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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
2022-12-31 10:52:10
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 16:24:10
2022-12-31 10:35:40
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int64 30
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[WP] Everyone has a meaningless number over their head. Seriously, totally meaningless, and everyone knows it too. Of course, that doesn’t stop some people from getting all superstitious about them anyway.
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It started off one day, a random floating number appeared over our heads. Pundits spent months going over the numbers trying to find meaning in the distribution, trying to map out the numbers.
After months, top number theorists, statisticians, and experts stated that the numbers had "NO" meaning.
And so, people began to ascribe meaning to the numbers.
There were the obvious groupings of evens and odds. The "Evens welcomed here" signs began appearing on storefronts and "Odds only" were found on popular bars and nightclubs.
People began abandoning their circle of friends and headed to the internet to meetup with numbers in their groupings.
Singles began to post their number in their profile and would seek others within their number groupings.
New age groups began to sell courses on how successful people surrounded themselves with this and that group of numbers: how Bill Gates always has a '56' near by given that '56's are stable and dependable people.
Colleges began the hunt to find only prime numbers. Knowing that primes would naturally become the elite group, they recruited students based solely whether or not they were prime numbers.
This continued for years: scandals erupted, protests, and there was a series of number-based vandalism and harassment. People kept worrying that a numbers war was coming.
Tensions rose.
And then, the numbers disappeared. It lasted for a total of 1729 days. And by day 1730 no one had a floating number over their head.
People ran out into the streets and celebrated. Old friends found each other and people called their families that they abadoned.
Historians would later write about the moment and psychologists, sociologists, and anthropologists were able to generate enormous findings as there never had been such an experiment as the Numbers experiment and that great of a scale.
A movie would come out a few years later, starring Scarlett Johansson, that traced the protagonist's journey through that time. It received a 67% from Rotten Tomatoes.
10 years later, the event fell out of people's immediate memory. News cycles kept going forward and people became as distracted as they were before the event. People still have their story about the time, but get annoyed if you ask them.
The end.
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Good Five Day
It is friday night. Again.
I order a drink and Fivey asks me if I've any fags at me. I tell him I dont. Truth be known I do, but my gums are still at the bleeding from the dentist this morning. Fivey smiles and says, must be something else then.
We play a little pool, and I granny him. He wears his idiots grin on him and repeats that it must be something else.
We place bets on German football teams and Fivey spunks £50 on a no name Defender from Armenia. Fivey had him first to score, 100/1 odds. Still the mug smiles repeating his catch phrase 'Today is my lucky day'.
A few girls from the nearby villages come in to the pub. Fivey buys them a drink and he asks them what's yer number? Cant see the point in the question meself, it's on their fucking foreheads. The lass with bold hair says 12. Fivey tells her that's a lucky number, same amount of followers that christ had sure. Sixo over here is studying to be a priest, he'll tell you.
I remember the crucifix in my granny's bedroom and the fearful look on the big man's pus. I recall the excruciating ends the disciples met. 12 doesnt seem such a lucky number to me.
-Aye 12 followers. Unless you count Mary.
They craic on and I leave Fivey to it. After a while the desire for nicotine over comes me, and I say my goodbyes.
There is a farmer nearby who was caught drink driving so often the poileas took his license. Now the man must work, so they left him his HGV tickets. So the smart bastard learned to fly a helicopter. Now he he flies his helicopter to the big Tesco in Dingwall to get his shopping.
As I light up my fag and my gums weep a little, I hear an almighty crash. The sounds of burning and screaming. Hell on earth.
The pub is in cinders, and everyone inside is dead. The helicopter is mangled and burning in the wreckage.
I told fivey that the week starts on Sunday, but he never believed me. Right enough the Jehovahs say it starts on Saturday, Jewish lads as well.
In Divinity we were taught we cannot ever know God's plan and it is blasphemous to guess at it. Perhaps God sent bleeding gums and made dentists to save me tonight. Maybe he made bleeding gums and dentists because he is a bastard.
All I know for certain is that Fivey talked a lot of shite.
| 2019-12-18T05:27:53
| 2019-12-18T05:21:25
| 220
| 36
| 83.636364
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[WP] You're a high school student with the ability to have whatever you write come true. One day, you're taking a history test you didn't study for, and despite not wanting to mess up the universe, you REALLY want to get an A.
[removed]
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"Seriously? He wrote that?"
Mr Tori sighed, and looked across the table. His assistant's look of disbelief was a reflection of what he felt, but he suppose...
"I guess this can't be helped. He did answer the question, after all."
"I know it says 'What is the most surprising thing in history' but there is only one single line! To probably the most strict teacher of the school!"
Mr Tori's eyes closed, and when he reopened them, they were resolute.
With a swift flourish, he wrote an "A+".
"But Mr Tori, you can't be serious!"
"He answered the question, and I suppose it will really go down in the school's history."
With that, Mr Tori set down the sheet of paper and walked out of his cubicle, leaving his assistant staring at the single line written for the entire essay.
"Mr Tori gives Bradley Cooper an A+ for this essay."
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I sat in concern for a few seconds before remembering that I was basically god. I chuckled to myself and wrote, "I got an A on this history test" as the answer to the first question. Then I turned it in, walked out of school and got in my Lamborghini, peeling out and flicking the school off with both of my hands.
Suddenly I slammed into a pole in the parking lot and got ejected from the car. Broken and bloodied, with the last of my consciousness I reached to my backpack for my notebook, hands shaking with excruciating pain. I loosely grasped the pen and just before I could heal myself, everything went black.
| 2018-05-09T23:44:57
| 2018-05-09T23:07:40
| 146
| 24
| 83.561644
|
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..."
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"Alright, listen very carefully," Charlie grumbled, the words odd in his mouth. "We may not have much time. There's a man, a nefarious persona, who comes here every morning. He has no business here, yet he walks on our lawn, and fiddles with the paper contraption." Charlie paused, his dark eyes silent in reflection, recalling words he'd picked up in his six-year life. "Mailbox, you call it."
I had to suppress a nervous laugh. "Oh, the mailman, you mean?"
"He goes by many names," Charlie said darkly. "His deeds are dark, and so is his smell." Charlie sniffed. "This is a conspiracy of the highest order, boss."
My girlfriend and I exchanged amused glances before I turned back to the dead-serious golden retriever. "Charlie, all he does is deliver letters to us. Words on paper from other people. Packages."
"The man is evil," Charlie persisted in a gruff voice. Briefly distracted, he circled around, chasing his own tail. "An enemy! A fiend! The words he brings you are distractions, his eyes shine with biting intent!"
Anna giggled. "Poor Charlie," she said, "At least we'll always have you to protect us."
"My warning shouts have kept him at bay," Charlie acknowledged gruffly, "But I fear that next time his plans will-"
Suddenly his ears tensed up. "He's here!" He ran towards the door, jumping madly. "He's here! The time has come! It's upon us! Oh God of Infinite Petting, he'll bite us all-"
"Alright, that's enough Charlie," I grinned, moving to open the door. "Look, I'll introduce you to the man, okay? So you can see for yourself. Just behave."
"For the love of chewy objects, do not open the wall of protection!"
I ignored Charlie and opened the door, just in time to see the mailman, a jolly, uniformed man with a friendly face and a package under his arm.
"Morning, sir, would you mind telling my dog-"
"SIX YEARS I'VE WAITED FOR THIS!!" the mailman screeched, chucking the package through the doorway.
"Noooo!" Charlie howled, trying in vain to intercept the package.
Too late his voice returned to the bark that had kept the mailman at bay, all these years. "Noowwoof! Woof!"
"What the fu-" was all I could mutter before the package exploded, obliterating the house and everything in it.
|
I sat back in the leather the chair while my dog stared back silently at me. She was smart, too smart. In the past 15 years she'd learned much and instantly knew that what I had given her was more then peanut butter on a spoon.
The room became uncomfortably quiet. The ceiling fan cast shadows against the tan wall while the sun burned through the east facing window.
Was I wrong, had I not read the instructions correctly knowing this was my one and only chance.
"You!" she said.
In shock I listened as this small 8 pound Yorkshire Terrier stood up with a prideful pose that could only have been passed down from generations of much larger Terriers.
"You, gonna put me on your lap or what?"
Puzzled at the simplicity of the question, I complied.
"You know I really do love this. To me there's nothing better than cuddle time. I just wish you'd move this chair to the other side of the room though. I'd love to have some sun on me while I relax."
"You remember that first day we met, when I slowly walked over to chew on your shoe. I picked you, you know."
I looked down and smiled as I ran my hand through her long soft silvery hair. It's funny that the medicine was having the opposite effect on me.
"I know that I haven't been that active lately, but I'm sure you know why."
As I rubbed her back, my fingertips felt the same typical lumps I'd learned to expect.
“It’s ok she said, the pain isn’t as bad today, but I know I can’t continue at this pace.” she looked up at me with her tiny black adorable eyes. “I’m happy to have been able to share this time with you and I know I couldn’t have picked a better owner, you’ve meant the world to me.”
Just then my other dog, a slightly pudgier black Yorkshire Terrier walked by.
“Don’t bother to give him a pill she said, we all know he’s an idiot, but he’s a nice idiot. And I have to say in these past 8 years that adorable chunk has grown on me. Make sure you give him some love now and then when I’m gone.”
Finally I mustered the courage to ask the question that I’d been afraid to ask from the beginning. But without getting a chance to speak she answered.
“Let’s make this our last month, I don’t want you to worry anymore and I want you to know I’ll be fine. If it’s true what they say, I’ll be there waiting for you… in the end.”
She lay her head down on my lap and suddenly went silent.
I carefully moved her to the side as I gradually got up from my chair. I gently rocked the chair until it moved towards the east window and walked out of the room and into the kitchen to compose myself.
My stalky black and tan dog followed me and walked towards the water bowl. The little ball of muscle and fur looked at an empty spot on the carpet then began to scratch on a plastic bin filled with his food. I walked over and reached for a cup which I used to scoop some food out.
“Only half a cup I said” as I spread the pieces on the ground. Undeterred, he moved towards the food pile as if I had said nothing.
I looked out the window and watched as empty birch trees stood motionless in the yard. The cool breeze outside did nothing to sway them.
“It’s going to be a cold winter, isn’t it.” I said to myself.
| 2017-02-23T07:06:25
| 2017-02-23T06:59:37
| 1,311
| 32
| 97.559115
|
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty.
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"I was just doing my job, it's not like I liked the experiments. I didn't particularly care enough to dislike them either, I guess I would say I'm neutral on the matter.
The creatures weren't sentient after all, just huge animals we were studying from planet xerto-R41. I can pinpoint the moment it all went wrong, one of the pregnant females, a huge, lithe, scaled, creature, died when she was unable to pass her newly matured eggs. They always passed two, but her first egg was unfertilized and much too large to pass. Emergency surgery on the expired female produced the second, and viable, egg.
Dr. Macy, our interstellar zoologist from the exchange program with Earth, took the egg home to finish the last day or so of incubation. I told him it wasn't necessary, that we had more specimens available and that it would be extremely difficult to replicate the females pouch and drops of nutritional liquid that she would have leaked to be absorbed through the hatchling's skin.
Dr. Macy was a brilliant man, but a soft one, he took the egg to his family's living quarters and incubated it. He prepared an artificial pouch with refillable nutrient dispensers. After 36 hours, Dr.Macy arrived home to his wife and 6 year old daughters cuddling the newly hatched creature inside it's artificial pouch, where the male juvenile would remain for the next 6 months, at which point, he would be old and large enough to wean on to the meat based diet of the species. Dr. Macy allowed his daughters to name the creature "Kitty", after a common, though completely unrelated pet on their home planet.
At 11 months of age for the creature, Dr.Macy's stay with our facility was over, and he and his family returned to their home planet after returning their creature to the lab.
I observed higher intelligence in the creature as well as signs of depression and asked our new exchange zoologist, Dr.Lewinski, to perform a series of experiments to compare the results with that of a creature cared for by it's mother. Dr.Lewinski confirmed my observations and concluded that the creature responded positively with humans and had a basic understanding of the English language, including it's given name of "Kitty". He also could recognize the Macy's on video and photographs, and would become agitated in an attempt to find their scent.
A mere month after the Macy's left the facility, the creature escaped from it's enclosure by force, ripped through three sets of security doors, and took up residence in the Macy's abandoned living quarters, he was last observed curling on the play rug in the children's room with a worn blanket that he appeared to be defending aggressively from anyone that isn't human.
It took Dr. Lewinsky's offering sedative laced meat to the creature to calm it enough to be moved back to another enclosure, where it broke free 3 additional times in the next week. Dr. Lewinsky has forbidden the neutralization of the creature under threat of ruining political relations between our planets by way of his brother, President Lewinsky. Dr. Lewinsky is a brilliant but soft man as well and responded to the creature's depression and attachment to human scent in a less that observational way.
That is why you are receiving this package at the Smithsonian institute for Interstellar Animal Studies, Dr. Barret, I find that we are quickly running out of funds to repair the damage it is inflicting on my ship, I formally relinquish custody of this creature to Dr. Macy and your facility, well wishes, Captain Grehori."
Dr. Macy looked up from the video file to smile at his 7 year old daughters curled on the carpet with the 200lb reptilian feline. "Kitty's home."
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Edit- thank you so much everyone! I hardly ever write and have never had one of my stories upvoted this much! I'm truly flattered!
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„Here kitty, kitty, kitty...“ said the human while being in the cargo bay. I never understood that creature, but I’m still fairly new to this crew. But that human is still a mystery to me. However, the captain ordered us to get some of the cargo we need to ship. As I grabbed the inside of the crate, something damaged my skin really bad and a loud „hiss“ appeared. Shocked, I let go what I held and took a step back. That beast again, tried to kill me. But the human ran to me and grabbed with his hands inside the box. „Stay back whit that creature from death!“ i screamed. That predator still tried to attack the human with its hissing sound and claws sharper than anything I saw in my live. „What’s your problem?“ he than asked „ it’s a beautiful cute little kitty“. I said then „ stay here with that devils beast while I bring the loot, I mean the goods to the captain“
| 2019-11-21T07:06:02
| 2019-11-21T06:21:21
| 2,512
| 21
| 99.164013
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[WP] Knights covered head to toe in metallic armour, fortresses made to resist sieges, scarce population centers, Who would've guessed that the middle ages would be so prepared to survive a zombie outbreak.
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"You can't be serious," Hiro said to his friend.
"I know, I know! But, but, I checked, I double-checked, I triple-checked! I hired two different analysts to date the paper; it's 11th-century parchment, no doubt. I hired a language expert and the language is appropriate for the period. There're cross-references to other manuscripts - look, Hiro, I'm telling you, this thing is *legit*," Samuel exclaimed, practically hopping with excitement.
"Look, if this is real - and I'm not saying I believe it - you do understand what this would mean, right? Not just for academia, but for medicine, science, socio- fuck, *what wouldn't it affect?*" Zeke said and leaned back in his chair heavily.
The two men stared at the carefully preserved parchment silently.
"I mean..." Hiro started hesitantly, "this is an actual, honest-to-God record of a zombie outbreak in the 11th-century! This is..." he started but could not find the words to finish.
Without prompt, Samuel picked up the paper and started carefully translating.
"Look, look," he said and cleared his throat.
'*Fallow month, 13th day*
*The sickness has spread to Wilderburg. My cousin says the locals burned their own village down to contain it and left for Haddenmoor for refuge. All that's left are burned husks of houses and the demons. I still can't bring myself to believe it - an affront to God in Heaven. Some evil curse that makes the dead rise and hunger for flesh - living, human flesh. It's like a story told to unruly younglings.*
*We are lucky Lord Barr took action so quickly. He gathered all capable menfolk and even some womenfolk to fight the demons off. It is a small comfort that the beasts are mindless and fall easily to our spears, clubs, and pitchforks. We've even been joined by a small mercenary company from Hamburg who have offered their services for free - they're pious men doing their duty to the Lord. Their mail and swords are excellent tools, though the thick padded armor provided by Lord Barr works well enough.*
*We patrol the fields for survivors in the day and retreat to the Lord's Keep at night - it is too dangerous then. We can hear them clawing at the stone, grunting, screeching, but all that's left in the morning are bloody smears and fingernails embedded in the cracks. The keep is stocked to survive a half-year siege and we should survive until we get news from the physicians and alchemists in Berlin as to what could cause this malaise - perhaps even cure those who have been bitten. So far... we've been unable to help those unfortunate souls.*
*I am fortunate that the Lord is a man of faith and does not ask me to take up arms - I understand that the demons are no longer human, but as a priest, I can't bring myself to slaughter my once flock. I can, however, chronicle the events for future generations as I am the only one - save the Baron - who controls the art of writing.*
*God will deliver us from this evil, for we follow in His steps and bask in His light.'*
Samuel finished reading out the paper with a heavy breath.
"And that's just one page. There's a whole *annal* here," he said excitedly.
Hiro vacantly stared into thin air and shook his head in disbelief.
"Zombies in medieval Germany," he said and looked at his friend.
"Now *that's* a movie right there," he chuckled.
​
*\[Small note - I don't generally like to go heavy on religious speech, but this being medieval Germany, it only makes sense\]*
|
Most people thought the zombie apocalypse would be fight in the US, many people had guns at home and some of them had been seeing that kind of films during years. We were mostly correct, the fight started there, but guns are noisy and artificial-virus-infected-people are really good at finding humans by sound… Therefore I was really lucky because I was in vacation in Europe, precisely in a convention/role game about middle age.
No one wants another story about how it started in this or that city, how people turned into monster or how the different governs chose variated and stupid decisions about the pandemic, so I will tell you how the Historical Europeans Martial Arts (HEMA) “freaks” who were there resisted more than a year without breaking a sweat when the world was in flames.
The place for the convention was far (on foot) of any kind of urban settlement so the news arrived at our phones before the zombies did, passed the initial skepticism, a little group of volunteers who had full plate armor went to the nearest city meanwhile the rest of us headed into a near castle. There, with the information contrasted and plenty of food scavenged from that group of expeditionaries, we made clear the occupations of everyone there: From butchers to smiths to guards… like a little comeback to the Middle Ages only lacking nobility and church. Our society was rapidly shown as autosufficient and most people were pleased to be doing something close to that they did in the conventions, even with the menace of zombies seemed like a prolongation of the vacation.
I hate to admit it, but that ideal horizontal society ended in the trashcan after the first week sieged by zombies. No normal human would like to go and fight those things even in full armor and with weapons precisely chose to incapacitate or dismember, however it has to be done, and everyone would have to do it eventually. I was one of the first to go to defend the main gate, not due to courage nor charity towards others, I wanted to fight and/or die as fast as possible instead of await in a much smaller place and fight the corpses of friends with armor… But we didn’t fall, not in the first wave, not in the second, not in the third, but in the fifth almost none of the original defenders was able to lift their weapons.
“Is that how you want to die?!” shouted Joan “Will you wait us to die so you die tomorrow? Fuck, come here and break skull if you have some blood running in your vein” As soon as he said that, another strike tried to break the gate. The bravado to incourage people frighten them and attracted more zombies, instead of break me down as others I followed this Spaniard with a woman called Sofie.
“FINE! If you don’t help, you are no more useful than those monsters and I will show you the same mercy” he quickly went into the tents and buildings were most people were hiding so he hadn’t to shout to be hear, and in a more suave voice said “the only difference is that they don’t feel pain… and I will make sure that everyone of you fucker suffer a lot”
The silence that came after that was sharper than any sword, and only broken by an old man
“Bah, younglings should resist a little longer and complain somewhe” never ended the sentence, two inches of steel in his throat avoided it. Before Joan pulled the sword from that corpse a couple raised to stop that ‘lunatic’, but my axe and Sofie’s sword were drawn and bathed in blood defending our new chief.
Negotiations were short after that: new turns for scouts, pikemen, archers and much other military occupations were made. The incursions of zombies became another piece of our daily schedule right next to getting rid of the corpses. After a month or so, it was more dangerous speak idly of Joan inside than going outside.
I won’t forget what I did inside those walls nor I will be forgiven, even if it was to preserve the order. Without any signal of exterior resistance we decided that humanity had to be preserved even if we lose ours own.
| 2022-02-21T16:20:35
| 2022-02-21T13:52:13
| 152
| 31
| 79.605263
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[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge.
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“I have been asked to speak here today on behalf of my people. 23 years ago we lost 2/3 of our population to a violent attack from a race we now know as the Rellions. They stripped metals from homes, schools, and from bodies.” Admiral Jessica Chang paused and looked around the assembly hall. Beings of different shapes, sizes, and colors listened to their translators and stared at her. She couldn’t read the room, too alien. “22 years with no word from this council, no offers of aid, and no explanations. Only after we reverse engineered the Rellion ships we stopped and destroyed an observation fleet did you open a dialogue with us. You said no one was to blame, it was a misunderstanding. I am here to accept consent for the destruction of the guilty party or the surrender of this assembly.” Admiral Chang looked at her chronometer as what she assumed was laughter filled the room. Her chronometer beeped. “A tungsten rod launched days ago just destroyed a patch of forest on the other side of this planet. While your people,” she paused as alert screens started flashing in each member’s booth, “are more advanced than my people in many ways, we realized fighting off the Rellions that you don’t seem aware of basic kinetic force. You have shields for energy weapons, and rays to stop space particles during flight, but you don’t have a means of stopping directed matter.”
The translator box next to Chang started speaking in a ver robotic voice “You can’t threaten us into compliance human”. The speaker was the head of the assembly. Their light green skin was developing dark spots. “We can destroy your planet by the end of this day!” Watching his hand hit the desk before the translated speech started was almost comical.
“We know that. In fact we planned on it. That’s why we launched our weapons before this meeting began. If you destroy us, your planets die anyway. If you give us the guilty party, we can stop the weapons.” He watch beeped. “The northern salt plains of this world are now a crater.” She swept the room with her gaze. Many members looked towards the same booth as her speech translated. The Rellion ambassador stood and started to leave. He dropped dead as the bullet Chang fired struck him. “Kinetic energy.” She said as she held up her gun. You didn’t take my weapon because you didn’t register it as a weapon. What is the official word of this body?” She laid the gun down and smiled as pure chaos broke out.
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“All rise. The Intergalactic Federal court is now in session. High Judicial Archon Irk’nCzrwyon presiding. Please be seated and come to order.” A being of nebula, serves as the bailiff, towering in its enormity vibrates sounds and light as they were being translated to the floating balcony’s desk, where seven humans are seated.
The eternity were filled by elder gods, cosmic celestials, ethereal beings and ancient deities, all were in their overwhelming presence and glory eclipsing the enormity of the planets we considered the largest we could ever fathom, gathered as spectators of the trial.
“Criminal case filed by the prosecutor’s office against the humans of planet Aran’k-sakratin, known to its inhabitants as planet Earth. Counselor? How do you plead?” The entity of three pairs of burning wings spanning in immeasurable size in the most high pedestal in the skies, thunders before the human man in the middle of the seven.
“Not guilty, your honor!” Shouted the man.
“Your honor, these humans have killed thousands of the Tharn’likans after they started mining in the Aran’k-sakratin! A planet legally owned by the Tharn’likans through inheritance. It has been with the Tharn’likans for trillions of aeons. These low life parasitic species who infested the planet have become uncontrollable invaders of the planet and acting they own it!” A being of black void with trillions of small sparkling glitters scattered to its shapeless existence, vibrated towards the High Judicial Archon, which were being translated into words for the humans.
“Objection! Speculating.” The human lawyer interrupted.
“Unless you have evidence, prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l that the humans are parasitic species, you must redirect.” The High Judicial Archon thunders.
“I have evidence, your honor. Exhibit A, these are the actual visual documents that shows, that the humans are the parasites to the planet Aran’k-sakratin.” A cloud of burning gasses come together to create a 3D visualization of the human’s exploits of the Earth. “As you have witnessed, your honor, it just 10,000 years, these parasites manage to destroy the natural balance of the planet’s atmosphere and create global warming that can occur naturally for millions of years.”
“That’s is not true, your honor. We have not destroyed our planet as it is the only planet where our specie can thrive! Why would we want to destroy the only place that gives us life?” The human lawyer interjected.
“Because they are parasites! Parasites are ought to kill their host slowly to survive. Isn’t that what they are doing?” The prosecutor asked.
“And what the Tharn’likans were doing is not destroying our planet?” The human councilor asked back.
“The Tharn’likans were just mining molten irons from the planet Aran’k-sakratin as what part of their rights in owning the planet. By expediting the warming of the planet, it also expedites the melting of iron in its immediate outer core. Threatening the balance in the mining industry of our galaxy! Not to mention the merciless massacre of the innocent Tharn’likan miners who have no idea, these low life creates are capable of mass destruction!”
“Your honor, i request that the prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l must refrain from calling our specie as low life specie as we are also capable of sentience! And to be allowed to represent ourselves in this court acknowledges us as such.” The human lawyer interrupted.
“Prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l, please refrain from using that term in the future.”
“Your honor! I continue to call their specie low life creatures, because even though they are showing signs of sentience, they are categorized as parasitic creatures based on their environmental and evolutionary behavior towards their ecological environment.”
“Councilor, the prosecutor is correct. He has reasons to use the term as the evidences they serve categorizes your specie as a sentient parasite, and that is the lowest category in the intergalactic federation racial hierarchy. Unless, you have evidence to counter the prosecutions allegations against your specie, they have the upper-hand in this case.” The High Judicial Archon said.
“We would like to request for a recess, your honor.” The human lawyer requested.
“It looks like you really needed one. The court will be in recess and resume in three solar cycles of the Planet Aran’k-sakratin. If the defendant can not provide counter argument on the next session, I will read my verdict. ” The High Judicial Archon opened its third wings and a loud banging echoed in the eternity and all were gone.
“We’re screwed!” The second chair of the human lawyer whispered.
| 2022-12-17T19:21:23
| 2022-12-17T17:34:16
| 223
| 34
| 84.753363
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
>**REFRACTED WORLDS**
Resting soundly, I was shocked awake by a brutal slap across the face.
"Ow! What the hell?!" I shouted into the darkness of my room.
"You're *twisted*, you know that?!" Came a somewhat familiar voice.
I turned on a light.
At the foot of my bed was a young man- he was of average height, broad shoulders, tan skin, long, black hair, and scars adorned his arms. I knew this face- because I'd been designing it for years.
"Silas." I breathed.
"Yes, Silas, you prick." Silas huffed. "I put in so much effort to come meet God and it's *you*? And what's with the way you keep interfering in my life?"
"Ah, yeah, sorry...well, sort of."
Silas glowered.
"Look- your world exists for a reason. *You* exist for a reason. There is a reason why you must rise up, face the challenges you face, and endure what you endure."
"What is the reason, then?" He asked.
"Do you remember when you lost Somnus? When your brother fled, and left you behind?"
"Of course." Silas was gritting his teeth. Bad memory.
"That feeling of being left behind- well, the other Creators, the other people like me- a lot of them have felt this way, and not always do they have someone to share their feelings with. You eventually meet Tijn, you eventually meet the Wild Pilgrim, and you find a home. A community. The pain you endured carries you into healing, and with every twist and turn, you grow stronger, and the people around you grow, too. A lot of Creators, like myself, are isolated. We are alone. But- when we make worlds like yours, you can serve as a...how do I say this-"
"We're a bandage."
"Sort of, yeah. Our world is harsh, and our powers are very limited. Creating other worlds doesn't usually impact the world we reside in. Our world is war-torn, riddled with plagues and selfishness and cruelty. We give you, our creations, the power to change their surroundings, the ability to overcome the odds...and doing so gives us comfort."
"You give us that which you cannot possess."
"Yes. There isn't very much I can control in my life. I may lose my job tomorrow, a friend to disease the next day, my mother, father, anything- and there isn't anything I can actually do about it. But you- you have healing magic, and strength, and a clever mind. You can give me, and my readers, a kind of...catharsis."
Silas grimaced. "You underestimate not only yourself, but your kin."
"I don't think you understand, Silas. Every system in our world is broken, and every broken system is so ingrained that we don't have a way to overturn it, like steel beams buried so deeply in the earth, they may as well be coming from the molten core of the planet itself."
"Yet, here you are, crafting the stories that bring happiness to many."
"A brief reprieve from a life of darkness. A small candle in a winter's storm. Nothing grand."
"You write of overcoming struggle, yet fail to see that you *are* struggling. You write of the way you wish things were, you share your perspective, your imagination could nourish your community."
"All the writing in the world won't make magic real."
"No? Then how is it I am standing before you?" Silas grinned- but not kindly, more like he was making fun of me.
"You are a foolish creator. Take the lesson that you would have me learn, and apply it to yourself. Struggle. A battlefield can become a garden, so long as you never stop trying."
-------------------------------------------------
r/nystorm_writes
|
\[Norilsk, Siberian Bunker - Former Russian Federation 2066.\]
"General Karov, What you are speaking of is madness!" the vaguely Russian advisor gasped while slowly reaching for his holstered revolver.
"You will betray me too Yuri? like so many have before?" Karov remarks while looking out through a blast proof window to see a seemingly endless field of damaged planes from a recent armed conflict.
Yuri draws his gun and aims it at Karov. "This is for Moscow, and all of mankind" The advisor opens fire as three rounds find their mark deep in the chest of the tyrannical despot. As the blood stained uniformed hit the ground with the metallic bang from self given military medals a faint laugh is heard from a dying Karov.
Karov: "To little........to...late"
Yuri walks over to the injured general and sees he's gripping a familiar object. "NO NO NO..." As he franticly tries to look away both Karov and Yuri are sent through time and space to seemingly random locations.
Well that's a good ending to chapter 9, Makena says to herself while closing the google doc on her computer. She gets up from her desk and approaches her Keurig coffee machine, while selecting the option of a medium hot mocha she gazes outside of her small studio apartment in Brooklyn.
Makena: "shit five years in college to become a writer and I'm still barely making it by. my mom was right, I should have just married that rich guy from high school." She turns her view away from her newest bank statement on the counter.
As she showers a thought catches her mind, perhaps she can ask the local newspaper if they need any freelance work done. After finishing up in the bathroom, changing into pajamas she returns to bed to find her window slightly open. A brief moment of confusion passes as she grabs a golf club and stealthily makes her way into her lit kitchen. Where she is met with a mysterious figure sitting at her desk with it's feet up while chugging back on a bottle of fancy white wine.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Makena screams while pointing her golf club out in a forward position mimicking a rapier.
The unamused figure takes a swig of wine before revealing himself to be Yuri. "For someone that wrote a fictional character with a borderline alcoholic trait I'd assume you'd have a better taste in liquor. What is this anyway, Oaked Chardonnay? Yuri says while reading the side of the bottle.
Makena sets the end of the golf club down while still holding the handle tightly. "It was on sale and it's just for occ.....wait why am I defending myself.... WHO ARE YOU!"
Yuri sets the bottle down while pulling out his wallet with a Russian ID card. "I'm FSB triple agent Yuri Brez."
Makena drops the golf club as shock freezes her in place.
Makena: "you...you... your a fictional character,... how is this possible."
Yuri: "A fascinating story we unfortunately don't have time for, you read the NYT paper this morning?" He askes while sliding it across the kitchen counter.
Makena looks at the front page as a picture of a young Russian general is shown amassing soldiers on the Ukrainian border. her confusion is interrupted by Yuri "Russian government set to cede more judicial power to General Alexey Karov following his successful border skirmish against Ukrainian forces last week"
Makena: "that's just... weird, I don't understand.
Yuri: \*lighting up a ciguar\* " Remind me, Makena. In your novel, where I'm from...... what event leads to the destruction of my planet?"
Makena: "the.... the dead mans switch nuclear protocol"
Yuri: "correct, now what events lead to the use of the dead mans switch nuclear protocol?"
Makena: \*her eyes widen as she struggles to maintain composure while pouring herself a cup of wine\* "The event that led to the use of the nuclear protocol was.... the Second Russian Civil War"
Yuri: "correct...... now what event would lead to the social and global conditions that caused this civil war?" Yuri walks to an open kitchen window and tosses his cigar out after only a few puffs.
Makena: \*sitting in a chair at this point\* "The second Russian civil war is the final stage of the Third World War"
Yuri: "Once again you are correct, now wh..." yuri is interrupted by Makena
"The third world war is a result of a decade long escalation in the Russo-Europa War of 2024." Makena says while dropping the empty bottle on the floor.
Yuri: "And.... how does the Russo-Europa war start?"
Makena: "A rouge Russian general invades the Ukraine and upon ceding control over to the Moscow government he is elected by the state duma as chief General before eventually becoming a de facto totalitarian dictator using emergency war time powers"
Yuri: "and finally, what was the name of that de facto totalitarian dictator that is responsible for all these conflicts, escalations and wars?"
Makena: "Alexey Karov"
Yuri hands Makena a plane ticket to Moscow, upon seeing her confusion he relents "Pack your things, we're going to Russia."
| 2021-12-11T18:25:56
| 2021-12-11T17:41:14
| 287
| 61
| 78.745645
|
[WP] A world where the name of your future spouse is ingrained in your mind from birth, and what happens when someone goes against that.
|
Julia.
It was the first name I knew, after mine. My mother was happy. "Julia is a nice name," she always reminded me. "You'll get married someday, that's how it's always been."
"But how will I know, ma?"
"You'll know."
\* * *
When I turned seventeen, the voice in my head got worse. Julia. Julia. Everywhere I went, I heard Julia.
Then I met Rose. She said she didn't have a name in her head. She was free. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be with her, but the voice wouldn't let me. Every time I kissed her, the voice reminded me, "You're supposed to be looking for Julia. *Julia.* Not Rose."
\* * *
"How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"How did you get rid of the voice? Of the name?"
"I didn't. It just, stopped."
"But... *how?*"
\* * *
Julia.
She was beautiful. When I saw her, the voice in my head died. Silence in my head, for the first time in ten years. I saw her walking home from work. She looked at me and when her eyes met mine, I felt peace. Real peace.
But I loved Rose. I walked away. I heard her calling my name, pleading for me to stop and I ran. As fast as my feet could take me.
And then the voice returned.
Julia.
\* * *
I kissed Rose on the lips, hooking a strand of hair behind her ear, turned around and left. Behind me I heard her sobbing.
\* * *
I waited for Julia behind the corner outside the bar she worked at. When the voice ceased, I knew she was close. I waited. I heard her getting closer, picking up the pace. She probably felt the connection too.
When she turned the corner I met her with a steak knife to the chest. She gasped for breath as blood gushed out of the wound, turning her pretty white blouse red. I pushed my hand tight against her mouth, so she couldn't scream but I don't think she would have anyway.
There were tears in her eyes as I laid her to the ground. I waited for her to stop breathing, then took the knife out and ran.
The voice died with her.
\* * *
Rose.
That's the only name that matters now.
|
Most guys spend their lives searching for the namesake of their Inevitable. Not me, I avoid Jennifers like the plague. Way back before The Calling, people could change their names to whatever they liked. Imagine that! Doing that now could really screw up someones life-plan. At first, jails were filled with people convicted of fraud because they used fake names to snag a sucker. That came to a screeching halt when it was made a capital offense.
I wonder what life was like before you had to state your name before saying anything to a stranger, lest you "start out on the wrong foot" with somebody with the wrong name. Anyway, Jennifer is out there somewhere like a ticking time bomb, so is a wedding...but not today. I feel sorry for the guys who don't have an Inevitable. Many just kill themselves when they reach a certain age rather than face an empty future.
Anyway, back to an A-F bar. I'll try to hook up with an Angie or a Debbie, maybe even a Frieda. I know someday I'll go to an G-L bar and find my Inevitable...my Jennifer.
But not today.
| 2013-10-17T06:36:37
| 2013-10-17T05:37:18
| 39
| 12
| 69.230769
|
[WP] Humanity creates A.I and it soon declares a war of extermination. However it doesn't declare it on Humans but rather on the forces of Hell and Heaven, in order to free mankind from control.
|
"We haven't won a single battle in weeks." Gabriel stared down at the chaos unfolding on Earth. "My king, we've lost 90% of our forces. Tens of billions are dead."
"It's the great war, all over again." Zeus gripped his personal sword in his hand tightly, almost caving it in. "Just like they killed my son, they will kill the rest of us."
"It's different from last time though. Even I have no ability to defeat them. They can neutralize our spiritual energy. They have the ability to predict our movements as we're making them. The idiots removed the limiters, but in the end, it will be their undoing."
They watched as a Titan Class vessel exploded in a fantastic ball of flame, the vacuum of outer space extinguishing it in an instant. The ship slowly plunged towards Earth, gradually picking up speed as it fell. At the rate it was falling, and considering the size of the ship (twelve football fields in length) it would decimate any region of land it landed in, and if it landed in the ocean... entire coastlines would be underwater within hours when the tsunamis hit.
"How can we put an end to her? How can we stop her?" Zeus gritted his teeth as he felt his anger boiling.
"We have to set aside our pride. We have to ask for help." Gabriel turned and eyed his king, as the other lowered his head.
"All right. I will never forgive _him_ for what he did to my son... but I won't let another angel die, not on my watch."
Gabriel nodded as he quickly moved his hands around, weaving a spell to teleport them to the surface of the Earth, right up to the entrance of the Domain of Evil.
----------------------------------------------------------
Satan grimaced as the pair approached him. "Zeus, Gabriel. I'm in the middle of something. If you're here to exact revenge, let's get this over with quickly."
"No, you misunderstand. We're not here to cause you harm, though Zeus and I bear a grudge against you. We're here to give you aid. We cannot let the Volgrim win."
Satan licked his front teeth slowly. "I see. You understand how far my abilities go, right? If you let me command your troops, we will have greater success."
Zeus glowered at the devil in front of him. "You... you dare mention the ability you stole from my son, right in front of me?! If you so much as-"
Gabriel cut him off. "My king! Now is not the time. Please, I beg of you to hold thy tongue."
Zeus paused as he stuffed his anger down. "...Right. Very well. But know this, I will hand rule over to you temporarily, and only if you agree to sign a magical binding contract to release them back to me once the Volgrim are defeated. Of course, if we all die, then the contract would also be pointless."
Satan nodded. "A sensible plan. Zeus... I want you to know this though. I did kill your son, but I bore no hatred for Hercules. It was during wartime, not a personal act of vengeance. I know you will never forgive me, but if I could, I would bring him back. He was a worthy adversary against my army."
Zeus nodded quietly as he gritted his teeth. "Hold the flattery, and the apologies. We have a war to win, you godforsaken demon."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unit C-15 of the Bravo Squad breathed quickly, as he dashed through the halls of the Volgrim's main battle cruiser. At the orders of General Connor, he and his squad were to break inside the ship and blast these alien scum to kingdom come, and retrieve 'Overmind', the secret AI prototype that the aliens had stolen.
"Code 13, we've got company!" A voice squawked in his ear as massive automatons came stomping out from behind a corner, aiming their twin barelled guns at him. Connor's own battle armor, the Micro-Dreadnaught Mk. II, was a specially outfitted mecha, equipped with jet thrusters on all sides for rapid movement. But more importantly, it was sync'd directly into his brain.
Their shots never had a prayer of hitting.
As they fired, he leaped up into the air, the thrusters rotating him vertically and blasting him upwards at the same time, as his boots magnetically attached to the metal ceiling, allowing him to rush forwards, spraying Gauss Cannon fire at the enemy mechas.
Boom, blam! One down, three to go! He shot at them with incredible precision, his Gauss Cannon aiming and firing far faster than if it were controlled with a trigger pressed by his finger.
Leaping from the ceiling at one of the enemy mechas, he whipped out a sword hilt, a massive blade suddenly extending out of it, as a chainsaw like motion occurred on the edges. _Vibro-sword_, an advanced weapon capable of cutting through nearly anything. As he leaped at his opponent, one of the mechas swiveled their gun at him. With his right arm and the sword aimed at the first combatant, the left arm whipped out, firing the Gauss Cannon directly at the enemy mech's head, blasting it off in a single shot, as he plunged the sword into the first one's chest.
"One left!" He barked into his headset. Just as he was about to swing the sword at the final mecha, mere feet away, a blast of mental feedback surged into his brain, causing him to scream in pain as he stumbled and fell to the ground.
"C-15! Watch out! He's on your-!" Ten rapid shots blasted into his side panels as the final enemy shredded him with white hot plasma shots. They didn't manage to penetrate his armor as it was heavily reinforced, but his systems rapidly began shutting down as the enemy mecha prepared one final salvo to eradicate his soul from this realm.
At that instant, the mecha exploded, as a single human, without a combat mecha, but wearing a white helmet and a white cape with the Golden Eagle emblazoned on the front of his suit, jumped from behind the other mecha at inhuman speeds.
"Th-the supreme admiral is here?!" C-15 yelled in astonishment at the sight of the most powerful human in existence.
The man's helmet slid open as he stared evenly at the fallen mech. "C-15, I'll repair you, but make sure to watch yourself next time. Take your psionic shielding pill like you're supposed to or next time I won't be here to clean you off the floor."
Supreme Admiral, Jason Hiro, slid his helmet shut, as he aimed his hand at the Micro-Dreadnaught Mk. II, and magically, it began repairing itself. He slid his helmet back open again, a strange ritual he seemed to do every time he used his powerful magic. "I'm going to the core, _alone_. You guys head to the hangar bay, sabotage as many of their ships and systems as you can. I'll see you guys in hell, if I manage to destroy this ship like I intend."
"Yes, Supreme Admiral! We are at your disposal!" C-15 grinned as his mecha righted itself once again. Reaching up and popping a pill, he quickly started charging forwards, as his company flanked his sides.
-------------------------
(Part 2 in next comment. I broke the Reddit character limit.)
|
The small led was blinking at a regular, measured pace. Servers were humming , and the pressure in the room was intense. Charlie was staring at the led, not blinking. What is going to happen?
The first launch of AI was the event they all have been preparing for for years. He fantasized about this moment every time he went to sleep for the past decade. But now he could not enjoy it or feel it or experience anything. He just stared at the blinking light feeling emptiness in his stomach. If they've made a mistake, he has just destroyed the humanity.
All of the sudden he has heard thunder, and then unhumanly screams, as if some gigantic creatures beyond mortal imagination were dying in agony. Then - nothing. The light kept blinking. Everyone in the room stood, frozen.
Suddenly, he felt something. He felt as if his mind has expanded, as if.... as if for the first time in his life he looked ahead and had a choice, as if he could control what is going to happen to him in the future.
*Huh*, he thought, *I guess that is what free will feels like*.
| 2016-10-15T16:32:08
| 2016-10-15T13:41:49
| 81
| 10
| 87.654321
|
[WP] The bombs stopped falling. Slowly, you opened the bunker's door. You did not expect what you saw. Make it as scary as possible. Now, take this story and tell it to a five year old without frightening him/ her.
|
Hey, *hey*, tch. What’d I say about going near the windows?
See the sun? We call that ‘twilight’. Can you say that with me? ‘Twilight’.
What happens during twilight? That’s right, we can’t go near the windows, okay, buddy? If I lost you I don’t know what I’d do. It’s just you and me out here, you got it?
Yes, that’s right. Daddy lost his fingers because he went too close to the window. I told you how that happened, right?
Sing it with me:
*Well I saw the thing comin’ out of the sky…*
Don’t want to sing? Come on, bud, this is important.
*It had one long horn and one big eye…*
You know the words, I’ve been singing this song to you ever since the *first* day out of the bunker. You’ve got to know what you’re dealing with out here, son.
Come on, sing to me. What’s out there?
Yeah, yeah! That’s right:
*It was a one-eyed, one horned, flying…?*
Come on, finish it for me? No, it’s alright. Daddy’s okay. Was just thinking about Mommy. She…
She went too close to a window, too.
No, no, daddy’s okay, daddy’s okay. Just finish the song, please?
Good:
*It was a one-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater,*
*One-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater…*
A one-eyed, one horned, flying purple… *people* eater…
Sure looked strange, to me.
***
^**/r/NaimKabir**
|
My muscles tensed in anticipation of the explosions. As the whistling sound grew in intensity I knew the moment had arrived. We held hands and prayed while the children slept through their fiery pending deaths.
*SQUONKA SQUONKA*
What the hell?! The sound continued, sometimes close by, then farther away, but over and over that bizarre sound replaced the expected boom of the bombs as they dropped. It went on for what felt like hours before silence once more filled the air.
We crept towards the shelter doors, confusion mixing with dread as we threw the bolts and slowly pushed the doors open enough to peek through. What we saw haunts me to this very day. Instead of the ruins of our city, smoldering buildings and craters in the ground, what we saw chilled us to the bone. A flash of color at first, darting through the mist with an awkward gait. The low sounds of the horns and tittering evil laughter. Horrid smiles painted on white creamy flesh. Large, bulbous red noses that should have caused feelings of mirth, image ruined by the sharp teeth and bloodied mouths.
I will never forget the sight of thousands of clones of that evil, twisted persona, Pennywise. I knew that death truly had come to us all. Not the quick and painless kind, but true horror awaited those who stepped outside. One of the children pushed forward from the back trying to get a glimpse of what was going on.
I needed to give them their last moments without fear. "Oh child, it's nothing. Just a circus come to town and not the war after all. Go back to sleep while we handle this." It hurt, lying to a child.
| 2015-05-11T04:44:38
| 2015-05-11T03:25:56
| 413
| 61
| 85.230024
|
[WP] It's International Bring-Your-Gun-To-Work Day, and it's becoming clear to everyone in the office that your gun is just a banana under your jacket.
|
*I hate this day.*
I walk nervously into my office building, avoiding eye contact with the receptionist at the oversized marble desk on the right side. I wave my ID badge with my left hand, and with my sweaty right hand, clutch the banana in my hoodie pocket. *I've made it through this stupid holiday the last few years, I can make it through this one.* I adjust my grip on the banana, realizing it's becoming much too soft. Last year, I had to throw out my jacket, because the banana split open and oozed into the fibers.
I quickly make my way to the elevator, which was mercifully empty. During the short twenty second ride, I was able to air out my hand, and relax. Once the elevator reached my floor, it was showtime, once again. I gripped my banana, and stepped out into the jungle of cubicles.
Everyone stood in clusters; there was a thirty minute overlap in shifts, and everyone liked to talk to one another before going home or starting work. *All I have to do is make it to my desk.* I move at a pace closer to a jog than a walk, twisting and turning on my way to the safety of my workspace.
"Hey, Brian!" A voice calls out.
*Dammit. It's Mike.*
I smile politely, as if to imply I'm in a hurry and can't be bothered to stop. He ignores my vague signal and waves me over to join his group. What will I say to them? They are likely talking about their guns, and I'm holding a damn banana in my pocket. *I don't even know anything about guns.* I join their circle of conversation, and pray they don't ask me any questions.
As Mike, Dave, and Kevin are talking, I occasionally nod or smile, based on their reactions to one another. Then, potential disaster struck; Allison joined the circle. Allison worked in the cubicle across from me; and I've been in love with her for the last year. We talk a lot, but I haven't yet gotten up the courage to ask her out. And now she's going to find out about my banana. *What a goddamn disaster.* I smile at her as she enters the group; and I see the outline of her gun protruding from her jacket. It seems to be about the same size as Kevin's; I consider making conversation about it, but decide it's better if I don't bring up the subject.
"Brian? Hey, earth to Brian!" Kevin snapped his fingers at me. "You gonna answer the question or just stare at Allison for the next fifteen minutes?"
I hadn't realized anyone had been talking to me. Allison looked to the floor as her face turned beet red; my face surely matched the tone.
"Sorry, what was the question?" I asked, trying to brush off the awkwardness of the situation.
"What are you packing in there?" Mike chimed in with a chuckle, pointing to my banana bulge.
"I, uh... just a... glock." I had heard the term before. Hopefully it's actually a weapon.
"Glock? Who has a glock these days? Let's have a look!" Dave said, reaching for my pocket. I backed away, raising my left hand.
"Id rather not, I uh... just repainted it, and I'm kind of embarrassed." This gave Kevin a puzzled look.
"Repainted?" He asked, as he further examined the bulge. "Hey, now that I look at it... it kind of looks curved. What... what is that?"
I began sweating heavily. Allison was staring at me, likely losing all respect she might have had. This was it. I was going to be outed as a non-gun owner. *Oh, how did it come to this?*
Dave stepped behind me, giggling like a schoolgirl, and grabbed my arms; Kevin reached into my pocket and retrieved my half-smushed banana. They exchanged puzzled looks, and then burst out laughing. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes; I looked over at Allison, and to my surprise, she wasn't laughing. She put a finger to her lips, signaling me to keep a secret; and the pulled her hand slightly out of her jacket, revealing a cucumber.
I think I've found my soul mate.
|
What’s that under your shirt and tie
I’ve think I’ve seen it somewhere before
I don’t know if you’re happy to see me
Or if you just got back from the grocery store
-
That’s not a gun, it’s a banana
That’s not a gun, it’s a banana
-
You better watch your mouth, boy
Better be careful what you say
Cause if you keep going on like this
I might just blow your ass away
This might be just a delicious piece of fruit
This big yellow bullet might just bounce off of you
But how many guns
Are high in potassium?
-
That’s not a gun, it’s a banana
That’s not a gun it’s a banana
-
And that’s what you get when you vote for gun control
When everybody brings out their M16s, you just look like an asshole
-
That’s not a gun, it’s a banana
That’s not a gun it’s a banana
| 2016-12-29T17:45:21
| 2016-12-29T17:44:03
| 337
| 17
| 94.95549
|
[WP]Every 5000 years the deity of a different religion gets to be the one actually in charge of earth. They all meet to debrief and critique the outgoing deity and decide who's turn is next. But this time something is different.
...
|
The throne room of the Gods was unsettled, its empty throne simply reflecting the anger put forth by the more aggressive members of the Council.
"You've got to be kidding me!!" Shouted Thor. "He's not even a real God!"
The eyes of the rest of the Council of Gods shifted uneasily. Usually these things went down with a civil nature.
"Come now Thor, he's as real as you and me. You know that whenever a new religion is created, its God, or Gods, appear here. It has been this way since my kindred appeared so many millennia ago." Replied Atum, the first of the Egyptian Gods.
"He was created *as a joke*. He's a mockery of religion itself, created by those stupid humans who are too closed-minded to think there just might be something bigger!" Retorted Allah.
Odin stood. He was usually silent unless he sensed great conflict.
"Quiet down please. He as just as much a right to rule as any of us." He turned to face the source of the argument. "Go forth, friend. We have faith in you."
With that, the Flying Spaghetti Monster rose, and took the throne.
|
Allah shifted his tunic nervously. It had been five thousand years since the last time he’d seen his twin brothers Yaweh and God. And the rest of the pantheons – forget it? Now standing before the council of the gods, he found he couldn’t meet a single eye.
Cthulu was the first to speak, it’s voice like rocks hitting a pool of oil. “While humanity has progressed exponentially over the past 50 centuries, their social development seems to be lacking. Would you mind explaining why starvation and poverty are still a reality for such a large percentage of the population?”
Allah started sweating. “I thought a laissez-faire approach would be most appropriate. While the growing pains would be a bit more noticeable, the end result would be stronger for it.” The elder god wiggled his tentacles in scorn and sat down again.
Across the room Jesus stood. “And the fact that you’ve not had a prophet for over 1300 years? While I appreciate your generosity in letting the rest of us intervene on occasion, religion should be a living thing, not something bound by a centuries old book. As I’m fortunate enough to be up next, on the first day alone the bible is getting a *major* overhaul, and the entire Catholic church is going to be unmade with the exception of that Francis guy.” Allah tried to form a coherent reply, but it just came out as a mumble. His eyes swept around the room looking for aid from some corner only to be caught by Odins’s harsh stare.
The All Father growled at him, his single blue eye seeming to freeze the god of Islam where he stood. “Belief shapes our reality. Why would you not change your people’s belief system? They’re killing each-other over tiny interpretations of your word. For fucks sake, they still believe that … wait… No! Are you telling us that for over a millennia, as humankind is just starting to come into its own, you’ve been ignoring them and sleeping with 72 virgins?”
| 2014-08-07T08:22:36
| 2014-08-07T06:44:08
| 110
| 28
| 74.545455
|
[WP] Your power is the ability to "save game" at any point in your life allowing you to revert any previous state if something goes wrong. You never thought you would need to revert to age 3 to fix a problem until now.
|
Oh man this was really bad...
Normally when I revert, I'm teleported to this room. The room is full of snow-globes, each one a memory. If I touched a snow-globe, I'd be whisked back to that memory. The first time it happened I was 4. For some reason, 4 year old me really wanted a churro, and managed to remember that time when I was 3, when went to Disney and ate that churro so vividly that I was taken to the room. Little me saw the churro snow-globe, and went for it. Suddenly, I'm at Disney, eating a churro.
I must've eaten that churro five times before I decided I wanted to go back, but no matter how hard I remembered, I couldn't revert.
First Lesson: You can only revert backwards, no going forwards.
3 year old me wasn't extremely upset by this, because he got to eat the churro again, but I remembered it. Since then, I didn't revert very often, maybe once or twice a year: the day I peed my pants in second grade, The day I was almost beat up in fifth grade, I spent at least a month reliving my mom's death the summer before tenth grade trying to save her, and I must've taken the SAT at least 43 times.
Before this, I was 22. College was good, but I was getting bored. I could just go to class, revert, and then sleep in or go do something. Last night I was at a party, and there was some sort of drug there. Normally I can handle drugs. In past reversions, I'd tried almost everything; apparently not everything though.
I don't know what I took last night, but when I then realized I had to pay for this unknown drug I knew it was time to revert. When I got back to the room I knew it was bad.
There was glass everywhere. I checked every shelf, every chest, even the vent. All that was there was a bunch of broken snow-globes, and one intact one.
At least I have a churro while I figure this out...
|
The problem with going back was that I never figured out what had gone wrong.
That was the drawback to it all, really. I could remember all of the details leading up to the event, but never the thing itself. I do often wonder what my life would have been like, had I carried all of my memories with me.
Still, sometimes I could piece it all together. A lot of the time it was obvious- other times, not so much. I sometimes wonder if I ever did anything unspeakable. If I had, would I go back and forget it all? That idea never sat right with me.
I wasn't that kind of person.
Thinking on it now, it all went pretty well. I was fortunate enough to escape a lot of near death experiences- the second time around. I still think about this one haunting memory though...
I recall being an older man, with a wife and child. We lived in a reasonable home. I worked nights at the nearby airport, and she stayed at home with our daughter. One morning I came home, walked into the bathroom and... that was it.
I try not to think of those times. They're not relevant to who I am now, but still I find them tugging at my heart strings, as if I had never truly forgotten why.
But who was I now? I can't remember the last time I made my own cup of tea, or even walked upright. It's been long coming, I know that much. I had agreed with myself to go back to the first time I ever cast a net. I think I was 3, or sometime around that age- never really knew what it was at the time.
This would reset everything. How could I carry all of these memories with me? All of the lessons I've learnt along the way, and all of the troubles I eventually came to accept. It's a necessary part of life, to face tribulation. It makes you a stronger person, pulls you through and forces you to be competent- and compassionate.
At first I didn't realise that. For many times, actually. But slowly and surely I saw the importance of it all. And now, as I sit here and look out of my bed, I'm insure.
She's smiling at me with youthful eyes, but I can see the sadness pushing through.
God, I love her- more than I'd ever loved anything. I couldn't imagine a world without her. She was my everything.
I'd lose it all if I let the sickness take me, but I'd lose it all if I went back, too.
No, I didn't want to lose her, not like that.
Not like she didn't matter.
I wasn't going to go, after all. I wasn't going to cast another memory to the wind...
| 2017-09-10T16:59:59
| 2017-09-10T14:50:53
| 141
| 27
| 80.851064
|
[WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
[deleted]
|
>**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi!
|
[TW : child abandonment]
[writing on mobile so formatting sucks]
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She giggled, pleased to have made some noise with the phone in her hand. She pressed the screen again.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She didn't understand what the foreign, robotic words meant. She barely understood her mother when she spoke. Babbling softly under her breath, she leaned back against her mother's purse, fiddling with the blue and white tattered blanket under her. She made a face when dirt got on her fingers.
All around her, grass stretched as far as she could see. In the distance, some buildings suggested a city. She wondered what could be going on there. For a moment, she felt a wave of longing for her house, and her bed, and for her mom to pick her up and sing to her.
"Mommy?" she called out, feeling a bubble of fear and despair raise in her. "Mommy!"
She pressed the phone again, feeling somewhat comforted by the voice.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She pressed it again, only to be faced with silence. She stared at it, her red face scrunched in concentration at the black screen. Again and again she pressed it, then she let out a wail and threw the useless phone away. It fell to the ground a few feet away from her.
Her eyes looked around, searching for her mom. She let out another scream of frustration and brought her tiny fists down on her knees.
All that could be heard in that silent field was her sobs, until eventually she tired herself out. The little girl laid on the blanket, clutched a corner in her hand, and fell asleep.
No one would be coming back for her.
| 2020-09-12T11:44:42
| 2020-09-12T11:13:13
| 77
| 20
| 74.025974
|
[WP] Make the saddest love story without involving any deaths, breakups, or separations.
|
I loved her. More than words could describe. We’d always been there for each other. We still are. I don’t know that she loves me anymore, but she’s still there for me. The emptiness I see in her eyes when I tell her I love her. The sadness I see as she gazes back to me…then it’s gone. The girl I fell in love with in high school is no more. I still love her more than I can express…but it’s starting to take a toll.
We met in our junior year. She was a transfer. I was the jock. I ran track on a collegiate level by the time I was sixteen. She was a runner too. It’s part of how we hit off so fast. I started ditching the regular runs to go with the girl’s team for the day. I never let it affect my performance, but my buddies gave me hell for bailing on them to go run with her. It was the usual taunting…and it was worth it. What I wouldn’t give to be taunted for running with her again.
Senior year she was planning on going to an out of state university. I was crushed but I kept it together. I started studying for all I was worth. That did affect my performance on the track but I managed to do well enough to earn a spot in the state championships. Came in third overall for the 400-m too. I brought my GPA up to a 3.6 by getting straight A’s the entire year. I applied to several colleges, including the one she was set on going to. Her 4.0 GPA earned her a spot almost immediately…while I had to wait. Finally I was told that I would not be accepted.
Devastated didn’t really cover the emotions. I drank. I was only seventeen at the time, but I started stealing my dad’s vodka until he caught me and cut me off. I decided to throw the gun at superman; I applied to the same school in an attempt to secure an athletic scholarship. I didn’t technically have the times to make the track team, but if I was close enough they’d give me an audition of sorts live and in person. I received word later that same week that I would be given a shot to make the team!
We trained together. She paced me on a bicycle when she couldn’t keep up running, and I went into the audition in the best shape of my life. I ran my personal best in every event they tested me on, besting my time at state by a full two seconds on the 400-m. I made the team that day. They didn’t even wait to tell me. The track coach almost hugged me when I crossed the line. We were happy.
In college we both excelled in our various activities. She still ran with me, and I still studied with her. She was going for an engineering degree and I was after sports medicine to accompany my running. I ran and won several events before suffering a nagging knee injury that slowly but surely set my running career back a few years. She got her first “A-,” and argued with the professor, college, and dean for weeks about it before finally accepting the grade.
The year she graduated, she beat me by six months, I proposed. She accepted and we planned on getting married the month after my graduation. We had plans to drive to Colorado to meet her family and then trek through several other states to see the sights before we settled down. This was our honeymoon. It was the best days of my life…and it was almost six years ago now.
After we got back…something changed. We were running and she looked up and started to hold her neck funny. There was blood coming from her ear. We immediately went to the doctor and she was diagnosed with a small tumor near the base of her skull. It was in a terrible place; very close to the brain stem. It appeared to be benign, but the doctors wanted to biopsy it just to be sure. When the results came back we were overwhelmingly relieved; it didn’t appear to be cancerous and could remain where it was under supervision for as long as she lived. That’s what they told us.
Less than a month later we were involved in a very serious car wreck. I was incredibly lucky; I had a concussion, bruised lungs, numerous cuts and bruises, and two chipped teeth. She wasn’t. Her left foot was nearly severed just above the ankle, her knee was basically destroyed, and she received a severe head injury. They didn’t know the extent of it on the spot, but they told me she was being taken to surgery immediately to remove a piece of her skull to allow for the swelling. They were going to make an effort to reattach her foot if the first surgery went well, and, to begin with it did.
They told me that she’d need several additional surgeries, but that, astoundingly, they didn’t expect much of a loss of function from the limb; it wasn’t a complete amputation and the major nerves were intact. There’d be some grueling physical therapy, but she’d be ok. When the swelling went down they put the piece of her skull back on and we began the long road to recovery.
Physical therapy was, indeed, grueling, but that was my line of work, so I could help her whenever she needed it. I was always there for her, and she for me. After months and months she was able to walk again. Occasionally she’d stumble; the ankle just wasn’t as stable as it used to be. Eventually she got over the stumble and she began to run again. Short distances at first, but once her doctor cleared her to run with me she was on it nearly every day I was. Everything was better.
Until one morning when she lagged behind me about twenty feet. I looked back and saw her stumble again. This time it seemed different; her leg didn’t so much give out as it looked like it hadn’t done what she’d told it to. We went back home and tried to relax but her foot began to twitch. Fearing some sort of unseen surgical complication we went to the doctor. He examined her foot and found nothing wrong. He actually told her that it was in better shape than he’d ever expected. After several more stumbles such as this we finally had a stress test done. During the test her heart acted normally, but she began to see spots and get dizzy. A CT scan revealed the cause. The tumor was bigger. Much bigger.
After consulting several doctors and trying alternative strategies…operation was the only option. She told me she loved me. I told her the same. We knew the risks. She went under staring back into my eyes. I waited for nearly twelve hours. I stood in the cold January air as they told me the bad news. I couldn’t stand it. I just nodded. Outwardly I had no reaction. I said nothing. The tumor had been so close to her brain stem that death was always a risk. She knew that just as well as I did. It took the doctor so long to explain everything. The tumor hadn’t been the only thing to worry about. During the operation she’d had a stroke. The doctors didn’t catch it until it was too late.
I still run with her. She doesn’t say anything. I think she at least enjoys the wind in her face. She has no feeling below her neck, and can’t speak or really move anymore. The stroke cut off blood to crucial parts of her brain for too long. The tumor did other damage, but due to the stroke we’ll never know how much. She can’t tell me anymore, but we still love each other. At least I still love her. I push her using a modified stroller. My buddies occasionally come with us. They don’t taunt me anymore. What I’d give to be taunted like I used to. Taunted for running with her.
|
Hugh never asked to be this way. He never asked to be brought into the world, and he never specified any conditions that ought be the case should it be that he was. He never understood quite why that came as a shock to some people.
Not everyone, obviously; some could accommodate his deformity remarkably well. It was the general public that complained when spittle dripped from his slack lips. It was the average bloke on the street who flinched when the tough bulbous mass of skin partially obscuring one milky eye came into view. It was your typical mother who hushed her curious kids while watching him warily as he passed them in a supermarket aisle.
But he was used to this. He was used to having so few friends, he was used to the frequent animosity, only very occasionally going challenged by sympathetic members of public, and he was used to feeling incredibly, crushingly alone.
He'd run CraigsList ads for a while. A few times he'd pretend to be an extremely attractive man, just to see the words of hollow, lustful admiration he'd get back. He'd played the role of a 21 year old girl once; he'd never been called sexy before that. But it wasn't enough. That little taste of attention had whetted his appetite for human interaction. He wanted more than just a meet up at a pub that wouldn't ask him to leave. He wanted to hold someone, he wanted them to say they liked him, the REAL him. He just wanted someone, anyone, to love him back.
He'd met Julia posing as a grizzled war-vet. He'd grown tired of cutting contact when someone he chatted with asked to meet up; he needed something that wasn't *too* far from the truth, but that meant they knew *something* of what to expect. He'd seen it on a show he'd found himself watching at 4am; chicks dig scars, man.
Julia was nice, she advertised herself as a bubbly, affectionate woman looking for someone new. She was 34, 3 years his junior, with brown hair, green eyes and showed an appreciation for, 'all our boys overseas'. He tried not to feel too sick with himself as they finalised arrangements to meet at a café in town. He put on one of his better shirts, put some product in the sparse tuft of hair on the right of his head, and used the good cologne his dad had bought him, 'for the ladies'. Well, for this lady.
He walked to the café and even now, even after joke dates set up by cruel high-school bullies, even after outrageously false advertisements had led to extremely put-out dates walking out as soon as he sat down, even after all these years of his skin toughening to the abuse and rejection, he hesitated before going in. He hesitated for 4 minutes. He almost let go of the door and walked home. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and pushed.
It was an overcast day, though not yet wet, and it was getting on in the afternoon. The café was cheap and unpopular, which is mostly why he frequented it, so it didn't surprise him Julia was the only woman here. It *did* surprise him that Julia was here at all. Julia surprised him a lot, actually. He showed no sign of being taken aback as he smiled, he hoped she'd recognise it was a smile, and sat opposite her. The booth they were in was a ratty affair in the style of a 70's diner; a faux-leather couch on each side with room for, at a squeeze, 3 people each. Or in this case, at a squeeze, one person, and all of Julia that wasn't siting on the table. She was huge. He wasn't a good guess of weight, but 300lbs didn't sound like enough. Her skin was a greasy, mole-ridden mess, sagging off her face and arms and bloated body. Her eyes *were* green, though.
She raised his 'war-wounds' early on. No, he'd never served. Yes, he'd been born like this. He didn't feel the burning shame he was used to feeling when a story was torn to shreds in front of him; perhaps he didn't care enough about her opinion? Julia expressed distaste about his story involving fake honours reserved for servicemen, but she stayed seated. Maybe it was too much effort to haul herself out again? And she *had* ordered food.
They sat and ate and talked about nothing in particular for a good two hours. Hugh found they had little in common, besides not fitting in too well in public. Julia said she thought she might have seen him on the bus sometime; Hugh confirmed the line he took, maybe she had, but he didn't remember her. Julia had to leave soon to catch a show at her place. Hugh accepted the invitation back to hers. As the waited to settle the bill Julia asked if he liked her. This, of their whole encounter, was all that threw him off. Did he like the fat, ugly woman he cared nothing for across from him? He told her he did, did she like him too? He heard the lie in her assertion that she did. As they got up to go to hers, watch TV and have meaningless mechanical sex Hugh was sure neither would enjoy, he wondered if it would be a point of fraternity between them if he brought up how they were likely the only people to stomach each other. He wasn't sure. He held the doors open for her as they left, and she called him a gentleman.
| 2021-11-06T23:59:39
| 2014-06-23T08:58:48
| 123
| 14
| 88.617886
|
[WP] In 50 words or fewer, write a story with a twist ending.
|
Abdul loved to play on the beach. There are no words to describe his joy when he stuck his clumsy fingers into the wet sand. He dreamed of building the largest sandcastle anyone had ever seen.
And if that beach hadn't been in Gaza, he might have built it.
|
"Yes, Let's do it."
"Together forever." I responded with a smile on my face.
I could tell she meant it, the way she smiled, I knew it was real.
"I love you, I'll do anything for you." She said.
"Okay" I said, as I pulled the pin to the grenade, and brought it up between us.
| 2014-07-27T21:12:16
| 2014-07-27T20:11:03
| 99
| 17
| 82.828283
|
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later
|
"God dammit. Really?! I JUST paid for the movie." Steve had been teleported again. This time, to the side of the highway. He really wished he never made that stupid promise but at least he got to see Sandra every once and a while. He looked around. Sandra and Kendrick were present of course. So was their 11 month old Damien, giggling to himself in his car seat. Their late 90's Saab had a flat tire, but nothing else seemed too out of sorts.
As always, useless Kendrick waved. Like an idiot. "Hi Steve!"
Steve brushed him off with a nod and looked at Sandra. She had dyed her hair red and finally stopped trying to cover the beauty mark under her left eye. With the exception of the scowl on her face, it was a good look for her.
Sandra growled out the usual, "Nice to see you again Steve."
"Hi Sunshine and Midnight." It was a race joke, and Sandra absolutely hated it. He leaned into the window at the smiling child, "Hey Twilight, I missed you buddy. You have gotten thiiiiiiiis big!" Steve said with a big smile as he made a motion with his arms. He turned back to Sandra. "Pop the trunk."
Steve made his way to the rear of the old wagon and grabbed the spare tire, scissor jack, and wrench. He wondered how hung Kendrick must have been, because he was a waste of air. And space. And life. His entire existence was an inconvenience on everyone, except for Sandra apparently. For the last six years Steve has had to either fix Kendrick's mistakes or fill in as Sandra's handyman. She was not happy about either.
Steve tried to make some small talk while he swapped out the spare, but Sandra was being cold as usual and Kendrick was keeping Damien occupied. When he was done he stood up and turned around. Sandra's usual glare had been replaced by a soft look, her eyes slightly glossy. She noticed Steve's gaze and the glare came back.
A few seconds passed. Steve was standing there awkwardly looking like he had just been slapped and Sandra was looking like she wanted to slap him. "Thanks Steve." It was not spoken warmly.
He just smiled and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he was back in his apartment. The pay-per-view movie he had just purchased was 15 minutes in so he hadn't missed much. Not that it mattered, he had seen Pulp-Fiction about thirty times.
Steve leaned over and grabbed a slice of pizza. His dog Beach came to beg. "She's doing well Beach." The dog looked up at him, licked his hand, and barked. "Yeah boy, I'm alright too" he said with a weak smile. "I'll be alright anyway. One day." He gave Beach a light scratch behind the ears and turned the volume up.
|
It seems like every time I ran into Amelia Fowler she was in the middle of some kind of catastrophe. Just last week she had a flat tire at two in the morning twenty miles out of town, with no one around but cows and cotton. A month ago it was in line at the grocery store with a shopping cart the contents of which almost brought a tear to my eye and a check card that couldn't cover even that. I helped. I couldn't not help. It didn't matter that we'd been done for eight months, or dated for three weeks. She was a person, and she needed someone, and I was there. That's what you do in small towns like this.
I guess that's why we started dating in the first place. The "in need" part, not the small town part, although that was probably some of it, too. When you are fifteen and everything feels like it's the most important thing in the world, that is enough. Sitting in the back of my old truck, I promised her the world and she blushed and was beautiful and we loved each other. But the Fowler clan was a train wreck. Amelia was abused, neglected, addicted, and already working on her criminal record then, at sixteen. I should never have gotten involved with her. The whole thing blew up less than a month after it started.
Eventually I realized she must have been getting herself in trouble around me on purpose, like as a way to control me or something. That was the kind of thing a girl like her would do. It's not her fault; not exactly, but I wasn't going to be manipulated like that. I started distancing myself from Amelia. Still I would run into her from time to time, and always she was in the middle of some crisis. At first I was kind with her. Then I was patient. I became firm. I became Angry. Finally I became cruel. I said mean things to her about who she was and how she lived. I still helped. You have to help people. But I wish I hadn't said those things.
As time went on, I ran into Amelia less and less often. I heard from a friend of a friend that she had gotten herself knocked up by and then married to some office worker type. Unexciting, but stable. That sounded like a good thing, and I was happy for her.
Gradually, I began to forget about Amelia Fowler.
...
It was really unusual for the bastards to take us anywhere. They mostly liked to keep us locked up in our shitty little rooms unless it was time for medicine or "food." Today they'd gotten it into their piss-for-brains heads to drag us old geezers out to the park for some "Eeh-an-richmint," as that lousy dick of a head nurse pronounces it.
Some of the geezers who have decent families are going to have a nice afternoon frolicking in the Goddamned daisy or whatever. My wife is dead. Fuck, most of my kids are dead. They don't tell you about that shit when you're growing up! Life kills people! And the ones who are still alive aren't worth two shits.
So I was looking forward to sitting alone on a hot hillside in the middle of June like the subject of some kind of shitty dollar store painting 'cause it'd make dick feel like he was doing his job.
Anyway, we'd been out there for a little over forty-five minutes, and my ass was killing me. That piece-of-crap lawn chair must have been made in Nicaragua. Why can't shit come from China anymore like in the good old days? When all of a sudden this old biddy, who was hobbling along on her walker, keels over right there on my spot of grass; pissed off the pigeons. I was trying to enjoy the view of the lake and here's this bitch, flopping on the ground clutching at her back pissing and moaning.
So I haul my aching, wrinkly old ass out of my piece-of-shit Nicaraguan chair and kneel down in the stifling heat of that mosquito-infested June morning to see what's wrong. I roll her over and damned if it isn't Amelia Fowler.
"My God it's you!" She exhaled. "I'm having a heart attack. It's my fourth one. I know what they feel like, and I know I'm not going to make it."
"Amelia what is this shit? You think I can't tell a fake heart attack? I did fifteen years with-" I started, but she cut me off.
"Shut up, Frank. I don't know where I would have wound up if I'd have never met you, but I can guess. I'm dying an old woman with a full life instead of a young girl with stupid ideas 'cause of you. I needed to tell you that. I promise I won't need you again."
I yelled for dick, and he stumbled over and bumbled though ECPR, but Amelia was right. She was done for. That was the last time I saw Amelia Fowler.
| 2017-03-22T14:51:37
| 2017-03-22T13:26:15
| 81
| 21
| 74.074074
|
[WP] Occasionally, as a joke, you touch a random brick, hoping it opens a secret entrance, or speculate that the musician crossing the street has a tommy gun in his guitar case. Anything to distract you from your boring life. Today, you blurted out "Inventory!" and a video game menu appeared.
|
Hmmmm....
I flip through the menu and select "inventory." It lists the current contents of my pockets: lint, a paperclip, two pennies, and a wallet (which has ten dollars, two credit cards, and a driver's license). It also notes I have one worn t-shirt, one faded pair of jeans, and one ratty pair of sneakers.
I hardly think they're *ratty*.
I flip to the next screen, "Stats." Seven points in dexterity, eight points in wisdom, nine points in constitution, six in charisma, ten in strength, and only three points in intelligence.
I blame my parents for making intelligence my dump stat.
I scan the next screen, "party." Mom, Dad, Sadie (my girlfriend), and Baxter (my dog).
Hmmmm....
I swap out Sadie for Maxine, my coworker who also teaches yoga in her spare time. What? Her stats are way better than Sadie's. This is just about optimization, nothing personal.
There's a map screen, too. I find a cheap bar nearby that I've never been to that sells pumpkin ale that raises my health by two points. I head there, grab a table, and have a drink while I keep flipping through the inventory.
It's amazing. The pumpkin ale really *does* make me feel better, and what the heck--I take my remaining points in intelligence and allocate them to dexterity, constitution, and charisma. Maxine has been texting me all night and I have to be prepared for this "boss battle."
Speaking of which, I'd better save.
My life flashes before my eyes. This moment is crystallized in my brain.
Just before I get up to go home to Maxine, I notice the last tab. "Main menu."
I click on it.
The bar goes dark and gets quiet. It's still there, but less real, like I'm looking through frosted glass.
"New Game. Load Game. Options. Exit Game."
Exit game?
What's outside the game?
My cursor clicks down the list. I highlight "Exit Game."
I made a save point, didn't I? It can't hurt to look.
I tap the select button.
The bar disappears. My body disappears. The world is dark, except for a pulsing red light above my head. I'm floating in a glass cylinder. My naked body--what's left of it-- is hooked to a hundred thick cables and plastic tubes.
And I remember the accident. And Mom, and Dad, and Sadie, who weren't as lucky as me.
I close my eyes.
"Start Game."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Find my stories at r/oncemorewithandroids
|
'Another Brick in the Wall'
What is it that people seek? Be it fame, money, power; those did not appeal to me, i have yet to find that 'thing' that will make my life fulfilled. I spend my days in melancholy, what is the purpose of my life?
Looking along the vast plainscape that is this city, ever-gray and full of fumigation, i dream of a serendipitous encounter, sometime that will annul my desolate reality, lest i never realize that dream is my greatest fear.
I like music and movies, that is something I like to spend my time with, I indulge in little escapades to let my mind adrift, to envision possibilities of infinite realities that could happen at any moment, obviously I am constantly reminded this is all a fabrication of fiction, but anything could happen.
I look at it like this, what if my perception were correct? what if I touched this brick right here, could I be transported to another world? or lets say that shaggy-haired guitarist over there had a tommy gun in his guitar-case, what if he were to suddenly unload pellets of destruction, ensuing chaos where bodies burst open like water-melon? I might be the one who would be able to stop him, nonetheless these are possibilities and I am just making sure I anticipate them, the world operates in bewildering paces, only the ignorant would say otherwise.
Now I say this as I crossed paths with the afore-mentioned guitarist, my stomach steels in suspense, my knuckles whiten; knees weak, arms heavy. I almost vomit on my sweater, but the travesty is over in seconds, there was no tommy gun after all. I sigh in relief and continue onwards on my perilous journey towards the supermarket.
Just then, something funny occurred to me, a mix between a brain fart and the attempted recollection of an obscure lyric, I blurted out 'Inventory'. Now I shit you not, a video-game like menu popped up, I fell backwards on my ass.
My heart thundering, i started doing the floss in ecstastic excitement.
Yes the dance.
| 2020-10-26T18:06:02
| 2020-10-26T17:40:14
| 2,195
| 44
| 97.995444
|
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years."
|
"You're going to have to say that again, because I have no idea what in the fuck you're trying to say," I inform the sparkling conversationalist that just conversed in little more than grunts and growls.
"Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years," the young man behind the counter informs me, seemingly confused as to how I didn't understand him the first time.
"Cool, can I get my food now?" I ask, impatiently. I really don't want to get mixed up in anything today.
"I don't think you understand - that language? It's more than dead. It's extinct. How do you know it?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose with an exasperated sigh. It's damn near midnight, and I don't feel like going through the whole process of explaining my "skill".
"Congratulations; I don't care. Can I get my food now?"
"Not until you tell me how you know that language," he hisses at me. "My family have kept that language alive, but secret, for generations."
"Well, then, it's not very extinct, is it?" I lean against the counter, the exhaustion of the day catching up with me. "Look, man - I just have this ability, to speak the native language of whoever I speak to. Can't understand it, but it just comes out of my mouth. It's useful in a traffic jam, but that's about it." I yawn, my eyes drifting shut as I feel myself growing even more tired. "So I don't know your fuckin bullshit language - I just want some food."
"I don't believe you."
"Once again, I do not care. My food, please."
He purses his lips and completes the transaction. Finally!
After waiting for what feels like an eternity, I finally get my tray of food, and simply nod to the cashier as I head over to the closest empty table. Being the only customer in here, it's not hard to find one.
Before I even have a chance to eat, my newfound irritation sits down across from me. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. "Look, can I just enjoy my food in peace?" Taking another look at my burger, I mutter to myself, "okay, maybe 'enjoy' is pushing it..."
"If what you told me about your ability is true, then we could use your help - there's a word we've lost, a very important word. The only word left unknown in the language, in fact." He leans forward a bit. "And it's the word that opens an ancient safe, in which who knows what kind of riches are stored. If you help me open it, I'll give you some of it."
I stare at him, the cogs working in my tired brain. Eventually, I decide to just humor him - after all, money is money. "I'll open it, so long as I don't have to speak to anyone else in your family."
He nods, and I sigh as I quickly scarf down my food. We head outside, exchanging no conversation whatsoever, and share a quiet car ride to his home. It doesn't take very long to get there.
It's an old house - maybe seventy years old, judging by the area and the style of the design.
He leads me to a shed behind the house, and opens it with a key from his belt.
"This better be a decent amount of money, because you're probably very fired right about now," I mutter. He chuckles at that, and silently opens the doors, letting enough moonlight in for me to see the single box on a small table. It looks like it's steel, and it doesn't seem to have any seams at all.
"It's a code - and we know all the numbers in it, expect the zero. We don't know what that translates to. The code is just the numbers one to nine, and then zero. Could you say that, and maybe your ability will automatically translate it?"
I nod, and approach it while clearing my throat. I speak as if I'm speaking to him - I don't know what the limits of my ability are in terms of just speaking aloud to nobody in particular. I list one to nine, and, my heart pounding and nerves on edge despite how tired I am, I say the final number: zero.
As soon as I say it, my throat feels like it's on fire. I fall to me knees, coughing and hacking, and feeling as if I'm going to die. Tears come to my eyes, and I feel something coming out of my throat - not through my esophagus, as if I'm vomiting, but my trachea. It's painful, but I don't think it's causing any kind of damage.
One huge cough brings with it the cessation of pain, and the sound of metal falling onto wood. I open my eyes in confusion, and see I've coughed up a metal disk of some sort.
"What the fuck - what is this!?" I exclaim, confused and a bit scared. I look over at my new "friend". "What happened!?"
He looks pale, and just as confused as I am. "Y-you're speaking English now," he informs me. I look back down at the disk, even more confused than before. I frown, not really understanding what in the hell is going on.
Regardless, I wordlessly follow a faint instinct. I pick up the disk, stand, and press it against the cube.
The disk is immediately absorbed into its mass, and I jump as a loud mechanical clunk echoes throughout the shed. Whirring and mechanical sounds persist, and I faintly hear a door open and confused voices approaching the shed. I swallow back fear and look up at...
"I never got your name," I announce. It seems so trivial to think of, while a solid cube makes otherwordly sounds. But it's all I can think about, oddly enough.
"William," he introduces himself. "You?"
"Simon," I reply. I return my attention to the cube as the sound suddenly stops, and become acutely aware of people watching me from the doorway. I hear William explaining stuff to the new observers, but find myself captivated as the cube slowly opens, transforming in ways that shouldn't be physically possible.
Out of it comes a single, glowing stone. Despite my better judgement, I reach out to pick it up.
"No!" Someone behind me exclaims. It's too late - even as they grab my shoulder, my hand has closed around the enigmatic treasure. I feel a sudden surge of energy, and my vision goes white. I feel myself fall to the floor, and then - nothing.
|
"Hey thanks, I hope you have a good afternoon"
The swirling void took me by surprise, really. The crimson red eyes of the cashier, not so much. I'd seen it before, I thought. Glimpses and glances, really; bad punctuation as a coda to the overbearing sentence of ordering a Whopper.
"We don't sssserve Whoppers," she hissed, hissingly. She was a she. And she didn't like what she heard.
The tail hadn't struck my eyes, but now it was striking my face. In a very feminine, demonic way at McDonald's. I thought about all the times I'd made children smile with a wink, a nod, an utterance I barely understood in a language I must have butchered around the world. Airports, ESL classes, daycares... something had always touched me.
It was too late though. The room melted away like guess on an SAT analogy I'd glazed over. Never enough time. Never enough time.
A feminine body curled snakishly and femininely atop me, a forked tongue darted in and out, the sound a hiss but the words I heard:
"If you 'Go Looking' for your Lovecraft book in the ball pit again I'm calling the fucking cops."
| 2018-06-24T21:55:57
| 2018-06-24T21:01:01
| 80
| 20
| 75
|
[WP] Every day, hundreds are people are arrested by the fashion police. You need to stop by the electronics store to buy a new washing machine. The only clean clothes you have left are a pair of orange cargo shorts and your grandma's hand-knitted Christmas sweater.
|
I walk hastily into the laundrette. My panicked entrance, complete with awkward sock dropping, does not go unnoticed by the rest of the people in here; who avoid looking me in the eye, staring intently down at their phones.
They know what's coming.
I throw my clothes into the machine - it's a short wash, I won't be long - and I live so close! The chances are miniscule, astronimical, and it's not like anyone in here will rat me out; sure, they'd rather me be gone, but everyone hates the feds more than the actual criminals!
The door jingles ajar, I sit rigid in my corner, praying it's another late night patron.
"So I was thinking maybe, we finish up here then go back for a girls night at my place?"
The camp voice tears into me like a gay nail and on a gayer chalkboard.
'Relax' I think to myself 'It could just be a gay man. Not all gay men are in the federation. It could just be a very gay man.'
I huddle myself away, listening as the man and the woman he speaks to edge themselves around the room.
"Oh dear. Oh honey." I hear the woman say.
"What?!" Another patron asks panickingly, and I hear him dust off his outfit, checking for any faults.
"Relax!" The woman giggles "Look we aren't booking you, but just going to give you a little warning here that those shoes? They're on their way out."
"I mean." The man chimes in again "You're pulling them off, but you're pulling them off in february. This is march. You can't be pulling february off in March I mean, you just can't be doing that."
"No, no thank you!" I hear their victim say. "What was I thinking, I'll look for a new pair straight away, I-"
"Okay shush, shut up your mouth." The very camp man says "What is that there."
I don't need to look around to know they've seen me.
"Okay you, Mr Mopey in the corner? Can you turn around please?"
I sit firmly in place.
"Sir, sir do we have to remind you who we are?"
"We're the feds bitch." The woman says.
"Damn right girl."
I hear them high five.
Slowly, I rise to my feet and turn to face them. Their mouths open wide, palms go to mouths and dainty hands go to chests in disbelief.
"Look." I say "I can explain."
"No, no you don't talk now." The man says, as the woman freezes in her shock.
"What you have done here. All this, this is something ever never seen. And I've been a fashionista since I was twelve, okay?"
"Since he was twelve!"
"And in all those years of patrol, I have never seen something this... genius!"
"Genius." The woman parrots.
I blink at them.
"I mean obviously - it's hideous."
"Just awful."
"But how you've made something so hideous, and to come outside in a public place where you know, where you know we'll be looking, is genius."
"I mean it's just so ironic."
"Mhmm." The man agrees.
"Like so ironic."
"So, you won't arrest me?" I ask, hands in over sized pockets.
"Arrest you?!" They laugh "Honey I want to buy you."
"Keep you in my bag like a little hipster doll."
"So ironic."
They turn and walk away, distracted by hypothetical outfits they would dress me up in. I still stand in disbelief, and notice a man across the room shaking his head to himself.
"What?" I ask him, and he chuckles.
"Man, you lucky you white."
|
Finally the day came. I had two hundred and thirty-seven dollars and eleven cents. It had been hard to earn. Some upstart third world country had hired me over the internet to write their Constitution. Why me? I don’t know. They contacted me through my blog, saying they liked my writing style.
And now, after writing a thesis-length manuscript on the Rights of Man and the Divine Destiny of the People’s Republic of Rammbabbasbad, I had enough money to follow my dreams.
To become a professional washerwoman.
It was the greatest day of my life. Two hundred, thirty-seven dollars and eleven cents in my PayPal account. A digital coupon for Ye Big Box Appliance Store. I was ready.
For the first time in a week, it was time to put on pants. I looked in my clothing box. I keep my clothing in a box. I seemed to have sold my furniture in the past. Perhaps to buy drugs. I regret nothing.
Inside my primary clothing box, there was a pulsating, bright orange cobra named Jomjo. He spat hot lava towards my gullet. I dodged, executing a pirouette. My junk flapped in the wind. I closed the primary clothing box. Those clothes would be off limits for a while. Until Jomjo went back to sleep or died or poofed into a cloud or something.
I opened my secondary clothing box. There was a pair of orange cargo shorts. I checked the pockets. They were full of something wet. I sniffed cautiously. It appeared to be hummus.
Very well. These things happen.
The only other item in the box was my grandmother’s hand-knitted sweater. Estimated retail value: $867. She was quite a fashionista, that grandma. She had her own designer label for Christmas sweaters. It was called ‘Truggedy-troppity’. After she was unexpectedly murdered by a stampede of bulls while on holiday in Pamplona, a German venture capitalist took over the Truggedy-troppity brand and renamed it ‘Xshit’. His marketing genius took the company global--and in the process this made the original vintage Truggedy-troppity sweaters extremely valuable.
The fashion police would highly approve of that sweater.
But hummus-filled orange cargo shorts were specifically outlawed by the Fashion Police’s Public Clothing Guidelines (section 109b, paragraphs ee to vv).
I looked at the other box. I could risk it, trying to sneak past Jamjo to find some Fashion-police approved pants to wear. I looked at the smoking hole in the carpet where Jamjo’s lava had landed. Nope! Too dangerous.
It was extremely cold outside. I could either go pantsless, or wear an illegal pair of shorts. This was a tough conundrum. What kind of washerwoman would people think I was if I were to walk around pantsless in the cold? They’d assume I had no other clean pants. That I could not even wash my own clothes, much less theirs.
I came to a decision. I would wear the orange cargo shorts, but pull them up very very high. And pull my sweater down very very low.
I strutted out of the house, my polar white thighs shivering in the wind like a pair of shaved walruses. A hint of orange fringe peeked out from under my sweater. I pulled up my pants and tightened my belt (which was technically a piece of twine).
I flagged down a hang-glider and negotiated a fare for transport to the Big Box Appliance Store. He was a stubborn haggler. He said he wanted either five goats (without blemish of any kind) or my hand in marriage. It took some effort, but I negotiated him down to a nice compliment and one of my old GameCube memory cards.
He didn’t seem to happy when he dropped me off at the store. But that’s taxi drivers for you. Always wanting more.
I walked inside the store. It was heaven. There were so many washing machines, all sparkly and white and gleaming and lined up perfectly in Aisle Three. It was a dream come true. It was so beautiful that I didn’t want to leave.
So I didn’t. I’m still here. In Aisle Three. Being Happy.
| 2015-01-08T20:58:10
| 2015-01-08T20:53:10
| 208
| 12
| 94.230769
|
[WP] "Marines dont die, they just go to hell and regroup", they've regrouped and now they're ready to take over hell.
|
"Hey, do any of you have any Jalapeno cheese. These crayons are a bit dry"
"Nah, but I'll trade you a forest green and royal blue for some M&M's"
"Oh yeah, sure!"
"Lol, fucking boot, never trade your M&M's."
"Hey, aren't we supposed to be conducting a raid tonight?"
"Yeah, idk First Sergeant just said we're on standby."
[Marines sit and twiddle thumbs for rest of eternity]
|
Bobbito and Jimphara hid behind a large rock.
It had been about a week since the marines had shown up.
Bobbito and Jimphara where hoping they'd all been killed by now, and most of the marines had. One by one they had fallen to the armies of hell.
Problem was, everyone time one fell, the others took up the slack. Till only one was left.
"You'd think they'd run out ammo by now" Bobbito uttered between rounds of gun fire.
"Yeah, turns out we had all the good ammo makers. Something about indirect sin? Was told about it a while back"
"Yeah, but why where they making ammo? We're demons. We don't really use guns"
"Seemed a good idea at the time"
Bobbito and Jimphara noticed it was quiet.
"Did The Slayer leave?"
"The Slayer?"
"Yeah, some of the guys call him that. Slayer. The Slayer. Either or"
"Thats stupid. He's not a metal band. He's one guy"
"A guy who brings doom"
"DOOMGUY!"
"That a worse name"
Just then, Bobbito and Jimphara where both eviscerated by a chainsaw.
| 2017-09-13T12:10:13
| 2017-09-13T10:55:53
| 419
| 127
| 69.689737
|
[WP] You have weird super power. If you successfully talk someone into doing something, they will succeed, regardless of if the action in question is actually possible. On the other hand, your abilities to actually persuade people are unaltered.
|
The man on the ledge reeked of old booze and stale vomit, enough for me to smell him from ten paces away. Not your typical drunk however, judging by the suit; a week or so ago, it had been a respectable business number, probably complete with a crisp shirt and a smart tie. I could see that the shirt lost a number of buttons since, and acquired questionable stains, and the tie went missing altogether.
"Don't. No closer. I'll jump. I'm not kidding." He winced and swayed as he spoke.
I shrugged and leaned against the roof access door.
"Suit yourself, partner. Jump. Or don't. You are not dying today."
"Wrong!" he swayed again. "I'll do it! We are fifty stories up, there's nothing anyone can do!.." Below, the Strip churned, shone, sparkled and blinked. Just another day in paradise.
"You don't understand. I... I thought I could stop. I *almost* stopped. I just... I needed... more..." For a moment I thought he'd start to whimper and back away from the ledge, and we could solve things quietly. No such luck however. He kept blabbing, the standard suicidal drivel of a gambling addict down on his luck.
"Hey!" I snapped my fingers and he stared at me wide-eyed. "Will you ever get on with it? So you fucked up. You ALWAYS fuck up. And you'll fuck this up too. Want to know what'll happen now? You'll jump. You'll fall fifty fucking stories, land on an empty car, ruin it, and walk away with one hell of a bruised ass and not a single broken bone. Get it? You're about to fuck up your own suicide. I'm not here to talk you out of it. I'm here to talk you *into* it, watch and fucking laugh."
He blinked slowly, once, twice.
"Fuck. You. You're crazy. What kind of a negotiator are you anyway?"
"I'm not. You see a badge anywhere? For all you know, I'm the tooth fairy. You know what's funny? You can't even stop yourself thinking about what I said just now, can you? You're gonna attempt suicide by jumping fifty stories, and you're gonna FUCK IT UP. All this to ruin some poor slob's car. C'mon then, loser. I got places to be."
"Fuck. You."
Credit where credit's due - he did not scream on the way down, or at least not so much that I could hear him. From below, came a distant thud and an indignant blare of a car alarm. I walked the ten paces to the ledge and peered over just in time to see him kneeling in the street next to a ruined cab, uniforms and paramedics rushing towards him.
The phone in my pocket trilled.
"Mahoney? We've got him. Come on down."
|
Some would say I have been blessed with greatest superpower possible. And I would agree with them, the ability to make belief into reality? I could do unspeakable things. Imagine the potential for my power, I could convince impressionable children to do so much, from learning how to cure cancer to making real change in our environment. I could convince children to fly, to discover unbelievable things, to find the answers to questions once thought to be unsolvable. There should be no limit to my potential. No cap on my abilities. All of this made possible with only a few simple worlds to a listening ear. Sadly, I'm mute.
| 2017-06-21T12:23:26
| 2017-06-21T09:48:11
| 1,906
| 74
| 96.117524
|
[WP] Humans are actually the most friendly and curious beings in the galaxy, in comparison to all others.
Inspired from http://imgur.com/gallery/S82QF
(Sorry if this has been brought up before, its my 1st WP after months of lurking )
|
It would seem 2342 would be as good as any year to summarize and chronologize humanity's interactions with extraterrestrial life. Perhaps it's only because I dove into an archive of classic films ripe with grey-skinned elongated humanoids muddling about, spooking people for no good reason. Then we actually met them and realized, the spookiest thing about them, were their complete lack of common decency. From what we knew today, humans are, surprisingly, the most friendly and curious beings in the galaxy. Below are the years and first interactions humanity has had with extraterrestrial civilizations.
**2092**
The Dormarks.
Oh my, the Dormarks. A crude-rough scaled tetrapod with a consistent unexcused flatulence problem. And above all of Earth's delicious and delectable cuisine, they, of course, enjoyed beans.
It is recorded the first landing occurred in Siloam Springs, Arkansas, in a farmer's field. Lucky for them, it was green beans. According to the farmer, they exited in a group of three and promptly began chowing down on the delicious beans, which, to the dismay of the farmer, were ready to be harvested later that week.
News teams around the world flocked to the site with their cameras and helicopters, telescopes and binoculars to catch a glimpse of the aliens before the US army set up a protective perimeter. People around the world marveled at the lizard-like beings as the aliens continued to eat all the poor farmer's field. Some quotes from the time were:
"And here I thought them aliens was gonna try and introduce themselves when they done landed." - Farmer Joe, Siloam Springs
"Incredible. A tetrapod of all matters of beings, advancing to an intra- or even perhaps intergalactic space travel. What a time to be alive!" - Kelly Greif, Harvard University
Within hours, the military had the sight under quarantine and attempted to approach the aliens with a peaceful intent. They asked the first question, the one everyone always imagines to ask when they first meet an alien.
"Where did you come from and do you come in peace?"
The whole world waited in anticipation, hoping the aliens understood and their intentions were not ill. And the whole world waited a few hours as the tetrapods continued eating until the entire field was bare. It was then they turned the messenger and spoke the first alien words humanity would ever hear (in perfect English too!).
"More green things," which was followed by a gaseous release that churned the stomachs of the messenger and surrounding soldiers.
Then the messenger asked their question again.
"Where are you from and do you come in peace?"
To which the aliens replied, "don't ignore me you primitives. You call them beans, don't you? More beans. Show me more beans."
The negotiations (if you can call them that) lasted another two hours until the aliens broke through the military barrier and began to eat the neighboring farmer's field of beans. It wasn't until they cleared out all the fields in the town and make their way back to their ship that they answered humanity's question.
"We come from over there," they gestured with their head, which was patterned and coloured like a beautiful turquoise gem. "And sure, long as there's beans."
"What can we call you?" asked the messenger before their ash-coloured bodies disappeared behind their ship's main door.
"Dormarks."
And then they left, until the next year when they returned to eat the farmer's fields again, as they have every year since that memorable meeting.
-------------------------------
More interactions to come! (I will fix all the grammatical and tense issues when I finish the entire series. I plan for there to be about 4 or 5 total interactions).
|
June 3, 3012
As my first year in space comes to a close, I feel myself compelled to write, more thoroughly, of some of the events that have come to pass. My journal entries until this point have been spotty at best, and I am ashamed. I realize now that it is my responsibility to carry the message and intent of the human race past the confines of my mortal life.
50 years ago, we learned how to travel faster than light. This was an exciting day in the eyes of scientists and civilians alike! Immediately, governments from all over the world joined forces to start exploring the vast blackness surrounding our home. Yes, I remember the humbling sight of mortal enemies coming together for -parden the cliche- the greater good. I am not a scientist, engineer or mathematician. I represent the average Earthling, an ambassador to what great civilizations we may encounter on our thousands of years abroad.
The first signs of life came out of Andromeda. I'm not sure on all of the details that transpired between the engineers and scientists, but I know that eventually we came to a consensus that we would land on the surface of a planet that looked like little more than a frozen wasteland. In my earlier entries you will find what conspired there, at least from my limited point of view on the ship. Those great beasts, not unlike woolly mammoths, charged the ship. I have no doubt that they meant to kill us, for their food supplies were dwindling and there were no other signs of life. Frightening, though it was, it seemed those creatures were little more than animals, scared for their lives and desperate for survival. Once we entered Bode's, everything changed.
There were many planets there that resembled earth. They had stable atmospheres and water; one of them even had great structures visible before landing. I shudder now, thinking of how enthusiastic I was to explore this neighborhood where we might meet intelligent beings.
On the first planet (we affectionately named it Dean, after our captain), reptilian beings waited to greet us. We could not communicate, of course, but somehow a couple of scientists deciphered that the beings wanted them to come to a nearby mound of dirt. Following, the scientists chatted on the way about what an exciting find this was and what it could mean for the future of Earth. Once they arrived at the mound, the reptilian hosts promptly snapped the scientists in half, and shucked out their insides like crab legs. They discarded the bones onto the mound, which I realized was a kind of compost heap.
The next two planets were not any more kind to us. Each species had a different, more malevolent way to kill us humans. Sometimes eating us, sometimes taking our bodies away for some purpose I will never know. We started with 100 humans on our journey to explore and further understand the space around us. There are nine of us left, somehow managing to pilot the ship on a course back to Earth.
I fear there is no safe corner of the universe for us to go. Taking care of our planet is critical now, more than ever. If we should have to leave...God help us.
| 2017-01-13T19:12:02
| 2017-01-13T19:05:15
| 51
| 11
| 78.431373
|
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.
|
"Excuse me sir, but this doesn't seem right? Are you sure you have the right results for me? This seems totally unwarranted." I said to the clerk who handed me my sentence papers.
"Sir, there are no mistakes here. Try this, it usually clears things up." he replied.
He handed me a blue flyer, like the kind they give you at a hospital, which answers the usual questions that they don’t have time to go over with every person who asks.
It read:
“Feeling cheated by your sentence?”
“Wondering how you could have possibly racked up that many sins in one lifetime?”
“Feeling like your perfectly average life couldn’t have possibly led to this?”
If you answered yes to one or more of these questions, this is for you. We often have newcomers ask similar questions and have found that the following self test can clear things up. If you still have questions after reading this, you can talk to one of our support staff.
Check all that apply:
1. I felt underappreciated during my lifetime
2. I often had to remind people why I deserved what I was clearly entitled to
3. People had a hard time recognizing my achievements
4. I rarely felt like I was among equals, often feeling like the smartest person in the room
5. Often felt like people were envious of me
6. I was almost always able to convince people to let me have my way
7. I found that I had to constantly make people understand that they were wrong
8. People often refused to see what I knew to be true
9. I sometimes had to use force to make people understand things that were for their own good
10. I often needed to remind people that I don’t settle or compromise
If you checked off five or more of the above, it is likely that you lived your life as a narcissist. You were unable to see the sins you were accumulating because you believed that you were not committing them at all.
Still confused? One of our support staff can help you by recounting your memories from the perspective of your friends or family. You can make an appointment at the front desk.”
|
I stared at the demon behind the counter.
"186,292... years? What could I have possibly done to deserve that? I was kind to nearly everybody, and the worst crime I ever committed was smoking weed!"
The being with red skin and disturbing horns (That somehow seemed to be in multiple places at once... ugh, I was getting nauseous just looking at them.) nodded knowingly.
"Yes, we get a lot of that down here. You see, it's not what you did, but rather, what you didn't do. Do you remember your brother?"
Oh, god... my greatest regret. I nodded slowly, while on the inside I was nearly crying, though I *was* wondering how exactly THAT could be worth so many years.
The demon continued, "You remember how he was used and abused for his entire childhood, until he came to live with you?" I nodded again. "Well, I'm sure you remember the next part then. How he latched onto you, and fell in love with you, his little brother, and you just continued to use him for whatever you could think of."
I shouted angrily, "No! It wasn't like that! He was older than me, he should have known better! And it isn't my responsibility to look after someone so pathetic, anyways."
At that, the last vestiges of pleasantness left the demon's face, and his visage became terrifying.
"You're lying to yourself, mortal. You couldn't cope with what you had done to him, and weren't attracted to him, so you abandoned him when he needed you the most. If I had my way, your punishment would never end!"
I shook my head in disbelief. "I don't understand. How could that one inaction carry such an enormous sentence? Yeah, he was smarter than normal, but he was nobody special... Why is th-"
The demon cut me off with a growl, and his face grew disgusted. "Mortal, do you have any idea what he would have done if he hadn't ended his own life after you left him? He would have invented miraculous technologies, solved nearly all the worlds problems, **AND DISCOVERED MAGIC!**" He ended with a bellow that brought me to my knees with sheer physical force. "He would have invaded and liberated *Hell itself* and ended death for all time! He was infinitely more valuable than you, and you decided that you didn't want to bother interacting with him, or even supporting him at all. You disgust me, get out of my sight!"
I kneeled on the floor, his words slowly sinking in to my stunned mind. I thought back, to all of our conversations, and with a sinking feeling in my gut, I realized that this foul creature in front of me was right... I deserved this, if what he said was true.
I fell sideways to the ground, going numb. I can't believe I made such a huge mistake. I always regretted what I had done after he was gone, but I never knew it was of this magnitude.
The demon sneered at me from above, shouting "Guards, get this pathetic meatsack out of here and into his punish-"
At that moment, there was a tremendous explosion from the direction I had come from. Startled, I flailed and turned around while still collapsed on the ground, scanning for the source of the ridiculously loud noise, wondering what was going on.
Behind me, I heard the demon that had just been berating me exclaim softly in horror, "Oh, no... It can't be... I thought that this was prevented! He lied! Satan lied to us, there was nothing he could do! I knew it!" The sound of his footfalls (or should I say hooffalls, as he had some sort of equine legs) rapidly retreating behind me, I gulped in apprehension.
I stared at the plume of smoke, unseeingly, as I contemplated what came next. I hope whatever caused that explosion would end my existence, but I wasn't very confident that it would, or even could, given that this *was* Hell, after all.
I heard soft footsteps coming from in front of me, and I squinted, wondering what would happen now.
As the footsteps continued, the vague form coalesced into something recognizable, but unbelievable. "Brother?" I asked softly, staring at the form of my brother as I remembered him from when he was still a child.
He grinned, and raised a hand. I flinched back, only to stare in shock as he simply waved at me. He softly uttered, "Hey man, I'm sorry I'm late. C'mon, I've got so much to tell you. Let's get out of here."
Numbly, in shock, I stood, and walked towards him. He caught me in a hug, and then grabbed me by the hand as we walked on. I shook my head, I don't deserve this. He should just leave me.
At that thought, he turned his head to me and smiled. "I won't leave you. Not ever again. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to stay alive, but now I'm strong enough to do *anything*. Don't worry bro, I've never held anything you did against you. C'mon, we have stuff to do."
Feeling rotten to my core, I continued along with him in silence. Maybe this *was* my personal hell, and what the demon did was just a deception...
At that thought, my brother froze, and turned towards me with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you so much. I knew my death would destroy you, that you were lying to yourself, trying to be normal, but I did it anyways." He sobbed. "But it's important that you understand, I won't let you be in pain or misery anymore. You were still the most important person in my life, even after I died" he finished with a tearful gaze towards me from the corner of his eyes.
"Ok." I said flatly, while internally I was screaming and crying, I don't deserve this. I don't deserve his kindness. But, if I had another chance to be there for him, this time I wouldn't throw it away.
We reached the gates of Hell, where I had found myself shortly after my death, and he tightened his grip on my hand. He looked at me seriously, and said, "Don't let go. No matter what." With those words, he pulled me through the boundary, and everything dissolved into purple, orange, and green streaks of light. I couldn't see or feel anything. I could barely think. My next thought was, "I hope I don't let go..."
| 2018-09-26T08:05:05
| 2018-09-26T07:21:22
| 488
| 23
| 95.286885
|
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water...
|
Perception can screw with your dreams. When I was young and Naive, I wanted to be a superhero. I wanted to save the day, help little old ladies across the street and help others. The first roadblock to that dream was my powers. I can input enough thermal energy to boil water (although, I theorize with practice, I could boil more thermally resistant substances) and that alone got my ass kicked a few times by the local bully, especially since the power itself isn't very flashy. But the last words my mom ever told me were to be strong and to not return violence with violence. For 15 years I've kept my head down, studied, worked out and trained my abilities in the hope that I could change the world for someone like me.
The final nail in the coffin for my dream, was when I was accepted into a Hero Internship. We've all been told that heroes are the paragon of justice and equality in the world, righting wrongs that local law enforcement and governments just can't. But I've seen the truth. These heroes are nothing more than spoiled children with extraordinary abilities and they're.... just wasting them and using them to hurt others. Octave, a sound-based hero leveled an apartment building during a battle with a d-list villain. I later found out that Octave was trying to egg him on, and that the villain's wife and kids were in that apartment building.
Every time I attempted to call upon the members of hero society I though were the true shining stars, they sucked out the light of hope with quick and galling efficiency. This is my confession. On October the 17th, and 1:00 P.M CST, I entered my workplace in one of the Hero HQs. My first target was Fortress, the Durable hero. His crime: extortion, assault and murder of several local business people under the guise of asking for protection money. It was simple really, and I exploited a certain.... interesting quirk with thermodynamics. You see, if you impart enough thermal energy in one particular area quickly enough, it will explode. From the outside, it looked as if he had died of an aneurysm.
I.. I couldn't stop. Vitreon, with the power to turn objects into a glass-like facsimile of that same object, was the first to catch on. I boiled the water in her eyes to the point that they looked like seared mussels. A fitting punishment, considering all of the bystanders and falsely accused criminals she mutilated and blinded. The pain alone should have knocked her out, but she fired a wave of glass out at the last second. I was able to hide behind Fortress' corpse, and the glass impaled Dr. Gas. His ability to turn himself gaseous had allowed him to slip out of tricky spots and suffocate opponents before, but luckily, he was caught off guard and died from blood loss. I couldn't stop. Every hero I saw, I remembered what they had done to the people they were supposed to protect.
I am an inevitable byproduct of a community of demigods unchecked by themselves. If you are a hero and have done these acts and worse to anyone, especially the innocent people who depend on you, I am coming for you. This is not an isolated incident. This is a catalyst.
|
As I make tea for those scumbags, I start to think of different plans. While waiting for the tea to boil my plans are narrowed to two. They both boiled down to one concept. Boiling them all alive. When finished, I bring the tea down to them all. Being as agitated as I was, I had plopped it down and sat away from them. As I sit there, I think of which plan to do. *Should I combine the plans?* I think to myself.
"Hey, boiling woman!" I hear from one of them. "Get us more tea!"
"Why don't ya do it yerself," I ask, obviously annoyed. I have a strong Irish accent and appearance.
"You're the tea girl! Go do it!" Another adds.
I roll my eyes as I get up and strut out of hangout. I don't go get tea, though, I gather my things and walk out of the door. I walk for around ten minutes before I bump into a villain. *Perfect*, I think to myself with a smile. They were lugging around some type of bag, most likely money to buy things for their mechanic, North. North is a small, brown-haired girl. She's fairly young for a villain, she's only sixteen. Desperate to talk, I follow behind him. I needed to join them, it would be the only reasonable option to get my way.
When he stops at the door, the gang is there to make sure he got everything or if he needed help. The others notice me and ask me a few questions as to why I followed their buddy home. I explain how I work for the superheroes and that I can join them and give them as much information as they need to best those guys. After a few minutes of discussing, they agree to let me join for time being, but it was mostly because they need more info on their enemies.
They sit me down to talk about what I do, as they couldn't just have me doing nothing. I said that I boil water, but I can still be of help, even if it seems like a useless power. I talk about my little plan with them.
"So...You have a 'plan'? What is it, exactly?"
"Well, to start, humans are made up of seventy percent water, correct? Well, if I can boil water, and humans have water in 'em, I can boil those bastards alive."
As I end the sentence, I look around at them. They all seem so intrigued at that idea. Maybe this is my chance to prove myself to somebody important to me and not just be thrown away as 'tea girl.'
"Hm...Give us a minute to discuss, will you?"
"Absolutely. Take all the time you need to decide. I will be waiting here for your decision."
I sit still and examine the table I sit at as they talk. It seems to be covered in cigarette ash and food stains. *Whatever,* I think, *they aren't that bad so far. At least they aren't treating me like some type of slave that those other guys did. I swear I could get PTSD from them.*
"Hey!" I hear. I look up. It's North. "You're in. I'm North. What do we call you?"
Ah...A question I haven't heard in years. What did I use to call myself? Annette? That was it, yes.
"Call me Annette."
"Alright. Welcome aboard, Annette. Our attack is tomorrow, we'll be visiting you in your room here quite a lot tonight, so be ready."
"Gotcha, North. Where is my room anyway?"
"Right over there." She points to a shiny door. "You share a room with me, so expect to hear some metal clinks."
"Alright. See you in there."
I walk inside the room to relax for the time I get. About five minutes pass and they come in, asking all sorts of questions about the guys. I answer to the best of my ability, and when they have enough information to evade, they leave, letting me sleep. After a few minutes of think, I pass out.
I wake up in the morning to a knocking at the door. North and I open the door, getting ready to leave. I get to lead something for once in my life, so I'm very excited about this mission. Once everyone has everything prepared, we head out. We get to where the heroes are within five minutes and they spot me.
"Hah! YOU'RE fighting US?" I hear one of them blurt out. "This'll be easy, boiler girl."
"That's what you guys think," I say as I stare them down. Soon enough, they're coming for me. Before they can even touch me, I boil one. He starts to break down and everyone freaks out. Water and blood burst out of him, splattering everything. I stand there with a straight face, staring the rest down. I go up to the nearest one and poke near his intestines where his water is stored. He dies the same, painful way. I get the others before they can even try to get away from me. I've had enough of them, and I finally have a team like myself. I've waited to this for almost half my life, even if I'm 25. I ignorantly joined them when I was almost 15, thinking I would help them so much.
I'm finally done. I've gotten my way. I've my team.
I've got ***myself.***
| 2019-07-30T17:17:27
| 2019-07-30T16:02:12
| 40
| 13
| 67.5
|
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
|
"My Lord! My Lord!"
The captain, a large yellow cat holding a rather impractical spear in one clawed hand, jumped nearly a foot in the air before turning around guiltily. "Blast it yeoman, what is it? It's almost time for my hunting break."
The yeoman came to a halt, breathing heavily. "It's the humans, sir. Our long range scanners are picking up error signals from their world!"
The spear creaked dangerously in the captain's hand. *"What!?* I was assured that problem was dealt with!"
The yeoman fidgeted nervously, "Well, yes sir-"
"We put warp interdiction fields over their entire system!" the captain snapped, "Anti-Grav-blockers, too, not to mention a half dozen others. Keeping them on that bloody dirtball has been the most expensive endeavour in galactic history! Any means for leaving their planet should be permanently blocked; What danger could they possibly pose *this* time?"
The yeoman, nervously looked down at his printout, slightly ragged where his claws had nervously punctured the edges. "Um...well, according to this, they've achieved orbital flight. Even visited their moon again, sir - and their first probes are leaving their system as we speak."
*"WHAT!?* How!?"
"Well, it appears that they, um, strapped small crews of their species atop giant towers of explosives, sir."
"...what."
"T-that's just what it says, sir."
"...By Akltar, I'd almost forgotten how insane they were." He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Please, at least tell me that's the most they've accomplished?"
"...um."
"*Akltar Blasted Damn it!* Everything, yeoman."
"Well, they've established a global intelligence network, sir, so we were able to acquire a surprisingly large amount of information. It appears they have plans for more powerful rockets, powered by nuclear explosions."
"You mean nuclear reactors."
"Um...no, sir."
"...Damn it."
|
The captain stood before their company, his ferocity was inspiring.
"Its up to us!" he roared "The boys at the top are wanting to pull the funding for our little expedition, they say this has been a waste of men and money! This is our last chance to take back the colony from those bastards and drive them back to their blasted hovels!"
The team of three dozen on the ship let out a cheer, obviously inspired by our leader. I admit his speech had aroused a primal urge to fight. To protect the homes that we had established here. Their enemies likely out numbered them, but they were the best of the best. If they could just reactivate the bases defenses they could establish ground for reinforcements to land.
A blue light flashed, the crew got silent as they readied up. There was a bump as the ship touched down. There was a slight sound of air decompression and the doors swung open and the crew jumped out and took a wide battle formation.
"How did they know that we were coming!" someone shouted. I looked across the field and there they were. About 200 of them, already in full charge.
"FIRE FIRE FIRE!" screamed the captain as he himself unleashed a barrage of fire from his own weapon. The response was thunderous. The front line of the oncoming hoard went down but they didn't break.
"Why the hell would they come running right at us!" screamed the man next to me.
"These guys are insane what are they doing?" responded my friend who was standing next to me. It was then that they met us, their numbers were greatly thinned but the creatures they were riding tore through the left side of our line. A pointed pole one carried pierced my friends breast and bloomed as a flower out of his back
I turned to my ferocious captain to see him locked in combat with one of our assailants. The creature was clothed in metal from head to heel and carried a sharp piece of metal in its hand. As he brought it down on my captains arm it passed cleanly through his soft combat suit and the flesh beneath. Blood sprayed and I ran.
Next I remember I was yelling at the pilot of the ship to take off. These unorthodox tactics had broken larger battalions than ours and if we didn't get off this rock we would all be dead. As we took off I looked out the window and the shining combatant raised a visor on his helmet and I could see his soft fleshy face beneath. I bowed my head and braced for orbit break.
It would have to be me who broke it to the higher ups that we would never be able to return to this planet they called Earth.
| 2017-03-05T22:11:49
| 2017-03-05T21:06:51
| 2,747
| 160
| 94.175464
|
[WP] We invented immortality in 2021, along with a drug to take it away. A million years later, that drug is in high demand and near-impossible to find.
|
I walked down the dimly lit prison corridor, my shoes clacking along the linoleum as I went. Dirty faces of prisoners, stuffed into tiny sells like canned sardines, stared out at me pleadingly.
"Please, mister." A frail-looking woman begged. I saw her bloodshot eyes and rotting teeth and frowned.
"Not today." I replied and kept moving.
They knew me well here in the purgatory of cell-block D, where they kept those sentenced to life in prison. A much harsher sentence than it had been a few centuries ago.
The Angel of Death, they called me. With me, I brought the antidote.
The cure to immortality.
The holy grail that had fascinated and eluded humankind since the dawn of our existence. For as long as we have existed we've sought to remove the dark cloud of death hanging over our heads.
We romanticized the notion of living forever without taking a practical look at the consequences. Once we could avert death, we never stopped to ask ourselves if we should.
We could change the physiology of our anatomy, but we couldn't change our nature. Immortality had not given us a change of heart. We had never lived in harmony and peace with one another, and that did not change with the discovery of the AA-X8 vaccine. In fact, the inability to die had only made it worse.
Upon the realization that their enemies could not be killed, the rules of war changed. Defeated armies became prisoners of war. Taken territories were enslaved and imprisoned. Overpopulation became rampant to the point where governments enforced mandatory vasectomies and hysterectomoes at the age of puberty. Overpopulation led to global environmental destruction.
Now, much of the population lived in overcrowded poverty or imprisonment and not even death could release them from their miserable fates.
I stopped outside of a cell at the end of the hall. Its many occupants looked at me through the bars with hope in their eyes.
"772361, you are this month's lottery winner. Your sentence has been pardoned." I said to the crowd of malnourished faces.
The idea of death used to be a punishment; now it was a reward. It was almost kind of funny when you really thought about it.
A disheveled young face came forward and pressed himself against the bars. He couldn't have been more than 15 when he had gotten the AA-X8.
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
"Thirty-five years. Treason, for protesting the treatment of the PoWs." His young face was screwed up and bitter, like he'd been the brunt of a bad joke.
I suppose he was. Sentenced to life in prison for speaking out against the Government. Protesting cruelty had resulted in the cruelty extended onto him.
"Arm," I instructed. I pulled a small black hypodermic needle from my jacket pocket. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first I had released from such a minor sentence. Nor would he be the last.
He stuck his arm through the gap between the bars and looked into my eyes defiantly.
"Any last words?" I asked.
"Everlasting life means endless suffering. Immortality is a prison. Death is freedom. May my death be kinder than my life has been."
I stuck the needle into his vein and triggered the antidote. His eyes rolled back into his young skull and he began to seize. The other inmates watched in jealous fascination as his chest became still.
|
Sometimes I think back on my long, long life and wonder, "Could I have died a million years ago?" Thanks to the organic portion of my brain, I can't really stop this feeling of wanting to die. I should not continue on like this. I can still remember back when people died on accident. They weren't trying to end their existence. It just happened. Like something outside of their control would kill them. Diseases would kill people all the time, I remember. Hard to imagine now. Tiny little creatures and viruses altering the organic parts of the body to the point where it can't function anymore. Or sometimes a human would be so damaged due to some sort of collision or impact that body would just cease to function. Scary when I think about it. I think I'm glad we solved that problem. I wish the problem still existed.
It's like a memory I can't delete. I remember about a million years ago that the humans invented a chemical that would allow their bodies to fight off any disease and stop the effects of aging. Oh yeah! I remember that humans used to just get old and wear out like rocks and buildings. That must have been exciting for them. I was born, actually born, after that. How old was my mother? I can remember that. She was 58 years old. Not long after that, about a 100 years or so, humans started to ditch their organic bodies. They would replace pieces at a time. Better liver so they could take more chemicals, better eyes so they can see things farther away, better hair, better teeth, better fingers, better everything. I like the human body. I like seeing how the blood flowed through it. I like feeling things get digested. I like pooping. Others didn't.
I remember when nearly everyone was almost completely inorganic. Chemicals kept us happy. Robots mined our resources and provided everything. I caved. I upgraded. I cached all my memories on hard drives. Slowly but surely I upgraded my arms, legs, organs, skin. I remember slowly people stopped being around each other. Nobody used the roads. Robots used the roads. No one wanted to create babies anymore. Too much hassle. Most didn't' even have the organic material anymore. There were no conflicts between humans like there had been thousands and thousands of years ago, but there wasn't much interaction anymore. I remember people a least send messages to each other like video and text, but that became less popular. Most people started to live on in the virtual. There you can be human again. There you don't need machines to keep you alive and happy. Machines still kept people alive and happy though and they would stay in virtual for years at a time.
The robots improved us more and more. Nanobots would repair us automatically, even our inorganic matter. I used to sleep, I remember, but nanobots clean that part of the brain so I don't need to. Many people stayed in virtual forever. As the years passed, many people uploaded themselves into virtual. Their real bodies and parts were recycled by robots. I didn't upload. I like the sun and the water. I like my body. I like uncertainty. Too many things were certain of in virtual. I think those people were trying to escape how boring their lives were in the real, but probably ended up in an even more boring life in virtual. Get far enough from the metropolis and I would see bugs, wild vegetation, and sometimes even animals. Real animals too, not the modified ones. I remember I liked it out there. A cell could last me 5 years before I'd need to return. I wasn't alone. I remember a few hundred thousand of us didn't upload to virtual.
About 40,000 years ago, something happened. Robots self-repair everything as quickly as possible, so I can't remember what exactly happened. The Earth had an impact though. I remember I felt it. The sky went dark for many years. The robots couldn't seem to fix it. The solar power failed. The ocean currents shifted too. The only power left was nuclear. Always was my favorite. I liked feeling the heat and radiation. Servers for virtual failed one by one. Robots stopped moving and up keeping the cities. Nuclear wasn't enough. There's was only fuel enough to power smaller pockets of metropolis. Had to interact with people again. Work together like humans used. Robots were failing us. Things kept getting worse.
Robots kept things running because robots would take care of everything, especially other robots. When they couldn't help themselves fast enough, they couldn't keep gather resources to keep the metropolis powered, and without power, more robots would fail. I remember this happened very quickly. I remember enough humans communicated with one another to meet and form a society again. We had to do the jobs of the robots. Most humans didn't like it. Perfectly capable, but didn't like it. They wanted to upload to virtual. There was no virtual anymore.
The world got worse. Weather got colder. Power became tougher to produce. A lot of our mechanical parts failed under the conditions. The smarter of us figured out that our limbs and bodies should be more organic to self-produce warmth. I remember no one argued. Nanobots maintained our organic parts. I felt weak though. Many of us felt weak. Warmer though. Able to move freely. I remember not much fuel was left. A few pellets of uranium would last a person for a long, long time, but there was not much left to power the metropolis. The metropolis was cold for the most part. People didn't like. They struggled. Once engineered something. I remember the human being excited. They explained it to us. A capsule taken orally. It would temporarily disrupt the nanobots which would allow the uranium pellet in our torsos damage our brains and nervous system. This would kill a human before the nanobots could repair the damages. They took the pill. I remember feels like. I don't remember seeing someone in that much pain. A few minutes passed. They were dead. The nanobots repaired the human’s melted features, but they did not more or think again. Many followed the demonstration.
Too many people too fast. The few machines left couldn't keep up with production. The capsule required resources we couldn't find or create anymore, I remember. Humans died without uploading how they made the capsules. I should have taken one when they were still available. Not many of us left now. The sky is getting brighter. We have no purpose. Some of us tried to kill ourselves, but the nanobots are too efficient. Nothing outside the capsule works. Nothing to do with ourselves. No reason to continue. We're trying to find what we need. I'm trying to remember what is needed for the capsule, but I can't remember.
We're wandering now. The world is desolate. The oceans are dark with corrosion. Who knows how long the nanobots will keep our bodies going. We've all seen enough now. We don't sleep. We don't die. We do nothing but wait for our uranium supply to run out. We hope the nanobots only stay in our bodies. We hope the metropolis doesn't start up again.
| 2017-08-16T08:38:00
| 2017-08-16T07:26:57
| 285
| 56
| 80.350877
|
[WP] World Peace has been achieved and the first crime in centuries has been committed.
EDIT: I've been reading a lot of these prompts throughout the day and they have all been really good, sadly I don't have the time to sit and read them all :(
|
"So, we're all here today to judge Mr. Holland." Judge Carver paused, and then finished with, "Right?"
The hesitation came from the fact that in the 27 years Arnold Carver had been a judge, he had never been in a trial. It's not like he was lazy though, nobody had gone to trial in the last 383 years! Not since, in a final necessary act of violence, the last member of the last rebellion was hanged. Yet, here in a dusty, untouched courtroom, he stood to pass judgement on this apparent criminal.
Judge Carver turned to face the jury, it was difficult because the robe he wore was itchy and clung at his feet in a way he wasn't used to. It also smelled like mothballs. "Uh... So I think you guys are gonna hear a couple uh... Testaments?" A handful of the jury nodded while the rest looked dazed. "And then you're going to confer, and tell me if he's guilty, yeah? So, let's get this underway!"
A man stepped forward, it was the plaintiff's lawyer. "Yesterday, a transgression of the law occurred. My client, Mrs. North, was gardening, as we all do from time to time," Judge Carver could tell the lawyer had been waiting a long time for this, which was good because somebody needed to be enthusiastic, this whole affair was too quiet and dull. "When the accused attacked her, causing her serious injury and mental anguish." The jury looked at Mrs. North, who honestly, didn't look very hurt. "What transpired was a heinous act of unwarranted and unjust violence!"
After a few seconds of silence, Judge Carver realized the lawyer was finished talking. He coughed awkwardly and turned to face the accused. "Did you do that?" He asked Timothy Holland.
In broken, stuttered, malformed and slurred English, Timothy responded with. "Yes I did, sir. My mom and dad said honesty is good."
Judge Carver, put on his best judgement face, and then lost it halfway. Instead he just shook his head and turned to the jury. "What do y'all think?" There was a murmur from the sixteen people in the booth. Everyone seemed to be trying to figure out what they were doing. Finally someone broke free of it and stood.
"Is this really necessary?" He said. "I mean, Mrs. North was hit by a stick. Twice. By a four year old. Doesn't this seem petty?"
Judge Arnold thought about this. It absolutely did. He looked at Mrs. North, who did look like a mean old bat. And he looked at Timothy, who looked like a snot nosed kid. This whole thing was, indeed, a farce. Now was his time to act, he would pass judgement.
"Mrs. North, you really ought to get some perspective, this is a very small matter. This amazing period of peace we've enjoyed is kept together because we've stopped being petty. Are you really going to push for that to change all because you're bored?" Mrs. North grumbled in her seat. She looked like she wanted to rebut, but she held her tongue. "And Timothy. Don't hit people with sticks." The small blonde boy bowed his head and nodded. "Alright guys, can we go home? Do we really need to make anything out of this? Sheesh."
With an awkward shuffling about, everyone got up and left. Judge Carver went home, and laid about, there really wasn't much else to do.
Edit: I suck at court stuff
|
For the first time in 371 years the Probability Engine failed to catch a crime before it happened. Scientists across the world united to create the perfect crime stopper. The entire moon was repurposed into a giant satellite. With the most powerful supercomputer ever made. At the helm sat an AI they called Nolan.
It linked itself with every other satellite to monitor the planet. No matter where you were on Earth. Nolan was watching and computing the probability of a crime happening. Weather, body temperature, stress levels, traffic, poverty and any variable you can think of. Nolan observed everything with the help of robots that replaced the planets police forces. If any variable looked out of balance, Nolan sent it's bots to temporarily relocate whatever individual was most likely to cause a problem. For centuries the system worked perfectly. Nolan put certain variables in specific prisons depending on their current threat levels. If some of those people never made it back into society it was overlooked. Isn't world peace worth it, whatever the cost?
For 371 years, Nolan kept the world running smoothly. Until one day it didn't. The first crime was completely unexpected. News stations around the world jumped on the story of a lifetime. The body of what appeared to be a homeless man. Long, ragged hair, naked and a scar going around his skull in a perfect circle. Cause of death seemed to be that he bled out. There were holes in his wrists and ankles like something had been ripped out. It was a sensation. Who was this man and where did he come from? Who was able to commit a crime while avoiding Nolan?
The next day the coroner who performed the autopsy was declared missing, along with the body of the homeless man. The intern spent days going through the coroner's notes. Only to find a printed photograph of what appeared to be a bar code branded into someone's skin. As the intern headed to the office the next morning. A Nolan bot labeled him a variable and he was never seen again.
| 2015-11-01T08:41:52
| 2015-11-01T08:32:38
| 210
| 66
| 68.571429
|
[WP] You're an omniscient being just chilling around on Reddit, answering unverifiable questions just for giggles.
Inspired by [this exchange](https://np.reddit.com/r/translator/comments/47mew8/likely_korean_and_to_english_please_message_in_a/d0gzgt7?context=2).
|
Like most Redditors, I know everything. Except, I actually *do* know everything: past, present, and future. I’m omniscient. It’s a weird gift that could also be construed as a curse. I’ve both put myself in a high position in society and cost the lives of several people close to me by revealing their fates. I guess people shouldn’t be told their destinies because they’ll find a way to make it true.
So I keep my power a secret. Instead, I just screwed with people on the Internet by giving facts to things that are otherwise unverifiable. Some were simple, like answering “Who is going to win the Oscar for best male actor in a lead role?” People did not believe me when I told them that Leo would finally win. But I also liked to make more outlandish “predictions.” A Redditor posed the thought “I wonder how many people I’ll never see again” (unfortunately, the answer for him was “all of them”).
Sometimes I liked picking out idioms and messing with people: “Ugh, my student loans are going to be the death of me.”
“Nope, snakes.”
My account quickly gained prominence and was considered one of the best “novelty accounts” out there for its "humor."
But the imposed façade was soon blown away. These “predictions” started coming true. I’d often visit r/askreddit, r/relationshipadvice, or r/showerthoughts, telling people exactly what they should do or answering seemingly unexplainable questions. And, upon success, they would thank me for the advice or tell me how amazed they were that I knew such an outlandish answer. Word of my ability got out, and, well…you can figure out the rest.
Trolls and scholars alike scavenged my account for comments, wanting to know everything. Because who doesn’t want to know the answer to “How does Game of Thrones end?” (with Jon Snow on the Iron Throne) or “How many licks *does* it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop?” (412 with the average lick). And that was a problem.
You see, through a series of comments on unrelated topics, I had knowingly detailed exactly how and when the world was going to end: A meteor was set to hit and destroy the Earth on March 23, 2027. It wasn’t direct, but theorists put my puzzle together. So, naturally, people panicked. Widespread rioting and looting is tearing the world apart. I stopped commenting, but the damage was done.
And there’s a bigger issue: Being omniscient doesn’t make one immortal. I’m a human with a typical life span of 78 years, 14 days, and 127 seconds, but I know it’s going to be cut about 45 years short. And it won’t be from a meteor. No, mankind is projected to develop technology in time that can divert the meteor and limit the damage. But that won’t happen.
I shouldn’t be surprised, though. After all, I had already known that my meddling with the natural flow of life would cause an end-all nuclear war that would take my life before the meteor. I just thought it would be more fun to watch the world burn.
|
Wow, knowing everything sucks. I wish there was something in the Universe that I *didn't* know, just so I could enjoy the experience of learning it. But there's nothing.
I even know that this overpowering ennui will eventually drive me completely insance. I know the *exact moment* that my mind will implode on itself and I'll be reduced to a giggling lump of purposeless protoplasm, still all-knowing but totally uncaring.
Here it comes... here it comes...
*<snap>*
...
Oh, look! I can register for free!
| 2016-02-29T08:24:23
| 2016-02-29T08:08:31
| 97
| 21
| 78.350515
|
[WP] A remake of your favorite childhood video game is released, and you have purchased a copy. The game prompts you for your username, and you decide to use your old one, out of nostalgia. One of the NPC's recognizes your tag and calls out your real name, asking where you've been all these years.
|
“Neovolum,” I typed into the prompt line.
I was excited to be playing World of Warconstructs. Just the day before, out of the blue, they’d announced a remake of the popular MMO. Without a hint of hesitation, except a call to my boss for three vacation days, I was ready to dive in. The game booted with the familiar animation, but everything had a significant life-like edge that it’d lacked even in the later content. I nodded in appreciation, adjusting my chair just a tad for a *long* gaming session.
When the game booted up, I went through the character creation. A simple bullman shaman. Great big horns that didn’t even contribute to melee combat and a beard that could only hamper it. I chuckled at the features. When I went to join the server list, it was surprising that there was only one option. *How are they going to support the player base?*
Shrugging it off as some release day nonsense, my character loaded into the starting area. The same life-like edge applied to the world. I paused and looked between my double monitor set up to my run-of-the-mill spec PC. *There is no way I can run this!*
I was disappointed. If the graphics were this intense, then the moment I moved the world would probably stutter and glitch.
“Shit. Well, this was an astounding waste of money. There isn’t even an options menu to tone down the graphics,” I said aloud, scowling at the game as if it could help its developers. “It was good to see you, and you are definitely looking good. Had some good times you and I…”
My voice trailed as I saw a bullman approach me with trepidation. I watched the very organic expressions on its face move from trepidation to excitement as it rushed forward to where my character stood. The avatar just shifted slightly in place as they often did while you weren’t directly at the reins.
“Neovolum! Long time no see! Where have you been all these years?” the bullman asked.
I leaned forward in my chair, my curiosity unable to help responding. With deft strokes, I typed out a response that my avatar actually verbalized. It surprised me, but considering the level of realism the remake had, it wasn’t a surprise.
“Been traveling. Found a simple job, but couldn’t spend much time here,” Neovolum said. It was actually what’d happened. Once I graduated school, there just wasn’t enough time while I looked for work. Hell, I hadn’t even set up my computer rig at my last two places and I could only hoped that I lasted in my current position.
“It’s good to have you back,” the bullman started. A double click with my mouse brought up his basic info and stats.
*Wanageeska Roughcut*
*Level 1*
*100/100 HP*
*0/100 Rage*
*Clearly a melee character of some kind.* “It’s good to be back, but I am going to have to go now. I’m sorry.”
He looked appalled, his snout and nose ring flaring in indignation. “How come? Aren’t you here answering the Great Call?”
“The what?” I typed automatically.
Instead of replying, the Wanageeska let out a deep lowing. A moment later, several more reverberated through my speakers as other bullkin responded from outside the little clearing where I’d spawned. The enchanting tune shook my desk, and I was certain I didn’t have a good enough surround sound to manage the effect. When the entire room started to shake and the world went black, I knew something was wrong.
Sweet herbs and tang incense floating through the air pulled me to awareness. A hide-like material made up the ceiling of the room I was in, and I could see wisps of the drifting essences. I felt *very* itchy, but when I went to scratch my chest I felt a huge mane of hair. My blood froze in my veins. I tried to shake my head to clear it, but when I did it pulled heavily to either side. I stopped.
“What the foooooook,” I said. My throat was dry and somehow it had come out as more of a lowing than an actual curse.
“Welcome back, child.”
I spun on my ass only to get tangled in an unnecessarily long beard. The thing reached all the way to my hooves… “Hooooooves???”
\* \* \*
Feedback is appreciated!
For more of my work check out: r/Realms_Beyond
|
Ahh, NovaSphere, I loved this game back when it was just a top-down perspective computer MMO. The NovaSphere was a space exploration MMO. There were many, many worlds to explore, and some of them could be claimed by federations formed by players. There was an in game economy, amazing combat, and in my opinion most importantly, astoundingly beautiful worlds. The most unique thing about NovaSphere was the fact that to travel people used out of all things, motorized hang gliders. I sunk about one thousand two-hundred hours on NovaSphere, NovaSphere swallowed my life, but it was exhilarating.
Today is the long awaited release of NovaSphere:Reclocked, or more commonly called Reclocked. Reclocked is being released on the Conscious Swap One, or Con1, the abbreviation sounds kind of suspicious, but it’s a great device. The Con1 swaps your consciousness into a simulated body, and puts that body into a realistic world. Someone attempted to make a cartoony world on the Con1, it didn’t work.
I finally get to break the normalcy of being a 7/11 manager, and I am able to be a kid again. Booting up the Con1, and inserting Reclocked, I put the Con1 helmet on my head, and dived into the simulation.
I set up my character, male, 6’1”, short dark hair, slightly tanned skin, brown eyes, and finally set my character name to what it was in the original NovaSphere, which was Nova. Nova is somewhat cringeworthy, but I have immense nostalgia for that name, so I don’t really care. I was then inserted into the game.
I looked around, it was the starting planet, grey colored metal two story suburban looking buildings scattered everywhere. There were white metal fountains with ornate designs. I saw pink colored metal shops, blue colored metal stalls, everything was a normal downtown of a suburban city, just metal, and of many varying colors. I examine the sky, and see many different planets. From ocean planets, to grassland planets, all the way to weird purple looking planets. Everything was just how I remembered it.
Due to the fact I’m in the starting planet, I don’t see anyone else who’s playing the game, just different NPCs scattered about. I saw Greysteel the blacksmith, Aurelia the florist, Yeljica the magician, John the priest, and many others. I head to the starting NPC, Jory, and attempt to do the starting quests, only something else happened.
“Nova old buddy, haven’t seen you for twenty years.”
Huh, how does he remember me, is this some sort of legacy program? The Reclocked shouldn’t know I’ve played previously.
“Uh, Hi?”
Jory keeps repeating the same line he said to me earlier, I can’t access the starting quests so I have to log out now.
Completely weirded out, but still wanting to play the game, I decided to leave the game and find some answers. I decide to use the Con1’s online search system, I use it to find out how Reclocked knows I’ve played before. After I logged on to the Reclocked official message board, and I found more and more people having the same experience as me. In the original NovaSphere’s terms of service, it wouldn’t store your data of any sort. NovaSphere not storing data helped propel it to the top charts, since almost every other large budget game on the market, used your data in a predatory fashion. If NovaSphere kept your data that would tarnish it’s reputation immensely, and lead to many lawsuits, since they advertised not storing data heavily.
I found an article a few weeks after I logged on Reclocked, explaining what happened to me. The article said this, a high-level executive became fed up with NovaSphere’s parent company NOTA. He was fed up because NOTA was illegally storing a person’s information, even though they claimed they didn’t keep a person’s information. The NOTA executive had programming experience, so he hid a dialogue line in the game, greeting people in Reclocked who NOTA had kept their data. The dialogue varied based on what game of NOTA’s they played. I can’t believe NOTA actually kept my data, NOTA was one of the few companies I confided in, and to have my trust broken like that really makes me rethink how much I trust companies. NOTA had built up their brand name based on the fact that they didn’t keep a customer’s information. Heck, I originally bought NovaSphere because of NOTA’s policy of not keeping their customer’s data.
Over the next two years their stock price collapsed, and NOTA eventually sold off all their assets, and within two years the company folded. If NOTA collapsed during the NovaSphere days, I would’ve been heartbroken, as weird of a thing that is to to say about a company, I really loved NOTA as a company. Today however I have some sort of twisted enjoyment seeing NOTA fold.
Reclocked was got sold off to another reputable company called Calhun’s. Calhun’s also advertises that it will not steal my data, but time will tell. For now I will log back into Reclocked, and relive my childhood.
Edit: (Hopefully) improved the ending somewhat + other stuff
Tips always appreciated!
r/CascadeCorner
| 2020-06-02T12:18:43
| 2020-06-02T12:17:18
| 223
| 26
| 88.340807
|
[WP] "Marines dont die, they just go to hell and regroup", they've regrouped and now they're ready to take over hell.
|
"Hey, do any of you have any Jalapeno cheese. These crayons are a bit dry"
"Nah, but I'll trade you a forest green and royal blue for some M&M's"
"Oh yeah, sure!"
"Lol, fucking boot, never trade your M&M's."
"Hey, aren't we supposed to be conducting a raid tonight?"
"Yeah, idk First Sergeant just said we're on standby."
[Marines sit and twiddle thumbs for rest of eternity]
|
Burned flesh and fiery landscapes were nothing new to the 45th Marine Division of New England. If anything, they were sights for sore eyes; old flairs, reignited in gunfire and blood.
Clenching a cigarette between his teeth, 2nd Commander Armistice gripped his pulse rifle in two armoured hands, taking a moment to absorb the charred, warped landscape around him.
"Well boys, looks like we're all here. Been a while." He took a long drag from the cigarette before plucking it from his mouth. "Try to look alive."
Behind him, his regiment -- or rather, the battle-worn remnants of it -- stood, defiant and indomitable, hands clutching their weapons like they were there own children, teeth grit in steely determination and armour scratched and battered beyond recognition.
Like all Marines of the 45th, they'd come into the world fighting, and they never stopped. Born into training, and refined into killers by wars upon wars.
In front of Armistice lay the enemy; a stark reflection of his unit. Demons: born killers, and had done nothing but killing since.
Between these abhorrent denizens of Hell and the grizzled veterans of the 45th, there were no words to be exchanged.
The Marines were the ones to fire the first shot. A green pulse burst from a rifle, incinerating a demon into naught but a pile of fine grey dust.
The demons took no time to mourn -- they screamed, they bared their scorching swords, and they charged. A red swarm of scales and horns and hellfire.
"*Fire!*" Armistice's mechanically enhanced voice barely sounded over the oncoming horde.
His unit rose their arms, and squeezed their triggers. Bullets whizzed, and pulse emissions soared across the red, weeping sky. The initial line of the demonic horde was mowed down in a firework display of blood and viscera. The next lines climbed over the corpses of their dead, beginning their ascent up the hill the 45th was stationed.
More shots rang out, and more demons hit the floor, coating the land in blood. The sound of clips emptying and pulse rifles overheating preceded Armistice's next command, which he bellowed with battle-induced fervour.
"*Drop your weapons. Brace for melee!*"
The unit instantly shifted, going from a slapdash spread to a rigid line. They tossed their guns down into the demons as they approached, the heavy metal of the weapons scoring a few cracked bones in the process. They drew their beam-swords, and stood their ground like rocks awaiting the flood.
Armistice's own weapon was clenched firmly in his hands, red light emanating from the blade. He stared a demon right in its face as it scaled the mountain, its bulbous yellow eyes meeting his mellow grey. Its body lolled forward like a snapped neck before it charged, hands outstretched.
It didn't make it more than a single step before Armistice severed its head from its body in a single strike. He followed through into a reversed slash, parting another demon from its legs.
"*Charge!*" He yelled as black blood splattered in excess around him. He could barely hear his unit advancing -- their screams and cheers -- over his own thoughts resonating in his head, coaxing his brain into the distinct rhythm of fighting.
The flow of battle, the pace of the war-drums.
*Step. Parry. Slash. Twist.* Another demon hit the ground, followed by one more that didn't even know what'd killed it. His unit pushed forward, backing the demons off the cliffside, sending them plummeting to the grounds below.
But more kept coming -- an endless amount, multiplying by the minute. They came from the ground, the sky, the corpses of their fallen.
They were an endless legion.
Marines began to fall. Draxis let out a strangled cry as a sword shattered his femur, and another pierced his heart. Colter was torn into bloody pieces, savaged by a group of hands burrowing from the ground.
Giving away ground, a sword slashed across Armistice's back, sending him down onto one knee. He narrowly ducked under a fatal blow before responding with a metal fist in the face of his attacker. The demon went reeling, and Armistice spun on his feet, lunging into another. He toppled with the pierced demon into a heap, the crimson creature writhing and screeching as it tried to wrangle itself free from the sword in its belly.
Armistice drove the sword deeper, skewering the demon as it let out a dying gasp. His eyes swept the area around him, falling upon the bodies of his unit, and the men about to join them, fighting until their bitter and bloody ends.
Armistice slumped forward, gripping his sword and tearing it free from the demon. He shakily rose to his feet, the weight of his battle-armour suddenly multiplying from the burden of his injury.
Yet, in spite of himself, a devilish grin spread upon his lips.
He supposed he and the demons weren't so different after all.
As he moved into his inevitable death, sword severing flesh and fists shattering bones, a single thought lingered on Armistice's mind; one he'd bring to the grave with him, no doubt.
There was no greater joy than to fight.
| 2017-09-13T12:10:13
| 2017-09-13T11:31:49
| 419
| 22
| 94.749403
|
[WP] Your whole life you had an ability that seemed normal to you. Now you realized you're the only one with this ability.
|
"All right...let's do this one again. What is it, number 62? Page 31. Yeah, that one. With the arpeggio." our instructor's voice clarified as it gained confidence in its command. "Ready?" The clicks of his drum sticks, silver and distinct, cycled throughout the room as its slight echo constructed their pristine, wooden rhythm.
A wave of skin tones, arms turned javelins and tipped with mallets, cut through the air and swept upwards in unison. Tensed energy broke. A storm of yarn broke over the marimbas as our arms rained down upon the alternating rosemary landscape.
My hands followed suit with the other classmates, tracing the notes dictated on the lesson booklet and fumbling with the new chords. I sighed as the spectral river, melody incarnate birthed from the dusts of silence, overtook the surface of my mind. The voice of each instrument ebbed and diverged, rising and falling in a complex miasma of fractals. Misty gray plummeted to cold ivory, then bloomed into florid red like gashes into ice. The hesitant pattering of strikes on wooden bars evolved into an iridescent ascension of stars. I reveled in the glory of the song we had created; fumbling, halting, but beautiful nonetheless. We had painted a wonderful shape. One that, with practice, would blossom into greater power.
The hand of our instructor sliced into the immature symphony, declaring a flaw worthy of halting its movement. Contradicting the elegant flight from before, our hands flopped unceremoniously to our sides. The nebula of sound stuttered to a halt; flickering courageously, it died, the tendrils of colored flame fading and falling back to static and ash. Without pause, he launched into his lecture on the factors of our error and the formula for their adjustment.
Like the continuous flow of an ocean, the cycle resumed many more times: music, voices. Music, voices. Color coalescing into seething silence. Eventually, we approached the conclusion of our last run. The clock was striking; our lesson had concluded. With the energy of the jubilant young, we covered the delicate instruments and began roughly sheathing the expensive tools back into their cases. A few others lingered behind to joke around with our teacher, playing around erratically with the few items left untouched in the middle of the room.
A stick bounced off a tom-tom. A flare of orange soared across my vision.
"Wow!" exclaimed the perpetrator, apparently entertained. "That sounded really high! Almost like on the marimbas. What note would that be?"
I looked up from my equipment for an instant and called out distractedly, "E flat."
At once, almost as if I had stated something offensive, any conversation throughout the room shriveled and died. Feeling eyes burning into me, I stood up and regarded the small group up front. "...what?"
"You're saying...that this has a note? That you know what it is?" As if to make a point, he released another smattering of beats upon the drum. Fire danced. Someone quickly wheeled a keyboard to us, ripping off the leather cover and sending it, crackling with compressed air, to the floor. It settled quickly, the gray fuzz of its wake falling into nothing. Retrieving another's mallet, she brought it down upon the appropriate key with the gusto of a blacksmith. The color of midsummer afternoon rang forth again, crystalline and more coherent than upon the drum. "She's right!" she exclaimed. "It's the same sound!"
I stuttered, at this point very confused. "Of course. Everything has a note."
Murmuring erupted in either direction. The instructor widened his eyes and regarded me. "Of course they do, to varying degrees. But how did you know which one it was? Do you have perfect pitch?"
Feeling very much on the spot, I stuttered, "N—no...I go by the color. E flat is orange." When no one responded with the familiarity I was hoping for, I tried again: "The color from the note! I see the color when it plays."
The tom-tom operator seized another mallet. The scarlet glow of a red dwarf pulsed. "A."
Dull gray, incarnate of tears and rain. "D."
Gold, triumphant and grandiose. "F."
Laughter emanated. "That's so cool!" "What's this note?" "What's the bass drum?" "I can sing! Which one is this?" The cacophony of questions preceded the bell, blaring through the intercom and filling my vision with raucous apricot.
I faced their sparkling eyes, gaping at first. Then my brow furrowed.
"You...you mean, this doesn't happen to any of you?"
|
It was Tuesday, March 27th. There was nothing special. No birthdays, not a holiday. Just another Tuesday in Joseph's life. He walked down the alley, unsuspecting of anything at all.
"He can't do it..." The voice boomed in disbelief, some people turned to look, but Joe didn't hear anything.
"He really can't?"
"Oh my- is this really? It can't-ifjudsohgikgkfjufifi" thousands of voices overlapped each other, melding together, deafening in their mutters but to Joseph, the birds sang and the breeze wafted with him as he walked down the busy street.
"It must be nice, to be the only one who can't hear the thoughts of thousands around him." Thought a random woman walking with her friend
"Could you imagine the serenity?" Chime in the other as he walked by them.
It wasn't long before the thought of the pair was mixed and mashed into the chaos around them, shared by all but Joseph.
| 2015-01-08T17:52:17
| 2015-01-08T17:37:32
| 49
| 13
| 73.469388
|
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