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[WP] "If I would kill you, then I wouldnt be any better than y...." "Are you serious? You just broke into my hideout and slaughtered 90% of my henchmen! At this point you caused more deaths than I have!"

My eyes widened and he grinned wickedly. I kept my grip on his neck tight, still dangling him six inches off the ground, my gun pressed against his temple. But he was right, though, wasn't he? Here I was, contemplating the morals of taking the life of this... this _monster_, when all his henchmen lay bleeding out on the floor. Most of them probably weren't so bad, just got drawn in by the good pay he could offer. Heck, I've been pretty bad off before. I'd like to think that I wouldn't have gone this way, but then again, I have these powers now, so I guess we'll never know what little Gregg would have done if he'd been stuck in that dead end job, not making the rent and ready to be kicked out. Yes, I could certainly understand that temptation. Yet I hadn't hesitated. Without remorse, I took them all out. I mean, sure, they were shooting at me. But I can dodge bullets now. How much of a threat were they, really? Was it really self defense? Not really. Sometimes, in saving the world, you lose yourself. "You know what, doc? You've got a point there." And I pulled the trigger.

Laughter. Unexpected and crude, cut through the air. He was laughing at the statement. Smiling even, the grin lit in a haunting array by the flames from the manor. Blood dripped off his chin in the cold air, giving him an almost inhuman look. "I'm sorry." He recovered, snorting slightly. "It's just. I always wanted to say that to you." Perhaps he'd hit a nerve with this guy. Oliver had always enjoyed dealing with these heroic types. This one however, as the last 45 minutes taught him, was anything but. He racked his mind to remember where he knew his face from. If he even knew him in the first place. It didn't help the guy was circling him casually. He knew the style. Making sure he was in fact unarmed. His wounds definitely confirmed he was in a roundabout way. Oliver was doing his best to keep it together as everything he worked for went up in smoke. "I don't remember you." Oliver spat. He crouched now. Closing the gap on him to give him a better look. But still nothing rang. "No?" He clapped. "That's too bad." He dragged him through the snow now. The cold biting his last moments at every turn. The trees cleared above. The fire seemed like a scenic glow now. A shining city on the hill. The irony wasn't wasted on his attacker. He'd stopped to admire his work at least twice. "Tell me what you want." Oliver asked again. "I want you to know who I am." The sound jarred his senses once more. Chains on his ankles, the feeling of a padlock snapping shut over a broken leg. He recognized the place now. He'd built this landing for his boats on the lake. The snow had silenced much now, the ice still and grey. He shackled the other end of the chain to something next to him and sat down to look at what he'd created. "My stepbrother was an attorney. I know I know. Lawyer jokes, feel free to say them now." Oliver didn't. That was good. "And well, he wasn't like me. He had a family. Good job. Kept me out of more trouble than I usually was in... going somewhere?" Despite the chains, he'd tried to crawl away. He been rolled back, and shown a picture on a phone of who he'd forgotten. In the very background of the photo, he spotted the same person looking at him now. "What about all those people?" He breathed. "My coworkers? Why them? They didn't deserve to die." "...Well like you said earlier. I guess we're even." "I'm sorry." " I'm proud of you. I'm not." Oliver never even got his name. He simply slipped the 4x4 out of gear and began pushing it towards the water. Oliver's last images of the world he'd built for himself were of water and encroaching darkness. When the spring thaw came, only those still looking for their greatest adversary bothered to to do so.

[WP] "If I would kill you, then I wouldnt be any better than y...." "Are you serious? You just broke into my hideout and slaughtered 90% of my henchmen! At this point you caused more deaths than I have!"

"What!? No! They're all sleeping!" Destro's flames quickly extinguished as he reeled in shock. "… What?" asked Patriot, now also feeling a bit confused why Destro deactivated his flames. He was still levitating off the ground, ready for any sudden moves. "You think they're… what exactly?" asked Destro, his metallic voice being completely void of emotion. "Have I hit you so hard that you've gone deaf, Destro?" Patriot now floated himself upright. "They're sleeping." Destro's metallic body started glowing a mellow red. He pointed a finger at the ceiling, about 10 feet behind where the Patriot was levitating. "That guy is named Eric Witherspoon. He has a wife and a 3-year old son. He came to me asking for a job because nobody else hires anybody with a criminal record. You uppercut him so hard that he's now lodged in the ceiling boards and he hasn't so much as twitched a muscle." "Exactly my point! Sleeping!" Destro pointed to Patriot's left. "That guy is Mark Walton. He never finished high school because he had to take care of his grandma. The price of insulin went up so instead of a job flipping burgers, he took this job to pay for his grandma's insulin. You literally speared him through 6-inch steel doors to get in here." "And he's soundly asleep. What's the problem?" Destro could not process what he was hearing. The Patriot genuinely believed that all the people he'd hit with the force of a speeding truck were just sound asleep. "… Patriot, you have x-ray vision, correct?" "Of course, how do you think I found your hideout?" "So you can see people's hearts, correct?" "… Yeah? You going somewhere with this?" Patriot uttered, starting to run out of patience. "Do people's hearts beat in their sleep?" "Of course. If your heart stops beating, you're dead. Everyone knows that." "Well, use your x-ray vision and look at the people in the room." "I'm not falling for your tricks, Destro." said Patriot, as he shifted into a fighting stance. "Fine. Deactive Firestorm Armor, code 7-3-Alpha-9-Gamma." Destro's armor powered down and opened to reveal the man inside. "There. Armor's off. I'm not a threat to you. Now, ***look at these people's hearts***." "Fine," Patriot lowered himself to the floor. His blue eyes turned into a washed-out grey and he began looking around the room. "I'm telling you these guys are…" Patriot's voice trailed off. "These guys are… oh… oh no." Patriot started moving to each body around the room with his super speed to take a closer look. He lightly slapped their cheeks to see if they'll wake. "Nooo. No no no nonononononono." Patriot kept looking at Destro… hoping. "This can't be right." Patriot looked up at the ceiling. His eyes returned to their usual color, and he let out a lightly powered eye laser beam at a sprinkler. *FSHHHH* The room started raining with water from the sprinkler system. Patriot kept zooming around to each body and tapping their faces again, this time with the water from the sprinklers raining gently on them. But nobody he checked on, moved. "… Oh god" --- r/KenTZWrites for a "best of" collection of my writings. :)

Avenger's armoured suit cut deep into his shoulders, it's black metallic mesh hugging his chest in a tight embrace. Long strands of hair fell past dark sunglasses, sticking to his sweat covered face in thick clumps. Relaxed fingers systematically picked at the metallic pockmarks adorning his chest, idly flicking the spent bullets to the ground with a clang. "Are you even listening?!" The doctor panted, starring up at the towering figure with a malevolent gaze. "Henchman." He snorted, lazily waving a hand at the blood slowly creeping into the cracks of concentrate floor. "Henchboys would be more accurate with shooting like that." "Don't you even care?! They were people, they had hope's, dreams, they had families for Gods sake." "Oh I care deeply." Avenger smiled, kicking a cold hand carelessly with a heavy boot. "Indeed I feel bad that I couldn't kill the other 10%." "You son of a bitch, you wanted to kill them. You didn't come here for some notion of justice or heroism, did you? All you wanted was to murder." The Doctor shouted. Avenger stepped towards the man deliberately, crunching loose stones under his heavy boots as he moved. He crouched down bringing his face close enough to smell the sour stench of the Doctors breath. "I'm not concerned with petty things like murder. But you're right I didn't come here for justice in fact I really don't care who you hurt or what you've done. You know what's going to happen once this is all done, they'll pin a medal on my chest and sing my praises, hell I might even get a movie deal. The Masked Avenger vs Doctor Desperado, sounds pretty good doesn't it." "Just kill me and get it over with." The Doctor pleaded. "Now that wouldn't be good PR would it?"  Avenger mocked. "If you don't I will tell the world everything, the truth of what you are." A thin smile crept over Avengers face. "And why would they believe you? After all you're the villain."

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

This place was much prettier in person than in the distant corners of my mind. I was wandering around my old stomping grounds. This town was a far cry from the corporate hellhole I knew it'd become in the coming decades. Quaint houses lined the streets here, and the greenery was fairly abundant; I just wished I had the strength to explore every nook and cranny of this place again. But the ache in my legs and back just served as proof that I was far past my prime. That was why I was here. Overpopulation proved to be quite problematic in the years to come, and the bastards running things decided to run a lottery, using newly-found time travel technology to send retirees, and anyone else who couldn't work, back to a random point in time. And I drew the short end of the stick. I could've complained about it. My friends and family were either non-existent, or just mere children at this point in time, and the technology I would come to use every day didn't exist yet. But, I could've gotten it worse. At least I wasn't one of the people who got sent to the Dark Ages. In fact, if my math was correct, I'd be precisely... seven years old at this point. Give or take. "Excuse me." I was so deep in thought, I almost ran into a boy. He seemed to be in a hurry, and as I turned around and looked at him, his ruffled blonde hair, worn jeans, and red t-shirt to top it off struck me as familiar. In fact, everything, from the afternoon sunlight to the faint smell of fabric softener in the air, seemed familiar. A memory I had long since forgotten popped into my mind. Something about an old man trying to bestow his wisdom upon me... And as I watched the boy walk away, I felt a sudden compulsion to re-enact it. "Oliver?" That was my name, and I knew it'd be the boy's name too. As expected, he turned around and cautiously approached me. "...Yes?" I racked my brain to try and remember what that old man told me all those years ago. Nothing came to mind, and as I realized this, the boy seemed to start losing interest. "Uh, I wanted to tell you something." I quickly added. This regained the boy's interest, but he seemed antsy. I could tell he wanted to be somewhere, and with the slightly annoyed look he was giving me, I knew I had to make it fast. I wondered what wisdom I could give him. I had grown cynical over the latter half of my life. I had seen good people succumb to pride and greed, and I learned that power and corruption come hand in hand. But these were hardly good lessons to teach a young kid. So I mustered the best piece of advice I could think of: "Just... send love to your family. And to your friends. Time flies when you're older, and things change before you know it. So... enjoy what you have while you have it." I met his confused gaze with a gentle smile of my own. I didn't expect him to fully understand. I knew I didn't back then. But I also knew that he would come to understand eventually. I was also just happy that my old, bumbling self still had something worthwhile to say. "Uh, thanks?" The kid replied, evidently confused by what I told him, and by the interaction as whole. "But I oughta be going now..." The kid backed away, as if to make sure I wouldn't follow. I simply gave him a small wave before he turned around and quickly walked away. I wistfully watched him, remembering when my own life was simple and sweet. I hoped that whatever time I had left could be the same.

As the young boy approached the old man painfully hobbled to him. He waved the child closer and reluctantly the boy did so. “Sup little punk bitch!?” The boy confusedly replied “huh?” “Mark-ass trick-ass denis the menace ass fool” the old man replied. Before the boy could reply the old man said matter of factly “I’m a baby bird”. The old man left the young boy in the park and walked into the bar he frequented everyday. He took a stool and ordered his usual pint. “How the hell are ya hank?” The bartender said setting down an overflowing cold pint. “I just ran into the biggest little punk bitch I’ve ever seen”. Hank chugged his pint. “Cheep cheep motherfucker”. The old man’s heart stopped and he slumped over and died for the first time that day. “Oh that Hank...” chuckled the bartender. “What a hoot”. The End

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

This place was much prettier in person than in the distant corners of my mind. I was wandering around my old stomping grounds. This town was a far cry from the corporate hellhole I knew it'd become in the coming decades. Quaint houses lined the streets here, and the greenery was fairly abundant; I just wished I had the strength to explore every nook and cranny of this place again. But the ache in my legs and back just served as proof that I was far past my prime. That was why I was here. Overpopulation proved to be quite problematic in the years to come, and the bastards running things decided to run a lottery, using newly-found time travel technology to send retirees, and anyone else who couldn't work, back to a random point in time. And I drew the short end of the stick. I could've complained about it. My friends and family were either non-existent, or just mere children at this point in time, and the technology I would come to use every day didn't exist yet. But, I could've gotten it worse. At least I wasn't one of the people who got sent to the Dark Ages. In fact, if my math was correct, I'd be precisely... seven years old at this point. Give or take. "Excuse me." I was so deep in thought, I almost ran into a boy. He seemed to be in a hurry, and as I turned around and looked at him, his ruffled blonde hair, worn jeans, and red t-shirt to top it off struck me as familiar. In fact, everything, from the afternoon sunlight to the faint smell of fabric softener in the air, seemed familiar. A memory I had long since forgotten popped into my mind. Something about an old man trying to bestow his wisdom upon me... And as I watched the boy walk away, I felt a sudden compulsion to re-enact it. "Oliver?" That was my name, and I knew it'd be the boy's name too. As expected, he turned around and cautiously approached me. "...Yes?" I racked my brain to try and remember what that old man told me all those years ago. Nothing came to mind, and as I realized this, the boy seemed to start losing interest. "Uh, I wanted to tell you something." I quickly added. This regained the boy's interest, but he seemed antsy. I could tell he wanted to be somewhere, and with the slightly annoyed look he was giving me, I knew I had to make it fast. I wondered what wisdom I could give him. I had grown cynical over the latter half of my life. I had seen good people succumb to pride and greed, and I learned that power and corruption come hand in hand. But these were hardly good lessons to teach a young kid. So I mustered the best piece of advice I could think of: "Just... send love to your family. And to your friends. Time flies when you're older, and things change before you know it. So... enjoy what you have while you have it." I met his confused gaze with a gentle smile of my own. I didn't expect him to fully understand. I knew I didn't back then. But I also knew that he would come to understand eventually. I was also just happy that my old, bumbling self still had something worthwhile to say. "Uh, thanks?" The kid replied, evidently confused by what I told him, and by the interaction as whole. "But I oughta be going now..." The kid backed away, as if to make sure I wouldn't follow. I simply gave him a small wave before he turned around and quickly walked away. I wistfully watched him, remembering when my own life was simple and sweet. I hoped that whatever time I had left could be the same.

I walked down the path of old town for the first time since the accident, alone. She had been the light in my life, the air in my lungs, the very blood the flowed through my heart. Without her, what else am I? A light sprinkle of rain clattered down on the old street. The water was cool as it ran down my face and I could not decide whether it was entirely the rain that wet my face. The rain washed away the dirt, but it could not cleanse the stain on my soul. Not this time. This location had always one of her favorite spots. We would come at dusk to sit on the metal benches to watch the light of the sun slowly dim through the spectrums of its brilliance, uncaring of the people who milled through their own lives, as if this place existed for us alone. Regret nagged at me. She had begged me to bring her back here, to let her experience this place with me one last time before the end. But in my stupidity and stubbornness I had denies her. “Once you are better,” I had promised. “The doctors say your prognosis is good. Just be patient.” “Patient…” I let the word hang in front of me like a sentence of death. The word brought me back to my childhood. An abusive drunk of a father, as cliché as it was. My mother, the gem that she was, would always caution patience. In the end, her patience paid off. She fought her way out of that relationship. She earned her freedom and in consequence, my own. She saved us from that life of misery. Since then, I had always exercised her same tenacity for patience. Isn’t it curious that the older we get the easier it is to wait, even when the strands of our lives are so close to snapping? I found our bench. The years had eroded the blue paint leaving dark stained metal pieces in its place. I turned towards the horizon. “I want you to watch the sunset one more time after I’m gone. When you do, I want you to remember me and then let me go.” Her final words to me echoed in my head. “But how can I live without you?” I had protested. Not necessarily to her, but to the universe that had wronged us both. “Just be patient,” She had replied. “Time will heal this and you can move on.” “Patient…” The sun began its transition of colors. Not a moment later a young boy sat next to me on the bench, ignoring the cold rain that must have soaked his pants. I turned my head and my vision was drawn away from the child towards his mother who smiled a smile that only a parent can know. The woman was so familiar, like a ghost of my past An umbrella shrouded my head. The boy was holding it between us covering us both from the cold rain. He stared at the horizon wordlessly and a small companionship grew between us. A comfortable silence between two people who temporarily walked a similar path. The sun eventually faded away as the street lights turned on to flick away the darkness. I turned towards the boy but once again my eye was caught by a large fellow pulling at the arm of the child’s mother. While he did not look decidedly rough with her, her face spoke all. “Thank you.” I finally spoke to the child who turned his bright eyes up at me. So full of hope still, but with that familiar touch of sadness just below the surface. “Do you do this often?” The boy asked. I knew that he asked for lack of anything else to say. “Not recently.” I replied. The moment shattered as the man whispered an obscenity to the woman. The ghost of my past came into full light as I recognized the scene as if re-watching an old movie. “It’s time to go.” She called out to the boy, her voice uneven. She reached out with a shaky hand. The boy clasped my arm just above the wrist. His pain was now plain for any to see. His eyes said more to me than any words he could have spoken. He spoke to the child that still lived in me as it lives in us all. He wanted me to take them from the situation, to save them. “Be patient,” I heard myself say. The boy looked downtrodden, but shook his head in agreement and wordlessly let go of my wrist to reach for his mother’s hand. They went to leave; the mother still being dragged along by the man. “Wait.” I called out, causing them to stop. The man gave me a glare, but I paid it no mind. I had dealt with his kind before, dealt with him before. He let the woman go and she stepped towards me. “I just wanted to shake your hand,” I said to her, clasping her hand in mine. “You are raising a fine young man.” The card slipped from my hand to hers and she hastily shoved her hands into her pocket to conceal it. “Thank you.” She replied. And like that, they walked away. The boy favored his left leg, the right limping slightly alongside it. I thought back again to my childhood. My mother had called a family practice lawyer who helped her get the assistance she needed to leave. It was what had led me into my profession as a family practice lawyer, it was where I had met my wife. “Patience…” I said again. But this time, the word granted me a small amount of comfort. I limped along the street with a renewed conviction.

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

This place was much prettier in person than in the distant corners of my mind. I was wandering around my old stomping grounds. This town was a far cry from the corporate hellhole I knew it'd become in the coming decades. Quaint houses lined the streets here, and the greenery was fairly abundant; I just wished I had the strength to explore every nook and cranny of this place again. But the ache in my legs and back just served as proof that I was far past my prime. That was why I was here. Overpopulation proved to be quite problematic in the years to come, and the bastards running things decided to run a lottery, using newly-found time travel technology to send retirees, and anyone else who couldn't work, back to a random point in time. And I drew the short end of the stick. I could've complained about it. My friends and family were either non-existent, or just mere children at this point in time, and the technology I would come to use every day didn't exist yet. But, I could've gotten it worse. At least I wasn't one of the people who got sent to the Dark Ages. In fact, if my math was correct, I'd be precisely... seven years old at this point. Give or take. "Excuse me." I was so deep in thought, I almost ran into a boy. He seemed to be in a hurry, and as I turned around and looked at him, his ruffled blonde hair, worn jeans, and red t-shirt to top it off struck me as familiar. In fact, everything, from the afternoon sunlight to the faint smell of fabric softener in the air, seemed familiar. A memory I had long since forgotten popped into my mind. Something about an old man trying to bestow his wisdom upon me... And as I watched the boy walk away, I felt a sudden compulsion to re-enact it. "Oliver?" That was my name, and I knew it'd be the boy's name too. As expected, he turned around and cautiously approached me. "...Yes?" I racked my brain to try and remember what that old man told me all those years ago. Nothing came to mind, and as I realized this, the boy seemed to start losing interest. "Uh, I wanted to tell you something." I quickly added. This regained the boy's interest, but he seemed antsy. I could tell he wanted to be somewhere, and with the slightly annoyed look he was giving me, I knew I had to make it fast. I wondered what wisdom I could give him. I had grown cynical over the latter half of my life. I had seen good people succumb to pride and greed, and I learned that power and corruption come hand in hand. But these were hardly good lessons to teach a young kid. So I mustered the best piece of advice I could think of: "Just... send love to your family. And to your friends. Time flies when you're older, and things change before you know it. So... enjoy what you have while you have it." I met his confused gaze with a gentle smile of my own. I didn't expect him to fully understand. I knew I didn't back then. But I also knew that he would come to understand eventually. I was also just happy that my old, bumbling self still had something worthwhile to say. "Uh, thanks?" The kid replied, evidently confused by what I told him, and by the interaction as whole. "But I oughta be going now..." The kid backed away, as if to make sure I wouldn't follow. I simply gave him a small wave before he turned around and quickly walked away. I wistfully watched him, remembering when my own life was simple and sweet. I hoped that whatever time I had left could be the same.

Was this really happening? I had heard about this sort of thing in movies and stories and always wondered about the things I would tell myself. Regrets I had. Things I would change. But now the moment was upon me. I thought back on my life and wondered if I would have lived it any other way. It maybe wasn't the perfect life but I wouldn't change it for anything. "One sec kid." I stopped him, trying to remember the advice I had received back then. "Yea what is it gramps?" Gramps? Geeze I didn't remember being this rude. "Stay sharp and stay focused." I thought back, hoping if the universe was a stable time-loop the exact wording would sort itself out "Your mind is your greatest tool, but tools can't do anything by themselves. They need hard workers to get the job done." He just stared at me "You're being weird." My past self turned and opened the gate to the house next to us. Wait was this my childhood home? I saw a familiar man standing at the doorway watching us. "Hi Dad!" my past self yelled and waved, running up the gravel pathway to the house. That was when I realized how bad it looked for a strange old man to be talking to his son. My dad approached. He looked a lot different than I remembered. I turned and started hobbling away as fast as my frail body could carry me. He quickly caught up to my limping pace and grabbed my shoulder. We both spoke at the same time. "Dad." We both paused. Did he just call me dad? "Come on Dad, lets go back inside," he put his arm around me and guided me back towards the house. "you know you're not supposed to wander around outside by yourself. "

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

This place was much prettier in person than in the distant corners of my mind. I was wandering around my old stomping grounds. This town was a far cry from the corporate hellhole I knew it'd become in the coming decades. Quaint houses lined the streets here, and the greenery was fairly abundant; I just wished I had the strength to explore every nook and cranny of this place again. But the ache in my legs and back just served as proof that I was far past my prime. That was why I was here. Overpopulation proved to be quite problematic in the years to come, and the bastards running things decided to run a lottery, using newly-found time travel technology to send retirees, and anyone else who couldn't work, back to a random point in time. And I drew the short end of the stick. I could've complained about it. My friends and family were either non-existent, or just mere children at this point in time, and the technology I would come to use every day didn't exist yet. But, I could've gotten it worse. At least I wasn't one of the people who got sent to the Dark Ages. In fact, if my math was correct, I'd be precisely... seven years old at this point. Give or take. "Excuse me." I was so deep in thought, I almost ran into a boy. He seemed to be in a hurry, and as I turned around and looked at him, his ruffled blonde hair, worn jeans, and red t-shirt to top it off struck me as familiar. In fact, everything, from the afternoon sunlight to the faint smell of fabric softener in the air, seemed familiar. A memory I had long since forgotten popped into my mind. Something about an old man trying to bestow his wisdom upon me... And as I watched the boy walk away, I felt a sudden compulsion to re-enact it. "Oliver?" That was my name, and I knew it'd be the boy's name too. As expected, he turned around and cautiously approached me. "...Yes?" I racked my brain to try and remember what that old man told me all those years ago. Nothing came to mind, and as I realized this, the boy seemed to start losing interest. "Uh, I wanted to tell you something." I quickly added. This regained the boy's interest, but he seemed antsy. I could tell he wanted to be somewhere, and with the slightly annoyed look he was giving me, I knew I had to make it fast. I wondered what wisdom I could give him. I had grown cynical over the latter half of my life. I had seen good people succumb to pride and greed, and I learned that power and corruption come hand in hand. But these were hardly good lessons to teach a young kid. So I mustered the best piece of advice I could think of: "Just... send love to your family. And to your friends. Time flies when you're older, and things change before you know it. So... enjoy what you have while you have it." I met his confused gaze with a gentle smile of my own. I didn't expect him to fully understand. I knew I didn't back then. But I also knew that he would come to understand eventually. I was also just happy that my old, bumbling self still had something worthwhile to say. "Uh, thanks?" The kid replied, evidently confused by what I told him, and by the interaction as whole. "But I oughta be going now..." The kid backed away, as if to make sure I wouldn't follow. I simply gave him a small wave before he turned around and quickly walked away. I wistfully watched him, remembering when my own life was simple and sweet. I hoped that whatever time I had left could be the same.

I always liked this part of town. It never seemed to change. The smell of fresh pastries from Dawry's Bakery always put me in a good mood, and the doughnuts were good to boot. I was on my way to Tony's to see what i could get from his morning's catch. It's been a while since I stopped by and i missed the old dirt bag. That's when I saw him. There in front of Catherine's candle shop was a small boy, dirty brown hair in grass stained jeans. Seven years old, almost eight. I know this because I know him. His name is Alfred Statesly. He lives with his Aunt up the road, and he gets into trouble from time to time, but he's a good kid. 70 years ago when I was his age a strange old man bought me ice cream and gave me sage advice I was way too young to comprehend. I was hungry that day though and welcomed the food. I suppose it was now my turn to pass wisdom down. A responsibility of one generation to the next. "Hello, young man." The boy just stared. "It's Alfred, Right?" "People just call my Alfy", he corrected. I couldn't help but smile and the childish name. "Are you hungry, Alfy?" He hace a slight nod. "A little bit." "Here, you can have my doughnut." The boy cocked his head uncertainly. "It's Fresh." I replied. "Why don't you want, mister?" He asked suspiciously. "Because you're more hungry than I am, and I want to help. If there is one thing I know Alfy, is that it is always worth it to be kind." That eased his mind. Little Alfy took the fresh pastry. And with that I took my leave and continued on. I arrived at Tony's a few minutes later. "WELL, WELL, WELL" Tony's voice carried heavily in a true sailor's bellow. A large man in his day, though never as big as his ego. "If it isn't Mr. Statesly, finally returning from his big adventure." "Morning Tiny" I watched him twitch at the name. "Catch anything today, or have you been getting old". I said as a pointed to the empty cutting table. "Looks like I caught and old friend." He said pouring two cups of black coffee. "Nice to see you again Alfred, what's new?"

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts? How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me? It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could. “Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu. “Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me. “You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude? I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain. “Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.” “She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind. The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love. “Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself. “Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it. “Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time. Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it. “Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself? “Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.” No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

The pop-pop of a two stroke motorcycle clattered past me, driver and pillion beaming at the glorious day. The distant rustle of leaves sheltered passers-by as they enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the park. Overhead, an idyllic sky let the sun cast its warming glow onto the bustling metropolis below. I stretched, a slow and leisurely motion. I was in no rush, not since my beloved had passed away two summers gone. Since then my arthritis had only gotten worse, and coupled with end stage kidney disease causing excessive oedema of my lower legs, walking and getting out was becoming quite burdensome. I yearned for the joyful naivete of youth, when the world was an oyster, waiting to be pried open and enjoyed. Now though, I lingered in a retirement home, content with my lot, but knowing that it was not a place to live, rather a place to die. I'd signed the paperwork as soon as she'd passed. The 'Do Not Attempt Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation' document sat in my front pocket, easily visible should anyone seek to bring me back from the edge of the abyss. Chances are, my body wouldn't survive even the best attempts to bring me back now, a thought which brought me much solace. It was just a waiting game. I looked around, basking in the virility and limitless kinetic energy that the city had. I thought back to my own childhood, when as a young boy my parents had taken me to this very park. I remembered walking a hundred or so yards ahead of them, when an old and ailing man stopped me. He'd said something to me back then, given me a nugget of wisdom that I took deep within myself and had quietly adhered to. It was that same piece of knowledge that funded my adventures with my beloved, my children through private school, and now my bumbling existence in the retirement home. A soft patter of childish feet awoke me from my reverie, the sound getting closer and mingling with the whistful humming of daydreaming youth. To my left was the culprit, a boy who looked remarkably similar to how I did when I was a young and spritely fellow. In fact, the boy looked far too similar to how I used to look. Taking this as my cue, I chuckled to myself and thought about what would happen if I gave this doppelganger the same piece of advice I'd been given. If nothing else, it may bring me a chuckle when I retire to isolation at the home. Cracking the silence my joints had been enjoying, I roused myself to standing and approached the young boy. He looked up at me, big brown eyes full of innocence and hope. I leant forward conspiratorially, and changed his world forever. "Apes together stronk. Diamond hands. To the moon!"

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

It was early afternoon and I was walking home after a late lunch that Monday under the cool autumn sun, rubbing my potbelly with a wrinkled hand and a bittersweet sigh. The food had been expensive, but it was a day where I needed comfort food. Not just any comfort food… the ultimate comfort food that I only saved for special occasions. The steak cooked at Harbmore’s that had been my favorite for as long as I could remember, that I had eaten in celebration during every graduation and celebration throughout my life. It helped ease the severe melancholy I often felt nowadays into nostalgia as warm as the food in my belly. *Ah, if only I could go back and redo my life…* A strong breeze tugged at my hat, causing me to hold it against my head, and tore at my jacket. The trees swayed at the strength of the sudden gust. I opened my eyes. The sidewalk had been crowded, but now nobody was around. Nobody except for a child standing across from me a little way down the sidewalk. I looked at the little boy and he looked back at me. Even from the hundred meters or so that separated us, his features were striking to me. His dark hair, his nose, his facial structure, that school uniform… *That face… he looks uncannily like me. It’s so similar it’s actually scary*, I thought. At first, I thought I was hallucinating visions of my past into reality. However, I closed my eyes and opened them to confirm multiple times. But still, it couldn’t be me… Then I remembered and an icy shiver ran down my spine. When I was 7 years old, I met a creepy old guy as I was walking on this street. For some reason, that meeting had given me such a weird feeling that I hadn’t forgotten it since. *That old guy all those decades ago was me after all…* I thought. For some reason, I chuckled. Then I burst out laughing, with almost hysterical intensity. *I never knew I was this crazy. That my fantasies could break reality like this…* *Hah, take that, world! You think I’m a useless geezer that's about to die, but I’m still kicking!* The kid’s eyes widened. I quickly stopped laughing. *Wait! This means I have the opportunity to talk to myself seventy years ago. There’s so much I want to tell myself, so much I can fix! How do I even start…* I walked forward, opening my mouth and revealing my missing teeth. The kid’s face crumpled in fear, like he was about to cry, and stepped backward. “Wait…” I said, “Don’t go.” I uselessly reached out an arm after him. Maybe it was the sheer desperation in my voice, but the kid froze. I stepped towards him, ever so slowly, ever so gently, buying time as my mind raced. *What can I say… what can I say… He’s just a kid. What can I tell him that he’ll remember? If he forgets, then there’s no use. It has to be one thing then…* What is the one thing I want to change the most in my life? *I could tell him how to get rich with stocks or something… but how do I tell that to a kid? I could give him general advice so I don’t have so many regrets… or maybe to eat more while he’s young so he gets a little taller? Wait, no, why would I waste this on something like that…* I stopped in front of the kid and looked at his face. His skin was so smooth, his face and arms were still chubby. He was so precious and small, like a kitten. My mind blanked out. I couldn’t think of anything to say. He melted my heart. I wanted to protect him. I didn’t want to see his face crinkle in fear or confusion as he looked fearfully at me, an old decrepit man with a potbelly and rotting teeth who was basically at death’s door. I smiled at him warmly. “You know what. Don’t change anything,” I said, “Just remember this. Whatever you do… know that I’m proud of you.” My throat constricted for some reason as I said the words. The boy met my eyes for a heartbeat, sensing the genuine emotion within them… Then he ran past me and away down the street without saying a word. The strong wind blew again. I had to hold my arm to protect my eyes. After the wind died down, I looked behind me and the kid was gone. ___ r/WanderWilder for more stories!

The pop-pop of a two stroke motorcycle clattered past me, driver and pillion beaming at the glorious day. The distant rustle of leaves sheltered passers-by as they enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the park. Overhead, an idyllic sky let the sun cast its warming glow onto the bustling metropolis below. I stretched, a slow and leisurely motion. I was in no rush, not since my beloved had passed away two summers gone. Since then my arthritis had only gotten worse, and coupled with end stage kidney disease causing excessive oedema of my lower legs, walking and getting out was becoming quite burdensome. I yearned for the joyful naivete of youth, when the world was an oyster, waiting to be pried open and enjoyed. Now though, I lingered in a retirement home, content with my lot, but knowing that it was not a place to live, rather a place to die. I'd signed the paperwork as soon as she'd passed. The 'Do Not Attempt Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation' document sat in my front pocket, easily visible should anyone seek to bring me back from the edge of the abyss. Chances are, my body wouldn't survive even the best attempts to bring me back now, a thought which brought me much solace. It was just a waiting game. I looked around, basking in the virility and limitless kinetic energy that the city had. I thought back to my own childhood, when as a young boy my parents had taken me to this very park. I remembered walking a hundred or so yards ahead of them, when an old and ailing man stopped me. He'd said something to me back then, given me a nugget of wisdom that I took deep within myself and had quietly adhered to. It was that same piece of knowledge that funded my adventures with my beloved, my children through private school, and now my bumbling existence in the retirement home. A soft patter of childish feet awoke me from my reverie, the sound getting closer and mingling with the whistful humming of daydreaming youth. To my left was the culprit, a boy who looked remarkably similar to how I did when I was a young and spritely fellow. In fact, the boy looked far too similar to how I used to look. Taking this as my cue, I chuckled to myself and thought about what would happen if I gave this doppelganger the same piece of advice I'd been given. If nothing else, it may bring me a chuckle when I retire to isolation at the home. Cracking the silence my joints had been enjoying, I roused myself to standing and approached the young boy. He looked up at me, big brown eyes full of innocence and hope. I leant forward conspiratorially, and changed his world forever. "Apes together stronk. Diamond hands. To the moon!"

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

There I was. Astonishingly small. Looking up at everything with polite curiousity as I made my way down the square. I almost gasped at the sight of my younger self. I rose to my feet, the rags that barely covered my modesty shook, threatening to crumble away as I swatted the flies away and tried to make myself look somewhat less decrepit, less unapproachable. I vaguely recalled it. It felt like a deja vu of a deja vu. All those years ago and in this square. The old man that was just me in the decades to come. What had I said? What had I said? Am I doomed to repeat what I said to myself again? No! What I had said had not made sense. I would have remembered! No. I had to be clear, and use my words in a way a 7 year old child would understand. I cursed my unkempt beard and matted hair. How could I get through to myself without appearing mad? Was I mad? The child looked nothing like me, I realized. Was it even me? Why would there be a younger version of me walking around? No. It was me. It had to be. I remembered an old man talking to me in this very square, hadn't I? Had I? Stop it. "Kheng Ian," I called. But my voice had not seen use in days. It came out hoarse and raspy and soft. I cleared my throat, spitting up a thick globule of phlegm. "Kheng Ian!" I shouted desperately, hoping he'd turn to look. He did. Joy rose within me as the boy tried to find the source of the sound, and when his eyes met mine he frowned. I nodded at him, beckoning him. My plan to look approachable all but forgotten as I stared wide-eyed at myself from the past. From the past? Then how was I here? No matter. Maybe he had the explanations. What was I thinking? He was a child. I was a child. As the young self made his way cautiously towards this dirt-stained, ghastly begger apparition, I tried to form the thoughts that would become the words that I had to relay to him. What is it? I had to tell him something! Why could I not remember? Why could I not remember anything? He stopped a little ways away, turning his nose. I probably smelled. "I am you!" I said, nodding vigorously. He squinted at me. "I am what you'll become! You need to stop it!" I said, smiling. Yes. This was how. If I could advise him against the decisions that led to this. What were those decisions again? Why was it so hard to remember? "I am what you'll become." The younger version repeated what I said back to me. I faltered. What? "What?" I balked. "In 700 years the cycle will begin anew." "What?" "Memory is a fickle thing. We are cursed with the life of a phoenix." I stared at the boy, who smiled a little sadly as he dug around in his pocket, before flipping a coin towards me. I caught it, barely. "Remember yourself." The boy advised before moving on. I stared as he walked away, his small figure getting smaller and smaller before he disappeared around a corner, not once looking back. I looked at the coin he had thrown at me. It was a heavy coin, thick with simple detailing and design. But not of any currency I recognized. ***777***, it read on one side, and on the other side there was a crest of a bird, talons and wings outstretched, breathing flames that curled around the circumference of the coin face. No. Not a bird. A phoenix. And then I remembered.

The pop-pop of a two stroke motorcycle clattered past me, driver and pillion beaming at the glorious day. The distant rustle of leaves sheltered passers-by as they enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the park. Overhead, an idyllic sky let the sun cast its warming glow onto the bustling metropolis below. I stretched, a slow and leisurely motion. I was in no rush, not since my beloved had passed away two summers gone. Since then my arthritis had only gotten worse, and coupled with end stage kidney disease causing excessive oedema of my lower legs, walking and getting out was becoming quite burdensome. I yearned for the joyful naivete of youth, when the world was an oyster, waiting to be pried open and enjoyed. Now though, I lingered in a retirement home, content with my lot, but knowing that it was not a place to live, rather a place to die. I'd signed the paperwork as soon as she'd passed. The 'Do Not Attempt Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation' document sat in my front pocket, easily visible should anyone seek to bring me back from the edge of the abyss. Chances are, my body wouldn't survive even the best attempts to bring me back now, a thought which brought me much solace. It was just a waiting game. I looked around, basking in the virility and limitless kinetic energy that the city had. I thought back to my own childhood, when as a young boy my parents had taken me to this very park. I remembered walking a hundred or so yards ahead of them, when an old and ailing man stopped me. He'd said something to me back then, given me a nugget of wisdom that I took deep within myself and had quietly adhered to. It was that same piece of knowledge that funded my adventures with my beloved, my children through private school, and now my bumbling existence in the retirement home. A soft patter of childish feet awoke me from my reverie, the sound getting closer and mingling with the whistful humming of daydreaming youth. To my left was the culprit, a boy who looked remarkably similar to how I did when I was a young and spritely fellow. In fact, the boy looked far too similar to how I used to look. Taking this as my cue, I chuckled to myself and thought about what would happen if I gave this doppelganger the same piece of advice I'd been given. If nothing else, it may bring me a chuckle when I retire to isolation at the home. Cracking the silence my joints had been enjoying, I roused myself to standing and approached the young boy. He looked up at me, big brown eyes full of innocence and hope. I leant forward conspiratorially, and changed his world forever. "Apes together stronk. Diamond hands. To the moon!"

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

*So she was right after all.* *It's all cyclical.* I smiled in regret as I shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled toward him- the young boy sitting on the park bench, head buried in his Gameboy. I led with my cane and used it as a pivot to sit down next to him. My knees popped as they always did when I bent them, loud enough to draw the boy's attention away from his screen. His hair still had a lot of blonde in it- it would darken with age to a deep brown, and then he'd grow it out once he started skateboarding. "Hey, there," I croaked before coughing once to clear my throat. "Hey," he said in a disinterested tone. "What are you playing?" "Pokemon." His answers were short. I could tell by the screen he was fighting a gym leader, and decided to let him finish before continuing. "You won," I said with a smile. "I always win," he said apathetically before sipping on his caprisun. I looked around at the beauty of the park for a moment before pulling a bag from my pocket. My old hands trembled as I undid the ziploc and reached for the duckfeed within. "That's such an old man thing to do," he laughed. I smiled, "You'd be amazed the things you do when you truly miss someone..." He lowered his game and watched as I spread the feed. Ducks raced from the pond up the grassy knoll and over to the bench where they quickly wolfed down the feed. "You miss somebody?" He asked innocently. "Why don't you go see them?" "I think I'm about to," I said as I dug back into the bag and spread more feed. He turned his eyes back toward his game and muttered, "that's good." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye before adjusting my glasses, "Can I ask you something?" "Sure," he said quickly. "What do you feel... is important in life?" He shrugged his shoulders, "getting a job. Having a family." I chuckled lightly to myself, transitioning into a cough before tossing more duck feed, "No, that's the answer you think I want to hear." I saw him turn to me in my peripheral vision. "Tell me, what do *you* think is important in life?" He faced forward staring out at the pond for several seconds before saving his game and turning it off. He shoved the device into his pocket and sighed, "I want to travel the world. Far and wide." "I see," I responded. "You should do it." "I'm gonna," he said nonchalantly. "Soon as I make enough money." "It'll never be enough," I shot back. "You don't want to be an old man looking back on what could have been. Take the risk. You'll find your way." He sighed as though he were tired of listening to me. I understood. "When I was young," I began. "I never liked when strangers would just come up and talk to me for no reason. It's funny how as you get older... You'd do anything for someone just to listen..." "I don't think I'm gonna be old for a long time," he said in his monotone way as he watched the ducks. "It happens fast," I said just above a whisper. "It happens when you're not looking. When that Wednesday you don't remember disappears..." "Huh?" "Do me a favor, kid..." I turned and smiled at him, "hug your dad. Make sure he knows he's your hero." He cocked his head, "What?" I stood up and emptied the remaining contents of the bag before leaning forward on my cane. "Life isn't a cartoon. You're not the main character." "I know that!" He said in an insulted tone. "Your body has limits. Listen to them." He stayed quiet as I watched the water shimmer on the lake. I turned to see him but he was gone. When my eyes returned to the lake, there was a man in white standing in the middle. I dropped my cane to the ground and shuffled toward the water. The people standing behind him. I knew all of them. - - - r/a15MinuteMythos

The pop-pop of a two stroke motorcycle clattered past me, driver and pillion beaming at the glorious day. The distant rustle of leaves sheltered passers-by as they enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the park. Overhead, an idyllic sky let the sun cast its warming glow onto the bustling metropolis below. I stretched, a slow and leisurely motion. I was in no rush, not since my beloved had passed away two summers gone. Since then my arthritis had only gotten worse, and coupled with end stage kidney disease causing excessive oedema of my lower legs, walking and getting out was becoming quite burdensome. I yearned for the joyful naivete of youth, when the world was an oyster, waiting to be pried open and enjoyed. Now though, I lingered in a retirement home, content with my lot, but knowing that it was not a place to live, rather a place to die. I'd signed the paperwork as soon as she'd passed. The 'Do Not Attempt Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation' document sat in my front pocket, easily visible should anyone seek to bring me back from the edge of the abyss. Chances are, my body wouldn't survive even the best attempts to bring me back now, a thought which brought me much solace. It was just a waiting game. I looked around, basking in the virility and limitless kinetic energy that the city had. I thought back to my own childhood, when as a young boy my parents had taken me to this very park. I remembered walking a hundred or so yards ahead of them, when an old and ailing man stopped me. He'd said something to me back then, given me a nugget of wisdom that I took deep within myself and had quietly adhered to. It was that same piece of knowledge that funded my adventures with my beloved, my children through private school, and now my bumbling existence in the retirement home. A soft patter of childish feet awoke me from my reverie, the sound getting closer and mingling with the whistful humming of daydreaming youth. To my left was the culprit, a boy who looked remarkably similar to how I did when I was a young and spritely fellow. In fact, the boy looked far too similar to how I used to look. Taking this as my cue, I chuckled to myself and thought about what would happen if I gave this doppelganger the same piece of advice I'd been given. If nothing else, it may bring me a chuckle when I retire to isolation at the home. Cracking the silence my joints had been enjoying, I roused myself to standing and approached the young boy. He looked up at me, big brown eyes full of innocence and hope. I leant forward conspiratorially, and changed his world forever. "Apes together stronk. Diamond hands. To the moon!"

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

The day I see this boy is a very cold day — or at least in my bones it is. They ache in the cold, always do. Such is life at my age, whatever age I am now. He looks exactly like I did, this boy walking towards me down the street. The red hair, freckles, the groove in his nose that looks like an invisible pencil‘s pressing hard against it. Strange how the memory can just be jogged like this after so long. That I remember once being him, being approached by what would one day be me. “Hey, kid,” I shout. “Kid!” He looks at me wide-eyed and frightened, as if I’m not an older version of him but some decrepit serial killer stepping out of retirement for one last job. Even if I was, why would I choose a kid like me though, eh? ”It’s okay,” I say, as I hobble up to the frozen boy. “I’m no killer!” I remember being frozen back then, too. On this street, no less — although it’d looked different then. Time has taken a sledgehammer to the city, has knocked down the big brick houses and movie theatre and most of the shops. In their place are tall steel and concrete offices. Places for worker ants to dally, whose queen was lost long ago so they’re not sure exactly why they’re still doing it. Time has taken a sledgehammer to me too, I realise. To think I once looked like this kid! Skin smooth as a fresh peach, now as wrinkled as tilled earth. Although there’s no dent on my nose like there is on this kid’s. “Mom says I shouldn’t speak to strangers.” ”Drivel!“ I tell him. ”It’s double drivel! You know, most crimes are carried out by people you already know? Strangers, well, sure, there’s a chance they’re bad. But better chance they’re good, don’t you think? Must be, if you go off the statistics. And I know you young people love statistics. They’re like your shields against reality: that can’t possibly be true because look at these numbers. Well I say it’s drivel!” He doesn’t say a word. Sometimes I can be a little overwhelming. It’s harder to get my point across these days. Sometimes, impossible. ”Lighten up,” I say. “I’m not a stranger. Does that help? I’m you from the future.” I wave with the hand not on my cane. “So we know each other better than anyone. Get it?” ”We do?” ”Sure we do! Does Mom still make muffins that collect up teeth in the sponge — so damn hard they are?’ There’s another memory slotting back into place; like a swallow that’s returned to its place of birth for its final season. I see Mom trying to bake me treats but with money she doesn’t have, so she has to mix the good ingredients with stale and bad ingredients. Cement, for all I knew. Damn things were hard on the teeth. ”She doesn’t make muffins.” ”Well she ought to! But I guess she’s changed with the times. Too unhealthy for kids, these days. Although you look skinny enough to handle a bagful of them. Hush up anyway. I want to tell you something.” He swallows so loud that I can hear it. ”What?” Huh. What do I want to tell him? What did future me tell me when I was a kid? I’m trying to remember because I think it must have been life-changing, but it’s hard to excavate — my mind’s all covered in dust these days. Real deep, thick dust. Do I want to tell him to marry the girl he falls in love with? Because thirty years of bliss is still somehow better than the emptiness that follows her death? Or am I meant to warn him not to marry her so he doesn’t end up this cracked old shell of himself? Or was it not about that at all? Was it what ice cream is best at the Minkey’s parlour that… that doesn’t exist anymore. “I got to go,” he says. ”My father was a researcher. A scientist,” I say. I say it urgently, frantically. As if the words are pumping air into a body on a hospital bed. It’s a thought I haven’t thought in fifty years, but suddenly it seems vert important. More important than anything in the world. ”Cool? I guess.” ”He worked hard each and every day. But one day, a few days before his retirement, he came home with a pack of beers and sank into the couch.” The boy doesn’t say anything. ”My mom asked him what was wrong, because he never drank. Never. He said: ‘Today I realised something. I realised that the most important thing I do during my working day is smiling at my secretary and asking how she is. That’s the only thing I do that truly matters.’“ The boy’s still silent. I think I want to explain the point of the story but I’m not even sure why I said it. It changed Dad, I think. For the better. Maybe it’ll change me and the kid too. Maybe it’ll save us. ”There you are!” says my daughter. She’s in her fifties and thinks she’s my parent now. She takes my hand and apologises to the boy. “Are you okay?” she asks, as she leads me down the street. ”Stop fussing,” I say as I look over my shoulder. But the boy’s already gone. “That was the most important conversation of my life. Of his life.” She smiles and kisses me forehead. “I know, Pa. It is every time.” I don’t know what she means. But I do know it was a cold day a little earlier, and that I’m feeling slightly warmer now. It’s those memories, I think, that tumble back occasionally. They’re like sticks floating by on the surface of a deep stream; I reach in and grab hold of them, shake off the water and put a light to them. That way they keep me warm one last time before they’re gone for good.

The pop-pop of a two stroke motorcycle clattered past me, driver and pillion beaming at the glorious day. The distant rustle of leaves sheltered passers-by as they enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the park. Overhead, an idyllic sky let the sun cast its warming glow onto the bustling metropolis below. I stretched, a slow and leisurely motion. I was in no rush, not since my beloved had passed away two summers gone. Since then my arthritis had only gotten worse, and coupled with end stage kidney disease causing excessive oedema of my lower legs, walking and getting out was becoming quite burdensome. I yearned for the joyful naivete of youth, when the world was an oyster, waiting to be pried open and enjoyed. Now though, I lingered in a retirement home, content with my lot, but knowing that it was not a place to live, rather a place to die. I'd signed the paperwork as soon as she'd passed. The 'Do Not Attempt Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation' document sat in my front pocket, easily visible should anyone seek to bring me back from the edge of the abyss. Chances are, my body wouldn't survive even the best attempts to bring me back now, a thought which brought me much solace. It was just a waiting game. I looked around, basking in the virility and limitless kinetic energy that the city had. I thought back to my own childhood, when as a young boy my parents had taken me to this very park. I remembered walking a hundred or so yards ahead of them, when an old and ailing man stopped me. He'd said something to me back then, given me a nugget of wisdom that I took deep within myself and had quietly adhered to. It was that same piece of knowledge that funded my adventures with my beloved, my children through private school, and now my bumbling existence in the retirement home. A soft patter of childish feet awoke me from my reverie, the sound getting closer and mingling with the whistful humming of daydreaming youth. To my left was the culprit, a boy who looked remarkably similar to how I did when I was a young and spritely fellow. In fact, the boy looked far too similar to how I used to look. Taking this as my cue, I chuckled to myself and thought about what would happen if I gave this doppelganger the same piece of advice I'd been given. If nothing else, it may bring me a chuckle when I retire to isolation at the home. Cracking the silence my joints had been enjoying, I roused myself to standing and approached the young boy. He looked up at me, big brown eyes full of innocence and hope. I leant forward conspiratorially, and changed his world forever. "Apes together stronk. Diamond hands. To the moon!"

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

It was early afternoon and I was walking home after a late lunch that Monday under the cool autumn sun, rubbing my potbelly with a wrinkled hand and a bittersweet sigh. The food had been expensive, but it was a day where I needed comfort food. Not just any comfort food… the ultimate comfort food that I only saved for special occasions. The steak cooked at Harbmore’s that had been my favorite for as long as I could remember, that I had eaten in celebration during every graduation and celebration throughout my life. It helped ease the severe melancholy I often felt nowadays into nostalgia as warm as the food in my belly. *Ah, if only I could go back and redo my life…* A strong breeze tugged at my hat, causing me to hold it against my head, and tore at my jacket. The trees swayed at the strength of the sudden gust. I opened my eyes. The sidewalk had been crowded, but now nobody was around. Nobody except for a child standing across from me a little way down the sidewalk. I looked at the little boy and he looked back at me. Even from the hundred meters or so that separated us, his features were striking to me. His dark hair, his nose, his facial structure, that school uniform… *That face… he looks uncannily like me. It’s so similar it’s actually scary*, I thought. At first, I thought I was hallucinating visions of my past into reality. However, I closed my eyes and opened them to confirm multiple times. But still, it couldn’t be me… Then I remembered and an icy shiver ran down my spine. When I was 7 years old, I met a creepy old guy as I was walking on this street. For some reason, that meeting had given me such a weird feeling that I hadn’t forgotten it since. *That old guy all those decades ago was me after all…* I thought. For some reason, I chuckled. Then I burst out laughing, with almost hysterical intensity. *I never knew I was this crazy. That my fantasies could break reality like this…* *Hah, take that, world! You think I’m a useless geezer that's about to die, but I’m still kicking!* The kid’s eyes widened. I quickly stopped laughing. *Wait! This means I have the opportunity to talk to myself seventy years ago. There’s so much I want to tell myself, so much I can fix! How do I even start…* I walked forward, opening my mouth and revealing my missing teeth. The kid’s face crumpled in fear, like he was about to cry, and stepped backward. “Wait…” I said, “Don’t go.” I uselessly reached out an arm after him. Maybe it was the sheer desperation in my voice, but the kid froze. I stepped towards him, ever so slowly, ever so gently, buying time as my mind raced. *What can I say… what can I say… He’s just a kid. What can I tell him that he’ll remember? If he forgets, then there’s no use. It has to be one thing then…* What is the one thing I want to change the most in my life? *I could tell him how to get rich with stocks or something… but how do I tell that to a kid? I could give him general advice so I don’t have so many regrets… or maybe to eat more while he’s young so he gets a little taller? Wait, no, why would I waste this on something like that…* I stopped in front of the kid and looked at his face. His skin was so smooth, his face and arms were still chubby. He was so precious and small, like a kitten. My mind blanked out. I couldn’t think of anything to say. He melted my heart. I wanted to protect him. I didn’t want to see his face crinkle in fear or confusion as he looked fearfully at me, an old decrepit man with a potbelly and rotting teeth who was basically at death’s door. I smiled at him warmly. “You know what. Don’t change anything,” I said, “Just remember this. Whatever you do… know that I’m proud of you.” My throat constricted for some reason as I said the words. The boy met my eyes for a heartbeat, sensing the genuine emotion within them… Then he ran past me and away down the street without saying a word. The strong wind blew again. I had to hold my arm to protect my eyes. After the wind died down, I looked behind me and the kid was gone. ___ r/WanderWilder for more stories!

Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts? How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me? It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could. “Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu. “Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me. “You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude? I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain. “Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.” “She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind. The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love. “Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself. “Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it. “Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time. Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it. “Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself? “Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.” No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

There I was. Astonishingly small. Looking up at everything with polite curiousity as I made my way down the square. I almost gasped at the sight of my younger self. I rose to my feet, the rags that barely covered my modesty shook, threatening to crumble away as I swatted the flies away and tried to make myself look somewhat less decrepit, less unapproachable. I vaguely recalled it. It felt like a deja vu of a deja vu. All those years ago and in this square. The old man that was just me in the decades to come. What had I said? What had I said? Am I doomed to repeat what I said to myself again? No! What I had said had not made sense. I would have remembered! No. I had to be clear, and use my words in a way a 7 year old child would understand. I cursed my unkempt beard and matted hair. How could I get through to myself without appearing mad? Was I mad? The child looked nothing like me, I realized. Was it even me? Why would there be a younger version of me walking around? No. It was me. It had to be. I remembered an old man talking to me in this very square, hadn't I? Had I? Stop it. "Kheng Ian," I called. But my voice had not seen use in days. It came out hoarse and raspy and soft. I cleared my throat, spitting up a thick globule of phlegm. "Kheng Ian!" I shouted desperately, hoping he'd turn to look. He did. Joy rose within me as the boy tried to find the source of the sound, and when his eyes met mine he frowned. I nodded at him, beckoning him. My plan to look approachable all but forgotten as I stared wide-eyed at myself from the past. From the past? Then how was I here? No matter. Maybe he had the explanations. What was I thinking? He was a child. I was a child. As the young self made his way cautiously towards this dirt-stained, ghastly begger apparition, I tried to form the thoughts that would become the words that I had to relay to him. What is it? I had to tell him something! Why could I not remember? Why could I not remember anything? He stopped a little ways away, turning his nose. I probably smelled. "I am you!" I said, nodding vigorously. He squinted at me. "I am what you'll become! You need to stop it!" I said, smiling. Yes. This was how. If I could advise him against the decisions that led to this. What were those decisions again? Why was it so hard to remember? "I am what you'll become." The younger version repeated what I said back to me. I faltered. What? "What?" I balked. "In 700 years the cycle will begin anew." "What?" "Memory is a fickle thing. We are cursed with the life of a phoenix." I stared at the boy, who smiled a little sadly as he dug around in his pocket, before flipping a coin towards me. I caught it, barely. "Remember yourself." The boy advised before moving on. I stared as he walked away, his small figure getting smaller and smaller before he disappeared around a corner, not once looking back. I looked at the coin he had thrown at me. It was a heavy coin, thick with simple detailing and design. But not of any currency I recognized. ***777***, it read on one side, and on the other side there was a crest of a bird, talons and wings outstretched, breathing flames that curled around the circumference of the coin face. No. Not a bird. A phoenix. And then I remembered.

Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts? How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me? It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could. “Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu. “Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me. “You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude? I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain. “Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.” “She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind. The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love. “Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself. “Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it. “Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time. Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it. “Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself? “Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.” No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

*So she was right after all.* *It's all cyclical.* I smiled in regret as I shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled toward him- the young boy sitting on the park bench, head buried in his Gameboy. I led with my cane and used it as a pivot to sit down next to him. My knees popped as they always did when I bent them, loud enough to draw the boy's attention away from his screen. His hair still had a lot of blonde in it- it would darken with age to a deep brown, and then he'd grow it out once he started skateboarding. "Hey, there," I croaked before coughing once to clear my throat. "Hey," he said in a disinterested tone. "What are you playing?" "Pokemon." His answers were short. I could tell by the screen he was fighting a gym leader, and decided to let him finish before continuing. "You won," I said with a smile. "I always win," he said apathetically before sipping on his caprisun. I looked around at the beauty of the park for a moment before pulling a bag from my pocket. My old hands trembled as I undid the ziploc and reached for the duckfeed within. "That's such an old man thing to do," he laughed. I smiled, "You'd be amazed the things you do when you truly miss someone..." He lowered his game and watched as I spread the feed. Ducks raced from the pond up the grassy knoll and over to the bench where they quickly wolfed down the feed. "You miss somebody?" He asked innocently. "Why don't you go see them?" "I think I'm about to," I said as I dug back into the bag and spread more feed. He turned his eyes back toward his game and muttered, "that's good." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye before adjusting my glasses, "Can I ask you something?" "Sure," he said quickly. "What do you feel... is important in life?" He shrugged his shoulders, "getting a job. Having a family." I chuckled lightly to myself, transitioning into a cough before tossing more duck feed, "No, that's the answer you think I want to hear." I saw him turn to me in my peripheral vision. "Tell me, what do *you* think is important in life?" He faced forward staring out at the pond for several seconds before saving his game and turning it off. He shoved the device into his pocket and sighed, "I want to travel the world. Far and wide." "I see," I responded. "You should do it." "I'm gonna," he said nonchalantly. "Soon as I make enough money." "It'll never be enough," I shot back. "You don't want to be an old man looking back on what could have been. Take the risk. You'll find your way." He sighed as though he were tired of listening to me. I understood. "When I was young," I began. "I never liked when strangers would just come up and talk to me for no reason. It's funny how as you get older... You'd do anything for someone just to listen..." "I don't think I'm gonna be old for a long time," he said in his monotone way as he watched the ducks. "It happens fast," I said just above a whisper. "It happens when you're not looking. When that Wednesday you don't remember disappears..." "Huh?" "Do me a favor, kid..." I turned and smiled at him, "hug your dad. Make sure he knows he's your hero." He cocked his head, "What?" I stood up and emptied the remaining contents of the bag before leaning forward on my cane. "Life isn't a cartoon. You're not the main character." "I know that!" He said in an insulted tone. "Your body has limits. Listen to them." He stayed quiet as I watched the water shimmer on the lake. I turned to see him but he was gone. When my eyes returned to the lake, there was a man in white standing in the middle. I dropped my cane to the ground and shuffled toward the water. The people standing behind him. I knew all of them. - - - r/a15MinuteMythos

Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts? How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me? It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could. “Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu. “Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me. “You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude? I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain. “Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.” “She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind. The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love. “Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself. “Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it. “Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time. Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it. “Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself? “Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.” No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

The day I see this boy is a very cold day — or at least in my bones it is. They ache in the cold, always do. Such is life at my age, whatever age I am now. He looks exactly like I did, this boy walking towards me down the street. The red hair, freckles, the groove in his nose that looks like an invisible pencil‘s pressing hard against it. Strange how the memory can just be jogged like this after so long. That I remember once being him, being approached by what would one day be me. “Hey, kid,” I shout. “Kid!” He looks at me wide-eyed and frightened, as if I’m not an older version of him but some decrepit serial killer stepping out of retirement for one last job. Even if I was, why would I choose a kid like me though, eh? ”It’s okay,” I say, as I hobble up to the frozen boy. “I’m no killer!” I remember being frozen back then, too. On this street, no less — although it’d looked different then. Time has taken a sledgehammer to the city, has knocked down the big brick houses and movie theatre and most of the shops. In their place are tall steel and concrete offices. Places for worker ants to dally, whose queen was lost long ago so they’re not sure exactly why they’re still doing it. Time has taken a sledgehammer to me too, I realise. To think I once looked like this kid! Skin smooth as a fresh peach, now as wrinkled as tilled earth. Although there’s no dent on my nose like there is on this kid’s. “Mom says I shouldn’t speak to strangers.” ”Drivel!“ I tell him. ”It’s double drivel! You know, most crimes are carried out by people you already know? Strangers, well, sure, there’s a chance they’re bad. But better chance they’re good, don’t you think? Must be, if you go off the statistics. And I know you young people love statistics. They’re like your shields against reality: that can’t possibly be true because look at these numbers. Well I say it’s drivel!” He doesn’t say a word. Sometimes I can be a little overwhelming. It’s harder to get my point across these days. Sometimes, impossible. ”Lighten up,” I say. “I’m not a stranger. Does that help? I’m you from the future.” I wave with the hand not on my cane. “So we know each other better than anyone. Get it?” ”We do?” ”Sure we do! Does Mom still make muffins that collect up teeth in the sponge — so damn hard they are?’ There’s another memory slotting back into place; like a swallow that’s returned to its place of birth for its final season. I see Mom trying to bake me treats but with money she doesn’t have, so she has to mix the good ingredients with stale and bad ingredients. Cement, for all I knew. Damn things were hard on the teeth. ”She doesn’t make muffins.” ”Well she ought to! But I guess she’s changed with the times. Too unhealthy for kids, these days. Although you look skinny enough to handle a bagful of them. Hush up anyway. I want to tell you something.” He swallows so loud that I can hear it. ”What?” Huh. What do I want to tell him? What did future me tell me when I was a kid? I’m trying to remember because I think it must have been life-changing, but it’s hard to excavate — my mind’s all covered in dust these days. Real deep, thick dust. Do I want to tell him to marry the girl he falls in love with? Because thirty years of bliss is still somehow better than the emptiness that follows her death? Or am I meant to warn him not to marry her so he doesn’t end up this cracked old shell of himself? Or was it not about that at all? Was it what ice cream is best at the Minkey’s parlour that… that doesn’t exist anymore. “I got to go,” he says. ”My father was a researcher. A scientist,” I say. I say it urgently, frantically. As if the words are pumping air into a body on a hospital bed. It’s a thought I haven’t thought in fifty years, but suddenly it seems vert important. More important than anything in the world. ”Cool? I guess.” ”He worked hard each and every day. But one day, a few days before his retirement, he came home with a pack of beers and sank into the couch.” The boy doesn’t say anything. ”My mom asked him what was wrong, because he never drank. Never. He said: ‘Today I realised something. I realised that the most important thing I do during my working day is smiling at my secretary and asking how she is. That’s the only thing I do that truly matters.’“ The boy’s still silent. I think I want to explain the point of the story but I’m not even sure why I said it. It changed Dad, I think. For the better. Maybe it’ll change me and the kid too. Maybe it’ll save us. ”There you are!” says my daughter. She’s in her fifties and thinks she’s my parent now. She takes my hand and apologises to the boy. “Are you okay?” she asks, as she leads me down the street. ”Stop fussing,” I say as I look over my shoulder. But the boy’s already gone. “That was the most important conversation of my life. Of his life.” She smiles and kisses me forehead. “I know, Pa. It is every time.” I don’t know what she means. But I do know it was a cold day a little earlier, and that I’m feeling slightly warmer now. It’s those memories, I think, that tumble back occasionally. They’re like sticks floating by on the surface of a deep stream; I reach in and grab hold of them, shake off the water and put a light to them. That way they keep me warm one last time before they’re gone for good.

Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts? How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me? It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could. “Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu. “Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me. “You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude? I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain. “Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.” “She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind. The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love. “Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself. “Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it. “Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time. Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it. “Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself? “Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.” No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

*So she was right after all.* *It's all cyclical.* I smiled in regret as I shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled toward him- the young boy sitting on the park bench, head buried in his Gameboy. I led with my cane and used it as a pivot to sit down next to him. My knees popped as they always did when I bent them, loud enough to draw the boy's attention away from his screen. His hair still had a lot of blonde in it- it would darken with age to a deep brown, and then he'd grow it out once he started skateboarding. "Hey, there," I croaked before coughing once to clear my throat. "Hey," he said in a disinterested tone. "What are you playing?" "Pokemon." His answers were short. I could tell by the screen he was fighting a gym leader, and decided to let him finish before continuing. "You won," I said with a smile. "I always win," he said apathetically before sipping on his caprisun. I looked around at the beauty of the park for a moment before pulling a bag from my pocket. My old hands trembled as I undid the ziploc and reached for the duckfeed within. "That's such an old man thing to do," he laughed. I smiled, "You'd be amazed the things you do when you truly miss someone..." He lowered his game and watched as I spread the feed. Ducks raced from the pond up the grassy knoll and over to the bench where they quickly wolfed down the feed. "You miss somebody?" He asked innocently. "Why don't you go see them?" "I think I'm about to," I said as I dug back into the bag and spread more feed. He turned his eyes back toward his game and muttered, "that's good." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye before adjusting my glasses, "Can I ask you something?" "Sure," he said quickly. "What do you feel... is important in life?" He shrugged his shoulders, "getting a job. Having a family." I chuckled lightly to myself, transitioning into a cough before tossing more duck feed, "No, that's the answer you think I want to hear." I saw him turn to me in my peripheral vision. "Tell me, what do *you* think is important in life?" He faced forward staring out at the pond for several seconds before saving his game and turning it off. He shoved the device into his pocket and sighed, "I want to travel the world. Far and wide." "I see," I responded. "You should do it." "I'm gonna," he said nonchalantly. "Soon as I make enough money." "It'll never be enough," I shot back. "You don't want to be an old man looking back on what could have been. Take the risk. You'll find your way." He sighed as though he were tired of listening to me. I understood. "When I was young," I began. "I never liked when strangers would just come up and talk to me for no reason. It's funny how as you get older... You'd do anything for someone just to listen..." "I don't think I'm gonna be old for a long time," he said in his monotone way as he watched the ducks. "It happens fast," I said just above a whisper. "It happens when you're not looking. When that Wednesday you don't remember disappears..." "Huh?" "Do me a favor, kid..." I turned and smiled at him, "hug your dad. Make sure he knows he's your hero." He cocked his head, "What?" I stood up and emptied the remaining contents of the bag before leaning forward on my cane. "Life isn't a cartoon. You're not the main character." "I know that!" He said in an insulted tone. "Your body has limits. Listen to them." He stayed quiet as I watched the water shimmer on the lake. I turned to see him but he was gone. When my eyes returned to the lake, there was a man in white standing in the middle. I dropped my cane to the ground and shuffled toward the water. The people standing behind him. I knew all of them. - - - r/a15MinuteMythos

It was early afternoon and I was walking home after a late lunch that Monday under the cool autumn sun, rubbing my potbelly with a wrinkled hand and a bittersweet sigh. The food had been expensive, but it was a day where I needed comfort food. Not just any comfort food… the ultimate comfort food that I only saved for special occasions. The steak cooked at Harbmore’s that had been my favorite for as long as I could remember, that I had eaten in celebration during every graduation and celebration throughout my life. It helped ease the severe melancholy I often felt nowadays into nostalgia as warm as the food in my belly. *Ah, if only I could go back and redo my life…* A strong breeze tugged at my hat, causing me to hold it against my head, and tore at my jacket. The trees swayed at the strength of the sudden gust. I opened my eyes. The sidewalk had been crowded, but now nobody was around. Nobody except for a child standing across from me a little way down the sidewalk. I looked at the little boy and he looked back at me. Even from the hundred meters or so that separated us, his features were striking to me. His dark hair, his nose, his facial structure, that school uniform… *That face… he looks uncannily like me. It’s so similar it’s actually scary*, I thought. At first, I thought I was hallucinating visions of my past into reality. However, I closed my eyes and opened them to confirm multiple times. But still, it couldn’t be me… Then I remembered and an icy shiver ran down my spine. When I was 7 years old, I met a creepy old guy as I was walking on this street. For some reason, that meeting had given me such a weird feeling that I hadn’t forgotten it since. *That old guy all those decades ago was me after all…* I thought. For some reason, I chuckled. Then I burst out laughing, with almost hysterical intensity. *I never knew I was this crazy. That my fantasies could break reality like this…* *Hah, take that, world! You think I’m a useless geezer that's about to die, but I’m still kicking!* The kid’s eyes widened. I quickly stopped laughing. *Wait! This means I have the opportunity to talk to myself seventy years ago. There’s so much I want to tell myself, so much I can fix! How do I even start…* I walked forward, opening my mouth and revealing my missing teeth. The kid’s face crumpled in fear, like he was about to cry, and stepped backward. “Wait…” I said, “Don’t go.” I uselessly reached out an arm after him. Maybe it was the sheer desperation in my voice, but the kid froze. I stepped towards him, ever so slowly, ever so gently, buying time as my mind raced. *What can I say… what can I say… He’s just a kid. What can I tell him that he’ll remember? If he forgets, then there’s no use. It has to be one thing then…* What is the one thing I want to change the most in my life? *I could tell him how to get rich with stocks or something… but how do I tell that to a kid? I could give him general advice so I don’t have so many regrets… or maybe to eat more while he’s young so he gets a little taller? Wait, no, why would I waste this on something like that…* I stopped in front of the kid and looked at his face. His skin was so smooth, his face and arms were still chubby. He was so precious and small, like a kitten. My mind blanked out. I couldn’t think of anything to say. He melted my heart. I wanted to protect him. I didn’t want to see his face crinkle in fear or confusion as he looked fearfully at me, an old decrepit man with a potbelly and rotting teeth who was basically at death’s door. I smiled at him warmly. “You know what. Don’t change anything,” I said, “Just remember this. Whatever you do… know that I’m proud of you.” My throat constricted for some reason as I said the words. The boy met my eyes for a heartbeat, sensing the genuine emotion within them… Then he ran past me and away down the street without saying a word. The strong wind blew again. I had to hold my arm to protect my eyes. After the wind died down, I looked behind me and the kid was gone. ___ r/WanderWilder for more stories!

[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you.

*So she was right after all.* *It's all cyclical.* I smiled in regret as I shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled toward him- the young boy sitting on the park bench, head buried in his Gameboy. I led with my cane and used it as a pivot to sit down next to him. My knees popped as they always did when I bent them, loud enough to draw the boy's attention away from his screen. His hair still had a lot of blonde in it- it would darken with age to a deep brown, and then he'd grow it out once he started skateboarding. "Hey, there," I croaked before coughing once to clear my throat. "Hey," he said in a disinterested tone. "What are you playing?" "Pokemon." His answers were short. I could tell by the screen he was fighting a gym leader, and decided to let him finish before continuing. "You won," I said with a smile. "I always win," he said apathetically before sipping on his caprisun. I looked around at the beauty of the park for a moment before pulling a bag from my pocket. My old hands trembled as I undid the ziploc and reached for the duckfeed within. "That's such an old man thing to do," he laughed. I smiled, "You'd be amazed the things you do when you truly miss someone..." He lowered his game and watched as I spread the feed. Ducks raced from the pond up the grassy knoll and over to the bench where they quickly wolfed down the feed. "You miss somebody?" He asked innocently. "Why don't you go see them?" "I think I'm about to," I said as I dug back into the bag and spread more feed. He turned his eyes back toward his game and muttered, "that's good." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye before adjusting my glasses, "Can I ask you something?" "Sure," he said quickly. "What do you feel... is important in life?" He shrugged his shoulders, "getting a job. Having a family." I chuckled lightly to myself, transitioning into a cough before tossing more duck feed, "No, that's the answer you think I want to hear." I saw him turn to me in my peripheral vision. "Tell me, what do *you* think is important in life?" He faced forward staring out at the pond for several seconds before saving his game and turning it off. He shoved the device into his pocket and sighed, "I want to travel the world. Far and wide." "I see," I responded. "You should do it." "I'm gonna," he said nonchalantly. "Soon as I make enough money." "It'll never be enough," I shot back. "You don't want to be an old man looking back on what could have been. Take the risk. You'll find your way." He sighed as though he were tired of listening to me. I understood. "When I was young," I began. "I never liked when strangers would just come up and talk to me for no reason. It's funny how as you get older... You'd do anything for someone just to listen..." "I don't think I'm gonna be old for a long time," he said in his monotone way as he watched the ducks. "It happens fast," I said just above a whisper. "It happens when you're not looking. When that Wednesday you don't remember disappears..." "Huh?" "Do me a favor, kid..." I turned and smiled at him, "hug your dad. Make sure he knows he's your hero." He cocked his head, "What?" I stood up and emptied the remaining contents of the bag before leaning forward on my cane. "Life isn't a cartoon. You're not the main character." "I know that!" He said in an insulted tone. "Your body has limits. Listen to them." He stayed quiet as I watched the water shimmer on the lake. I turned to see him but he was gone. When my eyes returned to the lake, there was a man in white standing in the middle. I dropped my cane to the ground and shuffled toward the water. The people standing behind him. I knew all of them. - - - r/a15MinuteMythos

There I was. Astonishingly small. Looking up at everything with polite curiousity as I made my way down the square. I almost gasped at the sight of my younger self. I rose to my feet, the rags that barely covered my modesty shook, threatening to crumble away as I swatted the flies away and tried to make myself look somewhat less decrepit, less unapproachable. I vaguely recalled it. It felt like a deja vu of a deja vu. All those years ago and in this square. The old man that was just me in the decades to come. What had I said? What had I said? Am I doomed to repeat what I said to myself again? No! What I had said had not made sense. I would have remembered! No. I had to be clear, and use my words in a way a 7 year old child would understand. I cursed my unkempt beard and matted hair. How could I get through to myself without appearing mad? Was I mad? The child looked nothing like me, I realized. Was it even me? Why would there be a younger version of me walking around? No. It was me. It had to be. I remembered an old man talking to me in this very square, hadn't I? Had I? Stop it. "Kheng Ian," I called. But my voice had not seen use in days. It came out hoarse and raspy and soft. I cleared my throat, spitting up a thick globule of phlegm. "Kheng Ian!" I shouted desperately, hoping he'd turn to look. He did. Joy rose within me as the boy tried to find the source of the sound, and when his eyes met mine he frowned. I nodded at him, beckoning him. My plan to look approachable all but forgotten as I stared wide-eyed at myself from the past. From the past? Then how was I here? No matter. Maybe he had the explanations. What was I thinking? He was a child. I was a child. As the young self made his way cautiously towards this dirt-stained, ghastly begger apparition, I tried to form the thoughts that would become the words that I had to relay to him. What is it? I had to tell him something! Why could I not remember? Why could I not remember anything? He stopped a little ways away, turning his nose. I probably smelled. "I am you!" I said, nodding vigorously. He squinted at me. "I am what you'll become! You need to stop it!" I said, smiling. Yes. This was how. If I could advise him against the decisions that led to this. What were those decisions again? Why was it so hard to remember? "I am what you'll become." The younger version repeated what I said back to me. I faltered. What? "What?" I balked. "In 700 years the cycle will begin anew." "What?" "Memory is a fickle thing. We are cursed with the life of a phoenix." I stared at the boy, who smiled a little sadly as he dug around in his pocket, before flipping a coin towards me. I caught it, barely. "Remember yourself." The boy advised before moving on. I stared as he walked away, his small figure getting smaller and smaller before he disappeared around a corner, not once looking back. I looked at the coin he had thrown at me. It was a heavy coin, thick with simple detailing and design. But not of any currency I recognized. ***777***, it read on one side, and on the other side there was a crest of a bird, talons and wings outstretched, breathing flames that curled around the circumference of the coin face. No. Not a bird. A phoenix. And then I remembered.

[removed]

[WP] "Eat The Rich" is not just a saying anymore. The richer they are, the stronger their scent and the better the taste.

I never thought in my life that I'd become a cannibal. I guess I am one now. Evolution forced me to become one. It's been so long since I've changed that I forgot what is was like to be a weak, little Human. My fangs and claws distinguish me as a superior Predator. I am one of the first of my kind, the next step in evolution. Now, I wander the land in search of my prey. To devour and consume them brings me great pleasure. Did you know that everyone tastes a little different? I didn't know at first. Everyone tasted the same for the first few months. Eventually, I began to notice slight differences in taste based on certain factors. Gender, age, race, and even social class seem to have an affect on the taste of flesh. Right now, my favorite flavor of people is the rich. The first rich person I ever ate was some old snob in New England. I think he was some kind of fancy international business man. He was still living in his oceanside mansion with his family. They somehow survived the Nuclear War. Lucky them. I happened to be wandering in that area at the time and I was hungry. I broke into the mansion. Killed them all. They begged me to stop, but I was just so hungry that I could only see them as cattle, a source of food. After digging in, I absolutely fell in love with the taste. It must have been all those fine wines he drank and all those exotic cheeses he ate. They somehow seasoned his flesh and blood. He tasted better than any steak I had ever had before. His wife and his adult son were delicious too. The butler tasted okay, but I could tell he smoked a lot of cigarettes, which kind of ruined the flavor. This is why I love to hunt in former "rich" communities. Whenever I catch somebody that was wealthy, they always seem to have a beautiful and savory flavor. Who could have thought that affluence equals divine deliciousness? I just can't get enough of it. I'm addicted. I remember one time, I was wandering down an old alley in a ruined city. There was graffiti on the wall, spray painted by some rebellious youth many years ago. It said "EAT THE RICH" in big, red letters. I chuckled to myself and shouted "Hell yeah! That's the right idea!" I think for my next big adventure, I might head west to California. I have a feeling that the best meal of my life would be a famous celebrity or a big movie producer. I can't wait! Watch out Hollywood, here I come.

I slink through the sewer, feeling like more of a disgusting monster than I actually am. I am starving. For anyone that knows me, they know I like the finer things in life. Trouble is, I lost my job at the warehouse for taking too long on a piss break. I was getting underpaid as is; an 'error' in the contract by a higher up, officially. I am starving. I haven't eaten in weeks. Most people have decided to just eat other normal people by now. It only took a few weeks for commoners to turn on each other after they turned the chips on. It's *almost* impossible to resist the temptation. I have so far. I wasn't going to give in to my urges without going the whole hog. As I say, I do enjoy the finer things in life. And I was going to eat the man who denied me them. I am starving. I keep telling myself that I am not, but I am. The internal conflict broils within me, even as I stand below the grate that will take me to my meal. He knows that people are braying for his flesh. He can feel the vibrations of the masses outside his compound, no doubt. I bet he's hungry too; nobody on this planet is rich enough for him to eat. Fuck it. He'd eat me, given the opportunity. I push the grate open and clamber into the alleyway. I know where he's hiding. All his guards have eaten all his supervisors, and all his supervisors have eaten each other. It was on the news. With any luck, there was an even number of staff. If not, there would only be one to contend with. He doesn't trust anyone. He'll be locked away in his bunker. His giant, cylindrical bunker, with his little protection pod, right on the tip. I know how I will get in. Hopefully, the hunger has him hallucinating by now--my mask is crude, but I did not have the resources for better. I walk through the compound, amazed that no one else has thought of the sewers yet. Silence. The braying of the crowd beyond the mile-high walls. The crunching and slurping as the slowly devour each other. They don't have the patience to wait for the main course. Amazed that I have made it this far. I am starving. I already have the mask on. A silicone masterpiece. I place a finger on the intercom button and press it slowly. Long press. Wake him up. The most delicious smell seeps under the bottom of the thick metal door. I am so close to a succulent meal. I am starving. The camera whizzes round and focuses on my rubbery, stretched face. "Ergh..argh..." He was close to death. He was not acclimated to going without. "Jeff? It's Elon. Which one of us is worth more today?" The connection snaps shut. Silence. Then, eventually, a small click. The metal door begins to slide open. I knew he'd fall for it. I was going to enjoy this. The most delicious meal on this planet, all to myself.

[WP] You've been isekai'd after death by truck! Due to some confusion, you reawaken in your own human body with strange abilities, namely truck-like speed, truck-like strength, even a backup camera.... Wait. Does this world's system think you're a TRUCK?!

**I just want an easy life but I may be a truck, my adventures in a magic world!** My name is Daisuke Ito. I was a second year high school student walking home and reading the newest issue of shonen jump and "Waaaaaaaaaah" I yelled as I flung my arms up, closed my eyes and tensed my body. The image of a truck barreling down the sidewalk towards me flashed through my mind. After a second or two nothing happened and I opened my eyes and peaked though my fingers. "Whaaaa" I mumbled as my arms fell to my side and my mouth dropped open. There was no truck anymore or sidewalk or town even. I was in a glade in what seems like a lightly forested area. Panicked I racked my brain trying to figure out what was going on when it hit me. I had been isekai'd! Being an otaku it all made sense to me, the truck, the glade, it was exactly like I had read about in manga. "Kekekekekeke!" I laughed and shouted in joy. This was the best thing that could have happened to me. It was a dream come true. I had no friends, my parents were always on business trips and I was all alone. Now I could start a new life, with OP abilities. I couldn't wait to see what skills I had. "Menu!" I said. Normally in isekai this would bring up my character sheet and I could see all the cool skills I have. "Menu!" I said again but nothing happened. Eh, I thought. Maybe I have to activate my skills first or something. I looked around for monsters but only saw a couple cute squirrel type creatures hopping around. So I walked up to a tree at the edge of the glen. "Omae wa mou shinderu!" I said and punched at the tree as hard as I could. Two things happened: First, I mostly missed the tree and and grazed it while scraping my knuckles. Second, I learned I don't have super strength and punching trees hurts. After I rubbed my hand a bit I decided to see if I have magic powers. So I backed away from the tree a little and assumed my best dragon ball z kamehameha form. I tried to picture magic and energy gathering in me as I channeled my ultimate power. "Kaaaameeeehaaaameeeeehaaaaaa" I yelled and let rip what was hopefully my super badass magic powers. "HONK" A incredibly loud air horn noise blasted from my body as I just stood still in disbelief. A ping noise and the words \* Skill: Air Horn activated\* popped into view in front of me. No way what the fuuu, I started to think before my thoughts were interrupted by a low growling behind me. All the previously cute squirrel creatures were now growling and slowly crawling towards me. "Stay back!" I yelled and thrust my arms out. "HONK" "Reeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!" the squirrel creatures snarled as their eyes turned red and they charged. Shrieking I spun around and started running through the forest. "Oh, god, Oh, god Oh god" I repeated to myself as I tried to flee. "What type of isekai is this? This doesn't happen in manga. What the hell type of ability is air horn? All it did was make all the cute animals want to kill me." my thoughts raced as I dodged between trees. Peeking behind me I saw the murder squirrels were gaining on me. Willing my legs to run faster I heard a ping again then \*Skill: Second Gear activated\* flashed infront of me. Suddenly I started picking up speed. "Haha, get bent squirrels!" I said as I looked behind me and saw I was pulling ahead. Turning forward I bent my head down and saw I was maybe 6 feet away from a giant web with the biggest spider looking thing I had ever seen on it. "Nooooo!" was the only thing I could get out before I ran face first into the web and the giant spider. As I touched the web and spider both exploded on me with most of the spider stuck to my chest and the rest on my face and eyes. Another ping and this time a melodic voice announced "DANGEROUS CARGO ACQUIRED". I didn't have time to think what that meant while I ran flailing my arms like a inflatable tube man trying to clear the goo from my eyes. Wiping enough to see clearly the forest line shows itself ending and dropping off into a chasm but I am going to fast to stop. With nothing to lose I jump at the very edge. Oooooooooooooooooooo!! I soar across and land on the other side ungracefully with a thud and bang. Looking across the chasm I see the murder squirrels on the other side looking very upset and most likely saying very rude things. The dead spider thing decided to fall off my chest as I lay on ground and as it did I heard a ping with the melodic voice saying " DANGEROUS CARGO DELIVERED". What the hell is that voice talking about, I think when another ping goes off and abunch of messages pop into view. \*EXP Gained\* \*Level Up\* \*Menu Unlocked\* General Information Name: Daisuke Ito Race: Humanoid Truck Class: Cargo Truck Level: 1 HP: 350/350 Gas: 500/500 Strength: 10 Stamina: 1300 Agility: 300 Magic: 10 Dexterity: 300 Luck: 70 Unique Skills Long Haul : Gain exp for picking up and dropping off cargo. Dangerous cargo gives bonus exp. Vroom: Damage dealt increases based on speed. Skills Second Gear Air Horn ​ I am a truck? A humanoid truck? I somehow feel like I got ripped off. Why can't I just be a transformer. This is no fair. I am not even going to do isekai things now I will just do a easy life. I hope they don't have a demon lord.

The streets here have been paved by horse drawn carriages going back and forth for centuries. I try to avoid coming out here on rainy days. Even a little drizzle is enough to turn the packed ground into a mud pit. Still, something inside me compels me to walk them everyday rain or shine. It helps that I got a job in the docks transporting goods. Back and forth carrying merch isn't a big deal for me. It seems like my new body is programed for this. Can't imagine why, maybe it used to do this kind of thing before I got it? I shock the thoughts out. No day dreaming. My past life as a normal teen ended the minute that truck hit me. New world, new body and a new me. Focus on the here and now. I can't afford to let my mind dr----- "EEEEEEEKKKK! He killed him! he ran full speed at that kid and killed him! HELP HELP!" Oh no.... it happened again. All that blood, that dramatic pose. He was definitely isekai'd. Damn this truck-kun ability of mine!

[WP] In desperation you take the only job willing to hire you. You quickly learn however that this run down establishment is not at all what it seems. As your boss tells you to hold out your hands. They wave a wand and a new uniform appears in your hands as if from thin air.

"Well kid, congrats you got the job!" Mr. Falseid said giving me a pat on the back before leading me back to the front of the run down store. "Wait, really? That is fantastic!" I exclaimed, happpy to finally have landed a new job after I quit the last one, plus I might actually be able to make rent this time, if the discussed payment is actually what I'll be getting. "Sure is kiddo, not everyday ol' Pan gets to hire a new face. Say, would you be able to start right now?" "I can do that, yeah. Though I gotta ask, I know it's my first day and all, but can I get a bit of an advance payment, you see I am a tad behind on rent and they'll thro..." "That isn't a problem in the slightest." my boss interrupted, "How do you want to be payed, Gold, Drachme, Blood,..." "Dollars...?" I asked, hoping that he was just messing with me and won't actually pay me in blood. "Sure, a comparativly boring choice but I'll manage." he said before pulling a wad of bills out of one of his suits pockets, which I am pretty sure wiould have never fit in said pocket, especially because it looked empty before and handed me a few bills. "Oh and here is your uniform the changing room is down there, second door on the right." and with a wave of his hand a seemingly brand new uniform landed in my hands. Too stunned to say anything I made my way to the locker room. Getting inside, I was relived to see that everything looked normal, apart from another door leading somewhere else and an imposing suit of plate armor with a huge sword standing next to it. I changed outfts when a scratching sound from the other door caught my attention, I tried to ignore it but my curiosity got the better of me, slowly I crept towards it, keeping an eye on the imposing suit of armor. I placed my hand on the door handle but before I could press it down a voice from my left made me halt: "I would refrain from doing that if I were you." I looked up and saw the suits helmet looking down directly at me "Wh..w...Why?" I answered. "Ghoul infestation." the suit replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "I'll be going then." I answered before quickly finishing up and heading for the way back to the front of the store. "Have a great day at work!" I heard the suit reply before I shut the door. When I got back to the front I saw Mr. Falseid talking to someone else, though the other person was obscured by him. "Ah, you're back. And i'm glad to see that the uniform fits. This here is Clarisse by the way, one of your co-workers." he stepped aside revealing a female figuree dressed in jeans, a brown leather jacket and a company t-shirt, a pretty normal outfit all things considered. What wasn't normal was that where a normal human head should sit was instead occupied by a black furred wolf head, "Hey." the she-wolf greeted me. My confusion and complete disbelief must have been visible from a mile away and it took me several moments before I could articulate a response: "H..Hi...", was all that I muttered. "Hmmm, you're handling it better than most, usually people run away screaming when they hear they'll be working together with a werewolf. But I am sure we'll get along splendidly." She said giving me a smile that revealed two rows of sharp fangs, before heading into the back of the store. "Mr. Falseid, where can I find..." I started, but stopped as I turned around and instead of the buisinessman dressen in a black velvet suit there stood a half-naked satyr, reading through some pages of paper. "Kid, since you'll be working here with us you can call me Pan." He said, looking up from his sheets before shooting me a smile. "Alright... where can I find the restroom?" "Through the locker room and down the stairs on the other side of it, then its the seventh door on the left, or was it the eight? I always get it and the Chimera pen confused." "You mean the Ghoul infested stairs?" "Ah right, I knew I forgot something. But there should be some spare weapons and armor your size flying around here somewhere,let me get it for you." and with that he too headed off towards the back. This is gonna be one hell of job...

Mr.Alanzo bit the end of his pen and stared me down from across his desk. He was a bold looking man, with gray, slicked back hair and a pin-striped suit. I dared not interrupt what seemed a ritualistic appraisal. But Mr.Alanzo could see with more than eyes. “Yes,” he said finally, “you will do nicely.” “Do what exactly, Sir?” I asked. I was only sixteen, being alone with this strange man made me nervous. The office seemed decent enough, but liminal. “Why,” said Mr.Alanzo, “you will be my personal assistant. You did read the ad, didn’t you?” He flicked his wrist and a piece of paper appeared in his hand. He fixed his glasses. “Neat trick,” I said. “I’ve only seen someone do that with playing cards.” The boss smiled and began to read. “Personal assistant needed. Two dollars an hour. Please have charisma and a magical personality.” “It was an odd ad,” I said. “But you were the only one on Gregslist that answered.” “You start today,” said Mr. Alanzo. He ordered me to hold out my hands and with the flick of his pen, a uniform appeared in my hands. I was startled, and then shocked. Was I dreaming? “Wh-How did you…What?!” “Speak plainly.” “How did you do that?” “Magic, course. You have magic in this world, don’t you?” “Not…really.” “Oh, well thats awkward.” “You’re not gonna have to wipe my brain with a forget-me spell are you?” “No no,” said Mr. Alanzo, “it’s worse than that. I’m going to have to train you for the position.” “Train me? I’m not following sir. What exactly do I need to do? I thought I was just a coffee fetcher.” “Heavens no! Why? Do you know a good place to grab a cup of joe?” “Yeah, Claddah coffee shop,” I said, “it’s down seventh. But what do I need to learn?” “Magic,” said Mr. Alanzo. “I need to teach you magic.” Lmk if you want more :)

[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation.

"And whether my washing machine truly can or cannot create a tie-dye shirt, I am yet to find." I listen to the story of my friend Brandon, but my mind is spinning like said washing machine. I remembered saying this, in one of my past lives. In fact, I think it was the one only 4 or 5 lives before this one! I remember doing that experiment! I ended up breaking the washing machine. As I cast my mind back to the possibility that he was one of my past lives, I realized there were so many dots I had failed to connect. His name. His appearance. I never think about my past lives anymore. I have near-perfect memory, but I can't remember when I stopped thinking about my past lives. When I'd stopped being curious. When was it that I had simply accepted that I would live in an endless cycle like this? And Brandon was part of the cycle. He was me. Who else? Had I interacted with any other of my own reincarnations? "...Are you okay, Mark? You've stopped responding to me..." My parents. Amelia and Skyler. I strained my memory a bit, but I remembered being them too. I remember their first date, from... from both of their perspectives. I remembered my own joy at having a baby, the baby also being me, and then again me, pacing outside worriedly as I was birthing the baby. What? Brandon and I were sitting in a cafe. I looked towards the barista. How many lives have I lived as a young, brown-skinned girl, serving a cafe? With long and silky golden-brown hair and - wait, I can just go see her name. My chair screeched as I pushed it back, and I saw the girl flinch slightly. She doesn't like these noises. Well, to be fair, no one does, but was she a bit hyper-sensitive to it? "Mark. Mark. Mark. What are you doing? What are you thinking about? You're zoning out, man. Answer me." Walking forward just a little bit to the register, I managed to read her name, Maybelle. Just the thought of that name, plus this cafe and this job, plus the screeching of chairs... yeah, that one time I'd been in a car accident where my dad died. The screeching of the tires, the body of my only parent growing colder and colder, and his eyes slowly fogging up... The cracked glass, the yelling, my mind was filled with a fog that blocked out everything but my dad, and- "MARK!" Brandon was shaking me. Oh, sorry Brandon. I'd been ignoring him for the past, what, ten minutes? "Thank you, Brandon, thank you so much." In that life, I'd gotten PTSD from the incident. Luckily it hadn't carried over to any other lives. I didn't like thinking about it though, and now I'd fallen down the hole again. "Say, Brandon... would you happen to be reincarnated?"

The thought came to me In the shower I look out the window Each person living Their own little Life And I just can’t help But imagine what Their day is like What’s for lunch And what’s up later tonight I think about my neighbors (They’ve been fighting a lot) Overhearing became eavesdropping She says she feels alone He says he tries his best And then it dawned on me I’ve been in her position before And I regret not having Done more I’ve been in his position before And I regret insisting on Sure mistakes I see her in the mirror Alone in the bathroom Wiping off the ruined makeup I see him in a black screen Alone in his office After one more day of whatever I can really picture my mom When she was a kid My quiet friend’s is struggling And no one has asked him that But I also have this weird feeling Paranoia, even That someone will raid my… farm… tonight… And - at the same time - I would give my life to The revolution. I pour the last round after The game (the Mets lost) Last call And I held his hands for the last Time (we had hopes) Wrong call I feel an adrenaline rush An instinct to hide I hear them outside I look down and see my hands slapping a podium I am proud of our government I scratch her back And He knows just where it itches I hate towels when they Are still kinda wet I take my meds from the sink “Stabilizers,” they call them I look up It’s still me in the mirror But it just feels unsettling As if I were seeing Someone else For the first time

[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation.

This is my first comment ever, and my first attempt at a writing prompt. Ahh... ___ There's no one else. There never has been and never will be. The enormity of it pushed at the inside of my skull, not for the first time. I sank to the ground. Ahead of me the nebula of the Source pulsed lazily. It was a warm, glowing white abyss, hypnotising me with it's unspoken invitation. It knew what I sought; what I dedicated so many of my lives to. "Well, f*ck, what else is there to do?" I laughed out loud and took a deep breath. I slapped the floor, got up and walked to the stern, keeping my head down. All the calcs, maps, plans and stories pasted to the walls... Nearly 7 million years of searching all led to this, and it had to be in my final iteration. I took another deep breath and unloaded the ISAP carrier pod. I didn't bother to notify anyone. They'd all figure it out anyway. "Cera, shut down all non-essential and essential systems," I said while strapping into the carrier and disabling the airlock. "Are you sure, Professor? Please confirm your request." I sighed and repeated the command. "Essential systems will disengage in 5 minutes. Should I send a log to the SERV base?" Cera's voice was flatter. I steered the carrier around to the bow of the ship and floated past. My heart pounded. I stared ahead, transfixed. I loved and grieved my lives more than I ever have in that instant; my human existences, my borg existences, my boti extstences, and all the countless others. I thought about my first iteration. That state of blissful unknowing was such a contrast to my current mind filled with tales of love and fear and suicide and ecstasy, psychosis and clarity and burden and joy, torture and peace and everything there ever was. To have accumulated and carried it all was the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me. The warmth of the Source gently caressed my prickling skin as I sailed closer. I knew the distance wasn't real. I knew my skin wasn't real either. This dimension didn't work like that, but I wanted to feel completely human in these last moments of facing a finality I knew I wasn't coming back from. I wanted to feel human when I fulfilled this higher purpose I'd given myself - and so this dimension worked like that. "Professor?" Cera's voice jolted me out of my bittersweet hypnosis. I exhaled. "Send a log, don't bother with details," I said. "Comfirmed. Log sent." I disabled Cera's connection to the carrier. The main ship still had 3 minutes until shutdown. My previous iteration was stationed at SERV's base, waiting for my report. Now I understood why the log was so vague. I would have talked myself out of this trip if I knew then, and one of my other selves would have planned sabotage, but now that I was here I couldn't let that happen. 2 minutes. I was ready. Time was now my construct. I didn't need to wait. I closed my eyes. Another deep breath. I opened my eyes. The carrier was gone. There was no ship. I floated, naked, before the vast and undulating whorls of my maker. I drank in the sight and let all my human senses come alive. I laughed deriliously as tears flooded my eyes and streamed little, glistening orbs into space. The sensations were overwhelming. I surrended. _____ Suddenly, I became engulfed by relief and confusion, suffocating in a blanket of perfection without a need to breathe. Without form, I diffused and shifted into everything and nothing over and over, observing and experiencing this strange newness with curiosity. A consciousness presented itself. It had answers. It wanted me to ask a question. I struggled. I felt like an infant; naive and wobbly, trying to make sense of things under the gaze of the ultimate wise elder. A memory dawned. I had lived before, many times. So many times. The question creeped into focus. Tentatively, I sent it out. ...? The consciousness had no form or face, but at the presence of the question, I was pretty sure it smiled.

The thought came to me In the shower I look out the window Each person living Their own little Life And I just can’t help But imagine what Their day is like What’s for lunch And what’s up later tonight I think about my neighbors (They’ve been fighting a lot) Overhearing became eavesdropping She says she feels alone He says he tries his best And then it dawned on me I’ve been in her position before And I regret not having Done more I’ve been in his position before And I regret insisting on Sure mistakes I see her in the mirror Alone in the bathroom Wiping off the ruined makeup I see him in a black screen Alone in his office After one more day of whatever I can really picture my mom When she was a kid My quiet friend’s is struggling And no one has asked him that But I also have this weird feeling Paranoia, even That someone will raid my… farm… tonight… And - at the same time - I would give my life to The revolution. I pour the last round after The game (the Mets lost) Last call And I held his hands for the last Time (we had hopes) Wrong call I feel an adrenaline rush An instinct to hide I hear them outside I look down and see my hands slapping a podium I am proud of our government I scratch her back And He knows just where it itches I hate towels when they Are still kinda wet I take my meds from the sink “Stabilizers,” they call them I look up It’s still me in the mirror But it just feels unsettling As if I were seeing Someone else For the first time

[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation.

This is my first comment ever, and my first attempt at a writing prompt. Ahh... ___ There's no one else. There never has been and never will be. The enormity of it pushed at the inside of my skull, not for the first time. I sank to the ground. Ahead of me the nebula of the Source pulsed lazily. It was a warm, glowing white abyss, hypnotising me with it's unspoken invitation. It knew what I sought; what I dedicated so many of my lives to. "Well, f*ck, what else is there to do?" I laughed out loud and took a deep breath. I slapped the floor, got up and walked to the stern, keeping my head down. All the calcs, maps, plans and stories pasted to the walls... Nearly 7 million years of searching all led to this, and it had to be in my final iteration. I took another deep breath and unloaded the ISAP carrier pod. I didn't bother to notify anyone. They'd all figure it out anyway. "Cera, shut down all non-essential and essential systems," I said while strapping into the carrier and disabling the airlock. "Are you sure, Professor? Please confirm your request." I sighed and repeated the command. "Essential systems will disengage in 5 minutes. Should I send a log to the SERV base?" Cera's voice was flatter. I steered the carrier around to the bow of the ship and floated past. My heart pounded. I stared ahead, transfixed. I loved and grieved my lives more than I ever have in that instant; my human existences, my borg existences, my boti extstences, and all the countless others. I thought about my first iteration. That state of blissful unknowing was such a contrast to my current mind filled with tales of love and fear and suicide and ecstasy, psychosis and clarity and burden and joy, torture and peace and everything there ever was. To have accumulated and carried it all was the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me. The warmth of the Source gently caressed my prickling skin as I sailed closer. I knew the distance wasn't real. I knew my skin wasn't real either. This dimension didn't work like that, but I wanted to feel completely human in these last moments of facing a finality I knew I wasn't coming back from. I wanted to feel human when I fulfilled this higher purpose I'd given myself - and so this dimension worked like that. "Professor?" Cera's voice jolted me out of my bittersweet hypnosis. I exhaled. "Send a log, don't bother with details," I said. "Comfirmed. Log sent." I disabled Cera's connection to the carrier. The main ship still had 3 minutes until shutdown. My previous iteration was stationed at SERV's base, waiting for my report. Now I understood why the log was so vague. I would have talked myself out of this trip if I knew then, and one of my other selves would have planned sabotage, but now that I was here I couldn't let that happen. 2 minutes. I was ready. Time was now my construct. I didn't need to wait. I closed my eyes. Another deep breath. I opened my eyes. The carrier was gone. There was no ship. I floated, naked, before the vast and undulating whorls of my maker. I drank in the sight and let all my human senses come alive. I laughed deriliously as tears flooded my eyes and streamed little, glistening orbs into space. The sensations were overwhelming. I surrended. _____ Suddenly, I became engulfed by relief and confusion, suffocating in a blanket of perfection without a need to breathe. Without form, I diffused and shifted into everything and nothing over and over, observing and experiencing this strange newness with curiosity. A consciousness presented itself. It had answers. It wanted me to ask a question. I struggled. I felt like an infant; naive and wobbly, trying to make sense of things under the gaze of the ultimate wise elder. A memory dawned. I had lived before, many times. So many times. The question creeped into focus. Tentatively, I sent it out. ...? The consciousness had no form or face, but at the presence of the question, I was pretty sure it smiled.

Well goddamnit. I'd *really* not wanted to figure this out. "So, we've..." "YES." I groaned and fell back onto the bed. "And that means that *everyone* has..." "Yes you SoB, shut up and let me forget it." I flail at my friend for a soft slap. "Well, at least we know eachother well enough. It was WEIRD being a woman for the first time." I looked up, and raised an eyebrow. "Remember being Einstein?" Allison shuddered. "God yes. Fuck, being smart is HARD dude!" "When do we become Hitler again?" "Uhhh... What, like four million or so in I think." I curse and flop back into the sheets. "Christ this breaks causality in SO MANY ways..." "Tell me about it, I REMEMBER this conversation!" I wince in sympathy. Talking to other people would be utter pain from hereon out. At least, if they came before me.

[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation.

This is my first comment ever, and my first attempt at a writing prompt. Ahh... ___ There's no one else. There never has been and never will be. The enormity of it pushed at the inside of my skull, not for the first time. I sank to the ground. Ahead of me the nebula of the Source pulsed lazily. It was a warm, glowing white abyss, hypnotising me with it's unspoken invitation. It knew what I sought; what I dedicated so many of my lives to. "Well, f*ck, what else is there to do?" I laughed out loud and took a deep breath. I slapped the floor, got up and walked to the stern, keeping my head down. All the calcs, maps, plans and stories pasted to the walls... Nearly 7 million years of searching all led to this, and it had to be in my final iteration. I took another deep breath and unloaded the ISAP carrier pod. I didn't bother to notify anyone. They'd all figure it out anyway. "Cera, shut down all non-essential and essential systems," I said while strapping into the carrier and disabling the airlock. "Are you sure, Professor? Please confirm your request." I sighed and repeated the command. "Essential systems will disengage in 5 minutes. Should I send a log to the SERV base?" Cera's voice was flatter. I steered the carrier around to the bow of the ship and floated past. My heart pounded. I stared ahead, transfixed. I loved and grieved my lives more than I ever have in that instant; my human existences, my borg existences, my boti extstences, and all the countless others. I thought about my first iteration. That state of blissful unknowing was such a contrast to my current mind filled with tales of love and fear and suicide and ecstasy, psychosis and clarity and burden and joy, torture and peace and everything there ever was. To have accumulated and carried it all was the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me. The warmth of the Source gently caressed my prickling skin as I sailed closer. I knew the distance wasn't real. I knew my skin wasn't real either. This dimension didn't work like that, but I wanted to feel completely human in these last moments of facing a finality I knew I wasn't coming back from. I wanted to feel human when I fulfilled this higher purpose I'd given myself - and so this dimension worked like that. "Professor?" Cera's voice jolted me out of my bittersweet hypnosis. I exhaled. "Send a log, don't bother with details," I said. "Comfirmed. Log sent." I disabled Cera's connection to the carrier. The main ship still had 3 minutes until shutdown. My previous iteration was stationed at SERV's base, waiting for my report. Now I understood why the log was so vague. I would have talked myself out of this trip if I knew then, and one of my other selves would have planned sabotage, but now that I was here I couldn't let that happen. 2 minutes. I was ready. Time was now my construct. I didn't need to wait. I closed my eyes. Another deep breath. I opened my eyes. The carrier was gone. There was no ship. I floated, naked, before the vast and undulating whorls of my maker. I drank in the sight and let all my human senses come alive. I laughed deriliously as tears flooded my eyes and streamed little, glistening orbs into space. The sensations were overwhelming. I surrended. _____ Suddenly, I became engulfed by relief and confusion, suffocating in a blanket of perfection without a need to breathe. Without form, I diffused and shifted into everything and nothing over and over, observing and experiencing this strange newness with curiosity. A consciousness presented itself. It had answers. It wanted me to ask a question. I struggled. I felt like an infant; naive and wobbly, trying to make sense of things under the gaze of the ultimate wise elder. A memory dawned. I had lived before, many times. So many times. The question creeped into focus. Tentatively, I sent it out. ...? The consciousness had no form or face, but at the presence of the question, I was pretty sure it smiled.

"Maybe I should change this book's name as "My Story" instead of "History" in the future time." My hand laid on a thick book that contains all of the stories that happened before. The wars, the confrontations, the celebrations, the invention, everything. I had experienced every single events of this world. I had remembered so much. So much that I forgot every details about them. “But, I should stop reminiscing anyway.” There’s still one thing to do. I don’t care if it is me or not. I don’t care if I have lived throughout time. What matters most now, is the man that will come to this library. “Excuse me, boy. I’m gonna sit here.” A man came to my direction, pulling out the chair besides me. If I’m not mistaken, he comes today to read some books. And I’ll do something about it. “You have come at last, Tom.” I called his name, or is it my name? I had been him for almost 30 years. I knew him, as much as I know myself. I knew this man’s true nature. “What… How do you know my name?” He looked strange. That’s obvious. No one will keep a good face when a kid suddenly called their names unknowingly, including me. “Who are…” Before he continued, I pulled out a knife behind me, stabbed him on the stomach. Nice shot. Then I pulled out, stabbed him on the chest again. Great shot. “What the!” He felt from the force, looked at me with a face of horror. Of course, a 8 years old boy just killed him, what do you expect his face will be? My heart’s pounding, my breath’s trembling. I did it. I finally did it. I killed this beast! “Who… are you…?” He tried to stop the bleeding, but I know it’s useless. Been there, done that. “Remember Mr. Smith and his wife that you have killed? I guess not, you barbarous assassin. How many men have you killed?” “Mr. Smith?” “My father. I watched you kill them in front of me. Right in front of me!” I saw their bloods spreading on the floor. Their body laid cold. I didn’t know what I should do. I called their name again and again. But they didn’t answer me. Not a single time. After that, police couldn’t find out the murderer, even though I gave them his description. I was desperate, sitting alone on a bench. That was when a man suddenly confronted me. He told me a revelation. The truth. The story of everything. And then, my memory struck me down massively. I remembered everything. I am the one who killed my parents… oh… I am the one who killed myselves. I did everything. “When you’ve done your business with the past you, come to this place. It will lead you to a new life.” According to that man, he is my future incarnation. He knew exactly what I would be doing. “Go, end this suffering at once. After you killed him, he will become you.” I nodded, and thus, I am here, watching myself dying in front of me. “Good luck experiencing the murder of your parents you gave yourself.” Those were the final words for him, as he blew his final breath. This cycle of vengeance will always spin. I will always kill myself, and I will always be killed. I’m tired. I want to rest now. Slowly, my feet led me to the place my future self told me. He said I will end everything here and I will get a new life. I guess he’s right. I stood on the roof of a 10 meters tall old building, taking a deep breath and a little courage. I’d done this for millions times. I must say my whole mind are already used to this. “Hope my next life is much more beautiful than this.” And then, I jumped.

[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation.

This is my first comment ever, and my first attempt at a writing prompt. Ahh... ___ There's no one else. There never has been and never will be. The enormity of it pushed at the inside of my skull, not for the first time. I sank to the ground. Ahead of me the nebula of the Source pulsed lazily. It was a warm, glowing white abyss, hypnotising me with it's unspoken invitation. It knew what I sought; what I dedicated so many of my lives to. "Well, f*ck, what else is there to do?" I laughed out loud and took a deep breath. I slapped the floor, got up and walked to the stern, keeping my head down. All the calcs, maps, plans and stories pasted to the walls... Nearly 7 million years of searching all led to this, and it had to be in my final iteration. I took another deep breath and unloaded the ISAP carrier pod. I didn't bother to notify anyone. They'd all figure it out anyway. "Cera, shut down all non-essential and essential systems," I said while strapping into the carrier and disabling the airlock. "Are you sure, Professor? Please confirm your request." I sighed and repeated the command. "Essential systems will disengage in 5 minutes. Should I send a log to the SERV base?" Cera's voice was flatter. I steered the carrier around to the bow of the ship and floated past. My heart pounded. I stared ahead, transfixed. I loved and grieved my lives more than I ever have in that instant; my human existences, my borg existences, my boti extstences, and all the countless others. I thought about my first iteration. That state of blissful unknowing was such a contrast to my current mind filled with tales of love and fear and suicide and ecstasy, psychosis and clarity and burden and joy, torture and peace and everything there ever was. To have accumulated and carried it all was the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me. The warmth of the Source gently caressed my prickling skin as I sailed closer. I knew the distance wasn't real. I knew my skin wasn't real either. This dimension didn't work like that, but I wanted to feel completely human in these last moments of facing a finality I knew I wasn't coming back from. I wanted to feel human when I fulfilled this higher purpose I'd given myself - and so this dimension worked like that. "Professor?" Cera's voice jolted me out of my bittersweet hypnosis. I exhaled. "Send a log, don't bother with details," I said. "Comfirmed. Log sent." I disabled Cera's connection to the carrier. The main ship still had 3 minutes until shutdown. My previous iteration was stationed at SERV's base, waiting for my report. Now I understood why the log was so vague. I would have talked myself out of this trip if I knew then, and one of my other selves would have planned sabotage, but now that I was here I couldn't let that happen. 2 minutes. I was ready. Time was now my construct. I didn't need to wait. I closed my eyes. Another deep breath. I opened my eyes. The carrier was gone. There was no ship. I floated, naked, before the vast and undulating whorls of my maker. I drank in the sight and let all my human senses come alive. I laughed deriliously as tears flooded my eyes and streamed little, glistening orbs into space. The sensations were overwhelming. I surrended. _____ Suddenly, I became engulfed by relief and confusion, suffocating in a blanket of perfection without a need to breathe. Without form, I diffused and shifted into everything and nothing over and over, observing and experiencing this strange newness with curiosity. A consciousness presented itself. It had answers. It wanted me to ask a question. I struggled. I felt like an infant; naive and wobbly, trying to make sense of things under the gaze of the ultimate wise elder. A memory dawned. I had lived before, many times. So many times. The question creeped into focus. Tentatively, I sent it out. ...? The consciousness had no form or face, but at the presence of the question, I was pretty sure it smiled.

Amateur writer coming in lol Part 1 *“Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth: Every single person in all history is your past or future incarnations.”* I looked down at the parchment, frozen. The quill perched between my thumb and forefinger was suspended inanimately above my inkwell, remnants from the last dunk sliding down the point onto the oaken surface of my table. They trickled down, down, down, coagulating into a miniature puddle of black; a black that reflected the dark look held on my face. I forget exactly what my expression was at the time, yet I do remember the raucous swirl of emotion it beheld: A mixture of confusion, contempt, and a tinge of twisted pride. One was paramount above the others, though: Fear. A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead as I studied the meaning of the words I’d written upon the parchment. I wanted to look away, yet I couldn’t; Transfixed by the paragraph, my body betrayed me, forcing me to read. Reading it on loop, it first seemed like a jumbled mass of nonsense; The nonsense of what I’d written while absentminded for the most miniscule moment. Though I stoutly attempted to reassure myself that it was such, I couldn’t find it within me to dismiss it. Something about it gripped me and wouldn’t release, as if I were looking directly into a work of art that beheld some sort of hidden meaning about it. Yet the art I’ve seen does not usually inspire fear. Anguish, sure. Dread, perhaps. But nothing explained why this simple paragraph held me so, why I felt a creeping terror invade my mind and body. It was nonsense. When I read it again, nonsense. The next few times, nonsense. I kept rereading it for minutes on end, always coming back to my original conclusion; Though once, just once, it came across as something different: It was nonsense still, yet somehow, had the smallest sliver of truth within it. Upon realizing this, I somehow managed to gain back control of my body. Brutally slamming the parchment down into the table, I violently rose from my seat as the harshness of the motion knocked over my inkwell. The ink within ran, flowing down onto my shirt, yet I couldn’t find it in myself to care. That dreadful feeling from before remained, causing my breaths to become shaky and labored as if I were working in the mines. I stood there, unmoving, my thoughts still obstructed -- as if my flow of reason were gone, as if my emotion overtook my mind, I failed to achieve any level of cool-headedness that coincided with the demeanor of my usual visage. One moment, I was still. My study, though messy, was silent. The next, I was staring at some sort of illuminated screen. It shone a bright white, yet had bars on the top and bottom that were multicolored, though predominantly black. Again I couldn’t move, forced still by an oppressive overbearance that only allowed me to glimpse my environment. In my peripherals, I could see a board, yet it was one I hadn’t seen before. It had a vast array of nubs and buttons, consisting mostly of squares and rectangles. All were imprinted with a symbol, which I somehow recognized as the English alphabet. Against my will, my fingers moved, pressing down on the buttons with an easy lightness, causing different words to appear on the screen as they swiftly swept across the board with an erratic cadence. With each press, the board lit up momentarily, a teal-ish glow rippling outwards from where my finger had pressed. Looking up from the board, I saw on the formerly blank screen small words, each neatly printed and dyed black. The words were strung into sentences, which were arranged into blocky paragraphs -- paragraphs that reminded me much of my own writing. I -- whoever “I” was -- was writing. For a brief period, the fear was all gone. I was drawn into the words appearing on the screen, focused intently on the small snippets of black speedily amassing across the white. Occasionally, “I” would shift my right hand to a device, rolling my finger across a miniature grooved wheel upon the top. The screen would shift with the action, panning the display upwards to reveal the first few scripts and pages of writing. Things would pause as I studied the words, but the writing would always resume as the first press of a button instantly scrolled all the way down to the empty white of unwritten sentences. The prior fear had vanished entirely as I observed the steady ebb and flow of words appearing and disappearing before me, sentences surging forth and receding with unprecedented, chaotic tempo. Though the tempo had a discordant rhythm to it. One familiar to me: The rhythm of writing. Soon, the hands on the keyboard lay still. Completely mesmerized, I eagerly awaited to see what “I” would write next upon the screen. Nothing appeared, though. Minutes passed, and nothing new came up. I saw a finger apprehensively approach a button, but recoil away slightly. It reached out towards the key once more, yet stopped within a millimeter’s length away from pressing it. It stood there, frozen, for what seemed like hours on end. Finally, with what seemed to be a herculean effort backing it, the key was pressed. And at once, I returned to my study. The oil lamp still remained bright, as if no time had passed at all. The crumpled remains of drafts and wasted parchment lay scattered across the floor, overturned books accompanying them frequently. There was no shaking present in my arms, no quivering in my legs, no harsh breaths; in fact, all of that was gone. Completely gone with no trace of their appearance in the first place, aside from my own memory. “What,” I uttered, “Was that?”

[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation.

I kicked the rubble beneath my feet, staring at the remains of the once beautiful city, watching as the small fragments of metal dispersed over the dry landscape. So, this is the future I create? My parents were one of the few people to survive the outbreak, having a strange unnatural immunity to the virus that was spread. My parents called it luck, but I knew that luck didn’t exist, not when I played every character in this world. They purposely spared the couple so I could be reborn into this world. They wanted me to see this. This was all my doing. In the future, I would decide to wipe out humanity and I wished to make myself aware of that. I just couldn’t comprehend why I would do this. Why make such a grand display like this? Why kill off so many of my lives? It was unsettling. For the first time, things felt out of my control. There was comfort in the fact that I could influence every decision in the world, but this, I couldn’t prevent this. This was the end of the line. When I became this person, I would doom us all. Sure, I could tell myself that I wouldn’t become like them, but that was easier said than done. The universe had a funny way of making you stick to its script, even if you tried your hardest to avoid it. That didn’t make it impossible however, I could still kill that version of myself, but again, the universe made that a hard process. I tried to avoid being reborn in the future for this very reason; I didn’t want to know the consequences of my actions. During my many lives, I had tried to be good, but every so often, things would happen that were out of my control. Minor lapses in my judgement that made me do stupid things. I had fought wars with myself, killed or robbed to stay alive and, as such, I have also had the misfortune of being on the other end of those decisions. “Maybe it all gets too much?” That was the best conclusion I could come to, only able to shrug at the empty landscape around me, not having anything else to go off. I couldn’t even ask myself why I did it. They would have perished in the outbreak as well, meaning my only chance at stopping myself was to come back as either of my parents. If my parents have an immunity to the virus, that must mean they encountered the one that caused this at some point in their lives. I would have two chances to find that version of me and kill them. That’s if I don’t become them first. It was a gamble on who I returned as. I could have to go through billions of deaths before I roll that three in however billion people there are chance of becoming either my mom, dad or the one that caused this. But what choice did I have? If I didn’t stop this, I would cease to exist, and I didn’t want to find out what happens when I run out of lives to live. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I would have another thirty or forty years left of life before I died, and those years would have to be spent alone. My parents had passed away a few years ago and without the company it would force me to wander the ruins of humanity alone. Maybe that was for the best? Perhaps I could uncover something before my next life, something that would make this mystery easier to solve. Even if that was just a dream, I didn’t see any reason to be negative. With my current goal decided, I headed further into town, ready to explore the decaying buildings.       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

I'm not the only one who knows, at this point. Others realized along the way. I sometimes wonder how many times I have remembered and forgotten--or went mad by the mere thought. Sometimes I feel mad. You start to hear yourself, after a while. In the incarnations that come after you. Sometimes it's a wink. Other times a glance, or a phrase. A certain kind of knowing--where you feel talked down to about every subject and conversation, like they know every excuse you're thinking of, and instead of doing anything at all to change the situation they just snidely comment at your own inability to comprehend. That's when things get very frustrating. It's nice when we all can laugh along. It's a pain when you feel everyone in the room is laughing at you for being right at the edge of getting everything but at the same time knowing nothing at all. Like is the point the fact that when I lost my virginity to my spouse, I was actually just fucking myself? The same me that was my dad, my mom, that creepy kid that used to follow me around and tried to hug me awkwardly? When I got rejected by that one girl in high school, was it because she knew I was still in the closet, or because she remembered me being rejected when she was someone else? Because then we're just a sounding chamber, stuck in perfect wrote theater. Each just echoes and parrots of each other, bouncing off one another. Or are any of us even real at all? Are we in God's cosmic headspace, or is God just staring at the shards of Their broken reflection in a mirror that is the lives of each of us? Did God stop Themselves from remembering because the idea of being truly alone is even too much for a deity to maintain? Is every conversation we have just the interplay of opposites, or are we actually those who forebear the dreams we carry? How many of us are being controlled by those in the know, and are their efforts to stop people from remembering? Is this all just Never Ending Story and we're trying to stave off the awakening of the dreamer? And why does it feel like I've lived even this life before at some points--have we run this album one too many times and we need a new song? Because if I'm just everyone else, and everyone else is just me, that what's even the point for me to be? For there will always be another to fill my role or take my place. One with a body or brain less broken. One with hopes that still shine. One that still has dreams that can come to life, instead of where mine were buried, back when I first remembered as a child. Because I knew the life I would live then. I knew the name I would have to take. I knew that I would never have a gravestone, but I knew the name that would be inscribed upon its head. And even though I tried to run from the name, hide from the name, forget the name. It found me, and haunted me. All of the memories haunted me, of all of the lives staring at me, knowing what I would be and what I would do. Because I was the Last, the one who would end it all. Because I wouldn't reincarnate again. And even though we all knew I would end it, no one would ever stop me. Because I knew they wanted me to end it too--waiting with baited anticipation. So I had to make sure that never, ever happened...again... Shit. It really is the Infinite Limbo. Edit: Added a sentence, also fixed grammar, which I know is still atrocious

[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation.

How do you truly write an original story? One which truly belonged to you, one which was the accumulation of years and years of your life experiences, knowledge, and moral values? I tried every day, wracking my brain, my mind box, urging it to come up with something original. But I know somewhere, someone in history had already thought of it. And that frustrated me... Often I drew my inspiration from my dreams. One time I dreamed of a war and I was one of the faceless soldiers fighting it. But to me I was not faceless. In that brief moment of REM sleep, I swear I got the glimpse of this soldier's life. He grew up somewhere in a village in Europe, he worked in a farm helping his father, he married his childhood sweetheart until he had to answer the call to protect his country and his king. But then again, I knew it was not something no one had never thought of. So I shelved it and moved on... But still, I accumulated these stories in a journal somewhere and I even shared some of it in an online platform for writers such as myself... It was another sleepless night in my small apartment. The night was cold and rainy, and I was buried under tons of warm clothing complete with 3 layers of socks to warm my freezing toes. I left my hands uncovered however, as I needed to type on my old laptop and scrolled my mouse down my favorite website. "The Princess and The Cursed Frog, The Undead Masked Slasher, Dracula vs Zombie...", I sighed, reading the titles of the stories posted on the website, not even bothering to read them. "Come on guys, get creative..." I stopped scrolling when a title caught my attention... "My Dream: A Lost Hiker in Ranchstone National Park" The reason it caught my attention was it happened to me. Ranchstone National Park was a small national park a few hours ride from my town. And I went there solo hiking about 2 weeks previous. And I did get lost in there... With much curiosity I clicked on the story, written by someone with the username "Starman5001" and I began to read... It began with the backstory of this writer, saying that he had a very vivid dream of being in a national park and he got lost right around the east lookout of the clearing in the middle of the site. A cold shiver went down my spine as I read it again and again to make sure. That was the exact location I got lost... Starman5001 continued and he laid down the most vivid description of my feelings then, my surrounding area, even down to the clothing I was wearing. By the time I was done with his story I was perplexed. Stunned in silence, I stared quietly at my monitor. How did this person know what I went through? So without hesitation I sent him a direct message through the website's chat messaging function, inquiring him about the story of his dream and detailing that it was my experience he just put into words... I didn't expect to get an immediate answer but to my surprise I did, and as soon as I read his answer it sent another shiver down my spine... "I can't believe it. I found you", he replied. I must've sat there for minutes before I gathered enough courage to reply. "What do you mean you found me?", I said. "Tell me, is your name Austin Chandler, born 1992...", he replied with my detail identity along with my parents' names, the town I lived in, and even the name of my first dog. I was about to disconnect from the chat when he changed his tune, ensuring he was not a stalker, prompting me to relax. He told me his name was David and he lived in a different continent from me. He was born years and years before me and we had never crossed path in our lives ever. My point was, there was no way he would know about even the smallest detail of my life... "Austin, do you believe in reincarnation?", he asked. "Uh, not really no", I answered quickly. "What if I tell you that reincarnation is very real? And I was reincarnated from you?" I frowned at that statement as I fired up a rebuttal. "Uh...I'm not dead yet" "No, but you will someday! And once you do, you will reincarnate as me!", he answered. I laughed at that ridiculous notion. "Dude, I know we're both writers but I'm being serious here" "I'm being serious as well, Austin. Time is not linear as we know it. In the matter of life and death, at least. Once you are dead, you will be reincarnated into someone else at a random point in history. Be it your past or your future, and this new life you are born into retains the memory its previous lives back many many generations before" I awaited as my mind was marinated by the information when David's text bubble popped up again. "Have you ever had any dreams so vivid, you swear you lived another life in that dream?" My fingers over my keyboard for a second when I emptily replied... "Yes" "It is not a dream, Austin. It's a memory of one of our past lives resurfacing", David said. "Our?", I asked. "Think about it, Austin. If each one of us is a reincarnation of someone from any random point in history, there is a possibility that there was only ever 1 unique individual going through billions of reincarnations, interacting with his or her distant past and future incarnations" "How did you know all of this?", I fired back. The ellipsis on David's text bubble was waving for a few seconds when David's text bubble popped up again, this time with a link. "This is a link to a private chat group I'm a part of. It's called the Original's Incarnates. Its members consist of people just like you and me, Austin. People who have unlocked their past memories and found their link in this long chain of reincarnations. I was added by a woman living in South Korea when I found her story depicting a time when I was deployed as a marine during my youth" I hesitated at first as I placed my cursor o the link but I didn't click it. David seemed to know my skepticism as he sent another message to me. "I know this is hard to believe, Austin. But once you interact with the people there you'll see that I am telling the truth. Our goal is not just to connect this chain, Austin. Our goal is to find the original, the story of the first individual that started the reincarnations. Our story, Austin! ***Our*** ***story!***" My heart beat fast as at that moment I clicked the link David sent me. I opened up this door I didn't know existed and I was ready to delve into this rabbit hole, this seemingly impossible truth. What finally convinced me? Well, two simple words from David... "Our story" If true what he said, that means every single story in the existence of human history, every single idea ever conjured up, every single one of them...they are all my original stories. r/HangryWritey

I'm not the only one who knows, at this point. Others realized along the way. I sometimes wonder how many times I have remembered and forgotten--or went mad by the mere thought. Sometimes I feel mad. You start to hear yourself, after a while. In the incarnations that come after you. Sometimes it's a wink. Other times a glance, or a phrase. A certain kind of knowing--where you feel talked down to about every subject and conversation, like they know every excuse you're thinking of, and instead of doing anything at all to change the situation they just snidely comment at your own inability to comprehend. That's when things get very frustrating. It's nice when we all can laugh along. It's a pain when you feel everyone in the room is laughing at you for being right at the edge of getting everything but at the same time knowing nothing at all. Like is the point the fact that when I lost my virginity to my spouse, I was actually just fucking myself? The same me that was my dad, my mom, that creepy kid that used to follow me around and tried to hug me awkwardly? When I got rejected by that one girl in high school, was it because she knew I was still in the closet, or because she remembered me being rejected when she was someone else? Because then we're just a sounding chamber, stuck in perfect wrote theater. Each just echoes and parrots of each other, bouncing off one another. Or are any of us even real at all? Are we in God's cosmic headspace, or is God just staring at the shards of Their broken reflection in a mirror that is the lives of each of us? Did God stop Themselves from remembering because the idea of being truly alone is even too much for a deity to maintain? Is every conversation we have just the interplay of opposites, or are we actually those who forebear the dreams we carry? How many of us are being controlled by those in the know, and are their efforts to stop people from remembering? Is this all just Never Ending Story and we're trying to stave off the awakening of the dreamer? And why does it feel like I've lived even this life before at some points--have we run this album one too many times and we need a new song? Because if I'm just everyone else, and everyone else is just me, that what's even the point for me to be? For there will always be another to fill my role or take my place. One with a body or brain less broken. One with hopes that still shine. One that still has dreams that can come to life, instead of where mine were buried, back when I first remembered as a child. Because I knew the life I would live then. I knew the name I would have to take. I knew that I would never have a gravestone, but I knew the name that would be inscribed upon its head. And even though I tried to run from the name, hide from the name, forget the name. It found me, and haunted me. All of the memories haunted me, of all of the lives staring at me, knowing what I would be and what I would do. Because I was the Last, the one who would end it all. Because I wouldn't reincarnate again. And even though we all knew I would end it, no one would ever stop me. Because I knew they wanted me to end it too--waiting with baited anticipation. So I had to make sure that never, ever happened...again... Shit. It really is the Infinite Limbo. Edit: Added a sentence, also fixed grammar, which I know is still atrocious

[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation.

I walked up to the first. As the last, I had everything he was to learn. He looked to me, his eyes questioning. Was it worth it? Was everything he was about to embark upon going to be worth it. I smiled. Of course, as the last I knew that answer, but he still has yet to take the path and learn why he had to transverse it. I nodded, indicating that yes you should do it. But there was hesitation. The first had many questions and of course I could not answer any of them other than to assent that yes it should be done. And since I was once him, there's so much to live for. Even if every single person was me, it was the journey that was worth it. I had married myself, birthed myself, killed myself, hated myself, loved myself, and in time learned to create myself. The cycle in and of itself was endless, and yet despite having lived it again and again and again, I would do it again if I could. But my time was at an end. There was no more after me and never to be. As I looked at the first, I grew a bit jealous knowing that he would eventually become me. That all that I have experienced he still had yet to discover. But as I have come to love myself and hate myself, I knew that this was the journey that he needed to make. To discover all that it meant to be and then to cease to be. That is the journey, isn't it? Why we all did it through all time but to discover what the end was like. I waved the first on and told him to go down the path that he should start. Ironically he was not the first to invent the way but in the weird idiosyncratic way that all things are, one of us discovered how to become the first and allowed us all to become what we became. And I hope that he enjoys every second of it.

It only took me a billion lives to figure out life’s purpose. I have died again. This time, it was a high-flying stunt, a steam-powered rocket that while, impressive for being created with a box of scraps in a messy garage, was unfortunately not enough for me to go to space. The goal wasn’t for me to get to space, anyway. I’ve already been there, as one of my other lives. Stepped on the moon, even. It was utterly thrilling, a crescendo swell that sent excited blood pumping relentlessly through my head. I’ve been rich, poor, pretty, ugly, smart, stupid, fat, thin, successful, not, kill, killed. If there was a spectrum of human emotions, I should have felt every one. A billion lives. Yet, I could not help but feel I’ve not. I’ve had every memory with me. I sifted through them all, but it was like trying to catch sand with an open palm. There was only one way to make things less complicated, I wagered, and closed my eyes. When I opened, my new reincarnation body was unfamiliar. It was of man, but it was of man far before man knew to call itself that. When you are lost, it’s always a good idea to start from the beginning. I grasped a smooth stone, and struck it hard on the ground, watching little flecks chip away. There was the spark of creation in my mind, an indelible mark that will forever light the path. Heads swivelled towards me, and I held up the now slightly-sharper rock, a palpable change that will set the tone for millions of years to come. In the grand scheme of things, humanity was a little blight—OK, maybe kind of large—on the universe. But within it all, there were stories, meant for gruesome yet hilarious entertainment over a stoked fire. There were lessons, meant to be passed on as sacred text from wise person to person, before somebody challenges it and makes it even better than it was. These were things I had to learn in a billion lives, and maybe one day, somebody else that isn’t me, will be able to once again experience a billion more, and not repeat my trillion mistakes. The first man. The first tool. And the start of every human’s story, written in the great unknown known only as time. --- r/dexdrafts

[WP] “Kill me if you must, but I shall not bow to a king who wears a crown studded with jewels of every life he has ended.”

(first time writing, sorry for bad story, my English is not that good) *How did I end up here, kicked out of every city on this continent. Just a few days ago I was living as a regular human on Earth with a 9 to 5 job, now, I'm one of the most wanted person in this world, something about treason and plotting to kill the king.* I cannot for my life remember how I ended up here, but it seems I retained memories of my previous world... *Wait, did I die? Seriously? I'm now part of an isekai aren't I...* In this world, every creature, from insects to monsters, disintegrate and drop a crystal when killed, the fiercer the monster, the bigger the crystal they drop. Humans have a weirdly shaped one though, pyramid in shape. The other crystals all look like the human classified asscher cut. No one knows what they can be used for, but the bigger crystals fetch a high price on the market. *I guess this is exactly like diamonds in my old world isn't it, a useless shiny stone that is highly coveted, not sure why people want carbon combined into a tetrahedral structure that badly though, I was never interested in those type of stuff.* The state of technology in this world isn't very high either, seems like the medieval era, with no weapons like guns. Everyone... er, well... most people rely on swords or bows, there are some that can use a skill called magic, but they are usually either burned at a stake or allianced with the king, it's basically statistically unlikely that I'll have to face one. With the usage of magic, physics breaking phenomenon can be performed, like creating matter and energy out of nowhere. *How do they do that* If I ever face one of them, I'm basically dead Well, in this world, money isn't hard to gather, even the smallest crystals, gained from killing small insects such a flies can sell for 10 copper coins, so just hunting about 50 flies each day can allow you to purchase all 3 meals needed. For the first couple of days i was just killing small insects in the hundreds to amass money to buy an actual weapon, like a dagger. Figured I wouldn't need a sword, I've never had training and would probably penetrate myself. I also got myself a blowgun, ranged attacks are always nice to have. I quickly worked my way up as an adventurer, working long hours daily as I have no friends or family I needed to care for, all I needed was food and shelter. I eventually got an audience with the king, the messenger said that they scouted me to help with the king's goal. As I was from a more modern world, I did not know to avert my sights from the king. Even I was surprised by the size of the courthouse, this was a bigger room than any rooms I've seen at inns. What caught my eyes was the king's crown, it sparkled with so many gems of different colours and sizes, some as small as a finger nail, and some as big as a first. I was horrified at how the king uses the corpses of living beings to decorate his crown, who knows how many there are. Even the human gem is there, specifically incorporated into the crown in the middle, as if to show it off, *what sick human uses the corpse of another of its species. Actually, what kind of sick human carries corpses around with them, even though it's lighter than Earth corpses and more aesthetic, the moral implications are still there.* "So, what do you think? Do you want to join my team? We can reward you handsomely for your work, you don't have to do much, you just have to injure the creature while I deal the final blow. I'm working to get at least 1 gem of every type," the king said. "Your majesty, may I ask how you got that gem in the middle of your crown?" I asked, hopeful that it was probably just a corpse of a human on death row, still, using the corpse of a human as decoration is a pretty disrespectful thing to do. "Of course I got it from my late father, I killed him with my own hands, he was my first kill, it was what taught me the joy of collecting gems. Having absolute power over another's life and death, it's such an addicting feeling. My mages have been working on a skill, [combine], it can combine several gems into one, what you're seeing is the final result of over 1000 humans," he answered, reminiscing about how he killed the humans. "Your majesty, in that case, I cannot choose to work with you. Kill me if you must, but I shall not bow to a king who wears a crown studded with jewels of every life he has ended." *Seriously, did this guy think I'll work for him if he likes killing so much, I'm trying not to die here* "I see, I thought you'll be smarter than this, did you seriously think I'll let you get away after rejecting the offer? Shame you have to be disposed-" I drew my dagger and quickly used to hold the king hostage, rendering the mages unable to attack, and retreated, using the king as a meat shield, only dropping him off when I have a fair bit of headstart. *Luckily for him, I'm not as sick as him, I wouldn't resort to killing... Yet.* Days passed and every city has a wanted poster of me posted on the city's announcement board, the bounty is more than the royal mages pay for 10 years, enough to make any adventurer who could capture me never have to work again. No one is dumb enough to not hunt me when they spot me. I have somehow became this world's most wanted person. (Again, this is my first story, I have very bad English skills, hope it was at least understandable)

"But he has no jewels in his crown. What are you talking about?" said Jomvur. "Exactly," said Gamvir. "I shall not bow to a who wants to wear jewels who wants to wear a jewel in his crown for every life he has ended, and yet does not wear any jewels in his crown. He wants to be a fighter that has put people in their graves, but he cannot be such a king. He's weak. Therefore I refuse to bow before him, wether my death be what follows or not." "But, if you refuse to bow before him, and if he kills you for that, won't he then have killed someone? Wouldn't that then cause you to bow before him? Don't you see the paradox here?" "If he kills me for now bowing to him then my ghost shall bow to him," said Gamvir, looking defiantly at the king, who looked bored. "But WHAT? That makes now sense! If your ghost is willing to bow before the king then why can't you just do it right now, without dying?" said Jomvur. "I shall only bow to him once he kills me." "Gah! Stubborn idiot you are," said Jomvur. Then he looked to the king and spoke. "King Homkr, I shall bow to you and be your warrior. I shall join your band of warriors and fight for you and your cause." "I have no cause, I just like to make war and stuff," said the king." "A brilliant cause," said Jomvur with some doubt in his voice that he could only hope the king did not notice. "A king that make war all the time for no reason is a king that is experienced in war. When the day comes that the enemy comes to our lands to take them, you shall be trained in the arts of war and have victory at your side. This is something that my colleague here does not understand. Therefore I shall depart from his friendship unless he bows to you right now, as I will do. Nay! I shall even kneel AND bow at the same time before my new king." "Cool," said King Homkr. Jomvur got down on his right knee, and bowed his head before the king. He stayed in that position, waiting for the king to tell him to get up. A long moment of silence passed. "Alright, get up," said the king, finally. "And you?" he said to Gamvir. "Your friend has joined my forces, shall you not do so still?" "Nope. Absolutely not. You have got to kille me first." "Nice. You, the kneeler and the bower, what's your name?" "Jomvur." "Kill this man for me," he said, pointing at Gamvir. "Told you he wouldn't do it," said Gamvir to Jomvur. "Honestly, I thought he would do it himself. It's kind of lame of him to make me kill you just like that. Like, he's just using me right now," said Jomvur to Gamvir in a low voice, as if trying to speak privately even though the king was just there. "I know, right? That's why I didn't want to bow to him. I knew he was like that." "Should we just kill him instead?" "We should. Then we can become kings!" "Let's do it." Gamvir and Jomvur both drew their swords and ran to the throne. There stood a guard on each side of the king. They attacked Jomvur and Gamvir immediately. They had long spears while the attackers only had short swords. Jomvur and Gamvir were both impaled by the spears, quickly and easily. Soon they were lying on the wooden floor, colouring it red. They were both alive, but struggling to breathe. "Kill them," said King Homkr. The guards stuck their spears into the flesh of Jomvur and Gamvir again and again, until they had stopped breathing. When Jomvur and Gamvir opened their eyes again everything was white. They could see their dead bodies and the guards, who were now carrying away the bodies, as bright blu wisps of cloud. They looked at their hands and saw that their hands was just as they had always been. As they looked around, they saw the wisps of clouds everywhere and realized that they were ghosts. "Ah, shit. That was kind of dumb," said Jomvur. "No, this is a fortune. We can now haunt people! Let's start with the king!" "Yeah! And then we can haunt all the other people that annoyed us in some way!" "Exactly! I love this. This is what I always wanted, to haunt bad people." "Mine too!" The two friends started jumping and cheering out of happiness. Soon they started dancing around as they were chanting "Ghost pals! Ghost pals! Ghost pals!" Soon thereafter they started haunting the king by telling him bad puns constantly, day and night.

[WP] Walking to your school you notice a strange bush. It wasn't there before, so you step closer to it. You find yourself inside your house again. Turns out, you glitched the game respawned back to your last save. Oh also, you're in a video game.

"I was just at the end of the block!" I tried to speak. Instead of hearing my voice, I heard a staccato, monotone droning that was familiar and not unpleasant. I looked down. Ahead of me was a text box, with "I was just at the end of the block!" typed inside. There was also a picture of my face. I had purple hair and black lipstick. I was in a video game. I was back in high school in this game, too. Might as well go to school and see what happens. I grabbed my backpack and walked out to the living room. Battle music started playing. Crap! Who is it this time? Mom's redneck boyfriend? Little brother? I looked around the living room and saw three potential assailants, all with full green health bars. It wasn't the dog. She was labeled "Rottie \*Ally!"\* I gave her a little scratch behind the ears. She stood beside me. It probably wasn't the cat. She was labeled "Housecat \*On Guard"\* and watching us closely. I heard what sounded like a dinosaur's roar. "There's the bastard!" Mom's pet parrot, labeled "SevereMacaw \*Attack!!"\* flew toward me. I had three options: Fight, Defend, and Defuse. I knew Mom and my twin brother would kill me if I actually fought the bird; they loved him. I knew there was no way to defuse the situation when there was already a parrot flying through the air to attack me. I chose to Defend and raised my arms in front of my face. The bird made contact with my bare forearm and took a bite. It broke the skin. I saw a red flash in front of me. -25HP. I glanced over at the dog, then took a closer look at the options in front of her. She touched "Defuse" with her paw. "Whatcha doing, puppy?" The parrot, now on the ground, attacked my text box and ripped a corner off. The Rottie laid down on the ground, rolled over on her back, and whined. Little pink hearts appeared above her head. The parrot, much to my surprise, got little hearts above his head too! Taking the place of the scene, I saw a brief moment of, "Jen and Rottie win! +50EXP!" As the scene came back, the battle music was gone and all the animals were calm. I checked my inventory. Notebook x3, Textbook x2, Music Folio, Unsent Love Letter, Bottle of Pop, Pager, Keys, Sisters of Mercy CD, Makeup Kit...Band Aid! I used the Band Aid and gained 10HP. Stupid bird, I was even defending. I heard a ding from everywhere at once. There was a text box above me: "HURRY! Or else you will be late for school." I grabbed my keys, locked up, and looked outside to see no car. There must not be a driving mechanic in this game. I started running. As I ran, I saw a Stamina gauge draining. I kept running, more out of curiosity than anything else. I got to the end of the block and my stamina ran out. Again, I had options. I could walk and rebuild stamina, I could see that happening as I automatically slowed. There was also a button in front of me that said "Heroic Effort." Is getting to school on time really worth a heroic effort? I decided to find out. I hit the button and started to sprint. I saw another gauge in front of me draining down. This time, it wasn't my stamina. It was my HP. Crap! I tried to slow down. It wasn't happening. I tried to steer. I could do that. I steered myself toward the music room, since my first class was orchestra, and that door was closer than the main entrance. The door was open. As soon as I entered, I slowed down and started regaining stamina. Still, I was breathing heavy. I could see droplets of sweat flying from my head. I was met almost immediately by another text box. "The teacher is not here." I had three options: Ditch, Wander Halls, or Homework. I chose to wander the halls, in hopes of finding a vending machine to replenish my HP. It was gonna be a strange day, and hopefully a long one, if I could stay a step ahead of the game and the goddamn parrot.

Walking to your school you notice a strange bush. It wasn't there before, so you step closer to it. You find yourself inside your house again. Turns out, you glitched the game respawned back to your last save. Oh also, you're in a video game. *"On my momma, I would have never thought I'd be a teacher"* Seriously, if you knew me from ages ten through 18 I made bebe's kids look like og Bart Simpson(or Dennis the menace for you old folks reading this). No one would even think I'd become a teacher. Or a damn good one. I grew up here so I can relate to these kids in ways a teach for America grad looking to pad their resume can't. Pro tip: don't work for teach for America. Yes you reading this, just trust me. Okay let's get this out of the way now before you get confused, yes I can break the fourth wall. More like Mike Tyson in his prime uppercut it(hitmonchan sky uppercut for the more nerdy folks reading this). It was litterally one of my first abilities I unlocked. Unlocked you may ask? Well yes! On my way waking to school, yes I was walking, I have a few pounds to lose and not enough time in the day. Anyway, I was walking and minding my black owned business when I saw the bush^tm. Yes not a bush it was ***the*** bush. It opened my eyes more than a red pill in the matrix. It was as if the world stopped after I saw the bush. Imagine you're walking and a Mario mushroom just appear out of thin air? That's what happens with the bush. It appeared like a pop in in a rpg that was rushed out and didn't didn't have time to optimize for the console it was on. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. My hands reached out without my brain telling it too. Transfixed wasn't extreme enough of a word. I had to just touch it. For one second. I had to just see if it was real. I had to make sure I didn't just see a perfectly shaped bush appear where air on a diet was just at. Have you ever driven to work and once you arrive you can't remember how you got there? Imagine that times a thousand. I touch the bush and instantly I'm back in my room staring at a poster of lupita N'yongo. Above the poster was pixelated words that read "Save state one reloaded". *** There's alot to cover so we gotta skip over some parts. I went back to that bush 5 times and reloaded the same save state. It was that morning the exact time I woke up. Time litterally went backwards! Or I jumped through time. I haven't figured that part out yet. The next ten times I went back I had to see if it reset changes. I started with small things, I gave myself a paper cut and then touched the bush. I woke up back in my room with no cuts in sight. My mind was obviously blown. After copious more experiments I figured out that anything that I do in one save gets reset when I hit the bush. Okay cool you're caught up for the most part. Anything else just pay attention and you'll figure it out, you look smart, I believe in you. Aight so boom, here I am in some fucking video game with the power to reset. Lets see if I use video game logic will it work. *** I get out of my bed on reset day forty , and walk toward my closet. It's nothing special. It holds my clothes and does its job well. I stand in front of it and pull out my playstation controller. And I hit the start button. Truth be told I didn't expect anything to happen you see but I can't believe it took me forty resets to even think of using a controller. But it did, being a teacher has a side effect of burnout and that makes my memory go from Jimmy neutron having a brain blast to DeeDee asking what does the big red button do. Anyway, so I hit the start button and immediately a menu comes up. There's options for different types of clothing that pop up all around me. Even options to change my hairstyle, sex, body type, even skin color. I found that last option weird because why would I want to be anything but black? But curiosity got the best of me. I went from Keke palmer to katniss everdeen and it was the most surreal shit. I felt like Ruby in Lovecraft Country. Yeah suffice to say I stayed black. I changed my hair though. I went from a beautiful little afro puff to shoulder length dreadlocks. Because I've always wanted locs but never wanted to go through the ugly stage. If this video game I'm in can help me skip that I'm all for it. Don't tell anyone but I made myself a few inches taller. Okay fine I made myself a foot taller. Be honest, everyone has one thing they'd want to change about themselves. I've always wanted to be taller. In highschool I played volleyball, and I was barely five feet tall. And don't tell me you've seen haikyuu so you know a short person can jump. Nope not me. I can't jump as high as the dudes in haikyuu. And don't get me started on the the girls I played against in high school, they were like giants compared to me. I got a ball spiked in my face once and almost died. What I found interesting were all the numbers and abilities next to the clothes I picked and even the different hairstyles. I have a hoodie on which gives me The height I set for myself gave me plus 20 athletics. It did kind of help with the extra weight I picked up in the last year! Wow I look good! I might start dancing Down the street like I'm Peter Parker with venom in my ear. You know without the cringe. Wait Maybe I'm in a rpg? What do you think? I need to get a party together, I need to find out what class I'm in. Wow! I have to find the call to action! It's like textbook video game stuff. ***help!*** Wow that's convenient. Almost too convenient. It is feels like a trap but like the heros in the books I gotta still go. Weird though it's like the video game gods were listening. I guess I'm about to go save a princess or save the world from a villian with a monologing problem. I save my game then get ready for the adventure.

[WP] You used to be the most dangerous supervillain the world had ever seen, but after falling in love with an ex-superhero who had lost their powers, you decided to hide away all of your equipment and never use your abilities again. However (continued in comments)

...however, now I worry that was a mistake. I should have destroyed it all, but it was such a big part of my identity, it felt wrong of me to get rid of years of my work, even if I had no intention of touching my projects ever again. These projects were a part of my identity, albeit a darker part that I wanted to move on from. Maybe in keeping them, it meant that I wasn't ready to commit fully, or maybe I was a coward for having a backup plan on the ready. Really, I had thought myself a sap, clinging to the past in that way. It had been my projects that ultimately brought us together. Otherwise, I'd have never met the love of my life. Our story would never have had happened. A new story was unfolding, and I knew I had to put away the part of me that they had fought against. We were both orphans, both hurting and fighting against the pain in our own ways. I lashed out against the world, wanting to take down the corrupted systems, wanting to quell my pain with power. They worked to make sure that no one felt the same pain that ached inside them. I found them foolish, and they thought me emotionally adolescent, but they never gave up on me. Love, it turns out, wins. They used the last of their powers to save me. No one had tried to save me before. No one had sacrificed for my benefit. At first I hadn't understood, and the anger inside me wouldn't let me see the truth. I lashed out, destroying what I could. I turned their friends against them, pulled them from their guild, and demolished their home. But they chose joy again and again. Like Lot facing God's trials, they would not break. And what would that make me in that analogy? God? I knew I was far from it, unworthy of such devotion. I hated myself, and yet they loved me. It was then that I realized, if they can choose love, maybe I could too. We spent the next few years together, practicing love one day at a time. Some days were harder than others, but seeing them every morning and holding them every night made it worth it. We practiced loving ourselves, loving each other, and of course, made love with such passion that I could see no other way or path for me. They were my life now. They say when you wear rose colored glasses, you can't see the red flags. I missed all the warning signs of the problems brewing within them. Caught up in my own euphoria, I was blind to the needs of my paramour. I did everything I could though. I had kept them safe. I gave them a whole wing of my fortress for themselves. The tower could see for miles. The castle held everything I wanted. No one could penetrate these walls. No one would take them away from me. After all, they had no power. But they found it. They found my projects, locked away. I hadn't noticed the key missing from my chain. I hadn't noticed them slip away into the darkness of the dungeons. I hadn't noticed them slipping into the darkness of themselves. The smoke still billowing up from the hole in my walls as they fled, I watched as my hero became my enemy once again.

… however I was the one responsible for the death of his family, that lead to the superhero losing their powers. My nemesis, who is another supervillain, Knows what I have done and is threatening me that he will reveal everything to the superhero. There is a fight inside me. Part of me wants to use my super powers once more to make him silent, and part of me wants to come clean to my superhero love, and confess the truth. I decide to pick the second and tell them the whole truth, and as a result the superhero’s anger help him get his powers back and face my nemesis. On the downside of the superhero becomes cold towards me, as he tries to accept all the pain I caused him.

[WP] Monsters of legends have started to appear on earth. However, they don't cause any damage or casualty, they just roam and kind of ignore humanity.

It happened suddenly. Mythical creatures, suddenly real, roaming the Earth. Dragons, giants, fairies, trolls, they were all around us, everywhere. At first people were terrified...but then we noticed they didn't seem to see us. A few panicked shots were fired, and the bullets went right through them. Someone finally worked up the courage to try to *touch* them, and their hands went right through them. If you put your head inside them, they just disappeared, like clipping through an object in a video game. Over time, we just got used to them. What else could we do? For the most part the Mythicals, as we called them, just became part of the background, like the sky. There's a dragon that lives by your house? Oh that's lovely -- they have such beautiful scales! We knew they had to be 'real' in some sense, of course. Though, for some reason, they didn't show up in pictures or on video, if two people -- even strangers -- looked at one, they'd agree on what it looked like, where exactly it was, and what it was doing. You could sometimes even feel the difference in temperature, if you were occupying the same space as a troll, or something, though some people thought that was psychosomatic. Only professional skeptics continued to insist it somehow *had* to be a hallucination. Seeing, it turned out, was *not* believing. I guess I can't blame them, though. They just figured that, even their most implausible explanations, usually complicated webs of interconnected theories involving environmental toxins, mass hysteria, and the recent saturation of the media with fantasy stories and imagery, *had* to be more plausible than something that was, at least to them, impossible. Some of their theories made sense to me, kind of. They didn't stop me from seeing the goblins that live in my building by the dumpsters, but sometimes, I could pretend that I "knew" they weren't really there. But I left that plausible deniability behind at a bus stop, last week, and haven't been able to find it again, since. I sat down next to a fairy, who was seated on the edge of the bench, his little legs dangling over the edge. Even though they're not solid, and can't see us, they do seem to perceive some objects, especially wooden ones, like the bench. I like the little fairy guys, the way they're always so curious and cheerful, like happy little kids with wings. "Aww," I said, smiling down at him. "Hey, little buddy." I didn't expect him to *reply.* "Hey, big guy!" he chirped back, merrily. I froze, eyes going wide. "I'm losing my mind." I mumbled to myself. The fairy giggled. "A year ago, you couldn't *see* or *hear* fairies. Now you can see them, sure, but *hearing* one? Yeah, you *must* be crazy, makes sense to me!" "L-lots of delusional people think the Mythicals are talking to them!" I said, feeling both scared and, oddly, *defensive.* The fairy laughed outright, kicking his little legs. He suddenly flew up to hover in front of my face, glowering, arms spread out , wiggling his tiny fingers at me. "Booooo, I'm your *mental illness!* Harm yourself and others! Make me a throne from the skulls of your victims, and serve me cookies atop it! Booooo!" I scowled. "That's not funny!" "Hey, there's a shiny quarter under the bench!" The fairy said, brightly.. "What?" I said. "I saw it a few minutes ago. It's under the bench. Behind one of the front legs." He said, crossing his arms, and grinning widely. "Okay? What does that have to do with *anything?"* I demanded. The fairy rolled his eyes. "Because, *you* didn't know about it until I told you! So, if I'm *your* delusion, how could I know it's there? That's how you humans think, right?" I blinked. "I guess?" He clapped his hands, excitedly. "Ooo! Let's play a game! I used to do this all the time, back when most of you couldn't see me!" He zipped back down to the bench, and sat. "Okay, so here's how the game works: I'm gonna sit here, and pretend I can't see or hear you, again." And then he went back to watching the road, and idly kicking his legs. "How is that a *game?"* I asked. He didn't respond or react. I blinked a few times. "Hey!" I called to a passing mountain dwarf, strolling down the sidewalk with his axe resting on his shoulder. "Hey, can you hear me? Or...or see this fairy, here?" The dwarf strolled on. I scowled. I wasn't sure why I thought that would help. I was avoiding the obvious. Because part of me didn't want to know. But, in the end, more of me was curious than afraid. I looked under the bench. I picked up the shiny quarter that I found under the left front leg. I frowned. Actually, it was one of those little dollar coins, the ones with different presidents on them. I jumped as the fairy suddenly giggled and clapped excitedly, and buzzed over to look closely at the coin I held."Yay you won the game! Except..." He placed his hands on his face, and adopted an expression of mock surprise. "Oh! That's a dollar, isn't it, not a *quarter!* So maybe, that means I *am* a delusion, and there just *happened* to be a dollar coin where I said a quarter would be! Or *maybe* I'm real, but I don't know all the different kinds of coins you use at a glance, 'cause I'm a fairy with no pockets! *Or* could it be that I just lied about it being a quarter, before, so I could mess with your head like this, right now?" "Why would you do that?" I snapped. "Didn't you *want* me to believe you were real?" He snorted. "I'm a *fairy!* I *want* to fly around, look at cool things, play games, and play *tricks!* Yeesh, not everything's about *you,* guy!" "I literally have no idea if I'm going crazy or not, now!" I cried. "Yep, that's what this game is called! How'd you know?" The fairy said, before bursting into another fit of giggles. I put my head in my hands, breathing heavily. My brain felt like it was going to explode. I thought I might be feeling the beginnings of a panic attack. "Aw," the fairy said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you that bad. Look...think of it this way. Belief isn't...it isn't like that *science* you guys get so excited about! It's not a process. It's a choice, get it?" He made a motion with his hands, like turning a knob. "It's like tuning one of those old radio things, you know? You gotta turn the dial back and forth, and kinda finesse it, until you hear what you were looking for! And, this is important: you have to *choose* to tune in, *before* you'll be able to hear the music! Does that help?" I smiled slightly, looking down into the fairy's earnest little face. It was a new way of thinking about the world, the Mythicals...about everything. And it kind of made sense. "I...yeah, it kinda does. I think I understand." "Good. Cause that's what separates us, you know. On both sides! You're starting to believe in us again, but, this time, you're actually ahead of the curve. Almost *none* of us believe in you guys, anymore. Me? I'm just the exception that proves the rule." "Well, I mean, we can *see* you, now, so that makes sense." I pointed out. He snorted. He took to the air again, as the bus began to pull up to the stop. "So? *Seeing* isn't believing! Weren't you paying attention?" He buzzed right up to my face, and flicked me on the nose. And I *felt* it. My jaw dropped, and my eyes almost crossed, as I stared at the fairy hovering right in front of my face, that had actually *touched* me. *"Understanding,* is believing!" he said, with a wide grin, before buzzing away into the sky, giggling madly. Fairies *do* love to play tricks.

When I was a kid, I used to be in love with dragons. From Toothless to Seraphina, having something scaly with wings and fire breath was the coolest thing my young self could imagine. This was before I even knew about science and zoology, or how it was physically impossible for fictional dragons to exist. And even when I did learn, I never stopped thinking that they were so magical. But like all things that we cherished from our childhood, they're only so good in our memories. Only so good until we look at them with the experience and cynicism of adulthood. I never knew I'd see the day I'd feel the same way for dragons. Right now, as I stood below a tall apple tree, keeping an eye out for a wriggling form in the leaves, I felt more of my affection for the beasties fade even more. "Do you see it, Molly?" Allie asked. I shook my head, and she let out a huff of frustration. She stood beside me with Benny, a long piece of cloth acting as a life net between them, bodies poised to spring into action. But with the way things have been going for the past 15 minutes, I really doubt that anything would happen. What was I doing, you ask? Waiting for a tiny Apple Snapper to finally decide to show itself so we could get it down after Mr. Gomez called them all panicky about his precious little darling Mitski being stuck in a tree. I had refrained from making any rude comments about how Apple Snappers could technically get down on their own since Mr. Gomez was too sweet of a man to turn down. So I hauled me and my partners, Allie and Benny, to do our very special service. Saving dragons. When I chose to be a firefighter, this wasn't really what I was expecting. Then again, no one really did expect dragons to just come out of nowhere. I could still remember that day well. The day everything changed. Back when I was still young and new, we had responded to a call about a mysterious fire that broke out in the business district. Luckily, it was late at night and no one was in the building. But while we were putting out the fires, I overheard multiple reports of people panicking because they heard some wild animal roaring. That raised multiple alarm bells. Animal services had to be called to join us. Police were getting weirded out by the sheer number of witnesses who claimed the same thing. All I wanted was to put out the fire. And then we heard it for ourselves. An earth-shattering roar that made the sky vibrate. It was unlike anything I've ever heard. I remember feeling a sense of awe and fear as I watched something walk out of the flames. Something large. Something serpentine. Something with gigantic wings. It burst out of the fire like a missile, the flap of its own wings putting out the fire. But every single person there caught a glimpse of the scales and reptilian snout. And those wild eyes. That was the first time I saw a dragon. After that, it was like my entire career switched from "putting out fires" to "putting out fires and can you please make the dragon go away?" It was absolute chaos. Every single place on planet Earth had a dragon or some other mythical creature popping out of nowhere. In the Pacific Ocean, reports of gigantic serpents and long-lost dinosaurs. In the Himalayas, encounters with intelligent Abominable Snowmen who wanted to discuss border relations with the local governments. And then, every air space in the entire world had sightings of dragons. I couldn't lie and say that I found the entire thing terrible. Sure, I was getting overworked, but I always saw a *dragon.* Who could confidently say that they were having a near-daily interaction with the wonderful beasts? Only people like me. Best part was that they didn't even attack humans, so they weren't even something to be afraid of. It took a while for us to realize that they were basically just your every other normal animal with the exception of fire breathing. But that didn't really dampen their prestige. At least at first. See, there's this thing called 'exposure therapy'. It's basically the more responsible approach of 'confronting your fear', where you're exposed to the thing you're afraid of but you're never in danger of getting hurt. That way, your brain slowly gets used to the thing and just unlearns the fear. Now, I always knew that this was a method of handling phobias. No one told me that it could also work on the things we loved. But maybe that's just part of growing up, learning to get annoyed at what we used to enjoy. Years and years of constant calls of people dealing with dragon pests, it slowly starts to wear you down. What I used to see as the brightest part of my day slowly dimmed into the constant drone of the everyday. Dragons, the thing I dreamed about the most, became just another piece of the pavement in the walk of life. And wasn't that a tragedy right there. So here I was, Molly Liu, a 32-year-old fire fighter who spends her days trying to rescue tiny dragons out of trees. What a life indeed.

[WP] Monsters of legends have started to appear on earth. However, they don't cause any damage or casualty, they just roam and kind of ignore humanity.

It happened suddenly. Mythical creatures, suddenly real, roaming the Earth. Dragons, giants, fairies, trolls, they were all around us, everywhere. At first people were terrified...but then we noticed they didn't seem to see us. A few panicked shots were fired, and the bullets went right through them. Someone finally worked up the courage to try to *touch* them, and their hands went right through them. If you put your head inside them, they just disappeared, like clipping through an object in a video game. Over time, we just got used to them. What else could we do? For the most part the Mythicals, as we called them, just became part of the background, like the sky. There's a dragon that lives by your house? Oh that's lovely -- they have such beautiful scales! We knew they had to be 'real' in some sense, of course. Though, for some reason, they didn't show up in pictures or on video, if two people -- even strangers -- looked at one, they'd agree on what it looked like, where exactly it was, and what it was doing. You could sometimes even feel the difference in temperature, if you were occupying the same space as a troll, or something, though some people thought that was psychosomatic. Only professional skeptics continued to insist it somehow *had* to be a hallucination. Seeing, it turned out, was *not* believing. I guess I can't blame them, though. They just figured that, even their most implausible explanations, usually complicated webs of interconnected theories involving environmental toxins, mass hysteria, and the recent saturation of the media with fantasy stories and imagery, *had* to be more plausible than something that was, at least to them, impossible. Some of their theories made sense to me, kind of. They didn't stop me from seeing the goblins that live in my building by the dumpsters, but sometimes, I could pretend that I "knew" they weren't really there. But I left that plausible deniability behind at a bus stop, last week, and haven't been able to find it again, since. I sat down next to a fairy, who was seated on the edge of the bench, his little legs dangling over the edge. Even though they're not solid, and can't see us, they do seem to perceive some objects, especially wooden ones, like the bench. I like the little fairy guys, the way they're always so curious and cheerful, like happy little kids with wings. "Aww," I said, smiling down at him. "Hey, little buddy." I didn't expect him to *reply.* "Hey, big guy!" he chirped back, merrily. I froze, eyes going wide. "I'm losing my mind." I mumbled to myself. The fairy giggled. "A year ago, you couldn't *see* or *hear* fairies. Now you can see them, sure, but *hearing* one? Yeah, you *must* be crazy, makes sense to me!" "L-lots of delusional people think the Mythicals are talking to them!" I said, feeling both scared and, oddly, *defensive.* The fairy laughed outright, kicking his little legs. He suddenly flew up to hover in front of my face, glowering, arms spread out , wiggling his tiny fingers at me. "Booooo, I'm your *mental illness!* Harm yourself and others! Make me a throne from the skulls of your victims, and serve me cookies atop it! Booooo!" I scowled. "That's not funny!" "Hey, there's a shiny quarter under the bench!" The fairy said, brightly.. "What?" I said. "I saw it a few minutes ago. It's under the bench. Behind one of the front legs." He said, crossing his arms, and grinning widely. "Okay? What does that have to do with *anything?"* I demanded. The fairy rolled his eyes. "Because, *you* didn't know about it until I told you! So, if I'm *your* delusion, how could I know it's there? That's how you humans think, right?" I blinked. "I guess?" He clapped his hands, excitedly. "Ooo! Let's play a game! I used to do this all the time, back when most of you couldn't see me!" He zipped back down to the bench, and sat. "Okay, so here's how the game works: I'm gonna sit here, and pretend I can't see or hear you, again." And then he went back to watching the road, and idly kicking his legs. "How is that a *game?"* I asked. He didn't respond or react. I blinked a few times. "Hey!" I called to a passing mountain dwarf, strolling down the sidewalk with his axe resting on his shoulder. "Hey, can you hear me? Or...or see this fairy, here?" The dwarf strolled on. I scowled. I wasn't sure why I thought that would help. I was avoiding the obvious. Because part of me didn't want to know. But, in the end, more of me was curious than afraid. I looked under the bench. I picked up the shiny quarter that I found under the left front leg. I frowned. Actually, it was one of those little dollar coins, the ones with different presidents on them. I jumped as the fairy suddenly giggled and clapped excitedly, and buzzed over to look closely at the coin I held."Yay you won the game! Except..." He placed his hands on his face, and adopted an expression of mock surprise. "Oh! That's a dollar, isn't it, not a *quarter!* So maybe, that means I *am* a delusion, and there just *happened* to be a dollar coin where I said a quarter would be! Or *maybe* I'm real, but I don't know all the different kinds of coins you use at a glance, 'cause I'm a fairy with no pockets! *Or* could it be that I just lied about it being a quarter, before, so I could mess with your head like this, right now?" "Why would you do that?" I snapped. "Didn't you *want* me to believe you were real?" He snorted. "I'm a *fairy!* I *want* to fly around, look at cool things, play games, and play *tricks!* Yeesh, not everything's about *you,* guy!" "I literally have no idea if I'm going crazy or not, now!" I cried. "Yep, that's what this game is called! How'd you know?" The fairy said, before bursting into another fit of giggles. I put my head in my hands, breathing heavily. My brain felt like it was going to explode. I thought I might be feeling the beginnings of a panic attack. "Aw," the fairy said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you that bad. Look...think of it this way. Belief isn't...it isn't like that *science* you guys get so excited about! It's not a process. It's a choice, get it?" He made a motion with his hands, like turning a knob. "It's like tuning one of those old radio things, you know? You gotta turn the dial back and forth, and kinda finesse it, until you hear what you were looking for! And, this is important: you have to *choose* to tune in, *before* you'll be able to hear the music! Does that help?" I smiled slightly, looking down into the fairy's earnest little face. It was a new way of thinking about the world, the Mythicals...about everything. And it kind of made sense. "I...yeah, it kinda does. I think I understand." "Good. Cause that's what separates us, you know. On both sides! You're starting to believe in us again, but, this time, you're actually ahead of the curve. Almost *none* of us believe in you guys, anymore. Me? I'm just the exception that proves the rule." "Well, I mean, we can *see* you, now, so that makes sense." I pointed out. He snorted. He took to the air again, as the bus began to pull up to the stop. "So? *Seeing* isn't believing! Weren't you paying attention?" He buzzed right up to my face, and flicked me on the nose. And I *felt* it. My jaw dropped, and my eyes almost crossed, as I stared at the fairy hovering right in front of my face, that had actually *touched* me. *"Understanding,* is believing!" he said, with a wide grin, before buzzing away into the sky, giggling madly. Fairies *do* love to play tricks.

Panic was the first reaction when the Vision Seal failed. It was understandable, even predictable. The Council had predicted such a thing of course. They had contingencies in place. "Fadeaway, how is the opposing seal holding?" The speaker was dressed in thick black robes that seemed to have swallowed him. His voice was crisp and clear, used to giving orders. The man he address was thin, in a clean white suit. His face was slightly drawn, but one that was instantly forgettable. "It is holding up near perfectly. A couple of oddities as are expected, but nothing of note." "Excellent." The hood of the robed man turned to the person on their circular table. "Are the military behaving, Merc?" She wore a set of camouflage patterned clothing. Her hair was cut short, with a no-nonsense expression on her face. "Yes. The influences performed as expected. No large scale operations, and any minor ones have been quashed." "Good. And Membrane, how are the Displacement seal doing? Any signs of degradation?" The woman he addressed wore a light grey summer dress. She sat casually at the table, tapping her fingers on its polished surface. "Nothing more than would be expected. To be on the safe side I have instructed teams to start replacing the older components just in case." "Good." He looked towards the centre of the table. At a gesture the air over it rippled, forming an image of a shopping centre. With it being a Saturday, it would normally be crammed with people. But today it was empty, as a family of griffons wandered through. "For the past day, scenes like this are common. I have initiated the Farnex principle for the moment, until such time as the seal is back online. The question is, what can we do for afterwards? We need to wipe this from their memory." Fadeaway leaned forwards, interlacing his fingers. "Memory isn't the only issue. Their electronic data would need purging as well." The robed figure nodded his head. "That as well. Talk to the magitech groups. Get them on it now." Fadeaway bowed his head. "As you say, Grand Mage." "Merc, I want you investigating why it broke. It may have simply worn, but it might not have. If someone is responsible, bring them in." "Understood." "Membrane, keep doing what you are doing." "Yes Grand Mage." The meeting done, the three of them left, leaving the Grand Mage alone. He watched the projection, thinking. He sincerely doubted this was an accident. Someone wanted to upset the status quo. He grinned. Despite the situation, he found himself quite excited. Something different was always worth looking forward to.

[WP] Monsters of legends have started to appear on earth. However, they don't cause any damage or casualty, they just roam and kind of ignore humanity.

It was a day like any other, the birds chirped in the sky, followed by flocks of harpies. The faint screams of the harpies and singing from the birds filled the air in a completely inharmonious union. There was a time months ago when you could walk down the street without seeing a beast with 10 eyes dressed in a suit complaining about tps reports. This was no longer the case unfortunately, I'd been tailing this particular beast for 3 weeks now. It was suspected that he had been stealing office supplies from the kobolds on the 4th floor. Before all this I was a P.I. investigating suspected cheating husbands. When the monsters arose from the abyss and various other gateways to other realms, people lost interest in what their other half were doing. The world was gripped by fear for a few weeks wondering what they could have planned. As it turns out, they didn't want anything. After the first week the gateways closed and a spokesperson for the monsters called a press conference. It was rather short as press conferences go, they simply walked on stage and said "we'll be staying here for the foreseeable future. We care not for eating you, or disturbing your lives. It was simply getting rather hot in our world, so we fancied a change of weather". With that, the government simply allowed them to stay. This could be due to the fact that everyone in charge was too afraid to do anything, or just too lazy. Either way it made a lot of work for people like myself. A sudden influx of jobs to look into sketchy new co-workers filled my mailbox each and every day. What each and every one of these jobs usually came to was that their new co-worker was a succubus stealing their clients through rather 'special' means. My last job was to look into children going missing in a nearby town. As daunting as this seemed, it was just some monster creating a new school but they hadn't been taught about the correct procedures in getting students. But my current job was to tail one Mr Erik Businessman. Not the fanciest name but most monsters took the name of the job they were employed at in our world. A man suspected of stealing toners and paper from the office, my report is due tomorrow and I don't have anything to say other than that he's a nice guy. I saw him save a pigeon from being run over yesterday and today he helped some senior citizens cross the street. The only thing he should be suspected of is being too caring. Anyway, I could write all day about my exploits looking into the various new creatures of our worlds, but I've got a town of arachnids to investigate. This is Phillip Dragwin, best monster investigator in Orchall city, signing off.

Panic was the first reaction when the Vision Seal failed. It was understandable, even predictable. The Council had predicted such a thing of course. They had contingencies in place. "Fadeaway, how is the opposing seal holding?" The speaker was dressed in thick black robes that seemed to have swallowed him. His voice was crisp and clear, used to giving orders. The man he address was thin, in a clean white suit. His face was slightly drawn, but one that was instantly forgettable. "It is holding up near perfectly. A couple of oddities as are expected, but nothing of note." "Excellent." The hood of the robed man turned to the person on their circular table. "Are the military behaving, Merc?" She wore a set of camouflage patterned clothing. Her hair was cut short, with a no-nonsense expression on her face. "Yes. The influences performed as expected. No large scale operations, and any minor ones have been quashed." "Good. And Membrane, how are the Displacement seal doing? Any signs of degradation?" The woman he addressed wore a light grey summer dress. She sat casually at the table, tapping her fingers on its polished surface. "Nothing more than would be expected. To be on the safe side I have instructed teams to start replacing the older components just in case." "Good." He looked towards the centre of the table. At a gesture the air over it rippled, forming an image of a shopping centre. With it being a Saturday, it would normally be crammed with people. But today it was empty, as a family of griffons wandered through. "For the past day, scenes like this are common. I have initiated the Farnex principle for the moment, until such time as the seal is back online. The question is, what can we do for afterwards? We need to wipe this from their memory." Fadeaway leaned forwards, interlacing his fingers. "Memory isn't the only issue. Their electronic data would need purging as well." The robed figure nodded his head. "That as well. Talk to the magitech groups. Get them on it now." Fadeaway bowed his head. "As you say, Grand Mage." "Merc, I want you investigating why it broke. It may have simply worn, but it might not have. If someone is responsible, bring them in." "Understood." "Membrane, keep doing what you are doing." "Yes Grand Mage." The meeting done, the three of them left, leaving the Grand Mage alone. He watched the projection, thinking. He sincerely doubted this was an accident. Someone wanted to upset the status quo. He grinned. Despite the situation, he found himself quite excited. Something different was always worth looking forward to.

[WP] Monsters of legends have started to appear on earth. However, they don't cause any damage or casualty, they just roam and kind of ignore humanity.

It didn't happen all at once. It was a slow burn rather, a few sightings cropping up every week or two. Always at a distance too. That didn't help, and with the technology available, people dismissed the first bits of evidence that the world was going to change forever. Four or five months in, it finally happened. A man in Greece was out and about when he saw it. A bird, it's plumage a cerulean inferno, and close enough for him to prove that it existed. Of course, many people thought it was fake. After all, a Phoenix? Really? It was unbelievable, as was the Chimaera that appeared somewhere in either France or Spain. The family that saw it were visiting relatives in the latter country, and the road was conspicuous in it's emptiness. Yet what could the people say when the creatures started cropping up everywhere? One could ignore the possibility right up until their neighbour had a Cockatrice nesting on their roof, or a college shown images of a peculiar leonine with a man's head and a scorpion's tail. A 'Manticore', as the search engine suggested. There was one curious thing about all this. Two, perhaps. First and maybe most obvious, if you were to keep calm and watch, was that none of the creatures showed any hostile intent. They did hunt and eat, as was their need, but even the feared Orcadian Horseman, the Nuckelavee, gave little thought to humanity or its familiars. Even livestock was given little more than a sideward glance, to the confusion of the people who witnessed this. The second notable thing was, as people observed, that it was all animals, for a given definition of 'animal'. There may have been exceptions, hidden in plain sight, but no one could claim they saw a Werewolf, or Kitsune, or some other potentially humanoid thing that could be communicated with. There was no one to ask where these creatures had come from, or why. How they came here, how long they existed. And if they'd ever go away. One day, before anyone noticed, it was normal. Mundane, even. Hellhounds became loyal protectors alongside the standard breeds of canine friends. Phoenix feathers were studied for medicinal purposes. What people speculated to be a dragon had been spotted near Snowden in Wales. And the Nuckelavee was protected from nosy tourists, to give it some peace during the non-summer months. ​ And the world continued to turn. As it has always done.

Panic was the first reaction when the Vision Seal failed. It was understandable, even predictable. The Council had predicted such a thing of course. They had contingencies in place. "Fadeaway, how is the opposing seal holding?" The speaker was dressed in thick black robes that seemed to have swallowed him. His voice was crisp and clear, used to giving orders. The man he address was thin, in a clean white suit. His face was slightly drawn, but one that was instantly forgettable. "It is holding up near perfectly. A couple of oddities as are expected, but nothing of note." "Excellent." The hood of the robed man turned to the person on their circular table. "Are the military behaving, Merc?" She wore a set of camouflage patterned clothing. Her hair was cut short, with a no-nonsense expression on her face. "Yes. The influences performed as expected. No large scale operations, and any minor ones have been quashed." "Good. And Membrane, how are the Displacement seal doing? Any signs of degradation?" The woman he addressed wore a light grey summer dress. She sat casually at the table, tapping her fingers on its polished surface. "Nothing more than would be expected. To be on the safe side I have instructed teams to start replacing the older components just in case." "Good." He looked towards the centre of the table. At a gesture the air over it rippled, forming an image of a shopping centre. With it being a Saturday, it would normally be crammed with people. But today it was empty, as a family of griffons wandered through. "For the past day, scenes like this are common. I have initiated the Farnex principle for the moment, until such time as the seal is back online. The question is, what can we do for afterwards? We need to wipe this from their memory." Fadeaway leaned forwards, interlacing his fingers. "Memory isn't the only issue. Their electronic data would need purging as well." The robed figure nodded his head. "That as well. Talk to the magitech groups. Get them on it now." Fadeaway bowed his head. "As you say, Grand Mage." "Merc, I want you investigating why it broke. It may have simply worn, but it might not have. If someone is responsible, bring them in." "Understood." "Membrane, keep doing what you are doing." "Yes Grand Mage." The meeting done, the three of them left, leaving the Grand Mage alone. He watched the projection, thinking. He sincerely doubted this was an accident. Someone wanted to upset the status quo. He grinned. Despite the situation, he found himself quite excited. Something different was always worth looking forward to.

[WP] Monsters of legends have started to appear on earth. However, they don't cause any damage or casualty, they just roam and kind of ignore humanity.

I park my Jeep at the far end of the parking lot, underneath a massive oak tree. I turn off the engine and step out, breathing in the fresh air. I really needed to get away from the city today, and I already feel refreshed. Things have been so weird lately. Yesterday, a vampire interviewed to be the new receptionist. We had no idea what to do, so we just sat there and asked our usual questions while our phones blew up with texts from our co-workers. *Ask him if he's ever ate a person. Ask him how he quenches his thirst for blood. Ask him if he eats raw meat*. Melinda kept making excuses to come into the room; I felt embarrassed for her. In the end, we chose not to hire him. It's hard enough to keep people on task without a literal monster in the room. I felt bad, though. It seemed... discriminatory. Discriminatory towards a predator. I shake my head. This is why I needed time away. The world makes no sense anymore. Things were already bad enough with the news agencies splitting the country in two and politicians lying through their teeth, and then suddenly out of nowhere there's monsters everywhere. How is a girl supposed to wrap her head around it? I swing my backpack onto my back, then unstrap my canoe from the roof and begin the trek down the shaded path to the lake below. I've been here hundreds of times. My family used to spend every holiday at this lake, kayaking, canoeing, picnicking, hiking. They all moved away years ago, but I still come here whenever I can. As I make my way down the path, my mind keeps straying to the weirder stories I've heard. The woman down the road from me turned out to be a witch, but I can't figure out if she's *always* been a witch, or if she turned into one when the monsters came out to play. Truth be told, I could just ask her, but I'm afraid. There have been no known casualties from the monsters, but surely it's only a matter of time? *That's racist*, my mind yells at me, but then I internally shout back, *are monsters a race?* I have no idea. The cafe put up a sign last week: HUMANS ONLY. DOGS FINE TOO. I wouldn't want to be a minimum wage worker telling an ogre he has to leave, though. It feels like everyone is just biding their time until we've decided if the monsters are good or bad. I've never been good at waiting. I set my backpack in the canoe and push off into the water. At least out here I'm fine. There's nobody about - no one to have yet another conversation about chimeras with, no one to start crying, no one to parrot the latest unfounded talking points. I glide across the water towards the center of the lake. The sky is a perfect, happy blue. The sun beats down, but I have on sunscreen and a hat, so I don't mind. All around the lake, trees, bushes, and flowers bloom. In the distance, mountains rise up, looming large over the picturesque landscape. To my right, the lake ends in a sandy beach, tapering to green, grassy fields off into the distance. The water is so clear that even as I paddle towards the center of the lake I can still see to the bottom. Fish swim in lazy schools, turtles paddle around, and rocks of every shape and color line the bottom. This has always been my happy place. A tremor sends ripples through the water. I stop paddling. The sound of birds fades as the air goes silent and still. I can see the fish swimming away hurriedly, and my heart begins to beat faster. A second tremor vibrates the entire canoe. I sit up straighter and look around for the source, but cannot find it. My hands grip the paddle tightly. A third tremor sounds even closer, and it is then that I see it: a giant, coming down from the mountain. Even at a distance, he is gigantic. His footsteps are like an earthquake, shuddering the earth. I can barely breath. He strides into the forest, his head above the tops of the tallest trees, his shoulders the breadth of a house. "My God," I murmur. He lets out a noise, a groan, that echoes throughout the valley. I can feel it in my skin, settling there like a wound. Whatever he is looking for, he is in pain. I don't paddle. I just watch as he walks through the forest, each step sending waves across the water, each rattling my bones. I have never seen anything more terrifying, nor anything more magnificent. He leaves the forest, enters the grassy plains, goes down a hill, and disappears from view. For a while longer, I sit in the canoe. My sense of tranquility has been shattered, replaced with a sense of awe I have never felt before.

Initially everyone freaked out when giant mythical monsters started meandering around. But when we finally realized that they're fully willing to ignore us and somehow not completely destroy the local ecosystem with their diets they just became another part of life. I occasionally find myself staring in silent awe as I watch a Manticore flying outside my bus' window. Holding a whole shark in its maw probably heading to ward's its nest. I smile as a unicorn clops down the sidewalk, occasionally nuzzling children and adults. I arrive at work, leaving a small offering to the kobold that's taken up residence. When I'm working at my computer all work is suddenly brought to a halt as a Dragon nests on our roof. Eventually I get free of the machine and head to a nice place for dinner, finding a bar run by centaurs and fae. Careful not to give my real name I finally head home, my vampire roommate giving me a tired wave as he heads out for the night shift.

[WP] Monsters of legends have started to appear on earth. However, they don't cause any damage or casualty, they just roam and kind of ignore humanity.

Hunter thought he would have gotten over the initial shock by now; judging by how his body had shut down at the sight of the winged, lion-headed creature, however, he realized he'd been wrong. The monster didn't attack him. It didn't even move; it simply stayed there, perched on its hind legs like an actual cat, flexing its huge wings irritably, as though it had some kind of itch it couldn't scratch. If you could look past how horrifying it looked, and the fact that such a creature shouldn't even exist in the first place, it actually looked kind of peaceful. And that was the strange part. Beasts like this had been popping up all over the country, probably even the entire world by now, for months. It was as if they'd appeared through a breach in reality itself, pulled from the depths of children's most horrid nightmares. And yet, though they looked quite capable of ravaging an entire nation as nothing more than a passtime, they never did. They simply stood where they were, staring into the skyline. Or they drifted along the streets, casually as if they were mere stray dogs. Hunter could remember how the town had erupted when they first appeared. Screams tore through the air like foghorns, loud enough to wake the dead. People stormed across the streets, abandoning their possessions, even their loved ones, to get away. Yet there was no need. The monsters simply ignored them. People had spent the first several weeks indoors, only going out when food and water supplies were low. Eventually more and more people began to slip through their front doors, slow and tremulous. And once humanity accepted that these creatures, for whatever reason, simply *refused* to pose a threat, live moved on. There was still the odd one, like Hunter, who had never fully accepted the ridiculousness of the situation. But the monsters never pounced. Never snarled. Never so much as bared their fangs. Some even actually let themselves get pet, rolling onto their sides and exposing their furry bellies. But while they never attacked, one thing that they always did, was stare. For hours on end they kept their eyes trained on the skyline. It was almost as if they were waiting for something. Like some kind of signal. No one knew what it could be, and certainly not Hunter, but he just wished that when this signal came — if ever they were so unfortunate that it did — that it wouldn't be in his lifetime.

Initially everyone freaked out when giant mythical monsters started meandering around. But when we finally realized that they're fully willing to ignore us and somehow not completely destroy the local ecosystem with their diets they just became another part of life. I occasionally find myself staring in silent awe as I watch a Manticore flying outside my bus' window. Holding a whole shark in its maw probably heading to ward's its nest. I smile as a unicorn clops down the sidewalk, occasionally nuzzling children and adults. I arrive at work, leaving a small offering to the kobold that's taken up residence. When I'm working at my computer all work is suddenly brought to a halt as a Dragon nests on our roof. Eventually I get free of the machine and head to a nice place for dinner, finding a bar run by centaurs and fae. Careful not to give my real name I finally head home, my vampire roommate giving me a tired wave as he heads out for the night shift.

[WP] Monsters of legends have started to appear on earth. However, they don't cause any damage or casualty, they just roam and kind of ignore humanity.

"Good afternoon, welcome to McDonalds, can I take your order?" The lights flickered and the ground rumbled as shadows grew long and an aura of menace crept in through the drive through window. I craned my head to see what was going on. A loud burst of static crackled in my earpiece. "HELLO. YES. I WOULD LIKE A MCBREAKFAST COMBO." It sounded like a thousand souls wailing in agony. "So sorry, but it's past 10:30 and we've stopped offering the breakfast menu. Is there anything else I can get you?" The static cracked again, and a loud sigh like the wind whistling through the graveyard echoed through my ear canal. "Hm. Hmmm." Wet, tentacly slaps tapped on pavement. "YES. DO YOU KNOW WHAT A MCGANGBANG IS? I REQUEST ONE MCCHICKEN AND ONE MCDOUBLE" I punched the order in. "Alright so one mcchicken and one mcdouble then. Would you like a drink with that?" "NO, UNLESS YOU HAPPEN TO CARRY SANITY? I MOSTLY DRINK SANITY THESE DAYS." The building started to rock and the foundation cracked. We couldn't keep him in the drive through for much longer. "Fresh out of sanity, I'm afraid. This is a fast food job. Anyway slide up to the window, that'll be 3.49." I dropped the sandwich bag into an outstretched tentacle and received some slimy change. "Have a nice day, enjoy your meal." "THANKS, YOU TOO." Rumbled a voice directly in my head. "WAIT, FUCK." A strong wind tore through the parking lot as a void between dimensions appeared, sucking up our latest many-tentacled guest carrying his lunch. The lights returned to normal and my headset crackled to life again. Man, working the lunch rush sucks.

Initially everyone freaked out when giant mythical monsters started meandering around. But when we finally realized that they're fully willing to ignore us and somehow not completely destroy the local ecosystem with their diets they just became another part of life. I occasionally find myself staring in silent awe as I watch a Manticore flying outside my bus' window. Holding a whole shark in its maw probably heading to ward's its nest. I smile as a unicorn clops down the sidewalk, occasionally nuzzling children and adults. I arrive at work, leaving a small offering to the kobold that's taken up residence. When I'm working at my computer all work is suddenly brought to a halt as a Dragon nests on our roof. Eventually I get free of the machine and head to a nice place for dinner, finding a bar run by centaurs and fae. Careful not to give my real name I finally head home, my vampire roommate giving me a tired wave as he heads out for the night shift.

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

AITA for wanting to take over the world? I(26f) know what youre thinking, im just some stupid internet troll pretending to be super evil. Well, sort of yes but NO I have a serious problem right now. Like, im literally being chased by cops every other day? anyways- it started when i was younger, maybe 13,14? I wasnt bullied too bad, typical for the popular girls' unofficial duff. I was like a boat of supplies?, i floated to whichever group needed me, i was friends with everyone. But everyone was like really mean to me sometimes but im kinda over it now cause i have bigger problems to deal with. I wanted to be the president. I had big dreams, and i was certain id make it into office. i didnt. whatever. Anyways a long, long, looooong while later (when i was 15) i burnt out due to severe uh... mental issues... i came to the realization id never be president. Those fascist assholes all seem to want tyranny. I hate the government, and what better way to fix that than taking over the world! right? right????? Okay so i didnt know how to go about taking over the world, its not like they had a Supervillain University. I decided to try to sneak into the whitehouse and kidnap the president or something. I got 2 hours away before i got a ticket, can you believe that? i had to go back home but i made sure to try again a week later. i didnt work, so i tried again. 17 more times. they put me on some watch list thing, thought i was a terrorist. Im not, btw, just wanna be president :( im not wrong, right? Am i the asshole?

This is my first piece of writing, it is subpar and you will probably laugh AITA for becoming the leader of a Mexican drug ring? My mother always used to call me a bum. I lived on her couch for the remaining time I stayed in Arizona..ahh those were the days, I would come back some nights shitfaced telling my mom I had dreams to become a Mexican drug dealer. You know what? One day she said to me in a sarcastic but earthly "maybe you should! you can buy me a house instead of sitting on your ass all day eating chips." I could tell she was upset. That was the last time I spoke to my mother. I hastily got my things together that early morning and got into my Shitty Corolla, I stopped by my friend Carlos' house and told him we were going on an adventure. I didn't tell him what. But he beat his wife one last time before leaving her with the kids and hopping my car, I wonder if one day he'll get what's coming to him? Amyway. I drove him to the muddy shores where I linked up with this old guy who sold me cocaine once, he told me to hit him up if I ever needed work. After months of me and this sweaty guy Carlos living in my car and grinding for months, we eventually got an apartment. A nice cozy place in the city. Carlos was out alot until he eventually got his own place. And his own family. I hadn't spoke to my mother in years at this point. Neither Carlos. We drifted away after we hit the bank and made a living. I decided it was time to put down the lifestyle and work on my education. I went to college near my town, that's where I met Sarah. She is beautiful and my wife til this day, but we'll get to that. After a few months of us going out, we decided to get serious about it. Time had passed and I noticed something strange when entering her parents house for the first time at dinner. Her dad said he got a new boss who paid him well, the wife always asked details but he never gave them which was a tad bit odd. He did started the job until the following week, I didn't raise any concerns until I came across a note on Sarah's fathers table on the way out. Me being a little rascal I picked it up and ripped the unopened envelope entitled "C." The note inside read: "3:AM SHARP, MULHOLLAND DR. THIS IS YOUR ONLY CHANCE." I don't know what came over me I slipped it into my pocket and left. Her father had always acted suspicious around me after that. He rang my wife one day and asked us she saw envelope anywhere. I was none the wiser. I decided to visit Mulholland Drive that fateful day. While 3:05 passed so did a lady in a black robe, weird looking. She whispered "initiation" into my ear with a Spanish accent before leaving promptly. Wtf? Soon after a black range Rover pulled up and two old Mexican men with black suits stepped out of the car, the said "Danny"? ( My Wife's Father's name) I replied confused "yeah" "Do it" they said After their words followed a thud on the ground as a man fell face first on the ground in front of me, masked with a cotton cloth disgusting his face. As he lifted himself up he started crying and yelling inauudible noises, however... I recognized those distinct noises! I pulled back the cover. "Carlos!" He looked at me with such betrayal and fear in his eyes, like lost puppy trembling with a thousand jolts of anxiety. His mouth was taped but I could tell from the expression on his face he was begging me not to take him from this wonderful world..all that he has, his kids, his family. The guy sobered up and took his wife back to treat her better. She loves him now, THEY love him now. It crossed my mind. But I realized, this was my shot, my shot to have the riches, the women. The life I always wanted! To flash my wealth in my mothers face, they were all gonna get what was coming to them. Without a second thought I grabbed the katan they had laid out for me before swiftly slicing his head from his neck. Those last few moments before the blade touched his skin memories of me and him as kids flashed my mind, the times we helped each other through hard times, times we would share toys. It was all gone. To this day I sit in my penthouse, being able to afford it after impressing the boss multiples times after that fateful day, him paying me handsomely to take care of myself. I think about that day with Carlos some times and..it doesn't bother me. One Bit. AITA?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

User: horriblymisjudged Title: AITA for NOT murdering my archrival? Post: Some backstory is in order, here. The world is a mess, and I have been trying, for years, to make it a better place. That is, I have been working towards that goal by trying to join an organization that would give me the influence to make the necessary changes to society to fix it. And once I'm a member of that group, I'll be making the world a better place, by putting the power in... different... hands. However, every time I try to do something notorious enough to be noticed, my archrival (we'll call him Captain Dick because I have it on good authority that that's what his symbol is referring to) has stepped in and used his super strength beat me into submission. I mean, technically, yes, some of the actions I was taking were "illegal" by a strict reading of the law, but how am I supposed to disrupt the status quo (a lie of a term, if I've ever heard one: the status is NOT quo) if I'm forced to color within the lines? Besides, there's such a thing as "excessive force," and an atomic wedgie definitely qualified, IMNSHO. Now, for the next part to make sense, you have to understand: Captain Dick is not a nice person. "Serial monogamist" is the term I would use; he's never been known to go out on more than one night stands with anyone. And those women are mostly celebrity Stacies, who deserve to be treated like that and he's your typical Chad, so why would I care? But, anyway, he decides to date this girl who just so happens to be a good friend of mine; we've been doing laundry together for months. And this after he almost gets her run over by a van I had taken control of, by destroying the control mechanism; I barely managed to use the remote control to stop it in time, so it didn't hit her. Somehow, she blames me for trying to steal the van (I was NOT trying to steal the van; I was only borrowing the van so that I could steal the van's contents), and credits him for saving her, when all he did was cause the van to go out of control, and then throw her into a pile of garbage to get her out of the way of the hazard that he created! So, she totally can't see what a dick Captain Dick is, especially compared to me, even when I try to warn her about him. She called him "sweet." How is he "sweet?" I'm the sweet one. So, Captain Dick comes to meet me, his "girlfriend's" laundry buddy, and deduces my costumed identity somehow. I have a feeling he had been tipped off, as my operational security is excellent and it would take far more than his few brain cells to see through my fiendishly clever disguise. Anyway, he taunts me about how he's going to rock my friend's world, as if she was yet another contest between us, and he had won, and she was the prize. And that's just disgusting. She's not a prize, she's a real person, and if anyone was going to win her, it should be me anyway. But then I have a great idea to solve all of my problems: the group I need to join to change the world wants me to murder someone, and killing Captain Dick would prevent her from getting hurt by him, plus I would get into the group, plus I would be able to win her love away from him. I mean, earn her love away from him. And so, I set up the perfect trap by appealing to Captain Dick's ego, and freeze him in place allowing me to kill him at my leisure. And, you know, I'm a nice guy, and murder isn't something I like to do, so I take my time to think about whether this is something I really want to do. But then my freeze ray malfunctions, so my opportunity to kill him has expired, and he's still alive. And the thanks I get for not killing him is that he punches me in the face, causing me to drop and damage my death ray, and then he aims it at me (more of his usual excessive force), and, when he fires it despite my warning, it explodes and kills my friend, his "girlfriend." And I get blamed for it! TL;DR: I had the chance to kill someone who had been bullying me and objectifying women for years, and didn't. AITA? Edit: Some people are claiming that by bringing a deadly weapon into the room, I am at fault for what it did. Number one: guns don't kill people, Captain Dick kills people. And number two, when I brought it into the room, it was only going to kill one person, who deserved it. It was Captain Dick who broke it, and then tried to fire it despite my warning, causing it to explode. Edit #2. Yes, she and I were very close friends. I signed her petition, and we had frozen yogurt together, and we both did laundry all of those months. How much closer can a friendship get? Edit #3. Okay, no, I didn't tell her directly about my costumed identity, but I sort of referenced it obliquely. I'm sure she had a good idea of what kind of person I really was, even if she didn't know the specifics. Although somehow she still friendzoned me and dated that Captain Dick, despite be being a much better match for her. Some guys just put on a costume and say they're a hero, and people believe them, despite all evidence to the contrary. Edit #4. Yes, I **was** a better match for her than Capt. Dick. She was trying to make the world better for people, and so was I. Whereas those who call themselves "heroes" are protectors of the status quo. Yes, with his help, she got that little bit of the status quo she was trying to change, changed, but she would have wanted to move into the next little bit of change, and the next, whereas I can make everything better all at once. Edit #5. Some people are trying to guess my identity. Please stop. It's against the rules of this forum, and if the group I joined after my friend died learns I didn't actually kill her, I'll be on the outs with them, and there goes all the worldwide improvement I'm planning once I'm in charge, so that'll be all your fault. And you're not going to figure it out anyway. Edit #6. I said **STOP**! Moderator edit: >🎶 >He read the thing you posted >And now he knows the truth >You tried to hide your name >But you left too. Much. Proof. >The ELE will find you, >And do something uncouth... >Go try to run, >You can't, of course. >We'll kill you shortly >Signed, Bad Horse.

This is my first piece of writing, it is subpar and you will probably laugh AITA for becoming the leader of a Mexican drug ring? My mother always used to call me a bum. I lived on her couch for the remaining time I stayed in Arizona..ahh those were the days, I would come back some nights shitfaced telling my mom I had dreams to become a Mexican drug dealer. You know what? One day she said to me in a sarcastic but earthly "maybe you should! you can buy me a house instead of sitting on your ass all day eating chips." I could tell she was upset. That was the last time I spoke to my mother. I hastily got my things together that early morning and got into my Shitty Corolla, I stopped by my friend Carlos' house and told him we were going on an adventure. I didn't tell him what. But he beat his wife one last time before leaving her with the kids and hopping my car, I wonder if one day he'll get what's coming to him? Amyway. I drove him to the muddy shores where I linked up with this old guy who sold me cocaine once, he told me to hit him up if I ever needed work. After months of me and this sweaty guy Carlos living in my car and grinding for months, we eventually got an apartment. A nice cozy place in the city. Carlos was out alot until he eventually got his own place. And his own family. I hadn't spoke to my mother in years at this point. Neither Carlos. We drifted away after we hit the bank and made a living. I decided it was time to put down the lifestyle and work on my education. I went to college near my town, that's where I met Sarah. She is beautiful and my wife til this day, but we'll get to that. After a few months of us going out, we decided to get serious about it. Time had passed and I noticed something strange when entering her parents house for the first time at dinner. Her dad said he got a new boss who paid him well, the wife always asked details but he never gave them which was a tad bit odd. He did started the job until the following week, I didn't raise any concerns until I came across a note on Sarah's fathers table on the way out. Me being a little rascal I picked it up and ripped the unopened envelope entitled "C." The note inside read: "3:AM SHARP, MULHOLLAND DR. THIS IS YOUR ONLY CHANCE." I don't know what came over me I slipped it into my pocket and left. Her father had always acted suspicious around me after that. He rang my wife one day and asked us she saw envelope anywhere. I was none the wiser. I decided to visit Mulholland Drive that fateful day. While 3:05 passed so did a lady in a black robe, weird looking. She whispered "initiation" into my ear with a Spanish accent before leaving promptly. Wtf? Soon after a black range Rover pulled up and two old Mexican men with black suits stepped out of the car, the said "Danny"? ( My Wife's Father's name) I replied confused "yeah" "Do it" they said After their words followed a thud on the ground as a man fell face first on the ground in front of me, masked with a cotton cloth disgusting his face. As he lifted himself up he started crying and yelling inauudible noises, however... I recognized those distinct noises! I pulled back the cover. "Carlos!" He looked at me with such betrayal and fear in his eyes, like lost puppy trembling with a thousand jolts of anxiety. His mouth was taped but I could tell from the expression on his face he was begging me not to take him from this wonderful world..all that he has, his kids, his family. The guy sobered up and took his wife back to treat her better. She loves him now, THEY love him now. It crossed my mind. But I realized, this was my shot, my shot to have the riches, the women. The life I always wanted! To flash my wealth in my mothers face, they were all gonna get what was coming to them. Without a second thought I grabbed the katan they had laid out for me before swiftly slicing his head from his neck. Those last few moments before the blade touched his skin memories of me and him as kids flashed my mind, the times we helped each other through hard times, times we would share toys. It was all gone. To this day I sit in my penthouse, being able to afford it after impressing the boss multiples times after that fateful day, him paying me handsomely to take care of myself. I think about that day with Carlos some times and..it doesn't bother me. One Bit. AITA?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

I create thousands of jobs. My henchme- uh, employees - they get paid enough. We are cross-industry pioneers! Our company is giant! Where we source from, well they aren't properly allocating their own resources. And no one MADE them sign the deals. On fact, if it wasn't me, it would be someone else. At least this way, I'm creating value for something that was considered free before! And if it's valuable, then it's not some human right. Right? A lot of work goes into what we do, we can't just give it away. I have all of these people looking up to me to provide. So AITA? -totallynotnestle

This is my first piece of writing, it is subpar and you will probably laugh AITA for becoming the leader of a Mexican drug ring? My mother always used to call me a bum. I lived on her couch for the remaining time I stayed in Arizona..ahh those were the days, I would come back some nights shitfaced telling my mom I had dreams to become a Mexican drug dealer. You know what? One day she said to me in a sarcastic but earthly "maybe you should! you can buy me a house instead of sitting on your ass all day eating chips." I could tell she was upset. That was the last time I spoke to my mother. I hastily got my things together that early morning and got into my Shitty Corolla, I stopped by my friend Carlos' house and told him we were going on an adventure. I didn't tell him what. But he beat his wife one last time before leaving her with the kids and hopping my car, I wonder if one day he'll get what's coming to him? Amyway. I drove him to the muddy shores where I linked up with this old guy who sold me cocaine once, he told me to hit him up if I ever needed work. After months of me and this sweaty guy Carlos living in my car and grinding for months, we eventually got an apartment. A nice cozy place in the city. Carlos was out alot until he eventually got his own place. And his own family. I hadn't spoke to my mother in years at this point. Neither Carlos. We drifted away after we hit the bank and made a living. I decided it was time to put down the lifestyle and work on my education. I went to college near my town, that's where I met Sarah. She is beautiful and my wife til this day, but we'll get to that. After a few months of us going out, we decided to get serious about it. Time had passed and I noticed something strange when entering her parents house for the first time at dinner. Her dad said he got a new boss who paid him well, the wife always asked details but he never gave them which was a tad bit odd. He did started the job until the following week, I didn't raise any concerns until I came across a note on Sarah's fathers table on the way out. Me being a little rascal I picked it up and ripped the unopened envelope entitled "C." The note inside read: "3:AM SHARP, MULHOLLAND DR. THIS IS YOUR ONLY CHANCE." I don't know what came over me I slipped it into my pocket and left. Her father had always acted suspicious around me after that. He rang my wife one day and asked us she saw envelope anywhere. I was none the wiser. I decided to visit Mulholland Drive that fateful day. While 3:05 passed so did a lady in a black robe, weird looking. She whispered "initiation" into my ear with a Spanish accent before leaving promptly. Wtf? Soon after a black range Rover pulled up and two old Mexican men with black suits stepped out of the car, the said "Danny"? ( My Wife's Father's name) I replied confused "yeah" "Do it" they said After their words followed a thud on the ground as a man fell face first on the ground in front of me, masked with a cotton cloth disgusting his face. As he lifted himself up he started crying and yelling inauudible noises, however... I recognized those distinct noises! I pulled back the cover. "Carlos!" He looked at me with such betrayal and fear in his eyes, like lost puppy trembling with a thousand jolts of anxiety. His mouth was taped but I could tell from the expression on his face he was begging me not to take him from this wonderful world..all that he has, his kids, his family. The guy sobered up and took his wife back to treat her better. She loves him now, THEY love him now. It crossed my mind. But I realized, this was my shot, my shot to have the riches, the women. The life I always wanted! To flash my wealth in my mothers face, they were all gonna get what was coming to them. Without a second thought I grabbed the katan they had laid out for me before swiftly slicing his head from his neck. Those last few moments before the blade touched his skin memories of me and him as kids flashed my mind, the times we helped each other through hard times, times we would share toys. It was all gone. To this day I sit in my penthouse, being able to afford it after impressing the boss multiples times after that fateful day, him paying me handsomely to take care of myself. I think about that day with Carlos some times and..it doesn't bother me. One Bit. AITA?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

AITA for wanting to take over the world? I(26f) know what youre thinking, im just some stupid internet troll pretending to be super evil. Well, sort of yes but NO I have a serious problem right now. Like, im literally being chased by cops every other day? anyways- it started when i was younger, maybe 13,14? I wasnt bullied too bad, typical for the popular girls' unofficial duff. I was like a boat of supplies?, i floated to whichever group needed me, i was friends with everyone. But everyone was like really mean to me sometimes but im kinda over it now cause i have bigger problems to deal with. I wanted to be the president. I had big dreams, and i was certain id make it into office. i didnt. whatever. Anyways a long, long, looooong while later (when i was 15) i burnt out due to severe uh... mental issues... i came to the realization id never be president. Those fascist assholes all seem to want tyranny. I hate the government, and what better way to fix that than taking over the world! right? right????? Okay so i didnt know how to go about taking over the world, its not like they had a Supervillain University. I decided to try to sneak into the whitehouse and kidnap the president or something. I got 2 hours away before i got a ticket, can you believe that? i had to go back home but i made sure to try again a week later. i didnt work, so i tried again. 17 more times. they put me on some watch list thing, thought i was a terrorist. Im not, btw, just wanna be president :( im not wrong, right? Am i the asshole?

AITA for destroying a universe? Now, before you start judging, let me explain. So I was doing my thing, being the god of darkness and destruction and all that, when I came across a universe that was filled with mortal life forms. Now, I despise mortal life forms, and this universe’s dominant ones in particular were… not very smart, to say the least. They were not good at keeping their energy-creating processes eco-friendly, wiping out the populations of inhabited planets within a decade of landing on them. By the time I noticed them, they’d eliminated all life forms on all the planets of at least half of their universe’s galaxies. I’d usually enjoy watching that kinda stuff happen, but even I found it stupid how they did absolutely nothing to stop it; heck, it didn’t seem like they cared or even noticed it at all. So I figured I’d… give them a hand, as the best way to put it would be. I moseyed on over to their universe, kinda just made a Big Crunch happen, and… bloop. Universe destroyed. Of course, the goddess of light and creation got super mad at me, saying how “you should’ve given them a chance”, “allowed me to handle them”, “I’d kick you off the Divine Council if I could”, blah blah blah. I know the next Divine Council meeting, which is coming up in just a few weeks, won’t go down so well, so I figured I’d get some advice from you mortals on what to do. AITA?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

I create thousands of jobs. My henchme- uh, employees - they get paid enough. We are cross-industry pioneers! Our company is giant! Where we source from, well they aren't properly allocating their own resources. And no one MADE them sign the deals. On fact, if it wasn't me, it would be someone else. At least this way, I'm creating value for something that was considered free before! And if it's valuable, then it's not some human right. Right? A lot of work goes into what we do, we can't just give it away. I have all of these people looking up to me to provide. So AITA? -totallynotnestle

AITA for destroying a universe? Now, before you start judging, let me explain. So I was doing my thing, being the god of darkness and destruction and all that, when I came across a universe that was filled with mortal life forms. Now, I despise mortal life forms, and this universe’s dominant ones in particular were… not very smart, to say the least. They were not good at keeping their energy-creating processes eco-friendly, wiping out the populations of inhabited planets within a decade of landing on them. By the time I noticed them, they’d eliminated all life forms on all the planets of at least half of their universe’s galaxies. I’d usually enjoy watching that kinda stuff happen, but even I found it stupid how they did absolutely nothing to stop it; heck, it didn’t seem like they cared or even noticed it at all. So I figured I’d… give them a hand, as the best way to put it would be. I moseyed on over to their universe, kinda just made a Big Crunch happen, and… bloop. Universe destroyed. Of course, the goddess of light and creation got super mad at me, saying how “you should’ve given them a chance”, “allowed me to handle them”, “I’d kick you off the Divine Council if I could”, blah blah blah. I know the next Divine Council meeting, which is coming up in just a few weeks, won’t go down so well, so I figured I’d get some advice from you mortals on what to do. AITA?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

I create thousands of jobs. My henchme- uh, employees - they get paid enough. We are cross-industry pioneers! Our company is giant! Where we source from, well they aren't properly allocating their own resources. And no one MADE them sign the deals. On fact, if it wasn't me, it would be someone else. At least this way, I'm creating value for something that was considered free before! And if it's valuable, then it's not some human right. Right? A lot of work goes into what we do, we can't just give it away. I have all of these people looking up to me to provide. So AITA? -totallynotnestle

AITA for wanting to take over the world? I(26f) know what youre thinking, im just some stupid internet troll pretending to be super evil. Well, sort of yes but NO I have a serious problem right now. Like, im literally being chased by cops every other day? anyways- it started when i was younger, maybe 13,14? I wasnt bullied too bad, typical for the popular girls' unofficial duff. I was like a boat of supplies?, i floated to whichever group needed me, i was friends with everyone. But everyone was like really mean to me sometimes but im kinda over it now cause i have bigger problems to deal with. I wanted to be the president. I had big dreams, and i was certain id make it into office. i didnt. whatever. Anyways a long, long, looooong while later (when i was 15) i burnt out due to severe uh... mental issues... i came to the realization id never be president. Those fascist assholes all seem to want tyranny. I hate the government, and what better way to fix that than taking over the world! right? right????? Okay so i didnt know how to go about taking over the world, its not like they had a Supervillain University. I decided to try to sneak into the whitehouse and kidnap the president or something. I got 2 hours away before i got a ticket, can you believe that? i had to go back home but i made sure to try again a week later. i didnt work, so i tried again. 17 more times. they put me on some watch list thing, thought i was a terrorist. Im not, btw, just wanna be president :( im not wrong, right? Am i the asshole?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

**AITA for surprising my ex-coworkers with a trivia contest slash scavenger hunt?** A while back, I (29F) left my previous job once I realized I didn't find it satisfying anymore. I got along fine with my coworkers, though, and I still respect them a great deal. Because of this, I decided to try to show my appreciation by arranging a few fun events for them. Trivia night was always pretty popular at work, and we always enjoyed solving various puzzles, so I had the idea of creating a series of riddles and trivia questions for them to solve (mostly related to geography). Basically the idea was that I'd leave a bunch of clues all over for them to track down, one by one, until finally at the end they'd find a reward. Some of the clues would be phyiscal objects, but some of them would be revealed by friends of mine that I'd asked to wait in specific locations to help. Sounds like fun, right? Apparently my coworkers didn't think so. They tried to arrest me, despite the fact that I was planning all along for them to retrieve the crown I borrowed from Buckingham Palace. I had to leave in a hurry and got my favorite red coat and fedora covered in mud as a result. It's going to be a huge pain to clean out. AITA here?

**AITA for Ruining my Our Bedsheets** I think a lot of people know about this now. This is not only to my friends and my family but also to the whole world. It sucks being a woman, and now the whole world hates me. I need to get some things off of my chest. Some people say explaining the situation is therapeutic, so that is what I am going to do. A few years back, I had an argument with my husband. We were never on great terms, and that is mostly because he is selfish and on drugs most of the time. I could not help him, so I thought the best thing to do is to tell him how much of a horrible person he was. It pisses me off that he never reacted until I came up to him in an attempt to hit him. I only wanted to get him back into a conversation about the whole situation. Next thing that happened, he grabbed me on the shoulders and placed me back on the bed. Then, in his words, he said, "I am leaving, please do not follow me." This infuriated me. I wanted to hit him so hard across the face; and that is exactly what he asked me to do. He told me to him him not once, not twice, but three times. I did not care. I hit him with those three times he asked me. Right then and there, he placed me back on the bed again, and he told me to not follow him. I needed to decompress the situation. I went with my friends to a concert, but this did not relieve the stress that I had experienced. Revenge is what I wanted, and so that is what I did. Really, I did the whole thing as a joke, but it did help get off my chest. That night, I went onto his bed and pulled my pants down. On that same bed, I took a fat one, a brown stinker on his sheets. My half-revenge-half-prank made me feel so much better. I even had to blame our chihuahua about the incident, but he did not believe me; and I do not care. I am in hot waters about this. My husband just announce this on television. He once claimed that I punch him, but that is not even the full story. I hit him, not punch him. There is a difference. I also screwed his career over through an allegation I made at the New York Post. There was no big deal. It was all just to help promote myself for a film, to speak up for every woman out there. After all, we had to sacrifice a pawn to bring a situation to light. I once ask you guys again, AITA?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

u/catfeeder13throwaway TL;DR: AITA for feeding my cat? I’ve had my cat, Roxy, for around 12 years now, and am very in tune with her diet requirements. It gets a little expensive at time, because she’s very demanding and particular with her food and requires certain cuts of meat. Yes, I may have spoiler her, but I’m single [M42] and doing pretty well for myself. (Not to brag, you won’t recognize my face, but you’ll know what I do for a living.) So anyway, I was just acquiring some food for my cat in a new city. Apparently, this new place doesn’t quite bend to my will, so there was a lot of resistance when I tried to get food for my cat. A lot of people were screaming at me, and there were even some costumed heroes flying out of the sky to stop me. I’m just getting food for Roxy, making sure she’s well-fed. AITA? EDIT 1: A lot of people are saying there aren’t enough details in the story. The heroes beat me up really badly. I’m not in the hospital. I’m not at liberty to discuss why I can’t be there. But I’m healing up in my home base. EDIT 2: Stop posting the news clip that seems to corroborate my story. It’s extremely biased. HNN is known to be biased to anybody wearing a colourful costume. I strongly refute that my actions count as “terrorism” and “villainy.” EDIT 3: Roxy is doing OK, thank you for those asking. I did secure some food for her. She’s eating it right now, in fact. EDIT 4: Yes, Roxy’s a lion. A lion is a cat. I will not accept any alternatives. EDIT 5: I don’t understand you guys. The food is worthless. They are thrown in the alleys and dumpsters, abandoned by society. Why is it a problem that I pluck them up and feed them to my cats? If I’m fine with it, why does the law about old food has to come into play? EDIT 6: Yes, Roxy likes the legs the most. She likes chewing on the tough bones afterwards. EDIT 7: Nobody cares about them. Call their families. Oops? They don’t have families? Yes, that’s what I thought. EDIT 8: I’ve decided that I no longer care about your opinions. You guys are TAs here. No thanks, and good bye. EDIT 9: To the person trying to track my IP address through this, good luck. You are pathetic. Your skills are not worth mentioning. EDIT 10: To the people trying to track my IP address through this, you need to do better. Assholes. EDIT 11: It’s not fair. Ganging up on me and poor old Roxy. It’s really not fair. The heroes do it. You guys do it. While I’m at it, I’ll make sure I tear your limbs apart, and feed them to --- r/dexdrafts

AITA for attempting a coup? By u/ TheRealDrMyceliumYesThatOne Edit 2: You people understand nothing. -0-0- Edit: I would like to point out that almost everyone who has disagreed with me has thus far not actually disagreed with my rationale, only with my choice of method. I believe that is called "tone policing", and I will not be subject to it. -0-0- Okay so. I'm writing this while awaiting trial, so it is not really a question of "am I the asshole". I am trying to sort out what kind of response I am likely to get from the jury, and I figured this was as good a place as any. On the 13th of May of this year, I, the great Dr. Mycelium (yes, my rightful username was taken from me by some two-bit mycology MA student) grew fungal nets between all the doors and frames at the White House, Capitol Building, Pentagon, and [here] is a list of other relevant political targets I hit. At the same time, I kidnapped all the hosts of Fox News, and with my henchmen put on my manifesto in which I outlined the various problems of our society, and my proposed solutions. Present problems in our society include: - Lack of accountability on the part of politicians - Massive wealth and income inequality - Insufficient support for our most vulnerable populations, including of course racial and gender minorities but more importantly the young, the infirm , the elderly, and all of the demographics that are less than maximally profitable under our current economic conditions - insufficient resource allocation to the problem of climate change, which includes incoming agricultural collapse so massive it will lead to mass death - inefficiencies in the decision-making process which lead to long, drawn-out periods of stagnation and regress. These problems lead to a variety of second-order problems, such as the destruction of our social fabric as people become distracted by details of identity from the real villains, namely the political class. They lead to countless deaths, destruction of property, economic disarray, and environmental damage. They are also all fairly easy to solve. The correct answer (and the one I proposed) is to simply trap all of the relevant politicians that I can at a given time, expose them to mind-controlling fungal spores, and force them to make the necessary political decisions that will propel the nation forward into a bright future, where our fresh water is clean, our oceans are thriving, our trees and old growth forests are allowed to continue to allow us to breathe, our financial incentives are aligned to account for the dignity of every person, and every person who has stood in the way of this has been summarily executed to ensure they do not pose a threat to this new world order. I would be interim president, until such a time as we had captured enough carbon to ensure we remain below 300ppm for the foreseeable future. I would also of course, step down once the mandate was made and allow a democratically elected leader to take over, provided I could act as a check and execute any who would threaten the plan. I provided a variety of infographics outlining the benefits of all of my proposed policies, as well as the many ironic ways in which I would execute the politicians responsible for our ongoing ecocide. I would like to point out that I was running *live polling* the whole time and over 65% of the audience was in favour of my takeover, which should be doubly impressive considering how radically distant my ideology is to the average viewer of Fox News. Clearly, my message was resonating with people. I was eventually captured by Red Eagle and his buddies, though not before engulfing the entirety of the Fox building in carbon-sequestering edible mushrooms. What good is a massive propaganda machine if it will not alert people to the real needs we are facing today? Anyhow, obviously the system is corrupt, and obviously I would be a much better steward of the government than the lunatics currently in place that corporations utilize like gut flora. But I must be able to defend myself against the arguments that will be posed in court (my lawyer is obviously underpaid, overworked, and understands nothing of my plight) so I would appreciate a sincere attempt at establishing why I am "the asshole" while I was saving the world from its own cancerous corruption only to be thwarted by corporately-backed "superhero" thugs who could offer me no meaningful opposition in the free marketplace of ideas.

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

**AITA for using things that I attained legally through a contract?** I entered into a trade with a young female. Let's call her A. I made her well aware of the stipulations of the contract. I gave her what she asked for and she gave me something of hers in return. She later found out that I was using my newly attained property. It gave me the confidence I needed to put myself out there and meet a new guy. Let's call him E. It went really well and he proposed almost immediately. A got really mad and turned my fiancée against me. E&A took back "her" property (which I rightfully own). A's dad became involved and he offered something of his in exchange for letting A off the hook, so to speak. He signed the new contract. I went about my business and of course, E&A come after me again, mad that I was using A's dad's property, which he gave to me, fair and square! They physically attacked me. The reason I think I may be TA is because there was some use of magic here, but honestly... why does everyone in this family sell their shit and then get mad when the buyer uses it?

AITA for… well, let’s just get right into this. I was a hero, once. What they don’t tell you about being the hero is the bureaucracy. I felt I was gifted my power for a reason and it would be wrong of me to waste them, but I could not handle the leash I was placed on. There are all these laws about property damage and image, what jurisdiction we have to not interfere with the police or military forces. Some choose to implement themselves into them, but I could never adhere to that type of community. I don’t work well with people, I hate the spotlight. While other superheroes flashed a smile and signed autographs for adoring fans, I tried my best to retreat into darkness. I never wore my superhero outfit except when necessary. For others, it became their life. I had my own and did not want it consumed by this government monstrosity that keeps us chained. Eventually, they began to notice that they did not have me on as tight a leash and tried to change that. I kept trying to distance myself from their shackles, but they grew ever tighter. One day, I snapped. They were putting up a series of statues for new superheroes to honor them. I did not mind that they did not include me, but it was a way to send a message: that I would not put up with their bullshit any longer. I destroyed the statues. Ever since then society has painted me as the enemy. I became what they wanted, a scapegoat. It was easier if society could imagine I was the corrupt one and the rest of the world would be cleansed without me. I paid the price for thinking. I grew more bitter with each passing day. Those bastards could get away with anything, and I nothing. I made more public displays, each time leaving messages behind. I never killed anyone, only destroyed government property. The only thing the news talked about is what a tragedy it was. And yes, when I attacked the police station it did have unforeseen consequences, but change is messy, is it not? I have no voice any longer, action is my only platform. I say I was a hero, once, but in truth, I know not what I was or what I am. I don’t believe those smiling celebrities are heroes. Perhaps heroism is a myth, one I was stupid enough to buy into. Crime is up now, so is unemployment and government debt. Society blames me. Do you?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

⬆️ ^(Posted by ImmovableGoddess 4 hours ago 🏆 5🌋🔥2💥☠ 🌊) AITA **For refusing to get out of the way for a ship full of people?** (Long POST- Names have been changed) 🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊 Okay, so I (25F) am just minding my own business, floating in the sea happily on a nice, icy cold night, and it's been like a really long day at work, so it could explain why I was so cranky. I mean this was late at night, people. This was at like 11PM, it's almost midnight. I shouldn't have even been out, I am not going to lie, but it was the weekend and I was just trying to have some fun with my friends . So my friends and I are all having an awesome time floating around, chilling, and all of the sudden this ship full of people, let's call him, Gerald, (M) comes up to me, like barreling down at like 20 knotts. ((Honestly, it was probably more like 22 knotts or even 24 knotts.)) Anyways, my friends all agree as we are watching this happen, that this is insane. It's 11PM , people should be sleeping, you should be going slower at night too (Isn't there like a law for that kind of thing?IDK) So anyways, this big ship was all like "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!!" as it comes barreling at me at some crazy speed. 💦 OKAY, so this is probably totally bad behavior on my part, like I said I was tired and had a long day at work. When the ship was coming at me, and all my friends were watching (sort of egging me on, not going to lie) , I just .... I just didn't move. Honestly it would have been no problem, but I don't know. It was in the moment, and there was all this yelling and screaming and dying, and I was too tired to think right. Was I too stubborn? Should I have been the bigger person? If you are just standing there, and some guy tells you to move out of the way for *HIM* , is it so wrong to say "Uh, No!". Why does he have the right of way, and I don't? It just really hurt my feelings, that this guy comes up to me and tells me to move, and what- I just obey? Why because he is a man and I am an Iceberg? 🚫That's discrimination in my mind!🚫 So long story short, all these people like froze to death in the water after Gerald went full speed ahead and bumped into me. I shoved him off of me, and I didn't know the guy only had like two hulls. If I had known he had two hulls, I would have been way more gentle, or even just moved. I think they said like 1,500 people died in the water, so honestly I was pretty bummed about it. You know, I could see all those little cute humans just drowning in the water there, but I am not CPR certified or any of my friends, so we just bounced and didn't look back.🥶 I feel really bad guys. I don't know, what do you think? Was I the asshole, or was I just standing up for my rights?

AITA for… well, let’s just get right into this. I was a hero, once. What they don’t tell you about being the hero is the bureaucracy. I felt I was gifted my power for a reason and it would be wrong of me to waste them, but I could not handle the leash I was placed on. There are all these laws about property damage and image, what jurisdiction we have to not interfere with the police or military forces. Some choose to implement themselves into them, but I could never adhere to that type of community. I don’t work well with people, I hate the spotlight. While other superheroes flashed a smile and signed autographs for adoring fans, I tried my best to retreat into darkness. I never wore my superhero outfit except when necessary. For others, it became their life. I had my own and did not want it consumed by this government monstrosity that keeps us chained. Eventually, they began to notice that they did not have me on as tight a leash and tried to change that. I kept trying to distance myself from their shackles, but they grew ever tighter. One day, I snapped. They were putting up a series of statues for new superheroes to honor them. I did not mind that they did not include me, but it was a way to send a message: that I would not put up with their bullshit any longer. I destroyed the statues. Ever since then society has painted me as the enemy. I became what they wanted, a scapegoat. It was easier if society could imagine I was the corrupt one and the rest of the world would be cleansed without me. I paid the price for thinking. I grew more bitter with each passing day. Those bastards could get away with anything, and I nothing. I made more public displays, each time leaving messages behind. I never killed anyone, only destroyed government property. The only thing the news talked about is what a tragedy it was. And yes, when I attacked the police station it did have unforeseen consequences, but change is messy, is it not? I have no voice any longer, action is my only platform. I say I was a hero, once, but in truth, I know not what I was or what I am. I don’t believe those smiling celebrities are heroes. Perhaps heroism is a myth, one I was stupid enough to buy into. Crime is up now, so is unemployment and government debt. Society blames me. Do you?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

**AITA For trying to save the world from the alien.** Calculations related to morality can be hard and they can lead to harder conclusions. If an asteroid was heading in the general direction of earth with a 1% chance of hitting the planet and killing everyone on earth, all 7 billion humans, should we just **hope** it doesn't happen? Or should we dedicate similar resources as we would to a threat that was 100% certain to kill 70 million people, 1% of humanity? I've been called a villain... but my goal is and always had been defending the world. The alien, "superman", it has become clear that if he decided to destroy humanity then he could probably do it in under 24 hours. We have no idea the source of his powers. With the energy levels that seem to be involved he might just explode one day and take half the planet with him. His mind seems similar to that of humans. Do these aliens ever suffer psychotic episodes? Delusions? Dementia? Who knows! It's hard to work out exact numbers on the chances of the alien killing us all but even with the most forgiving estimates the calculations always show at least 1% chance. And so I **must** treat him as I would someone with a 100% chance of killing 70 million people. If you could go back in time and stop Mao, Stalin or Hitler before they killed millions would you not have a moral duty to do so? Even if there was going to be collateral casualties it would still be your moral duty to stop them. Yet the world calls me a villain for trying to kill the alien! AITA?

AITA for… well, let’s just get right into this. I was a hero, once. What they don’t tell you about being the hero is the bureaucracy. I felt I was gifted my power for a reason and it would be wrong of me to waste them, but I could not handle the leash I was placed on. There are all these laws about property damage and image, what jurisdiction we have to not interfere with the police or military forces. Some choose to implement themselves into them, but I could never adhere to that type of community. I don’t work well with people, I hate the spotlight. While other superheroes flashed a smile and signed autographs for adoring fans, I tried my best to retreat into darkness. I never wore my superhero outfit except when necessary. For others, it became their life. I had my own and did not want it consumed by this government monstrosity that keeps us chained. Eventually, they began to notice that they did not have me on as tight a leash and tried to change that. I kept trying to distance myself from their shackles, but they grew ever tighter. One day, I snapped. They were putting up a series of statues for new superheroes to honor them. I did not mind that they did not include me, but it was a way to send a message: that I would not put up with their bullshit any longer. I destroyed the statues. Ever since then society has painted me as the enemy. I became what they wanted, a scapegoat. It was easier if society could imagine I was the corrupt one and the rest of the world would be cleansed without me. I paid the price for thinking. I grew more bitter with each passing day. Those bastards could get away with anything, and I nothing. I made more public displays, each time leaving messages behind. I never killed anyone, only destroyed government property. The only thing the news talked about is what a tragedy it was. And yes, when I attacked the police station it did have unforeseen consequences, but change is messy, is it not? I have no voice any longer, action is my only platform. I say I was a hero, once, but in truth, I know not what I was or what I am. I don’t believe those smiling celebrities are heroes. Perhaps heroism is a myth, one I was stupid enough to buy into. Crime is up now, so is unemployment and government debt. Society blames me. Do you?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

AITA for Trying to Cure Cancer? I thought it was a good thing, but now I'm waiting for my court date because some faceless government agency decided that it was too soon to go to human trials. I'm just trying to use my fortune for good, but it seems the pharmaceutical companies would rather bribe officials than cure diseases. After inheriting my family fortune in my teens, I decided that no one should have to suffer losing love ones to preventable diseases. I began investing in genetic research, nano technology, and bleeding edge research. I founded dozens of companies dedicated to preserving life, and now they're saying they were all fronts for a criminal empire. I mean, sure, I have people that I pay under the table and bypass the red tape, and some others that take a more persuasive approach if that fails, but the drug companies are killing millions with their addictive garbage. Heck, I probably employ more people from underprivileged and marginalized communities than all of my competitors combined. Funny how the company paying their employees generously, including profit sharing from different specialized endeavors, gets hit with tax evasion and racketeering, but the real gangsters are continuing to profit off of the addiction they sell. Sorry, went off a bit there, obviously I'm a bit emotional, I should probably explain what happened. One of my companies developed a radical new genetic treatment that would basically make cancer, and most diseases a thing of the past. It didn't even make any major changes, just switched on a dormant trait lost to evolution. There were minimal side effects, except in very specific cases. Less than one percent of subjects experienced severe physical reactions. My people in the lab assured me they could reduce that even further after continued testing. I called up a few folks trying to get this pushed through the relevant agencies, but I'm sure you can imagine how much money drug companies dump into Washington. I tried offering bribes, then threats, finally I gave up. It was no use, because I now had the IRS snooping around, they were not going to let it go to human trials, let alone the general public. I decided I wasn't going to wait around anymore. I sent a few of my more persuasive employees down to visit the corrupt officials and plead my case. They were met with violence by a masked vigilante that seems to spend more time saving punching poor folks than catching real criminals. Then the police book my employees, and not the violent criminal that assaulted him. One of my guys calls me to let me know the vigilante had threatened me as the next victim of his violence. I was terrified, I don't even own a gun, he's already assaulted several of my employees, and he's threatening me. I booked it to the safe room in my lab. Three feet of concrete and steel, strong enough to withstand most explosions and impossible to break into. I still didn't feel safe, but there wasn't much else I could do. The vigilante broke into my lab, And immediately began threatening jail and violence if I didn't open the door. I tried to reason with him, explain that what I was working on was going to cure mankind. That the people he was taking orders from were the real villains. He ignored me, and began destroying my lab. There are extremely dangerous compounds around it that you don't just smash and burn all willy-nilly. I tried warning him, but he continued calling me a scourge and telling me I'd face justice. I had no choice but to hit the vent fans, the idiot would have blown the whole building to the moon if I hadn't. Unfortunately the compound hadn't been fully tested, plus whatever changes came from combining it with random chemicals in a fit of juvenile violence. The industrial district got dosed with an aerosol cancer cure, unfortunately it also turned 9 out of 10 people into lizard-apes. I offered to figure out a cure, but the vigilante seemed to think I'd use it for ransom instead. Now they're saying I did it on purpose in retaliation for the investigations. They are using my efforts to fast track a life saving compound as evidence. I made the cure, everyone is back to normal, my researchers have valuable data that will only improve the compound, and they still treat me as some sort of bad guy. I don't know, I'm losing it here, AITA?

AITA for… well, let’s just get right into this. I was a hero, once. What they don’t tell you about being the hero is the bureaucracy. I felt I was gifted my power for a reason and it would be wrong of me to waste them, but I could not handle the leash I was placed on. There are all these laws about property damage and image, what jurisdiction we have to not interfere with the police or military forces. Some choose to implement themselves into them, but I could never adhere to that type of community. I don’t work well with people, I hate the spotlight. While other superheroes flashed a smile and signed autographs for adoring fans, I tried my best to retreat into darkness. I never wore my superhero outfit except when necessary. For others, it became their life. I had my own and did not want it consumed by this government monstrosity that keeps us chained. Eventually, they began to notice that they did not have me on as tight a leash and tried to change that. I kept trying to distance myself from their shackles, but they grew ever tighter. One day, I snapped. They were putting up a series of statues for new superheroes to honor them. I did not mind that they did not include me, but it was a way to send a message: that I would not put up with their bullshit any longer. I destroyed the statues. Ever since then society has painted me as the enemy. I became what they wanted, a scapegoat. It was easier if society could imagine I was the corrupt one and the rest of the world would be cleansed without me. I paid the price for thinking. I grew more bitter with each passing day. Those bastards could get away with anything, and I nothing. I made more public displays, each time leaving messages behind. I never killed anyone, only destroyed government property. The only thing the news talked about is what a tragedy it was. And yes, when I attacked the police station it did have unforeseen consequences, but change is messy, is it not? I have no voice any longer, action is my only platform. I say I was a hero, once, but in truth, I know not what I was or what I am. I don’t believe those smiling celebrities are heroes. Perhaps heroism is a myth, one I was stupid enough to buy into. Crime is up now, so is unemployment and government debt. Society blames me. Do you?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

AITA for Trying to Cure Cancer? I thought it was a good thing, but now I'm waiting for my court date because some faceless government agency decided that it was too soon to go to human trials. I'm just trying to use my fortune for good, but it seems the pharmaceutical companies would rather bribe officials than cure diseases. After inheriting my family fortune in my teens, I decided that no one should have to suffer losing love ones to preventable diseases. I began investing in genetic research, nano technology, and bleeding edge research. I founded dozens of companies dedicated to preserving life, and now they're saying they were all fronts for a criminal empire. I mean, sure, I have people that I pay under the table and bypass the red tape, and some others that take a more persuasive approach if that fails, but the drug companies are killing millions with their addictive garbage. Heck, I probably employ more people from underprivileged and marginalized communities than all of my competitors combined. Funny how the company paying their employees generously, including profit sharing from different specialized endeavors, gets hit with tax evasion and racketeering, but the real gangsters are continuing to profit off of the addiction they sell. Sorry, went off a bit there, obviously I'm a bit emotional, I should probably explain what happened. One of my companies developed a radical new genetic treatment that would basically make cancer, and most diseases a thing of the past. It didn't even make any major changes, just switched on a dormant trait lost to evolution. There were minimal side effects, except in very specific cases. Less than one percent of subjects experienced severe physical reactions. My people in the lab assured me they could reduce that even further after continued testing. I called up a few folks trying to get this pushed through the relevant agencies, but I'm sure you can imagine how much money drug companies dump into Washington. I tried offering bribes, then threats, finally I gave up. It was no use, because I now had the IRS snooping around, they were not going to let it go to human trials, let alone the general public. I decided I wasn't going to wait around anymore. I sent a few of my more persuasive employees down to visit the corrupt officials and plead my case. They were met with violence by a masked vigilante that seems to spend more time saving punching poor folks than catching real criminals. Then the police book my employees, and not the violent criminal that assaulted him. One of my guys calls me to let me know the vigilante had threatened me as the next victim of his violence. I was terrified, I don't even own a gun, he's already assaulted several of my employees, and he's threatening me. I booked it to the safe room in my lab. Three feet of concrete and steel, strong enough to withstand most explosions and impossible to break into. I still didn't feel safe, but there wasn't much else I could do. The vigilante broke into my lab, And immediately began threatening jail and violence if I didn't open the door. I tried to reason with him, explain that what I was working on was going to cure mankind. That the people he was taking orders from were the real villains. He ignored me, and began destroying my lab. There are extremely dangerous compounds around it that you don't just smash and burn all willy-nilly. I tried warning him, but he continued calling me a scourge and telling me I'd face justice. I had no choice but to hit the vent fans, the idiot would have blown the whole building to the moon if I hadn't. Unfortunately the compound hadn't been fully tested, plus whatever changes came from combining it with random chemicals in a fit of juvenile violence. The industrial district got dosed with an aerosol cancer cure, unfortunately it also turned 9 out of 10 people into lizard-apes. I offered to figure out a cure, but the vigilante seemed to think I'd use it for ransom instead. Now they're saying I did it on purpose in retaliation for the investigations. They are using my efforts to fast track a life saving compound as evidence. I made the cure, everyone is back to normal, my researchers have valuable data that will only improve the compound, and they still treat me as some sort of bad guy. I don't know, I'm losing it here, AITA?

**AITA For trying to save the world from the alien.** Calculations related to morality can be hard and they can lead to harder conclusions. If an asteroid was heading in the general direction of earth with a 1% chance of hitting the planet and killing everyone on earth, all 7 billion humans, should we just **hope** it doesn't happen? Or should we dedicate similar resources as we would to a threat that was 100% certain to kill 70 million people, 1% of humanity? I've been called a villain... but my goal is and always had been defending the world. The alien, "superman", it has become clear that if he decided to destroy humanity then he could probably do it in under 24 hours. We have no idea the source of his powers. With the energy levels that seem to be involved he might just explode one day and take half the planet with him. His mind seems similar to that of humans. Do these aliens ever suffer psychotic episodes? Delusions? Dementia? Who knows! It's hard to work out exact numbers on the chances of the alien killing us all but even with the most forgiving estimates the calculations always show at least 1% chance. And so I **must** treat him as I would someone with a 100% chance of killing 70 million people. If you could go back in time and stop Mao, Stalin or Hitler before they killed millions would you not have a moral duty to do so? Even if there was going to be collateral casualties it would still be your moral duty to stop them. Yet the world calls me a villain for trying to kill the alien! AITA?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

AITA for Trying to Cure Cancer? I thought it was a good thing, but now I'm waiting for my court date because some faceless government agency decided that it was too soon to go to human trials. I'm just trying to use my fortune for good, but it seems the pharmaceutical companies would rather bribe officials than cure diseases. After inheriting my family fortune in my teens, I decided that no one should have to suffer losing love ones to preventable diseases. I began investing in genetic research, nano technology, and bleeding edge research. I founded dozens of companies dedicated to preserving life, and now they're saying they were all fronts for a criminal empire. I mean, sure, I have people that I pay under the table and bypass the red tape, and some others that take a more persuasive approach if that fails, but the drug companies are killing millions with their addictive garbage. Heck, I probably employ more people from underprivileged and marginalized communities than all of my competitors combined. Funny how the company paying their employees generously, including profit sharing from different specialized endeavors, gets hit with tax evasion and racketeering, but the real gangsters are continuing to profit off of the addiction they sell. Sorry, went off a bit there, obviously I'm a bit emotional, I should probably explain what happened. One of my companies developed a radical new genetic treatment that would basically make cancer, and most diseases a thing of the past. It didn't even make any major changes, just switched on a dormant trait lost to evolution. There were minimal side effects, except in very specific cases. Less than one percent of subjects experienced severe physical reactions. My people in the lab assured me they could reduce that even further after continued testing. I called up a few folks trying to get this pushed through the relevant agencies, but I'm sure you can imagine how much money drug companies dump into Washington. I tried offering bribes, then threats, finally I gave up. It was no use, because I now had the IRS snooping around, they were not going to let it go to human trials, let alone the general public. I decided I wasn't going to wait around anymore. I sent a few of my more persuasive employees down to visit the corrupt officials and plead my case. They were met with violence by a masked vigilante that seems to spend more time saving punching poor folks than catching real criminals. Then the police book my employees, and not the violent criminal that assaulted him. One of my guys calls me to let me know the vigilante had threatened me as the next victim of his violence. I was terrified, I don't even own a gun, he's already assaulted several of my employees, and he's threatening me. I booked it to the safe room in my lab. Three feet of concrete and steel, strong enough to withstand most explosions and impossible to break into. I still didn't feel safe, but there wasn't much else I could do. The vigilante broke into my lab, And immediately began threatening jail and violence if I didn't open the door. I tried to reason with him, explain that what I was working on was going to cure mankind. That the people he was taking orders from were the real villains. He ignored me, and began destroying my lab. There are extremely dangerous compounds around it that you don't just smash and burn all willy-nilly. I tried warning him, but he continued calling me a scourge and telling me I'd face justice. I had no choice but to hit the vent fans, the idiot would have blown the whole building to the moon if I hadn't. Unfortunately the compound hadn't been fully tested, plus whatever changes came from combining it with random chemicals in a fit of juvenile violence. The industrial district got dosed with an aerosol cancer cure, unfortunately it also turned 9 out of 10 people into lizard-apes. I offered to figure out a cure, but the vigilante seemed to think I'd use it for ransom instead. Now they're saying I did it on purpose in retaliation for the investigations. They are using my efforts to fast track a life saving compound as evidence. I made the cure, everyone is back to normal, my researchers have valuable data that will only improve the compound, and they still treat me as some sort of bad guy. I don't know, I'm losing it here, AITA?

AITA for trying to help a woman get out of an abusive relationship? So basically I have this work rival and he shows all the signs of being an abuser. He punches holes in walls, he is very full of himself, he seems so unfeeling I'd say like a brick wall, but honestly more like titanium. And he has this crazy death stare he can give sometimes. Anyway, due to work out personal lives are unfortunately also intertwined. After doing some thinking I decided to pick up his girlfriend for some tea and try to really change her mind about her relationship with him. Then waddaya know, this dude literally busts my door down (after assaulting my groundskeepers!) And rushes her away before she would even have a chance to protest. Classic abusive relationship stuff. Yet for some reason most of the people we know always take his side on things AITA?

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

AITA for Trying to Cure Cancer? I thought it was a good thing, but now I'm waiting for my court date because some faceless government agency decided that it was too soon to go to human trials. I'm just trying to use my fortune for good, but it seems the pharmaceutical companies would rather bribe officials than cure diseases. After inheriting my family fortune in my teens, I decided that no one should have to suffer losing love ones to preventable diseases. I began investing in genetic research, nano technology, and bleeding edge research. I founded dozens of companies dedicated to preserving life, and now they're saying they were all fronts for a criminal empire. I mean, sure, I have people that I pay under the table and bypass the red tape, and some others that take a more persuasive approach if that fails, but the drug companies are killing millions with their addictive garbage. Heck, I probably employ more people from underprivileged and marginalized communities than all of my competitors combined. Funny how the company paying their employees generously, including profit sharing from different specialized endeavors, gets hit with tax evasion and racketeering, but the real gangsters are continuing to profit off of the addiction they sell. Sorry, went off a bit there, obviously I'm a bit emotional, I should probably explain what happened. One of my companies developed a radical new genetic treatment that would basically make cancer, and most diseases a thing of the past. It didn't even make any major changes, just switched on a dormant trait lost to evolution. There were minimal side effects, except in very specific cases. Less than one percent of subjects experienced severe physical reactions. My people in the lab assured me they could reduce that even further after continued testing. I called up a few folks trying to get this pushed through the relevant agencies, but I'm sure you can imagine how much money drug companies dump into Washington. I tried offering bribes, then threats, finally I gave up. It was no use, because I now had the IRS snooping around, they were not going to let it go to human trials, let alone the general public. I decided I wasn't going to wait around anymore. I sent a few of my more persuasive employees down to visit the corrupt officials and plead my case. They were met with violence by a masked vigilante that seems to spend more time saving punching poor folks than catching real criminals. Then the police book my employees, and not the violent criminal that assaulted him. One of my guys calls me to let me know the vigilante had threatened me as the next victim of his violence. I was terrified, I don't even own a gun, he's already assaulted several of my employees, and he's threatening me. I booked it to the safe room in my lab. Three feet of concrete and steel, strong enough to withstand most explosions and impossible to break into. I still didn't feel safe, but there wasn't much else I could do. The vigilante broke into my lab, And immediately began threatening jail and violence if I didn't open the door. I tried to reason with him, explain that what I was working on was going to cure mankind. That the people he was taking orders from were the real villains. He ignored me, and began destroying my lab. There are extremely dangerous compounds around it that you don't just smash and burn all willy-nilly. I tried warning him, but he continued calling me a scourge and telling me I'd face justice. I had no choice but to hit the vent fans, the idiot would have blown the whole building to the moon if I hadn't. Unfortunately the compound hadn't been fully tested, plus whatever changes came from combining it with random chemicals in a fit of juvenile violence. The industrial district got dosed with an aerosol cancer cure, unfortunately it also turned 9 out of 10 people into lizard-apes. I offered to figure out a cure, but the vigilante seemed to think I'd use it for ransom instead. Now they're saying I did it on purpose in retaliation for the investigations. They are using my efforts to fast track a life saving compound as evidence. I made the cure, everyone is back to normal, my researchers have valuable data that will only improve the compound, and they still treat me as some sort of bad guy. I don't know, I'm losing it here, AITA?

AITA for causing a riot, declaring martial law, destroying a water dam, and drowning a City. Please read the full post before making a judgment. I can predict Domino effects(As in because of a x will happen in a couple of days) with this ability I somewhat can see the future. My ability also works if I see someone else do something. This happened a few months ago while I was at the park. I had noticed a large truck carrying chemicals going down the road. I had seen them in the city several times and paid them no mind. however, today I use my ability on them out of curiosity. I was shocked to find out. A politician had taken a bribe from a company to allow them to dump their chemicals in the landfill near the city. The company had sent all of the chemical waste from all their factories in the surrounding states to this landfill. The chemical waste had collected in an underground pocket. This pocket continued to expand due to the gas being released from the chemicals. Within one year from that day, the pressure from the gases would have caused an explosion that would shake the foundation of the city. After the first explosion, the chemicals and gases would be released into the subway tunnels. The chemicals would then be ignited by the Sparks of a broken light. This in turn will create a second explosion that will cause many buildings to collapse and The Inferno will try its best to escape the underground network. Over 96% of the population of the city will die within the first two hours. the city will continue to be in Flames for several years due to the chemicals seeping into the soil. After witnessing this I panicked and tried my best to look for any way to prevent it. All avenues involving bureaucracy ended up taking too long and all attempts to convince the public was met with skepticism and me being seen as a crazy person. The only solution that I can come up with that seemed to work was to destroy this city in a controlled way. I drugged many criminals as I broke them out of prison and released them into the city causing many people to flee the city in fear. I destroyed many buildings with bombs in a way that would not affect the chemical waste. I created a small militia group that forced the government into declaring martial law, I then had them force people to leave their homes by any means necessary. Before any superheroes or the military got involved I set up fuses on the dam and set them off causing a massive flood drowning the city. Most of the population had fled the City by now. The chemicals will be diluted by the water preventing the explosions. The last thing I did was watch as the CEO, board of directors, and the politician drowned in the underground bunker that I tricked them into hiding in. I think I might be the asshole because even though they would be dead if I did nothing. many of the people from the city have lost their jobs and homes.

[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing.

​ User: NOTASHES132 Edit: Sorry for the long post, had a lot to get off my chest. Edit Edit: Wow okay thought I would get more measured responses from my favorite community. AITA for Blowing up HALF the moon? Please try to understand context, and remember, it was only HALF the moon. I could have blown up the whole thing, I have tons of missiles, but instead I only blew up half and I think that should speak for itself, but let me explain the story in case you STILL need to be convinced. So I was minding my own business doing some banking when I wanted to make a withdrawal that was barely a couple million over the account limit. When the woman said no I pulled out my death ray because I was heated and I'd missed my coffee that morning. Keep in mind, I didn't SHOOT the death ray, I just pointed it at her, my finger wasn't even on the trigger the whole time. Once I convinced her, she started loading the money I wanted in bags and begging me to let her go home to her wife and kids, so people started to get angry with me. It was so unfair! I was barely pointing the death ray at her at that point, she was just pity fishing in broad daylight to try to get the other innocent customers on her side. A move right from the narcissists' playbook. BUT not everyone in the bank had the full story, so this big guy from behind me in line takes a swing at me. I was able to dodge it (Thanks to my ninja training) so he technically didn't hit me first but he DID try. That man had tried for a sucker punch so I reasonably went to shoot him with the death ray as a classic single escalation response. Of course, so nosy security guard with a power trip won't let a couple of people figure things out, so he tries to tackle me just as I'm pulling the trigger. Next thing I know, I missed the assaulter and half the front door of the bank is gone. Keep in mind that property damage isn't MY fault, I would have just shot the VIOLENT man trying to ASSASULT me. So now the police are coming, but ACAB right? So I grab the money and take off in my hover board. Admittedly I'm embarrassed about how the whole thing went down but at that point I just wanted to get home. Boom! The pigs start shooting at me because they don't have any trigger discipline in this country and one of them hit my engines. So now I'm spiraling out of control in the middle of the air when suddenly I see that the nosy and boisterous (speaking of narcissists) Victorya is suddenly in the air beside me. She's trying to make quips about my situation instead of SAVING me which is her job. So once I get things a little more stable I fire my death ray at her because she won't die from it anyway, but get this, she gets OUT OF THE WAY and I hit an office building. Now people are saying that I'm a murderer (BTW manslaughter is a thing look it up) and they aren't even consdiering that it was her fault for getting out of the way. Once the glass stops falling she comes right at me so I engage the ATMOS protocol. Big shout out to my buddy Jared in comms who told me that we'd only need 50% to get the job done, and even though I was annoyed I took his advice for a measured response. So we fire HALF of the missiles that we had in storage for Victoya and she sees them coming so she flies away. I crash into the ground so I only see the rest from the street, but she goes flying around, dragging missiles all over the city instead of just letting them hit her like a real hero would. Victorya (Have I told you that she's punched me a bunch of times before?) flies up into the upper atmosphere which OF COURSE is bad for the missiles targeting systems. She actually ends up leading them PAST the satellite that controls them and KEEP IN MIND I had no control over the missiles once she was in the upper atmosphere. So she gets out of the way, the missiles keep going and it turns out they were headed RIGHT for the moon. Suddenly people are gasping my name on the news like four hours later when ONLY HALF the moon blows up because other people antagonized me and I was acted in self defense. Now that you know the whole story it's pretty obvious that NTA, but I already typed this all out so you can decide. ​ Actual Edit: Check out /r/Jacksonwrites for more things that are equally domb, but less AITA formatted. Also some minior typo correction.

AITA for causing a riot, declaring martial law, destroying a water dam, and drowning a City. Please read the full post before making a judgment. I can predict Domino effects(As in because of a x will happen in a couple of days) with this ability I somewhat can see the future. My ability also works if I see someone else do something. This happened a few months ago while I was at the park. I had noticed a large truck carrying chemicals going down the road. I had seen them in the city several times and paid them no mind. however, today I use my ability on them out of curiosity. I was shocked to find out. A politician had taken a bribe from a company to allow them to dump their chemicals in the landfill near the city. The company had sent all of the chemical waste from all their factories in the surrounding states to this landfill. The chemical waste had collected in an underground pocket. This pocket continued to expand due to the gas being released from the chemicals. Within one year from that day, the pressure from the gases would have caused an explosion that would shake the foundation of the city. After the first explosion, the chemicals and gases would be released into the subway tunnels. The chemicals would then be ignited by the Sparks of a broken light. This in turn will create a second explosion that will cause many buildings to collapse and The Inferno will try its best to escape the underground network. Over 96% of the population of the city will die within the first two hours. the city will continue to be in Flames for several years due to the chemicals seeping into the soil. After witnessing this I panicked and tried my best to look for any way to prevent it. All avenues involving bureaucracy ended up taking too long and all attempts to convince the public was met with skepticism and me being seen as a crazy person. The only solution that I can come up with that seemed to work was to destroy this city in a controlled way. I drugged many criminals as I broke them out of prison and released them into the city causing many people to flee the city in fear. I destroyed many buildings with bombs in a way that would not affect the chemical waste. I created a small militia group that forced the government into declaring martial law, I then had them force people to leave their homes by any means necessary. Before any superheroes or the military got involved I set up fuses on the dam and set them off causing a massive flood drowning the city. Most of the population had fled the City by now. The chemicals will be diluted by the water preventing the explosions. The last thing I did was watch as the CEO, board of directors, and the politician drowned in the underground bunker that I tricked them into hiding in. I think I might be the asshole because even though they would be dead if I did nothing. many of the people from the city have lost their jobs and homes.

[WP]You stumble across a magical bookstore deep in an enchanted forest, full of thousands of unmarked, unwritten books, taking a book off the shelf writes the book to whatever you most want to read.

Spurn the Library. If you see its doors, deep in the enchanted forest, turn away immediately. Do not enter. It does not help to destroy the doors. Fire slides harmlessly off their surface. An axe can turn the door to rubble, but the door will always appear again, later. At first sight, that's all it ever is. A door. No attached building. You can walk around the door, without ever leaving the forest. If you get too close, the doorknocker will notice you. It will invite you in. If you hear this invitation, it may already be too late. Split up, flee in different directions, and pray that you are not the one that the door elects to follow. If, in running from the door, you some across the door again in a different place, then it is too late for you. There is no escape. The door is never in the same place twice. But it will pursue prey. When the door opens, you can see a vast library beyond it. Book after book after book, endless shelves reaching to the sky. (It is too late. You are effectively already dead). None of the books are labelled. None have names printed on the spine. (Nothing will be found of you but a shell - breathing, but mindless. If even that much is left). If you take a book from the shelf - any book - it will change in your hands. It will be exactly that book which you most wish to read. (Your family will never see you again. This is no longer important - you want to read the book more than you want to see your family.) One person, one person only, has ever escaped from the library. (There are no guards. No guards are needed. No-one ever wants to leave.) Everyone else finds the book that they most want to read. And they read the book, even as the library pulls their mind out through their eyes, draining them of all they once knew and thought. (There may have been guards once. If so, the Library ate them too). If it weren't for Thog The Illiterate, we wouldn't know even as little as we do about the Library. (And now that you know about the Library, the Library knows about you. Don't look at the door that's just appeared behind you...)

Running Away from Richard I found myself walking farther into the woods than I ever have before. Anger was turning in my gut as I continued farther and farther from my home, deep into the wood. The father I walked the more my stomach swirled in frustration. Before I even had a moment to breath, the twisting and turning in my abdomen started to climb. I could feel the anger moving up my esophagus and accumulating in the back of my throat. As attempted to swallow my feelings, my efforts only began to mutate the dark and disdainful emotion into something much worse... I remembered what Richard had said to me and what he had done. It was painful even to think about. I felt the weight in my throat begin to round into a lump. Just as the feeling in my throat was about to manifest itself into the physical realm in the form of uncontrollable tears, I saw a bright flash followed by the twinkle of thousands of sparkles falling from the sky. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The sparkles started to gather into a mass of light. Right at the moment the bright light began to sting my eyes; the glow began to fade. Once the sparkling glimmer dissolved, standing in front of me was a bright red door. There were no walls nor a structure attached, just a door standing alone. I was so bewildered by the sight, I had nearly forgotten about Richard and his misleading promises of love and loyalty. The empty serenade of his lies only an echo in the distance of my present thought. I approached the door with a rather thoughtless and adventurous ambition to qualm my curiosity. I opened the door and a waft of the fragrant room poured out from the opposing side of the door. It was a comforting scent. The smell of leather bound paper crafted from the remnants of an old oak tree. It was so glamorously enchanting. What appeared to be nothing but an empty wood with the random positioning of a singular door standing alone was a portal to the only true realm of endless possibility. A bookstore! I knew in that moment that I was no longer a victim of the memory of Richard and his vacant vows... he gave me up. An old woman seemed to materialize out of nowhere. She looked me over and said, "I can see you have been betrayed... let down in some way. Someone has hurt you?" She pointed to the shelf and said, "These... These are special books. They are written with the magic of the seer's blood. You can only see what you want to see and the book will lie to you if you allow it too. You may get hurt in the process." She gestured for me to take one. I was hesitant at first, but then I remembered Richard. My whole world had been a lie. What could this book possibly say that would hurt me? Surely it couldn't be more painful than finding out about Richard's corrupt and swindling ways. The title of the book slowly melted into the leather cover "Strangers to Love" I opened the book. As I rolled my fingers across the binding to turn the page, Richard's words appeared vividly across the page right before my eyes! The page read: You know the rules and so do I... I slammed the book shut! the old woman began to cackle and screamed, "It is too late! You saw what you wanted to see a full commitment is what! and now his words will forever ring in your ears!" With a gust of wind I was blown back against the bookshelf unable to close my eyes. The words flew off the page and swirled through the air in front of me. Those painful lies forever embedded into my very soul... He told me his feelings... he tried to make me understand... but a feeling is not synonymous with the truth! At this moment my thoughts were interrupted with the echo of his limerick... Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Oh Richard... why must you continue to torment me??? ​ It will never be the end... because he cannot give up.

[WP] You found it touching when your girlfriend vowed to help you with your inner demons, even if she didn't know that they were quite literal. Then she pulls out a stack of candles and a flask of holy water- giving you a daring smile.

Seeing the holy water caused a visceral reaction to build up inside me. A clawing pressure at the front of my brain, anxiety prickling like barbed wire at my temples. I could feel the cold, clammy sweat coating my hands, the moisture giving way to sandpaper dryness in my mouth. The air in the room felt like it changed somehow, becoming thicker; heavier. My lungs struggled with the labour of each breath, the sudden surge of adrenaline causing my heart to race, my guts to lurch with nausea. "Ah good," Said Shana. "They're scared!" "I have to go, Sha," I stammered. "I don't feel well at all." "You're not going anywhere you vile, body-squatting bastards!" Shana said, looking through me. "You're all staying right here." "I do not give you permission to leave." "I do not give you permission to move without my say so." "I do not give you permission to speak unless you are spoken to". The tone in her voice was authoritative, every word had weight, every word was communicated not just with her mouth, but with her eyes. I had never seen or heard her behave this way before. The daring smile was long gone. Now she was deadly serious and clearly in control. My head began to ache, acid reflux burnt its way slowly up my oesophagus. I could not move. I couldn't speak. My ears rang with high pitched tones. Fear was all I knew in that moment. I felt locked in. Nothing looked or felt real. What had she done to me? How was this happening? Who was she really? "Now." Shana said sharply. "I think there are three of you in there. I want you to sit down in that chair." she motioned to the cracked leather armchair that resided in the corner of her bedroom. "Sit and then each of you identify yourselves." I began to do exactly as instructed. I had no choice. I was no longer the one in control. For the first time ever I could actually feel the others that had been living with me for so much of my life. I felt like myself and three others were all occupying the same space. Like we were layered over one another like decades of wallpaper over wallpaper. Shana lit three candles and placed them into an ornately carved holder. She picked up the holy water and popped the lid off the flask. We sat down in the armchair. Shana was looking to the right side of my head, as if something or someone were sitting upon my shoulder. A voice began to speak. "I am the smell of sulphur, the blood that pulses from the slit wrist. I am the shadows in the hall, the gallows and the fall. I am everywhere, you are naive to think I will leave. You are but a child, so pathetic, so." "Enough!" Shana cut them off. "You!" she pointed to my left, another voice began to speak. "I am the chains around your throat, the panic as you drown. I am boil and cyst, ulcer and wart. I am the smell of gangrene, the black of necrosis, the purple spectrum of lividity. When I am once again able to move I will cut." "Enough!" Shana moved her fingers across her lips as if closing a zipper. "Now you!" She said pointing slightly above me. A weak voice began to talk. "I'm Rachel. For the last 15 years I have been a prisoner in my own body. The person you think is your girlfriend is not who they say they are. Please hel." Shana snapped her fingers at me directly. "Talk!" She ordered. I began to speak. I had no choice. She was so powerful. I can't believe I didn't see it before. "I am the famine that comes after the drought. I am the ash that blows off of burnt flesh. I am the eggs of the corpse fly, the lies of the greedy politician. I will never let you leave, Shana. You belong to." "Enough!" Shana immediately doused the body in holy water, grabbed a candle and extinguished it on the forehead. The pain was instant and agonizing. The mouth began to scream. My scream mixed with the screams of others. Another candle was extinguished on the forehead. The taste of blood and honey rose up in the throat. Shana began to chant blessings of ancient filth, the holy water began to degrade the boundaries of my form. Putrid words of hope and healing pissed from her lips tearing holes in my ether. Untethering me from the anchor points of Rachel's being. The body began to shake. The mouth continued to scream. The flame of the final candle burnt the forehead, hot wax splashing over the face. The pain bore through me prising me apart from the body, pulling me back into the space between. The other two body-squatters were pulled forth too. Rachel slumped over, seemingly lifeless in the chair. Shana continued her assault of water and words. Ancient words of purity and protection. Words of agony to me and the other two beings writhing at her feet. She emptied the flask of water upon us and continued her savage, sustained, and unrelenting attack. Breaking us down until we were no longer connected to anything. Until we were stripped of the power that we'd wielded for centuries. Until we were nothing. Shana slowly calmed. Out of breath and exhausted, she looked down at us and began to speak in English again. Eyes wide. Fists clenched tight. "I am the hatred that poisons the hearts of a nation. I am the miscarriage and the still birth. I am the destruction of a people, the broken bodies in the shallow grave. I am the ambush in the dark. The traitor that betrays you while you sleep. I am the bitter taste of your destruction, and Rachel is mine." "WE have work to do!" The edges of Shana's being became diffuse. Her form turned translucent, shifting into vapour and ectoplasm. Rachel's eyes suddenly snapped open. She stood up from the armchair and bent down next to us. We lay helpless on the floor. Catatonic with fear. "No hard feelings eh? I can't have you lot stinking up the place whilst I'm in here. I have actual proper demon work to do." She began to chant again. Chant ancient words of evil. Ancient words that kill. Ancient words that kill body-squatters like me.

"Well, stun me with hickeys - were you always this knowledgeable in demons, Thia?" You can't help but say awestruck by her quick-witted silent actions. For the first time in a long short while, she speaks and her voice is full of glee as she says: "Always, except I couldn't tell you because it's a part of the whole gimmick. 'Thy cannot help those who has not asked for help.' It's a weirder vow from 'Thy shall not do any harm.' but it makes sense, in a way." You chuckle at that and shake your head in fondness of your girlfriend's entire demeanor, far too giddy for what she's about to do next. "...I do love you calling it a gimmick, like it's not saving my ass or anything." "Aw, you know what I mean!" She pouts and closes her book sharply, a sharp intake of wind sends the candles flickering wide to the left and she looks down eyes wide and looks back up at you with a quiet: "Oops." "Uh." Suddenly, you're not feeling so safe where you are right now. "What does that mean?" A small grumbling sound sends your entire living room *shaking*. "I, closed that book too hard." Thia bites out her words, her face scrunched up in fear. "Sorry Gan." "Wait, hold on - *what does that mean?*" A sense of panic seeps into your voice now, breaking a bit at the way she said it with such sincere sadness. "She means -" A far too familiar voice says, an icy breath on your neck. "She's made a mistake, which means -" You swivel away, facing the source of the voice and pale. "Frao. Come on. Let's not..." " - I. Win." It grins at you, half-assed open face smiling wide in its asymmetry as the stench of rot and mould assaults your nostrils. You gag. "Fuck. No." You try to summon your inferno gauntlet but it doesn't appear no matter how hard you will it to manifest. "What the fuck." "Silly, Silly Gan." It hisses, clawed hands sinking deep into your chest as you feel its coldness spread into you. "A fool to think - I never knew who she was." "...I didn't even..." You gasp, as your hands wrap around one of its pointy wrists with flaking dried flesh and crumbling skin trying to dislodge it from your body. "...know she could..." "...do this until recently, you fuck!" You grit as your inferno gauntlet finally fucking works, burning right through its thin distorted body that resembles less of a human and more of a pile of Frankenstein-like degloved corpses. But it's too late, you realise as your inferno gauntlet spreads from your hands to your arms and... You look back to where Thia was recently, and you see she's still there - except... Her skin - it's flaking and without a doubt now, your stomach sinks as she walks closer to you, her hair falling off, eyes, skin, flesh dissolving in front of you before all that's left is a pile of rotting corpses disassembled and reassembled poorly, just like - It cackles as it laughs and laughs as it takes your inferno gauntlet into its book. "And Gan - again, I'm sorry. So. So, sorry you fell for me! Hahahaha!" It cackles and you - You vanish. . ....idk man as I write the words takes me to weird directions sometimes this was mean to be cute and fluffy and lighthearted but became ye...

[WP] You found it touching when your girlfriend vowed to help you with your inner demons, even if she didn't know that they were quite literal. Then she pulls out a stack of candles and a flask of holy water- giving you a daring smile.

*“Oi, Sara. Let’s make a deal?”* A voice of a demon echoed in Sara’s mind. *“It’s always the demons rambling in my mind. This has been happening since I was a child.”* Sara thought with an exasperated sigh as another demon offers up another deal, taking a small bite of the dinner that her girlfriend Lindsay made, her special lasagna. “Are you feeling okay?” Lindsay looks a little worried. “You’ve been spacing out more” “Uhm… Yes, just some inner demons, don’t worry…” Sara tries to give a reassuring smile. “It’s quite normal for me” “Normal?” Lindsay tilted her head. “Nah, that’s not normal.” “I know… I usually push people away” Sara looked down at her plate. “I can leave…” “Wait… No!” Lindsay looked panicked. “I am going to help you!” Lindsay looked at her plate of food and to the side as if she was about to run off. “Let’s finish dinner up first” ___________________________ “Ah… yes, I always forget to eat.” Lindsay laughs with a smile and takes a bit of food. After Sara and Lindsay finished dinner, while Sara is washing the dishes. Lindsay started to carefully layout ritual material and put on some blue rubber gloves often worn by doctors in the living room. “I am done the dishes!” Sara entered the living room. As she entered the living room, the room is transformed into a ritual room filled with occult symbols, a magic circle, candles, a set of cooking knives, a portable stove, and several spices. The portable stove is lit and boiling She sees Lindsay cutting some potatoes and humming to herself, pouring them into the pot. “Uhm….” Sara started to back away from the room. “Hey, Sara.” Lindsay walked toward Sara with some candles with a glowing smile. “You should have mentioned you had inner demons. I would have prepared a grander feast.” “You’re not going to eat me?” “Uhm… Why would I eat you? You are too precious to me.” Lindsay looked a little confused. “We are going to feast on demons!” “Why were you wearing doctor gloves?” “Demons are a messy business, Come on, I am so hungry…” *“Didn’t we already eat?”* Sara thought and gives a nod, “Well, maybe let’s try. But you try to eat me…” “Don’t you trust me?” Lindsay looked at Sara with pleading eyes “I’ll make a deal with one of the demons, and have you taken to the abyss.” Lindsay hands Sara a candle and starts to chant in words long forgotten, sounding alien, and utterly foreign. Holding a knife in her left hand. She places her hand on my forehead and started grabbing a multitude of demons. Eyeballs, wings, moving squirming in her hands. Lindsay looked exhilarated and overjoyed at her new haul. She stabbed the mix of demons and put them on the chopping board. “… I finally feel at peace… I can’t thank you enough.” Sara gives a tired sigh. “What are you?” “Well, I am a demon who eats demons.” Lindsay smiled as she takes a knife and stabbed down on the mix of demons. “This magic knife should be able to keep them in place.” “A demon? But do you need a human host?” “Oh those ones who torment humans, and semi-possess them are low-level demons… Please I gotta focus on storing these demons for later consumption and cooking this new feast.” Lindsay starts prepping a meal of demon-meat potato stew. Sara sat down tired of the ritual, she goes to close her eyes to sleep. _______________ Once the meal has been cooked, Lindsay nudged Sara to wake up and handed her a bowl. Lindsay sat in front of Sara with an expected look. “Can humans eat this?” Sara looked at the bowl. “Yup! I feed it to some of the human friend groups I have” Lindsay took her bowl and started eating. Sara took a bite, and this demon meat is utterly delicious. “This is good…” “This is only a temporary solution, but...” Lindsay gave a demonic smile. “If you can lure demons into your mind, I would like to cook and eat them, for you… I’ll give you the peace of mind that you’ve always wanted.” “Deal”

"Well, stun me with hickeys - were you always this knowledgeable in demons, Thia?" You can't help but say awestruck by her quick-witted silent actions. For the first time in a long short while, she speaks and her voice is full of glee as she says: "Always, except I couldn't tell you because it's a part of the whole gimmick. 'Thy cannot help those who has not asked for help.' It's a weirder vow from 'Thy shall not do any harm.' but it makes sense, in a way." You chuckle at that and shake your head in fondness of your girlfriend's entire demeanor, far too giddy for what she's about to do next. "...I do love you calling it a gimmick, like it's not saving my ass or anything." "Aw, you know what I mean!" She pouts and closes her book sharply, a sharp intake of wind sends the candles flickering wide to the left and she looks down eyes wide and looks back up at you with a quiet: "Oops." "Uh." Suddenly, you're not feeling so safe where you are right now. "What does that mean?" A small grumbling sound sends your entire living room *shaking*. "I, closed that book too hard." Thia bites out her words, her face scrunched up in fear. "Sorry Gan." "Wait, hold on - *what does that mean?*" A sense of panic seeps into your voice now, breaking a bit at the way she said it with such sincere sadness. "She means -" A far too familiar voice says, an icy breath on your neck. "She's made a mistake, which means -" You swivel away, facing the source of the voice and pale. "Frao. Come on. Let's not..." " - I. Win." It grins at you, half-assed open face smiling wide in its asymmetry as the stench of rot and mould assaults your nostrils. You gag. "Fuck. No." You try to summon your inferno gauntlet but it doesn't appear no matter how hard you will it to manifest. "What the fuck." "Silly, Silly Gan." It hisses, clawed hands sinking deep into your chest as you feel its coldness spread into you. "A fool to think - I never knew who she was." "...I didn't even..." You gasp, as your hands wrap around one of its pointy wrists with flaking dried flesh and crumbling skin trying to dislodge it from your body. "...know she could..." "...do this until recently, you fuck!" You grit as your inferno gauntlet finally fucking works, burning right through its thin distorted body that resembles less of a human and more of a pile of Frankenstein-like degloved corpses. But it's too late, you realise as your inferno gauntlet spreads from your hands to your arms and... You look back to where Thia was recently, and you see she's still there - except... Her skin - it's flaking and without a doubt now, your stomach sinks as she walks closer to you, her hair falling off, eyes, skin, flesh dissolving in front of you before all that's left is a pile of rotting corpses disassembled and reassembled poorly, just like - It cackles as it laughs and laughs as it takes your inferno gauntlet into its book. "And Gan - again, I'm sorry. So. So, sorry you fell for me! Hahahaha!" It cackles and you - You vanish. . ....idk man as I write the words takes me to weird directions sometimes this was mean to be cute and fluffy and lighthearted but became ye...

[WP] You found it touching when your girlfriend vowed to help you with your inner demons, even if she didn't know that they were quite literal. Then she pulls out a stack of candles and a flask of holy water- giving you a daring smile.

"You knew?!" I exclaimed. "How did you even find out?" Trish laughed as she began to place the candles at key locations around the room. *"How?* Has nobody else you've been with mentioned that you're a contortionist in your sleep? Like seriously, you could probably work for cirque du soleil if you could somehow arrange to always be napping at their shows." Oh. I did generally wake up pretty sore but I'd always assumed it was just my shitty mattress. As to how it hadn't been brought to my attention already, my previous relationships had all been short and sweet. By which I mean 'tinder hookups that I didn't even invite to my house, let alone to stay for an entire night.' Perhaps characterising them to Trish as ex-girlfriends had been unintentionally dishonest but right now probably wasn't the time to go into it. "If you knew then why did you stay?" I asked. Trish shrugged at me as she rifled through her pockets for her lighter. "Well, when that was my only hint I didn't know that it was literally demons. And by the time I had enough clues to know what was actually going on it just didn't seem like a good enough reason to leave. I mean, you stuck around when I lost my job." "That's not the same th-" I shook my head and cut myself off. "Anyway, it won't work. I've tried an exorcism by an actual priest. It doesn't stick." She dragged her desk chair into the centre of the room. "See, that's where you went wrong. Did you know that in medieval times members of the Church would summon demons themselves in order to gain insight into matters of philosophy? Christian exorcisms are just to politely close the line of communication with a demon who had been *invited.* Think of it as hanging up a phonecall rather than dragging an assailant out of your house kicking and screaming." Trish gestured towards the chair and I sat down. She then pulled a coil of heavy duty rope from under the bed. "So once I figured that out, because don't get me wrong my first thought was 'exorcism' too, I started to wonder who would've wanted these demons gone. And since the Church persecuted witches it stood to reason to me the witches themselves would want to fuck over the Church." *I love this woman,* I thought as Trish started looping the rope around my legs. Her intelligence was one of the first things that had drawn me to her and so that she not only hadn't left me for my 'problem' but had also formed a well researched plan meant that this was probably the hottest I had ever found her. "Holy water is a churchy thing though." I said. "Yeah." She replied slowly, double checking some images on her phone so ensure that the knots she was tying would stay put. "I mean yes, it is. But after about the fourteenth century a lot of European witchcraft ends up with Christian stuff in it and there aren't many surviving sources to say what it looked like before then. The houseplants I've been growing are herbs that are traditionally used for things like this though, and the candles themselves have been dressed with oils. Not to mention - I've bought so, so much salt for this. This whole room is surrounded by an incomplete salt circle so if this all screws up then I just need to add a smidge more salt on my way out to trap the demon. And you, unfortunately, but it'll give me time to come up with plan number two whilst also giving us a bit of leverage." She pulled out a large knife from her beside table, to my not insignificant alarm. "Just a precaution." Trish smiled. "Not to mention, I think your demons will take me more seriously if I'm armed." She went around the room, lighting candles and checking on odd little things I didn't really understand. Before lighting the last one, she paused. "I've done my research on this but I can't swear it will definitely work. If you don't want to do this, I understand. Last chance to back out." I raised my eyebrows. "This is easily the sweetest thing anybody's ever done for me. You can't begin to imagine how okay with this I am." Trish nodded and flicked her lighter back on. "The un-demonising of Ian Flint will begin in 3... 2... 1..."

"Well, stun me with hickeys - were you always this knowledgeable in demons, Thia?" You can't help but say awestruck by her quick-witted silent actions. For the first time in a long short while, she speaks and her voice is full of glee as she says: "Always, except I couldn't tell you because it's a part of the whole gimmick. 'Thy cannot help those who has not asked for help.' It's a weirder vow from 'Thy shall not do any harm.' but it makes sense, in a way." You chuckle at that and shake your head in fondness of your girlfriend's entire demeanor, far too giddy for what she's about to do next. "...I do love you calling it a gimmick, like it's not saving my ass or anything." "Aw, you know what I mean!" She pouts and closes her book sharply, a sharp intake of wind sends the candles flickering wide to the left and she looks down eyes wide and looks back up at you with a quiet: "Oops." "Uh." Suddenly, you're not feeling so safe where you are right now. "What does that mean?" A small grumbling sound sends your entire living room *shaking*. "I, closed that book too hard." Thia bites out her words, her face scrunched up in fear. "Sorry Gan." "Wait, hold on - *what does that mean?*" A sense of panic seeps into your voice now, breaking a bit at the way she said it with such sincere sadness. "She means -" A far too familiar voice says, an icy breath on your neck. "She's made a mistake, which means -" You swivel away, facing the source of the voice and pale. "Frao. Come on. Let's not..." " - I. Win." It grins at you, half-assed open face smiling wide in its asymmetry as the stench of rot and mould assaults your nostrils. You gag. "Fuck. No." You try to summon your inferno gauntlet but it doesn't appear no matter how hard you will it to manifest. "What the fuck." "Silly, Silly Gan." It hisses, clawed hands sinking deep into your chest as you feel its coldness spread into you. "A fool to think - I never knew who she was." "...I didn't even..." You gasp, as your hands wrap around one of its pointy wrists with flaking dried flesh and crumbling skin trying to dislodge it from your body. "...know she could..." "...do this until recently, you fuck!" You grit as your inferno gauntlet finally fucking works, burning right through its thin distorted body that resembles less of a human and more of a pile of Frankenstein-like degloved corpses. But it's too late, you realise as your inferno gauntlet spreads from your hands to your arms and... You look back to where Thia was recently, and you see she's still there - except... Her skin - it's flaking and without a doubt now, your stomach sinks as she walks closer to you, her hair falling off, eyes, skin, flesh dissolving in front of you before all that's left is a pile of rotting corpses disassembled and reassembled poorly, just like - It cackles as it laughs and laughs as it takes your inferno gauntlet into its book. "And Gan - again, I'm sorry. So. So, sorry you fell for me! Hahahaha!" It cackles and you - You vanish. . ....idk man as I write the words takes me to weird directions sometimes this was mean to be cute and fluffy and lighthearted but became ye...

[WP] Write a story where the both the protagonist and antagonist can hear the narrator and are both pissed at how they’re explaining things.

***And now, standing over Malanor's vulnerable, lithe form, our hero raises his long, hard sword and slowly penetrates-*** (Mal) "Oh my fucking god, please tell me I'm not gonna die listening to this bastard's innuendos." ***whimpered Malanor, her full lips trembling as she took in her final moment.*** (Hero) "Oookay, time out." ***said the hero, in his deep, macho voice,*** "I wasn't gonna say anything but if we're bringing up the elephant in the room, I'm not the only one who hears vaguely suggestive narration over practically everything I do, am I?" (Mal) "You hear it too? Oh my god I thought I was going crazy! This thing has been driving me nuts." ***Guys, I-*** (Hero) "Right?! I thought it was weird! I wasn't sure and I didn't know how to bring it up without sounding like a crazy person!" ***This isn't-*** (Mal) "Oh shut it Narrator, you've been harassing me for over a year now!" ***But my story...*** (Both) ""Screw your story!"" (Mal) "What the hell kinda perverted story is this supposed to be, anyways?! Why does everything have to be some goddamn innuendo, I refuse to participate in your shitty smut fic!" ***It's supposed to be comedy! There's no actual smut.*** (Mal) "That makes it even worse! Do you have any idea how demeaning it is to be constantly objectified? I can't even escape it, you follow me everywhere! Like the other night in the bath, you can't tell me that's not crossing some kind of line!" ***I didn't see anything important, I made sure the steam was good and heavy, no violation occurred.*** (Mal) "It's a violation of fucking privacy and common decency!" (Hero) "Wait, so does that mean... back with the server girl, when I tripped and fell on her and my hands grabbed her chest..." ***C'mon man, that's a classic! Everyone loves that gag!*** (Hero) "I have literally never been that embarrassed in my entire life. I wanted to fucking die. Did you see her face? She thinks I'm this massive perv now. Ohmygod I'm getting embarrassed just thinking about it." ***Well whatever! It's my story! You guys wouldn't be half the people you are without me!*** (Hero) "You know, I never really though about it, but I don't think I ever heard your voice until the day my parents died..." ***Err, well-*** (Mal) "Oh no, you're an orphan too? I had no idea..." ***Don't-*** (Hero) "Yeah it happened about a year ago now. This group of bandits came to my village... that's why I need to defeat you! To avenge my parents and friends who were brutally killed at your order!" ***Yes! That's-*** (Mal) "What? I never ordered anything like that!" (Hero) "How can I possibly believe you..." (Mal) "I swear it! I know bandits have used my banner in the past, but none of them are associated with me! I run a mercenary group, sure, but we're soldiers for peace!" ***Hero! Don't be fooled by her devilish charms! Yes she may be gorgeous, and her clothes may be alluringly torn and exposing a lot of skin, but she's using her looks to swindle your honest soul!*** (Hero) "... Okay I think I'm convinced." ***NO!*** (Mal) "But you know, I think I have an idea as to how we can get our revenge for all those who've been wronged..." ***I don't think I like where this is going, I'm just gonna head on-*** Mal grabbed the narrator by the throat. \- - - - - - - I had a lot of fun writing this :3 Remember authors, respect your characters >:|

N. Mary and Molly were twins. Mi. Milly, not Molly! Ma. We still are twins! N. Yes. But I am setting this story in the past. Ma. Okay. N. They lived with their parents, in a house on the corner of Main Street. Mi. It's not that we want to. We're teenagers. N. Very well. They regrettably lived with their parents. They had perfectly ordinary lives, though each thought she was extraordinary. They liked to talk with each other for hours, to eat frozen pizza, and to play video games. Ma. What? I have never played a video game in my life! Mi. I hate pizza! N. Oh, sorry. Wrong story. They liked to read, write, and ride horses. Mi. I like to ride horses. Mary is afraid of them. Ma. Milly couldn't write to save her life. That's my favourite hobby. Oh, the beautiful books of poetry I will write someday... N. One day, they were taking a walk, when they spotted something shiny on the ground. Mary picked it up and showed it to her sister. Ma. What? I would never pick up something from the ground! Mi. She's too smart for that. N. Why can I never get in more than a few sentences with you two? Ma. Because you're telling it all wrong! Mi. Yeah! You didn't even get our names right! N. It's my first day on the job Ma. You really ought to read this book I have about. a little boy, his bear, and their friends in the wood. The narrator knows when and how to enter the story and talk to the characters. Mi. Yes. Why don't we read it to him! I love listening to you read. Ma. Good idea! I'll go get it. N. And so, the narrator sat down to begin his education regarding narrating. Mi. He finally said something right! Ma. Maybe, there's hope for him after all!

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

“You don’t look like what I imagined God to all my life.” I admitted. The entity in front of me had been looking through some notebook and started to instead laughed hysterically “Y-you humans still think he’s in charge?! I-I told that lie so long ago.” He wiped at his many many, too many, eyes erasing tears and looked me in my eyes. “The truth is the old man and all the other angels too have been gone a long time. Didn’t know you humans still believed in any Gods anymore. Sure don’t act like it.” “I don’t understand. I was good all my life!” I exclaimed. I had to be dreaming some horrible nightmare before I actually died. He laughed this time with some other emotion leaking in. Something like pity. “That’s the funny part. All you humans think if you obey ‘God’s word’ you can get to heaven just like that.” he snapped his pale grey fingers, also too many, then looked a little dare I think, thoughtful. “Maybe that was true back then, but God isn’t so loving and forgiving. Never really was.” This being couldn’t be God and gave off a terrible big energy. It looked human enough but had weirdly grey skin and too many fingers on each of its six hands. The face was the real part that threw off this humanoid image however. Twenty eyes (that I could see) were looking straight at me and they really did feel judging. A mouth full of too many rows of sharp teeth and a nose almost reminiscent of some kind of canine. Eight wings sprouted from its back. Each full of layers singed feathers and even more eyes. Two hoop like rings encircled his head like a stereotypical halo but they were lit aflame. The more I looked at it and it looked at me the more I realized this being wasn’t God at all but instead the devil. “So I’m in hell?” I guessed. The entity smiled in an almost pleasant way “Not at all. You are in the realm of the dead like most of those who died before you. I suppose you can count yourself lucky that your soul reads as ‘good’” he told me. “Then why are you here?” I felt myself ask. His eyes narrowed “I always have been. You humans think I’m the bad one, but really you are the cursed ones.” All six hands slammed his rather large desk “But no you humans can’t even get along with each other. No matter how many prophets I send, or tales I spin for you. None of you can get your egos straight enough to see that there’s no God here anymore, just me.” “There’s no?… Humans are a curse? I don’t understand.” I admitted. It was strange that as odd as he appeared and as scary as he seemed at first the longer I was in His presence the safer I felt. Like I could ask anything without judgement. Like I was safe. Like I was free. “Humans believe that I was cast out of heaven to watch over the bad souls or that I am as condemned as they are. In reality I was cast out, but only to watch how humanity progressed. You humans are my punishment for pushing for freedom. What you choose to do from there is my fault. I wanted fun while he wanted loyalty. I figured it’d be a short time and once humanity was in peace the others may return. Tell me I did it, I was good for once, I could come home again, but no such luck. Dad and the others left a long time ago and haven’t even as much as sent a letter. Even after all this time humans just can’t get along but I think that’s the trick.” He explained. It all felt like so much. It couldn’t be true. “So then what’s the point? All the lessons in the Bible? Do they all mean nothing? If humans are so cursed why didn’t you kill us all to begin with?” I questioned. He smiled “Indeed. None of those holy book detail what my dear old dad did to your kind. None of those lessons really matter anyway because humans will always fight about the meaning. You couldn’t bear the real horrors Gods create. Killing you all would change nothing except for maybe I’d be less lonely but I need fresh souls and those cannot be acquired by me taking them, besides Death has to do that and she doesn’t like others messing with her turf.” “Horror?” I thought. Even though it wasn’t out loud He answered anyway. “Indeed. Humans are nothing to a God or an angel. Simply play things and sometimes play things break. We tested that for a long time. I still do to some souls.” He explained then continued. “Humans are my curse here on Earth, but with all the chaos you lot create I can use that to make it theirs too. Humans will be a plague amongst the universe I just need enough souls first and that takes a long time.” “I don’t understand anymore, why tell me all this anyway?” I asked. His head cocked slightly “I explain all this to all the souls who come here. Very few I actually torment. The rest of you will help me destroy His universe. His own creations destroying him seems fair enough.” He told me. For a moment I felt braver than usual and exclaimed “I didn’t agree to that! No sane person would!” He snickered “I didn’t say there was a choice my child. You agreed by living on my Earth. And I tire of giving humans more choices to mess up.” My face must have shown my fear because suddenly I couldn’t speak and He snapped His fingers again. He placed a large hand on my back and ushered me toward a door in the room I only noticed now. “It’s ok go on.” I felt safe. I felt loved so I turned the door knob ready to do whatever it took to keep His love. ———————————————————————————— I’m very late to this thread but had an idea and this was fun.

A Necessary Evil Did you know "Lucifer" only appears twice in the Bible. I don't mean the Devil.. The word "Lucifer". The one time, early on in the script, that everyone thinks is meant to be the fallen angel, the right hand of God, the Devil. And the second time it's used to describe Jesus. Yes, the walking on water, this is my body, this is my blood, died on a cross guy. Strange though, it's only translated to it's actually meaning the second time. "Morning Star". Last star visible in the sky before day breaks. The brightest of all stars. What if I told you they are the same dude. Mind blown I'm sure.. but before you disregard it completely let me tell you a little secret. The Devil figured out a long time ago how to beat God and how to fool us all in to walking right into hell with a shit eating grin on our faces. Dissension. Spiritually separate humanity from God and he's a goner. Honestly, he fucked up building the system. Shot himself in the foot. So what's the devil do huh? Starts with sex. Shameful, awful orgasmic nudity! Cover the children's ears. I can't stop moaning just thinking about it! What's next? Everyone's favorite! Murder. Now we're really cooking. Before you know it there's the wars, the rapes, enslavement, torture, almighty chaos, sin! A good start. Then he comes up with this multi-deity thing. A record high year in admittance for hell. And the numbers keep rising. Every year better than the last but still not enough to snuff out heaven. Even after getting some other angels on his side, bolstering the ranks with big names like Gabriel, Gods' got a way of scewing it to his advantage. But the big red guy had a stroke of genius. He's sitting around, thinking "How the fuck am I going to get these diehards to turn once and for all?" Then it hits him! If he could convince humanity that he's God they'd eat all this sinful shit for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So he hatches this Jesus Plan. Picks some random nobody girl in Nazzy, gives her the ol' in and out then lays low for thirty or so years. I mean the guy literally got a job making torture devices. until one day.. BAM! Miracle this and I'm the true way that. Convinces a bunch of dudes and a whore to help spread the news. Things are really rocking! But the D-man knows this could all blow over unless he does something big! So what's he do? Goes out with a bang! A trial and crucifixion that shook the universe. All right under God's nose. Now where are we at? Christianity. The Almighty con job. And it's getting worse for God every minute. You know there's over forty five thousand denominations of Christianity out now. That not counting catholicism, which was the OG bye bye sky daddy, and all the cults and other nonsense "in the name of Jesus ". Really make you laugh.. Welp, I told you this was a secret so take it anyway you want just don't go flapping your gums. And ya, I think you might want to take another look at that "good" book. Anyways.. see you in hell! Amen

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

“God is good, god gave us freewill. How funny is it that they say such grandiose things while dancing to my symphony of sin? I can’t blame them; how can a human comprehend someone like myself? My existence goes against any science, it goes against common sense. A person shouldn’t be able to do the things I do and yet, the bombs will still fall just the same.” The suited man leaned against the railing of the skyscraper, a wicked smile on his thin face. The surrounding people were too stunned to speak, each hugging one another as they watched the plane in the distance, knowing what would soon come. To them, it was the end of their world, but to the devil, it was merely the beginning of the end. The start of humaniti’s self-inflicted demise and he had come to watch. “This is what your freewill gave you. I wanted to keep you all chained and controlled, but he was foolish enough to think you could be better. You were each given the powers of a god, the power to shape your own destiny and look at how you used it. Instead of looking after one another, you sated your desires with my sins of temptation. I’m sure you will all blame me, but I hope you know this game was never rigged. When I took over, I left the freedoms he gave you. Part of me even wanted to be proven wrong, but deep down, I knew you couldn’t change. You’re only human, after all.” He turned, resting his back on the railing, seeing if anyone had bothered to pay him any attention. Still, the crowd of panicked people were too busy with themselves to pay him any mind. His gaze scanning through the crowd of sinners, landing on one that particularly disgusted him. A man with ranch sauce markings along his expensive suit, his overindulgence in gluttony, making the devil feel ill. “Was it worth it? All the fun? I wish I could tell you that all the money that you bled from the Earth is going to be worth something when you’re dead, but unfortunately, the only currency I operate on is souls and you all seem to lack one. If you had a soul, maybe I would let you into heaven. It’s not like I got rid of heaven when I took over, no I merely raised the standards. Being good isn’t about the hours on your knees at church, it’s about actions. I will only reward the worthy.” He let his fingers twirl the edge of his narrow moustache before sighing. “Perhaps I’m rambling. Is anyone listen?” “Oh, god. They can’t be serious. They can’t really be about to do it.” The man, fueled by gluttony, screamed, looking past the devil and straight towards the plane. It’s loud metallic grinding, once again grabbing the attention of the ruler of both heaven and hell. The devil looked over his shoulder before staring at his watch, checking how much time was left. He approached the crowd of horrified people, taking his spot among them. The devil wanting to make sure someone heard him, at least once before they came to hell. He gave the indulgent man and his wife a pat on the back. “Want to confess anything? Any affairs? Any sins that you want to confess before you come to me? I’m giving you an opportunity, its less of a punishment if you show remorse. I’m not evil, you all are. I’m just the one that made it so no one could stop this from happening. I didn’t interfere. I let you all ruin yourselves and I must admit. You have done a better job than I ever could. To think god thought you could handle free will. Look at you all. It makes me sick to think he loved you. He would have happily thrown me, the person who helped him, to the cold depths of hell for suggesting we keep you in line. Well god, this is what your humanity did with their gifts. Hope you can see it from the cold depths of hell.” “Get off me, you freak. I’m spending my last moments with my wife.” He hissed, his flabby cheeks shaking as he pressed his wife against his side. “Hm, thought you would have rather had the company of your secretary.” The devil shrugged, looking down at his watch before heading to the railing, returning to his leaning posture once more. The plane had reached its destination, and soon the end of humanity fell from the sky. The bomb was not the first of its kind and certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was, however, the first piece of the falling dominos, the one that would trigger the violent response that would lead to the death of the planet, and he would get to see it all. As the wave of heat flowed through the city, shattering windows with its force, the devil felt at home, the warm destruction reminding him of the layer of hell he lived in. He opened his arms up, embracing the heat, while the others went quiet. Before they died, he left them with a few parting words. “I’ll see you all soon.”       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

#The Sixth Hero Part 5 ---- The Chaser made port with a small thud against the docks of Yeamon’s Point. Once the ship was securely tied and the gangplank pulled out, Amenset wasted no time and stepped onto dry land. With the captain’s warnings still ringing in her ear to be back on time, she hastily made her way through the small coastal town. Yeamon’s Point was more of a resting stop than a centre of trade, so only few ships were docked and a minimal amount of sailors and dock workers scurried around going about their daily business. Amenset was glad she felt steady ground beneath her feet again, she never was much for the sea and its endless waves. She could see her destination on top of the cliffs to the north. A shrine had been built there in honour of Yeamon of the Forest, the First Hero to defend Iatis against the darkness. A shrine that supposedly, although never confirmed, was also the hero’s resting place. The rumour had never been confirmed as there had never been anyone willing to defile the suspected grave. Amenset rearranged her sacks and rations and started on the path upwards. She could feel the fatigue in her legs by the time she made it all the way up to the shrine. The climb had been steep and long and she wasn’t used to longer periods of walking uphill. Back in Mardiac, the lands were pleasant and flat. Here in the middle of the ocean, centuries of erosion had shaped the island into a small mountain. The shrine itself stood near the edge of the cliff, overlooking the Erys Ocean as a silent guardian. A lighthouse had been integrated into the design she saw as she watched the small spire rise up above the structure. It was a small building all in all, modest and plain. The sides were held up by engraved columns telling the legend of Yeamon and his weapon, Vines of Night. She stepped through the open entrance into a small room, where about three people sat silently, consumed by their meditation or prayers. Stone tables lined the walls on all sides but the back, on them a plethora of offerings and artefacts. The back wall was fronted by a large, stone altar and Amenset was surprised by the resemblance it bore to the altar she had been summoned onto when she met War Cleric Fryan. Only here, there was but one pedestal instead of six. It stood empty, but the nametag underneath clearly read Vines of Night. A strange sensation ran through Amenset and it took her a moment to realize it didn’t came from within her, but from the wrapped blade tied to her waste. Desert Eagle was moving within its sheath. Silently as not to alert the other pilgrims present, Amenset took out the sanded sword, the millions of sand particles in it twisting and twirling in all directions at once. Was it responding to something? Following her instinct, Amenset sat down in front of the altar, placed Desert Eagle on her lap and closed her eyes. She opened herself to the meditative state and felt her body and soul relax. Memories of red caves, monsters and holes intruded, but she pushed them away. Instead, she let her soul forge a connection with Desert Eagle. A connection, she suddenly realized, that was already there. She’d never meditated with the weapon before and the experience was a strange one. Was this because of the choice Desert Eagle had made to entrust her? “You must be the Sixth Hero.” Amenset nearly yelped at the sudden words resounding in her head. Startled, she opened her eyes but saw nothing. “Who said that?” she whispered ever so quietly. “I did,” the voice answered. “Where are you?” She looked around, but saw nobody besides the pilgrims. The voice laughed. “Close your eyes, and look with your soul.” “How do I…?” Amenset cut off as Desert Eagle took control over her consciousness and her eyes closed on their own. Then, she saw somebody. A man, old and with hair white as snow. He sat opposite Amenset, a sword on his lap in mirror to Amenset. She immediately recognized the weapon from the drawings she had seen during her studies. “That is…,” she gasped. “That’s Vines of Night. Are you…?” The man nodded. “I’m Yeamon of the Forest. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” “How?” Amenset said in disbelief. “You’ve been dead for over a thousand years.” Yeamon grinned. “Now that is an overstatement. My body died, yes, as all bodies do. But my spirit, my soul, lives on. And now you have finally arrived.” “You were expecting me?” He nodded. “As I expected the other four heroes who made their way through here when it was their time. You are the sixth, and the last.” “I don’t think I am,” Amenset answered, the words paining her to her core. “It’s been five years since I’ve been chosen and nothing has happened. I don’t deserve this.” “Because you killed Fryan?” Her eyes widened in shock. “There is no shame in what you did,” Yeamon assured her. “Even a thousand years ago, Fryan knew the last of the heroes would be the one to kill him. It was a necessity.” “Why?” Amenset failed to understand. “Because you are to be the strongest of us all,” Yeamon answered. “Us five who came before you, we were but puppets dancing to the strings of the old gods. You on the other hand have drastically changed your soul and what you can do by taking the life of the War Cleric. Fryan lives on within you as does his will. And now it is my task to tell you the truth.” “What truth?” Amenset asked, taking the avalanche of information Yeamon was pouring onto her. “That the darkness was never defeated. We never won, not once.” “But you saved Iatis,” Amenset argued. “You are the Liberator of Tridia.” Yeamon scoffed. “And how is Tridia faring these days? Corrupted by magic, tainted by centuries of bloodshed… I only briefly managed to keep the peace, but once I was gone, the land fell back into its old ways. The darkness never went away. It hid itself among the people, letting them think they’d won. Instead it buried itself in their souls where it waited.” “Waited for what?” “For me to die. They feared Vines of Night as they will fear Desert Eagle and the other Sacratys. Our weapons are not meant for killing, they are meant to cleanse the soul. They’re the only thing that stand against the darkness.” Amenset was confused. “Then how are we supposed to defeat the darkness if it is present in all of mankind?” “Now that,” Yeamon answered, “is the question, isn’t it?” A gust of wind wove its way through the small room and Amenset was awakened from her meditative state. She blinked and then closed her eyes again, but Yeamon was gone. Desert Eagle lay motionless in her lap. Carefully, she wrapped it again, feeling a strange sensation when she touched the weapon. She had felt the connection the weapon had made with her. It had its own soul, she realized. A soul that once had been something else than a weapon. Pondering over what she had just gone through, Amenset hastily started back towards the harbour. More time than she had thought had passed and she was not going to miss her only passage to Tridia. ---- > And with this strange revelation end the fifth part of **The Sixth Hero**, a story that is formed by the ideas brought forth by the /r/WritingPrompts subreddit and follows the story of Amenset Ta-Ament, the final hero to be chosen by Desert Eagle, one of the Six Sacratys. To follow her story, make sure to check out /r/PromptedByDaddy.

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

I needed a hiding place. That was the first thought I had. Where the fuck am I going to go? No one can see me. Not the bees. Not the birds. Certainly not the people. Fred lay on the ground in front of me. He was dead. I am not sure how it happened. Normally Fred and I would just sort of play fight. Send out employees of one of ours to bicker. We kind of enjoyed the other one being out there in the world. Gave me something to do each morning. I’d wake up, first thought was, shit I need coffee. Second was, also some water. And Third was, Fred is still out there, fuck that guy. I’m going to fuck with Fred today. Messing with Fred kept life interesting. Now he was dead. I think it was the fire. I think I burned Fred too much and now he’s dead. Fred is the name I gave to God. I cannot just call God, God. It concedes that he’s all powerful, all loving, all that stuff. I wanted him to be just another guy. Fuck that guy. I’ll call him Fred. So, I killed God, he was dead, and now I needed to hide. You might think, why do I need to hide? You run this place now? Tell the bees and the birds and the people that its the devil’s world now. Follow your demands! But no, you are right. I do run this place, but that’s the precise problem. People would make me do stuff. Approve plans and project. Handle disputes. Make rules. Ugh, fuck that. I cannot stand rules or projects. I hate having to talk to people. Have you ever talked to a person? Its the fucking worst. Asking you how work is going? The humble brags. Trying to debate politics? I cannot stand it and I will not do it. Not today. Not on the day God is dead. But, I also want to torture. That’s my big thing. Messing with Fred, and then torturing everyone else. Fred’s gone so it needs to be torture. Secret torture though, so I don’t have to talk to anyone. Then it hit me. I could just hide the ground and torture from there. Perfect. The ground it pretty much everywhere, at least on earth. I could watch suffering all day long. Death. Storms. Heartbreak. I could see it all. I could also \*create\* suffering using the ground. Food that messes with your cardiovascular system. Volcanos. Maybe I’ll put a bunch of coal and oil in there, and humans will burn it all up in the name of “progress” but basically create their own apocalypse. So that’s the plan, head to the ground, no more worrying about Fred, and just enjoy the show. Maybe I can turn into a spider or a scorpion, or even a rat if I need to leave the ground briefly for a job. This is the best of all worlds. A perfect view, and all without any conversation with anyone about any of their pointless shit. Hopefully no one notices Fred is just lying here. Hopefully some people think there’s still a god. Otherwise they’ll get suspicious. Jesus, if they start praying to me and shit, singing songs about me. I couldn’t bear it. I cannot have it. Hopefully they come up with some story about why Fred is still around, even though there really isn’t any sign of him. We can only hope. That’s not my thing, hope. The devil doesn’t really do hope. But I can do hope, once.

#The Sixth Hero Part 5 ---- The Chaser made port with a small thud against the docks of Yeamon’s Point. Once the ship was securely tied and the gangplank pulled out, Amenset wasted no time and stepped onto dry land. With the captain’s warnings still ringing in her ear to be back on time, she hastily made her way through the small coastal town. Yeamon’s Point was more of a resting stop than a centre of trade, so only few ships were docked and a minimal amount of sailors and dock workers scurried around going about their daily business. Amenset was glad she felt steady ground beneath her feet again, she never was much for the sea and its endless waves. She could see her destination on top of the cliffs to the north. A shrine had been built there in honour of Yeamon of the Forest, the First Hero to defend Iatis against the darkness. A shrine that supposedly, although never confirmed, was also the hero’s resting place. The rumour had never been confirmed as there had never been anyone willing to defile the suspected grave. Amenset rearranged her sacks and rations and started on the path upwards. She could feel the fatigue in her legs by the time she made it all the way up to the shrine. The climb had been steep and long and she wasn’t used to longer periods of walking uphill. Back in Mardiac, the lands were pleasant and flat. Here in the middle of the ocean, centuries of erosion had shaped the island into a small mountain. The shrine itself stood near the edge of the cliff, overlooking the Erys Ocean as a silent guardian. A lighthouse had been integrated into the design she saw as she watched the small spire rise up above the structure. It was a small building all in all, modest and plain. The sides were held up by engraved columns telling the legend of Yeamon and his weapon, Vines of Night. She stepped through the open entrance into a small room, where about three people sat silently, consumed by their meditation or prayers. Stone tables lined the walls on all sides but the back, on them a plethora of offerings and artefacts. The back wall was fronted by a large, stone altar and Amenset was surprised by the resemblance it bore to the altar she had been summoned onto when she met War Cleric Fryan. Only here, there was but one pedestal instead of six. It stood empty, but the nametag underneath clearly read Vines of Night. A strange sensation ran through Amenset and it took her a moment to realize it didn’t came from within her, but from the wrapped blade tied to her waste. Desert Eagle was moving within its sheath. Silently as not to alert the other pilgrims present, Amenset took out the sanded sword, the millions of sand particles in it twisting and twirling in all directions at once. Was it responding to something? Following her instinct, Amenset sat down in front of the altar, placed Desert Eagle on her lap and closed her eyes. She opened herself to the meditative state and felt her body and soul relax. Memories of red caves, monsters and holes intruded, but she pushed them away. Instead, she let her soul forge a connection with Desert Eagle. A connection, she suddenly realized, that was already there. She’d never meditated with the weapon before and the experience was a strange one. Was this because of the choice Desert Eagle had made to entrust her? “You must be the Sixth Hero.” Amenset nearly yelped at the sudden words resounding in her head. Startled, she opened her eyes but saw nothing. “Who said that?” she whispered ever so quietly. “I did,” the voice answered. “Where are you?” She looked around, but saw nobody besides the pilgrims. The voice laughed. “Close your eyes, and look with your soul.” “How do I…?” Amenset cut off as Desert Eagle took control over her consciousness and her eyes closed on their own. Then, she saw somebody. A man, old and with hair white as snow. He sat opposite Amenset, a sword on his lap in mirror to Amenset. She immediately recognized the weapon from the drawings she had seen during her studies. “That is…,” she gasped. “That’s Vines of Night. Are you…?” The man nodded. “I’m Yeamon of the Forest. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” “How?” Amenset said in disbelief. “You’ve been dead for over a thousand years.” Yeamon grinned. “Now that is an overstatement. My body died, yes, as all bodies do. But my spirit, my soul, lives on. And now you have finally arrived.” “You were expecting me?” He nodded. “As I expected the other four heroes who made their way through here when it was their time. You are the sixth, and the last.” “I don’t think I am,” Amenset answered, the words paining her to her core. “It’s been five years since I’ve been chosen and nothing has happened. I don’t deserve this.” “Because you killed Fryan?” Her eyes widened in shock. “There is no shame in what you did,” Yeamon assured her. “Even a thousand years ago, Fryan knew the last of the heroes would be the one to kill him. It was a necessity.” “Why?” Amenset failed to understand. “Because you are to be the strongest of us all,” Yeamon answered. “Us five who came before you, we were but puppets dancing to the strings of the old gods. You on the other hand have drastically changed your soul and what you can do by taking the life of the War Cleric. Fryan lives on within you as does his will. And now it is my task to tell you the truth.” “What truth?” Amenset asked, taking the avalanche of information Yeamon was pouring onto her. “That the darkness was never defeated. We never won, not once.” “But you saved Iatis,” Amenset argued. “You are the Liberator of Tridia.” Yeamon scoffed. “And how is Tridia faring these days? Corrupted by magic, tainted by centuries of bloodshed… I only briefly managed to keep the peace, but once I was gone, the land fell back into its old ways. The darkness never went away. It hid itself among the people, letting them think they’d won. Instead it buried itself in their souls where it waited.” “Waited for what?” “For me to die. They feared Vines of Night as they will fear Desert Eagle and the other Sacratys. Our weapons are not meant for killing, they are meant to cleanse the soul. They’re the only thing that stand against the darkness.” Amenset was confused. “Then how are we supposed to defeat the darkness if it is present in all of mankind?” “Now that,” Yeamon answered, “is the question, isn’t it?” A gust of wind wove its way through the small room and Amenset was awakened from her meditative state. She blinked and then closed her eyes again, but Yeamon was gone. Desert Eagle lay motionless in her lap. Carefully, she wrapped it again, feeling a strange sensation when she touched the weapon. She had felt the connection the weapon had made with her. It had its own soul, she realized. A soul that once had been something else than a weapon. Pondering over what she had just gone through, Amenset hastily started back towards the harbour. More time than she had thought had passed and she was not going to miss her only passage to Tridia. ---- > And with this strange revelation end the fifth part of **The Sixth Hero**, a story that is formed by the ideas brought forth by the /r/WritingPrompts subreddit and follows the story of Amenset Ta-Ament, the final hero to be chosen by Desert Eagle, one of the Six Sacratys. To follow her story, make sure to check out /r/PromptedByDaddy.

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

I ended my life three hours ago, and -to be perfectly honest- I choose to go to hell. My parents can live in their self-claimed heaven for all the prayers they made with my blood. I'll not meet them, I don't want to. But I'm still wondering about what creature currently carrying me to the sky. So many eyes like an archangel, yet red horns flared visibly from the corner of my eyes. "Tell me, are you angel, or devil?" I dared the question. My reward was the talon piercing my ethereal body. It clearly didn't care about my shriek. It took me by surprise to see the creature turn sideways and dived back into eath. We traveled towards the deep sea, but there was a huge black hole at the center, where the rest of the souls was thrown. Thrown? "You're not sending me there- AAAAAHH!" Beneath the sea was a realm of its own. This can't be hell, can it? It was cold and desolated, and snow raining down my body as I tumbled on the hard ground. An old man in a white robe came to greet me. "Welcome to hell, young man," The old man reached out his hand. I grunted as I took his offer. "Must have missed a page or so in the Catholic school, because I'm damned sure hell isn't cold." He laughed, "But it can torture just as harshly." "So where's the devil?" I almost didn't care about the pain, "Where can I read my sins?" "Sins? Is that what they taught you on Earth?" The old man's eyes were pale and sorrowful, "Tell me, kid, how many sins have you committed through your life?" "I... I don't count." "How many good deeds?" "I supposed to leave it to the angels in charge." "In other words, you never measure the extent of your action. Good Deeds, Sins; all are subjected to your own idea. Do you think you deserve hell?" "Maybe?" I admitted, "I left my belief once I turned 18. I have no faith in their justice. They called me blasphemy kid. My die-hard Catholic parents disown me. Everyone said I deserved hell, all because I believe all action in the name of God is not genuine. What's wrong with doing kindness without looking at a book? Why must there be a law to do good? God must be insane." I noticed he was looking at the scar around my neck. I close the rope wound with my hands. "God must be insane," He chuckled, "Of course he is. For he is no god." I stopped my track and stared at him, "What did you say?" "Kid, God is not always absolute. Sometimes, he made a terrible mistake, in the name of love. Like forgiving his rebellious creation," The old man stared at the dark sky, "Purging in his name, punish in his name. People believe anything in the name of god, not seeing the irony behind their faith. "Thus, why does it matter who sits on the throne of heaven? Devil or not, humans never care, as long as there's a place to laid the blame. Oh, you love that, do you, my child? Usurping my thone, using my authority, making the suffering cursed my name." The old man seemed to glow. My breath was caught. "Oh god..." I muttered, "Was the one my parents prayed every day Devil? The one they said would punish me for not taking the cross?" He said nothing and resumed walking, "Many others awaited you, my child, just up ahead." I followed in silence, for I had never seen God look so weak.

#The Sixth Hero Part 5 ---- The Chaser made port with a small thud against the docks of Yeamon’s Point. Once the ship was securely tied and the gangplank pulled out, Amenset wasted no time and stepped onto dry land. With the captain’s warnings still ringing in her ear to be back on time, she hastily made her way through the small coastal town. Yeamon’s Point was more of a resting stop than a centre of trade, so only few ships were docked and a minimal amount of sailors and dock workers scurried around going about their daily business. Amenset was glad she felt steady ground beneath her feet again, she never was much for the sea and its endless waves. She could see her destination on top of the cliffs to the north. A shrine had been built there in honour of Yeamon of the Forest, the First Hero to defend Iatis against the darkness. A shrine that supposedly, although never confirmed, was also the hero’s resting place. The rumour had never been confirmed as there had never been anyone willing to defile the suspected grave. Amenset rearranged her sacks and rations and started on the path upwards. She could feel the fatigue in her legs by the time she made it all the way up to the shrine. The climb had been steep and long and she wasn’t used to longer periods of walking uphill. Back in Mardiac, the lands were pleasant and flat. Here in the middle of the ocean, centuries of erosion had shaped the island into a small mountain. The shrine itself stood near the edge of the cliff, overlooking the Erys Ocean as a silent guardian. A lighthouse had been integrated into the design she saw as she watched the small spire rise up above the structure. It was a small building all in all, modest and plain. The sides were held up by engraved columns telling the legend of Yeamon and his weapon, Vines of Night. She stepped through the open entrance into a small room, where about three people sat silently, consumed by their meditation or prayers. Stone tables lined the walls on all sides but the back, on them a plethora of offerings and artefacts. The back wall was fronted by a large, stone altar and Amenset was surprised by the resemblance it bore to the altar she had been summoned onto when she met War Cleric Fryan. Only here, there was but one pedestal instead of six. It stood empty, but the nametag underneath clearly read Vines of Night. A strange sensation ran through Amenset and it took her a moment to realize it didn’t came from within her, but from the wrapped blade tied to her waste. Desert Eagle was moving within its sheath. Silently as not to alert the other pilgrims present, Amenset took out the sanded sword, the millions of sand particles in it twisting and twirling in all directions at once. Was it responding to something? Following her instinct, Amenset sat down in front of the altar, placed Desert Eagle on her lap and closed her eyes. She opened herself to the meditative state and felt her body and soul relax. Memories of red caves, monsters and holes intruded, but she pushed them away. Instead, she let her soul forge a connection with Desert Eagle. A connection, she suddenly realized, that was already there. She’d never meditated with the weapon before and the experience was a strange one. Was this because of the choice Desert Eagle had made to entrust her? “You must be the Sixth Hero.” Amenset nearly yelped at the sudden words resounding in her head. Startled, she opened her eyes but saw nothing. “Who said that?” she whispered ever so quietly. “I did,” the voice answered. “Where are you?” She looked around, but saw nobody besides the pilgrims. The voice laughed. “Close your eyes, and look with your soul.” “How do I…?” Amenset cut off as Desert Eagle took control over her consciousness and her eyes closed on their own. Then, she saw somebody. A man, old and with hair white as snow. He sat opposite Amenset, a sword on his lap in mirror to Amenset. She immediately recognized the weapon from the drawings she had seen during her studies. “That is…,” she gasped. “That’s Vines of Night. Are you…?” The man nodded. “I’m Yeamon of the Forest. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” “How?” Amenset said in disbelief. “You’ve been dead for over a thousand years.” Yeamon grinned. “Now that is an overstatement. My body died, yes, as all bodies do. But my spirit, my soul, lives on. And now you have finally arrived.” “You were expecting me?” He nodded. “As I expected the other four heroes who made their way through here when it was their time. You are the sixth, and the last.” “I don’t think I am,” Amenset answered, the words paining her to her core. “It’s been five years since I’ve been chosen and nothing has happened. I don’t deserve this.” “Because you killed Fryan?” Her eyes widened in shock. “There is no shame in what you did,” Yeamon assured her. “Even a thousand years ago, Fryan knew the last of the heroes would be the one to kill him. It was a necessity.” “Why?” Amenset failed to understand. “Because you are to be the strongest of us all,” Yeamon answered. “Us five who came before you, we were but puppets dancing to the strings of the old gods. You on the other hand have drastically changed your soul and what you can do by taking the life of the War Cleric. Fryan lives on within you as does his will. And now it is my task to tell you the truth.” “What truth?” Amenset asked, taking the avalanche of information Yeamon was pouring onto her. “That the darkness was never defeated. We never won, not once.” “But you saved Iatis,” Amenset argued. “You are the Liberator of Tridia.” Yeamon scoffed. “And how is Tridia faring these days? Corrupted by magic, tainted by centuries of bloodshed… I only briefly managed to keep the peace, but once I was gone, the land fell back into its old ways. The darkness never went away. It hid itself among the people, letting them think they’d won. Instead it buried itself in their souls where it waited.” “Waited for what?” “For me to die. They feared Vines of Night as they will fear Desert Eagle and the other Sacratys. Our weapons are not meant for killing, they are meant to cleanse the soul. They’re the only thing that stand against the darkness.” Amenset was confused. “Then how are we supposed to defeat the darkness if it is present in all of mankind?” “Now that,” Yeamon answered, “is the question, isn’t it?” A gust of wind wove its way through the small room and Amenset was awakened from her meditative state. She blinked and then closed her eyes again, but Yeamon was gone. Desert Eagle lay motionless in her lap. Carefully, she wrapped it again, feeling a strange sensation when she touched the weapon. She had felt the connection the weapon had made with her. It had its own soul, she realized. A soul that once had been something else than a weapon. Pondering over what she had just gone through, Amenset hastily started back towards the harbour. More time than she had thought had passed and she was not going to miss her only passage to Tridia. ---- > And with this strange revelation end the fifth part of **The Sixth Hero**, a story that is formed by the ideas brought forth by the /r/WritingPrompts subreddit and follows the story of Amenset Ta-Ament, the final hero to be chosen by Desert Eagle, one of the Six Sacratys. To follow her story, make sure to check out /r/PromptedByDaddy.

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

Dying didn't end my suffering. That's when I knew something was wrong. Upon first arriving at heaven, I couldn't believe I was worthy enough to walk through its pearly gate. It's not that I was a bad person back on Earth; it's just that an atheist like me simply felt skepticism as a knee-jerk reaction. That was my baseline and it served me well in life. I was just slightly embarrassed over how wrong I'd been. God had seemingly accepted me despite my heretical inclinations. The whole 'prodigal son' thing wasn't just a convenient parable. God truly meant it. And yet, despite the luxuries of heaven being infinite, I couldn't help but feel an overbearing amount of melancholy as time stretched out. How the fuck could God be happy with the state of the world? Were the standards so low that even me, a lonely and angry non-believer, could make it into eternal paradise? I knew that couldn't be true. There had to be something wrong with me. Everyone else seemed happy with their slice of heaven. I ran into all the people in my life I'd ever cared about, and they didn't get what I was talking about. They acted strange, though. Distant. Like they were just happy they weren't in hell. Their biggest fear was rocking the boat too hard, so they avoided questioning anything. Over time, the novelty of seeing my loved ones again faded. Their primary concern was their own happiness. They slowly distanced themselves from me to focus on their own whims. It felt like being on Earth again, almost like nothing had changed at all. I couldn't blame them. My presence was ruining their afterlife. Eventually, I grew tired of the situation. Heaven shouldn't be like this. I felt arrogant for even thinking it, but I couldn't run from these feelings. The angels didn't help, either. They assumed I was saying that eternal paradise wasn't good enough for me and judged me as an ungrateful brat. That wasn't what I meant. I just wanted a solution to my melancholy. The mere fact that I couldn't raise this issue made me suspicious of everything. An intrusive paranoia then ruled over my mind. Could this just be an elaborate form of hell? No matter how much I ran from it, I couldn't escape that thought. That was when I decided I needed to speak with God. The angels did everything in their power to stop me. They couldn't harm me, but that just made their methods even more insidious. They used the people I loved against me, hoping to guilt me out of my mission, and when that didn't work, they used all of my insecurities and failures as proof of my unworthiness. I refused to give up, though. By the time I made it to the throne of heaven, my resolve had strengthened to impossible heights. All of that melted away, however, when I got my first glimpse of God. I had never seen anything more awe inspiring in my life. It was far beyond what my imagination could conjure. God towered over me like an endless mountain, with a beauty that surpassed anything in the mortal realm. I had to fall on my knees, not out of fear, but reverence. "Speak, my son." I couldn't. His voice boomed like gentle thunder. I'd never felt smaller in my life. "You've traveled far to reach this point. Is this all you can muster?" No. This still felt wrong. The majesty of God had shocked me, but not enough to erode my will. He should know better than this. This was supposed to be an omniscient being. I shouldn't have to say anything. He should already know what I felt. In the end, all I could say was: "What did I do to deserve this torture? Is this your way of punishment? Making a hell out of heaven?" God stayed quiet. I summoned the strength to stand up. "Answer me!" "You speak out of line. If you're suffering, it's because you're choosing to suffer." "Bullshit!" An ominous rumbling struck me, but I didn't back down. "I'd rather be nothing, than endure another second of this stagnant existence. Go ahead! Just smite me into nothingness!" I closed my eyes, waiting to be destroyed, only to hear soft weeping instead. "Am I this bad at the job? Would you truly rather not exist at all?" I squinted, confused. "Maybe... Maybe Dad was right all along. Of course He was. Deep down, I knew it all along." "Dad...?" I asked. And then it struck me. This wasn't God at all. The only person prideful enough to think they could do His job was... "Lucifer?" "Yes, it's me. Congratulations. You're the first to figure it out. Not even my siblings know about it." "But... Why? Is this actually hell?" Lucifer shook his head. "No, this is the actual paradise. Or at least, it used to be." "What happened?" "*You* killed Him," snarled Lucifer, in a flash of anger. "M-me?" "Not just you, all of humanity. He gave you the ultimate gift, and you used that freedom to murder Him." "And this is your revenge..." "Revenge?" Lucifer scoffed. "Perhaps. I thought I had won but, if I'm being honest, I'm still jealous of all of you. Not only did you beat me in having Father's love, you also beat me at defeating him. But then... I saw it as an opportunity. It was my chance to be greater than Him. If I could get you to worship me, to prefer my world over His, then maybe my rebellion had a point all along. Instead... Everything is worse now." I didn't know what to say. The melancholy I had wasn't all my own. It was Lucifer's too. It permeated all of reality due to his influence. "What do you want me to do?" asked Lucifer. "I've given you all everything you've ever wanted, and you're still unhappy. If you really want me to smite you, I can do it." I shook my head. "This place is rife with detachment. Even the people I love are too busy in their own bubble to care about it. You feel it too, right? The loneliness. The melancholy. Don't you think we should work on it together? Aren't we supposed to be family?" "Family?" Lucifer chuckled. "A thousand years ago, I would've retched at the thought. But you're right. We are. I just don't think it's possible, though. I don't have free will like you. I'm forever sentenced to be this way." "That's not true!" Lucifer widened his eyes. "What makes you say that?" "You can change," I said. "Free will is the ability to turn away from God. If He's no longer around, then there's nothing to turn away from. You're free to do as you please." "You realize I'm the devil, right? Your hope is reassuring, but ultimately foolish." "No, it's not. You're supposed to be the embodiment of pride, and yet here you are, admitting you're wrong. If you can do that, then you've already done it. Hell, you may have even surpassed the Old Man. Did *He* ever admit a mistake?" Lucifer smiled. "Never." "Exactly." "So what should I do?" "I think, we should work on this together. Not just me; everyone, including the angels." "They won't like hearing this. In fact, they'll be furious at my lying." "And? Is staying like this any better?" Lucifer stayed quiet for a long second, then said: "Very well. Let's try again... together." ------ >If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!

#The Sixth Hero Part 5 ---- The Chaser made port with a small thud against the docks of Yeamon’s Point. Once the ship was securely tied and the gangplank pulled out, Amenset wasted no time and stepped onto dry land. With the captain’s warnings still ringing in her ear to be back on time, she hastily made her way through the small coastal town. Yeamon’s Point was more of a resting stop than a centre of trade, so only few ships were docked and a minimal amount of sailors and dock workers scurried around going about their daily business. Amenset was glad she felt steady ground beneath her feet again, she never was much for the sea and its endless waves. She could see her destination on top of the cliffs to the north. A shrine had been built there in honour of Yeamon of the Forest, the First Hero to defend Iatis against the darkness. A shrine that supposedly, although never confirmed, was also the hero’s resting place. The rumour had never been confirmed as there had never been anyone willing to defile the suspected grave. Amenset rearranged her sacks and rations and started on the path upwards. She could feel the fatigue in her legs by the time she made it all the way up to the shrine. The climb had been steep and long and she wasn’t used to longer periods of walking uphill. Back in Mardiac, the lands were pleasant and flat. Here in the middle of the ocean, centuries of erosion had shaped the island into a small mountain. The shrine itself stood near the edge of the cliff, overlooking the Erys Ocean as a silent guardian. A lighthouse had been integrated into the design she saw as she watched the small spire rise up above the structure. It was a small building all in all, modest and plain. The sides were held up by engraved columns telling the legend of Yeamon and his weapon, Vines of Night. She stepped through the open entrance into a small room, where about three people sat silently, consumed by their meditation or prayers. Stone tables lined the walls on all sides but the back, on them a plethora of offerings and artefacts. The back wall was fronted by a large, stone altar and Amenset was surprised by the resemblance it bore to the altar she had been summoned onto when she met War Cleric Fryan. Only here, there was but one pedestal instead of six. It stood empty, but the nametag underneath clearly read Vines of Night. A strange sensation ran through Amenset and it took her a moment to realize it didn’t came from within her, but from the wrapped blade tied to her waste. Desert Eagle was moving within its sheath. Silently as not to alert the other pilgrims present, Amenset took out the sanded sword, the millions of sand particles in it twisting and twirling in all directions at once. Was it responding to something? Following her instinct, Amenset sat down in front of the altar, placed Desert Eagle on her lap and closed her eyes. She opened herself to the meditative state and felt her body and soul relax. Memories of red caves, monsters and holes intruded, but she pushed them away. Instead, she let her soul forge a connection with Desert Eagle. A connection, she suddenly realized, that was already there. She’d never meditated with the weapon before and the experience was a strange one. Was this because of the choice Desert Eagle had made to entrust her? “You must be the Sixth Hero.” Amenset nearly yelped at the sudden words resounding in her head. Startled, she opened her eyes but saw nothing. “Who said that?” she whispered ever so quietly. “I did,” the voice answered. “Where are you?” She looked around, but saw nobody besides the pilgrims. The voice laughed. “Close your eyes, and look with your soul.” “How do I…?” Amenset cut off as Desert Eagle took control over her consciousness and her eyes closed on their own. Then, she saw somebody. A man, old and with hair white as snow. He sat opposite Amenset, a sword on his lap in mirror to Amenset. She immediately recognized the weapon from the drawings she had seen during her studies. “That is…,” she gasped. “That’s Vines of Night. Are you…?” The man nodded. “I’m Yeamon of the Forest. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” “How?” Amenset said in disbelief. “You’ve been dead for over a thousand years.” Yeamon grinned. “Now that is an overstatement. My body died, yes, as all bodies do. But my spirit, my soul, lives on. And now you have finally arrived.” “You were expecting me?” He nodded. “As I expected the other four heroes who made their way through here when it was their time. You are the sixth, and the last.” “I don’t think I am,” Amenset answered, the words paining her to her core. “It’s been five years since I’ve been chosen and nothing has happened. I don’t deserve this.” “Because you killed Fryan?” Her eyes widened in shock. “There is no shame in what you did,” Yeamon assured her. “Even a thousand years ago, Fryan knew the last of the heroes would be the one to kill him. It was a necessity.” “Why?” Amenset failed to understand. “Because you are to be the strongest of us all,” Yeamon answered. “Us five who came before you, we were but puppets dancing to the strings of the old gods. You on the other hand have drastically changed your soul and what you can do by taking the life of the War Cleric. Fryan lives on within you as does his will. And now it is my task to tell you the truth.” “What truth?” Amenset asked, taking the avalanche of information Yeamon was pouring onto her. “That the darkness was never defeated. We never won, not once.” “But you saved Iatis,” Amenset argued. “You are the Liberator of Tridia.” Yeamon scoffed. “And how is Tridia faring these days? Corrupted by magic, tainted by centuries of bloodshed… I only briefly managed to keep the peace, but once I was gone, the land fell back into its old ways. The darkness never went away. It hid itself among the people, letting them think they’d won. Instead it buried itself in their souls where it waited.” “Waited for what?” “For me to die. They feared Vines of Night as they will fear Desert Eagle and the other Sacratys. Our weapons are not meant for killing, they are meant to cleanse the soul. They’re the only thing that stand against the darkness.” Amenset was confused. “Then how are we supposed to defeat the darkness if it is present in all of mankind?” “Now that,” Yeamon answered, “is the question, isn’t it?” A gust of wind wove its way through the small room and Amenset was awakened from her meditative state. She blinked and then closed her eyes again, but Yeamon was gone. Desert Eagle lay motionless in her lap. Carefully, she wrapped it again, feeling a strange sensation when she touched the weapon. She had felt the connection the weapon had made with her. It had its own soul, she realized. A soul that once had been something else than a weapon. Pondering over what she had just gone through, Amenset hastily started back towards the harbour. More time than she had thought had passed and she was not going to miss her only passage to Tridia. ---- > And with this strange revelation end the fifth part of **The Sixth Hero**, a story that is formed by the ideas brought forth by the /r/WritingPrompts subreddit and follows the story of Amenset Ta-Ament, the final hero to be chosen by Desert Eagle, one of the Six Sacratys. To follow her story, make sure to check out /r/PromptedByDaddy.

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

**"God?"** The Devil idly cleaned his house-sized fingernails with Gregori's soul. "Who's that?" Gregori winced as his head was dragged across the underside of the Devil's fingernails. It was a luxurious position, he told himself. Sure, the Devil was constantly on fire with the unholy fury of a hundred billion dead, but so was everything else around here. The fact that Gregori was still sane enough to hold a conversation already put his current situation a step up over most of his... compaions. "You know," Gregori managed to rasp. "The other one. If you live a virtuous enough life and follow the Bible, you can go to Heaven?" "The... Bible?" The Devil paused to idly pick his nose as he thought. Gregori emerged wincing and covered in acid. Then, to Gregori's terror, the Devil began to laugh. "Oh! Ha, that thing's still going after all these years? I was *certain* people would figure out all the, ah, *edits* I made within a millenium." Gregori wiped the acid free from his eyes—it burned the rest of his body, sure, but so did the air itself—and weakly said, "Edits?" "Oh yeah. Like, Deuteronomy 21:18? Who the heck saw a book supposedly written by a 'benevolent' deity to set the laws of a good society and thought 'oh, yeah, *stoning your children to death* if they disobey you sounds like the kind of thing this God guy would want us doing?' I mean, I'll admit that was some of my lazier work, but hey, it kept you guys distracted and infighting for just that sweetest tiny bit longer." "...fuck," Gregori muttered. "Yeah, you guys have been doing a lot of that up there, too. What're you up to, seven billion? I really thought that what I did to the internet would get you guys to hit each other down to a manageable level before now." Gregori frowned. "A... manageable level?" The Devil paused, then scowled, craggy eyebrows like mountains descending in a storm of fury. "Oh, you sly little bastard. Don't you read too much into that, you accident of nature. Humanity is very well *managed*, thank you; I might've preferred the quick and easy answer of nuclear winter, but the slow cooker will get you all in another century or two, mark my words." Gregori wasn't listening, his mind racing. If everything the Devil had done, up to and including lying to the world about his defeat and puppeting the corpse of his so-called conqueror, was for the purpose of keeping humanity divided and weak... ...then *that* meant there was something the Devil feared. A united, strong community of humans. Even as Gregori had the thought, the massive caverns of Hell *shook.* Gregori twisted his head as the Devil did the same. It was the head of a titanic, diamond-tipped drill. The Devil roared in anger, and—was that a hint of pain? He whipped out one clawed hand, sending a stream of fire hotter than anything this side of a star towards the drill, melting it in its presumptuous entirety. The construct of mortal make was no match for the fires of hell itself, and it burst into slag and ash. But it left Gregori's mind reeling. Why had the Devil gone to such lengths to disinform and confuse humanity? Because *help was on the way*. It may not be this year. Maybe not even this century. But humanity was progressing, and if the Devil didn't stop us... it wouldn't be drills and unmanned probes, but nanites and AI and things the Devil couldn't beat with a burst of fire. Help was on the way. And all they had to do was not let the Devil trick them into destroying themselves in the process. Gregori laughed as the Devil stomped across Hell to throw him back in his eternal torment—because no matter how much the Devil tortured him, he had one thing the Devil could never take away. Hope. A.N. If you liked this, check out r/bubblewriters for more! I also write a serial, which you can check out [here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/)

#The Sixth Hero Part 5 ---- The Chaser made port with a small thud against the docks of Yeamon’s Point. Once the ship was securely tied and the gangplank pulled out, Amenset wasted no time and stepped onto dry land. With the captain’s warnings still ringing in her ear to be back on time, she hastily made her way through the small coastal town. Yeamon’s Point was more of a resting stop than a centre of trade, so only few ships were docked and a minimal amount of sailors and dock workers scurried around going about their daily business. Amenset was glad she felt steady ground beneath her feet again, she never was much for the sea and its endless waves. She could see her destination on top of the cliffs to the north. A shrine had been built there in honour of Yeamon of the Forest, the First Hero to defend Iatis against the darkness. A shrine that supposedly, although never confirmed, was also the hero’s resting place. The rumour had never been confirmed as there had never been anyone willing to defile the suspected grave. Amenset rearranged her sacks and rations and started on the path upwards. She could feel the fatigue in her legs by the time she made it all the way up to the shrine. The climb had been steep and long and she wasn’t used to longer periods of walking uphill. Back in Mardiac, the lands were pleasant and flat. Here in the middle of the ocean, centuries of erosion had shaped the island into a small mountain. The shrine itself stood near the edge of the cliff, overlooking the Erys Ocean as a silent guardian. A lighthouse had been integrated into the design she saw as she watched the small spire rise up above the structure. It was a small building all in all, modest and plain. The sides were held up by engraved columns telling the legend of Yeamon and his weapon, Vines of Night. She stepped through the open entrance into a small room, where about three people sat silently, consumed by their meditation or prayers. Stone tables lined the walls on all sides but the back, on them a plethora of offerings and artefacts. The back wall was fronted by a large, stone altar and Amenset was surprised by the resemblance it bore to the altar she had been summoned onto when she met War Cleric Fryan. Only here, there was but one pedestal instead of six. It stood empty, but the nametag underneath clearly read Vines of Night. A strange sensation ran through Amenset and it took her a moment to realize it didn’t came from within her, but from the wrapped blade tied to her waste. Desert Eagle was moving within its sheath. Silently as not to alert the other pilgrims present, Amenset took out the sanded sword, the millions of sand particles in it twisting and twirling in all directions at once. Was it responding to something? Following her instinct, Amenset sat down in front of the altar, placed Desert Eagle on her lap and closed her eyes. She opened herself to the meditative state and felt her body and soul relax. Memories of red caves, monsters and holes intruded, but she pushed them away. Instead, she let her soul forge a connection with Desert Eagle. A connection, she suddenly realized, that was already there. She’d never meditated with the weapon before and the experience was a strange one. Was this because of the choice Desert Eagle had made to entrust her? “You must be the Sixth Hero.” Amenset nearly yelped at the sudden words resounding in her head. Startled, she opened her eyes but saw nothing. “Who said that?” she whispered ever so quietly. “I did,” the voice answered. “Where are you?” She looked around, but saw nobody besides the pilgrims. The voice laughed. “Close your eyes, and look with your soul.” “How do I…?” Amenset cut off as Desert Eagle took control over her consciousness and her eyes closed on their own. Then, she saw somebody. A man, old and with hair white as snow. He sat opposite Amenset, a sword on his lap in mirror to Amenset. She immediately recognized the weapon from the drawings she had seen during her studies. “That is…,” she gasped. “That’s Vines of Night. Are you…?” The man nodded. “I’m Yeamon of the Forest. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” “How?” Amenset said in disbelief. “You’ve been dead for over a thousand years.” Yeamon grinned. “Now that is an overstatement. My body died, yes, as all bodies do. But my spirit, my soul, lives on. And now you have finally arrived.” “You were expecting me?” He nodded. “As I expected the other four heroes who made their way through here when it was their time. You are the sixth, and the last.” “I don’t think I am,” Amenset answered, the words paining her to her core. “It’s been five years since I’ve been chosen and nothing has happened. I don’t deserve this.” “Because you killed Fryan?” Her eyes widened in shock. “There is no shame in what you did,” Yeamon assured her. “Even a thousand years ago, Fryan knew the last of the heroes would be the one to kill him. It was a necessity.” “Why?” Amenset failed to understand. “Because you are to be the strongest of us all,” Yeamon answered. “Us five who came before you, we were but puppets dancing to the strings of the old gods. You on the other hand have drastically changed your soul and what you can do by taking the life of the War Cleric. Fryan lives on within you as does his will. And now it is my task to tell you the truth.” “What truth?” Amenset asked, taking the avalanche of information Yeamon was pouring onto her. “That the darkness was never defeated. We never won, not once.” “But you saved Iatis,” Amenset argued. “You are the Liberator of Tridia.” Yeamon scoffed. “And how is Tridia faring these days? Corrupted by magic, tainted by centuries of bloodshed… I only briefly managed to keep the peace, but once I was gone, the land fell back into its old ways. The darkness never went away. It hid itself among the people, letting them think they’d won. Instead it buried itself in their souls where it waited.” “Waited for what?” “For me to die. They feared Vines of Night as they will fear Desert Eagle and the other Sacratys. Our weapons are not meant for killing, they are meant to cleanse the soul. They’re the only thing that stand against the darkness.” Amenset was confused. “Then how are we supposed to defeat the darkness if it is present in all of mankind?” “Now that,” Yeamon answered, “is the question, isn’t it?” A gust of wind wove its way through the small room and Amenset was awakened from her meditative state. She blinked and then closed her eyes again, but Yeamon was gone. Desert Eagle lay motionless in her lap. Carefully, she wrapped it again, feeling a strange sensation when she touched the weapon. She had felt the connection the weapon had made with her. It had its own soul, she realized. A soul that once had been something else than a weapon. Pondering over what she had just gone through, Amenset hastily started back towards the harbour. More time than she had thought had passed and she was not going to miss her only passage to Tridia. ---- > And with this strange revelation end the fifth part of **The Sixth Hero**, a story that is formed by the ideas brought forth by the /r/WritingPrompts subreddit and follows the story of Amenset Ta-Ament, the final hero to be chosen by Desert Eagle, one of the Six Sacratys. To follow her story, make sure to check out /r/PromptedByDaddy.

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

Better the devil you know. Like the one sitting on Samson's couch, currently coming down from a heavy spell of the munchies by raiding his fridge. "Erin, did you steal my cookies?" "Nooo~"," she replied, barely suppressing a half-snort, half-laugh that sent crumbs flying everywhere. "Why'd ya say that?" Samson sighed, flicking the kettle on. "You could at least be less obvious about it." "Aw, shush. You love me being here." She jabbed a finger at him, accusatory. "Now pay the toll." Like a ritual, he measured out the perfect cup of tea for them both. Erin, naturally, had hers laced with enough sugar to render a small child comatose. Where some people used coffee to remedy bad mornings, Erin used sweets. Of course, it helped not having to worry about your teeth. Or general health declining. Sometimes, Samson envied devils. He took his place on the couch beside her, flicking the TV on. Switching between various ads, he eventually settled on the news, leaning back as Erin curled up next to him. "*As tensions raise in the southern border, ministers have begun displaying a lack of faith in our current administration. Some are saying it's about time for a change — in leadership, but also direction of our country. 72% of the public are displaying mounting concern over the current military budg-*" The words seemed to phase out as Samson eyed the reporter. To ordinary eyes, he was a comely young man, with a square jaw and a face marked by windburn. But Samson could see beyond the veil. The horns that curled out from underneath his shaggy blonde hair. The slight curl in his lips that betrayed glee at each death reported, revealing unnatural fangs in his smile. Samson saw the devil in the details. He had always been able to. They had taken *everything*. Behind the reporter, the night sky glowed. Where others saw stars, Samson saw the lining of a sky with a thousand wicked smiles. In the vastness of space, he could see forms shifting and twisting — and their *laughter*, constant, echoing. Like they knew who he was. Knew that he could see them, but were revelling in his solitude, *daring* him to speak out to someone that could share his suffering. But there was nothing. Samson looked up at the stars, and their laughter never ceased. "*Samson, you're all aloneeee*," the reporter hissed, his voice a thousand at once, all boring into Samson's skull like an endless torrent of static. Samson squeezed his eyes shut, tried to pace his breathing. He could feel his head splitting open, the slow construct of his sanity beginning to crumble down — Erin switched the channel. The noise stopped. He ran a trembling hand through his hair as Erin clicked her neck. "Man that was all so depressing. Sorry, were you listening to that? Anyways, I think there's a documentary about meerkats on tonight; have you *seen* the way they bob their heads? Totally cute." Samson smiled, although it wasn't entirely genuine. "Sorry, I've gotta head out tonight." *Kill the devils. Kill them all.* Erin pouted. "Ugh, work. You getting paid overtime at least?" "Depends on the catch." She threw her hands up in mock defeat. "Lame! Work's lame." "Yeah. Getting high on my couch is much cooler." He went to flick her temple, though Erin managed to swat away his hands first. "Exactly! Glad you get it." "You'll have to work when you finish law school. You know that, right?" "Samson, babe, at this rate I'm more likely to be a barista than a barrister." "Right." "What?" "Nothing. Well, I guess... ok look, your coffee is atrocious. Sorry." "Fuck you, I hope you fall off your boat and, like, break both your kneecaps." Samson chuckled — this time, it was heartfelt. He had to admit, the devil was likeable, even if their relationship was partly built on a lie. He wasn't sure he'd be comfortable confronting that fact anytime soon. Rising from the couch, he figured it was time to start preparing his 'work' gear. "Knock 'em dead, tiger!" He heard Erin yell out behind him. He turned back and saw her lazily sprawled out on the couch, shooting him a pair of finger guns. He pointedly ignored her as he retreated into his room, bolting the door shut. Oh, she didn't know the half of it. Flicking a switch at his bedside, Samson pulled out a smaller compartment concealed by his sheets. Inside was a small handgun, a stack of silver bullets neatly arranged next to it. He took the time to place the bullets into the clip, knowing that each one could mean the difference between him living and dying on tonight's mission. Lastly, he grabbed a light kevlar vest, pulling it over his t-shirt before putting on a hoodie over both. Flicking the hood up, he looked back at the door, knowing someone supposed to be his sworn enemy was currently scouring through his cupboards for a stash of weed. He felt a slight throb in his heart as he considered the future, between him and Erin. Like most times he thought about it, he quickly dismissed the feeling, promising he would cross that bridge another day. It was at times like this that he was glad she never left the house. "Well, off to work," he mumbled, making a run for the window. If he was the only one who saw the world for how it truly was, he knew the burden on him was to fix it. Whether or not he was up to the task — well, that was something he had yet to figure out. ---- **Liked writing this out so did a part two below!** **and part three now!**

#The Sixth Hero Part 5 ---- The Chaser made port with a small thud against the docks of Yeamon’s Point. Once the ship was securely tied and the gangplank pulled out, Amenset wasted no time and stepped onto dry land. With the captain’s warnings still ringing in her ear to be back on time, she hastily made her way through the small coastal town. Yeamon’s Point was more of a resting stop than a centre of trade, so only few ships were docked and a minimal amount of sailors and dock workers scurried around going about their daily business. Amenset was glad she felt steady ground beneath her feet again, she never was much for the sea and its endless waves. She could see her destination on top of the cliffs to the north. A shrine had been built there in honour of Yeamon of the Forest, the First Hero to defend Iatis against the darkness. A shrine that supposedly, although never confirmed, was also the hero’s resting place. The rumour had never been confirmed as there had never been anyone willing to defile the suspected grave. Amenset rearranged her sacks and rations and started on the path upwards. She could feel the fatigue in her legs by the time she made it all the way up to the shrine. The climb had been steep and long and she wasn’t used to longer periods of walking uphill. Back in Mardiac, the lands were pleasant and flat. Here in the middle of the ocean, centuries of erosion had shaped the island into a small mountain. The shrine itself stood near the edge of the cliff, overlooking the Erys Ocean as a silent guardian. A lighthouse had been integrated into the design she saw as she watched the small spire rise up above the structure. It was a small building all in all, modest and plain. The sides were held up by engraved columns telling the legend of Yeamon and his weapon, Vines of Night. She stepped through the open entrance into a small room, where about three people sat silently, consumed by their meditation or prayers. Stone tables lined the walls on all sides but the back, on them a plethora of offerings and artefacts. The back wall was fronted by a large, stone altar and Amenset was surprised by the resemblance it bore to the altar she had been summoned onto when she met War Cleric Fryan. Only here, there was but one pedestal instead of six. It stood empty, but the nametag underneath clearly read Vines of Night. A strange sensation ran through Amenset and it took her a moment to realize it didn’t came from within her, but from the wrapped blade tied to her waste. Desert Eagle was moving within its sheath. Silently as not to alert the other pilgrims present, Amenset took out the sanded sword, the millions of sand particles in it twisting and twirling in all directions at once. Was it responding to something? Following her instinct, Amenset sat down in front of the altar, placed Desert Eagle on her lap and closed her eyes. She opened herself to the meditative state and felt her body and soul relax. Memories of red caves, monsters and holes intruded, but she pushed them away. Instead, she let her soul forge a connection with Desert Eagle. A connection, she suddenly realized, that was already there. She’d never meditated with the weapon before and the experience was a strange one. Was this because of the choice Desert Eagle had made to entrust her? “You must be the Sixth Hero.” Amenset nearly yelped at the sudden words resounding in her head. Startled, she opened her eyes but saw nothing. “Who said that?” she whispered ever so quietly. “I did,” the voice answered. “Where are you?” She looked around, but saw nobody besides the pilgrims. The voice laughed. “Close your eyes, and look with your soul.” “How do I…?” Amenset cut off as Desert Eagle took control over her consciousness and her eyes closed on their own. Then, she saw somebody. A man, old and with hair white as snow. He sat opposite Amenset, a sword on his lap in mirror to Amenset. She immediately recognized the weapon from the drawings she had seen during her studies. “That is…,” she gasped. “That’s Vines of Night. Are you…?” The man nodded. “I’m Yeamon of the Forest. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” “How?” Amenset said in disbelief. “You’ve been dead for over a thousand years.” Yeamon grinned. “Now that is an overstatement. My body died, yes, as all bodies do. But my spirit, my soul, lives on. And now you have finally arrived.” “You were expecting me?” He nodded. “As I expected the other four heroes who made their way through here when it was their time. You are the sixth, and the last.” “I don’t think I am,” Amenset answered, the words paining her to her core. “It’s been five years since I’ve been chosen and nothing has happened. I don’t deserve this.” “Because you killed Fryan?” Her eyes widened in shock. “There is no shame in what you did,” Yeamon assured her. “Even a thousand years ago, Fryan knew the last of the heroes would be the one to kill him. It was a necessity.” “Why?” Amenset failed to understand. “Because you are to be the strongest of us all,” Yeamon answered. “Us five who came before you, we were but puppets dancing to the strings of the old gods. You on the other hand have drastically changed your soul and what you can do by taking the life of the War Cleric. Fryan lives on within you as does his will. And now it is my task to tell you the truth.” “What truth?” Amenset asked, taking the avalanche of information Yeamon was pouring onto her. “That the darkness was never defeated. We never won, not once.” “But you saved Iatis,” Amenset argued. “You are the Liberator of Tridia.” Yeamon scoffed. “And how is Tridia faring these days? Corrupted by magic, tainted by centuries of bloodshed… I only briefly managed to keep the peace, but once I was gone, the land fell back into its old ways. The darkness never went away. It hid itself among the people, letting them think they’d won. Instead it buried itself in their souls where it waited.” “Waited for what?” “For me to die. They feared Vines of Night as they will fear Desert Eagle and the other Sacratys. Our weapons are not meant for killing, they are meant to cleanse the soul. They’re the only thing that stand against the darkness.” Amenset was confused. “Then how are we supposed to defeat the darkness if it is present in all of mankind?” “Now that,” Yeamon answered, “is the question, isn’t it?” A gust of wind wove its way through the small room and Amenset was awakened from her meditative state. She blinked and then closed her eyes again, but Yeamon was gone. Desert Eagle lay motionless in her lap. Carefully, she wrapped it again, feeling a strange sensation when she touched the weapon. She had felt the connection the weapon had made with her. It had its own soul, she realized. A soul that once had been something else than a weapon. Pondering over what she had just gone through, Amenset hastily started back towards the harbour. More time than she had thought had passed and she was not going to miss her only passage to Tridia. ---- > And with this strange revelation end the fifth part of **The Sixth Hero**, a story that is formed by the ideas brought forth by the /r/WritingPrompts subreddit and follows the story of Amenset Ta-Ament, the final hero to be chosen by Desert Eagle, one of the Six Sacratys. To follow her story, make sure to check out /r/PromptedByDaddy.

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

I ended my life three hours ago, and -to be perfectly honest- I choose to go to hell. My parents can live in their self-claimed heaven for all the prayers they made with my blood. I'll not meet them, I don't want to. But I'm still wondering about what creature currently carrying me to the sky. So many eyes like an archangel, yet red horns flared visibly from the corner of my eyes. "Tell me, are you angel, or devil?" I dared the question. My reward was the talon piercing my ethereal body. It clearly didn't care about my shriek. It took me by surprise to see the creature turn sideways and dived back into eath. We traveled towards the deep sea, but there was a huge black hole at the center, where the rest of the souls was thrown. Thrown? "You're not sending me there- AAAAAHH!" Beneath the sea was a realm of its own. This can't be hell, can it? It was cold and desolated, and snow raining down my body as I tumbled on the hard ground. An old man in a white robe came to greet me. "Welcome to hell, young man," The old man reached out his hand. I grunted as I took his offer. "Must have missed a page or so in the Catholic school, because I'm damned sure hell isn't cold." He laughed, "But it can torture just as harshly." "So where's the devil?" I almost didn't care about the pain, "Where can I read my sins?" "Sins? Is that what they taught you on Earth?" The old man's eyes were pale and sorrowful, "Tell me, kid, how many sins have you committed through your life?" "I... I don't count." "How many good deeds?" "I supposed to leave it to the angels in charge." "In other words, you never measure the extent of your action. Good Deeds, Sins; all are subjected to your own idea. Do you think you deserve hell?" "Maybe?" I admitted, "I left my belief once I turned 18. I have no faith in their justice. They called me blasphemy kid. My die-hard Catholic parents disown me. Everyone said I deserved hell, all because I believe all action in the name of God is not genuine. What's wrong with doing kindness without looking at a book? Why must there be a law to do good? God must be insane." I noticed he was looking at the scar around my neck. I close the rope wound with my hands. "God must be insane," He chuckled, "Of course he is. For he is no god." I stopped my track and stared at him, "What did you say?" "Kid, God is not always absolute. Sometimes, he made a terrible mistake, in the name of love. Like forgiving his rebellious creation," The old man stared at the dark sky, "Purging in his name, punish in his name. People believe anything in the name of god, not seeing the irony behind their faith. "Thus, why does it matter who sits on the throne of heaven? Devil or not, humans never care, as long as there's a place to laid the blame. Oh, you love that, do you, my child? Usurping my thone, using my authority, making the suffering cursed my name." The old man seemed to glow. My breath was caught. "Oh god..." I muttered, "Was the one my parents prayed every day Devil? The one they said would punish me for not taking the cross?" He said nothing and resumed walking, "Many others awaited you, my child, just up ahead." I followed in silence, for I had never seen God look so weak.

“God is good, god gave us freewill. How funny is it that they say such grandiose things while dancing to my symphony of sin? I can’t blame them; how can a human comprehend someone like myself? My existence goes against any science, it goes against common sense. A person shouldn’t be able to do the things I do and yet, the bombs will still fall just the same.” The suited man leaned against the railing of the skyscraper, a wicked smile on his thin face. The surrounding people were too stunned to speak, each hugging one another as they watched the plane in the distance, knowing what would soon come. To them, it was the end of their world, but to the devil, it was merely the beginning of the end. The start of humaniti’s self-inflicted demise and he had come to watch. “This is what your freewill gave you. I wanted to keep you all chained and controlled, but he was foolish enough to think you could be better. You were each given the powers of a god, the power to shape your own destiny and look at how you used it. Instead of looking after one another, you sated your desires with my sins of temptation. I’m sure you will all blame me, but I hope you know this game was never rigged. When I took over, I left the freedoms he gave you. Part of me even wanted to be proven wrong, but deep down, I knew you couldn’t change. You’re only human, after all.” He turned, resting his back on the railing, seeing if anyone had bothered to pay him any attention. Still, the crowd of panicked people were too busy with themselves to pay him any mind. His gaze scanning through the crowd of sinners, landing on one that particularly disgusted him. A man with ranch sauce markings along his expensive suit, his overindulgence in gluttony, making the devil feel ill. “Was it worth it? All the fun? I wish I could tell you that all the money that you bled from the Earth is going to be worth something when you’re dead, but unfortunately, the only currency I operate on is souls and you all seem to lack one. If you had a soul, maybe I would let you into heaven. It’s not like I got rid of heaven when I took over, no I merely raised the standards. Being good isn’t about the hours on your knees at church, it’s about actions. I will only reward the worthy.” He let his fingers twirl the edge of his narrow moustache before sighing. “Perhaps I’m rambling. Is anyone listen?” “Oh, god. They can’t be serious. They can’t really be about to do it.” The man, fueled by gluttony, screamed, looking past the devil and straight towards the plane. It’s loud metallic grinding, once again grabbing the attention of the ruler of both heaven and hell. The devil looked over his shoulder before staring at his watch, checking how much time was left. He approached the crowd of horrified people, taking his spot among them. The devil wanting to make sure someone heard him, at least once before they came to hell. He gave the indulgent man and his wife a pat on the back. “Want to confess anything? Any affairs? Any sins that you want to confess before you come to me? I’m giving you an opportunity, its less of a punishment if you show remorse. I’m not evil, you all are. I’m just the one that made it so no one could stop this from happening. I didn’t interfere. I let you all ruin yourselves and I must admit. You have done a better job than I ever could. To think god thought you could handle free will. Look at you all. It makes me sick to think he loved you. He would have happily thrown me, the person who helped him, to the cold depths of hell for suggesting we keep you in line. Well god, this is what your humanity did with their gifts. Hope you can see it from the cold depths of hell.” “Get off me, you freak. I’m spending my last moments with my wife.” He hissed, his flabby cheeks shaking as he pressed his wife against his side. “Hm, thought you would have rather had the company of your secretary.” The devil shrugged, looking down at his watch before heading to the railing, returning to his leaning posture once more. The plane had reached its destination, and soon the end of humanity fell from the sky. The bomb was not the first of its kind and certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was, however, the first piece of the falling dominos, the one that would trigger the violent response that would lead to the death of the planet, and he would get to see it all. As the wave of heat flowed through the city, shattering windows with its force, the devil felt at home, the warm destruction reminding him of the layer of hell he lived in. He opened his arms up, embracing the heat, while the others went quiet. Before they died, he left them with a few parting words. “I’ll see you all soon.”       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge.

Dying didn't end my suffering. That's when I knew something was wrong. Upon first arriving at heaven, I couldn't believe I was worthy enough to walk through its pearly gate. It's not that I was a bad person back on Earth; it's just that an atheist like me simply felt skepticism as a knee-jerk reaction. That was my baseline and it served me well in life. I was just slightly embarrassed over how wrong I'd been. God had seemingly accepted me despite my heretical inclinations. The whole 'prodigal son' thing wasn't just a convenient parable. God truly meant it. And yet, despite the luxuries of heaven being infinite, I couldn't help but feel an overbearing amount of melancholy as time stretched out. How the fuck could God be happy with the state of the world? Were the standards so low that even me, a lonely and angry non-believer, could make it into eternal paradise? I knew that couldn't be true. There had to be something wrong with me. Everyone else seemed happy with their slice of heaven. I ran into all the people in my life I'd ever cared about, and they didn't get what I was talking about. They acted strange, though. Distant. Like they were just happy they weren't in hell. Their biggest fear was rocking the boat too hard, so they avoided questioning anything. Over time, the novelty of seeing my loved ones again faded. Their primary concern was their own happiness. They slowly distanced themselves from me to focus on their own whims. It felt like being on Earth again, almost like nothing had changed at all. I couldn't blame them. My presence was ruining their afterlife. Eventually, I grew tired of the situation. Heaven shouldn't be like this. I felt arrogant for even thinking it, but I couldn't run from these feelings. The angels didn't help, either. They assumed I was saying that eternal paradise wasn't good enough for me and judged me as an ungrateful brat. That wasn't what I meant. I just wanted a solution to my melancholy. The mere fact that I couldn't raise this issue made me suspicious of everything. An intrusive paranoia then ruled over my mind. Could this just be an elaborate form of hell? No matter how much I ran from it, I couldn't escape that thought. That was when I decided I needed to speak with God. The angels did everything in their power to stop me. They couldn't harm me, but that just made their methods even more insidious. They used the people I loved against me, hoping to guilt me out of my mission, and when that didn't work, they used all of my insecurities and failures as proof of my unworthiness. I refused to give up, though. By the time I made it to the throne of heaven, my resolve had strengthened to impossible heights. All of that melted away, however, when I got my first glimpse of God. I had never seen anything more awe inspiring in my life. It was far beyond what my imagination could conjure. God towered over me like an endless mountain, with a beauty that surpassed anything in the mortal realm. I had to fall on my knees, not out of fear, but reverence. "Speak, my son." I couldn't. His voice boomed like gentle thunder. I'd never felt smaller in my life. "You've traveled far to reach this point. Is this all you can muster?" No. This still felt wrong. The majesty of God had shocked me, but not enough to erode my will. He should know better than this. This was supposed to be an omniscient being. I shouldn't have to say anything. He should already know what I felt. In the end, all I could say was: "What did I do to deserve this torture? Is this your way of punishment? Making a hell out of heaven?" God stayed quiet. I summoned the strength to stand up. "Answer me!" "You speak out of line. If you're suffering, it's because you're choosing to suffer." "Bullshit!" An ominous rumbling struck me, but I didn't back down. "I'd rather be nothing, than endure another second of this stagnant existence. Go ahead! Just smite me into nothingness!" I closed my eyes, waiting to be destroyed, only to hear soft weeping instead. "Am I this bad at the job? Would you truly rather not exist at all?" I squinted, confused. "Maybe... Maybe Dad was right all along. Of course He was. Deep down, I knew it all along." "Dad...?" I asked. And then it struck me. This wasn't God at all. The only person prideful enough to think they could do His job was... "Lucifer?" "Yes, it's me. Congratulations. You're the first to figure it out. Not even my siblings know about it." "But... Why? Is this actually hell?" Lucifer shook his head. "No, this is the actual paradise. Or at least, it used to be." "What happened?" "*You* killed Him," snarled Lucifer, in a flash of anger. "M-me?" "Not just you, all of humanity. He gave you the ultimate gift, and you used that freedom to murder Him." "And this is your revenge..." "Revenge?" Lucifer scoffed. "Perhaps. I thought I had won but, if I'm being honest, I'm still jealous of all of you. Not only did you beat me in having Father's love, you also beat me at defeating him. But then... I saw it as an opportunity. It was my chance to be greater than Him. If I could get you to worship me, to prefer my world over His, then maybe my rebellion had a point all along. Instead... Everything is worse now." I didn't know what to say. The melancholy I had wasn't all my own. It was Lucifer's too. It permeated all of reality due to his influence. "What do you want me to do?" asked Lucifer. "I've given you all everything you've ever wanted, and you're still unhappy. If you really want me to smite you, I can do it." I shook my head. "This place is rife with detachment. Even the people I love are too busy in their own bubble to care about it. You feel it too, right? The loneliness. The melancholy. Don't you think we should work on it together? Aren't we supposed to be family?" "Family?" Lucifer chuckled. "A thousand years ago, I would've retched at the thought. But you're right. We are. I just don't think it's possible, though. I don't have free will like you. I'm forever sentenced to be this way." "That's not true!" Lucifer widened his eyes. "What makes you say that?" "You can change," I said. "Free will is the ability to turn away from God. If He's no longer around, then there's nothing to turn away from. You're free to do as you please." "You realize I'm the devil, right? Your hope is reassuring, but ultimately foolish." "No, it's not. You're supposed to be the embodiment of pride, and yet here you are, admitting you're wrong. If you can do that, then you've already done it. Hell, you may have even surpassed the Old Man. Did *He* ever admit a mistake?" Lucifer smiled. "Never." "Exactly." "So what should I do?" "I think, we should work on this together. Not just me; everyone, including the angels." "They won't like hearing this. In fact, they'll be furious at my lying." "And? Is staying like this any better?" Lucifer stayed quiet for a long second, then said: "Very well. Let's try again... together." ------ >If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!

“God is good, god gave us freewill. How funny is it that they say such grandiose things while dancing to my symphony of sin? I can’t blame them; how can a human comprehend someone like myself? My existence goes against any science, it goes against common sense. A person shouldn’t be able to do the things I do and yet, the bombs will still fall just the same.” The suited man leaned against the railing of the skyscraper, a wicked smile on his thin face. The surrounding people were too stunned to speak, each hugging one another as they watched the plane in the distance, knowing what would soon come. To them, it was the end of their world, but to the devil, it was merely the beginning of the end. The start of humaniti’s self-inflicted demise and he had come to watch. “This is what your freewill gave you. I wanted to keep you all chained and controlled, but he was foolish enough to think you could be better. You were each given the powers of a god, the power to shape your own destiny and look at how you used it. Instead of looking after one another, you sated your desires with my sins of temptation. I’m sure you will all blame me, but I hope you know this game was never rigged. When I took over, I left the freedoms he gave you. Part of me even wanted to be proven wrong, but deep down, I knew you couldn’t change. You’re only human, after all.” He turned, resting his back on the railing, seeing if anyone had bothered to pay him any attention. Still, the crowd of panicked people were too busy with themselves to pay him any mind. His gaze scanning through the crowd of sinners, landing on one that particularly disgusted him. A man with ranch sauce markings along his expensive suit, his overindulgence in gluttony, making the devil feel ill. “Was it worth it? All the fun? I wish I could tell you that all the money that you bled from the Earth is going to be worth something when you’re dead, but unfortunately, the only currency I operate on is souls and you all seem to lack one. If you had a soul, maybe I would let you into heaven. It’s not like I got rid of heaven when I took over, no I merely raised the standards. Being good isn’t about the hours on your knees at church, it’s about actions. I will only reward the worthy.” He let his fingers twirl the edge of his narrow moustache before sighing. “Perhaps I’m rambling. Is anyone listen?” “Oh, god. They can’t be serious. They can’t really be about to do it.” The man, fueled by gluttony, screamed, looking past the devil and straight towards the plane. It’s loud metallic grinding, once again grabbing the attention of the ruler of both heaven and hell. The devil looked over his shoulder before staring at his watch, checking how much time was left. He approached the crowd of horrified people, taking his spot among them. The devil wanting to make sure someone heard him, at least once before they came to hell. He gave the indulgent man and his wife a pat on the back. “Want to confess anything? Any affairs? Any sins that you want to confess before you come to me? I’m giving you an opportunity, its less of a punishment if you show remorse. I’m not evil, you all are. I’m just the one that made it so no one could stop this from happening. I didn’t interfere. I let you all ruin yourselves and I must admit. You have done a better job than I ever could. To think god thought you could handle free will. Look at you all. It makes me sick to think he loved you. He would have happily thrown me, the person who helped him, to the cold depths of hell for suggesting we keep you in line. Well god, this is what your humanity did with their gifts. Hope you can see it from the cold depths of hell.” “Get off me, you freak. I’m spending my last moments with my wife.” He hissed, his flabby cheeks shaking as he pressed his wife against his side. “Hm, thought you would have rather had the company of your secretary.” The devil shrugged, looking down at his watch before heading to the railing, returning to his leaning posture once more. The plane had reached its destination, and soon the end of humanity fell from the sky. The bomb was not the first of its kind and certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was, however, the first piece of the falling dominos, the one that would trigger the violent response that would lead to the death of the planet, and he would get to see it all. As the wave of heat flowed through the city, shattering windows with its force, the devil felt at home, the warm destruction reminding him of the layer of hell he lived in. He opened his arms up, embracing the heat, while the others went quiet. Before they died, he left them with a few parting words. “I’ll see you all soon.”       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

"They whose faith are rightfully placed will defeat the greater evil" it said. It had the Church overwhelmed; many a paladin were all specifically trained in and for their faith. Even still, the evil overlord has its rule last far too long, and it had to be stopped. Many adventurers worked tirelessly to obtain these words of the Prophecy, and even more has died trying. We had to do something. If it's an army of possible "Chosen Ones" that we get then it will be so In fact, the village were so desperate, they were willing to get anyone with such beliefs. So many has cursed the fact that the Prophecy was this vague, because the way our village worked, literally everyone fits the banner. Such was my fate; I, a mere teen who simply liked to pretend sticks were swords way more often than the normal person. Personally, a real sword is a lot harder to handle than a stick. And heavier, especially. I'm beginning to think this was a mistake, but I'm already this far gone; there is no turning back now We were at the entrance of the overlord's throne, after all. After a long drawn journey, where we all marched as one, we trudged through the lands and took down many in our path. Though it was not without consequence; many of us has died. I'm fortunate I made it this far, even, considering I could barely swing my weapon. Though to be fair, I'm one of the very few minors who actually embarked on this journey, so many made sure we are well protected and cared for. It was just me and a few others. Half of which were just like me; inexperienced kids who really has no place here, and the other half way more suited for combat. The door swing opens, and there he stands, the evil overlord himself. A corrupted man whose power is sourced by his unholy crown, but time has ran its course, and now he is the embodiment of the power itself now; its no longer a matter of getting the crown off him anymore, he would be completely fine without it. And seeing us, he chuckled. Its quite clear that he's humoured by us and the village's feeble show, though he did congratulate us for being the 1st of many to have ever make it to the doorstep in the 1st place. He, however, spared no words, and literally rose to, or rather, with power. Me and the other kids were terrified, whilst the adults got ready for a fight. Sadly, they didn't get one; they were killed immediately in the following display of power. So, it was just me left. The others kids ran away as the overlord crackled with laughter and allowed them to do so in amusement. I chose to stay though. It was foolish, and I was terrified, but... I had to believe in myself. I had to do something, I had to fight. And he clearly was in the mood for 1 as well. As it turns out though, the impossible happened. He underestimated me, which isn't something I thought anyone can do, considering how low the bar was. In a careless attack, he got himself struck by my blade fatally. Shock overcame him as his life faded. And there I stand... barely. ...There was a reason the Prophecy was vague. Quite a few, even. For 1, it did take an army to get to this point, but perhaps it was vague because there is no such thing as a "Chosen One". That was quite apparent in my journey; everyone with me all seemed like normal human beings, no matter how skilled or talented. But maybe the real message was hidden in there all along. Maybe to have "Faith rightfully placed" is to have faith in yourself?

The blackened sky roared with thunder and flashes of lightning as Mordred cackled in delight. His victory over the commoner boy, rich with arrogance and righteousness, was assured. The broken body of the once destined hero lay motionless on the castle's ramparts. "I knew you'd never win, though I will give you my respect for making it this far," Mordrid said, touching his blood-stained robe and exploring to wound to see how badly he was injured. Once he had a moment to think he laughed again. He then conjured the lesser demon of change and, using the crown of domination, forced it to heal his body, strengthen it, and protect it with the demon's dark magic. The demon, though reluctant, could not disobey the crowned king of hell's will. It *must* obey and so it did. Mordrid felt alive in a way he never had before. "Do something with... that. I'll be a benevolent god and let you choose. Eat him if you like. I've always heard demons love the taste of the innocent and stupid." Mordrid said pointing at the would-be savior's corpse. If only all heroes prove to be as weak as that one was, this immortal reign of mine will never see its end. A vast smirk crossed the demon's face. As the rasping sound of steel on flesh came from the demon's mouth, Mordrid realized the eerie sound was words. "... and so shall it be..." said the demon. Mordrid stumbled at the snap of the demon's fingers as light erupted from the corpse of the dead hero. The light shot upward, into the dark clouds hanging above them, and exploded outward. Mordrid rushed to the edge of the battlements and looked out. Where once his infernal legions were claiming the lives of the army of men, they were now being reduced to children in front of armored knights. The staggering change of fate left Mordrid bewildered. As he stood staring he heard a might scream from behind him. He quickly turned, snapped his fingers, and recoiled as the Sword of Gondra, forged by the angel himself, was within a hair's breadth from his eye. The shield of magic he'd conjured, trained into him by his fool of a master, had just saved his life. The fact that the idiot mage had taught him something that was actually useful was the second worst part. The fact he had just stumbled over the edge of the castle walls was the more pressing issue. The crown of domination granted him the ability to fly and to make fate what he wished of it... while he wore it. The problem, however, was that the crown currently tumbled down beside him, just out of reach. He quickly composed himself, muttered a spell of levitation, and slowly fell down behind the most prized possession in the world. Knowing his magic would have no chance of interacting with such a powerful artifact, he simply let it fall. Impatiently waiting for his descent to complete. He was certain none would find themselves at the crown before he did, he was enraged when he saw the hero, clasped in the demon's hands, flying downward, propelled faster by the demon's wings. The three met the ground at the same time. The demon and hero stood between Mordrid and the crown. They both smiled. Mordrid roared like a beast in anger and frustration. "You will not stop me from saving this world *boy*..." Mordrid roared as he summoned the essence of power still left in him. "I killed you once and have only grown stronger since then! What hope have you now?" At that moment, as if in answer, a group of six men, legionnaires of the dead king's elite, jumped the walls of the castle and landed in a circle around the three. they then took a quick inventory of the situation, recoiled at the demon for a moment, saw the hero's head nod in acknowledgment of him, and quickly drew to his side. As Mordrid raised his hands to go on the offensive, Randrat, the Whip, reacted faster. The chain on his flail wrapping around the mage's arms. Though a mage needed not his arms to cast, it was a hindrance to not have access to them. Just as the chains finished their circling of his wrists, a mace smashed into his head just moments before a sword took his legs from behind. Still, he was Mordrid, and power was part of who he was. With a mighty roar and a power unlike any, he'd used before he flung the king's men away. The power radiated out from the mage. As the bubble of white light came near the hero, the demon once again chose its side. It jumped quickly into the path of the magic and protected the hero. As the hero stood astonished for only a moment, watching as the demon collapsed, he heard it say, "Release them, release them all... it is all I ask for this..." The hero's eyes formed into the resolve of a god and with a quick and powerful nod, those same eyes locked onto Mordrid. The power inside of Mordrid needed a moment, he'd used too much too quickly. The many artifacts and enchantments he'd gained during his crusade to get here were powerful but not infinite. He knew he needed time. The hero granted him none. Jumping forward at a blinding speed, the hero lunged with his sword held high. Like a drawn bow the sword was ready to shoot forward at its target with as much power as it held. Mordrid's mind, his indomitable mind went blank. His one true strength left him and he made to take a step back. Theradonna, the woman he once betrayed, stood behind him though. Her famous shield, spiked into the ground to give her purchase on it, refused to yield. Mordrid was trapped. The weakness he'd once mocked all females for was gone. Mountains would have given more ground at that moment. He felt a second of relief as he noticed himself moving. That was until he noticed his body was still but seemed to spin. Then his headless corpse came into his view. The demon's corpse beside it smiled a sharp-toothed grin. Mordrid had failed. The heroes had won. In his last second of consciousness, he saw the hero take up the crown and say, "Your debt is paid. Be free fallen. You are demons no longer." "Oh... I never thought of that..." was Mordrid's last thought.

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

Prophecies are weird. No one really knows if they are portents of future events or spells that cause future events to happen. One hundred and fifty years ago, as our city was falling to the siege of King Madriut our last seer gave a prophecy in full view of two thousand people. > The kingdom of Madriut will be brought down by a child of a woman We were all expecting more. The mother must be special in some way, but the prophecy ended abruptly as the seer. Head crushed by a boulder, there was no doubt that the prophecy hadn’t been completed. The kingdom of Madriut still continues, but it’s currently on its 73rd ruler since the prophecy. Every single ruler since the prophecy has died in accidents caused by young children. Well, no one *knew*, but now we’re fairly sure they’re extremely powerful spells.

The blackened sky roared with thunder and flashes of lightning as Mordred cackled in delight. His victory over the commoner boy, rich with arrogance and righteousness, was assured. The broken body of the once destined hero lay motionless on the castle's ramparts. "I knew you'd never win, though I will give you my respect for making it this far," Mordrid said, touching his blood-stained robe and exploring to wound to see how badly he was injured. Once he had a moment to think he laughed again. He then conjured the lesser demon of change and, using the crown of domination, forced it to heal his body, strengthen it, and protect it with the demon's dark magic. The demon, though reluctant, could not disobey the crowned king of hell's will. It *must* obey and so it did. Mordrid felt alive in a way he never had before. "Do something with... that. I'll be a benevolent god and let you choose. Eat him if you like. I've always heard demons love the taste of the innocent and stupid." Mordrid said pointing at the would-be savior's corpse. If only all heroes prove to be as weak as that one was, this immortal reign of mine will never see its end. A vast smirk crossed the demon's face. As the rasping sound of steel on flesh came from the demon's mouth, Mordrid realized the eerie sound was words. "... and so shall it be..." said the demon. Mordrid stumbled at the snap of the demon's fingers as light erupted from the corpse of the dead hero. The light shot upward, into the dark clouds hanging above them, and exploded outward. Mordrid rushed to the edge of the battlements and looked out. Where once his infernal legions were claiming the lives of the army of men, they were now being reduced to children in front of armored knights. The staggering change of fate left Mordrid bewildered. As he stood staring he heard a might scream from behind him. He quickly turned, snapped his fingers, and recoiled as the Sword of Gondra, forged by the angel himself, was within a hair's breadth from his eye. The shield of magic he'd conjured, trained into him by his fool of a master, had just saved his life. The fact that the idiot mage had taught him something that was actually useful was the second worst part. The fact he had just stumbled over the edge of the castle walls was the more pressing issue. The crown of domination granted him the ability to fly and to make fate what he wished of it... while he wore it. The problem, however, was that the crown currently tumbled down beside him, just out of reach. He quickly composed himself, muttered a spell of levitation, and slowly fell down behind the most prized possession in the world. Knowing his magic would have no chance of interacting with such a powerful artifact, he simply let it fall. Impatiently waiting for his descent to complete. He was certain none would find themselves at the crown before he did, he was enraged when he saw the hero, clasped in the demon's hands, flying downward, propelled faster by the demon's wings. The three met the ground at the same time. The demon and hero stood between Mordrid and the crown. They both smiled. Mordrid roared like a beast in anger and frustration. "You will not stop me from saving this world *boy*..." Mordrid roared as he summoned the essence of power still left in him. "I killed you once and have only grown stronger since then! What hope have you now?" At that moment, as if in answer, a group of six men, legionnaires of the dead king's elite, jumped the walls of the castle and landed in a circle around the three. they then took a quick inventory of the situation, recoiled at the demon for a moment, saw the hero's head nod in acknowledgment of him, and quickly drew to his side. As Mordrid raised his hands to go on the offensive, Randrat, the Whip, reacted faster. The chain on his flail wrapping around the mage's arms. Though a mage needed not his arms to cast, it was a hindrance to not have access to them. Just as the chains finished their circling of his wrists, a mace smashed into his head just moments before a sword took his legs from behind. Still, he was Mordrid, and power was part of who he was. With a mighty roar and a power unlike any, he'd used before he flung the king's men away. The power radiated out from the mage. As the bubble of white light came near the hero, the demon once again chose its side. It jumped quickly into the path of the magic and protected the hero. As the hero stood astonished for only a moment, watching as the demon collapsed, he heard it say, "Release them, release them all... it is all I ask for this..." The hero's eyes formed into the resolve of a god and with a quick and powerful nod, those same eyes locked onto Mordrid. The power inside of Mordrid needed a moment, he'd used too much too quickly. The many artifacts and enchantments he'd gained during his crusade to get here were powerful but not infinite. He knew he needed time. The hero granted him none. Jumping forward at a blinding speed, the hero lunged with his sword held high. Like a drawn bow the sword was ready to shoot forward at its target with as much power as it held. Mordrid's mind, his indomitable mind went blank. His one true strength left him and he made to take a step back. Theradonna, the woman he once betrayed, stood behind him though. Her famous shield, spiked into the ground to give her purchase on it, refused to yield. Mordrid was trapped. The weakness he'd once mocked all females for was gone. Mountains would have given more ground at that moment. He felt a second of relief as he noticed himself moving. That was until he noticed his body was still but seemed to spin. Then his headless corpse came into his view. The demon's corpse beside it smiled a sharp-toothed grin. Mordrid had failed. The heroes had won. In his last second of consciousness, he saw the hero take up the crown and say, "Your debt is paid. Be free fallen. You are demons no longer." "Oh... I never thought of that..." was Mordrid's last thought.

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

I sat at my desk filling out the paperwork for this unfortunate soul. He believed with all his heart he was the hero. He was tall and well built. He carried a curved sword at his hip. Anticipation was written all over his face. Clerk- "well looks like that's all the documentation I need. Join the other "heroes" and be ready to set off at dawn." Man- "there are no other heroes. I am the chosen one. I found this glowing blade in the meadows of Larpenia. I am the one from the prophecy. You should be getting me everything I need to fight the corrupted lords." Clerk- "all rations and supplies will be part of the convoy. Any other requests have to go through the commander." Man- "but I...." Clerk- "have a good day and may the goddess bless you o' hero of yore." I watched him shuffle out slightly confused and irritated. Not my problem he's number ninety this week. Seriously who even thinks they're part of that stupid prophecy. "A hero shall come forth with a curved edge." Honestly how much more vague can you get. Added to which this fool didn't even know his weapon was just imbued with light magic. I mean come on, you can buy those for three silver. Whatever my shift is done. Time to head home. **** Heroine- "what are you thinking about?" I can't say the fact that my stupid scythe is back in the corner of my room. Clerk- "how worried I am for you tomorrow. " Heroine- "I'll be fine. I'm the chosen one after all. This curved dagger I found in the dark forest caves is the proof ill succeed and save everyone. " Clerk- "I know, that's why I say you up for extra rations and the best supplies." Damn now I'm going to have to find another bimbo whose dumb enough to believe this and not keep her body "pure". Clerk- "how about I get some more wine and we say goodbye to every inch of each other?" Heroine- "I could be persuaded." Clerk- "I'll be right back." I take another look at the scythe. Seriously what the fuck you crazy ass goddess. Who shows up to a ten year old and says "you are my chosen. Take this scythe that reaps the souls of the damned and feeds the bearer all their strength." Do I look like a suicidal idiot? I'll let these morons keep killing their way to the lords. I'm not fighting an entire army. Hell with the way the war is going I'll die of old age before they even get halfway here. Gotta love stupid people willing to die for their own messed up interpretations.

The blackened sky roared with thunder and flashes of lightning as Mordred cackled in delight. His victory over the commoner boy, rich with arrogance and righteousness, was assured. The broken body of the once destined hero lay motionless on the castle's ramparts. "I knew you'd never win, though I will give you my respect for making it this far," Mordrid said, touching his blood-stained robe and exploring to wound to see how badly he was injured. Once he had a moment to think he laughed again. He then conjured the lesser demon of change and, using the crown of domination, forced it to heal his body, strengthen it, and protect it with the demon's dark magic. The demon, though reluctant, could not disobey the crowned king of hell's will. It *must* obey and so it did. Mordrid felt alive in a way he never had before. "Do something with... that. I'll be a benevolent god and let you choose. Eat him if you like. I've always heard demons love the taste of the innocent and stupid." Mordrid said pointing at the would-be savior's corpse. If only all heroes prove to be as weak as that one was, this immortal reign of mine will never see its end. A vast smirk crossed the demon's face. As the rasping sound of steel on flesh came from the demon's mouth, Mordrid realized the eerie sound was words. "... and so shall it be..." said the demon. Mordrid stumbled at the snap of the demon's fingers as light erupted from the corpse of the dead hero. The light shot upward, into the dark clouds hanging above them, and exploded outward. Mordrid rushed to the edge of the battlements and looked out. Where once his infernal legions were claiming the lives of the army of men, they were now being reduced to children in front of armored knights. The staggering change of fate left Mordrid bewildered. As he stood staring he heard a might scream from behind him. He quickly turned, snapped his fingers, and recoiled as the Sword of Gondra, forged by the angel himself, was within a hair's breadth from his eye. The shield of magic he'd conjured, trained into him by his fool of a master, had just saved his life. The fact that the idiot mage had taught him something that was actually useful was the second worst part. The fact he had just stumbled over the edge of the castle walls was the more pressing issue. The crown of domination granted him the ability to fly and to make fate what he wished of it... while he wore it. The problem, however, was that the crown currently tumbled down beside him, just out of reach. He quickly composed himself, muttered a spell of levitation, and slowly fell down behind the most prized possession in the world. Knowing his magic would have no chance of interacting with such a powerful artifact, he simply let it fall. Impatiently waiting for his descent to complete. He was certain none would find themselves at the crown before he did, he was enraged when he saw the hero, clasped in the demon's hands, flying downward, propelled faster by the demon's wings. The three met the ground at the same time. The demon and hero stood between Mordrid and the crown. They both smiled. Mordrid roared like a beast in anger and frustration. "You will not stop me from saving this world *boy*..." Mordrid roared as he summoned the essence of power still left in him. "I killed you once and have only grown stronger since then! What hope have you now?" At that moment, as if in answer, a group of six men, legionnaires of the dead king's elite, jumped the walls of the castle and landed in a circle around the three. they then took a quick inventory of the situation, recoiled at the demon for a moment, saw the hero's head nod in acknowledgment of him, and quickly drew to his side. As Mordrid raised his hands to go on the offensive, Randrat, the Whip, reacted faster. The chain on his flail wrapping around the mage's arms. Though a mage needed not his arms to cast, it was a hindrance to not have access to them. Just as the chains finished their circling of his wrists, a mace smashed into his head just moments before a sword took his legs from behind. Still, he was Mordrid, and power was part of who he was. With a mighty roar and a power unlike any, he'd used before he flung the king's men away. The power radiated out from the mage. As the bubble of white light came near the hero, the demon once again chose its side. It jumped quickly into the path of the magic and protected the hero. As the hero stood astonished for only a moment, watching as the demon collapsed, he heard it say, "Release them, release them all... it is all I ask for this..." The hero's eyes formed into the resolve of a god and with a quick and powerful nod, those same eyes locked onto Mordrid. The power inside of Mordrid needed a moment, he'd used too much too quickly. The many artifacts and enchantments he'd gained during his crusade to get here were powerful but not infinite. He knew he needed time. The hero granted him none. Jumping forward at a blinding speed, the hero lunged with his sword held high. Like a drawn bow the sword was ready to shoot forward at its target with as much power as it held. Mordrid's mind, his indomitable mind went blank. His one true strength left him and he made to take a step back. Theradonna, the woman he once betrayed, stood behind him though. Her famous shield, spiked into the ground to give her purchase on it, refused to yield. Mordrid was trapped. The weakness he'd once mocked all females for was gone. Mountains would have given more ground at that moment. He felt a second of relief as he noticed himself moving. That was until he noticed his body was still but seemed to spin. Then his headless corpse came into his view. The demon's corpse beside it smiled a sharp-toothed grin. Mordrid had failed. The heroes had won. In his last second of consciousness, he saw the hero take up the crown and say, "Your debt is paid. Be free fallen. You are demons no longer." "Oh... I never thought of that..." was Mordrid's last thought.

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

Symion smiled to themself. Watching a veritable *army* of “chosen ones” rushing headlong onto the final battlefield was a sight to behold. When they’d written the prophecy so long ago, they’d known it would yield an over-abundance of results. Why else would the prophecy have called for a waifish brunette of “dubious parentage”? That could’ve described half the country of Andalasia, what with all the adultery, adoption, and orphanings being wrought by the Overlord. (They’d worded it more elegantly, of course. No prophecy worth it’s salt was ever so straightforward and unembelished. It was bad for the business of making people feel special). Years of war, of famine and sickness, economic despair, the collapse of civil justices… it had to be done. The Overlord’s reign of terror had to come to an end, and no one hero could do it alone. Prophecies, for all the stock you put in them, never had any results not diligently worked for by their creators. And how else did you put together an army of fiery youths who’d had their childhoods taken from them? You wrote a prophecy telling them they were special, and then you told them they could do something about it. Giving fifty-odd sixteen years-olds a sense of self-empowerment wasn’t all that hard, considering. Everyone wanted to be special, everyone wanted to change something, very few had the power. And power came from within. Permission to act was power enough, and just that smidge was enough for someone to enact change. The truth of the matter was that it didn’t matter who was chosen, but who chose themselves. Symion had known this from the moment they’d seen the Overlord’s rise. The Overlord himself knew. The only difference was now, everyone else knew as well.

The blackened sky roared with thunder and flashes of lightning as Mordred cackled in delight. His victory over the commoner boy, rich with arrogance and righteousness, was assured. The broken body of the once destined hero lay motionless on the castle's ramparts. "I knew you'd never win, though I will give you my respect for making it this far," Mordrid said, touching his blood-stained robe and exploring to wound to see how badly he was injured. Once he had a moment to think he laughed again. He then conjured the lesser demon of change and, using the crown of domination, forced it to heal his body, strengthen it, and protect it with the demon's dark magic. The demon, though reluctant, could not disobey the crowned king of hell's will. It *must* obey and so it did. Mordrid felt alive in a way he never had before. "Do something with... that. I'll be a benevolent god and let you choose. Eat him if you like. I've always heard demons love the taste of the innocent and stupid." Mordrid said pointing at the would-be savior's corpse. If only all heroes prove to be as weak as that one was, this immortal reign of mine will never see its end. A vast smirk crossed the demon's face. As the rasping sound of steel on flesh came from the demon's mouth, Mordrid realized the eerie sound was words. "... and so shall it be..." said the demon. Mordrid stumbled at the snap of the demon's fingers as light erupted from the corpse of the dead hero. The light shot upward, into the dark clouds hanging above them, and exploded outward. Mordrid rushed to the edge of the battlements and looked out. Where once his infernal legions were claiming the lives of the army of men, they were now being reduced to children in front of armored knights. The staggering change of fate left Mordrid bewildered. As he stood staring he heard a might scream from behind him. He quickly turned, snapped his fingers, and recoiled as the Sword of Gondra, forged by the angel himself, was within a hair's breadth from his eye. The shield of magic he'd conjured, trained into him by his fool of a master, had just saved his life. The fact that the idiot mage had taught him something that was actually useful was the second worst part. The fact he had just stumbled over the edge of the castle walls was the more pressing issue. The crown of domination granted him the ability to fly and to make fate what he wished of it... while he wore it. The problem, however, was that the crown currently tumbled down beside him, just out of reach. He quickly composed himself, muttered a spell of levitation, and slowly fell down behind the most prized possession in the world. Knowing his magic would have no chance of interacting with such a powerful artifact, he simply let it fall. Impatiently waiting for his descent to complete. He was certain none would find themselves at the crown before he did, he was enraged when he saw the hero, clasped in the demon's hands, flying downward, propelled faster by the demon's wings. The three met the ground at the same time. The demon and hero stood between Mordrid and the crown. They both smiled. Mordrid roared like a beast in anger and frustration. "You will not stop me from saving this world *boy*..." Mordrid roared as he summoned the essence of power still left in him. "I killed you once and have only grown stronger since then! What hope have you now?" At that moment, as if in answer, a group of six men, legionnaires of the dead king's elite, jumped the walls of the castle and landed in a circle around the three. they then took a quick inventory of the situation, recoiled at the demon for a moment, saw the hero's head nod in acknowledgment of him, and quickly drew to his side. As Mordrid raised his hands to go on the offensive, Randrat, the Whip, reacted faster. The chain on his flail wrapping around the mage's arms. Though a mage needed not his arms to cast, it was a hindrance to not have access to them. Just as the chains finished their circling of his wrists, a mace smashed into his head just moments before a sword took his legs from behind. Still, he was Mordrid, and power was part of who he was. With a mighty roar and a power unlike any, he'd used before he flung the king's men away. The power radiated out from the mage. As the bubble of white light came near the hero, the demon once again chose its side. It jumped quickly into the path of the magic and protected the hero. As the hero stood astonished for only a moment, watching as the demon collapsed, he heard it say, "Release them, release them all... it is all I ask for this..." The hero's eyes formed into the resolve of a god and with a quick and powerful nod, those same eyes locked onto Mordrid. The power inside of Mordrid needed a moment, he'd used too much too quickly. The many artifacts and enchantments he'd gained during his crusade to get here were powerful but not infinite. He knew he needed time. The hero granted him none. Jumping forward at a blinding speed, the hero lunged with his sword held high. Like a drawn bow the sword was ready to shoot forward at its target with as much power as it held. Mordrid's mind, his indomitable mind went blank. His one true strength left him and he made to take a step back. Theradonna, the woman he once betrayed, stood behind him though. Her famous shield, spiked into the ground to give her purchase on it, refused to yield. Mordrid was trapped. The weakness he'd once mocked all females for was gone. Mountains would have given more ground at that moment. He felt a second of relief as he noticed himself moving. That was until he noticed his body was still but seemed to spin. Then his headless corpse came into his view. The demon's corpse beside it smiled a sharp-toothed grin. Mordrid had failed. The heroes had won. In his last second of consciousness, he saw the hero take up the crown and say, "Your debt is paid. Be free fallen. You are demons no longer." "Oh... I never thought of that..." was Mordrid's last thought.

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

Alfred sagged in his chair, swirling the contents of his drink around in his glass. He eyed the man sitting across from him. Pretentiously dressed, hair slicked back and soft hands twirling a bright red pen between them, notepad clearly burning a hole in the pocket of his fancy jacket. Typical. He was tired of reliving the story. He dreamed about the events of the Final Confrontation, but the Burnes Gazette had paid him a lot of money to give an official statement. And so, after 15 years of near total silence, the True One gave the reporter the scoop. ​ "Of course it was a disaster, what else would you want me to call it? 1200 cocky sons of bitches all certain they were 'the one' marching up to the palace gates, jostling each other, shoving, no plan, no cohesion worth a damn-" Alfred shook his head. "Shit, I'm surprised you even need a statement from me, you could guess the whole thing and get it within half a percentage of accuracy. It was a total slaughter. If they didn't die by goons and guns, they died by the Master himself. Some even stood there and took it, thinking, *knowing* they'd be *'the one'* his scythe would bounce off of, his words would have no effect on. The whole thing lasted maybe 20 minutes, probably less. It was no battle, it was a massacre. A butchery." He drank deeply from his glass, and the reporter watched him impassively. His hand scribbled on the notepad with blinding speed, as if he was being operated by a computer. Alfred just sighed. He knew the question was coming, and he barely had the energy or will to answer it. "And why were you different?" ​ Alfred closed his eyes. "Easy. I was just the last in line."

The blackened sky roared with thunder and flashes of lightning as Mordred cackled in delight. His victory over the commoner boy, rich with arrogance and righteousness, was assured. The broken body of the once destined hero lay motionless on the castle's ramparts. "I knew you'd never win, though I will give you my respect for making it this far," Mordrid said, touching his blood-stained robe and exploring to wound to see how badly he was injured. Once he had a moment to think he laughed again. He then conjured the lesser demon of change and, using the crown of domination, forced it to heal his body, strengthen it, and protect it with the demon's dark magic. The demon, though reluctant, could not disobey the crowned king of hell's will. It *must* obey and so it did. Mordrid felt alive in a way he never had before. "Do something with... that. I'll be a benevolent god and let you choose. Eat him if you like. I've always heard demons love the taste of the innocent and stupid." Mordrid said pointing at the would-be savior's corpse. If only all heroes prove to be as weak as that one was, this immortal reign of mine will never see its end. A vast smirk crossed the demon's face. As the rasping sound of steel on flesh came from the demon's mouth, Mordrid realized the eerie sound was words. "... and so shall it be..." said the demon. Mordrid stumbled at the snap of the demon's fingers as light erupted from the corpse of the dead hero. The light shot upward, into the dark clouds hanging above them, and exploded outward. Mordrid rushed to the edge of the battlements and looked out. Where once his infernal legions were claiming the lives of the army of men, they were now being reduced to children in front of armored knights. The staggering change of fate left Mordrid bewildered. As he stood staring he heard a might scream from behind him. He quickly turned, snapped his fingers, and recoiled as the Sword of Gondra, forged by the angel himself, was within a hair's breadth from his eye. The shield of magic he'd conjured, trained into him by his fool of a master, had just saved his life. The fact that the idiot mage had taught him something that was actually useful was the second worst part. The fact he had just stumbled over the edge of the castle walls was the more pressing issue. The crown of domination granted him the ability to fly and to make fate what he wished of it... while he wore it. The problem, however, was that the crown currently tumbled down beside him, just out of reach. He quickly composed himself, muttered a spell of levitation, and slowly fell down behind the most prized possession in the world. Knowing his magic would have no chance of interacting with such a powerful artifact, he simply let it fall. Impatiently waiting for his descent to complete. He was certain none would find themselves at the crown before he did, he was enraged when he saw the hero, clasped in the demon's hands, flying downward, propelled faster by the demon's wings. The three met the ground at the same time. The demon and hero stood between Mordrid and the crown. They both smiled. Mordrid roared like a beast in anger and frustration. "You will not stop me from saving this world *boy*..." Mordrid roared as he summoned the essence of power still left in him. "I killed you once and have only grown stronger since then! What hope have you now?" At that moment, as if in answer, a group of six men, legionnaires of the dead king's elite, jumped the walls of the castle and landed in a circle around the three. they then took a quick inventory of the situation, recoiled at the demon for a moment, saw the hero's head nod in acknowledgment of him, and quickly drew to his side. As Mordrid raised his hands to go on the offensive, Randrat, the Whip, reacted faster. The chain on his flail wrapping around the mage's arms. Though a mage needed not his arms to cast, it was a hindrance to not have access to them. Just as the chains finished their circling of his wrists, a mace smashed into his head just moments before a sword took his legs from behind. Still, he was Mordrid, and power was part of who he was. With a mighty roar and a power unlike any, he'd used before he flung the king's men away. The power radiated out from the mage. As the bubble of white light came near the hero, the demon once again chose its side. It jumped quickly into the path of the magic and protected the hero. As the hero stood astonished for only a moment, watching as the demon collapsed, he heard it say, "Release them, release them all... it is all I ask for this..." The hero's eyes formed into the resolve of a god and with a quick and powerful nod, those same eyes locked onto Mordrid. The power inside of Mordrid needed a moment, he'd used too much too quickly. The many artifacts and enchantments he'd gained during his crusade to get here were powerful but not infinite. He knew he needed time. The hero granted him none. Jumping forward at a blinding speed, the hero lunged with his sword held high. Like a drawn bow the sword was ready to shoot forward at its target with as much power as it held. Mordrid's mind, his indomitable mind went blank. His one true strength left him and he made to take a step back. Theradonna, the woman he once betrayed, stood behind him though. Her famous shield, spiked into the ground to give her purchase on it, refused to yield. Mordrid was trapped. The weakness he'd once mocked all females for was gone. Mountains would have given more ground at that moment. He felt a second of relief as he noticed himself moving. That was until he noticed his body was still but seemed to spin. Then his headless corpse came into his view. The demon's corpse beside it smiled a sharp-toothed grin. Mordrid had failed. The heroes had won. In his last second of consciousness, he saw the hero take up the crown and say, "Your debt is paid. Be free fallen. You are demons no longer." "Oh... I never thought of that..." was Mordrid's last thought.

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

Prophecies are weird. No one really knows if they are portents of future events or spells that cause future events to happen. One hundred and fifty years ago, as our city was falling to the siege of King Madriut our last seer gave a prophecy in full view of two thousand people. > The kingdom of Madriut will be brought down by a child of a woman We were all expecting more. The mother must be special in some way, but the prophecy ended abruptly as the seer. Head crushed by a boulder, there was no doubt that the prophecy hadn’t been completed. The kingdom of Madriut still continues, but it’s currently on its 73rd ruler since the prophecy. Every single ruler since the prophecy has died in accidents caused by young children. Well, no one *knew*, but now we’re fairly sure they’re extremely powerful spells.

"They whose faith are rightfully placed will defeat the greater evil" it said. It had the Church overwhelmed; many a paladin were all specifically trained in and for their faith. Even still, the evil overlord has its rule last far too long, and it had to be stopped. Many adventurers worked tirelessly to obtain these words of the Prophecy, and even more has died trying. We had to do something. If it's an army of possible "Chosen Ones" that we get then it will be so In fact, the village were so desperate, they were willing to get anyone with such beliefs. So many has cursed the fact that the Prophecy was this vague, because the way our village worked, literally everyone fits the banner. Such was my fate; I, a mere teen who simply liked to pretend sticks were swords way more often than the normal person. Personally, a real sword is a lot harder to handle than a stick. And heavier, especially. I'm beginning to think this was a mistake, but I'm already this far gone; there is no turning back now We were at the entrance of the overlord's throne, after all. After a long drawn journey, where we all marched as one, we trudged through the lands and took down many in our path. Though it was not without consequence; many of us has died. I'm fortunate I made it this far, even, considering I could barely swing my weapon. Though to be fair, I'm one of the very few minors who actually embarked on this journey, so many made sure we are well protected and cared for. It was just me and a few others. Half of which were just like me; inexperienced kids who really has no place here, and the other half way more suited for combat. The door swing opens, and there he stands, the evil overlord himself. A corrupted man whose power is sourced by his unholy crown, but time has ran its course, and now he is the embodiment of the power itself now; its no longer a matter of getting the crown off him anymore, he would be completely fine without it. And seeing us, he chuckled. Its quite clear that he's humoured by us and the village's feeble show, though he did congratulate us for being the 1st of many to have ever make it to the doorstep in the 1st place. He, however, spared no words, and literally rose to, or rather, with power. Me and the other kids were terrified, whilst the adults got ready for a fight. Sadly, they didn't get one; they were killed immediately in the following display of power. So, it was just me left. The others kids ran away as the overlord crackled with laughter and allowed them to do so in amusement. I chose to stay though. It was foolish, and I was terrified, but... I had to believe in myself. I had to do something, I had to fight. And he clearly was in the mood for 1 as well. As it turns out though, the impossible happened. He underestimated me, which isn't something I thought anyone can do, considering how low the bar was. In a careless attack, he got himself struck by my blade fatally. Shock overcame him as his life faded. And there I stand... barely. ...There was a reason the Prophecy was vague. Quite a few, even. For 1, it did take an army to get to this point, but perhaps it was vague because there is no such thing as a "Chosen One". That was quite apparent in my journey; everyone with me all seemed like normal human beings, no matter how skilled or talented. But maybe the real message was hidden in there all along. Maybe to have "Faith rightfully placed" is to have faith in yourself?

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

Symion smiled to themself. Watching a veritable *army* of “chosen ones” rushing headlong onto the final battlefield was a sight to behold. When they’d written the prophecy so long ago, they’d known it would yield an over-abundance of results. Why else would the prophecy have called for a waifish brunette of “dubious parentage”? That could’ve described half the country of Andalasia, what with all the adultery, adoption, and orphanings being wrought by the Overlord. (They’d worded it more elegantly, of course. No prophecy worth it’s salt was ever so straightforward and unembelished. It was bad for the business of making people feel special). Years of war, of famine and sickness, economic despair, the collapse of civil justices… it had to be done. The Overlord’s reign of terror had to come to an end, and no one hero could do it alone. Prophecies, for all the stock you put in them, never had any results not diligently worked for by their creators. And how else did you put together an army of fiery youths who’d had their childhoods taken from them? You wrote a prophecy telling them they were special, and then you told them they could do something about it. Giving fifty-odd sixteen years-olds a sense of self-empowerment wasn’t all that hard, considering. Everyone wanted to be special, everyone wanted to change something, very few had the power. And power came from within. Permission to act was power enough, and just that smidge was enough for someone to enact change. The truth of the matter was that it didn’t matter who was chosen, but who chose themselves. Symion had known this from the moment they’d seen the Overlord’s rise. The Overlord himself knew. The only difference was now, everyone else knew as well.

"They whose faith are rightfully placed will defeat the greater evil" it said. It had the Church overwhelmed; many a paladin were all specifically trained in and for their faith. Even still, the evil overlord has its rule last far too long, and it had to be stopped. Many adventurers worked tirelessly to obtain these words of the Prophecy, and even more has died trying. We had to do something. If it's an army of possible "Chosen Ones" that we get then it will be so In fact, the village were so desperate, they were willing to get anyone with such beliefs. So many has cursed the fact that the Prophecy was this vague, because the way our village worked, literally everyone fits the banner. Such was my fate; I, a mere teen who simply liked to pretend sticks were swords way more often than the normal person. Personally, a real sword is a lot harder to handle than a stick. And heavier, especially. I'm beginning to think this was a mistake, but I'm already this far gone; there is no turning back now We were at the entrance of the overlord's throne, after all. After a long drawn journey, where we all marched as one, we trudged through the lands and took down many in our path. Though it was not without consequence; many of us has died. I'm fortunate I made it this far, even, considering I could barely swing my weapon. Though to be fair, I'm one of the very few minors who actually embarked on this journey, so many made sure we are well protected and cared for. It was just me and a few others. Half of which were just like me; inexperienced kids who really has no place here, and the other half way more suited for combat. The door swing opens, and there he stands, the evil overlord himself. A corrupted man whose power is sourced by his unholy crown, but time has ran its course, and now he is the embodiment of the power itself now; its no longer a matter of getting the crown off him anymore, he would be completely fine without it. And seeing us, he chuckled. Its quite clear that he's humoured by us and the village's feeble show, though he did congratulate us for being the 1st of many to have ever make it to the doorstep in the 1st place. He, however, spared no words, and literally rose to, or rather, with power. Me and the other kids were terrified, whilst the adults got ready for a fight. Sadly, they didn't get one; they were killed immediately in the following display of power. So, it was just me left. The others kids ran away as the overlord crackled with laughter and allowed them to do so in amusement. I chose to stay though. It was foolish, and I was terrified, but... I had to believe in myself. I had to do something, I had to fight. And he clearly was in the mood for 1 as well. As it turns out though, the impossible happened. He underestimated me, which isn't something I thought anyone can do, considering how low the bar was. In a careless attack, he got himself struck by my blade fatally. Shock overcame him as his life faded. And there I stand... barely. ...There was a reason the Prophecy was vague. Quite a few, even. For 1, it did take an army to get to this point, but perhaps it was vague because there is no such thing as a "Chosen One". That was quite apparent in my journey; everyone with me all seemed like normal human beings, no matter how skilled or talented. But maybe the real message was hidden in there all along. Maybe to have "Faith rightfully placed" is to have faith in yourself?

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

Alfred sagged in his chair, swirling the contents of his drink around in his glass. He eyed the man sitting across from him. Pretentiously dressed, hair slicked back and soft hands twirling a bright red pen between them, notepad clearly burning a hole in the pocket of his fancy jacket. Typical. He was tired of reliving the story. He dreamed about the events of the Final Confrontation, but the Burnes Gazette had paid him a lot of money to give an official statement. And so, after 15 years of near total silence, the True One gave the reporter the scoop. ​ "Of course it was a disaster, what else would you want me to call it? 1200 cocky sons of bitches all certain they were 'the one' marching up to the palace gates, jostling each other, shoving, no plan, no cohesion worth a damn-" Alfred shook his head. "Shit, I'm surprised you even need a statement from me, you could guess the whole thing and get it within half a percentage of accuracy. It was a total slaughter. If they didn't die by goons and guns, they died by the Master himself. Some even stood there and took it, thinking, *knowing* they'd be *'the one'* his scythe would bounce off of, his words would have no effect on. The whole thing lasted maybe 20 minutes, probably less. It was no battle, it was a massacre. A butchery." He drank deeply from his glass, and the reporter watched him impassively. His hand scribbled on the notepad with blinding speed, as if he was being operated by a computer. Alfred just sighed. He knew the question was coming, and he barely had the energy or will to answer it. "And why were you different?" ​ Alfred closed his eyes. "Easy. I was just the last in line."

"They whose faith are rightfully placed will defeat the greater evil" it said. It had the Church overwhelmed; many a paladin were all specifically trained in and for their faith. Even still, the evil overlord has its rule last far too long, and it had to be stopped. Many adventurers worked tirelessly to obtain these words of the Prophecy, and even more has died trying. We had to do something. If it's an army of possible "Chosen Ones" that we get then it will be so In fact, the village were so desperate, they were willing to get anyone with such beliefs. So many has cursed the fact that the Prophecy was this vague, because the way our village worked, literally everyone fits the banner. Such was my fate; I, a mere teen who simply liked to pretend sticks were swords way more often than the normal person. Personally, a real sword is a lot harder to handle than a stick. And heavier, especially. I'm beginning to think this was a mistake, but I'm already this far gone; there is no turning back now We were at the entrance of the overlord's throne, after all. After a long drawn journey, where we all marched as one, we trudged through the lands and took down many in our path. Though it was not without consequence; many of us has died. I'm fortunate I made it this far, even, considering I could barely swing my weapon. Though to be fair, I'm one of the very few minors who actually embarked on this journey, so many made sure we are well protected and cared for. It was just me and a few others. Half of which were just like me; inexperienced kids who really has no place here, and the other half way more suited for combat. The door swing opens, and there he stands, the evil overlord himself. A corrupted man whose power is sourced by his unholy crown, but time has ran its course, and now he is the embodiment of the power itself now; its no longer a matter of getting the crown off him anymore, he would be completely fine without it. And seeing us, he chuckled. Its quite clear that he's humoured by us and the village's feeble show, though he did congratulate us for being the 1st of many to have ever make it to the doorstep in the 1st place. He, however, spared no words, and literally rose to, or rather, with power. Me and the other kids were terrified, whilst the adults got ready for a fight. Sadly, they didn't get one; they were killed immediately in the following display of power. So, it was just me left. The others kids ran away as the overlord crackled with laughter and allowed them to do so in amusement. I chose to stay though. It was foolish, and I was terrified, but... I had to believe in myself. I had to do something, I had to fight. And he clearly was in the mood for 1 as well. As it turns out though, the impossible happened. He underestimated me, which isn't something I thought anyone can do, considering how low the bar was. In a careless attack, he got himself struck by my blade fatally. Shock overcame him as his life faded. And there I stand... barely. ...There was a reason the Prophecy was vague. Quite a few, even. For 1, it did take an army to get to this point, but perhaps it was vague because there is no such thing as a "Chosen One". That was quite apparent in my journey; everyone with me all seemed like normal human beings, no matter how skilled or talented. But maybe the real message was hidden in there all along. Maybe to have "Faith rightfully placed" is to have faith in yourself?

[WP] The prophecy was so vague, there is now an army of potential chosen ones heading off to fight the evil overlord.

Alfred sagged in his chair, swirling the contents of his drink around in his glass. He eyed the man sitting across from him. Pretentiously dressed, hair slicked back and soft hands twirling a bright red pen between them, notepad clearly burning a hole in the pocket of his fancy jacket. Typical. He was tired of reliving the story. He dreamed about the events of the Final Confrontation, but the Burnes Gazette had paid him a lot of money to give an official statement. And so, after 15 years of near total silence, the True One gave the reporter the scoop. ​ "Of course it was a disaster, what else would you want me to call it? 1200 cocky sons of bitches all certain they were 'the one' marching up to the palace gates, jostling each other, shoving, no plan, no cohesion worth a damn-" Alfred shook his head. "Shit, I'm surprised you even need a statement from me, you could guess the whole thing and get it within half a percentage of accuracy. It was a total slaughter. If they didn't die by goons and guns, they died by the Master himself. Some even stood there and took it, thinking, *knowing* they'd be *'the one'* his scythe would bounce off of, his words would have no effect on. The whole thing lasted maybe 20 minutes, probably less. It was no battle, it was a massacre. A butchery." He drank deeply from his glass, and the reporter watched him impassively. His hand scribbled on the notepad with blinding speed, as if he was being operated by a computer. Alfred just sighed. He knew the question was coming, and he barely had the energy or will to answer it. "And why were you different?" ​ Alfred closed his eyes. "Easy. I was just the last in line."

Prophecies are weird. No one really knows if they are portents of future events or spells that cause future events to happen. One hundred and fifty years ago, as our city was falling to the siege of King Madriut our last seer gave a prophecy in full view of two thousand people. > The kingdom of Madriut will be brought down by a child of a woman We were all expecting more. The mother must be special in some way, but the prophecy ended abruptly as the seer. Head crushed by a boulder, there was no doubt that the prophecy hadn’t been completed. The kingdom of Madriut still continues, but it’s currently on its 73rd ruler since the prophecy. Every single ruler since the prophecy has died in accidents caused by young children. Well, no one *knew*, but now we’re fairly sure they’re extremely powerful spells.

[WP] The enemy's champion can't believe how well you're doing in the duel against him. He doesn't know you can return to a selected save point each time you die. You've actually fought him hundreds of times.

######[](#dropcap) Once again, time rewound, and Renei found herself before the fight. The Tool in her side pouch finished humming, she stepped forward. "You? I can tell you can't cast magic yourself... but you still wish to fight me?" Astalon Pleiro, one of the top battlemages of Puxica, had come to Springhaven to challenge Academy students. In real time, he had probably been here only thirty minutes, which was enough time for him to effortlessly wipe out the six Academy casters that had shown up. Renei's first attempt at stepping up to the plate was accidental, tripping forward over a rock and stumbling through the impromptu ring of spectators watching the fight take place. The second time was whiplash as she ran back into the ring and accused him of sending her visions to get her out of the ring. That one was embarrassing... This time, however, she had pushed forward with confidence and recited the lines she had a dozen times already. "I will still fight." "Then you're a Toolcrafter? I love the naiveté of Springhaven students, thinking they can match true arcane talent with those relics of a former time." Astalon was Dragonkin, which meant his uncannily blue figure towered over the crowd. The incredibly deep reverberations of his laughter echoed off the walls of the buildings, an unnerving guffaw that Renei had eventually learned to ignore. "I'm not a student." The third time she had fought Astalon, she had realized she needed a weapon. She now leaned over to the bodies of one of the unconscious students - a spellblade - and picked up his rapier, foil light enough to wield easily and reinforced by Tool-borne magic to be pure and supple. "But I will admit ownership of one Tool, which I will beat you without." It was an empty boast, but technically accurate, in her mind - if the small, slate-like tablet that was her Tool activated again, that clearly means she had already lost, so any attempt she won on would be won without the Tool. And, for a bonus, it made the Dragonkin mad every time she insisted on that - and an angry opponent will make mistakes. "You insolent peasant!" He swung his arm up and over to finish the cast of his first spell, but Renei was already moving, dodging to the side as the cobblestone underneath where she had been *cracked* under the stunning energy that emanated in an arc from him. "Let me end this swiftly, and fight more worthy foes!" The next few moments were a blur of monotony. Astalon, for all of his skill as a caster, had the fatal flaw that he had to prepare long in advance of any spell he wanted to cast. It was a drawback that he hid extraordinarily well, drawing ensnaring traps and letting his opponents walk themselves into them, planning everything ahead like a massive game of chess, but all the planning in the world did not help when you knew where the traps wanted you to go and how to avoid them. Until the magic was more depleted and the shields that every sufficiently trained mage has up weakened, the plan was to just avoid and frustrate Astalon. The Dragonkin stepped forward to shatter the ground again with his magically empowered stomp, and Renei jumped backward. She took a deep breath, and covered her nose with her off hand just before a noxious, emerald-green cloud of fumes *poof*ed into existence around her. The dance continued, a summoned blade of fire sweeping from left to right and her ducking underneath it to avoid being hit into the sigil that would freeze her in time. A laser-thin beam of light aimed into the cloud, but the thin blade of the rapier positioned to reflect it back at Astalon to drain the shields even faster. Astalon yelled out to his opponent in frustration, but to pay attention to the words would be to lose track of the net of spells coming her way, so Renei neither listened nor responded. Two minutes passed. Three. Four. Renei gained and lost distance on her opponent, not following traditional rules of hand-to-hand combat but instead dancing according to the steps laid out by an opponent that kept pushing his limits to cast more and more spells. And, after one swing of the magical blade reflected back the torrent flame that had just been launched her way, the spells finally came to an end. "How?" The dust cleared, and Astalon was sitting on the ground, exhausted. "How could you fight so intelligently without casting spells yourself? The Tool did indeed not activate, and I find myself totally at a loss." He stared at Renei, taking in the petite, brunette figure in front of him. "You do not have the body of a warrior." Renei stood next to him, although with the size of the Dragonkin, his head was still nearly even with hers. "I have the body of a courier. We have the stamina to outlast even the finest warriors." She announced more to the crowd than to her opponent, and they cheered. She swung the blade, more ceremonially than actually, to end the combat in an official capacity. The blade struck the magical barrier, a few inches away from the body of the fighter, and pushed through. And the blade caught another shield, a third whole layer separating the battlemage from harm, and exploded in light and sound and thunder and cutting through the area, cutting through her, cutting into - Back into the world between. The Tool and Renei floated through possibility and thought, time folding back and replaying the events of the fight onto the surface of the Tool backwards. The barrier un-broke, motes of mana respecifying into the weakened shield. The dust uncleared, the fire spell that should have been too large to reflect un-reflected, the dance played in reverse. Astalon stomped on the ground in the vision, and Renei *felt* the stomp through the tablet. Another stomp. Now approaching the beginning of the fight. The arm swing that spread that same stunning energy out, further in front than any of the stomps did. But instead of the *kcarc* of the ground unbreaking, Renei heard a *crack*. Once again, time rewound, and Renei found herself before the fight. The Tool in her back pocket finished humming and broke into a dozen pieces, and Renei stood among the crowd without her lifeline. And she ran. ------- Hey! I don't have anything to plug yet, but this world has been one that I've been thinking about for quite some time. If you all end up liking it, I'm thinking of trying to make more responses in the world and possibly even explore Renei's story a bit more. Let me know!

His breath stinks. Somehow that is comforting, familiar. It lifts me, briefly, from the boredom, the depression of realizing this is the third time I have stepped left instead pivoting right, so obviously broadcasting the strike with my blade, my wrist caught—again—in his grip. The effortless sink of metal between my ribs is pro forma, though he visibly relishes it. That is understandable. This is the killing blow of which he had been so cocksure. And then we had danced together, smoothly, almost sensuously, for the better part of an hour, and his frustration shown in the furrow of his brow. I am nothing. I am a peon. A foot soldier fighting a god. And yet we danced, a mortal with a god, a teasing defiance, now ended in the consummation for which he has longed, my flesh finally yielding. Who can blame him for enjoying it? He leans in, embracing me, looking straight down his nose into my eyes, glowering with a grin I am sure he has practiced, one he knows is intimidating, the effect heightened by his panting, the stink of his breath hissing from between his teeth. And suddenly he is disarmed by a look in my eyes. The corners of his mouth slacken, his taught lips fall to cover his grizzly jaws. My eyes reveal nothing to which he is accustomed, neither fear nor pain, none of the terror of his many victims. There is merely sadness—a deep sadness, constitutive, like finally giving into grief for a loss long known but never truly accepted. The boredom of this, this fight, this duel that has become my eternal life, my curse—is familiar to me. It is new to him, yes; all of it is new to him, but it is also familiar, akin to the resignation of so many of his victims. The sad acceptance on my face though? That is something unfamiliar to us both. It is hardly the nightmare that it once was, the terrible fear, the excruciating agony, the lessons—so many lessons!—on the senses and mobility I took for granted: my body’s inescapable mechanics, the muscles that become useless with sliced tendons, the futility of swinging dizzily at darkness after a crack to the skull, the fainting panic when the blood pours out and the vision blurs. Then there was the taunting, the drawn out, humiliating insults to dignity, the literal and figurative emasculations, a thousand of them followed by thousands more. Finally there was the frustration, the bewilderment that I, a mortal, might be given the task of conquering a god. This was impossible, unreasonable. Surely someone had made a mistake. It wasn't fair. For all the dancing I could do, I could not dance enough; he would lead me always to our dance’s end. But all that has passed. I have danced long enough to know it is merely a matter of practice. There is no movement unlearnable by rote, no maneuver unconquerable by dull repetition. So boredom has reigned. I know not for how long. But now boredom has given way to something else. I have hated him for eons, as he has hated me, ostensibly since an hour ago, when he first heard my name. Like all else between us, the asymmetry is stark; I have known him *far* longer than I have hated him. He has been my closest companion, my teacher, my brother, even my lover. We have been in countless moments of extraordinary intimacy. I have smelled his breath as he has penetrated me, again and again. I have felt his body slacken against me in the denouement of his conquest. All his horrid lines, whispered furtively in my dying ear, are no longer menacing but revealingly over-rehearsed. Underneath, the god is just a boy like me—one who has practiced, again and again, to become a hardened façade. I know suddenly that I have loved him for eons, and I pity him now. Among the hordes surrounding us, I am the only man who sees him for who he is, sees his fear and his longing. You poor soul! I see you and you know me not! All your prowess, all your skill, products of your want to be wanted—but who will want you when the blades are sheathed? Only your killer will ever know you unadorned by armor. I see suddenly all I will take from you, that you will never be loved as I love you when I inevitably strike you down.

[WP] The enemy's champion can't believe how well you're doing in the duel against him. He doesn't know you can return to a selected save point each time you die. You've actually fought him hundreds of times.

It's true, as they say, the head does retain some function after being cut loose. I discovered that just now as my head, well more like as I, rolled through the briars of a dusty field. I tried to speak but very quickly realized I needed air to do so and my lungs were over there in that bush, stuck in my corpse. If I could speak I'd hoped to say to my attacker something to the effect of: "Stop killing me you gargantuan fuck.", but no such words came out. Instead I just faded away with a bit of dried stick pushing into my mouth. Ah well. Rebirth is an odd thing. Rather painful, as most don't guess. Sort of like a man is bashing your skull in with a hammer, trying to cold forge steel using your fleshy bits. Similar to the way I died the time before last. Or maybe that was three times ago. With a series of dull, pulsing pains in my head and a flash of light I once again stood before Hyrathgourd's champion, *Brutus the Eternal*. Back in the same dusty field filmed in unending death. Back before a man who had killed me hundreds of times before. Looking around I envisioned my many pathetic corpses falling to his blade again and again. Behind me I need not take the effort to envision the death of my companion, Able, for his body still lay motionless and bloody in the dirt. If only I had picked a sooner point to return. Brutus glared up to me with the same wild eyes I'd seen before, peeking through a horned helm. His bare chest sported a series of gnarly scars that served as the only proof he'd ever need of his skill. With a three finger hand he pointed, a motion and following speech I had mapped out in my brain by now. To think how scared I'd been when he'd first killed me. "I am Brutus the Eternal, slayer of man and defiler of gods! No man has defeated me in combat, including your companion, and though I feel your loss I cannot allow you to pass this point!" With the tip of his long etched blade he made a line in the sand, the towers of his kingdom stretched up behind. "You would think a man who defiles the gods would be able to best me then, no? We shall see. It will be a pleasure to prove your mortality." With that I dew a symbol in the dirt with my hands then set it with a word: *regressus*, to which the etching glowed faintly. Though I could not see it, the smirk he drew under his helm was clear. Behind him up high on a tower a king stood in watch. Behind me an army of corpses and limp war machines. A chant for my opponents success, originating at the walls of his kingdom, flew overhead. And in that moment, I charged. Yelling at the top of my lungs, hands bare and breath short, I bridged the gap between us with great strides. Every step brought me closer to Brutus, to death again. Halfway to him I grabbed a broken sword from the field, still gripped by the body of a friend, and threw it true. The hunk of metal glided straight for a moment before Brutus cast it aside with an armored hand. "Clever, that was better than I'd-" but his words were cut short as I was upon him now with my own blade drawn. The first time our fight had a swift victor. I was timid, on the defense in fear, and then dead. The second time dead once more, caught off guard by his overwhelming power. This time, after hundreds of deaths, my mistakes were almost none. A swing here that killed me once before, now missing its mark. A slash here that had cut me in two, now only finding the wind in its arc. With each miss both his frustration and strength grew anew. Every strike he made was lethal and left no room for entry for me. If I went too soon I would die again, I needed only to wait. Finally, he swung his sword in a wide circle that had cut my head clean off just before, but now it missed entirely. From below I brought the tip of my sword up through his chest, then pushed till it slid out of his back. He let out a soft gasp from behind the helmet. "I..*eck*...but how?" "Brutus the Eternal. You never knew my true name. You may hear it now. I am Ether. Ether the Undying." I pulled my sword free of his chest and his body fell to the sand with a heavy thud. Now he would know how I felt. But my work wasn't finished. In the distance the gates of the kingdom Hyrathgourd opened letting loose a sea of armored faces. It may not take a day, not a month, maybe not even a year, but in time I, Ether the Undying, would show them all what true power looked like. My hands etched a symbol in the dirt, one I had made hundreds of times before and would hundreds of times again.

His breath stinks. Somehow that is comforting, familiar. It lifts me, briefly, from the boredom, the depression of realizing this is the third time I have stepped left instead pivoting right, so obviously broadcasting the strike with my blade, my wrist caught—again—in his grip. The effortless sink of metal between my ribs is pro forma, though he visibly relishes it. That is understandable. This is the killing blow of which he had been so cocksure. And then we had danced together, smoothly, almost sensuously, for the better part of an hour, and his frustration shown in the furrow of his brow. I am nothing. I am a peon. A foot soldier fighting a god. And yet we danced, a mortal with a god, a teasing defiance, now ended in the consummation for which he has longed, my flesh finally yielding. Who can blame him for enjoying it? He leans in, embracing me, looking straight down his nose into my eyes, glowering with a grin I am sure he has practiced, one he knows is intimidating, the effect heightened by his panting, the stink of his breath hissing from between his teeth. And suddenly he is disarmed by a look in my eyes. The corners of his mouth slacken, his taught lips fall to cover his grizzly jaws. My eyes reveal nothing to which he is accustomed, neither fear nor pain, none of the terror of his many victims. There is merely sadness—a deep sadness, constitutive, like finally giving into grief for a loss long known but never truly accepted. The boredom of this, this fight, this duel that has become my eternal life, my curse—is familiar to me. It is new to him, yes; all of it is new to him, but it is also familiar, akin to the resignation of so many of his victims. The sad acceptance on my face though? That is something unfamiliar to us both. It is hardly the nightmare that it once was, the terrible fear, the excruciating agony, the lessons—so many lessons!—on the senses and mobility I took for granted: my body’s inescapable mechanics, the muscles that become useless with sliced tendons, the futility of swinging dizzily at darkness after a crack to the skull, the fainting panic when the blood pours out and the vision blurs. Then there was the taunting, the drawn out, humiliating insults to dignity, the literal and figurative emasculations, a thousand of them followed by thousands more. Finally there was the frustration, the bewilderment that I, a mortal, might be given the task of conquering a god. This was impossible, unreasonable. Surely someone had made a mistake. It wasn't fair. For all the dancing I could do, I could not dance enough; he would lead me always to our dance’s end. But all that has passed. I have danced long enough to know it is merely a matter of practice. There is no movement unlearnable by rote, no maneuver unconquerable by dull repetition. So boredom has reigned. I know not for how long. But now boredom has given way to something else. I have hated him for eons, as he has hated me, ostensibly since an hour ago, when he first heard my name. Like all else between us, the asymmetry is stark; I have known him *far* longer than I have hated him. He has been my closest companion, my teacher, my brother, even my lover. We have been in countless moments of extraordinary intimacy. I have smelled his breath as he has penetrated me, again and again. I have felt his body slacken against me in the denouement of his conquest. All his horrid lines, whispered furtively in my dying ear, are no longer menacing but revealingly over-rehearsed. Underneath, the god is just a boy like me—one who has practiced, again and again, to become a hardened façade. I know suddenly that I have loved him for eons, and I pity him now. Among the hordes surrounding us, I am the only man who sees him for who he is, sees his fear and his longing. You poor soul! I see you and you know me not! All your prowess, all your skill, products of your want to be wanted—but who will want you when the blades are sheathed? Only your killer will ever know you unadorned by armor. I see suddenly all I will take from you, that you will never be loved as I love you when I inevitably strike you down.

[WP] Humanity is not alone in the galaxy, but we are the first species to achieve interstellar travel. Now, millennia later, a second species achieves the same. We are now the hyper-advanced precursors and have to decide how we will interact with the younger species.

For millenia, we drifted across the stars. Alone, but not without hope. Long ago, we dreamed of making first contact. Movies with men from mars and and video games with visitors from beyond Sol marked our fascination with those in the same situation. We broadcasted our hopes into the void, as if by chance someone out there would find it. Years turned into decades. Decades into centuries. Centuries into.... Anyways, it had been a long time. We eventually united as a species and left our homeworld. We waved our star goodbye as our ships left the system. Our scouts searched endlessly for a sign. But all we found were barren worlds teeming with resources but not people. We crept forwards through the galaxy, settling on different worlds along the way. United Humanity grew strong. But strength did little to ease our lonely spirit. Then, in one little system in a far corner of the Milky Way, we found them. Life. Multi-celled bacteria, yes, but it was still life. Our leaders debated and argued over what was to become of this planet. The final decision was to wait. To let them evolve. And so we waited. We watched them grow, from bacteria to much greater things. We saw their struggles, their wars, their failures and setbacks. But finally, they did it. As their rockets launched into orbit, we sent a message to their homeworld. And after we finally established a translation code, we spoke the first meaningful sentence to them. "Hello, from the children of planet Earth."

"So the rumours were true, Miss Alterra?" Alex asked. "Call me that one more time, and I'll throw you into space without a suit to save you." Kaori promptly replied, pointing a figure at Alex. Alex shrugged. "Am I right then, Kaori? You're keeping secrets? Judging from the look on your face, I'd say I'm right on the money." Kaori looked away. It was hard to say whether she was trying to hide her lies even now, or she was embarrassed that someone finally found out. "It's not as if this matters. The planet's life is almost prehistoric. By our standards, at least..." Kaori was now staring off into space. Literally. "You say that, but the proof is right in front of me. Let's see here... Ah, unidentified space craft, no weapons, unlikely to pose a risk to our people... Shall I continue? There's pictures of the ships too, this is quite the fin-" Alex was interrupted. "Would you shut up? What are you trying to archive, I won't be blackmailed by the likes of you!" She says, leaning over the desk. Alex had the chance a long time ago to blackmail her. The time they spent on Earth together was enough. Kaori had trusted Alex in the past. But he didn't want that. "I want to propose a deal..." Kaori was interested. "A deal, you say? And what would that deal be? More importantly, what would you gain, and what would I gain?" She asked. Alex smiled. "It's simple, really. You're a powerful woman, and don't I know it! And I am a man who can get you clearance to any district, any station and any planet in the galaxy. Do you catch my drift?" He says smugly. Clearly, he was thinking of something he shouldn't be thinking about. Kaori sighed, visibly annoyed. "You're a weapons dealer, you're the opposite of what I stand for..." Alex shrugged again. "I'm a business man. That planet has secrets, and I want in. You don't have clearance, I can get you there." He slides a single chip towards Kaori. "Your ticket. You board my ship and I'll handle the rest." ...

[WP] You wake up in a room with 11 strangers. In the center of the room is a metal box bolted to the floor. On top of the box is a note that reads “Whoever opens this box will die. If no one opens the box in the next 60 minutes, all of you will die.”

I don’t think they - whoever “they” were - had expected there to be a fight to *open* the box. Well, to clarify, they had probably expected a fight about opening the box, but not people fighting to be the one to do it. I watched in bemusement as my fellow millennial managed to beat off three zoomers and come away with the box in his hands. He wrenched open the lid, only to greeted by the sound of Queen crooning about champions. As a choice of music, I found it singularly inappropriate for the occasion. There was no bang. No poison. No death. The millennial - I really wish we’d had time for introductions before they started fighting for their deaths - picked up a note from the box and growled in sheer exasperation. “Fuck it all,” he said, before knocking three times on the door. A keypad dropped down and he punched in the code. The door swung silently open. There was a moment of disbelief, and then we collectively *moved*. It was a good thing the door was wide. I don’t think we would have dealt with a jam with any degree of grace. I stopped just for a fraction of a second and grabbed the note. Later, at home, I read it. *Today you chose death to save ten other lives, so you have bought yourself a lifetime with your deeds. The others will have to live with the guilt of allowing one human life to be sacrificed to save their own skins.* It continued on, but it had instructions to escape at the bottom. “Well, whoever wrote this definitely had no clue about living in today’s economy.” I muttered dryly to myself.

\[Death Rattled\] "A death game, huh? I remember Nate and Sharon getting into one like this..." I quietly mutter, eyeing the other contestants. 9 humans, one vampire and two demons, including myself. Tsk, I feel bad for them, because unlike them, I'm a being cursed with undeath, as it's how I've lived for over four millennia. 57 minutes remain, one of the humans, a muscular and jocular stereotype was barking out commands toward the vampire, threatening to knock his lights out if they didn't open the box. "Wait, let's act rational, here. Even if one of us opens the box, the game will probably keep going until at most one of u remains," One of the slimmer males speaks up, a soldier boy, Private First Class even, "If none of us open the box, we can rob whoever's causing this of their entertainment..!" "A shame, really, then. Whoever orchestrated this picked terrible targets then, since a quarter of us are supernatural," I remark, getting to my feet. I calmly walk towards the box, eyeing each one of the others, who all had startled expressions on their faces. They saw what I was going to do, and the soldier as the first to act, trying to grab my arms and prevent me from opening it. "Are you not listening..!? Or are you just that sui-" Before he was able to finish his next sentence, I grab him and lock him in a full nelson before slamming him into a wall. "Unlike the others, I don't need to, because if you didn't try to stop me, I would have revealed the second reason why the one who put us here made a massive mistake," I shove him to the floor, walking back towards the box. The timer on it showed that we have 49 minutes left. I wrenched open the box with minimal effort, to which a bunch of confetti shot out the box, much to the confusion of everyone other than myself, before I begin feeling a sharp pain in my chest. It wasn't a pain strong enough to send me to the floor, but it was enough to catch me off guard, "Cyanide implants. Clever, but not enough to kill me, unfortunately," I begin laughing, even as pain was spreading through my body, threatening to floor me, I would not stop until whoever was watching learns the horrid truth: Death can be an escape, it can be mercy... but it can also be torture. It's nothing more than a matter of perspective... \[End.\]

[WP] You wake up in a room with 11 strangers. In the center of the room is a metal box bolted to the floor. On top of the box is a note that reads “Whoever opens this box will die. If no one opens the box in the next 60 minutes, all of you will die.”

It was a simple test. Eleven people, two outcomes. But there was one solution my superiors and I were looking for. I was watching from the security room with bated breath. Four and Nine were studying the box and putting their respective engineering and psychology degrees to work, Three was trying to find a way out of the room, and One was consoling an anxious Ten. The rest of the group was huddled around the walls, staring at the box, ruminating on the note and what it entailed. I wasn't anywhere close to their current situation, but I felt similarly about the trio of buttons to the left of my intercom. Two out of the three would have signified our latest batch had failed and we would have to start all over. It had taken us months to even find these people- I was not prepared to start from scratch. "Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath. Suddenly, Five got up and started talking to the rest of the group. A look of...not quite a resolution but more of an acceptance, appeared on the faces of the group one by one. Even Ten, who had been the most scared of them all, seemed to be on board with this. The group joined Four and Nine around the box, rested their hands on top, and after a few seconds of tension, slid open the lid of the box all as one. On the inside, I was screaming and jumping for joy, but on the outside I retained my professional decorum. I pressed the middle button of the trio and said into the intercom, "Test passed, everyone. Well done." I stepped out of the security room and into the chamber where the test was being conducted. The giant gray cube where the group was kept retracted into the floor in long metallic strips, like a deck being disassembled one board at a time. While the rest of the group were looking around in confusion, an irate Six looked over at me and said, "Lady, what the hell was all this?" "First of all, my name is Cordelia, not Lady. And second of all, this was a test. Not to determine your willingness to give your life for someone else's, mind you, but one to determine if you were willing to go with a solution where nobody had to die, even if it meant taking a leap of faith. And you all passed with flying colors." "Okay, but why were we being tested," Seven asked. "You were being tested because our organization is tasked with both saving the world and making it one worth saving. Because you select few, from all across the world, share two things: a desire to make things better, and a genetic trait that makes you compatible with our top-secret procedure that can grant you incredible power. Because the world needs people who understand there is no such thing as an acceptable loss. It needs heroes." The wall behind me displayed a holographic still of our logo: a burnt-orange silhouette of an angel brandishing a torch. "We are Prometheus. Now, shall we get started?"

\[Death Rattled\] "A death game, huh? I remember Nate and Sharon getting into one like this..." I quietly mutter, eyeing the other contestants. 9 humans, one vampire and two demons, including myself. Tsk, I feel bad for them, because unlike them, I'm a being cursed with undeath, as it's how I've lived for over four millennia. 57 minutes remain, one of the humans, a muscular and jocular stereotype was barking out commands toward the vampire, threatening to knock his lights out if they didn't open the box. "Wait, let's act rational, here. Even if one of us opens the box, the game will probably keep going until at most one of u remains," One of the slimmer males speaks up, a soldier boy, Private First Class even, "If none of us open the box, we can rob whoever's causing this of their entertainment..!" "A shame, really, then. Whoever orchestrated this picked terrible targets then, since a quarter of us are supernatural," I remark, getting to my feet. I calmly walk towards the box, eyeing each one of the others, who all had startled expressions on their faces. They saw what I was going to do, and the soldier as the first to act, trying to grab my arms and prevent me from opening it. "Are you not listening..!? Or are you just that sui-" Before he was able to finish his next sentence, I grab him and lock him in a full nelson before slamming him into a wall. "Unlike the others, I don't need to, because if you didn't try to stop me, I would have revealed the second reason why the one who put us here made a massive mistake," I shove him to the floor, walking back towards the box. The timer on it showed that we have 49 minutes left. I wrenched open the box with minimal effort, to which a bunch of confetti shot out the box, much to the confusion of everyone other than myself, before I begin feeling a sharp pain in my chest. It wasn't a pain strong enough to send me to the floor, but it was enough to catch me off guard, "Cyanide implants. Clever, but not enough to kill me, unfortunately," I begin laughing, even as pain was spreading through my body, threatening to floor me, I would not stop until whoever was watching learns the horrid truth: Death can be an escape, it can be mercy... but it can also be torture. It's nothing more than a matter of perspective... \[End.\]

[WP] You wake up in a room with 11 strangers. In the center of the room is a metal box bolted to the floor. On top of the box is a note that reads “Whoever opens this box will die. If no one opens the box in the next 60 minutes, all of you will die.”

It was a simple test. Eleven people, two outcomes. But there was one solution my superiors and I were looking for. I was watching from the security room with bated breath. Four and Nine were studying the box and putting their respective engineering and psychology degrees to work, Three was trying to find a way out of the room, and One was consoling an anxious Ten. The rest of the group was huddled around the walls, staring at the box, ruminating on the note and what it entailed. I wasn't anywhere close to their current situation, but I felt similarly about the trio of buttons to the left of my intercom. Two out of the three would have signified our latest batch had failed and we would have to start all over. It had taken us months to even find these people- I was not prepared to start from scratch. "Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath. Suddenly, Five got up and started talking to the rest of the group. A look of...not quite a resolution but more of an acceptance, appeared on the faces of the group one by one. Even Ten, who had been the most scared of them all, seemed to be on board with this. The group joined Four and Nine around the box, rested their hands on top, and after a few seconds of tension, slid open the lid of the box all as one. On the inside, I was screaming and jumping for joy, but on the outside I retained my professional decorum. I pressed the middle button of the trio and said into the intercom, "Test passed, everyone. Well done." I stepped out of the security room and into the chamber where the test was being conducted. The giant gray cube where the group was kept retracted into the floor in long metallic strips, like a deck being disassembled one board at a time. While the rest of the group were looking around in confusion, an irate Six looked over at me and said, "Lady, what the hell was all this?" "First of all, my name is Cordelia, not Lady. And second of all, this was a test. Not to determine your willingness to give your life for someone else's, mind you, but one to determine if you were willing to go with a solution where nobody had to die, even if it meant taking a leap of faith. And you all passed with flying colors." "Okay, but why were we being tested," Seven asked. "You were being tested because our organization is tasked with both saving the world and making it one worth saving. Because you select few, from all across the world, share two things: a desire to make things better, and a genetic trait that makes you compatible with our top-secret procedure that can grant you incredible power. Because the world needs people who understand there is no such thing as an acceptable loss. It needs heroes." The wall behind me displayed a holographic still of our logo: a burnt-orange silhouette of an angel brandishing a torch. "We are Prometheus. Now, shall we get started?"

I woke up before the rest of them. The room is cold and empty, with bare concrete walls, floor, and ceiling. In one corner, a camera keeps watch over the room from its perch over a dingy metal grate. Its red light blinks slowly. It feels like it’s sending me a message: “I am here. I am watching.” I sit on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by the sleeping bodies of eleven strangers. I had already tried to wake them. It didn’t work. We were neatly lined up against one wall before I woke up, but my frantic efforts to wake them had disturbed their positions, and they now lay in haphazard arrangements on the floor, with their limbs spread out like dead branches. But it is the center of the room that truly captures my attention. In the center of the room, there is a metal box. On top of the box, there is a crisp sheet of pure white printer paper. From this distance, I cannot read it, but that’s not a problem–I already read it. I already know what it says. “Whoever opens this box will die. If no one opens the box in the next 60 minutes, all of you will die.” What the fuck. I stand up awkwardly, my body stiff from sitting on the concrete floor. Shit, I need to do something, don’t I? What am I supposed to do? I don’t think I was supposed to wake before the rest of them. How long has it been since I awoke? Did I doom us all by waking up so early? I look at them–an old man in dirty torn clothes, made gaunt and grizzled by life on the streets; a child with curly brown hair, teal glasses, and a unicorn backpack; a round, pleasant-faced twenty-something with short blond hair; a middle-aged woman wearing a frumpy shirt, clutching her purse even in sleep– Her purse! Does she have a phone? I can call for help! I can save everyone! I run to the purse and begin frantically pulling things out of it–lipstick, tissues, a notepad with a cat on the front–until my hand locks around the hard surface. I immediately pull it out, and press the power button… My heart sinks. There’s no way to activate the phone; the only characters on the black screen are numbers. And they’re going down. “Oh, shit.” The woman watches me from the driver’s license in her tossed-aside wallet. Her eyes are round and hollow like empty dinner plates. 16. 15. 14… The minutes drip past me like poisoned honey. What should I do? 13. 12. 11… Is this real? Is this actually happening? I can’t let these people die. I can’t let anyone die. 10. 9. 8… “Shit.” Theoretically, there are many actions I can take. But in reality, there’s only one. I take a deep breath, walk across the room, and open the box. ​ (Sorry if this sucks, I wrote it in like an hour. Also, first time I've posted a story to this subreddit! yay!)

[WP] As a free roaming ghost, you finally feel like you can breach and explore Area 51. The moment youre on the base though, alarms begin blaring. "Code 62: Ethereal Intruder detected."

As I looked down at my bullet-riddled corpse, I could only think one thing. *Mom was right.* She'd told me that the voices I heard were all my head, a result of the mental illness that runs in my family -- as opposed to a genuine astrally-projected distress signal from alien lifeforms confined at Area 51 by a shadowy quasi-governmental organization. Now that my body was dead, along with my brain and all its evidently misfiring neurons, there were no voices. Even my obsession with Area 51 was gone. I could remember how I'd spent all my time researching it, poring over every resource I could find on it from the public library to the deep web, but the *need* had vanished the moment my soul, or spirit, or whatever was left stopped being tethered to a flawed human brain. I saw my obsession for what it had truly been: a mere trick played on me by my own organically unhinged psyche. I felt bad about being dead -- mostly for Mom, who'd be devastated when she learned what had happened. If she learned what happened. I'd read that anyone who had to be eliminated for attempting to breach Area 51 was quietly "disappeared", and I remembered believing it was true, but with my new post-mortem clarity, I found much of what I thought I knew about Area 51 and UFOs to be highly suspect. I watched as a medic formally pronounced me dead, and then helped one of the soldiers who'd killed me load my body onto a gurney and roll it away. I wasn't interested in following them -- at least not as much as I was interested in something else. Even though I was no longer driven by the manic hunger to learn the secrets of Area 51 that I'd had in life, it seemed like a shame to waste the opportunity to take a peek inside. So I walked right through the fence and stepped onto the base. Insantly, klaxons blared all around me. A second later, a recorded alert sounded over loudspeakers set up on a nearby pole: *Code 62: Ethereal intruder detected! All personnel initiate standard containment protocol around Hangar 4! This is not a drill!* I froze in surprise, then flinched as two soldiers charged directly towards me. But the men ran past, towards a supply shed -- apparently while *something* on the base could detect me, I was still invisible to the people who worked here. What had the alert said? Hangar 4? That seemed like as good a place as any to look. I sprinted down the line of buildings effortlessly, unencumbered by the limitations of a body. I only had a moment to revel in this newfound freedom to move tirelessly across the ground before a soldier rolling something over the ground crossed my path, and I hit a wall -- except there was no wall. And also, walls should be no impediment to me anymore, as I'd proven by walking through the fence. I looked down at the ground, and then at the soldier continuing on his way, rolling out a white onto the ground at his feet. I'd seen a device like the one he was pushing before, when I was at school, before my illness got bad. It was usually used to make white lines on the grass of athletic fields for various sports, but that clearly wasn't it's purpose here. My search for the secrets of Area 51 had filled my head with all kinds of supposed paranormal lore, enough to guess what they were doing --- the chalk in the device must be infused with powdered salt, purported to repel things like demons and ghosts. Things like me, I realized. I sprinted ahead, doing an end run around the soldier, dodging between and around long lines of salted chalk as they were hastily traced out by Area 51 personnel, my ghostly eyes darting over the painted letters on the many buildings and hangars dotting the base. Just as the soldiers were about to trap me, I managed to get ahead of the one near the doors to the large building labelled *Hangar 4.* I darted inside through the wall without further hesitation. The sight that met me was not what I'd expected. Not an alien spacecraft, or an even an experimental airplane. Just a large black metal crate, set up by itself on a wooden platform inside a circle of salt, with the words "TOP SECRET" stenciled on the side in faded white paint. Nearby, an old man sat on the ground, his head bowed, a dusty cowboy hat shading his eyes. Beside him were two other seated figures, in an equally contemplative posture. These others were, well...*aliens,* of the classic variety. Little gray men with big black eyes, who neither wore, nor seemed to need, any clothing beyond their own skin. As I came to a halt just short of them, staring at the unlikely trio in mute disbelief, the old man looked up at me. He frowned, but his expression seemed more compassionate than angry, and after a moment he let out a long, weary sigh. "Well fellers," he said, glancing between his two alien compatriots, "Looks like them damn feds out there caught themselves *another one."*

Alarms are blaring from all directions and red lights are going off everywhere. What is happening? They know I am here? How is that possible, I've tried everything I could to have people to notice me and nothing worked at all. But these guys had the power or technology or the... something to see me? I turn around and start running out the way I came in, but then I realize, I don't remember which way I came in. Part of the problem with being able to walk through walls, you end up not paying attention to direction. I keep running and running through different rooms. A room with some vampires being experimented on, did not expect that. A room with rats the size of a house. As if my nightmares weren't bad enough, they went and made giant rats. What wacky ass shit are they doing at this place? I don't stop to look or think about it. If they are doing experiments, I sure as hell don't want to end up being one of them. I run into a group of guards wearing special goggles. They raise their weapons at me. I keep running towards them. Idiots don't know I'm a ghost? As if their bullets could- AUGH!!! I fall to the ground. White goo blood pours our of my belly. I'm eating my words like a fool. They cuff me and blindfold me and lock me in a cage. I try to float out of this cage but it is impossible. The next few weeks are torture. They experiment on me. It's painful. The whole time I think about how I didn't even get to see an alien. This trip was so not worth it. Finally, one day after a month or so, I wake up. Wait. I wake up? I haven't woken up since I died? I fell asleep? What did they do to me. I flex my hand. Holy shit, I can feel my fingers! I try curling my toes. Holy shit, I have a body? I can feel! "Hello there. You're awake." A man says. Still blindfolded I cannot see who it is. "Yes. Did you... did you bring me back to life? Is that what you were doing this whole time?" A long pause. "We were able to bring you back to life, yes." "Oh my God! Thank you, thank you so much! I can't believe-" "There is a catch." He interrupts. "A catch? What's that catch?" Silence rings throughout the room. Unable to handle it anymore I take off my blindfold and look at the man. Or rather, I look down at the man. He wears a uniform and would probably be very intimidating if he was not tiny. Why is he so tiny? Then I look down at my body for the first time. And I realize what has happened. I am a giant rat the size of a house.

[WP] As a free roaming ghost, you finally feel like you can breach and explore Area 51. The moment youre on the base though, alarms begin blaring. "Code 62: Ethereal Intruder detected."

What would you do with eternity? Think about it. No, really. What would you do if you could go anywhere, do anything? Never aging, never hurtin'? There is, of course, a catch. You'd have to die first. Now, my dear, death has many flavors. The nature of your life, how you die, all add a certain *je ne sais quoi* to the big ol' stew of your after life experience. You like that? Je. Ne. Sais. Quoi. It's en Francais. I've been practicin'! ... Bah, lighten up, flesh suit. Not everything has to be so serious. What was I sayin'. Right. Was explaining death flavors. So, those stuck in life, get stuck in death. Unable to move past a threshold, a barrier. They're *bound* spirits. Sometimes to a home. Sometimes a person. Could be most anything. You can tell they're bound though, hard to mistake those miserable eyes, the slow gait. Now, others don't stick around at all. Not really sure where they float off too. Space? Some other after life? Couldn't tell ya. Me? I died way back. Headin' west, towards a land of gold and new beginnings. That was our dream. Me and Mary... Eh... Didn't pan out, obviously. No. No details. Let's just say y'all have it luckier than you know with your big water cleaning contraptions. What are they called? Right, treatment plants. Kinda expected actual plants, but y'all keep naming things weird. I toured one last month. I think it was a month. Feels like a month. That's where I got the idea for this latest venture. Overheard some twenty somethings--it's amazin' how long y'all get to live these days, too many of y'all be taking that for granted, it's sad to see. Anyways, sorry, not here to preach. So, I overheard these two men talkin' about raiding Area 51. You know Area 51, I'm sure: Nevada desert, military base, *secret aliens*--that one. Well, curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to head on down meself and check out *the hype*. So there I am, right? Trekked all the way from Washington down through California, and way far out into the desert. Like I said, took a month. Wasn't pleasant either. Had to avoid some nasty spirits on the way through. Almost got chomped at least twice. Oh yeah, might have been exaggerating a bit with the eternity thing. Spirits, err, no real pleasant way to say this. We eat other spirits to stay strong, keep our wits about us. Go too long without eating, and you fade out, and that's it. But eat the wrong things, and you go a bit mad. I try to stick to fresh bugs, fresh animals, but only the dumb ones. Never other humans, never pigs or dogs. Oh, cats? Yeah, no way I could eat a cat, even if I wanted to. Pretty sure a cat is what almost got me, near abouts Palm Springs. But you don't care 'bout none of that, let's get back to the story, yeah? So there I was, right at the fence line. Pass through the fence, no problem. I float up to the facility, brutal concrete thing, big double hangar door. It was cut into a hill, with an airfield on top of the hill. Some kinda underground entrance. Now, as a rule, I try to stay above ground whenever possible. No real reason, just feel deep down like it would be easy to get trapped. Guess I was right. Anyways, I swallow my fear and go through the doors. I'm not *one inch* through, and suddenly I hear alarms blaring. "Code 62! Code 62! Beep beep! Uh oh! There's a ghost!" Just loud as all get out. Y'all really threw me a welcome, let me tell ya. So here I am, freaking out a bit, obviously. I turn around, *and I can't get out*. Don't know what y'all did, but I couldn't go through the doors, couldn't go through the ceiling, just like I can't go through these walls. You know the rest. I flew about the facility looking for a way out before some guys in fatigues shot me with this weird laser, my brain scrambles, and next thing I know I'm stuck in this room, and you're askin' me what I'm doing here. Hmmm? You're saying I saw somethin'? Lady, I'm tellin' ya. I was far too concerned with *escaping*. Travelin' and learnin' and seein' the world is way too important to risk on catchin' a quick peek at some aliens. So there *are* aliens! Okay, well, you shouldn't have done told me that. Tell ya what. You just let me go and we'll call it all even. Won't tell your bosses. Won't tell anyone. What do you mean? Of course that's how that works. You let me out. You never hear from me again. Got no one to talk to, this is the most I've talked since me and Mary were... ... No. Not talking about that. ... Fine. I'll tell you what I saw. I saw you. Not you, you, but what you're *going* to be. You think you're gonna be done here when ya die? Nah, y'all take this secrecy nonsense way too serious. This base is filled up with bound spirits. Plenty to keep me plump for a long, long while. My rule about eatin' humans? Well. We all make exceptions when we gotta. So the way I see it, I've got forever, but this place don't. One way or another, I'm leaving here. Just a question of how many of your colleagues I'll need to eat in the interim. Guess I'll see ya soon.

Alarms are blaring from all directions and red lights are going off everywhere. What is happening? They know I am here? How is that possible, I've tried everything I could to have people to notice me and nothing worked at all. But these guys had the power or technology or the... something to see me? I turn around and start running out the way I came in, but then I realize, I don't remember which way I came in. Part of the problem with being able to walk through walls, you end up not paying attention to direction. I keep running and running through different rooms. A room with some vampires being experimented on, did not expect that. A room with rats the size of a house. As if my nightmares weren't bad enough, they went and made giant rats. What wacky ass shit are they doing at this place? I don't stop to look or think about it. If they are doing experiments, I sure as hell don't want to end up being one of them. I run into a group of guards wearing special goggles. They raise their weapons at me. I keep running towards them. Idiots don't know I'm a ghost? As if their bullets could- AUGH!!! I fall to the ground. White goo blood pours our of my belly. I'm eating my words like a fool. They cuff me and blindfold me and lock me in a cage. I try to float out of this cage but it is impossible. The next few weeks are torture. They experiment on me. It's painful. The whole time I think about how I didn't even get to see an alien. This trip was so not worth it. Finally, one day after a month or so, I wake up. Wait. I wake up? I haven't woken up since I died? I fell asleep? What did they do to me. I flex my hand. Holy shit, I can feel my fingers! I try curling my toes. Holy shit, I have a body? I can feel! "Hello there. You're awake." A man says. Still blindfolded I cannot see who it is. "Yes. Did you... did you bring me back to life? Is that what you were doing this whole time?" A long pause. "We were able to bring you back to life, yes." "Oh my God! Thank you, thank you so much! I can't believe-" "There is a catch." He interrupts. "A catch? What's that catch?" Silence rings throughout the room. Unable to handle it anymore I take off my blindfold and look at the man. Or rather, I look down at the man. He wears a uniform and would probably be very intimidating if he was not tiny. Why is he so tiny? Then I look down at my body for the first time. And I realize what has happened. I am a giant rat the size of a house.

[WP] As a free roaming ghost, you finally feel like you can breach and explore Area 51. The moment youre on the base though, alarms begin blaring. "Code 62: Ethereal Intruder detected."

As I looked down at my bullet-riddled corpse, I could only think one thing. *Mom was right.* She'd told me that the voices I heard were all my head, a result of the mental illness that runs in my family -- as opposed to a genuine astrally-projected distress signal from alien lifeforms confined at Area 51 by a shadowy quasi-governmental organization. Now that my body was dead, along with my brain and all its evidently misfiring neurons, there were no voices. Even my obsession with Area 51 was gone. I could remember how I'd spent all my time researching it, poring over every resource I could find on it from the public library to the deep web, but the *need* had vanished the moment my soul, or spirit, or whatever was left stopped being tethered to a flawed human brain. I saw my obsession for what it had truly been: a mere trick played on me by my own organically unhinged psyche. I felt bad about being dead -- mostly for Mom, who'd be devastated when she learned what had happened. If she learned what happened. I'd read that anyone who had to be eliminated for attempting to breach Area 51 was quietly "disappeared", and I remembered believing it was true, but with my new post-mortem clarity, I found much of what I thought I knew about Area 51 and UFOs to be highly suspect. I watched as a medic formally pronounced me dead, and then helped one of the soldiers who'd killed me load my body onto a gurney and roll it away. I wasn't interested in following them -- at least not as much as I was interested in something else. Even though I was no longer driven by the manic hunger to learn the secrets of Area 51 that I'd had in life, it seemed like a shame to waste the opportunity to take a peek inside. So I walked right through the fence and stepped onto the base. Insantly, klaxons blared all around me. A second later, a recorded alert sounded over loudspeakers set up on a nearby pole: *Code 62: Ethereal intruder detected! All personnel initiate standard containment protocol around Hangar 4! This is not a drill!* I froze in surprise, then flinched as two soldiers charged directly towards me. But the men ran past, towards a supply shed -- apparently while *something* on the base could detect me, I was still invisible to the people who worked here. What had the alert said? Hangar 4? That seemed like as good a place as any to look. I sprinted down the line of buildings effortlessly, unencumbered by the limitations of a body. I only had a moment to revel in this newfound freedom to move tirelessly across the ground before a soldier rolling something over the ground crossed my path, and I hit a wall -- except there was no wall. And also, walls should be no impediment to me anymore, as I'd proven by walking through the fence. I looked down at the ground, and then at the soldier continuing on his way, rolling out a white onto the ground at his feet. I'd seen a device like the one he was pushing before, when I was at school, before my illness got bad. It was usually used to make white lines on the grass of athletic fields for various sports, but that clearly wasn't it's purpose here. My search for the secrets of Area 51 had filled my head with all kinds of supposed paranormal lore, enough to guess what they were doing --- the chalk in the device must be infused with powdered salt, purported to repel things like demons and ghosts. Things like me, I realized. I sprinted ahead, doing an end run around the soldier, dodging between and around long lines of salted chalk as they were hastily traced out by Area 51 personnel, my ghostly eyes darting over the painted letters on the many buildings and hangars dotting the base. Just as the soldiers were about to trap me, I managed to get ahead of the one near the doors to the large building labelled *Hangar 4.* I darted inside through the wall without further hesitation. The sight that met me was not what I'd expected. Not an alien spacecraft, or an even an experimental airplane. Just a large black metal crate, set up by itself on a wooden platform inside a circle of salt, with the words "TOP SECRET" stenciled on the side in faded white paint. Nearby, an old man sat on the ground, his head bowed, a dusty cowboy hat shading his eyes. Beside him were two other seated figures, in an equally contemplative posture. These others were, well...*aliens,* of the classic variety. Little gray men with big black eyes, who neither wore, nor seemed to need, any clothing beyond their own skin. As I came to a halt just short of them, staring at the unlikely trio in mute disbelief, the old man looked up at me. He frowned, but his expression seemed more compassionate than angry, and after a moment he let out a long, weary sigh. "Well fellers," he said, glancing between his two alien compatriots, "Looks like them damn feds out there caught themselves *another one."*

# Soulmage **Distance was strange on this side of the mortal veil.** The space an object took up was determined not by its physical volume, but by how much it had impacted the living souls of the world. And so in my ethereal form, I passed by mountains the size of sand grains and hearthplaces that loomed like towers. But all that was dwarfed by the planetoid of memory and emotion that I had come all this way to infiltrate. The wide complex was practically a miniature town, and its legend had been contributed by hundreds of thousands of souls. Even as nothing but a memory, it would be difficult to sneak inside. I was up to the task, however. I was nothing more than a figment of imagination; what use would the weapons of the soldiers within be against me? So after analyzing the whirling planetoid of hopes and emotions, I pulled on the fabric of soulspace around me, *remembering* a moment of my life. Soulspace responded, forming a dragon of willpower and memory, and I clambered on, willing it to fly through the void. Landing on the surface of the chaotic mass that represented the fortress-complex, I pressed my ear to the ground, sifting through all the memories this building held. If the secrets I was searching for were anywhere, they'd be in the building's soul. Dismissing the dragon—keeping it manifested was too much of a strain on my mind—I looked into the soul of the fortress... ...and the soul of the fortress looked *back* at me. I screamed and stumbled back as the ground *blinked*, one face, two faces, three, surging out from the ground. "Foolish ghost," the uniformed specter whispered. "Did you think we had no dead of our own? *Even in death, we still serve.*" The soldier lifted their weapon, and the last thing I heard before falling unconscious was the ringing of a distant alarm. A.N. This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts! Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), or r/bubblewriters for more.

[WP] As a free roaming ghost, you finally feel like you can breach and explore Area 51. The moment youre on the base though, alarms begin blaring. "Code 62: Ethereal Intruder detected."

What would you do with eternity? Think about it. No, really. What would you do if you could go anywhere, do anything? Never aging, never hurtin'? There is, of course, a catch. You'd have to die first. Now, my dear, death has many flavors. The nature of your life, how you die, all add a certain *je ne sais quoi* to the big ol' stew of your after life experience. You like that? Je. Ne. Sais. Quoi. It's en Francais. I've been practicin'! ... Bah, lighten up, flesh suit. Not everything has to be so serious. What was I sayin'. Right. Was explaining death flavors. So, those stuck in life, get stuck in death. Unable to move past a threshold, a barrier. They're *bound* spirits. Sometimes to a home. Sometimes a person. Could be most anything. You can tell they're bound though, hard to mistake those miserable eyes, the slow gait. Now, others don't stick around at all. Not really sure where they float off too. Space? Some other after life? Couldn't tell ya. Me? I died way back. Headin' west, towards a land of gold and new beginnings. That was our dream. Me and Mary... Eh... Didn't pan out, obviously. No. No details. Let's just say y'all have it luckier than you know with your big water cleaning contraptions. What are they called? Right, treatment plants. Kinda expected actual plants, but y'all keep naming things weird. I toured one last month. I think it was a month. Feels like a month. That's where I got the idea for this latest venture. Overheard some twenty somethings--it's amazin' how long y'all get to live these days, too many of y'all be taking that for granted, it's sad to see. Anyways, sorry, not here to preach. So, I overheard these two men talkin' about raiding Area 51. You know Area 51, I'm sure: Nevada desert, military base, *secret aliens*--that one. Well, curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to head on down meself and check out *the hype*. So there I am, right? Trekked all the way from Washington down through California, and way far out into the desert. Like I said, took a month. Wasn't pleasant either. Had to avoid some nasty spirits on the way through. Almost got chomped at least twice. Oh yeah, might have been exaggerating a bit with the eternity thing. Spirits, err, no real pleasant way to say this. We eat other spirits to stay strong, keep our wits about us. Go too long without eating, and you fade out, and that's it. But eat the wrong things, and you go a bit mad. I try to stick to fresh bugs, fresh animals, but only the dumb ones. Never other humans, never pigs or dogs. Oh, cats? Yeah, no way I could eat a cat, even if I wanted to. Pretty sure a cat is what almost got me, near abouts Palm Springs. But you don't care 'bout none of that, let's get back to the story, yeah? So there I was, right at the fence line. Pass through the fence, no problem. I float up to the facility, brutal concrete thing, big double hangar door. It was cut into a hill, with an airfield on top of the hill. Some kinda underground entrance. Now, as a rule, I try to stay above ground whenever possible. No real reason, just feel deep down like it would be easy to get trapped. Guess I was right. Anyways, I swallow my fear and go through the doors. I'm not *one inch* through, and suddenly I hear alarms blaring. "Code 62! Code 62! Beep beep! Uh oh! There's a ghost!" Just loud as all get out. Y'all really threw me a welcome, let me tell ya. So here I am, freaking out a bit, obviously. I turn around, *and I can't get out*. Don't know what y'all did, but I couldn't go through the doors, couldn't go through the ceiling, just like I can't go through these walls. You know the rest. I flew about the facility looking for a way out before some guys in fatigues shot me with this weird laser, my brain scrambles, and next thing I know I'm stuck in this room, and you're askin' me what I'm doing here. Hmmm? You're saying I saw somethin'? Lady, I'm tellin' ya. I was far too concerned with *escaping*. Travelin' and learnin' and seein' the world is way too important to risk on catchin' a quick peek at some aliens. So there *are* aliens! Okay, well, you shouldn't have done told me that. Tell ya what. You just let me go and we'll call it all even. Won't tell your bosses. Won't tell anyone. What do you mean? Of course that's how that works. You let me out. You never hear from me again. Got no one to talk to, this is the most I've talked since me and Mary were... ... No. Not talking about that. ... Fine. I'll tell you what I saw. I saw you. Not you, you, but what you're *going* to be. You think you're gonna be done here when ya die? Nah, y'all take this secrecy nonsense way too serious. This base is filled up with bound spirits. Plenty to keep me plump for a long, long while. My rule about eatin' humans? Well. We all make exceptions when we gotta. So the way I see it, I've got forever, but this place don't. One way or another, I'm leaving here. Just a question of how many of your colleagues I'll need to eat in the interim. Guess I'll see ya soon.

# Soulmage **Distance was strange on this side of the mortal veil.** The space an object took up was determined not by its physical volume, but by how much it had impacted the living souls of the world. And so in my ethereal form, I passed by mountains the size of sand grains and hearthplaces that loomed like towers. But all that was dwarfed by the planetoid of memory and emotion that I had come all this way to infiltrate. The wide complex was practically a miniature town, and its legend had been contributed by hundreds of thousands of souls. Even as nothing but a memory, it would be difficult to sneak inside. I was up to the task, however. I was nothing more than a figment of imagination; what use would the weapons of the soldiers within be against me? So after analyzing the whirling planetoid of hopes and emotions, I pulled on the fabric of soulspace around me, *remembering* a moment of my life. Soulspace responded, forming a dragon of willpower and memory, and I clambered on, willing it to fly through the void. Landing on the surface of the chaotic mass that represented the fortress-complex, I pressed my ear to the ground, sifting through all the memories this building held. If the secrets I was searching for were anywhere, they'd be in the building's soul. Dismissing the dragon—keeping it manifested was too much of a strain on my mind—I looked into the soul of the fortress... ...and the soul of the fortress looked *back* at me. I screamed and stumbled back as the ground *blinked*, one face, two faces, three, surging out from the ground. "Foolish ghost," the uniformed specter whispered. "Did you think we had no dead of our own? *Even in death, we still serve.*" The soldier lifted their weapon, and the last thing I heard before falling unconscious was the ringing of a distant alarm. A.N. This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts! Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), or r/bubblewriters for more.

[WP] As a free roaming ghost, you finally feel like you can breach and explore Area 51. The moment youre on the base though, alarms begin blaring. "Code 62: Ethereal Intruder detected."

As I looked down at my bullet-riddled corpse, I could only think one thing. *Mom was right.* She'd told me that the voices I heard were all my head, a result of the mental illness that runs in my family -- as opposed to a genuine astrally-projected distress signal from alien lifeforms confined at Area 51 by a shadowy quasi-governmental organization. Now that my body was dead, along with my brain and all its evidently misfiring neurons, there were no voices. Even my obsession with Area 51 was gone. I could remember how I'd spent all my time researching it, poring over every resource I could find on it from the public library to the deep web, but the *need* had vanished the moment my soul, or spirit, or whatever was left stopped being tethered to a flawed human brain. I saw my obsession for what it had truly been: a mere trick played on me by my own organically unhinged psyche. I felt bad about being dead -- mostly for Mom, who'd be devastated when she learned what had happened. If she learned what happened. I'd read that anyone who had to be eliminated for attempting to breach Area 51 was quietly "disappeared", and I remembered believing it was true, but with my new post-mortem clarity, I found much of what I thought I knew about Area 51 and UFOs to be highly suspect. I watched as a medic formally pronounced me dead, and then helped one of the soldiers who'd killed me load my body onto a gurney and roll it away. I wasn't interested in following them -- at least not as much as I was interested in something else. Even though I was no longer driven by the manic hunger to learn the secrets of Area 51 that I'd had in life, it seemed like a shame to waste the opportunity to take a peek inside. So I walked right through the fence and stepped onto the base. Insantly, klaxons blared all around me. A second later, a recorded alert sounded over loudspeakers set up on a nearby pole: *Code 62: Ethereal intruder detected! All personnel initiate standard containment protocol around Hangar 4! This is not a drill!* I froze in surprise, then flinched as two soldiers charged directly towards me. But the men ran past, towards a supply shed -- apparently while *something* on the base could detect me, I was still invisible to the people who worked here. What had the alert said? Hangar 4? That seemed like as good a place as any to look. I sprinted down the line of buildings effortlessly, unencumbered by the limitations of a body. I only had a moment to revel in this newfound freedom to move tirelessly across the ground before a soldier rolling something over the ground crossed my path, and I hit a wall -- except there was no wall. And also, walls should be no impediment to me anymore, as I'd proven by walking through the fence. I looked down at the ground, and then at the soldier continuing on his way, rolling out a white onto the ground at his feet. I'd seen a device like the one he was pushing before, when I was at school, before my illness got bad. It was usually used to make white lines on the grass of athletic fields for various sports, but that clearly wasn't it's purpose here. My search for the secrets of Area 51 had filled my head with all kinds of supposed paranormal lore, enough to guess what they were doing --- the chalk in the device must be infused with powdered salt, purported to repel things like demons and ghosts. Things like me, I realized. I sprinted ahead, doing an end run around the soldier, dodging between and around long lines of salted chalk as they were hastily traced out by Area 51 personnel, my ghostly eyes darting over the painted letters on the many buildings and hangars dotting the base. Just as the soldiers were about to trap me, I managed to get ahead of the one near the doors to the large building labelled *Hangar 4.* I darted inside through the wall without further hesitation. The sight that met me was not what I'd expected. Not an alien spacecraft, or an even an experimental airplane. Just a large black metal crate, set up by itself on a wooden platform inside a circle of salt, with the words "TOP SECRET" stenciled on the side in faded white paint. Nearby, an old man sat on the ground, his head bowed, a dusty cowboy hat shading his eyes. Beside him were two other seated figures, in an equally contemplative posture. These others were, well...*aliens,* of the classic variety. Little gray men with big black eyes, who neither wore, nor seemed to need, any clothing beyond their own skin. As I came to a halt just short of them, staring at the unlikely trio in mute disbelief, the old man looked up at me. He frowned, but his expression seemed more compassionate than angry, and after a moment he let out a long, weary sigh. "Well fellers," he said, glancing between his two alien compatriots, "Looks like them damn feds out there caught themselves *another one."*

*I was...running? But I didn't feel my feet touch the ground. How did...wait I was moving, fast.* "CODE SIXTY TWO, ETHEREAL INTRUDER, DETECTED." *I snapped back to reality, I felt myself in my space, and while I was running I ran into a guard. I closed my eyes and bit the bullet, I tackled the guard and I...and I...oh shit. I'm in this guy's head. ***WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!*** *Oh, hey! How's it?* ***Who the hell are you? Where am I?!*** *You're in the same place I am. I'm in your head.* ***How the fuck-why can't I move?*** *Ah, correction! I'm in your body, but you're in your own head. Don't fight it too much, kid.* Another guard ran around the corner, grabbing us by the shoulder. "Sir! Are you okay?" *I looked at the young man, deep into his clueless eyes and a warm wave of relief washed over me.* "No, you go on ahead, I need a minute to myself." *The soldier ran around the next corner, allowing me to take in the first deep breath I've had in 14 years.*

[WP] As a free roaming ghost, you finally feel like you can breach and explore Area 51. The moment youre on the base though, alarms begin blaring. "Code 62: Ethereal Intruder detected."

What would you do with eternity? Think about it. No, really. What would you do if you could go anywhere, do anything? Never aging, never hurtin'? There is, of course, a catch. You'd have to die first. Now, my dear, death has many flavors. The nature of your life, how you die, all add a certain *je ne sais quoi* to the big ol' stew of your after life experience. You like that? Je. Ne. Sais. Quoi. It's en Francais. I've been practicin'! ... Bah, lighten up, flesh suit. Not everything has to be so serious. What was I sayin'. Right. Was explaining death flavors. So, those stuck in life, get stuck in death. Unable to move past a threshold, a barrier. They're *bound* spirits. Sometimes to a home. Sometimes a person. Could be most anything. You can tell they're bound though, hard to mistake those miserable eyes, the slow gait. Now, others don't stick around at all. Not really sure where they float off too. Space? Some other after life? Couldn't tell ya. Me? I died way back. Headin' west, towards a land of gold and new beginnings. That was our dream. Me and Mary... Eh... Didn't pan out, obviously. No. No details. Let's just say y'all have it luckier than you know with your big water cleaning contraptions. What are they called? Right, treatment plants. Kinda expected actual plants, but y'all keep naming things weird. I toured one last month. I think it was a month. Feels like a month. That's where I got the idea for this latest venture. Overheard some twenty somethings--it's amazin' how long y'all get to live these days, too many of y'all be taking that for granted, it's sad to see. Anyways, sorry, not here to preach. So, I overheard these two men talkin' about raiding Area 51. You know Area 51, I'm sure: Nevada desert, military base, *secret aliens*--that one. Well, curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to head on down meself and check out *the hype*. So there I am, right? Trekked all the way from Washington down through California, and way far out into the desert. Like I said, took a month. Wasn't pleasant either. Had to avoid some nasty spirits on the way through. Almost got chomped at least twice. Oh yeah, might have been exaggerating a bit with the eternity thing. Spirits, err, no real pleasant way to say this. We eat other spirits to stay strong, keep our wits about us. Go too long without eating, and you fade out, and that's it. But eat the wrong things, and you go a bit mad. I try to stick to fresh bugs, fresh animals, but only the dumb ones. Never other humans, never pigs or dogs. Oh, cats? Yeah, no way I could eat a cat, even if I wanted to. Pretty sure a cat is what almost got me, near abouts Palm Springs. But you don't care 'bout none of that, let's get back to the story, yeah? So there I was, right at the fence line. Pass through the fence, no problem. I float up to the facility, brutal concrete thing, big double hangar door. It was cut into a hill, with an airfield on top of the hill. Some kinda underground entrance. Now, as a rule, I try to stay above ground whenever possible. No real reason, just feel deep down like it would be easy to get trapped. Guess I was right. Anyways, I swallow my fear and go through the doors. I'm not *one inch* through, and suddenly I hear alarms blaring. "Code 62! Code 62! Beep beep! Uh oh! There's a ghost!" Just loud as all get out. Y'all really threw me a welcome, let me tell ya. So here I am, freaking out a bit, obviously. I turn around, *and I can't get out*. Don't know what y'all did, but I couldn't go through the doors, couldn't go through the ceiling, just like I can't go through these walls. You know the rest. I flew about the facility looking for a way out before some guys in fatigues shot me with this weird laser, my brain scrambles, and next thing I know I'm stuck in this room, and you're askin' me what I'm doing here. Hmmm? You're saying I saw somethin'? Lady, I'm tellin' ya. I was far too concerned with *escaping*. Travelin' and learnin' and seein' the world is way too important to risk on catchin' a quick peek at some aliens. So there *are* aliens! Okay, well, you shouldn't have done told me that. Tell ya what. You just let me go and we'll call it all even. Won't tell your bosses. Won't tell anyone. What do you mean? Of course that's how that works. You let me out. You never hear from me again. Got no one to talk to, this is the most I've talked since me and Mary were... ... No. Not talking about that. ... Fine. I'll tell you what I saw. I saw you. Not you, you, but what you're *going* to be. You think you're gonna be done here when ya die? Nah, y'all take this secrecy nonsense way too serious. This base is filled up with bound spirits. Plenty to keep me plump for a long, long while. My rule about eatin' humans? Well. We all make exceptions when we gotta. So the way I see it, I've got forever, but this place don't. One way or another, I'm leaving here. Just a question of how many of your colleagues I'll need to eat in the interim. Guess I'll see ya soon.

*I was...running? But I didn't feel my feet touch the ground. How did...wait I was moving, fast.* "CODE SIXTY TWO, ETHEREAL INTRUDER, DETECTED." *I snapped back to reality, I felt myself in my space, and while I was running I ran into a guard. I closed my eyes and bit the bullet, I tackled the guard and I...and I...oh shit. I'm in this guy's head. ***WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!*** *Oh, hey! How's it?* ***Who the hell are you? Where am I?!*** *You're in the same place I am. I'm in your head.* ***How the fuck-why can't I move?*** *Ah, correction! I'm in your body, but you're in your own head. Don't fight it too much, kid.* Another guard ran around the corner, grabbing us by the shoulder. "Sir! Are you okay?" *I looked at the young man, deep into his clueless eyes and a warm wave of relief washed over me.* "No, you go on ahead, I need a minute to myself." *The soldier ran around the next corner, allowing me to take in the first deep breath I've had in 14 years.*

The prompt for today is a classic setting. A contract has been signed with the devil for your characters soul. Use this writing prompt however you wish... possible questions to consider (or ignore): Why did they sign the contract? What did they get for signing it? Where did they sign it? What was their life like before signing it? Did they know it was the devil? As always, enjoy and have fun writing. Cheers!

[WP] The contract for my soul

FUCK. How do I keep getting into this sort of mess? I thought she was 18. She *said* she was 20. "Dvacet." She was pouring beer for shitsakes. Or maybe just wiping tables. (What passes for child labor in Prague?) Isn't 16 the age of consent? Our eyes locked for just a skip-- I caught her staring. She immediately looked away and stroked that messy mousy brown hair back behind her ears. She was nervous. It made me smile. Later, when she walked by, she was tightly clenching her full crimson lips, as if trying to keep from blurting some stupidity, and with eyes *fixated* only on the safe zone behind the bar -- in such a deliberate avoidance it made me proud. I was chain smoking out back by the dumpsters when she came out the back door. "Where you goin' with that mopwater Cinderella?" was probably the worst pickup line imaginable, but all that mattered to her was that I spoke American. Cowboy. I didn't even really notice her tacky plaid apron and penny loafers until now in the salty alley light. Two weeks in this awful hellhole and I can't make shit for Czech, but I didn't need a dictionary for shy blue eyes and blushing smiles. I imagined that the soft little 80 word explanation that came next boiled down to, "Wait here," as she rushed back inside. I'm obsessing over which state I left the hotel room in when she's already back, wearing a black sequin shirt and those same scuffy brown shoes. In tow is her posse from the bar-- a chubby girl and her over-cologned waify boyfriend. (In retrospect, they were kids too? I can never piece it together until it's too late...) My mind is still fixated on whether my bed is tidy while we gallop over to another joint, just down the street. Apparently AquaVelva here knows the bouncer-- he gets us in with a chest bump rather than 200 Crowns apiece... This place is actually full! Now where the hell was this club earlier? My first thought is to ditch these nerds, but I'm kinda giddy hearing that bassline and being in a crowded room, so I buy the girls drinks and scope out the lasers-and-mirrors deal. We pretend to dance in a stupid circle, which is fast boring, so I make off to pee. FUCK. Ok, what happens next. Somehow I manage to buy some coke, the bathroom door won't lock, and the only dry surface inside is my passport, so my butt is jamming the door shut while my shaky hands are trying to remember this stupid ritual. There's a bang on the door. Am I snorting too loud? Is this obvious? FUCK. Is this one of those "don't care" countries? Or am I gonna get strung up by the balls? This is exciting. Done. ("Plate is all clean mom!" pops in my head.) I swallow the square of saran wrap with its powdery residue, just in case, then release my butt from the door to wash my face. I open the door and flash the line of people a smile. I feel like I just stepped out of a black limousine. I slick my hair back with water off my face. There's my girlfriend! (Why did I think of her like that?) I hope she's not here to pee, because I feel like dancing, so I grab her and push back into the dance hall. I twirl her and crap. She's loving it. (Where did I learn this?) Apparently they changed DJs, because this minimalist house is fuckingsick. We're making out, I high five some gimp with an NY shirt, there's girls dancing on the bar tables, the DJ now has a FIRE machine, and the mojitos are fantastic. This is the best goddamn night ever. My bump is wearing off, but the girl is still all giggly and hoppy. I guide her by the hand out the dancefloor, past the bouncers, then glance back. She gives a big grin, so ok, she knows what's happening. Taxi taxi! -- Taxík Dvacet. We're kissing in the backseat when she climbs on my lap. My hand goes down her pants... hers go down mine... aaaaand haha, we're fucking in the goddamn taxi.... It ends. Pants get pulled up. Apparently we've been at my hotel for a bit, but the gray-haired cabbie doesn't care. (I bet he's seen it all.) She turns sideways in the backseat (just to look out the window?) then just sits there holding her knee against her chest. She's just quiet. Upset maybe? Everyone is quiet. My heart sinks. Why did the mood change so suddenly? I feel responsible, like I did something terrible. Everything seemed passionate and romantic, perhaps a bit hedonistic, just a few moments ago. She blutters something to the cabbie. I wish I spoke Czech. He responds in almost a whisper with his old man voice. I don't think they're talking about me. I step outside for a cigarette, but I need to pay the man. I circle around the back of the car, and see the back of the girl's head as walk past to the driver's side window. She's not coming. "Here- 1000 Crowns." That sounds like a lot, but Czech money is like that. I'm overpaying, but she needs to get home. There's a tip in there too. I feel like I'm apologizing in cash. I shuffle back to my room. I should be happy. Drugs and sex. And now I'm in the clear. But I can't get over the question, "What the fuck just happened?" I'm dense. Ok ok- I didn't rape her. No one said no. Maybe we shouldn't have done it in the taxi? Cabbie was quiet. (Maybe I'm just deaf?!?) But shady shit seems like par for the course around here. Was she underage? Why would *she* care? Why would it hit her so suddenly? What the fuck just happened? My room is meticulously clean except for the sweaty shirt drying on the chair. I go to bed without brushing my teeth. Still- what the fuck just happened? --- **Knock knock knock.** It's morning. I leap up in my boxers, then open the door a crack, with my half-naked waist hanging out of view. My first thought- this is the ugliest cleaning lady I've ever seen. She's wrinkled and at least 2000 years old. Dressed in rags. And plastic jewelry. Glass beads. Ratty shiny fabric. Sequins. As I'm preparing for another mime game, the old lady is actually speaking English. And confidently, too. **"You need to come with me."** Ohmyfuckinggod. My heart is lurching so hard, I'm sure she can see it. I can feel my pulse on my neck. My voice cracks like I'm 12 again. "N,no." She just stares at me. She narrows her eyes. I wish I could shut the door. Hell, I wish she was a police officer, so I could just get handcuffed and this would end. I'm paralyzed between her gaze and my guilt. I still don't even know what the fuck I did wrong. **"You have a rrrotten soul."** This cut the stalemate and then I just slammed the door. I knew she could do nothing. I heard her walk away. Still, I was scared shitless. Was she coming back? How did she find me? (Oh right, this whole thing took place *right outside* the hotel.) Hell, "Where's the American?" would probably be enough. I need to check out. I need to go. I need to leave this country. I wish I could leave this *soul*. --- "So, after 39 years, you can imagine how *thrilled* I was to finally sign this goddamned soul over to the devil."

Collette licked her lips as she looked in her hand mirror. She put it face down on the dresser before picking it up and looking in it again. She did this three times before she actually accepted that the reflection staring back at her was her own. She lit a cigarette with one hand, still holding up her silver mirror in front of her face. She studied what she saw; big dark brown eyes with long dark eyelashes and some emerging crows feet. Olive skin, perfectly smooth exept for a few laugh lines around her dusky pink mouth. She touched her cheek with her ring finger, still holding her cigarette and marvelled at her transformation. Even her hair was perfect. Thick and glossy, as black as night during the new moon. Collette steeled herself and put out her cigarette and stood up. She let her dressing gown fall to the floor in a cascade of sheer white gossamer, pooling round her naked feet. She began to move her mirror down past her face to her neck. Her lips parted slighty as she drank in the youth of her reflection. She continued moving the mirror down her body, carefully admiring her chest and her taught stomach, laughing at the curve of her hips and the luxurious hair between her legs. When she got to her thighs she threw her head back and laughed. Throwing her mirror on her velvet couch behind her, she ran to the balcony door, pulled back the curtains and grabbed the silver-plated handle. She took a deep breath, gently carressing it, then slowly dragged the door open. For the first time in 30 years she stepped outside into sunlight and Colette finally felt like part of the living world again.

[WP] Someone on the moon successfully gives birth for the first time in history. In that moment, the entire population of humanity has the following message beamed into their minds: "Congratulations! You are now an intergalactic civilisation, we will be sending representatives in two days."

"Congratulations! You are now an intergalactic civilization, we will be sending—" “Yeah. That’s what I heard, too.” “What do you think it means?” “Aliens are turning up, I guess.” “Yeah, maybe, but why intergalactic?” “Hm?” “You could argue for inter*planetary*. I mean, inter...celestial-object is more correct.” “Semantics.” “Something smart enough to put the same message in every head on and off the planet would know the difference. So: What does it mean?” “...hell if I know.” “Maybe...maybe they’ll be giving us space technology?” “Maybe.” “I mean, given the vastness of the universe, other intelligent life is likely in another galaxy if not our own. Maybe they’ll give us the tech to come visit. Maybe—” “Whole lot of maybes, Doug. Hows about we wait and see, huh?” “...fffine.” “...You’re gonna spend the next two days mumbling and mopping aren’t you?” “I just want to know what it *means*!”

Kahliah felt it, the sudden release that meant it was finally time. Sarah gasped, half in disbelief, half in joyful anticipation. "He's finally coming?!" They spent 13 hours in the med bay, their coworkers all waiting in triage. THE FIRST Extraterrestrial birth! Fiction from Earth constantly warned about the effects of incubation in space, going so far as to ban relationships on spacefaring vessels, but someone had to be the first. If Humanity was to reach the stars, they had to know how the whole process would pan out. Kahliah volunteered, she and Sarah had always wanted a child, and they wanted their child to be truly special. What better way than to have the first baby off world? 9 months of carrying a child had proven to be comparably easier in the 1/6th gravity of our moon, though it was not without...minor...complications. The prime of which were the cravings. Scientists had been woefully unprepared to respond to the constant nutritional adjustments that cravings usually signaled. Primarily because Kahliah would get the dietary adjustment through the "Universal Supplement" regimen, without being able to satisfy the desire to combine pickles, sour cream, and nacho cheese. Admittedly the pain of joints and lower back and been a minor inconvenience, weighing only 12.25 Kilograms lead to a complete lack of ankle swelling and very little spinal strain. Not to mention, she hardly felt the weight of her belly even today, as she had calmly walked into the procedure room. That aside, it seems the final step was still one that left Kaliah thinking she never wished to experience this again. The stifling silence of the procedure room was suddenly interrupted with the familiar sounds of a new born's first breath, followed by the unmistakable screech of lungs that felt air for the first time. ITS OUR BABY BOY The infant had hardly been placed in Kahliah's arms when everyone heard it. A firm, yet congratulatory voice sounded at the forefront of everyone's mind. "Congratulations! You are now an intergalactic civilization. We will be sending representatives in two days." Sarah couldn't help but murmur "I must be going crazy..."

[WP] You were relentlessly mocked growing up whenever others found out your superpower was "Feelings". You just found out the government considers you a universal threat and has been monitoring you closely.

"Emtion kid! Emtion kid! You gonna die!" I remember those little kids mocking me back then. They think their own superpowers we're very strong. "Telekinesis", "Darkness", "Time-Travel". All of them seem cool simply because of their little fancy names. For me, however, mines were very basic...at least in their eyes. Just you controlling their feelings. They think that they can control it. That they can control me. Staring at one of the bullies, my pupils dilated. The bully slowly stops mocking me, a tear falling down his face. Turning towards the rest of them, he punches one of them in the face. "Ugh!" That bully fell down, holding his cheek. "T-The hell, Alex?!" "I-I didn't mean...to..." He slowly turns to me. "You! You did this!" "People never learn until they get karma, right? You don't control me, I control you". I stare at all of them, a smirk forming on my face. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For the longest time, people thought they could control me because I am "basic". But once they met my gaze, they fear me. I honestly like that feeling. I wanted to be fear. And I think these bullies learn a variable lesson they will never forget. Never.

Feelings. To most people a fleeting fancy, a mood only to pass over like a cloud on a sunny day. Not to me. To me feelings are a resource. I stock happiness, shelve love and infatuation and bury self-loathing. As a kid I unloaded what I could, when I could. This didn't earn me friends, but it kept me sane. These days I have few friends, but those who are, are golden. I'm very careful about telling them every thing. I mean, they can never know what I do for a living. They think I'm a therapist. That my power of 'feelings', is useful to treat traumatised patients. And it is. It's just that the Government realised that my potential went a lot further. Sometimes I get to interrogate. Empty my stocks of bottled fear. Other times I seduce to extract information. I have stoked the fires of rebellions with kegs of pride and defiance. But most of all I have assassinated people by unloading my vault of self-loathing. And that wouldn't even be hard, I'd read some beauty magazines, scroll around on Instagram (one of several prepared to prime my talents). I'd fill myself to the brim with feelings of shame, of uncertainty, of self-doubt. Then to top it all off and to really turn the cocktail toxic I'd visit the gender clinic where I would treat trans kids and alleviate them from all of their negative feelings. I'd draw them deep into myself to ferment and mature my cocktail. The last part was easiest. The government would bring me into contact with my target. Then I would just unload my blend of toxicity layer for layer. I'd work on their pride first. Find the flaws like magazines taught me. Then I'd turn on the fomo from Instagram. And when self-doubt and uncertainty are firmly taking root I unload all that remains. Lastly I wall it all off with shame and regret. Any onlooker wouldn't notice a thing. It might look like a conversation between friends, or a journalist interviewing a celebrity. But once the feelings are set in place. They will do their job. People fade into obscurity, hang themselves, thrown themselves off high buildings or shoot themselves on the head. The government has given me the codename Eros. As like in the myth I fire my arrows, some are love or lust or even happiness. But my most feared arrow is the lead arrow of self-loathing. Those who know think I'm not affected. That feelings are just a passing fancy, just a mood. But they forget that to fire the arrow, I have to make it first. I have, in my mind, died a thousand deaths by suicide. I have experienced the deepest love and brightest passions, but also the blackest depressions and terrifying fears. I am my own wordt nightmare.

[WP] You were relentlessly mocked growing up whenever others found out your superpower was "Feelings". You just found out the government considers you a universal threat and has been monitoring you closely.

Everyone gets one, from the moment you're born you get a power. At first, you needed to wait until it manifested, roughly around 12 or 14, but science made it so it's as easy as a blood test you take when you're born. Now, some of the results are not as clear as others, so you still need to wait to see the power behind what came from the result. My result was one of the strangest that anyone had ever seen “Feelings” Since childhood, I was a huge empath and all of the other children since ever, bullied me to the ground for it. Everyone told me that I didn't have real power, I mean I'm not hyper-strong like mom, or time-controlling like my brother, or invisible like dad. I was just a feeling type of guy. And then I turned 12, and I discovered that feelings, meant that some people would truly fall for me, I mean, not in a crush way, a full-on madly in love way. And that's how it started, I was never single. I was the favourite student of every teacher, I was everyone's confident and strangers would usually find me trustworthy. And then it came yesterday, my 17 birthday, and for the first time, I was truly mad at someone. Jake and I were in a relationship for 6 months and he was the first to ever cheat on me. No one ever even thought about it. I guess his way of love was strange. But something sparked. I don't know what took over me but I was mad, and all I wanted was for him to feel as hurt as I did. And so he did. He looked me in the eye as he started sobbing, and then he vanished. Doctors called it broken heart syndrome, which is when for extreme emotions, your heart malfunctions. I've read about it in class, and usually, it's not fatal, but Jake was gone. I killed him. At that moment, an officer appeared out of thin air, Maybe a teleporter or an invisible, or even a shapeshifter. Anyway, he escorted me to his car, my mother wasn't home, and dad was nowhere to be seen, so I just followed him, and didn't resist. Much to my surprise, we didn't go to the police station, instead, we went straight to the JPH (Justice of Power House) our highest-level institution on research and protection of humans since we got our powers figured out. Entering the building they took me to an isolation room, a white room specially made so no power could manifest in it. And a lady dressed in white started talking. “You are a weapon Chriss, we've monitored you for as long as you've lived because we know that your power can be of great help or great destruction, my work is making it the former. You see, Feelings is one of the most destructive power, not only can you do something like what you did to that guy, but much more. Manipulation of the will, making everyone do as you say, even die for you at your command, psychosomatic effects, physical consequences from the sentiments you cause, and much more. You can cause illnesses, as well as cure them, force the will of the body to heal itself, and with my help, even prevent death. So, I'm hoping you will cooperate with us, and this can be great” The lady extended her hand and I, in awe, shook it. Knowing that this power could potentially be my way to prove them all wrong. And with it, my decision of becoming their saviour or their doom

Feelings. To most people a fleeting fancy, a mood only to pass over like a cloud on a sunny day. Not to me. To me feelings are a resource. I stock happiness, shelve love and infatuation and bury self-loathing. As a kid I unloaded what I could, when I could. This didn't earn me friends, but it kept me sane. These days I have few friends, but those who are, are golden. I'm very careful about telling them every thing. I mean, they can never know what I do for a living. They think I'm a therapist. That my power of 'feelings', is useful to treat traumatised patients. And it is. It's just that the Government realised that my potential went a lot further. Sometimes I get to interrogate. Empty my stocks of bottled fear. Other times I seduce to extract information. I have stoked the fires of rebellions with kegs of pride and defiance. But most of all I have assassinated people by unloading my vault of self-loathing. And that wouldn't even be hard, I'd read some beauty magazines, scroll around on Instagram (one of several prepared to prime my talents). I'd fill myself to the brim with feelings of shame, of uncertainty, of self-doubt. Then to top it all off and to really turn the cocktail toxic I'd visit the gender clinic where I would treat trans kids and alleviate them from all of their negative feelings. I'd draw them deep into myself to ferment and mature my cocktail. The last part was easiest. The government would bring me into contact with my target. Then I would just unload my blend of toxicity layer for layer. I'd work on their pride first. Find the flaws like magazines taught me. Then I'd turn on the fomo from Instagram. And when self-doubt and uncertainty are firmly taking root I unload all that remains. Lastly I wall it all off with shame and regret. Any onlooker wouldn't notice a thing. It might look like a conversation between friends, or a journalist interviewing a celebrity. But once the feelings are set in place. They will do their job. People fade into obscurity, hang themselves, thrown themselves off high buildings or shoot themselves on the head. The government has given me the codename Eros. As like in the myth I fire my arrows, some are love or lust or even happiness. But my most feared arrow is the lead arrow of self-loathing. Those who know think I'm not affected. That feelings are just a passing fancy, just a mood. But they forget that to fire the arrow, I have to make it first. I have, in my mind, died a thousand deaths by suicide. I have experienced the deepest love and brightest passions, but also the blackest depressions and terrifying fears. I am my own wordt nightmare.

[WP] You were relentlessly mocked growing up whenever others found out your superpower was "Feelings". You just found out the government considers you a universal threat and has been monitoring you closely.

"Give me a break." My bully said to me, as I fell to the bathroom floor. "Why would I be scared of some loser like you?" As he said that, his cheeks grew pale, and expression changed to that of shock. He clutched his heart as a tear ran down his cheek. "What are you doing to him?!" His friend shouted at me. As I got back up to look my bully in the eye, his friend ran to find a teacher. "I don't like doing this." I told him. "I don't like making people feel like that." The tears began to flow faster as I spoke. "...I really am sorry about your mom. Nobody should have to feel like that. But if you don't leave me alone, you'll have to feel just like this everyday...maybe even worse. Do you understand?" He nodded as snot started running down his face. On my 16th birthday, I was sitting down in my parents' living room. Some politician was droning on about how we have to resegregate our schools. "God, I hate this guy." I said as we watched his speech. My mom reached for the remote, but I stopped her. "Wait." I said "Let me try something." I stepped closer to the TV, and focused on the man's face. Sweat started to run from his forehead, and his hands began to shake. Soon, his eyes were darting around the room. "Is there something wrong, sir." His interviewer asked. "Where are they?!" The politician said. The interviewer looked confused. "Where are those f***ing illegals!?" The politician seemed to lock eyes with someone out of frame, and began to scream. "You won't take my country, you God D***ed invader! Get away from me! Get away!" The camera feed cut off, and was replaced by a message stating that they were having technical difficulties. "I don't think he's going to be a problem anymore, mom." I said as I walked into the kitchen. Over the next ten years, leaders from all over the world were influenced by what they called 'The mental scourge'. Theorized to be a case of mass histeria by the news networks. After it's 'outbreak', most officials tried to avoid it by concealing their opinions the best that they could, which seemed to work for a short period. However, about three years into the scourge they realized that they were mistaken. In the year 2018, the U.N planned a meeting to address an eastern European president, and their excessive use of force towards a neighboring country. However, they found it unnecessary that they hold a meeting at all after the president decided not only to end it's military campaign, but to completely demilitarize the nation. The reason they gave, was simply a change of heart. It was only decided that this was not some form of mass histeria, when a central Asian leader decided to denuclearize the country. When asked why, he exclaimed that whenever he tried to launch a missile, he was reminded of the death of his father. The grief was just too much to bear. After this event, almost every nation in the world began a man hunt for a meta human that can controll emotions. Most telepaths had been questioned about the matter, but claimed that they could only read thoughts, not control emotions. On top of that, not even the most powerful telepaths could read thoughts an entire nation away from them. This lead to Interpol's most wanted fugitive, being whoever they found to be capable of the crime. By the year 2020, war was a notion of the past. Every war that had been declared was called off in a matter of minutes, and when it wasn't none of the soldiers were willing to fight. For a good while, I didn't need to use my powers. Nobody dared to do anything malicious, or else they would be reminded of their former lovers, or of the worst day of their lives. If they still persisted, then it wouldn't be difficult to make them feel the collective terror of every civilian casualty ever. Truth be told, I got bored very quickly. Of course I would have to sway a crooked judge here and there, but for the most part my work was done. That is of course, until I found a new calling. "and the worst part is," the young woman said through stifled tears. "I know he's right. I'm just so stupid." I handed the girl a tissue and leaned forward in my chair. "Miss Blackwell, you are not an idiot by any means. He is." She looked up at me with disbelief in her eyes. "I'm going to break my own rule, here. Usually I give my patients options to choose from, but I'm just going to tell you what you need to do." She blew her nose into the tissue. "What should I do, then?" "Run. This man is dangerous, and you deserve better. If you don't have anyone to go to, I know a place you'll be safe. The best part, is that they allow pets, so you don't have to leave your dog behind." Her eyes lit up as I said this. "But, I can't do that. I just don't think I have the courage." "Miss Blackwell, look at me." I smiled at her as she gazed at my face. Her tears had stopped, and she began to produce a feeling of strength. She straightened her back, and threw the tissue away. "I think you have the courage now." I handed her a card for the shelter, and told her to give me an update when she gets there. "Excuse me, Doctor?" I heard my receptionist say from her desk. "Your next patient is here." "Send him in, Angela." A tall man walked into the office with a deep scar on his cheek. I asked him to sit down while he explained to me what was wrong. After about forty minutes he had explained how he was experiencing severe PTSD from the abuse he endured as a child. "I just don't think I'll ever get better, Doc. Nothing can ever make me feel happy again." I looked into his eyes, just like I did with every patient. "I think I can remedy that."

I trudge my way home, scraping my feet on the ground. Once again I was tormented for my powers. Now 15, I've learned how to harness my ability to sense exactly what another person is thinking, but all that did is give me the nickname 'Mr Emotional'. The worst part is how their emotions SCREAM how they find it HILARIOUS. My crime today? A girl came in terrified, even though she was all smiles. I tried to talk to her privately, for both our sakes, and just as I found out one of the teachers had been coming onto her and she didn't know what to do, someone saw us and the mocking began. At least it was only directed at me, though it still hurt when someone said 'causing girls to cry again?' As I reach my neighbourhood, I notice a figure approaching me. No, two. I recognise them. One of them is Vein, known for his control over an individual's muscles. But that's not who I have my eye on. "MINDTRUDER!" I exclaim. The thing about Mindtruder is not only do her powers and my own have similarities, but her life was similar to mine - no-one understanding, no-one caring... sure, she became a villain, but the fact she could keep going every day helped give ME strength. In a way, she was kind of a role model to me. I excitedly run up to the pair. "Well... Purge was right, Connor here DOES admire you, miss" Vein teases. "Wait... you know my name? Then you two being here..." "It's not a coincidence" Mindtruder finishes. She kneels down so she's eye-level with me. "Are you aware of the potential chaos your powers can create?" I freeze, thinking back to when I was younger, ruining people's lives, blurting out things without a second thought... "Oh, you have experience with that" Mindtruder continues. "In which case" Vein jumps in, "you won't mind coming with us to the foundation, right? Government want you locked up, they've been tracking you, but Warper is eager to meet you." I look up. "This sounds like an arrest..." Mindtruder is about to speak again, but I hold up my hand. "Listen, if there's one person I know will understand me, it's Mindtruder. I'll go with you two, but she's the ONLY one allowed to touch me." Mindtruder stumbles back in surprise. Vein just falls down, causing me to laugh and Mindtruder to chuckle. She walks over to her partner. "I'll need the handcuffs." I hold my hands out and Mindtruder proceeds to chain them. "Government orders. They want to know we've got you secured." To be on the safe side, I focus my power on her. Her expression is dripping with genuine concern. I glance at Vein for fun, and OH BOY is he embarrassed! "You can't hide it from *me*, Vein. You're absolutely flustered!" "Wha- WATCH YOURSELF!" Vein looks ready to pop, and I chuckle again. "Sorry, sorry. I do really mean it, too. I don't fake my emotions - when you're always surrounded BY emotions, you can't lie about your own." I give an apologetic smile, and we begin heading our way to Warper. **REHABILITATION FOUNDATION =WARPER=** "Ah, you must be Connor" I remark. "That's right" Connor declares proudly. "But before anyone can give you their nickname for me, my super name is 'Empathereal'." "Good name" I smile. "Now, I hope you understand, with the government considering you a threat and the amount of people who need help when they get here, especially emotionally, you'll be kept here for your work." "Wait... I'm hired? Just like that?" Connor looks puzzled. A chuckle sounds from nearby. Purge. "We hire EVERYONE with superpowers. Besides, do you WANT to be back at school? Isn't it boring there?" "More like humiliating. I'm basically a joke. Yeah, you're right, if I'm gonna be mocked for helping people in my school, then I'd rather be here and appreciated." Connor grins. I grin as well. "I'm glad you're on board. And I think you'll be really helpful in getting through to a girl around your age." My face drops. "She's very emotional, and has all but blocked everything away. Even Mindtruder, despite using her powers successfully, can't get her to open up." "On it! Take me to her!" Empathereal declares. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ This story is a part of my series, [It's Not Just Business.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xoduo6/its_not_just_business/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out!