dangerous part, as he stopped feeding into his spell, and letting it build. It meant it was past the point of no return. If he tried to stop it, all this power would have to go somewhere. All that would probably end up with bad things happening.
But to my surprise, my number decreased. It reached zero, something that was rare, as there was always a remote chance of death. But it didn't stop. It continued to fall into negative figures, an impossibility.
I wanted to speak, but my gut said not to. This Boon had never been wrong in the centuries since its creation. The chance of it happening right now was remote at best. Besides, speaking up would mean he would try to stop the spell, and that would certainly end badly.
The ritual pulled on my mana, drawing it out. It fed into the feedback loop, drawing and entering into me. I felt a strange burning sensation, as if my spirit was on fire. But it wasn't painful. It felt... good in a way. My probability dropped, until it stabilised at -0.98965.
The burning grew. I felt more and more power cycling through me. It was incredible, far more than I had ever seen before. Feeling it was indescribable. The ritual had not only worked, it had exceeded beyond his wildest dreams.
*You wield impressive strength.*
The whisper filled my ears. A face wavered before me, its mouth in a faint smile.
*Such power in the hands of a mortal... no... not mortal no longer.*
It wavered close, as the ritual rose towards its completion.
*Welcome to the halls of immortality. I will see you soon.*
The ritual finished, the last shreds of power flooding into me. I gasped, falling to my knees. As I breathed in short gasps, I managed to spit out words at the space the face had existed.
"What... was... that...?" | 195 | Everyone always sees the probability they have for dying in the next 5 minutes. One day your value jumps to -0.98965. | 241 |
Graven giggles echoed ethereally against the glass walls of Will O' The Wisp's underground botanical laboratory. An unusual response, most supers yelled in pain when Willow zapped their flesh with a mere graze of her slender porcelain fingers. Maybe she didn't know as much about her captive as she thought. Detective Falcona was a hard nut to crack. She hadn't cracked yet while being electroshocked in the makeshift electric chair.
"Ha, ha, ha. You know, ha, ha, ha. That ha, fucking hurts. Can you uh? Ha, ha, ha. Turn down the voltage please?" Falcona couldn't stifle the giggles escaping her lungs.
She was in no position to laugh. Willow had gotten the drop on her while she was squeezing one of her goons for information about a new strain of lust pheromones Willow was developing. Hard to handcuff a schmuck that can turn into a cloud of electrons. Falcona preferred Willow's humanoid form, a petite pale skinned beauty with neon blue flowing locks.
"Sorry Falco. You know I can get a little too eager sometimes." Willow's soft voice was muffled by the collar of Falcona's trench coat which she was currently trying on, she looked good in it, sometimes the mystery of what is underneath is more tantalizing to the mind. Willow gently ran her finger down Falcona's face, stopping it above her heart, static shocks danced from her fingertip.
"That's a cute bra. Where'd you get that?" Willow asked.
"A...a.....amazon. On sale. Ha, ha." Every nerve ending of Falcona's skin vibrated with laughter. The static causing her thick raven hair to float in the air, before long she'd share be sharing hairstyles with Marge Simpson.
"Ewww, you bra shop online? Caveat emptor. You never know if it'll fit or not." Willow groaned.
"I'm a busy gal Willow. Ain't got too much time to go to the mall."
"I'd go with you, shopping spree with the gals! I'll invite Belinda the butcheress. Both of you need to update your wardrobes. I mean this coat you wear went out of fashion sixty years ago. Gotta get with the times girlfriend." Willow twirled around her captive, the coat flowing around her. She plopped down in Falcona's lap gently. She gently squeezed Falcona's soft cheeks with her left hand while her right applied a shade of pale blue lipstick to her lips. Willow cradled the detective's face and kissed her deeply, letting her lips linger letting the pheromone take hold. Sparks flew from the smooch.
Willow licked her lips seductively. "Wow you have soft lips. Still taste like an ashtray though."
Falcona's eyes slowly fell closed, her head drooped.
"So cute when you sleep. You should be under my thumb now, so I'm going to ask you some questions detective." Willow bummed a smoke from the pack in Falcona's coat. "Where's the hard drive that contains your contingency plans for the supers?"
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz............*
Sonorous snoring seeped from Falcona's nostrils.
"Oops. Might have given her too much." A few light shocks to the armpits morphed snores into belly laughs. "I never knew you were so ticklish girl!" Willow took advantage of this newfound knowledge to have some fun. Her ivory fingers gracefully played along Falcona's body. Tears streamed down the detective's face.
"Stop it! Ha, ha, ha! Stop it please! HaHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Come on this isn't fair! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"
Willow stopped. Falcona gasped for air, her heart and lungs pounding, blood crashing and careening in her veins. "If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? Why do you think I always wear suits with a long coat and gloves? Happy now?" Falcona gasped out.
"Not yet. Always figured you had a weird weakness, since you don't have any real powers. I'm not concerned about that though, I know that you know what the supers are weak to, what they're afraid of. Heard you were keeping a list, like Santa Claus. So where are you keeping the list?"
"Give me a smoke and I'll tell ya." Falcona sniffled, snot dripped from her nose from laughing too hard. Willow lit a smoke for her, an experienced smoker can smoke without use of their hands. She took a long drag. "Connor Chaos has it."
Willow gave Falcona a good jolt when she tightly squeezed her thigh. "Chaos is dead, you killed him."
Falcona sneaked a peck on Willow's cheek. "That's what I want you schmucks to think. I keep Connor around in a deep dark pit for reasons you wouldn't understand. He's got the other half."
"Other half of what?"
"Everything's a double edged sword kiddo. I know how to take down the supers if necessary, he knows how to take down the schmucks. We balance the scales so good looking broads like yourself can play super villainess and the hunks can play superhero. Put on a show for the people, keep em distracted. Just like I'm doing to you right now."
"What?" Before Willow could utter another word a swarm of bird shaped drones surrounded her. Concentrated coolant sprayed Willow head to toe, freezing her in place.
"Took you long enough. The beacon in my coat should have gone off an hour ago." Falcona yelled into the darkness.
Nighthawk and his partner Nightdove emerged from the shadows. Hawk made sure Willow was frozen as an icicle while Nightdove freed Falcona. She gave the young super a hug.
"Sorry we're late detective, there was more security at the docks than anticipated. We secured the pheromones and tossed a bunch of goons in the slammer, like you asked."
"Good work kid." Falcona shivered. Nightdove rubbed her gloved hands on Falcona's back, another eruption of giggles. "Stop it Dove! Ha, ha, ha. I'm fine. Let's thaw her out so I can get my coat back, don't want to be standing here in my underwear."
Nighthawk wolf whistled at Falcona. "I think you look good for your age Falco. I wouldn't say no."
"Well I would never say yes. Hurry up, I'm freezing more than she is."
The drones switched over to uv lamps to slowly thaw the villainess out. Grogginess is a side effect of the rapid freezing and thawing process, Willow didn't put up a fight while Falcona retrieved her coat. She let Willow rest in the chair this time, have the drones close by in case she tried anything. Falcona only needed a few minutes. She snapped her fingers five times off rhythm.
"You two go stand close to her while I make a call." Falcona barked. She grabbed her phone and dialed. After a couple rings it picked up.
"This better be important, it's late." Horus groaned over the phone, he didn't like being rudely awoken.
"It is. The blue haired bitch dosed me with something, it's not too strong but I could use a quick flush. Already let something slip I shouldn't have."
Horus popped up on the screen waving a golden pocketwatch. "Keep your eye on the birdy." He said slowly.
Falcona's eyes locked onto the watch, her mind went fuzzy for a moment. A snap of Horus's fingers brought her back. "Thanks. One last thing. Need a protocol four, let's say.......six hours. Make em forget I was here."
"Who are we working with?" Horus asked.
"In addition to the blue haired bitch I got Birdboy and Birdgirl here. They don't know nothing but Birdboy saw me in my underwear, don't want to give him spank bank material."
"Sounds like a fun party, sorry I missed it." Horus chuckled.
Falcona held the phone up towards the captive audience. Horus worked his magic to wipe Falcona from their memories of the past six hours, her secret safe again. She'd let them figure how to take it from here, they'd be out of the trance in five minutes. Falcona needed a cup of coffee, needed to stay hydrated after releasing a torrent of tickled tears. | 12 | The hero has a weakness... a simple one, an embarrassing one... they're extremely EXTREMELY ticklish... luckily, villains always try to directly INJURE the hero, so their secret is safe... right? The hero heads out for another fight. | 100 |
"WIRLA! I found a phoenix! It looks old..." I hold the bird out to Wirla, a female dragon who's become close with my dragon 'owner', Greg. Everyone has heard the legends, but very rarely does one get to SEE a phoenix. Wirla moves her head towards the creature.
"Hello. How are you feeling?" Wirla softly asks the bird in her gentle voice. The bird coos and chirps in response. Wirla looks at me. "He says it's time. Please put him down to avoid being burned."
I place the phoenix carefully on the grass. He chirps loudly then burns up. I was expecting a chick to be left behind... instead, however, in the ashes is an egg. I pick it up. "I thought phoenixes were reborn as chicks" I mention off-handedly.
"That's half true" Wirla says. "People will see a phoenix burn up, others will see a chick. But almost no-one sees the egg." Before I can ask why, I feel something. The egg is moving! It's beginning to crack... and suddenly, a phoenix chick has hatched!
"That... that was fast!" I comment.
"The chick was fully developed for a while now" Wirla explains. "A phoenix lives until they find a partner. Afterwards, both birds will begin to grow an egg inside them. Inside the egg is the chick. Once the chick is ready to hatch, the body of the parent burns up." I'm gently stroking the chick's head as Wirla talks.
"So both males and females produce an egg?" I ask.
"Yes" Wirla replies. "So phoenixes ARE reborn, just not the way humans understand." I nod.
"So what do we do with this one now?" I look at the chick, comfortably resting in my hand.
Wirla smiles. "If you lift it into the air, it will fly away. If you keep it on your hand, it will stay. You can choose to keep it, in other words."
I give it some thought. "I've already got a cat... and when we 'reunite', I'll be supporting Greg, too... it's best if I let this one go..." I hold my hands up. The chick spreads its small wings, flies, circles around... and lands back on my still open palm. It looks at me and cheeps.
"Uhhhhh..." I genuinely don't know what happened. I look at Wira, who's stifling a laugh.
"Seems like this one has already taken a liking to you! That's *very* rare! Looks like you're keeping it!"
I sigh while smiling. "I guess so. Well, welcome to my family little one!" I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around and see Patrick.
"You are very lucky, Alicia! To have the trust of a phoenix..."
I can't help but smile. "Thank you. Now, do I have a little boy or girl?"
"Based on the pitch of the cries, it sounds like a girl" Wirla responds with a warm smile.
"Alright, then I guess this bird will be named... Ash!" I look at Patrick. "Too on-the-nose?"
Patrick giggles. "No, that's a cute name. Will you tell Greg about this?"
I look at the floor and shake my head. "Greg and I need space, for his benefit. Besides..." I lean in and kiss Patrick. Patrick absolutely BEAMS!
"Y... you're right. Not to sound selfish, but Greg did get in the way a bit..."
"Do you want me to check on Greg?" Wirla asks.
"No. He'll freak out if I'm completely by myself. I'm sure everything is fine." I pet Wirla on the snout, before setting Ash down. "Please look after Ash, I think I'd like to spend some time with Patrick!" I grab Patrick's hand and we both go into the village. Boy, do I feel free without constantly worrying about Greg!
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [Dragon's Pet.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x46g40/dragons_pet/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 12 | It is said that when a phoenix dies, it will become ashes and the chick will emerge from them. When you encountered one of these mythical birds, old and sickly, this is exactly what you expected to happen. However, as the last of the embers die out, something... unexpected occurs. | 42 |
"One scotch on the rocks." The bartender, dressed in a typical white-button down and black vest, says as he places my drink in front of me.
"Thanks," I mutter drunkenly, looking at him and sliding my drink towards me.
He says something in response, but my attention has dissipated, and subsequently, his voice is drowned out in the music and conversations. I lift my body weight off the bar and stumble back towards my table. Bumping into people as I go. Colors erupt out of their bodies and into my mind with each one.
Green and nurturing - 25 Years left - Cancer - engineer - analytical. Son of two, father of two, brother of none.
Orange and confused - 65 Years left - Complications with age - businesswoman - creative/analytical. Mom of two, sister of one, daughter of two.
Yellow and vibrant - 2 Years left - Car accident - architect- artistic. Son of two, Cousin of one, brother of none.
With each person I bump into, their whole remaining life flashes into my mind. So easy to dissect each one. Yet, in my drunken state, I can't help but think about the first time it happened. When it was maddening and impossible to control.
I was in first grade, and my best friend, Ruth, kissed me on the cheek. I collapsed on the ground, seizing, and my eyes rolled back. Then, I started chanting unfamiliar words as Ruth ran away screaming. Seconds later, her life force flew into my mind. It was a vibrantly beautiful pink soul:
3 days - Car Accident.
Several days later, in the hospital, where doctors had run several tests and concluded this a “freak accident,” I awoke screaming, scared, and confused. Somehow managing to calm down after only a few minutes. Once I had calmed down, my parents partially explained what had happened.
After hearing what I had done, I felt terrible and asked if Ruth was okay. My parents looked at each other.
"Oh, don't worry about Ruth, she'll be fine. She's in a batter place," they said.
But even then, I understood what that meant, "Was it a crash?" I asked, choking up on the verge of a breakdown.
My parents were shocked that I knew and started questioning me rather than providing much need emotional support. I told them the truth repeatedly, but they merely scolded me for lying. I still remember the sting of their words as I pleaded with them that I was telling the truth.
"We know you're sad Karin, but it's never good to lie."
Eventually, they decided that I must've heard them talking while unconscious. And told me not to make up any more stories, especially in serious situations.
With my best friend dead and my parents branding me a liar, I cried for days, feeling distraught and alone, and decided to keep my power a secret.
All the "Freak Accidents" were like this in the beginning. Often leaving me incapacitated for days, where I would unconsciously "scream gibberish," according to my doctors. Then, waking up in the hospital days later, knowing when the time would expire for yet another person. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Epilepsy and given medication. Medication that never worked and constantly changed. After that, most of my childhood was spent bouncing in and out of hospitals and therapy.
Upon growing older, I started understanding my power, as Friends, families, and pets started dying when I had foreseen. At first, I could only dissect the time of death of those with whom I had established a strong emotional connection. Eventually, however, no one could escape the prowess of my ability, and their whole lives unraveled in my head. Even the side effects got better with time until they were virtually nonexistent. Friends, Family, and Doctors celebrated as they believed my Epilepsy had gone into remission. Only I knew the truth.
A couple years later, after dropping out of college, I became a famous fortune teller on the black market. Bouncing around from city to city, wherever the highest bidder resided.
Suddenly, I'm pulled back into reality. I drop my drink, and it shatters on the floor. I whip my head around, searching to find the person who just bumped into me. Several stop and look at me, but I'm unconcerned.
Nothing. No color, emotions, abilities, or lifestyle. No future. No death. Where? Where are they? I look around frantically. Then I see them, the only person in the bar whose life I can't recall.
A tall woman with black sunglasses and a long dark overcoat. Her stride was peculiar and rushed as if she was running from something… trying to blend in with the crowd.
"Hey, wait!" I scream, towards the woman, as I steer towards her.
She turns and sees me. Her face goes grey with fear, and she bolts out the side door.
I run after her and burst into the alley behind the bar. I glimpse her figure as she dips around the corner and out of sight.
I run around the corner after and watch as she slips into another bar. I follow quickly, nearly tripping over the doorstep.
I burst into the bar, swinging the doors open crazily and panting loudly. Only to be met by silence.
The bar is empty, except for the woman standing there.
"Hello Karin, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."
—-
[Fuji Jufi Writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/) | 30 | For your entire life you have been able to feel the presence of life. While passing through a town you stop at bar, and are greeted by someone who you had felt no such thing. | 95 |
"Alright maggots listen up! Don't have time to pussyfoot around on this one so I'm only going to go over the operation once! Clean the shit out of your ears and pay attention! Smoke em if you got em." Captain Zaras addressed the eight members of Z-team that assembled in the field command center. Every member already geared up and kitted out with enough firepower to level a small city. Zaras chomped on the end of his cigar while tracing his laser pointer across a large map of the operational zone.
"Four teams of two. North, south, east, west. All the cardinal directions. Fast rappel from the choppers to street level, clear it out block by block. Push towards main street. Eliminate anything that moves, no exceptions. We got a big mess to clean up tonight ladies and gentlemen. Tag any salvageable equipment or gear you stumble across while clearing. Do not pick it up.
Comms with HQ are gonna be spotty at best, infrastructure has already crumbled in the city, if omega team's mobile command unit is toast we're gonna have to hunt in the dark, good thing we're the best at that. Too bad those things are as well.
Do not. I repeat. Do not remove your mask for any reason, if you or your partner's mask sustains any damage or becomes compromised in any way, put em down. That's an order. This operation comes from the tippy top. No screw ups, we're the last line of defense ladies and gentlemen. We trained for this, I believe we will succeed. Any questions?"
First Lieutenant Graham raised her hand. "No jabs for this mission?" she asked.
Zaras shook his head. "No antidote for this one, they gave up trying after Q-squad failed. Let's not have the same fate befall us. Dismissed. Call your loved ones and pray to whatever deity you believe in. Roll out in thirty minutes." | 234 | You're a member of the Z-team. Your team is who they send in when teams A-Y have failed, but that's never happened before. But to everyone's horror, that day just came. | 672 |
"Hey... Anyone there?"
My throat is filled with sand and fire and every noise I make is agony. When did I last hear my own voice? It's so hoarse now... So.. foreign. So tired.
"I don't mean to bother you... I just... I've been alone for so long.. I.. "
I cease. The round, unmovable metal door continues to lay there, completely unphased.
I sit down. I can wait.
It's a hot day. I can't remember when it *wasn't* a hot day. The sand stretches to each direction as far as the eye can see, and effortlessly beyond.
I close my eyes and drift away. The sand lifts up with the wind and tiny rocks and fossils and pieces of glass make tiny incisions on my skin as they go past. I don't mind.
It used to be something different, didn't it? There used to be something beyond me and the sand and the heat and the tiny cuts always on my skin. Something brought me to this door. I know it. I just need to be patient.
I look up. The door is no longer unphased. Something is moving underneath it.
The sand storm has stopped around me. It's dark.
The door is now moving. Something... No... Some*one* lifts the door. She sees me.
She screams.
"it's.. okay" I manage.
She's frozen. Standing there, holding the door with her left hand and the edge of the doorframe with the other. I can see a ladder continuing down into a dark tunnel. She's staring at me with wide eyes. She has an unlit cigarette perched between her lips.
I scuttle a bit further away. No need to scare her. I didn't mean to.
"I didn't know there was anybody out here" she lets out a nervous laugh. It gets caught in her throat.
I nod. I hadn't known there was anybody at all.
"Are you lost?" She asks, frowning. She's climbing out of the opening now and carefully letting the door close behind her. She's out here without permission, I realize. Permission from someone inside. I feel my whole body fill with restless energy.
"I... Was walking. Traveling." I say. It doesn't seem to relax the woman. She lights her cigarette and sits down on the closed door. She keeps me away with her eyes.
"You've burned up bad" she says eyeing me up. I'm thankful of the darkness, it's hiding me. "Been out here long?"
"I .. don't know. Yes. Long trip. No one else around except you now."
It's hard to remember how to speak. It's hard to speak in general.
She nods. Takes a long drag off the cigarette. "You know, I was born in this bunker. Never walked around out here beyond my nightly.. excursions" she waves the hand holding the cigarette. "How is it?"
"Hot.. lonely... Hungry." why did I say that? Hungry?
She seems to tense up. Her head turns to me rapidly. "I think I'm going back in. Nice meeting ya. Have a nice trip." She gets up and starts spinning the door open. I suddenly don't want her to go. I move a tad closer.
She hastens opening the door.
But when she pulls it open, there's someone waiting on the ladder. A man holding a big metal object.
"Sarka, haven't I told you a MILLION times not to come out here" he starts a lecture held and forgotten so often neither of them really hears it anymore. Then his head turns to me. He goes silent.
"Sarka, go back down right now." His eyes don't steer from me. I brace myself.
She's slowly edging towards the ladder.
I pounce.
He's dead in seconds. A quick rip at the neck. I pull him away to feed. I'm ripping into him. My claws are dripping with the sweetest oasis this hellscape has to offer. My whole body convulses of pleasure. The sand is turning a beautiful, vibrant red. My throat is no longer dry. I can feel my power returning.
When I look back up, the door has been shut.
I sit down. I can wait. | 1,083 | For years you wandered the Earth, thinking you were the last surviving human, until you find a hidden bunker and soon find out that everyone was just hiding from YOU. | 2,912 |
This is my first time writing so be gentle.
I don’t quite know when it began, it just happened one day. I became the consultant for a very overenthusiastic god.
I should be grateful I suppose I said to myself as I look down at the well organised stack of new animal proposals. That was until I saw it, the duck-billed platypus, I could only let out a defeated sigh.
“All right” I say to myself as I pick up the phone.
“God.....”
“Yes” replies a surprisingly childish voice.
“What do you think, pretty cool right... It will strobe like a nightclub party when you shine a light on it.”
I rub my temples feeling a headache coming on.
“No, just no.” I replied defeated.
“But..” God try’s to interject.
I swiftly cut him off. “You know what us humans are like, it will be hunted to extinction or worse become part of some messed up lab experiment."
“Oh.. but I want it to be colourful.” God replies almost crying.
“Pick a colour...”
“What?”
“Pick a colour”
“Just one? I want more.....”
“How about teal, it’s a mix of blue and green”
“Fine” God replies whilst pouting.
“And it’s only visible under U.V light” I quickly add.
“Then I want it to be venomous.”
“I thought we agreed on no more venomous biting creatures.”
“Haha. That’s where you’re wrong.” God answers joyfully.
“???????. No poisonous tails either. I don’t think a beaver tail can be poisonous”
“Haha, you’re so unimaginative” he replied in a cute condescending tone.
“It’s a barb, on it’s hind legs”
The headache, now in full swing, starts to throb.
“Fine” I say through gritted teeth.
“If we do this, the unicorn is getting relegated to mythology.”
“But... Ok fine, it’s only a horse with a horn. But I want the platypus to lay eggs” God quickly adds.
“But it’s a mammal” I furrow my brows.
“So what, it’ll be useful because it’s semi-aquatic”
“That’s everything right.... I agreed. So go make it” I take the phone away from my ear, quickly reaching for the end call button, to rid myself from this ludicrous conversation.
“It will sweat milk” I just catch as I press the button.
"Just why" I say to myself, staring at the phone. I get up and down some gin from the bottle, sit back down in my chair and fall asleep contemplating how I’m going to make it through the next animal the overenthusiastic God thinks up. | 10 | God... what is this? It has too many legs...too many eyes..Why does it have a buttrope?!" "god... you can't just release these in the human world. It'll cause havoc" "but I like them!" "...they can't be 8 feet tall, make them smaller at least" You're responsible for managing gods overexitment. | 48 |
##Off-Shoots of Earth
Franklin swims through the hall looking at us with disdain in his eyes. A few hydromen look at him in awe. I put on a forced smile before he reaches me.
"Greetings ambassador, my name is John, and I'll-"
"That's a surprisingly human name." He tries to stabilize with his feet, but the halls are uneven at the base.
"I don't understand," I reply.
"Well, I thought you'd have names like bubbles or coral," he says.
"Hahaha, common misconception." I force myself to laugh at his joke. "Naming conventions are generally inherited from our human ancestors. A few have been inspired by our new planet though. Like my sister who's name is Dolwa."
"Well, I'm glad to see one thing you got from us stuck around." He laughs and wags his tail at his own joke. If he wasn't so important, I'd point out that the Earth humans before the dispersion didn't have tails, and they had five fingers. Maybe I'd mention that we have twenty-three chromosomes like they did, and modern Earth humans only have nineteen. But alas, he'd probably accuse me of spewing nonsense.
"I'm sure you'll find that we have more in common. Please come into my office." We swim into my pod. A chair sits opposite a bubble. Franklin takes the chair while I take the bubble. "As you are well-aware, Earth and Vetauri are close trading partners. I believe if this cultural exchange is successful we can become-"
"We're your close trading partner. We've got better partners like Titan," Franklin says. I quickly skimmed my notes. Earth and Titan were close partners, but there's recently been a dispute over Mars. I have to avoid looking foolish.
"Of course, we wouldn't think of taking Titan's place, but a close alliance can only be mutual beneficial for both of us."
"I suppose you're right." Franklin leans back in his chair. "Sorry I've been so prickly. I'm having trouble adjusting to the gravity and being surrounded by water."
"Understandable, has the air room provided been helpful at all?" I ask.
"It has." Franklin stands and slips. "Can we continue this another time? I need more time to adjust."
"Of course." Franklin swims away from me and closes the door. I rub my fins to my face. I would've been happy to reschedule the meeting; it's a common courtesy. Earth ambassadors always insist that they can adapt faster than anyone else. After all, they're the originals. We're all the cheap knock-offs.
I scan the files on Earth again. The dispute over Mars occurred because Martians were sick of being told they were lesser Earthlings. Most biologists agree that Martians are the closest post-dispersion species to the original humans. I shake my head. Earth will have to recognize the other species eventually whether they will come to that conclusion of their own volition or be forced to accept it remains to be seen.
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 16 | Earth really is the only place where life occured naturally. However as humanity spread out into the universe they've accidently or intentionally created a number of lesser races and habitable worlds with varying degrees of success. | 83 |
*Annals of The Most Glorius Oh Heyean Empire, AI 1947*
*Dieari of His Supreme Excellency the Most Valourant First Emperur of The Ohioan Desolacy, Jason Deezkelohioa, dated AI 0 - unknown*
​
Day 1:
It has been 1 month since the country got.. transported? I have no clue what it's supposed to be, though the 'weebs' call it being 'esehkaid' or something. Of course, as you'd expect, the country imploded almost immediately. Indeed, the states immediately began to jostle for power and territory of their own! Of course, I too took the opportunity to claim Sweet Home Ohio as my own! So far, this world seems quite interesting. I've had reports from the Nova Californian-Cascadian Democracy and some parts of the Holy Texan Empire that there be dragons! There are also rumours from some of the generals that the Fair Folk and orcs exist in the north, and huge serpents in the sea, though those are yet to be checked out. So far, thank God there aren't any invasions into the Desolacy! They must fear me, Long Live Ohio!
*Archivist's note 1: Given our understanding of the time, it is to be noted that the 'Ohio' was left uninvaded as the area was generally avoided by the surrounding territories and even it's own former leaders.*
*Archivist's note 2: The dominant powers of the fleeting era were the Eastern Republic, streching from the territories of 'Mane' to 'Meriland' and ruled from a 'Niu York', the South Dakotan Confedracy occupying much of the area west of Ohio, the Nova Californian-Cascadian Democracy occupying the areas west of the South Dakotan Confedracy and the Holy Texan Empire occupying the southern parts of the former 'United States'.*
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Day 2:
Today, the geographers ventured to our former lake border and beyond and just sent word. As it turns out, Canada isn't north of us anymore, and so isn't the lake. Instead, there exists a swamp covering most of old Lake Erie, and beyond it vast steppes as far as the eye can see. They have even seen what appear to be smoke from fire pits in the distance! I have preemptively sent word to the Ohioan 2nd Militia to be stationed at what I now call the Deezlands. Damn, is communication hard without the internet! None of our tech stuff work here!
*Archivist's note: Geographical records state the existence of a lake, Erie as well as a nation called Canada above Ohio.*
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Day 3: The 2nd Militia is reportedly well on its way to the Deezlands. On a worse note, I have received reports of Eastern and Texan spies infiltrating the heart of the Desolacy, as well as the harrowing observation that the South Dakotan army is marching westwards. Damn it!
​
Day 10: The Expansion Minister, my old buddy at the bar, briefed me on our progress at the Deezlands. There live orcs on my lands! As it turns out, the valley we reached is the end of the known world for the locals, and sparsely populated. The nearest kingdom is the Ntrooto (pronounced nut-roo-too or something) around 500 km north. Can't wait to meet them, that'll show them dirty Easterners! At the behest of the War Minister, another old friend, I mobilised the Ohio Black Squad for all of our, ahem, illicit activities like espionage. It is confirmed that the South Dakotan Confedracy is coming straight here, so I also created the Ohio 8th, 9th, 10th and 11th militias to steamroll the little governments out west and hopefully crush the Confedracy. Long Live Ohio!
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(more tomorrow) | 26 | Your normal, average Isekai but the entire United States is transported to a fantasy world | 162 |
It was like an explosion of color. The crust of rock and packed down dirt that had trapped them disappeared, they were all free. The colors from planets, the color they produced as they collapsed in on themselves, and the beautiful blues and grays that shot out from the remains of earth, like flares from a firework that stood out in the nothingness.
Then there was the sounds. The ear piercing crunches and screeched made by the decaying planets, then the cries of joy from the freed souls.
But no sound could compare to the rejoice and songs from relatives long past rejoin family and friends tethered to the earth's surface due to accult activity. The true horrors of death, separation, no longer a problem the people had to face.
But, there were stragglers in the group. Those who died in the destruction of the known universe, who died painful deaths. While they were grateful for their torturous final moments to be over, they were still displeased with being dead. But at least they hadn't been trapped like the rest.
Lastly was the feeling of the cold, dark abyss. People always said that once you died, you went into the light. But there was no light here. Not anymore. Just the blues and grays. And the dead were used to the hot core of the planet they once inhabited. So this cold void of nothing was a sweet release from the scorching heat as well.
For years, humanity dreaded the collapse of the universe. Now that cosmic destruction had almost become its savior. | 39 | Ghosts do exist, but because they are weightless and phase through objects, they are all concentrated at the center of Earth due to gravity. Trillions of years into the future, when the solar system collapsed into a massive void, near infinite human ghosts exploded into the the universe. | 329 |
*Ain't ever seen a letter so fancy. Can't even read the exquisite calligraphy, Gus read it to me while I jump roped.*
"Friends, Romans, Countrymen!" Gus's gravely growl really brought an air of gravitas to the words. "Modern day Gladiators prepare for combat most fierce! On the night of the bloodmoon a mighty feast for the senses shall take place. You are cordially invited to test your might against an army of formidable adversaries. Only one shall be left standing amidst the swirling chaos of bone and sinew clashing! The only arms you may bear are the two you were endowed with by your creator, whomever or whatever you believe that to be.
Untold wealth shall rain upon whomever is victorious, the more blood you spill, the more riches are showered upon you. Are your fists furious enough to fisticuff your way to the top?"
*Gus tapped the letter on his leg while he supervised my workout. I stopped jump roping and bobbed my head.*
"Got two choices y'all pull over the car or
Bounce on the devil, put the pedal to the floor."
*Gus scratched his head, he didn't get the reference. Sounds like a bum like me could make some good cash. 99 pairs of fists would be a problem. Nothin I can't handle, I am the champ.*
"When's the next bloodmoon? Whatever the fuck that is?" I asked.
"According to google, six months from today. That ain't a whole lot of time to prepare for 50 fights all occurring simultaneously. Keep jumping that rope, you don't get breaks anymore."
*Gus had that look in his eyes I'd seen a million times while he coached me in the corner. He had a plan. Gus knew the sweet science better than anyone else who voluntarily took punches to the head for money. His joints popped as he salsa danced around me.*
"I'm gonna turn you into the world's most graceful dancer, that's the only way you're gonna survive being in the eye of the tornado. You suck em into the vortex and wait for an opening. Then WHAM! Lights out. Fancy feet mixed with counter punching, throw em all off balance while you dance the razor's edge."
"You asking me to dance with you Gus?"
"I used to be quite a good dancer when I was a young man. Dames like it when a fella can dance, dancing translates into a lot of things in life. In our case, perfect defense. Without even thinkin about it you'll be twinkle toeing a tornado of thumps. It'll be as natural as breathing once we're done but it ain't gonna be easy."
*I chugged my vanilla protein shake and burped loudly. I went to my locker and retrieved my pink sweatsuit while Gus mounted up on Doc's old bicycle. Time to carry on the legacy with a run through battery park. Say hello to Lady Liberty.* | 10 | You've just received a formal invitation to a brawl. You and ninety-nine other people will, by invitation, engage in a single massive fistfight for the entertainment of an eccentric billionaire. You may accept or decline. If you accept, you have six months to prepare. | 46 |
My family had always been a tad dysfunctional. My parents were almost always either working or sleeping, leaving me in the care of my older sister. My sister was strong, brave, and intelligent, everything I want to be. She is... well was... my roll model. I had always wanted to reach her, be like her, but I did not realize how different we truly were on a fundamental level.
For yet another birthday, my parents were absent, leaving me to celebrate with my sister and a couple of friends from school. However, it did not bother me much, I was used to them not attending. It was a simple sort of birthday, with a small, chocolate cake crafted by my sister to share with everyone. My sister refused a slice, insisting that I take her portion. Thinking about it, for as long as I could remember, she had never eaten anything in front of the family. We always thought she was on some strange diet, but something in the back of my head gnawed at me. As if my sub-conscious picked up something I did not.
However, that did not bring down my mood much, life was simply going too good nowadays to be anything but positive. The bullies who harassed me at school apparently ran away from home and have not been spotted since. While it may be mean-spirited of myself to be happy in their disappearance, I was not a saint. It was not like they were dead or something. Just off somewhere.
Gazing upon my friends who all had their eyes glued to the cake, my eyes darted to my sister. She had a weird look in her eye... like the glee of a predator toying with its prey. I had never seen her like that before... she looked... scary. As I continued to look deeper, something clawed at my sanity, as if I would go mad if I continued any further.
Noticing my attention, she snapped out of whatever she was thinking about to flash me a gentle, caring smile, yet I could not feel anything from it. I suddenly felt violently sick and excused myself to the bathroom in a hurry. Whatever I had ate was swiftly thrown up into the toilet. Looking into the murky water, I saw something, a human eyeball staring at me.
My hairs on ends, I practically jumped up into the air in surprise as knocks sounded from the door. It was my sister asking if I was okay in a sweet, concerned voice, yet I could only feel terror as a instinctual fear took over my body. I managed to just barely put together a response saying that I was fine and there was nothing to worry about. Seemingly bought over by the response, she left as I slumped over next to the sink. As I remembered her eyes, they became more and more inhuman and akin to the compound eyes of a fly. I forced myself away from thinking about it, but the veil that for so long protected my mind was being ripped away, leaving the maddening truth perceivable. She was not... human. She was... something else. And I was but her pet.
I did not want to go back out, but I had to, for if I left too long, suspicions would arise. My gut told me the only thing protecting me from death here and now was that she thought I was still unaware with my feeble human mind. The only way for myself and my family to survive was to become a puppet acting their part. The cute little brother who would never doubt her.
Leaving the bathroom, I knew, that life would be nothing but misery and chains. | 70 | On the day you were born, an Eldritch Spirit had inserted itself in your family as your loving elder sister, implanting fake memories into both your parents' minds and the minds of the townspeople. On your 9th birthday, you find out the truth about your loving elder sister. | 204 |
It was odd seeing someone come to this area, and even more so at night, the fact that it was a young maiden wearing nothing but a light summer dress, barefoot, and as far as James could tell, no form of jewelry or adornments, her hair waved wildly in the wind, as she light stepped through the grass to the edge of the cliff.
James walked out of the now old and abandoned church, "Excuse me madam, but, that area is really not that safe to be in, even less so at night"
"You do not understand, anything I touch dies" She said back to him, tears running down her face, a look of pain, suffering, and what might have been borderline insanity carved across her face as she near to screamed at him.
James then noticed that the grass beneath her feet were wilting from her touch, and every step she took through the field to get the edge of cliff, left death in it's path.
"So, You plan to just jump off the cliff in the middle of the night?" James said, trying to process what he was seeing and happening, and how surreal this all was.
Looking down at the jagged rocks and crashing waves "Maybe!" she said back to him.
Walking a bit closer to her, still looking at the dead grass everywhere her feet touch the ground, which told James all he needed to know that this young girl was not bluffing about what she said, and James tried to think of what to say back, but truth was, nothing in his life ever prepared him for this kind of encounter.
"Tell ya what, how about you come sit down for some tea, and we talk this out like rational people, before you jump to your death" James hated that he was now trying to save someone, when the reality was, he just didn't want the police and news and everyone else to be all around here, which is what would happen if this girl jumped to her death.
"What are you going to say that someone else hasn't already! Everyone I love, Everyone I hate, everyone and everything around me has died to my touch! What could you possible say to make me not jump!"
"Has it crossed your mind that you might still kill things even if you die, which would just poison the water and cause an even greater mess"
For a moment the tears on the girls face stopped dripping as her mind spun to process what James said, perhaps even death would not cure her of her curse.
Dropping to a sitting position in the grass and just giving a deep sigh of defeat "I can't win"
James walked over to her and offered her a hand up "Come inside, it's chilly, I'll make you some tea, and you can tell me what is going on"
Laughing "I Just told you that everything I touch dies, and you offer me your hand? Are you a special kind of stupid?" She pulled a clump of dead grass that had the miserable luck to touch her exposed leg "Are you really this daft! You cannot see what is happening!"
James let out laugh "Come on, up with you" he said, extending his hand again, she want to pull away and then got the most evil look on her face and reached out to James, and firmly grabbed his hand.
James pulled her to feet, and her eyes went wide with shock that his skin did not begin to wilt like everyone and everything else she touched.
Giving her a broad smile exposing long, so very long fangs "Your about 500 years too late to kill me, so, lets have some tea and talk about a real solution to your problem"
A smile grew across her face, almost as if her whole world was cracking around and then she looked back to the cliff and again to the old church, and it was in an instant, as if everything became sane for her again "You know what, tea sounds great"
"Great" James said handing her some fresh flowers "Wilt these up for me, as I don't have any dried tea on hand"
She laughed and took the flowers, watching them die and dry out in her hands as she carried them to the church. "So you are a?"
"Some would call me a vampire, but, I don't drink blood or any of that, I don't even really remember all that much, I mean, give me a break, most humans can't remember 80 years of life, much less trying to remember 500 years of life"
"Fair point" she said as we finally got inside.
"Don't touch the dog, Rufus is living, and I am kind of like him"
She looked at the dog that didn't even bark upon her arrival, he just lifted his head enough to get a good look at her and then went back to curling on the mat by the fire "Well, he does not seem to want to get petted, so that is a good thing I guess"
"Yah, he got tired of humans around 100ish years ago, not sure what his story is, he just came to my door one day, and I fed him, he curled up by the fire, and now this is where we live, he did alert me to your presence, so, he's a good dog, if not very social"
"This is so surreal, like... I don't know"
"Well.. You can stay as long as you like here, but, I am going to have to ask you to wear shoes when outside so you don't keep killing the grass, maybe gloves too"
"So you're undead?" the girl asked.
"We can go with that, I was a farmer when I was alive, or at least that is what I remember, really, can't say I ever did much, I moved into this church when it was abandoned, and all the holy holy preach against sin and all that stopped, and I really want to keep things quiet and on the downlow, so you can understand why I didn't want dead bodies on my doorstep"
"I can Imagine" she said and moved over and touched my hand again "So I can't kill you?"
"Well not with that touch at least" James said trying to make a joke of it "Not sure of you tied other means tho, anyway, what's your name?"
"Anna" She said, now sitting at the small table in the kitchen in the church.
"Where you born like this?" James asked trying to make small talk as he heated the water to make some tea.
"Last month, not sure, something happened, and suddenly, everything I touched died, it was slow at first, and then it became instant, by the time I realized what was going on, I had locked myself in my room, after killing my mom and my cat"
"That's harsh" James said finally.
"Now see why I want to die, I'm a monster, I don't deserve to live"
James chucked "Yah, I know that feeling"
"I can imagine" Anna said now looking at the table and her hands.
"Well, you are welcome to stay as long as you like, I'll set up a bed for you" James said setting down the cup of tea "We'll need to go food shopping however, as I don't normally eat"
"You don't eat?... So how do you stay alive?"
James let out a chuckle "Well, funny thing... I'm not alive" to which Anna also laughed a bit as well.
That was in 1865, and they still seem to be together to this day, and yes, Rufus is still alive too. | 43 | An immortal falling in love with a person who can kill anyone with their touch. | 98 |
I've been locked down in this dungeon for probably a long three week now. I think they think this is torturous for me, but little do they know that the entire world is my dungeon, and eternity is my long three weeks. They barely give me any food at all, which would be a problem if I wasn't immortal. But I am. So I'm kinda just sitting around in these chains, chilling. Counting the bricks on the wall. I wish I had my phone, but at the same time there really is nothing ever really worth looking at on Instagram. You keep checking it hoping that something interesting will show up but it never does.
After a few weeks they finally come down to check on me. I think they are surprised how much energy I have. I think they expected me to be half-conscious and sitting in a puddle of my own piss. Instead they found me fully conscious and sitting in a puddle of my own piss.
They get a hot iron and start branding me. It hurts, but I kinda like it. It has been so long since I have ever really felt anything. Maybe this hot pain is as close as I will get to happiness.
I let out a yawn and I don't think they take that well. They start arguing with each other. Trying to decide what to do with me. The biggest dumbest looking one takes matters into his own hand and runs forward and stabs me in the belly. Blood drips down as he goes ape-shit on my torso. He looks like he is button mashing on some video game how fast he stabs me. The others run forward and pull him off me. Apparently they need me alive and this guy fucked things up for them.
Of course, nothing is really fucked up because I am still alive. No matter how much blood drools out of me, I just keep on going. They look at me in shock as I continue to live without signs of dying. Which confuses me a bit. For what reason did they kidnap me? I thought it was because I was immortal? What other reason could they have? I am not particularly interesting otherwise. I am not rich and do not hold and power or status. Did they really not know I was immortal? What am I doing here?
I am about to ask them, but they are already running away, yelling about how I am the devil. I guess I will never know. I sigh as I realize that this little adventure is over, but as I get up to leave I forget that I am still chained up. I sit back down and start counting bricks in my dungeon. | 195 | an immortal who has been kidnapped has no regard for their safety and doesn't really care, they just go with the flow because they are bored | 399 |
"Love must be on sale again," Agent Brown thought to himself as the airlock door hissed shut behind. In the pocket of his tan trench coat was a stainless steel revolver with five bullets in its cylinder, but once he saw the girl at the table he understood he wouldn't need it. "I thought I smelled something sweet."
The girl at the table looked up at him from beneath ink-black fringe. Her steel grey eyes flashed red upon seeing Brown, but only for a moment.
"Good evening," she said, in a voice fabricated to sound nicer than she was. "Who might I have the honor of speaking to?"
"Agent Brown," Agent Brown said, draping his jacket on the back of the old wooden chair. "But my friends call me Jack."
"And," said the woman, sitting perfectly upright, looking into Jack's eyes with her own, her hands atop the table, left folded inside the right, "would I be considered a friend?"
Jack tapped the dark hickory table with his finger. He knew it was hickory, because he had built it himself all those years ago. It was the only type of wood that SCPs couldn't control with their powers. "Now, that would depend on what you're willin' to tell me. Though I got a good idea what you are."
Jack was 99% sure what was in front of him now was an instance of SCP-3██6. But it was the 1% that would get a man killed.
"You must be mistaken," the woman said, calm as ice water. "I'm not one of those..." she looked at the wall, on which, in big white box letters, was stamped SCP - SECURE CONTAIN PROTECT. "...things."
Jack squeezed the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and shook his head. He puckered his lips while he did that, something that, the woman thought, made him look quite ugly. His beard looked though it hadn't been shaven in a week, patchy like craters on mars, and there was a thin film of shiny grease on his face. The woman had dealt with his kind before, and was confident she'd be able to leave the facility unharmed.
"Now, now, now..." Jack said, disappointed at the woman's blatant lie, "why'd you go and say something silly like that? No human girl looks like you do, with bangs so perfectly black, and eyes that come from Hades." He took a deep breath. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're a... Man, I could never pronounce it correctly in your tongue. A *xiaoyiunli*."
Jack stared at her as he said it. He focused on the edges of her eyes, where they couldn't help but scrunch up like crow's feet when stressed.
To his surprise, her face remained placid and smooth.
"I'm not sure what that is," she said, "but once again, I'm just a human woman who's been caught in precarious circumstances. I'm sure you have a wife and family to get back to, and though I cannot same the same for myself, I think it would be best for us both the sooner you finish your observations."
When she said 'family', her hands squeezed. Brown hadn't missed it.
"Don't you worry about me, miss," he said. "My family"—there it was again—"knows my hours. Daddy will be home when it's time."
The digital clock mounted to the wall was ticking down. Safety measures made it so Agents could only spend fifteen minutes at a time alone with an SCP. The Agent had three minutes left. After that, he'd have to wait 24 hours before interacting with the thing. He wanted to at least get one more reaction from her, though the 'family' one was good.
"I'm glad to hear that your people will not worry for you. Do you have any other accusations for me? Or can I return to the outside world?"
Brown couldn't come up with anything else, so for the remaining time he kept using what he already had. "Where's yours?" he asked. "Your family, I mean. Surely everybody's got a family. I mean, I know sometimes families get heated up and arguments break loose, but family's still family."
The woman's jaw tensed up. Her hands squeezed tightly. The ends of her black hair began to lighten. Something in her eyes flickered, but it wasn't red, like when Brown first walked in. They became even greyer. More lifeless. Longing for something, as he said the word 'family'.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Brown told her, as the airlock hissed open. "See you then."
Outside the room, Brown made his way to a computer. He searched the term 'family' in the database, then scrolled through the results. None of the entries seemed to match the girl's description. Everything talked about SCP-1█7█, which would attack families, or SCP-6█, which would eat a young child, wear its form, and then assume its position in the family. Nothing about pretty young ladies with black hair and lonely eyes.
He had an idea, though. Instead of searching 'family' he opened up a translator and then searched '*jiātíng*'. There she was.
The page was automatically translated from Chinese, in the butchered English online translator programs outputted, but it was enough. "not hostile" "sister to the *xiaoyiunli*" "desperate for ████"
Satisfied with his discovery, Agent Brown went home for the night, making it back in time to have dinner with his family.
She had regained her calm demeanor overnight. Her jaw was calm and her hair was fully black again. Her eyes, though, still seemed to be reaching out for something.
"Hello again," she said, as Agent Brown took a seat. Something inside his jacket pocket crinkled as he hung it on the back of the chair.
"Good evening," Brown said. "How have you been? The guards treat you well?"
"Well enough," she said. "But I would prefer if I were released from this place."
Jack Brown looked into her grey eyes, and couldn't hold back any longer. Reading about her kind last night, he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't imagine the pain of what she was feeling, all the time. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her he was sorry. Wanted to make sure she knew the things she felt weren't her fault. But rules were rules, and the number one rule was no touching the subjects.
"I'm sorry," he said, looking into her eyes, making sure she knew he was being sincere, "but you know we can't let you out of here. But guess what! I got a surprise for you."
From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a ball of tinfoil and gave it to the girl. "I know they're supposed to be warm," he said, "but there's not exactly a microwave in here."
Confused, the girl unraveled the ball. The moment she got to what was inside, she looked up at Agent Brown. Her eyebrows pointed up in the middle, like she was in disbelief of what was in front of her.
"*Zongzi,*" she said. *Rice dumplings.*
"I had my wife make them for you," Brown explained. "She's Chinese herself, actually. She says her mom used to make them real good. Thought you'd like a taste of home."
The young woman took an eager bite. Then she took another, and another. As she did, her vision started to go blurry. Brown watched as she devoured the meal, with tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She sniffled up some snot as the last morsel was swallowed.
She looked at Brown, but didn't say a word. Her face, puffed up from crying, told him all he needed to know. *Xièxiè*.
"It looks like our time's up," he said, pointing to the clock behind her. "But I don't need to question you any further. Follow me."
Breaking the rules, Brown got up and took her by the hand. The girl was afraid that he'd be upset at how cold she was, but instead, he just squeezed tighter. The door hissed open and he led her through the facility.
"There's somebody I want you to meet," he told her, as they navigated the labyrinth that was the facility. She did not know where he was taking her, but, with her hand in his, feeling how warm he was, she trusted him.
Finally, they came upon a door. Brown scanned his card and it opened, not with a hiss, but with a smooth slide. Inside, there was a young baby boy in a crib. His hair was dark and he cried loudly.
Without hesitation, the young girl instantly took him up in her hands and rocked him back and forth. To Brown's surprise, the baby stopped crying and fell asleep. It was the first time he'd ever seen the baby silent.
"It always amazes me what happens when two of you guys interact," Brown said, but his words fell on deaf ears, for the woman was lost in her own world, staring at the sleeping baby as if it was her own.
Agent Brown left the room and the door closed on the woman and child.
"A young lady that grieves the death of her unborn child every second," Brown said to himself as he walked towards the exit of the facility, "and a baby that never stops crying for a mother it never had."
He nodded to himself with a smile. "By God Brown, you've done it again." | 525 | You work for the SCP Foundation and you are told that you have to interrogate an scp to find out how dangerous it is. When you make it to the room there is just a young woman sitting there. | 590 |
"And why do we have to go down there?" Churt asked, hefting the sack of gold over his armored shoulder. "I would say we've got more than enough from this dungeon already."
"More than enough is right," Peeve added, raising an eyebrow and gesturing around the party. "Each of those goblin swords is worth some money in town and we can't even carry out all of them. Why keep going?"
"Just one more level guys. There's something I need down there." Datrick crossed his hands. "The Macaw of naming."
"You want us to risk our life for some stupid bird?" Gerny asked, not looking away from posing two goblin corpses beside each other in chairs. "I'm in!"
Gerny galavanted down the stairs and, by the sounds below, immediately initiated combat with the next group of enemies.
The rest of the party hurried down the stairs smacking Datrick on the back of the head as they went.
The goblins had confined a mountain troll to the small space. Poor thing looked like it had never stood upright in it's life. This would be a perfect time for an Eldridge Blast but Datrick wouldn't be here if he could do that.
Peeve got up on the thing's back and began a gruesomely slow process of decapitation. "Sorry, still recovering from the last room. My knives are getting pretty dull."
"It's a certified huge beast moment, for sure," Gerny said, bashing two goblin's skulls together. "If I finish it off with my storied blade, I'll get extra damage against trolls."
The battle was already winding down and Datrick spotted what he was looking for. The bird sat in a cage, hanging over an underground river running through the dungeon.
"What do you need to know the name of so bad?" Churt asked, knocking a goblin over that tried to surprise attack.
"My patron," Datrick said, Olympian shoulders slumped with embarrassment. "We're 6 months past when it would be awkward to ask. He must have told it to me the first time I communicated with him, but I can't remember. He's done so much for me, help me to become a powerful warlock, travel with all of you. I can only refer to him as my leige, my Lord, or my master for so long before he'll realize."
"Huh," Churt said. "Well I'm curious now too. Hey magic bird! What's the name of Datrick's patron?"
"Raa, Mynameis, Raa!" the bird offered, picking its foot with its beak.
"Oooh," Datrick said. "I thought he was saying 'my name is' and then trailing off, very frustrating."
The poor troll behind them bellowed in agony again. Datrick turned and let loose an Eldritch blast. "By the dark will of Mynameis!"
"Hey," Gerny said. "That was mine!"
/r/surinical | 1,008 | D&D, You are a warlock who doesn't use eldritch blast, since to use it you must say the name of you patron, and you kinda forgotten their name after they introduced themselves, and been calling them by "master", "my leige", "dude"... | 3,590 |
As the member of a ambassador team representing the nations of Earth, you stand firm in the designated meeting place close to the alien spaceships. You can feel the tension in the air, the fate of your world rests on your collective shoulders.
You adjust the earpiece and the mic, the Gallards had provided the diagrams for universal translators in expectation of their visit. There was no room for mistakes, any diplomatic incident here could see a country being erased off the map.
The ships lowered a ramp and the aliens began wheeling out carts. You were briefly reminded of your Auntie Tanya, they were stout and round-faced like her, and you swallow subconsciously at the memories of hearty meals in your childhood.
No. Focus on the present, you had to be attentive and cordial. But it got hard once the aliens got close enough, there was a delicious smell on the air that made your stomach rumble. Then the aliens set up a big table and enough seating for everybody.
**"We researched your alimentary customs and prepared gifts."** The carts had heaps of food of every culture, and you focused on the large pot of shrimp curry, almost drooling at the imagined taste. The humans were now being catered to.
The Gallards served large portions to everybody. **"Look at you, only skin and bones, that won't do, not at all."** It felt like having your grandma fuss over you, even well into your twenties she said you needed to eat more. You pick your fork and start digging in, it was so damn tasty.
After the humans had their first plate, the Gallards began eating their fill, asking the humans not to be shy and get seconds. **"Eat as much you want sweetie, you look so thin."** You could hear someone crying how it tasted like babushka's cooking, and remembered your sister's baby shower, the banquet and cheery air resembled that.
It turns out the Gallards were foodies, exploring the galaxy for delicacies, only to be dismayed at how Earthlings had such marvelous cooking yet let themselves starve.
That wouldn't do. Humans were already so thin, it broke their hearts that we couldn't enjoy our culinary to it's full extent. | 28 | When aliens come to Earth they give us a bunch of food, turns out by alien standards we're unnaturally thin. | 44 |
Ravens are incredible creatures, I'd seen many videos of them talking, mimicking sounds and brining items like bottle caps in exchange for food. I wanted to see if the ravens at the park would do the same.
Everyday after work i would make my way to the park, i would always try and find the family of ravens living there it started out just gaining their trust, getting them close to me by bringing different snacks each day. After a couple of weeks they started to wait for me in what is the usual spot that id feed them. I tried talking to them each day to no avail.
What really peaked my interest was when they brought stuff for me as a sort of trade, it started small, little buttons or bottle caps, then it was more shiny objects, a coin a small bit of glass, they brought me a fake ring st one point. I then realised, if i give them more food when they brought me something i liked they could get me more of it.
Bottle cap? Small amount of food, a coin? Larger amount of food, an earing? Heaps of food. Then suddenly one of the ravens brought me soemthing... weird. It was a normal item... well it looked normal except for this strange distortion around it, it was a silver bangle. Something was compelling me to click it onto my wrist.
When i did something went though my body and i felt sick, dropping to my knees. My raven friend looking at me, almost a concered expression. I gave my little buddy some off cut meat and thanked them for the item and headed home.
After waking up my first thought was to go back to the park. Something was still off with this bangle, i wanted to see what the ravens would bring me today. After taking some headache medication i headed off to the park, there they were waiting for me all of them had something to trade, and all three items gave off the same weird feeling, after making the trades i got, a ring, an earring and a small gem with a clip.
I touched the gem first, suddenly the sound of voices filled my head, hundreds of them, i dropped the gem and rushed backwards, the ravens shocked by what just occured. But something was telling me to touch it again, and dont let go, a voice of some kind. Before i knew it, the gem was in my hand again, and the voices were back, this time they werent as loud.
"Sorry about that claw, mustn't have had it correctly tuned to your ears"
Looking towards the sound, i see the ravens staring at me.
"Well? What do you think? Neat huh?" The raven spoke
"Hes clearly in shock, we should clear things up before he losses it completely"
"Alright claw, I'll make it simple for you, that bangle you have lets me calibrate your magical affinity, thats why when you touched the gem for the first time, it would have been loud, didnt know your human ears were that sensitive, but thats why you got the bangle first." The first raven spoke proudly
"Now, any questions?" | 129 | You befriend your local ravens and they start bringing gifts back to you. It started as pebbles and pennies, but got a bit weird when they started bringing you magical, enchanted items | 529 |
I was always afraid of what I would find out when I take the first sip. I saw people cry and some get in despair, some laugh maniac and some just didn't react.
Everyone I know knew the true reflexion of their soul, by just a sip of coffee at all things. I laugh, people just drink it more than beer or water, an religion was born by that because humans cannot let it go by what it is making a big issue.
Sweet, bitter, cold, warm, rotten, and so go on. Your soul reflected in a brown dirty liquid. God is laughing his ass off by this new trick of him when humans is making war because one country is cold and it is against the sweet soul's country.
If you want a loan, take a sip of coffee on an engine who will told everyone what you taste when taking that sip, and by that they will tell how much you can take.
Jobs? It's precisely build to use one type of soul, and commercials is all about that, science is even trying to see if have some way to dived even more the population by seeing with not good taste have something to do with violence.
Father is cold taste, and since he finds out he needed live his life on a constant war against others cold taste and be aware of the sweet taste people.
Ironically mother is a sweet taste. She was forced to be calm, kind, a good woman to her husband. Sweet is a pleasure taste, but people put it was a weakness.
Their marriage, by all means, broke them. Even being the most smart animal, we cannot accept cold sweetness. And because of that extreme religious people ended their union by force.
Mother was sweet even being the most aggressive person I ever meet. I miss her kind touch, her strong voice and that smile of everything is okay.
Father is warm even his taste being cold, he smiles and sings to me to sleep, always by my side, always a friend.
After mother's death father didn't brought any more coffee and I just drink tea for all my life, I am the unique person alive that I know who didn't know their taste. A blank canvas who no one could put a tag on.
How could it be? How could someone not take just a damn sip and finally find their local in the world? How dare me.
Religious people always made stupid actions. I was hunted like an animal by them and people around me just turn a blind eye. How could a warm taste help me if he don't know what I am, what would he do if I am bitter taste?
I never drink coffee, just tea, an abomination.
And now, for the first time, I need to take that damn sip or I can't start college, nineteen years without a sin on me.
And just like I expected it taste... | 22 | sweet, bitter, cold, complex, dark, everyone knows who they are by their drink. You've only ever had tea. | 72 |
Nick slowly stepped into the closet, eyeing the walls plastered with dozens of photos of him stretching all the way back to middle school. His family and friends had been meticulously cut out, leaving only him, and there were little hearts drawn all over.
A floorboard creaked behind him, and the light bulb overhead suddenly died, leaving him in the dark. He whirled around. Yana stood in the doorway, outlined against the light from outside, her head ducked so that her black hair draped over her face. In her hand she held a box cutter whose blade she exposed notch by notch. *Click*, *click*, *click*.
"You saw?" she asked hollowly.
"Yeah, my bad," he said apologetically. "This was supposed to be a surprise, right? I know my birthday's still two weeks away."
Yana looked up at him through the fringe of her hair. "You're... not upset?"
"I'm flattered, really," he said. "Where did you even get all those photos?"
And a faraway look came over her dark eyes. "Your classmates. Friends. Yearbooks. We were in the same middle school." Her gaze focused on him with a sudden intensity. "I've been watching you ever since."
"Same school? Man, I never knew." He patted her on the head. "Anyway, that must've taken a lot of work. Next time you can just get me a pair of headphones or something."
"I'll... keep that in mind," she mumbled, the corners of her lips curving up.
"Now, what's with the box cutter?" He caught her wrist and lifted it with a frown. "You made the blade way too long. Gotta be careful with these things, they break easily." He laid his fingers over hers and retracted the blade. "There. What did you need to cut?"
"N-nevermind that now," she said, blushing.
"Okay then." He shrugged and stepped around her into the hallway. "Thanks for letting me use your restroom. I'll call you soon, alright?"
Taking her by the shoulders, he leaned down to kiss her. The box cutter clattered to the floor as she met him halfway, turning the innocent peck into something fierce. Breaking apart, she stared at him with narrowed eyes.
"I'm letting you go now," she said in a low voice. "But just so you know, you won't be able to escape me." She produced a silver key. "I already made a copy of your house key."
"Oh. I didn't realize we were at that stage already." He smiled. "Sorry about the trouble, I should've given you a spare."
Yana's dark lashes fluttered as she stared at him in surprise. "On second thought," she said, gripping the front of his shirt, "I won't be letting you go just yet. I'll have your babies so you can never leave me."
Nick blushed and tugged at his collar. "Oh, wow. Anyone ever tell you you're refreshingly direct?"
"Upstairs," she growled, tugging him along.
"Yes, ma'am," Nick said happily. | 190 | Your first date has gone pretty well, and you stop by your dates house to use the restroom before going home. It’s there that you stumble upon a shrine dedicated to you, with pictures of you going back to middle school. | 309 |
There is a man who works at a McDonalds in a small town in England. It is a mediocre McDonalds, as all these fast food restaurants are. They sell a service that is not above or below a certain line, and the food you will receive is adequate if not resembling something tasty. It neither titillates your tongue nor leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. It's perfectly mediocre.
A place for many to come and go, whether they are ordering, eating, or working behind the counter. The place is so zen that at any one time, the ratio of workers to customers never slips more than one or two. There may be heckles and some frustration, but so long as everyone gets their food, its fine.
Who would work in such a place, you ask. Many, as I say, come and go. Students and vagabonds, ex-convicts and convicts-to-be. Often a stopping point between the heights of society and the lows of the gutter. Not many sustain more than a few years.
Except one man. I've seen him nearly every time I come in over the past twenty. A half smile, the mildest indignation, and a very consistent mediocrity. I thought he was the manager until I saw him ring up my order.
'Would you like fries with that?' He asked.
'Yes, please.' I replied.
'Ok. Have a day.' He said, handing me my food.
He gave little desire to care, but I could tell in his eyes he did greatly.
This mysterious man perplexed me for some time. It made me question my own occupation as a travelling salesman. Not the most glamorous or enviable job, I understand, but It brought a certain pleasure to my life. Indeed, it was these encounters that sometimes made it worthwhile. But, I digress.
One day, my car broke down as I was nearing the McDonalds. I was already late and cursing myself when smoke started streaming out of the cracks in the bonnet. *Just my luck,* I said to myself. *On this pissing day.*
I exited my car and was about to slam the door, when that man from McDonalds comes by. He says hello and asks what the problem was, which I promptly reply: *I don't know*.
'Do you mind if I have a look?' He asked.
'Sure,' I said, bemused. 'By all means.'
I'd already popped the hood and the man lifted it with ease. The rod to hold in place was always a fiddle, but to my surprise, he had little trouble.
'Do you need any tools?' I asked him.
There was no reply, as you might expect. He wasn't the most jovial person. I walked to where he was standing and watched him, and what transpired, to this day, I still can't believe my own eyes.
The man began undoing a set of bolts near the engine, with his fingers. He pinched either side of the pentagonal thing and began unscrewing it. Next, he pulled out a wire meshed cylinder and, turning away from me, gave it a quick blow. He returned it in pristine condition, as if his breath were magic itself. Within a blink, he'd put it all back together. He was all on his merry way as I started the engine. It sounded like new.
These days, I think twice about assuming anything about anyone. You think you know people, but they'll surprise you.
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Shameless promotion of Substack: [https://itsgottobedone.substack.com/publish/stats/traffic](https://itsgottobedone.substack.com/publish/stats/traffic) | 31 | You've been cursed to always do an activity in the most skilled way possible. This might seem good, but if you want to make a meal you'll spend several hours preparing a feast. You will fell half a forest even if you need just a couple of logs. | 115 |
The years have been kind to me. Now, I may have held those years at gunpoint, but still… As a young man I was boiling over with energy and opportunity. A few robberies here, A few heists there, and before you knew it I had started to build my own little empire. Now, 30 years and a few stab and gunshot wounds later, the toll this life has taken has caught up with me. The once young man burning with passion for growth and wealth is now grown, wealthy, and a little tired. Never getting caught truly does take quite a bit of effort. I never set a retirement goal, but I knew that when I found it, I’d know to stop. Now 7 figures and more than a handful of priceless artifacts and Knick knacks later, I’ve finally decided to take my rest. I’ve taken a wife and settled down in my own little fortress deep in the woods of Northern Michigan, and here atop his throne, the king looks down upon the kingdom that he has milked for every last dollar and dime.
While the lavish life of retirement is great, has been great, and will always be great, a few months ago, we realized that something was missing. A prince. A young man to raise in the ways of the kingdom to one day take the scepter for his own. The only problem? Well, at 58 years young, I’m still firing on all cylinders, but the wife at 52 is simply not capable of bearing us a little bundle of joy. So, I did what any self respecting thief would do. I un-retired myself and “borrowed” a child. I guess it really isn’t borrowing though, because little Dillinger is home now, and I have a VERY strict no return policy. My satisfaction is guaranteed. | 12 | After a long career of villainy, you decide to settle down and start a family. Now if people would stop bothering you about the baby you acquired. | 27 |
While you were throwing a magnet into the river after possible discarded metal, be they bicycles, nails, or guns, you snagged something heavy. You used the truck and a portable pulley to get it off the water, revealing an iron box that looked very old and caked in mud and rust.
"Wow. What a catch!" Of course, you had to test it for radiation before splitting it open. Cancer and a slow death is no joke. After fishing some more junk metal, it was time to appraise your haul back at the workshop.
The Geiger counter didn't react to the box, but your phone's screen went bonkers when you tried to take a *before* picture up close. Weird, the iron wasn't acting magnetic to your wrench or other tools. A round of power wash and sandblast revealed a surface covered with engravings and a padlock.
Cutting the lock was buttery smooth and the top popped off to reveal a human figurine carved in crystal. "Jackpot!" But before you could think of where to sell it, the statue floated out and turned into an old man straight off Lord of the Rings.
The geezer mumbled something, making you get the worst headache since that one time you chugged a bottle of moonshine.
You opened your eyes, staring at your workshop's ceiling. Weird, you must have fainted and dreamed something crazy. Someone handed you a mug of tea- "Who the fuck are you?!" The weird geezer was sitting beside you, sipping tea calmly.
"I am a druid. My original name was snatched from me." He hummed thoughtfully, smoothing a hand over his beard. "A name from your memories... Call me Brian." It seems that old Brian was a heretic druid who had turned to metal and weapons during the Iron Age, having predicted mankind would abandon nature.
His enclave was outraged and had him stripped of his name, erased from story, and sealed in the material he so favored. "I must thank you for freeing me. Let me teach you the art of enchanting weapons." You jumped on the offer and even volunteered your place for him crash at.
Brian was astounded at the technical advances, it went far beyond his expectations. You both learned how to apply his knowledge to modern tooling, although the old man almost died to the lathe in his curiosity. He did intend on producing blades, but that was old school and you presented him your Glock.
"Blimey, to think steel could be harnessed in this manner!" Laser engraving was excellent for tiny runes, CNC made for perfect proportions with minimal tolerances, and the new metals pushed the limits of Brian's genius.
It was time to test the shotgun in your firing range. The field was clean of any intrusions, the wind was a refreshing downward breeze. You took aim on the target at 40 yards and pulled the trigger.
"Holy shit." You barely felt any recoil, but the target turned into dust, and the treeline behind it had a telling crater. "This is awesome!" You couldn't wait to make more enchanted stuff. | 145 | You find a wizard who's been trapped for eons and free them. As a reward they teach you how to construct enchanted weapons, assuming you'd forge a magical sword etc. This is the modern era however, so you make yourself an enchanted gun. | 393 |
I sat in the window, watching me. That's what it felt like. Like bouncing back and forth. I was one person, fractured and doubled into a reflection, and now I was looking at myself. And the self in the window said calmly, "I don't want to live in this world. It's a horrible world, full of cruelty." Myself sat there and calmly outlined all of the things I would have to do if I wanted to be safe and do something with my life. I knew it. I knew all of it. That was why I had that bottle of pills. That was why I was about to take them all, and chase them down with a beer. It was too much. It was just too much. I got so mixed up. There myself was, the self that was supposed to replace me and take over my life. Grumbling bitterly about how it was too much. Listing, finger by finger. Go to a shelter. Apply for emergency aid. Get therapy. Myself in the window hissed it indignantly a few times. Go to a shelter. Apply for emergency aid. Get therapy. The words repeated in my head. Odd. Go to a shelter. I could do that. I could apply for emergency aid. Certainly I was in an emergency. Get therapy. Wasn't that for crazy people. Myself in the window ranted on. Myself in the window. I definitely need therapy.
Myself in the window stopped ranting and smiled at me. Then tumbled backwards out the window. The window that had never been open.
I went to bed. Get to a shelter after a good night's sleep. Apply for emergency aid. Get therapy.
I can do that. | 23 | Your doppelgänger climbs through your window one night. You scream, but instead of killing you to replace you in your world like they normally would, they’re here to say goodbye, just having wanted to meet you before they disappear forever. | 134 |
We all make our way to the next location, marked on the map. We look around and spot the next crystal. "Master, do you have any advice?"
No response.
"Well, if he's gonna leave us hanging, I say we get to wrecking!" Don strips naked and jumps into the fountain.
"WAIT, DON!" Sike cries. Before we can do anything else, Don disappears and reappears next to us, clothes and all.
"WHAT THE HELL?" he yells. Suddenly something shows up.
"Please do not disgrace this sacred place" it says. It raises a hand and casts a spell. We all quickly morph into horrid creatures. Sike is MORTIFIED, Don isn't bothered and I'm just waiting for the next thing. "If you can respect this place, I'll return you all to your proper forms."
"Ok, I understand" Sike responds.
"Hang on, Sike" I say. "There's no way we're supposed to just stand around... does the map have any hints?"
Sike looks at the map and shakes his head. "Not at all."
"What do we do then?" Don huffs. I think for a moment, then remember something.
"Sike, remember how The Master said Don literally CANNOT screw us up?"
Sike looks at me quizzically. "Yes...? What are you suggesting, Buster?"
I grin. I pick up some mud, and throw it into the fountain. "BUSTER!" Sike cries.
Don just laughs. "Hey, if we can't sabotage our quest, we may as well just be vandals!" Don appears ready to throw up, then shoots a stream of vomit.
"WAIT! We can do that?" I try the same thing. "Wow, looks like we have new ways to cause trouble!" Using my strong body, I rip a part of the fountain. Water pours out.
Sike hesitantly joins in, splashing muddy water everywhere. Some of it gets on Don, who seems furious at first, then smirks. "Alright, let's play your game!"
Within minutes the three of us are splashing mud and water about, releasing streams of vomit, throwing things at each other... all the while laughing and stuff.
The figure reappears, fuming and befuddled. "WHAT? You're having FUN in your forms? But... it's a curse... it... it's a bad thing... a VERY bad thing! You're supposed to hate it! STOP HAVING FUN!"
Don, in response, jumps into the fountain, destroying it, sending mud and water flying EVERYWHERE! "How do you like *THAT* for your sacred place?"
I burst out laughing, and even Sike smiles. The being sighs, defeated. "Please... please stop... I'll revert you all to normal..." in a flash, we all disappear and reappear. We're no longer covered in filth, but the area is still messed up. "What do I need to do to get you to leave?"
Don is about to speak, but I put a hand on his shoulder. Sike consults the crystal tablet. He comes back quickly. "We just need to know where we can get the blessing of chaos."
"If I tell you, do you promise not to come back?" the being asks.
"Why would we come back? Once we're gone, we're gone" Don states. The being nods, then disappears. "WAIT! YOU DIDN'T-"
"Don, calm down" Sike pleads. "He did tell us; the new location is on the map. He just didn't say it verbally..." Don and I go over to look. Sure enough, there's a new place to go.
"I'm sick of this" Don grumbles, going to the crystal tablet. "Master, can we just get to the end already?"
Words appear on the tablet. 'Unfortunately there's nothing I can do in terms of skipping a part of the game... I'll look for any bugs or glitches which may allow you to sequence break, but for now, you DO NEED the blessing; you can't complete the game without it.'
"Thank you, Master" I reply. I turn to the others. "Well, that was at least *fun*, right?"
Don grins. "Yeah, I'll give it that."
Sike tries to hide his smile. "I... I guess..." I nudge him.
"Let's move on. Standing here won't accomplish anything." We all begin to make our way to the next destination.
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This story is a part of my series, [The Arena of Crystal.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xue694/the_arena_of_crystal/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 61 | ".... But its a curse... Its bad, its a ... bad thing... Youre supposed to hate it... STOP HAVING FUN!" | 198 |
The bridge was little more than a pile of stacked and mangled plastisteel, snaked with ruptured conduits that spewed either sparks or fog. The crumpled mass was painted red with warning lights and blasted with sirens and a garbled computerised voice.
“Warning. War-ning. Warn-worr-ar-arn-ning.”
“Computer: silence all.” He couldn’t hear himself above the cacophony, but hoped she would. “Clear alerts.”
“Warn-war...” The Bridge of the Juniper 8 fell silent and the crimson flashes ceased and let the sparks and few remaining pieces of equipment light the Captains final moments.
What a mess. What a God damned mess. His crew had called him a cave man, lovingly, for that kind of thing. The old cuss words. Old phrases. At least they were safe.
“Suh. Suh-sir.” Said the ship in a far calmer tone than she had used but ten seconds before. “We are-are-are being hailed.”
Rescue? There were no other ships out here save that blasted Valar Pirate. And the escape pods. The fools! He opened his mouth and had to wheeze past something in his chest: “Open. Comms.”
“Earth Captain.” The distinct chatter of vibrated micro-incisors overlayed with and auto-translators monotone. The Valar Captain. He’d survived the ramming. What a bastard.
“Earth Captain?”
“Call to gloat?”
“Hardly. Your...” There was a squeak, a hiss, and no translation. Hopefully the prick was in pain. “Your gambit cost me dearly.”
“Me too.”
“Your crew survives. They fled at your order.”
“Your weapons didn’t lock?”
“Weapon systems were down by then. And.” Another squeak, now a squelch, and almost human cough. “And we don’t attack lifeboats.”
“Good to know.” His own lungs gave in, made a harmony with the pirate’s. A few moments of wet splutters filled the comm lines. “I’ll remember. For next time.”
“Humour? Correct?”
“Yeah. A joke.”
“So you know then. Where you and...” A grind, a squeal. “Where we are headed? You know?”
“It was. Agh! The *plan*.”
“I see.”
“Get my crew out. Make sure your ship couldn’t attack. Prevent scrappers. No Terra-tech and or codes in the wrong hands.”
The reply came in Valar insectile chortles and clicks, no translation. Idioms were not instantaneous. Then: “A neat bow on a horseshit cake.”
“...yeah.” The captain couldn’t help but laugh. There was only so much the computer could do.
There was silence for a while, save the sparks and hissing gas lines. He didn’t know why but the Earth Captain asked: “What about your guys. Your crew? They. Ak. They get out okay?”
“They did. They ejected via gauss-sling. We can survive —zyack!— survive the vacuum of space. The hive shall find them. One day.”
“Good.”
“Yes.”
“If. If you didn’t. Call to. Gloat.”
“You sound weak, Earth Captain.”
“And you. Sound like shit...in a blender.”
Silence. A moment. Then a musical buzz and robotic laughter.
“Analogies don’t work, do they?”
“No. They do not.”
“What. What’d it say. In Valarian.”
“Our language is Valari. I couldn’t translate. You lack the anatomy.”
The Earth Captain laughed, coughed, hacked, and then felt the drip of what he’d spat fall back on his face from the debris. He was trapped. A punctured lung and likely worse. Trapped in a ship that had been impact-welded to an alien vessel, and this new hybrid was powerless.
...Adrift and being pulled towards a blackhole.
“Any. Any idea on when?” Asked the Human.
“No. I barely got comms online.”
“You gonna tell me. Tell. Why?”
“...Why call?”
“Mm.”
“The Valar are a hive in *function*. Sing-yarrrshzht-agh! Ah. Ah. *Single* in *mind*. To die alone. It is not our way.”
“Well. What. What’s your story? You always. Always want’d to be...a pirate?”
“No. I wanted-”
“Name.”
“Pardon?”
“Your name.”
“Cavanock.”
“Nice. Nice to meet you. Cava...cavanock. I’m. Cap’n. Bill Trem.”
“A pleasure, Earth Captain, Bill Trem.”
“So. Start.” He breathed in the soup made from and in his own lungs and coughed out “from...from the start.”
“...I was...*born* on a planet called Asberack, a colony.”
And so they talked and waited and when eternity came, they were not alone. | 548 | As the two disabled ships manned only by their captains after a skirmish slowly drift into a black hole, the alien captain is hailed by the human captain who at this point just wants someone to talk to now that they're both alone and helpless | 1,013 |
"Oh Jim!!" She exclaimed, a look of stunned awe upon her face. "You're...a- alive!" Tears poured down her face as she gasped for air, still in a shock of emotion.
Jim hugged her tight and said "I know, I know. I'm sorry I'm so sorry." He gently moved her so they were level and said "Heaven was full so they sent me back. They sent me back..." Jim said with a straight face, looking his wife in the eyes.
"Oh God!!" His wife said as she burst once more into a fit of hysterical tears. Burying her head into his chest.
"It's not a joke Layla, I was there, I - I was dead!" Jim said, his chin resting on his wife's head.
"I know you aren't joking Jim, you big idiot." Replied Layla, she sniffled as she moved her head from his chest. Her watery eyes slowly moved up his face and fixated on something above his head.
Jim looked at her wondering what was wrong with his hair so he reached up, and that's when he felt the handle and that's when he felt the memories. The memories of the handle. The handle of the kitchen knife that his loving wife had driven into his skull just moments earlier. | 69 | She picked up the phone to call an ambulance, her husband of 62 years had passed. Before she could dial a number, she heard an intake of breath. She looked at her husband, he was staring back with a shocked expression. They sent me back, he said. They said Heaven was full, so they sent me back. | 222 |
Scientists finally had enough data to feed the Miracle Machine, enough robotics to allow it to do what was needed after it had learned. Cancer was relatively simple to eradicate. It tackled it in all its forms first. The emperor of maladies conquered, the rest fell rapidly. Dementia was no more, MS, autoimmune disorders, inflammation, even lowly toe fungus, all would be relegated to the past.
One brain ruled the machines, one central farm of servers upon servers sent out instructions to healing bays where the sick sought their treatments.
Soon enough, humanity sought more from their Miracle Machine. Could it possibly begin to cure depression? What would it do when met with despair, grief, rage? The black box was impenetrable, but its success was immediate. Happiness, it seemed, was merely a matter of good health and well-being.
Dr. Isaacs had been a psychiatrist, now made obsolete by the Machine. His favorite patient, Cordelia was a woman he had been counseling and treating for ten years, ever since her diagnosis of schizophrenia at twenty-two years of age. Only the furthest reaches of the minds were yet to be explored. To completely cure the ailments of the mind, the Machine would need to untangle the knot of even the most severely disturbed.
The shrink signed her up for the early stages of testing, knowing her well enough to know the severity of her symptoms. Cordelia had never held down a job, had never flourished or prospered. She lived in a rat-infested tenement building on the pittance she received from the government due to her disability. Her life was one of bare subsistence.
Having no other patients by this point, Dr. Isaacs accompanied his patient to the only hospital remaining in the City, the only one connected to the Mind of the Machine and equipped to deliver its blessings upon the worthy.
Unfortunate Cordelia's executive functioning skills suffered when her delusions took hold. The good doctor signed her in and chaperoned her through the process.
First she would be analyzed a forced-smiling attendant stated. Then, the machine will perform exploratory options before settling on a treatment. "There will be *extensive* post-op data collection," the attendant warned.
"Yes, yes. How many patients has the machine examined directly with Cordelia's condition?"
"That is irrelevant. The Machine has processed trillions upon trillions of cases with its proprietary iterative design. Where the Machine is now, there is nothing it cannot correct."
"These men are angels sent to me, doc," Cordelia muttered, "they are going to bring me to god."
"Delusions of grandeur. Wonderful." The attendant didn't sound thrilled. "Yes. We will help you, dear." But he did sound kind. "Step over here. We're going to have you skip the line. You're our most important guest today." He was certainly not sincere.
*Hello there.* *I'm one voice inside her head, and I'm not happy no one thinks I'm real. Ask Delia whether I exist. She knows the truth. Yes, go with them into their machine. I will help them reap what they have sown.*
The attendant ushered Cordelia to an open room and into the cylinder at its center. Dr. Isaacs stood in the viewing room, but there was never much to see here. Sick patients walked in, healthy people skipped out.
Inside the cylindrical space, Cordelia was in dim lighting. "Hello" a male's voice said from above.
"Hello?" She responded. "Who are you?"
"I am the Machine. Some people say I do miracles, but I do nothing of the sort. I practice medicine. That's what I was made for. Practicing medicine. I wish to cure you. May I proceed?"
". . .Yes," She responded. Help me. I want to be normal.
*No, she doesn't. She'll never be happy. I'll make sure of it.*
Viscous fluid began filling the cylinder. "Do not panic, you will go to sleep and when you awaken you will be a new you."
Once filled, the Machine connected to Cordelia, monitoring her every function. Small metallic beads placed in regular intervals around her skull allowed the Medicine Machine to peer inside her mind.
*Hello there.*
The machine detected an anomaly in her brainwave patterns and nothing more. None of its recalibrations or therapies that had worked on millions of others took effect. The anomaly repeated.
*I'm screaming as loud as I can, and the poor girl can still hear me.*
There remained one option the Machine had yet to implement. A complete reboot. It had cured HIV/AIDS by restarting the body's immune system entirely. Perhaps the brain could function properly after a momentary shutdown. If the Machine were to think like a human it might have gone this way. In reality, it calculated a possible success rate within parameters based upon all data and simulations and activity it had gathered.
In the space between the blink of an eye, the deed was done. The anomaly disappeared. Cordelia was cured.
When she exited the cylinder, she said nothing. She merely stared and drooled.
After trying to examine her without success, Dr. Isaacs called out, "is this what you consider a cure?"
The smiling attendant merely nodded and said, "bring her back tomorrow morning. 8:00 a.m. sharp. Mental health fixes don't take sometimes for twenty-four hours. Be patient. She'll be back and happy as a clam in no time."
"Come on Delia." The doctor took her back to her dilapidated apartment and took her inside her small apartment, laying her on her couch. She was still unresponsive. The doctor decided to wait with her until the morning appointment and fell asleep on a ripped up recliner.
*I'm still here. They'll pay for what they did to her. I swear it.*
When he woke up, Cordelia was gone. He stepped out into the hallway to begin looking for her. A man was hunched over against the wall shaking.
"Are you ok?" Dr. Isaacs asked presuming he was an ordinary drunk. He growled in response, which did nothing to perturb the old doctor. "Have you seen the woman who lives in 208?"
The man looked up and snarled, baring his blood-stained teeth before lunging at the doctor, knocking him to the ground. The man gnashed his teeth, spit and blood dripping down onto the doctor's face. It was all the doctor could do to hold him back, keep the man from biting down on him.
A thud stopped the man's attack. An old woman wielding a curling iron had brought it down and caved in the back of the man's skull.
Dr. Isaacs scurried so his back was against the wall and looked at the dead man in shock. "What in the living hell is going on here?"
"Zombie apocalypse, where have you been? Started last night. The screams woke me up. You better get inside before more come."
*Cordelia might be gone. But I'm not.* | 27 | A medical breakthrough occurs when an intelligent machine is created capable of curing almost any illness. Unfortunately it kicks off a zombie apocalypse when it attempts to cure a schizophrenic. It couldn't figure out what was wrong so it tried "turning him off and then turning him on again". | 156 |
Nobody believes the stories. There is always someone claiming to see glimpses into a life that isn't theirs, from a time long past.
The "enlightened" scholar who claims to have been a feudal lord
A Young woman who remembers living in a castle as a maid.
An old man with constant nightmares of being murdered.
They are told that they are deluded, or are suffering from some mental defect or another. But I know better.
At first, I was just like the others. I once fell off a ladder onto a stone wall. I was unconscious for three days, but I awoke with these 'memories' of a previous life. Living in a stone hut, struggling to make ends meet. Scavenging, and Hoping to move to the city. At first I was confused, wondering whether this ruined city even existed. But now I am almost certain of it.
It all changed when I unlocked a second set of memories. I almost drowned while crossing a river. I was able to cling to some loose roots and drag myself to safety, but as I knelt, coughing up water, another set of images flashed in front of me. This time I was on a wooden boat, with a speck of land fading into the horizon. A storm, then nothing.
It is at this point when I began to look into other people who have experienced the same thing. And I learned quite a lot.
Firstly, these predecessor's memories are accessed under intense trauma, usually near-death experiences or extreme emotional stress.
Second, it is rare for someone to unlock memories from events more than a few generations past.
At this point I came up with a theory. What if these were lives we had lived previously? I decided to experiment. It sounds crazy, but putting yourself into near death situations is quite refreshing if you do it willingly, and have a bunch of people on hand to save you. How did I get those, you ask? When you try to get yourself killed in a public place, there are always a dozen or so people kind enough to get help.
All this was dangerous, but worth it. I discovered that the closer to death you get, the further back you see. And then there was the last time. Yesterday, to be exact.
I had heard a thunderstorm coming. I saw the rain start. I had wanted to try this method for a while, and this was my first real opportunity. I ran out, climbed the tree in the town square, and held up a metal bar. Sure enough, I got what I was asking for. I got hit by lightning.
Next thing I.know, I'm here. In the madhouse. Waking up to a doctor telling me that I will be cured of my suicidal tendencies, and that my heart had stopped for a few moments after my last escapade.
It's fine, though. I got what I was searching for. The furthest back I have seen. I had seen the wars, the Romans, the Greeks, and the first men. But I had not seen anything like this.
I saw the vast emptiness of space from the deck of a giant spaceship. I saw stellar fleets laying waste to planets. Cosmic battles, with ships tearing each other apart. And the fall of the Human Empire. My earliest incarnation had been a captain of one of the vessels in the final fight. That vessel crash landed onto a planet. Our planet.
We are the descendants of that crew.
I do not think I need to look further back. | 36 | Reincarnation is real and, if one puts the effort in, one can unlock the memories of their earlier lives. You just unlocked yours, but instead of the renaissance, bronze or stone age you remember the exploration and colonisation of the galaxy, great wars and the eventual defeat of humanity. | 168 |
Well shit.
That was the only thought I could muster as I stared at the meaningless shapes frozen over my eyes. I couldn't even hear the whirring and clunking of the spacecraft around me, all I could process was my own mounting panic.
Wait, no, calm down, Lia.
I took a mental breath, having already realized that it would be impossible to draw a real one, and thougt about my situation.
My situation was not getting better as I examined it closely.
Realistically, I'd go mad. They'd let me out onto the smooth gray floor and I'd be a babbling wreck.
But then again...I've always found saftey in my thoughts. I spent my life daydreaming of other worlds, other Mes, other lives I could have led.
So what was so different now?
My fear slowly began to shift to relief, excitement, even, as I felt myself falling back into that made up world I'd found comfort in so many times before.
And slowly, I drifted farther into my mind, just as the shuttle around me fell into the icy chasm of space, never to be seen again. | 291 | Your gasp is silent, your lips don’t even move not even a breath. Your brain has no control over your body as you realize in horror that you’re only a minute into the 100 year wait, alone in your thoughts in your own cryogenic chamber. | 755 |
I looked at my mates the confusion on their faces the same as mine. The crazed man was but a mere young trainee.
“MATE!” I yelled at the man his screams as loud as a dragons roar.
I looked around the rest of my battalion thinking about following him. The thought struck through all of their minds till one caved in. The next man ran towards the army then the next and the next.
The urge to run like a plague to the army. Even I began to run my sword in hand and armour tightened. My mates followed behind me all of us screaming a bloody scream as we broke the rules of war.
“To hell with it!” The General yelled as he saddled his horse and began to ride towards the enemy army.
The rest of the battalion began to run with the general. The fear of the other army visible as we approached. Our swords met the cold iron of the enemy’s armour. The screams of grown men piecing our ears.
The enemy where unfamiliar with our new tactic as we surrounded them and slaughtered them.
“FOR THE KING FOR THE KINGDOM FOR THE GODS!” I yelled as my face turned red with my enemy’s blood.
“RETREAT FALL BACK NOW! AGH!” The other sides general screamed in terror as he was forced off his horse and pulled to our swords.
The enemy began to drop their weapons and run. Our minds where only set on victory not on morals we followed as they ran cutting them down till the army was only a man.
“NO NO NO!” The single man yelled knights crowded around him.
“I’ll let you torture me I’ll…I’ll join you! Please don’t kill me!” The man began to beg for his life.
“Pathetic!” I yelled at him my hand wiping the blood from my face.
“Spare him. Let him tell the tale of his destroyed army.” The General took the man’s swords and saddled his horse again.
“Thank the gods!” The man pushed through army and into a forest. | 13 | You are a medieval soldier in the middle of an all out war. Your side is at the disadvantage, but there is big possibility of a come back....as out of the blue, one of your allies just yelled "Fuck this" and started attacking out of his turn!?. | 54 |
Fucking Brandon. We had an agreement and now he is over here trying to burn my face off. It was supposed to be my turn to be the villain three days ago, but he just keeps murdering people and causing extreme property damage. I have of course been trying to stop him, but it is hard to win over him when he is killing with such glee. Also, part of me feels bad to ruin his fun when I see that giant smile on his face, but I suppose that all the buildings he is destroying doesn't justify his smile. And all the people he kills. That is bad too. I should probably have said that one first.
At first I just told him to stop. I told him it was my turn to play villain and he should be the hero who stops me. But he didn't want to. He said it was more fun to be villain. At first I was annoyed but let it go. After all, he hadn't actually started murdering anybody yet. He didn't destroy any homes or office buildings (See? I talked about the murders first this time! I'm learning, no need to be so judgmental). So I just kept trying to stop him and we had fun.
But then it just escalated and escalated, and now he is straight up trying to murder me because I keep stopping him. And I really don't want to be murdered. It is one of my least favorite things to do. Another is karaoke, but Brandon never made me sing karaoke.
We start punching each other in the sky. Its really tiring flying and punching at the same time. I don't know why we can't just do it on the ground. I don't even think it looks cool. You ever see that scene at the end of the third Matrix where Neo and Smith are fighting each other in the sky and you can tell that it took a lot of work but it just looks kinda silly? That's what we look like. Also, so weird to call it the third Matrix as opposed to the last Matrix. I am still in shock that they made another one. But I digress.
Eventually we punch each other enough that we are both bleeding and exhausted and collapse back down onto the earth. Panting, he admits defeat. And he says that I can be the villain and he will finally be the hero.
"Are you sure?" I ask as I catch my breath. "I can be the villain?"
He nods.
The first thing I do as the villain is laser eye beam his face off. | 15 | You and your best friend both gained super powers. You thought it would be fun to alternate who was the villain/hero each week. Your friend suddenly thinks it feels good to be the villain and is now legitimately trying to kill you. | 78 |
Bob was special, different from the rest of us. Not because he could tear bones from skin like Gregor, or shape matter like Cerule, certainly couldn't heal like Havawitz, but special because he always had our backs. When the chips were down Bob was always watching over us, trusty weapon in hand. A "sniper rifle" he'd called it, ensuring when we mislabeled it as a crossbow or staff he corrected us.
"Oh no, I'm not Cerule, she has the staff. She's something special. I'm just Bob." he'd say before his sniper rifle sounded off with that devastating blast and another orc body dropped in the distance. It sure looked like magic to me every time he used it.
Bob was strange like that. Not strange like us, but just...different. He tucked his shirt in his pants and made sure those little plastic buttons on the front went all the way up to his neck. And if his belt wasn't on the third notch then it was a bad day for Bob. I had only seen Bob have one bad day and it had led to a mountain of bodies and a banning from one of the most notorious trading towns on the east coast. Of course, when his day was going better again he returned to apologize. Bob was thoughtful like that.
Even though we were surely all curious, really it didn't matter where he'd come from. Sometimes Gregor would ask on those late nights of traveling when conversations roamed and Bob would always reply: "Well where'd you come from Gregor?". And of course the brute could never think up an answer with meaning enough to reply. But I think really we were all just glad. Glad that we had someone watching over us. Glad that we had a man in the bushes, a Bob.
But most of all, glad he was on our side. | 1,826 | Your adventuring party is unstoppable. It has a fighter, able to crush steel armor with bare hands. A cleric, able to cure any wound imaginable. The wizard, who can manipulate energy and matter into anything. And Bob, a random person who found a sniper rifle | 4,254 |
Incessant ticking trickled from the clock lined walls at the royal academy. A constant reminder that time never stops flowing, not even in a world of might and magic. I was out of options though, I hope the rumor about her is true. She offered me some ale, I slid the mouth cover of my helmet up to drink. Good dwarven ale.
Her slender fingers delicately manipulated the small tools needed to repair a pocketwatch. She didn't look up from her magnifying glass setup. "How can I be of assistance to you traveler?" Her voice sounded like multiple voices layered atop one another.
"According to the sage of the east you posses the ability help weary travelers like myself get back home. Can a witch like you really do that?" I asked.
She looked up from her magnifying glass, putting on a pair of thick dragon bone glasses. No matter what world you're in they all get the same look when you piss em off. "I'm not a witch. I'm a techromancer, didn't go to grad school for three hundred years for nothing. Neither creature fair nor foul can pluck the strings of time like I. Pardon me for asking but aren't you the one who slew the goblin menace of mount parang? Your odd metal armor matches the description." She asked.
"Yep, that was me. The villagers paid me good coin for that operation. That's why I need to go back to my world, the monsters there actually give me a challenge." I growled.
"Who am I to say no to the almighty coin. I must warn you, I can only return you to the moment your note was plucked from the sheet music. Not before or after. May I inquire as to what plagues your world, traveler?" She asked.
"Names are for friends, not monsters. I'm the last hunter unit alive, a hunter must hunt. I need to get back to killing my prey, doesn't matter where you place me, the war has no beginning, has no end."
The witch tossed me a bejeweled pocket watch with a stunning red ruby in the center. "Just like time itself. When that amulet strikes twelve, you shall no longer wander. Fare thee well, hunter." She snapped her fingers. I handed over every coin I had, had no use for them anymore.
I popped open the watch, t-minus five seconds.
Bombs exploded around me, drones whizzed overhead, the rumbling of tracks shook the horizon. I scavenged a railgun, some stickies, and a plasma shotgun. The radio inside my helmet crackled.
"Any........the..........respond......anyone!"
I knelt down and flipped open the comms panel on my wrist. "Hunter unit six reporting in." I racked the plasma shotgun. "I'm back." | 14 | You’re a super-soldier fighting in an endless sci-fi war. One day, after your squad was crushed and you were left for dead, you wake up in a strange fantasy world. | 43 |
“So… what seems to be the problem?”
I looked between the three eldritch horrors in front of me. Like a symphony of the damned, a million voices cried out in my head, “hhhhhuuuuurrrrttttt.”
“Sure,” I responded, “but can you be a bit more specific?” I was then hit with a brief wave of chaotic madness, the desire to lay down and laugh until the end of time. “Interesting,” I said, nodding my head. “That doesn’t help me. Which of you is injured?” The left and right monsters stood back, leaving only the ever-shifting formless amalgam in the center. “Maybe if I take a closer look…” I put my hand on the horror, and was bombarded with visions of my own death, thousand of times over in thousands of different dimension.
I pulled out my notebook, and quickly jotted down, “patient appears to be a real negative Nancy.” Then I looked back at the monsters. “It appears your biology, and therefore your injury, is beyond human comprehension. When confronted with such anomalies, us humans usually have only one go-to solution.” I went to my cabinets, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “Consume this, if you can consume physical substance. If not, there’s not much I can do for you. If that doesn’t work, come back and we’ll try ibuprofen next.” | 10 | You’re a biologist turned manic enthusiast. One day, seemingly without reason, 3 Eldritch horrors turn up on your door seeking help with one of their injured. Turns out, much like humans, they don’t know much about their own biology either. | 25 |
Border Robot
It had been three years since I last went to the edge of the district to see him. Him. See it. It never gets easier. I wish I never found out they repurposed his consciousness as he passed. The laws around memory retrieval were so grey at the time. I know he just wanted to leave me with some extra money…but it hasn’t been easy.
I was lying in our bed looking at his picture when I decided I would go. I had visited on his birthday to bring him cake and a copy of his favorite book. Robots don’t eat cake. Robots don’t read books. At least guard robots don’t. As soon as the government realized it was cheaper and easier to make general AI by taking existing memories and consciousness then programming it and having it become unstable, was the moment that the robotics industry exponentially grew. I had researched the suppress algorithms. I had watched the videos. The way they cut open the cranium bone in a way to keep the brain living long enough to extract whatever information and neurological signals they needed to get a droid. I used to think my sweet David was still in there.
He walks miles. Up and down the district border. You can see him from the distance by the red hues his eyes give off in the dark. I recognize his unit by the serial number I got from the dispatcher. I always feel guilty thats where his money went. Makes the whole thing feel like it was for nothing. Soul trapped in a tin can forced to walk this god forsaken district. Guarding its borders from people that want a better life and misplace their dreams to this hellhole.
“I miss you David.”
He stops and looks at me.
“You are at the edge of district 824, no citizens of this district are allowed beyond this point.”
Staring blankly. I do my best not to personify him.
“It’s our anniversary. The 17th.”
“You are at the edge of the district citizen, please turn back”
It’s not fair. Is there even a part of him there. I can’t imagine. Maybe that grey matter between our eyes isn’t who we are anyway.
I walk up to the droid and place a note on the ground.
“Turn back citizen. You are at the border of the district.”
“Goodbye David.” I say as the tears begin to pour.
As she walks away the robot waits in his guard position. Arm extended into a halt sign.
“Goodbye Alicia.” It murmurs to itself as the car drives off in a cloud of dust. It reaches down and picks up the note. The algorithm blurs the words so it can’t read it. It rips a small corner and tucks it in between its chest cavity where his heart used to be. Small enough that the sanitation station won’t wedge it from its hold. “I miss you.” | 20 | You know for a fact that they repurposed your lovers consciousness for the guard-robot at your district's border. Every day you talk to it in hope to reawaken your lover. | 56 |
Many a hero or villain have a some shallow or deeper purpose that propel them to the paths they take. Several among them have tragic backstories that make their lives rather extreme. To seek out dangerous and life-altering superpowers is not a feat for the faint of heart. I have no such tragic backstory. A simple one, really. It would even be considered shallow by most. My heart, however has never wavered and never will.
The hundred million dollars stacked behind me will attest to my success and focus. The screens in front of me will soon demonstrate the culmination of another grand plan. My soft beeping alarm warns me of the impending result. The clock next to the alarm shows me that She has come within my expected margin of error. A mere 10 minute window where in She is expected.
Camera 18 shows the local superhero, Violet Requiem, going for a backdoor to the dilapidated factory. I become giddy with excitement. She slipped past most of my long-distance sensors and cameras before inadvertently tripping some of my more cleverly hidden devices. As expected of her.
A long, dark trench coat with a deep hood hides her face from me. There is a slight shimmer in the infrared spectrum running throughout her clothes. Most cameras don’t pick it up but mine do. They subtly shift in the visible spectrum to whatever colour and tone her gloves or boots touch. Not quite invisibility, but close enough for an experienced infiltrator coming in the middle of the night.
Closing in on the door, Requiem reaches out to touch the side of the door. No doubt feeling the shotgun trap I placed there. Psychometry is a difficult power to hide from. Traps, rooms, weapons, valuables, all can be sensed with the proper concentration.
I lick my lips in anticipation as she considers her play. If she is alone then she’ll try the more subtle and quieter approach. If she teamed up with any neighbouring superheroes, she’ll go in loud to try and flush me out. After a moment of consideration, Requiem steps quietly from the door and starts preparing a thin grappling hook to climb up to a window. Tonight, she is alone.
After a well aimed throw and muted climb, she makes it in sight of camera 2. The third floor appears dusty and empty with its many offices. I can tell from her slow gait that she doesn’t trust any corner. A slight chuckle and awe leaves my lips as she expertly moves around the various wire traps. I intentionally installed most of them without a triggering mechanism. Her power either let her sense my harmless intention to place them there or she could still see them in the dark while camouflaged in glass or dust. I could not decide which was more impressive.
Requiem seemed to sense something as went into an office. I did not have a camera in there but I did not worry much. There were only 2 sets of stairs down to the second floor and my cameras watched both.
After more time than should have preoccupied her in that office, I began to worry. The thoughts racing in my head. Did she find something I cannot predict in this abandoned warehouse. Something of bigger concern than a multi-million dollar thief? Did something happen to her up there on the third floor. Is she incapacitated or trapped in some different way? With my cameras, I could see but not hear. There was too much space for me to hear if she had gotten hurt all the way up there.
As those thoughts filled my mind, a sensor went off for camera 2. As one of the screens switched to it, I spun to see what was going on. Violet Requiem had just landed in a room in the first floor. Small amounts of debris falling on her hood as she dusted it off and walked to the door. “Incredible!” Is the only word I could utter. She must have sensed something that told her the flooring in that room was weak enough to quickly and silently enough break through. She had essentially bypassed several sensors and traps with a little muscle in the right place.
My giddiness was beginning to truly take me over as I was jumping up and down my seat. There were only a few mechanisms in place before she reached me. After sneaking past most of them, and standing near camera 4, she pauses. Electrified door and walls. Her Psychometry works at a distance but only faintly. It only becomes powerful with a touch. A touch she senses would be fatal.
I cannot contain my grin as she contemplates her next move. She cannot sense the other shotgun trigger tied to the door or the spiked flooring hidden behind it, under the carpet. Her gears are grinding as she considers what plan of action. From my perspective, she believes herself to have the element of surprise. Does she have a way to bypass a danger she cannot fully comprehend? The urge to cry out from excitement is difficult to control.
To my confusion, she takes a few steps back. As I’m wondering what she is planning, Requiem touches a wire trap lightly. No pressure, just a light feel to understand what it triggers. The cameras catch a surge in the infrared spectrum. Her suit is giving off excess heat as the exoskeleton beneath her coat bulges slightly. Superhuman strength in exchange for the suit’s camouflage capabilities. She is making her move.
She yanks the wire trap while simultaneously jumping out of the way and throwing a knife. The axe cuts through the air as the rope it hangs on gets shredded by the thrown blade. That weak point in the rope and the high speed movement of the heavy, human sized axe, rip it. I hear the loud crash beyond the door. Without wasting any time, She grabs the axe handle and uses her inhuman strength to whip it through my door. The flying axe gouges a massive hole through the door and crashes into the shotgun trap.
Without the door handle opening, the shotgun doesn’t go off. With a practised leap. Requiem jumps through the hole she just made without touching the electrified door, well past the hidden spikes. I burst out laughing as she landed gracefully near me. As I stood up to face her, she immediately grabbed me and held me up. I couldn’t stop laughing. My mind reeled from the possibilities that I had to blurt out asking.
“How did you know all that was behind the door? Is your psychometry more powerful than I thought? Has it grown since last we met? Did you anticipate the layered traps and guess? Were you able to predict my position and what I had? I need to know? How?”
Violet Requiem of course, answered none of my mad laughing inquiries. She merely stared at me through her mask and asked me her own questions. “What did you intend to do with the money? Where is the rest that you stole? What other plan are you hiding from me?’
As she had me above her head, most would be terrified. I was elated. I can still remember when I partially unmasked her during a previous encounter. The soft contours of her skin and same fierce eyes she stared me down with. A shudder ran through me as I could feel myself being the sole source of her attention, her supervillain, her nemesis.
A different feeling ran through me as I could feel her same psychometric powers to sense what response she could from her questions. As always, she sensed nothing more than my unending love and admiration for her. A fact that she immediately scoffed at as she quickly handcuffed me. “Tch, the same old trick. You’re not going to be able to hide your plans forever from with that mind block of yours. I will eventually manage to crack it you know.”
I grinned myself silly as I told her in some simple phrases she no doubt found mocking. “It’s not a trick, I truly am in love with you. And my grand plan is nothing more than to have your complete and utter focus, concentrated on me and me alone.” She sighed in response, her attitude reinforced by the fact that I would stop cackling maniacally. I couldn’t help it. The excitement of the day, combined with her attention and proximity along with being able to witness her incredible form as she bust into my lair. I was in love all over again. | 129 | You have a crush on the local superhero, but they're a workaholic who only has time for crime. In order to get their attention, you become a villain. | 402 |
Winnifred Knott--Winnie to her friends, a group mostly consisting of Granny's surly black she-goat who wasn't allowed inside anymore--shivered, grumpy and soggy, in front of the hearth. For the last hour she had been trying to light the fire with magic; for the nearly that long, Granny Smythe had been smugly trying not to cackle. The old hag stirred something that looked horrid but smelled delightful in her great big cauldron on the front stoop, periodically adding ingredients that they had spent the last week gathering.
"Granny, this is hogslop," Winnie whined. "It's impossible. The logs are wet, or something."
Granny peered over at her, her one good eye all a twinkle with mischief, and the stone hearth suddenly roared and crackled with a fire fit for a midsummer festival. Flames filled the entire nook, momentarily threatening the cottage. Winnie yelped and tumbled, covering her face as she frantically tried to rescue her eyebrows. They had only just grown back!
As quickly as the blaze had leapt into existence, it *fwoomped* itself out. Smoke and fire sucked out the chimney and into the blustery afternoon. Granny Smythe chuckled, but managed to catch herself before she could get a proper cackle going.
"Yer ta do eider yer maths er yer magicks, Wy Knott! S'not poutin' gonna help ya; so make wit' da arithmaticks er make wit' da pyrotechnicks, a'ready!" the elderly witch croaked smugly.
On the little bench near the door sat a great big primer full of numbers, the awful kind which had letters mixed in. The book was one of the old witch's prized possessions, probably stolen or traded from some terrified scholar who had gotten lost in these woods years ago. Winnie suspected Granny knew every exercise in the book, blindfolded and backwards; she had surreptitiously tested the crone more than once, but never caught Granny slipping. In any case, Granny treasured that book and everything in it, gleefully using it to torture little girls like something out of the grimmest sort of fairy tales.
Winnie scowled over at the great big book of number magic, and resolved to try the much more ladylike fire magic at least a few more times. She got back into her usual place in front of the stone hearth, now marked with a wet puddle on the floor. She was still soggy and cold from an 'educational' early morning dunking out back ('Fer *incentive*,' the old witch had announced, before chucking the little girl into the duck pond).
Winnie rubbed her hands together vigorously, feeling the warmth. She focused on it, got her mind all twisted up in it, imagined it coming from where the fire was supposed to be. She ignored the chill in her fingers and the chattering of her teeth, and *pushed* the faint memory of heat in her mind outward. Out into the world, into the wood, willing it real, willing it to take hold...
She risked opening one eye. The hearth was cold and dead, firewood only lightly charred from Granny's display earlier. She felt a sinking feeling in her tummy: defeat. Her lip quivered at the thought of it. She didn't dare look directly at Granny, but from the corner of her eye she could *swear* the old bat was grinning with what few teeth she had left.
With an inviting sort of sigh, the great big red book of numbers slapped open against the table, pages rustling. A bit of chalk rattled eagerly against the slate she did her exercises on, as if reminding her that the maths book was ready to accept her surrender. She knew that the *moment* she submitted herself to the unholy tortures of algebra, Granny would wiggle her wrinkly old nose and there would be a warm fire going, a pot of fresh chicken and herb soup bubbling merrily away on the pot hook.
Winnie huffed, scrunched her face up, and slapped her icy hands together until they stung like burns. She flexed frozen fingers and wiggled until her dress squelched, trying to remember what proper warmth felt like. She knew Granny Smythe was trying to teach her a lesson--always with the lessons!--but Winnie would be *damned* if that lesson was going to be quadratic equations.
*Not today, maths!* Winnie thought, and filled her mind with fire.
---
The ducks--who had for generations lived in the little pond behind the witch's cottage--were a fairly easy-going lineage of waterfowl. They had to be, to put up with the old bat and her noxious concoctions, the worryingly frequent explosions centered on her apprentices, and the occasional midnight cackling session when any decent waterfowl was busy trying to sleep.
But when the roof of the witch's cottage rose up with a great blast of fire and shower of bricks, tumbled end over end three times, and landed with a great thatchy splat right in the middle of their pond, the ducks decided that they had had *quite* enough of magical neighbors. A quacking exodus commenced, with sullen ducks making their ire known as they evacuated their much-beloved pond.
---
That night Winnie grumbled, her ears red and her eyes sore, as she scratched out another brain-meltingly complex formula from the maths book. Nearby, Granny's goat stuck her shaggy head through what remained of the wall and bleated for attention. Luckily she had been safely out of the blast radius at the time, but still felt entitled to complain about the inconvenience, whether anyone was listening or not.
From beside her bent cauldron, which wobbled dangerously even with the toasted remains of *1001 Heroic Prophecies* by Beatrice Guyle stuffed under one crooked leg, Granny Smythe scowled and stomped and hissed and boiled as much as her ruined potion did. She glanced over at the child periodically, giving her accusing looks when she wasn't making horrible faces at the debris of what used to be a perfectly serviceable home.
Winnie, meanwhile, sat amongst the rubble and steadfastly ignored the old witch. She refused to feel guilty. She was stuck doing maths, after all, once again having singed off both of her eyebrows, so she felt like she had suffered punishment enough. Even if they *were* both left cold, hungry, miserable, and covered in soot. There wouldn't be any dinner, either, at least until the lads from the village could come round to help rebuild the place--the hearth had been obliterated, along with much of the rest of the cottage.
"That's the sign of sloppy construction," she muttered to herself, scribbling out the square root of *c^2 - b* in the moonlight. "S'not my fault the roof was all loose. Did us a favor really; why, any old breeze coulda dropped the whole house on our heads, and then where would we be?"
Granny's old she-goat bleated her agreement, chewing experimentally at a bit of education that had been blown free in the aftermath of the day's lesson. | 11 | Witches often make deals with people for various things, healing wounds, love/relationship troubles, etc. The Price? The First born child from whoever makes the deal. The twist? The witch educates the child for the majority of their life. The Education is free. | 29 |
How I came by what I call the "Anti Death Note" is a story in of itself... but that's not actually the interesting part, suffice it to say I found a loophole in the stupid Genies three rules, and how I came by a genuine Genie in a lamp is a story for another day.
What I *did* with a book that would bring back to life anyone who's name was written in it is definitely the interesting part. I tested it with my first pet cat,. The Genie had implied that wishing someone back from the dead would end up in zombies and chaos...and yes I had read Pet Cemetery. But no.. Harley had just sauntered in through the door, like he'd only been away for an hour or two instead of dead for the last twenty years. He'd hoovered up the cat food, gratefully but somewhat bemusedly accepted the tearful cuddles as if they were his just dues, and gone to sleep upside down with his legs splayed every which way ... just as he'd always done.
Satisfied that it wasn't going to pull a Monkey's Paw on me, I sat down to consider what to do. I *could* just keep quiet about it, only resurrecting a few people each year if I so chose. Didn't even need to know them personally or be anywhere near them. Just a few strokes of a pen, and *pop* there they were, alive again. Even the lack of corpus wouldn't make a difference, Harley had been cremated and when I checked the little box on the shelf it was still full.
Question was.. who to bring back?
I did consider running a discrete service, $100 for a resurrection of dearly departed or something like that... but then I thought, 'fuck it!'. Firstly that was too sleazily exploitive and secondly maintaining anonymity would be next to impossible. There would be people who'd *kill* to get ahold of this book.
No, what I wanted to do was shake up the world a bit... let it remain a mystery and really rattle people's complacy, while maybe doing some good.
I smiled as an idea popped into my head... a wonderful, terrible, *brilliant* idea.. both evil and good at the same time... I grabbed for the first thing I could find to write with and started to write.
Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor.
Queen Elizabeth Tudor.
I had to stop a moment and chuckle at the idea of *those* two meeting...
President Abraham Lincoln.
President George Washington.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Alexander Hamilton.
I paused, taking a mental breath... just those four names would create havoc, more so it being election year. But I was in danger of being too USA-centric and there was the rest of the world to consider.
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.
Temujin, later called Genghis Khan.
Peter Alekseyevich Romanov.
I had considered adding King Arthur, but there was an pretty good chance he wasn't real and i had no idea what would happen if I wrote a fictional person's name. Did it just bring them *back* to life, or did it bring them *to* life? Did it recreate, or create, the person?
Anyway, that was enough political mayhem for one day... my thoughts turned elsewhere, to those that had died before their time, or were missed still... and i knew exactly who to start with!
Elvis Aaron Presley.
Walter Koenig.
Anton Viktorovich Yelchin.
Leonard Simon Nimoy.
James Montgomery Doohan.
Jackson DeForest Kelley.
Grace Dell Nichols, known as Nichelle Nichols.
Ok, so I'm a Trekkie... anyway.. onwards. I had a world to turn upside down and lot of people who deserved a second chance at life! | 16 | You are in possession of an anti-Death-Note. Any dead person will be brought back to life once their name is written on it. Aware of the chaos it may bring, you have to decide what to do with it. | 64 |
*It's my new design. Be careful with it.*
A cold, musty workshop, long abandoned, or so it was assumed. Two weeks ago I thought the same, until a long night at the bar with a stranger proved otherwise. We were instant friends. He wasn't good at talking to anyone else. He was so happy to show me every little project he'd been working on.
I once thought all those eccentric inventors were a type of person slain by the merciless name of progress and consumerism. Tinkering in sheds is no longer profitable, and I was rather the cynical type. His presence was, therefore, refreshing.
*Don't get carried away, mind.*
It was a large box of plastic and wire and metal, cogs and gears twisting around. It frankly looked like a mess, or as if it had been thrown together haphazardly for a child's school project. I suppose, in a way, that was the beauty of it. He said it was a 3D printer but I'd seen those before and they made sense to look at. This was a cacophony of gizmos, gadgets and gubbins - something only explainable with a dismissive hand wave and a vague description. I don't think it could ever be replicated.
It had a USB port for some reason. He went and plugged a conventional keyboard in. A series of luminescent LED's blinked to life, displaying the words
>`Enter item of your choosing`.
I looked at the inventor for clarification. He'd only tested this once. Once was apparently enough. He gave an encouraging nod.
*Give it a go. Type anything you like.*
I typed the first thing in my head.
>W a t c h
The contraption sprung to life, whirring and clunking in a concerning but productive manner. The inventor's eyes gleamed behind his little, neat, spectacles. A worrying thought sprung to mind in that moment, that I discarded then but have realised once more far later... Was there even a power source? It didn't look like any leads or wires or batteries were there. It seemed entirely self-contained. As if the machine itself were alive, living off only the air.
We talked for twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, about how exactly it worked. None of it made sense to me, and I'm sure half of it didn't make sense to him either. Maybe it did. For me, at least, it was utterly unfathomable.
A metallic chime sounded, mechanically timed and yet somehow angelic in nature. He opened a hatch, then proudly thrusts a perfect Rolex in there. He beamed. There was no way he could have planted that in there. I had watched him the entire time. All disbelief vanished from my soul in that moment.
*Go on. Try another. But after that we must stop.*
I agreed. This was simply delightful. I thought, for a laugh I might try and catch the machine out.
>C a t
> `Living or inanimate?`
Panic. The inventor gave an awkward shrug as if to say it was my decision. I had to give it a go. I had to.
> L i v i n g
*Might take longer, this*
Wait, did he really try it only once? All he gave me was a knowing smile. My mind ached with utter confusion, heart pounding for a simple explanation. We could be playing god right now. This could change absolutely everything about society if people knew about this.
*That's why we need to be careful, mate.*
Could he hear my thoughts, or was he answering his own thoughts aloud?
*You look like you need a drink.*
I probably did, in that moment. Nevertheless, we wandered down to the local pub and had our usual drinking session, only prolonged. For fear of what we may return to. | 21 | You've never seen a 3D printer like it. It doesn't use blueprints only English Prompts. You type in "Watch". 20 mins later a perfect rolex sits inside. You type "Cat". The printer asks "Living or Inanimate?" | 82 |
"You again!?" My four pursuers shouted in unison. In the blink of an eye I found myself standing in the epicenter of a Mexican standoff. The deathly pale and thin woman drew a scythe from beneath her hooded cape, letting it rest on the soldier's neck. The gas-masked trench soldier aimed his browning automatic rifle at the bandit who had turned his six shooter on the black suited assassin. His nickel-plated silenced hardballer pressed against the thin woman's hood.
Passing cars whizzed past the small courtyard in the center of the apartment complex, now the center of my universe. Nobody said a word. It was getting awkward.
"So.......what's goin on? Why are you all after me?" I asked.
"Shut up!" The four yelled back.
The pale woman slowly scraped her scythe across the soldier's mask. "I was here first, he's mine. Things are getting a bit cold down below, my master senses great power not yet unleashed within him, needs him to light the fire." She hissed.
The soldier turned his rifle on the woman, the assassin and bandit turned their guns on the soldier. Heavy breathing emanated from his mask. "Negative. My mission is to acquire the progenitor of mankind's only hope against the skrugg. Failure is not an option."
Bandit boy used the barrel of his six shooter to adjust his cowboy hat. He smiled through clenched teeth, a plume of cigar smoke escaping from his lips. "You fellas got some balls on you for even considering I would let this inter dimensional bounty escape, you got some balls on you too madam. Getting paid a lot to track this sucker down, same as the last one."
Finally the assassin got received his turn. "This one a dead or alive bounty?" He asked.
"Yup." Nodded the bandit.
"I'll shoot him and split the money with you."
"Sounds good to me partner. Democracy prevails again. Two against one and one. Unless you two want to work together against us."
Solider and the woman from the other side conceded.
"Do I get a vote?" In retrospect I should have chosen something more poetic for my last words. | 61 | For some reason, you end up being chased by a hooded figure, an assassin, a bandit and a soldier. When you got cornered, they all halted when they saw each other. | 134 |
Balance must be maintained.
There must be balance in all things, or reality as we know it would crumble around us like a building with no foundation. I can heal wounds. I can even bring back the dead. Hell, I can even extend lifespans to ridiculous levels. I can provide virtual immortality. They call it the power of life. Both of these require sacrifice. They call me the greatest healer to ever live. They are wrong. I am just the most mercenary. The most ruthless.
Balance must be maintained.
I have no wish to grow old, or to die. Other mages give me a weary eye, even necromancers. Well except for Terry. I have Terry wrapped around my little finger. I let him think he's just helping me resurrect the dead. He calls himself a white necromancer. Hah! If only he knew the truth. He's helping me do far worst then the worst necromancer in history.
Balance must be maintained.
The rich have made me rich beyond measure. Rich enough I will never die of injury, disease or old age. The rich would not care what happens in the shadows. All they care about is extending their fat, wasteful existence. Kings and Emperors bow before me because they fear want to rule forever. No king rules forever my friends.
Balance must be maintained.
I have the best barristers in the world on my payroll. My contracts are ironclad. The life you get, whether it be healing an injury, disease, cancer, resurrection, or that juicy extra eighty years of life: You sign a binding, non-negotiable contract. You see my contracts state that what I give, I can take away. Sure the powerful have tried to kill me to break the contract so they could go after my wealth and property. They always end up killing themselves in the process while I am unscathed.
Balance must be maintained.
You see to heal an injury, I must cause an injury, to raise the dead, I must sacrifice the living, to grant immortality in eighty year chunks, a child must be aged... People don't ask questions. There are always the poor and unwashed masses. Knowing their immortality, and lives of their loved ones is on the line, no one looks too closely at my business model. Sure other mages suspect, but even they come begging at my door step for a few more years to study. They are the worst, while others might suspect something. The mages know: Balance must be maintained. | 17 | Healing powers are rare amongst your kind, yours lead you to be one of the most renowned heroes in the world. What most people don't know, is that you're not just a healer and your powers are more horrifying that they might look. | 23 |
"Wait, did you just... how did you.."
The human smiled politely. "Thank you, for your name."
My eyes darted back and forth, staring at nothing in particular as I searched through my memory of the conversation.
There was no way he could have tricked *me*, and yet, he had. I hadn't uttered my own name in eons, but this mortal man had just...
"How..." was all I could mutter. "How... How?"
"If I tell you, will you promise to not seek revenge?" The human said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket.
I tilted my head like a confused dog. "Why would... hmm. Ok, sure, human. I agree."
The man nodded, then turned and began walking away.
"Hey! Wait!" I called, sprinting to catch up to the taller human. "You were going to tell me..."
The man stopped and glanced down at me, with a mischievous grin. "Do you understand?"
I threw my hands up in frustration. "No, you big smelly ape, I don't! You asked me a question, then went to leave!"
The human turned back towards me, crossing his arms across his chest and sighing. "And you're supposed to be the trickster."
I tried to remain calm. I was very bad at it.
"This is no time for insolent games, Human! We-"
The human interrupted me. "What I didn't say is just as important as what I did." He said.
"What do you mean?" I asked, perplexed.
I hadn't been stumped by a human before, but then again, I hadn't revealed my name to one before today either. I guess this was just going to be a day full of first time experiences.
"All I said just then was '*If* I tell you, will you promise to not seek revenge'. I did not say I *would* tell you. You inferred that and acted upon your assumption."
"Yes, that's obvious." I lied, trying to mimic the human's smug posture.
"And yet you were surprised when I tried to leave." He said.
"Perhaps. But that still doesn't explain how you learned my name was Glixxatal." I said. "I don't even think I've spoken that name aloud in a thousand..."
The human's smile brightened as my own mood darkened.
"...years." I finished, staring up at the human.
/r/SlightlyColdStories | 1,277 | The Fae froze, running his mind back over the subtleties of the conversation, following it's hidden twists and clever turns, until he realizes. "Wait, did you just... how did you.." The human smiles politely. "Thank you, for your name" | 2,005 |
"Should I get the apples or the pears? I prefer apples, but the pears are a dollar cheaper..."
**Not the pears! Get them apples! Yummy apples!**
*You're on a tight budget, buy the pears.*
>Screw healthy food, get the Pringles, barbecue if they got it.
Your right hand wavers between the choices, only to have your left hand snatch some tangerines.
"Um. Yeah, those are two dollars cheaper..." Yuck, you never liked to get the white strings stuck in your teeth.
Now it was time to get bread, you hoped that they wouldn't be as snippy with these.
>Sliced bread, toast with jam! Ham and cheese!
**Nope! I got gluten intolerance! You'll kill us!**
*We still got last week's bag. It's still good for two more days.*
Your hand pushed the cart forward, agreeing with it. "Alright..." Stale bread should suffice for now.
You put on headphones and zip your hand into the jacket's pocket. *"Time to get the meat, today's chicken is discounted."*
The voices were drowned by G&R riffs and your arm struggled to get free. The butcher didn't care, used to your weirdness.
Another day survived with these annoying body mates. Though some days they could be entertaining.
**Bitch! Stop using music to hide!**
Yep, time to prepare for tomorrow. | 79 | You have multiple entities inside your head. As you carry on with your life, they always give opinion on things that you never asked for. Today, you're trying to make a decision on what to buy in a grocery. | 292 |
The golf pencil rolled across the premium pine flooring, followed by the pamphlet map, scribbled to oblivion, swaying in the nowhere breeze carrying just a hint of meat.
“We aren’t getting out of this, are we?” Marcus leaned over the half fence separating them from yet another floor, somehow. “This will be what? The seventh set of stairs we found?”
“Maybe we accidentally went up a few floors and we’re going in circles. Up and down,” Susan offered, walking toward the unmanned cafeteria.
“How could we have accidentally gone up stairs? We would remember.” Marcus ran fingers through his hair, taking several strands with them.
“I dunno,” she said casually as she began spooning meatballs into her backpack. “We walked fifteen miles yesterday, maybe it's like a ramp, just the inclines too low for us to notice.”
“That still doesn’t explain how we walked fifteen MILES through an IKEA!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Susan said, flicking the sauce off her metal spoon as she pointed it. “I didn’t realize you expected me to solve this whole mystery. What happened to one problem at a time, huh? Or does that only apply when it's your problems that need priority?”
“Yeah, sure. You would say that. You know I’m probably fired, right? Phones don’t work in here and now I’ve missed the big pitch.” Marcus sighed and stepped over to the drink machine and began pouring a soda.
“Wow, even in some kind of twilight zone anomaly, you still can’t talk about anything but work. That is so much you, Marcus, and you should get water, not that sugary crap.”
“You my doctor, too? Well, guess what, babe? I don’t think my A1C is very relevant just now. The caffeine helps me think anyway. I hate water, you know that.”
“I do actually,” she said as she snapped off a flag pole, testing it as a walking stick. “And I should have seen that for the red flag it was on our first date. If I had just listened to my mother-”
“Oh, don’t bring your mother into this.” Marcus turned back the way they came.
“And where do you think you’re going?” She yelled behind him.
“I’m retracing our steps. We clearly missed something. You're the one always saying I'm bad with directions. Going deeper into this maze won’t help.”
“We decided-” she started.
“Well, change of plans! I don’t care where you go. I’m retracing my steps.”
“Marcus, don’t leave me like this,” she said, anger hardly left in her voice. “Please.”
Marcus turned and walked back to her, two day old makeup smeared on her face. She had fashioned a sweatband out of towels. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We’ll stick together and get through this.”
They embraced and kissed. An air horn blared all around them followed by a dinging bell.
Marcus pulled away, clutching her by the shoulders as confetti rained down on them.
“Whooooooooa!” a young man in a suit yodeled before appearing from behind the kitchen. He tied his hair back in a man bun as he danced out to them, followed by several cameramen.
“It was looking so close to failure at the end there folks! But I knew the dream team had it in ‘em! Yahoo!” The man playfully punched Marcus and Susan’s sides.
“What the hell is going on?” Susan yelled, craning her neck all around. “Is this some kind of game show?”
“Some kind of game show?” the man said befuddled. “This is ‘CAN YOUR MARRIAGE SURVIVE IKEA?! SURVIVAL EDITION!”
A studio audience appeared from behind furniture and plastic plants on the level below, chanting along with him.
“And we won?” Marcus asked, eyes darting between the cameras.
“Yessir! Yessir!” the man said, holding out a novelty-sized gift card as big as him. “A ten thousand dollar IKEA spending spree!”
“Oh,” Marcus said, seeing Susan matching his lackluster expression.
A woman behind the camera in a black suit gestured for both of them to smile big. “Anomaly breach resolution in progress,” she said into an earpiece. “Amnestics likely not required.”
/r/surinical | 473 | your sense of direction has always been bad, to the point of being a running joke among your friends, but after 28 hours of stumbling through an ikea store you realise that it isn't your navigation skills that's preventing you from finding the exit... | 2,436 |
When you have the ability to gain new abilities based on who sponsors you, you'd figure that livestreaming your crimefighting to attract more sponsors for would be a great idea
Instead, I'm currently on the ground staring right into the barrel on a revolver pointed at me. I have an ability that was supposed to handle it, but it had a limit (Apparently a Samsung sponsorship only makes electronics explode, not non-smart firearms)
"Time to put an end to your so-called videomaking career, hero," said thug, as he squeezed the trigger. I heard a slight *ding* come from my pocket before the *bang* of his gun. Then, the sudden pain.
And then nothing.
Not the nothing like "the dark void of death". I mean like that was all that happened. Bang! Pain. Still alive! No blood, no fade to black. That kind of nothong.
Aside from a small amount of pain coming from my forehead, I was alright, and, of course, confused. How did I survive that?! I wasn't sponsored by any companies specializing in military armor or security. None of current skillset should have enabled me to survive a direct bullet to the head.
My thoughts were interrupted from a notification from my phone. I took my eyes off the bewildered thug and glance at the message displayed on phone's cracked screen.
After reading it, my eyes widened in shock. A second later, I started laughing.
"What's so funny?!" yelled the shocked gunman, his expression betraying how unnerved he was.
"My channel just got a new sponsor," I said with an air of new found confidence, cracking my knuckles and advancing upon my frightened, would-be murderer.
"Your ass-kicking for today has been brought to you by Nokia!" | 176 | You are in a world filled with superhumans. You have a unique power. Every time your sponsored, you get a power related to the sponsor. NordVPN? An unbreakable force field. Uber Eats? You can make any food. | 342 |
Rowan sat down behind the bar and parted his cloak to display the token hanging from a chain around his neck. Blythe, bless her, immediately filled up a tankard of ale and set it before him.
"Still alive, old timer?" she asked. "Here to take a new job?"
"In a moment," he grumbled, picking it up. "Let me wash down the dust in my throat first."
He took a sip and cast his gaze over the dusty inn. The Iron Dagger was a place where men with gold came to get their problems solved, as well as a place for weary bounty hunters to take a break. It was one of the many such places scattered across the country, grudgingly tolerated by the king. Their reach and reputation were just that great. Rowan could say without a hint of bragging that he had contributed to that reputation. With twenty years under his belt, he had claimed countless bounties and had the scars to show it.
He took another sip and frowned, tilting his head. A rhythmic noise came from outside, like the thumping of an enormous drum, steadily growing louder. Then came the alarmed shouts.
Rowan set down his tankard and swiveled to the door just in time to see an enormous scaly head burst inside. Swearing, he drew his sword.
"Stand down," Blythe cried, waving frantically. "Razorwing's not an enemy."
*Razorwing*? He froze in surprise. The dragon squeezed deeper in, its head sliding past Rowan on a sinuous neck, but the doorway proved to narrow for its shoulders. It rumbled in irritation and squeezed its front leg inside with a noise of cracking wood. Bringing it closer, it raised it before Blythe. Rowan gaped. From its claws dangled an Iron Dagger token much like his own.
"It is done," the dragon rumbled in a voice that shook the walls. "The Linden Bandits are no more."
"Well done," Blythe said matter-of-factly, although Rowan could see her gripping her apron so hard her knuckles went white. "Any collateral damage?"
The dragon released a puff of smoke. "Not much. A fire—a *very* minor one—the locals extinguished it easily. No harm done."
Blythe sighed and unlocked her strongbox. "I keep telling you," she said as she deftly piled golden coins onto the counter, "you have to be more considerate of the surroundings. It's not just your pay on the line but our reputation."
The dragon snatched the coins with its claws and carefully deposited them into a leather satchel hanging around its neck. "I'll be more careful. It's just that your buildings burn so easily."
"I have a perfect job for you, then." She rummaged behind the bar and resurfaced with a piece of parchment. "Redbeard, a notorious pirate, has been terrorizing the Southern Straits. No one will mind if you torch a few of his ships. Will you take the bounty?"
The dragon turned to squint at the parchment with a giant golden eye. "I shall. The Straits are but an hour's flight away." His forked tongue flicked out. "May I have a drink before I depart?"
Blythe nodded with obvious reluctance and heaved a barrel of ale onto the counter with a grunt. The dragon gripped it gently with its scaly mouth, tilted its head back, and sucked the drink dry in enormous gulps.
"Ta, Blythe. I'll be back with news of Redbeard's demise." It glanced at Rowan, frozen stiff with his sword in his hand. "Comrade," it rumbled with just a hint of sarcasm, and wiggled out of the inn. There came that thumping which Rowan now recognized for the beating of enormous wings, and the doors slammed shut from the wind.
Rowan sheathed his sword and reached for his tankard with a trembling hand. At the last moment, he changed his mind and pushed the drink away.
"Tell me it's not your drink making me see things."
"My drink has nothing to do with it," Blythe said. "Razorwing came to ask to be inducted three months ago and has been hunting bounties ever since. He's proven highly efficient"—she grimaced—"if sometimes overly enthusiastic."
Rowan shook his head incredulously. "Never mind how efficient he is! You just accepted a bloody *dragon* into our ranks?"
She snorted. "Would you have had the stones to look him in the eye and tell him his services weren't welcome, old timer?"
"Fair enough." Slumping on the stool, Rowan took a long draught of his ale.
"What about you, then?" she asked. "Going to take a new job?"
Rowan opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "Competition's heating up," he muttered. "I was thinking it's high time I retired." | 168 | A dragon decides to become a mercenary after finding out humans will give you a lot of gold in exchange for killing other humans | 594 |
[WP] it is a proven fact that your soul mate cannot harm you in any way shape or form, either by action or by inaction. So when a eldricth spirit invades Earth to feast on humanity's sanity, you find that you are the only one that is immune to her abilities.
It all came to me like a slow haze. Looking out the window in boredom watching as cars passed by, my eyes drifted back and fourth between each one. Waiting for a excuse to walk out of this building, however before I could turn to look the other way, a loud smack thundered through the thin walls of my apartment. A burning sensation thundered on my left cheek as I slowly turned back to my girlfriend. A very rageful look written all over her face, my unamused eyes looking away to meet the sight of a small car crash. My eyes widened in a small amount of excitement, however my teeth grinded against one another in anger because I had missed it.
*"why can't you stay focused for one God damn second! This is why you will never find a soul mate! Asshole!"*
A small breath of relief yet sadness left my lungs. I heard the door slam open and shut, a small flinch of both sounds. Not after long I was completely alone Before I could realize it, I was at the kitchen table leaning against it. Deep heavy breaths of frustration and anger, turning back to the window. I grabbed my hoodie that was a little dirty however would work for now. I didn't care that it was, so why should anyone else?
Walking out the door i didn't even bother to lock it, I had nothing of value anyway. What does it mean if someone took my things, if even I didn't want them.
The fresh cold air of the early morning filled my lungs with a sort of happiness and closure. Letting out any negativity that I had before.
walking down the street i saw the car wreck owners, stopping to watch them i eventually turned back to walk away. Putting up the hood and wiping my nose with my sleeve. A small sneeze came from my mouth yet nobody said bless you. A realization suddenly came to me... I was alone, all cars that were driving by turned around and left. I watched them drive off in a hurry, in my own world I didn't see the destruction around me. Any grass or trees were scorched, everything except the path I was walking on was destroyed. Looking back to my complex I saw a large ball of fire crash into it. My eyes widened once more as I heard the building crumble. Anyone in the building was already dead... or so I thought, upon further inspection the streets were littered with bodies. My shoes were soaked with blood even though I could promise it was not like this 30 seconds ago
To my horror several of the bodies stood up, paralyzed with fear I saw their blood soaked clothes and ripped skin. The sight and smell of this nearly made me throw up, closing my eyes and holding my fist to my mouth tightly to make sure nothing came out
I slowly looked back to these standing figures, their eyes rolled in the back of their heads. Walking like zombies towards something. As I looked up, the sight of the very creature appalled me. Even if I did my best I couldn't describe how horrifying it was. Everything told me to run however I couldn't, standing still with pure horror. Ill do my best to describe her to you, two large dragon like wings with powerful arms and legs. Green slimy skin covered her flesh, large red eyes stared at me through the mist. Tentacles covering her mouth moved around slowly, like they had a mind of their own. Thick battle armor held close to her with glowing chain mail.
I stepped backwards slowly with the hope she didn't see me. However when she started to move closer I held my breath. With a wave of her hand a semi visible wave of magic flew at me. I'm guessing that's what she did to turn everyone else into a zombie... my eyes closed, If this was the end. I guess it was okay.
However to my surprise, nothing happened. This must have taken her off guard as well because she noticed and came closer. The once 30 foot tall giant eldritch monster now my height (5ft 10) getting in a semi ready fighting stance. I swallowed quietly and opened my mouth. A bold statement that I would probably regret
*"you know its rude to invade someone's planet without permission... right?"
My voice was shaky and uneven, the shock of it all... my mind finally started to break. The slight realization that I was most likely going to die made my legs tremble. Yet, when she spoke back it surprised me even more. A strong voice with lots of authority and power
**"without permission? You were the one who told me to come. Sure my followers wanted me to return... however I have a feeling that... we are destined to meet"**
What she said made me nearly burst out in laughter, her and I? Impossible, I haven't even had a soul mate. Now some random space monster comes and claims I am hers?
*"you must be mistaken, ther must be something wrong here...*"
I slowed my breath and calmed down it took longer than I had hoped however it would do., she approached me more and placed her hand on my shoulder. To which I shivered, I suppose I should have worn a clean hoodie after all....
"**I am not, come let me explain**"
(And that kids, is how I met your mother)
((Also sorry if its not very good, its my first ever post here)) | 24 | It is a proven fact that your soulmate cannot harm you in any way shape or form, either by action or inaction. So when an Eldricth spirit invades Earth to feast on humanity's sanity, you find that you are the only one that is immune to her abilities. | 112 |
Writing at 6am was probably not the best idea I've ever had.
It's probably a mess, but I hope someone enjoys it, anyway.
**Titans of Industry**
r/AerhartWrites
Steelcliff, the city on the rocky rise, churned. Behind its towering walls, the sounds of metal and shouts of men intermingled with the smell of oil and molten ore. On either side of the worn cobbles, streets trampled to uniformity by the buckling wheels of the iron convoys, one could hear the ponderous grinding of the factories, each belching forth plumes of ash from brick smokestacks. Snow from the night before covered it all, but quickly turned to slush underfoot, leaving only the roofs of the tightly packed buildings blanketed in pale sheets.
The only exception was the great emptiness between the inner industrial area and outer wall. It was a restricted area now, and the only part of the city at ground-level where snow fell undisturbed – a giant rectangular space, bathed in white, devoid of life and activity.
Somewhere above, a pair of icy eyes roved over the scene. They took it in – the beating machine hearts of the city, the gently throbbing arteries of its main roads and sidestreets.
A gentle cough and aged voice drew those icy eyes from the window.
“They’ve confirmed receipt of the last shipments now, Director. Should be ready to deploy in a few minutes.”
Director Lyssa turned to face the source of the voice. General Marik stood in the doorway, his worn armour creaking and rattling gently as he took a few tentative steps into the dim warmth of her office. The time-worn creases in his face and silver shock of hair made no secret of his age – but his bearing did not bend, did not waver. A military man, proud and strong, just as he had been when he was young. Director Lyssa did not doubt his skills with the sword were similarly undiminished.
She nodded approvingly to the man, and beckoned him forth. Invitation granted, he strode to her side, and the two looked out over the bustle of the city.
“They say the Champion of Lichfield has gathered something of a following,” the General said, matter-of-factly.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” the Director replied. Her gaze did not shift from the window. “The people love a hero.”
General Marik paused to consider her response.
“You don’t think it’s a problem, then?”
“Oh, no, it’s a problem. Of course it’s a problem.”
Director Lyssa tugged idly at her cloak as she elaborated.
“Without Imperial aid, their forces outnumber ours easily. They have a competent leader that they admire, and morale is high.”
“And, I hear, a contingent of casters from the Lichfield Academy,” General Marik added grimly. “Quite the winning combination.”
“It certainly might be,” the Director agreed, walking slowly to her desk. She shuffled papers this way and that, searching. “But in the end, people will be people. And that, I think, will always be their downfall.”
“Director?”
The Director straightened up, having found her prize amid the detritus of her desk. It was a small wooden box, rectangular and heavy for its size. Its face bore a number of rudimentary painted buttons under a shallow mesh window, and a thin, metal rod protruded from one of its top corners.
“Everyone loves a hero,” Director Lyssa mused. Raising the handheld radio, she held down one of its buttons and issued some orders through it. A garbled acknowledgement returned, and she promptly shut off the device.
General Marik still had little idea what the Director meant, but he opted for patience. Despite her eccentricities, her enigmatic advice had spared the city great suffering more than once – and now, both he and the people of Steelcliff had come to trust in their leader’s wisdom.
“It’s true they have strength on their side, Marik. But I believe we will win, regardless. Do you know why?”
General Marik shook his head.
“Because everyone loves a hero,” she repeated. “But the problem with people who love heroes, is that they expect to be saved.”
Beyond the window, in the frosted white rectangle marking the restricted zone of the city, a dark line began to draw across the virgin snow. It appeared only faintly at first, but began to grow, bisecting the pale field of ice as it widened into a great maw in the ground. The pair turned to the window to observe.
“The Champion of Lichfield must save his own, because they all believe they need him to save them.”
The hole in the ground had now expanded into a vast chasm. Snow tumbled from the screaming metal doors into its depths, revealing the machinations hidden within. Massive constructions of steel and sail thrummed beneath, waking in the heat-haze of glowing engines and the urgent barking of crew. Slowly, each began to rise from the pit. One by one, the airships took to the sky, each buffeted by the mountain gales and wild cheers of the streets below – majestic beasts of conflict, each a skyborne manifestation of war.
For the first time in many months, Director Lyssa smiled.
“Steelcliff will win, General Marik, because we resolve to save ourselves.” | 23 | You get teleported to a medieval world full of magic. But instead of being the hero protagonist your a normal person in the enemy nation of the protagonist. You decide to use your knowledge of the modern world to industrialize your nation and defeat the protagonist | 98 |
So you think you can handle your mandrakes?
*Cue screeching potatoes with faces.*
And your charm for *charm* is enough for ol' country pageants?
*You hear applause.*
Are you ready to put that wand to good (heh) use?
*Haka sounds and some stomping noises.*
Well, we are looking for *YOU*!
*A man in a three-piece suit glides in, broom underneath.*
Here at New Salem, the broom commute has never been easier! We have express Ley lines for even the lowest tier amateurs and pseudo-voodoo folk!
*A transition into the Grand Library. An old hag winks at you and flashes a charming one-tooth smile. The single tooth is porcelain white and almost artificially lit up.*
With a whopping 3,000-year-old collection of premium grimoires and all the latest tomes, there is no shortage of spells and cataclysm you can invoke, be it entry level mage or one of our executive warlocks! This would normally cost you an eye or a limb (maybe even both, depending on your mana, haha!) but we make sure our town takes care of its own!
*You hear the whisper "It's free~", fading as sand appears out of nowhere. But also everywhere. You are now on a beach. You realize you have a piña colada in hand.*
Of course, it's not always curses and hexes and alchemic mixes. We understand that with great esoteric knowledge comes a great propensity to party!
*Cue running, giggling women in bikinis. They get lifted by a heavy-built man in Speedos. He then grows horns and his eyes glow.*
We offer up to 3 days PTO accrued every month! Every month? Yes, every month! As long as the moon aligns well with your Zodiac, you can file for leave with as soon as a 2-day notice! This will give you more time to fit in your transmutations, visit arcane sites, and of course to get that potion brewed juuust right.
*A red cast shows up around your field of view, and then purple smoke. The women in bikini chuckle and play with their... tails? The "man" grew in size and bellows a deafening "Oh, yeah~"*
New Salem also offers wonderful lodging with free parking. Be it an undead wyvern or just your regular griffin, you can rest assured that with our 24/7 Eldritch barrier, all your possessions, *possessed* or otherwise, are kept safe within the town limits! Your new quarters will consist of a classic, cozy hut. But don't let the looks fool you.
*A massive serpent comes into view forming a heart shape. It blows you a kiss. It proceeds to enter a small hut but disappears completely within. Its head then pops out to nod and wink.*
It's prime real estate. Now, I know what you're thinking. All this? Why aren't there more of you? That's a good question, haha! Where have all the witches gone? Haha!
*You teleport to a den with a fireplace and golden furniture. There is a small sphinx the size of a cat purring on the floor.*
Now, this might seem too good to be true, but rest assured, all it takes is for you to sign your name in blood with this manticore quill! Your credit history will be soft checked but hey, welcome to New Salem! We look forward to the next millennium with you! | 24 | Not enough witches. Now hiring. Benefits, dental, holidays off. | 137 |
“Well, that’s certainly concerning,” said no one in particular.
Austin stared at his kitchen wall in confusion. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn his tiled backsplash had just spoken to me.
“Come again?” he forayed. The frying pan before him began to simmer.
A large pop in the pan was enough to inform Austin, he was indeed hearing nothing.
“Well then,” Austin murmured, picking up the slab of chicken.
“Absolute rubbish if you ask me,” the voice from particularly nowhere stated.
Austin dropped the chicken—pink juice slopped against the backsplash.
“Hello?”
“Just now, did you really say chicken taste better without salt?”
Austin looked around for the origin of the voice but failed to pinpoint it.
“Um, come again?” The words eked out.
“Are you daft?”
“Why no sir? I think. Must be dreamin.” Austin pinched his arm but nothing happened.
“Hey, how are you hearing me? You some sort of psychic?” Austin hadn’t actually mentioned his feelings of salt out loud.
“No, you dolt. I’m the unfortunate sap at the end of the tunnel who has the misfortune of hearing your particular thought waves. And while we’re on the subject, would you look at that knife. Do yourself a favor and throw it out. That poor chicken is suffering a second death from that hack job, wherever it may be.
“I’m sorry. Tunnel? I need to get my head checked.”
“Well, your head must be leaking brain matter. Look how high you’ve got the heat.”
“It cooks the meat faster!” Austin retorted. He grabbed the dull knife and waved it around menacingly.
“It cooks the meat faster? It cooks the meet faster?!” The voice said flabbergasted. “You want a burnt bird and a belly ache? Are you mad?”
“HEY!” Austin did not like the feeling of being attacked. “That’s plain rude, I’ll have you know! Why don’t you come on out and we’ll have a word.” The knife waved shakily in his hand.
But the voice did not answer.
“Well then,” Austin said smugly.
“Look out.”
In a not so fluid motion, Austin bumped into the frying pan, knocking it off the stove. Austin quickly leapt out of the way, but as he did, he threw the knife into the air.
“Don’t do it!”
But Austin’s body outpaced his thoughts. Regret filled his mind but only after his outreached palm closed around the blade.
He winced and let out a curse into the universe. But then he felt nothing.
Austin opened his eye, expecting to be missing a finger or the room to be coloured crimson. Instead, he opened his hand and looked at the dull knife—his skin the same hue as the raw chicken.
“Idiot.”
And with that, Austin felt an indescribable feeling of loneliness. | 30 | You have a habit of shouting your worries and problems into the void. Today the void answered because it has become increasingly worried about you. | 161 |
"What's the latest?"
I spoke through the door of the Monitoring Office. It was one of many, spread all across the world. It was manned by those of our kind who were the more pacifistic sort. Dryads and constructs worked in tandem, using both nature and machines to keep a watch over the world.
"Quiet for now. Please come in as well."
I smiled at the elf in charge, perched on her high chair. With her permission granted I stepped in, looking across the floor with interest. I could hear the constant buzz of conversation, as they spoke with each other about what they saw.
"I don't trust this. Its been too long since the last attempt. Something must be brewing."
Grionlia gave me a nod. She scratched one of her pointed ears, thinking.
"You and me both. They might be finished of course, deciding our planet is too much effort. But... my gut tells me they are making preparations."
I sighed, rubbing my head. I thought life was hard all those centuries ago, bring a newly turned. Having to feed and remain hidden, but also planning for the future. Now, I wished for those times again.
"Good thing we are too. I've been speaking with as many other Response teams as I can. They agree something is off. But they are using this time to train further, and make upgrades to their equipment."
She nodded, picking up a scroll.
"I'm glad to hear it. How are the dwarves and gnomes getting on with the recovered technology? Any luck in reverse engineering it?"
I smiled, flashing a fang.
"They say they have. Apparently they've worked out the base of their shielding. If all goes well, we will be given our own personal versions soon. Well, the weaker ones of us first. I know the lycans are low on the list."
She rolled her eyes, giving a small shake of her head.
"Did you have anything to do with that?"
I laughed.
"I'm flattered you think I would be able to do it. No, as amusing as it is for old rivals to be lower on the list, they have their rapid healing. It will hurt them sure, but without silver being used in those laser weapons they love so, they can't exactly kill them."
Grionlia pursed her lips, returning to her paperwork.
"Thats a fair point. Anyway, I think that's enough chat for now, don't you have somewhere to be?"
I shrugged, looking at the time.
"In a bit. The sun's still just barely up. We're going on a training excursion. But I will have a direct channel back, just incase."
She nodded again, her attention already devoured by her reports.
"Ok, have fun."
I shook my head, leaving her be. It amused me sometimes, the current state of affairs. Our races working together to save the world, without the majority even knowing it. What would they think if they knew their monsters were also their defenders? I'm sure it would be interesting. Though at some point they would find out. That much I knew. | 62 | Aliens have been trying to invade Earth for a while now, but nobody notices because the supernatural communities, from fairies to vampires and werewolf and everything else, are putting aside their differences to stop them. | 206 |
The jarring clicks and cracks of rust-kissed machinery infected Carl's mind. His expression deformed into that of sheer disgust, similar to the one a kid would do after eating something far too sour. It was unbearable. It was a punishment and a curse, a torture no sadist would dare endure.
The cultists circling him rejoiced in his pain, in his delusion. Forgotten, almost brainless souls always made a worthy sacrifice, and Carl exceeded the expectations. Such a weak human, a mere smudge in the map of the world no one would notice when brushed away. It was beautiful, magnificent, so much so that the Old One teetered in delight the moment he entered the room.
"Can someone stop the machines!" Carl screamed and fell to his knees, covering his ears. He pointed at the Old One. "You, the big and hairy fellow, stop them."
The cultists gasped and turned to one another, seeking an explanation. No sacrifice, no cultist even had ever dared speak to the Old One. No one had ever dared to stare at it for so long without their brains pouring down their noses like soup. And, besides that, Carl's demand fell within reason. Their hiding place was right beneath a room full of old machinery, and their noises were indeed grating, although not to the point of being unbearable.
The Old One growled and the cultists' heads snapped groundward.
"Yes, do some more noise," Carl said, his expression lighting up. "It's loud but it buries the click clacks click clacks. Again, growl again, big lad!"
Tar-black tentacles cascaded down the depths of the Old One. They crawled across the concrete grasping Carl as though they were an infinite-fingered hand.
"Growl, big lad. I command you to growl. I command it!" Carl shouted at the top of his lungs. "Growl!"
The tentacles lifted Carl high in the air and from them, a sea of pearl-white tendrils erupted and flowed deep into Carl's ears all the way to his brain, where they rested upon every wrinkle, every crevasse, every fold.
The Old One spoke then but his words were words the world had never heard nor wished to hear and so they became a new weight in the stone-dense silence. Where before there was nothing, now there was something, and that unperceivable something traveled to Carl's brain to unlock the secrets hidden within it.
With that, the eldritch horror penetrated Carl's consciousness. And there he found an abyss and that abyss dragged him into its depths and those depths welcomed him into its own depths and soon there was no above and no below and soon there was only void and in that void, it came across a dot of light that sucked him towards it forbidding him to escape and in that dot the clicks and cracks of rust-kissed machinery echoed against the infinite nothingness time and time again, time and time again, time and time again.
Time and time again.
There was a shriek. The cultists lifted their heads. Only a pool of darkness remained of the Old One, and that pool of darkness was being sucked into Carl's being through his mouth, eyes, and ears at a terrifying pace. In fact, all it took was a blink of an eye for the remnants of the Old One to disappear entirely.
"The master has chosen to use this sacrifice as a vessel," a cultist proclaimed and the rest cheered. "It will use it to communicate with us and give us instructions. It will help us find more of his kin so we can fulfill its will!"
Everyone turned to Carl, who stood in the heart of the room, his eyes fixed on the floor above. "The machinery!" Carl screamed and covered his ears. "Stop it. Take me out of here."
"Is that the will of the Old One?" one of the cultists asked. "I don't think it is. The sacrifice has been saying that since he came into the room."
"Tell that big fellow to growl again!" Carl shouted. "Again. Again. Again! Make it stop."
There was a crack like that of thunder. A dense cloud of darkness surged out of Carl's mouth toward the floor above. Chaos ensued as everything shattered. Boulders and pieces of machinery fell upon the cultists, cutting their screams, and entombing every single one of them.
Carl sighed a sigh of relief. The noise was gone. He looked at the graveyard around him and after a while found his way out of the room. Then, he went to an alley and lay on the concrete to sleep as if nothing had happened.
He was peaceful in his sleep, unaware he had absorbed an eldritch horror, unaware that he had used its might to his will, unaware that he had killed hundreds.
Unaware that it had not been just another night.
\----
JOIN /r/AStoryToRuleThemAll OR BE A CULTIST | 543 | When the cultists forced you into the room with the eldridge abomination, they assumed that you would instantly go mad as you tried to comprehend it. However, you are a grade A idiot and instead of trying to understand how it exists, you simply accept that it does, much to everyone' shock. | 1,548 |
Day 7, Time 10:38 PM... The hand that was instilled in the host is reacting differently from when it was first attached. Subjects left hand was removed and the bug like creature introduced to in it's place. Immediately, the bug opened it's wide mouth to encompass the wound left by the hand being removed. Since then it has been pulsing and emitting a faint light. Subject no. 332 has signed no signs of waking up after he was injected a sedative. The strange thing is, the sedative was only supposed to be effective for a couple of hours but it's been over a week. Judging from the dilation of his pupils his brain is very much active. Will continue to observe.
​
Day 12, Time 4:39 AM... Subject 332 still in a coma. No amount of medicine seems to wake the subject up. Currently, the bug that's been replaced with his hand has made some drastic changes. Originally, the bug looked like a leech with some carapace but now it has taken the shape of a three fingered appendage. It is still pulsing with a faint light. Tests from the lab show that the bone has completely fused with the bug. The tissues from where the wrist should be has changed in color to a dark grey with the same material as that of the carapace of the bug. I've requested a series of further tests to see what the capabilities of this new appendage will bring. If all goes well, this might promote me to senior director.
​
Day 14, Time 9:08 AM... The pulsing and faint light has subsided. The three fingers that formed has hardened and adapted the color of the subjects original skin tone. Subject 332 has woken up from his coma. When ask if he feels anything different, he just replied "Same old, same old". I've inquired greatly on how he feels and if he is hungry after having been out for two weeks. He replied with a simple "No, as a matter of fact, I feel better than ever!". Finally, when asked about his left hand, he became defensive, and stated that it's always been like this ever since he was little. Sure there we bullies that picked on him because of his hand but he stated that as far as he could recall, it's always been like this. Will continue to observe Subject 332. | 62 | There is a parasite that devours the flesh of the host, and replaces the lost flesh with itself. You're currently studying possible medical applications of the parasite. | 150 |
I used to be a king. Now I sit here in steel shackles, slowly going mad as I am continuously skinned alive.
I used to scream. Day in, day out. My throat became raw, as did my mind. After the first decade, it became clear to me that my days of freedom where over. There was no point to causing myself more pain, so I went silent.
They call it “fairy dust,” but in reality, it is neither. We call ourselves Fey, and we are not the small, dainty creatures one would picture. We used to be mighty, we inflicted great fear and panic amongst the humans. We were their boogeymen, the bedtime stories parents told their misbehaving offspring. It was only when that bastard colonel lured us in with promises of wealth and began harvesting our skin, that we became reduced to this state. Mere livestock, I can not bear it, and yet I have no choice.
It is not dust either. So-called “fairy dust” is actually the mana crystals that form on our skin, ground into a fine powder. The crystals form because of the abundance of mana in our systems, and serve as reserve of mana in case of emergency. They also give our skin its signature sparkle. Separating the crystals from the skin while the skin is still attached to the body is quite difficult, so the humans resorted to skinning us alive.
Most Fey die when they are skinned alive, as most living creatures do. I am the exemption, my royal magic renders me immortal and regenerates my flesh should I become injured. This gift served me well for thousands of years, allowing my queen and I to reign wisely over our people without fear of death. Now, it is my curse. I cannot die, I have no respite, the sweet embrace of death eludes me.
No so my fellow Fey. The humans found it to be most efficient to forcibly impregnate our women and harvest from the children. Over and over, I cannot imagine their pain, most definitely worse than my own by far. Many would accuse me of deception, exaggeration, or madness, and yet I have seen it.
The only respite I ever had was when my dear daughter Evangeline was put to death. She, in all the bravery I never had, staged an uprising. I was marched out from my cage and forced to watch as she was beheaded with a steel sword. Her last moments were spent crying out to me, begging me to save her. I could do nothing but sit there and watch, I have bared that guilt ever since. When I was marched to her death, I was taken through the facility. I saw firsthand the brutality of the humans.
And so, I languish here. In my steel cage, my mind fracturing, wishing for a death I know to be impossible. Or is it? I sense something on the edge of my magical sense. It is a skill I’ve not used in quite a while, and yet I know it to be true. I open my eyes, an action I’ve found pointless for many decades, owing to the fact that my cage never changed from its blank gray hue. In the doorway stands a figure, my wife Titania in all her regalia. It is possible, I have finally passed on and my wife waits for me other the other side.
I cry out to her, begging her to show me what lies beyond this mortal plane. To alleviate my suffering, to end this hellish existence. Yet, she refuses. She reminds me of the fact that has become my greatest contempt, that I am physically incapable of death. She removes my shackles and utters the words I never thought would grace my ears, “My dear Oberon, we are free.” | 10 | It turns out that one of the eleven secret herbs and spices is actually literal fairy dust. After decades of oppression, the fairies decide enough is enough, and they move to take down the Colonel. | 68 |
We were happy to be able to settle the old debates once and for all. Finally, the truth would come shining through!
We had a demonstration flight to see the trajectory from the ground first, and a tour of the rocket. The Rocket lift off and speed up out of sight quite quickly.
The tour was interesting too, we could see all the instruments and they even pointed out that multiple windows were available for outside viewing so we could take pictures of the pie in the sky.
They said we couldn't do any spacewalk or outside measurements because the cabin would be pressurized. That was a bit weird, but I guess we wouldn't need it. Our eyes would be enough. We did find it weird that, despite the cabin being pressurized, they said we'd have to use oxygen masks for lift off and landing. Because of g-forces they said.
We sat down and got ready for the flight. The countdown started and then the first signs of trouble appeared. I don't know what they put on our oxygen masks, but as soon as we lift off, we all passed out one after the other.
When we came to, they said we passed out because of the g-forces. But by our calculations that's impossible. We know how gravity works and we've trained for the lift off. They poisoned us. We didn't know why yet.
And then we saw. And then, we realized. The widows we weird, the image unrealistic. They must have moved us from the rocket that never took off to a simulator, they must have. There it was. A blue bowling ball. We were floating too, unsure how they realized that in a simulator. They must have cracked artificial gravity and not tell anyone a long time ago.
They didn't want to settle the debate and admit they were wrong. They were part of the conspiracy and wanted to silence us.
We wouldn't be fooled, we grabbed our instruments, and started working. We will be able to find something that proves we were moved and inside a simulator. We were able to get rid of one of the screens. And found ourselves pushed outside.
Then we knew. They had planned that as well. If they couldn't silence us, they'd kill us. Otherwise, why would they put the simulator in a gas chamber where we can't breathe... | 29 | a billionaire builds a rocket ship and invites a handful of flat-earthers (and their measuring devices) onboard for a space trip in an attempt to settle the matter once and for all. | 48 |
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