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Post by Trevrizent on May 19, 2015 6:32:38 GMT
They were both angels, in their own way. One the avenging, fallen sort. The other the risen being of light. It was easy to tell them apart, for they looked their respective roles. The darker, burning star of hatred and greed bore the blackest of hair and the reddest of eyes. Eye. One glowed red while one shone blue. The other, facing off against this burning beast, his hair was a moon white shine with eyes blue as a turquoise sky. Only, the fallen could glare, and the risen could not see. The fallen angel was lost in the torment of the misery he felt, breathed, and enacted. With every twist of a man’s body, every drop of blood that stained the ground, he could see and hear and feel and witness every cringe worthy moment. A thump-bump-shatter sort of pulse that played out in his heart and drummed out in the darkness. When he was alone under the earth, drawing closer to its hell-like core, he could create all the hell he wanted. The risen angel was lost in the appearance of innocence. Exuding a weakness because of his light, he paced the halls of the house of wickedness, and slowly turned his head away from the sights. Like a Stephen King Shining, he witnessed a sick sort of story behind every door. Down every hall played a dark tone of ghostly cellos and bleeding violins. But still he shone. A bubble of heaven spread from his light, shrouding those who stepped inside with a vapor of peace and security. In his presence, one could find peace. But they were both their own kind of sick lie. The fallen longed for the risen. He reached out and took hold of the only part of his heart that could beat along with the broken. For to break was to be good. To shatter was to be strong. He could break and shatter over and over for the one that inspired the final emotion he could cling to: love. Love was his saving grace. The risen longed to fall. To embrace the darkness staring back at him. If only so he could put to rest the war torn heart that tore holes inside his chest. Every heart string snapped. The thumps turned to silence. The hollow hole inside him was caving in. Everyone he loved only met his light with shallow words and filth drenched poison. Every stabbing and shooting was a mere feather-touch compared to the agony wrought by the things he died to save. What truly makes an angel? The fallen that rise or the risen that fall? Is it the place they are at? The pinnacle and the depth? Or is it the moment they leave the crossroads forever, and decide once and for all, their own fates.
~~~~~~~~~~ Prompt for Dawny: Was that thing even real?
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dawny
New Member
Posts: 16
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Post by dawny on May 20, 2015 5:04:19 GMT
Was that thing even real? No. It was too innocent to be real. He could never have lived it.
He ran off the cliff and fell to his death, down there in the darkness, in the nothingness filled with dark dreams. “Castor, sweet child, open your eyes.” He opened his eyes and saw golden hair and golden eyes and a sweet smile and hand on the side of his face. “Mom?” he asked. “Lay still, my sweet,” she said and her voice was soothing chamomile and honey. “Just a moment more, help is coming.” “Help?” She stroked his hair and smiled softly. “You’re safe now. You’re such a good boy, I’m so proud of you. You deserve a present. What do you want, my sweet? You can ask for anything at all.” “All I want is not to be scared anymore.” “Of course, my dear. Of course. You’ll never have to be scared again. Lay still now, sweet. Help is here. Open your mouth for you medicine.” “Medicine? Will it make the pain go away?” “Yes, my love. It will make all the pain go away.” Castor opened his mouth, and everything became shadows. Smoke poured down his throat and he drowned but he couldn’t cough. It choked him and seared him from his throat to his toes all he felt was fire. And then nothing. Filled with shadows and dark dreams. “Castor, open your eyes.” His eyes opened and saw golden hair and blue eyes and a hand with a number on it. “Stand up, Castor,” the blue eyes commanded and Castor stood. “Do you remember what you came here to get?” the blue eyes asked. “Yes.” “Good. It’s yours now.” The hand with a number on it gave him a box and Castor took it. “Are you scared, Castor?” the blue eyes asked. “No.” “Good. Do you remember who sent you here?” the blue eyes asked. “Yes.” “Good. Remind them why they fear me. Will you do that?” the blue eyes asked. “Yes.” “Good boy. Now go,” the blue eyes commanded. And Castor went.
Was that thing real? Yes. It was too horrible not to be real. He could never have imagined it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For Nii: Can You Hear The People Sing?
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Star
New Member
Posts: 14
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Post by Star on May 25, 2015 22:39:12 GMT
They bombed Beijing and Chicago. Three million people died in a day. And then they relayed their ultimatum. It showed on every TV tuned into BBC, CNN, and HBS, cutting over the pictures of our broken satellites, panicked reporters and increasingly high resolution picture of the alien ship orbiting the planet. It had no words, just a series of images; the University of Chicago’s Pile-1 nuclear reactor, MIT’s tokomak, humans bowing, a scene from Star Trek with an engineer proclaiming the warp core was broken, scene from Oblivion of the water collectors, and finally an image of unfamiliar technology that could only be a weapons bank. The message was clear. Their engine was broken, they needed fuel and water and expected our cooperation or they’d kill more. The president of the United States and the Dictator of China both proclaimed states of emergency for their countries. The UN convened and the five big NPT countries debated using their arsenals, but in the end they decided the radioactive fallout and the EMP made that course too dangerous. Instead they told NASA to ready a rocket that would hold five scientists and twenty special ops soldiers. Minkey has always known that the world would react like this if aliens ever made contact. She couldn’t believe it when the President of the United States personally called her and asked her to join the mission, since she had a degree in astrobiology and all. All the stories she’d spend her nights reading were coming true, and she’d actually be playing a part. They were sending her to space! To an alien ship! “Don’t get me wrong,” She’d told her mother. “I’m scared, but this is so cool!” “I wish you wouldn’t go.” He mother looked pale, her lips pressed together. “I know mom, you’re supposed to worry. But I’m 30, so it’s really my choice.” “Why couldn’t Anders go? He has much more experience in this than you.” “Mom, nobody has any experience in this. We don’t know what we don’t know. Besides, Anders has horrible vision, they can’t send him.” “They could.” Minkey heard her mother say as she headed out of the room. She shook her head affectionately, like she’d give up a chance to be the hero of her own story.
It took Minkey about two days to realize that she never wanted to be a hero. She threw up when they reached Zero G and started feeling faint when the ship came into view around the Earth and they immediately trained what could only be guns on them. Lieutenant Gorgenson hailed them and tried to explain that they had peaceful intentions. The guns did not go down, but the aliens didn’t shoot either. Minkey closed her eyes and waited until they were docked. Then her companion, doctor Sung Ji, poked her in the arm and motioned for her to get up. They had docked inside the spaceship, and all of the soldiers were already exiting. Minkey unclicked herself and accepted the hand Sung Ji offered to pull herself up. It was still null gravity, so they had to pull themselves over the exit. It took them a few minutes to, and by the time they got there everyone else was assembled, hanging on to the outside of the ship. Sung Ji gave her a nod, and pushed herself through. Minkey gulped and followed her out. Waiting for them were a dozen robots with guns. Lieutenant Gorgenson has pushed himself forward and was now hanging in front of them. He turned when Minkey and Sung Ji exited. “Well, it’s about time a clown showed up.” He snapped. “One of you get over here.” Minkey glanced at Sung Ji, who looked at her, and the over at the other three scientists who were already outside, muttering to themselves and not paying attention to the Lieutenant. He obviously had been waiting for Minkey, the only other American, but Minkey didn’t show any sign of letting go of the door handle, so Sung Ji pushed herself forward to hang next to the Liutenant. “What?” she asked. “Exactly my question. That’s what you scientists are here to find out, so stop fucking around and start doing some examining.” Minkey couldn’t see Sung Ji’s face anymore, but she assumed the other scientist was rolling her eyes. Sung Ji didn’t respond to him, but turned, using Gorgenson, to face the robots and started gesturing with her hands. After a minute one of the robots moved, startling Sung Ji, so she pushed herself back, again using the lieutenant. He didn’t look very happy about being pushed forward. Minkey reached out to catch Sung Ji’s hand and pull her back to the ship, and they both turned to watch as the robot held up a kind of screen, and started playing the same series of images that had broadcasted before. Lieutenant Gorgenson shook his head. “We will not give up our resources. You need to leave.” The robot didn’t seem to notice that he’d talked. It just showed the same series of messages. “What’s going on?” One of the solders asked glancing back and Minkey and Sung Ji. “I don’t know. They obviously can’t speak English.” Then what are we supposed to do?” “I don’t know!” Minkey whispered back with more force. “Military not thought out well.” Sung Ji said raising her eyebrows. “Yea- watch out!” One of the robots lunged at Sung Ji, grabbing her around the waist. Minkey screamed, desperately trying to pushed herself back, but the robot jumped forward ad grabbed her as well. Sung Ji struggled for a minute, then went limp. “Stop. Is no use!” Miney curled herself into a ball and made herself go still. She squeezed her eyes shut, then realized she couldn’t bear to not know what was going on, so opened them again. The soldiers had attacked when the robots did, and had managed to destroy a fair amount of them, but that did no good. As she watched one of the soldiers was shot, and he went still, the air hissing out of his suit. Minkey thought she was going to throw up again. She saw two more of the soldiers killed before the rest were subdued. And then the robots started moving, dragging them all farther into the ship. Each robot threw its cargo of two or three humans into a separate room, and locked them there. Minkey took a little comfort from being able to huddle in the dark, holding onto Sung Ji. “It’ll be okay.” Sung Ji lied, but Minkey nodded anyway. “Yeah. We’ll be fine. We can get Nobel Prizes when we get home.” She laughed nervously. “Yes, we get Nobels.” Sung Ji nodded.
They didn’t. As soon as contact was broken with the space team the UN convened again, and the Chinese said on no uncertain terms that they were deploying the Empress. The United States and Britain could do nothing mostly because they did not believe that China had gone through with is 40 year old plans to make a bomb bigger than the Tsar. The Chinese dictator, on the suggestion of his science team, waiting until the alien ship was over the center of the Pacific and then he launched the Empress, a 70 megaton thermonuclear missile. It destroyed the ship, and the human team, and knocked out electronics in ten countries, including Hawaii, the Marshal Islands, Tokelau, and a small island claimed by New Zealand, and nearly 30 million people were evacuated from different areas die to the atmospheric fallout. An estimated 9000 people died, but earth gave up none of their resources.
~~~~~~~~~~ For Dawny : If you've really lived forever, how were the dinosaurs, how was the formation of the earth, hmm?
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Post by Trevrizent on May 31, 2015 20:33:30 GMT
“Can you hear them singing out there?” The Walrus looked at the Troglodyte and shook his head. “No. We’re rather high up to hear much of anything. Is it a song I know?” The Troglodyte shrugged, putting a cigarette between his lips while he fished his pockets for a lighter. “Not sure. It’s Canterbury Blues.” “Oh, I know that one,” the Walrus replied, crossing the room to the window where the Troglodyte sat. He held out a badly abused, purple plastic lighter, the kind found for fifty cents in a Seven-Eleven. “Doesn’t it go like this?” He hummed a few high notes. “Yah, that one.” The Troglodyte turned the window crank some so that the air and the singing could filter better inside the cramped room. He lit his cigarette and puffed a few clouds. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about anyway,” the Walrus said. “Another hippie revival? You’d think Woodstock never happened.” He left the window and went to the fireplace. The painting over the mantle was crooked, and it was driving him insane. He reached up on his tiptoes and straightened it. “It’s better than that twerking and electronic crap,” the Troglodyte replied. Suddenly, he blurted out, “Eight o’ clock!” “What? Already?” The Walrus checked his watch. “By Jove, you’re right! We had better hurry! We’ll be late for tea!” The Troglodyte puffed once more on his cigarette and tossed it out the window. Straightening his suit and rubbing his nose, he turned to the Walrus. “How do I look?” The Walrus let go of the painting now that it was straight and turned to his friend. “Eh, pretty good. Sure the gray is a good one? I always thought your black suit was nicer.” “It’s at the cleaners, remember?” “Oh yah… because of the raspberry jam… Well, don’t eat such sloppy stuff when you’re hungover next time. Now!” The Walrus checked his watch again. “Now we’d better hurry.” The Troglodyte rushed to the door and opened it. The Walrus quickly followed him out. They headed down the hallway for Room 2B. It was on the top floor and had great views. At least that’s what the desk lady said. Either way, it was a bit of a walk up. The elevator didn’t work. The Walrus was breathing heavy by the time they got to the top floor. He put his hands on his knees and just stood there, bent over and heaving for air. “You alright, man?” asked the Troglodyte asked with a raised eyebrow. “Perfect,” huffed the Walrus. “It’s all those cheeseburgers, isn’t it?” the Troglodyte said, condescendingly. “Yah know, you don’t get fat, but that stuff will still clog your arteries.” “What are you, my mother?” the Walrus grumbled, straightening up. He approached the door of 2B, standing side by side with the Troglodyte. “Let’s just get this over with.” The Troglodyte checked his watch. “Eight o’ five. Tea should be ready then, I reckon.” The Walrus raised a fist and rapped on the door several times. The Troglodyte pushed his hand down. “No, no. That’s enough.” “What? Five times?” “Three is polite. Five is impatient.” “And one is never enough?” “Naturally. Three is a perfect number.” “What of four?” “That’s just weird. It’s like you want to be impatiently polite.” “Maybe I should try again…” “No wait, footsteps!” Sure enough, there was a lot of thumping and rattling as chains were undone and bolts unbolted. Then the door swung inward. Answering the door was a balding man in a red polo and slim khakis. He looked from one to the other, eyes wide. “Can I help you?” “Yes of course,” the Walrus said. “May we come in?” The man stepped back, letting the two of them enter. “You’re the Albatross right?” the Troglodyte asked. The Albatross nodded. “Good. That’s out of the way.” “Is there something you want?” the Albatross asked. The Walrus looked around the apartment. It was cramped, like their room before. A futon sat in a corner, a fold-up card table was in the middle of the room with two plastic picnic chairs in front of it. The table was covered in old cans and junk food packaging. The Walrus peeked into the little kitchenette area. “Is tea on?” “I just finished making a pot,” the Albatross replied. The Troglodyte plopped down in a chair. “Good, good. I can sit here, right?” “Of course,” the Albatross said. “Um, are you guys Jehovah’s Witnesses or something?” “No, no,” the Walrus said with a laugh. “Jehovah’s Witnesses wouldn’t know your name, would they?” “Maybe not…” the Albatross replied, sitting awkwardly in a plastic chair. “Have a cup of tea, Troglodyte,” the Walrus said, having procured two mugs with smiley faces on them and filled them with liquid. “Ah, thank you,” the Troglodyte said, taking a mug. He sipped at it carefully. The Walrus went to the kitchenette cupboards and dug around. “You have sugar, right Albatross?” The Albatross just nodded, then added in a low, “Yes…” “Oh here it is!” The Walrus pulled out a bag of sugar and poured nearly a whole cup of sugar into the mug. He stirred the tea with a finger and then licked the tea and sugar off his finger. “Perfect!” “What tea is this?” the Troglodyte asked. “Earl Gray.” The Albatross said. The Walrus and the Troglodyte quickly downed their mugs. “Ah, well that was quite something,” the Walrus said. The Troglodyte nodded in agreement. “Thanks for your tea, Albatross,” the Walrus said. “But now, down to business.” He shot the Albatross in the head. It was rather messy. They pushed the body out the window and it splattered on the ground below, killing two of the singing hippies in the process and showering several more in blood and guts. A note in the pants pocket of the Albatross read, “He said the Chamomile was Earl Gray.”
~~~~~~~~~ For Star: It's just an average day.
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dawny
New Member
Posts: 16
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Post by dawny on Aug 4, 2016 1:55:50 GMT
Prompt for Nii: Uriel finally gets to wear that outfit he's been waiting FOREVER to use. You chose what universe he's from.
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Post by Trevrizent on Aug 4, 2016 2:33:37 GMT
Uriel patted down his hair, trying to get it to behave more and be less fluffy. No way in hell he was stepping out of his room looking like he just rolled out of bed. Which he had. Better now, he narrowed his eyes at the reflection he saw in the mirror. Something had changed deeply in him. Something too far for him to see. Something too low for him to reach. He pressed his hand against the surface of the mirror. The metal of the shackles clunked lightly against the reflective surface. His fingers curled inward, open hand becoming closed fist. Gestures changed. So did meaning. “I’ve become more closed off… somehow.” But he was still that same person on the inside. The shackles were proof of that. He abandoned the mirror and crossed to the other side of the room where he clothes lay out on the edge of the bed. A deep inhale, a slow exhale. He reached out and ran the fabric through his fingers. It was soft and delicate to the touch. Light as air, but the fabric was of a weave stronger than cloth, made of strong fibers programmed to withstand harsh conditions, from the heat of battle to the cold of space. He pulled the robe over his body, tying the belt tightly around his waist. The second robe then. The overcoat. The bigger belt around them all. His saber went to its holster. He pulled the gloves up to his elbows. Tugged the hood down to shadow his face. He had been waiting for this. For months. Those endless, horrible, nightmarish months. Now it was here. It had arrived. He felt his heart stir strangely in his chest. What was that supposed to be? He left the small cabin. It was the last time he would see that room. Walking down the hall, his boots thudded against the metal grate of the floor, echoing in the empty corridor. Nothing whispered or breathed save the hum of machinery under the surfaces where nothing slept to keep them all afloat. The doors whispered open and Uriel saw the center aisle flanked by two rows of guards. At its termination stood one he knew so well. The one he called master. The one who too had waited this day for so long. Like a lamb to slaughter, he marched down the rows of guards. New clothes, new experiences, new journey. An old past being left behind. A new future awaiting him at the end of this march. Uriel came to the end and kneeled down, head bowed low. His master merely smiled, then lifted Uriel’s hood up and away, letting it fall against the apprentice’s shoulders. “You have done well to come so far, my apprentice. But this moment, you will now shed that title and take on a new one.” The master turned away for a moment, accepting from a guard’s outstretched hands a large basin. Something sloshed lazily against its sides as the master turned back. He held the basin high in the air, as if receiving some dark blessing from above. And then he tilted it forward, letting the contents wash over Uriel in a waterfall of dark crimson. It soaked into his clothes, creeping warmly against his skin. It was lost in the black of the fabric just as the world became lost in the darkness within himself. “In the blood of your foes, we baptize you now.” Uriel tilted his head back, letting the blood wash down his face, feeling it pour down his collar and travel down his chest. He opened his mouth and drank deeply, warm iron slithering down his nose and mouth, whispering against his tongue, painting his sight in that gushing color of life and death at once. “Be reborn. Rise, Darth Satorseth.” And he rose. And was reborn. --- For Dawny: This song. Whatever you feel. www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRiQ_92li1I
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dawny
New Member
Posts: 16
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Post by dawny on Aug 4, 2016 7:33:32 GMT
“Have the contract drawn up by this Saturday,” Val said brusquely. He was done with this meeting, but the tradesman didn’t seem to think it was. He rose when Val did and began following him out the door. “This Saturday? That only gives us two days to complete it.” “Yes.” Val spoke without looking back at the older man. “Lord Krutikov-” The tradesman was cut off by another voice saying Val’s name. “Master Valaerien, your grandfather sent for you. He would like you to review this and meet him in his office.” A bored looking young woman standing outside the meeting room held a folder out towards Val. He looked towards her, but a movement on the ground behind her caught his attention. He leaned forward a few inches to get a clearer view and caught sight of a grey cat sliding around the corner. “Master Valaerien?” He flicked his gaze back to the young woman beside him and took the folder from her hands. “Of course. I’ll see him as soon as possible. A matter has come up that I must deal with first. I’ll attend to this as soon as I’ve finished.” “Your grandfather wants you immediately,” the woman said dully. Val stepped passed her. “Of course. As I said, something’s come up. I’ll deal with it as quickly as possible. Please tell my grandfather that I will be there momentarily.” “Of course, Master Valaerien,” she said. As soon as she turned away, Val quickly headed for the corner he’d seen the cat going around. “Lord Krutikov!” he’d forgotten the tradesman. “I thought I made the terms of the contract quite clear. It should be no issue to have it ready by this Saturday. If you have it done, I will sign it. If not, we will find someone else to do business with.” He almost let his irritation reach his voice. “Um, yes. Yes Lord Krutikov.” Val stared until the tradesman got the idea and took his leave as well. As soon as he was out of sight, Val turned back towards the corner. He ran into the next corridor on light toes. The cat, of course, was nowhere to be seen. Val took a moment to survey the hallway, decided its most likely path was through the door that lead to the courtyard. It stood open just wide enough for a cat to have slipped through. Soft steps brought him out the door, which he closed completely behind him. The courtyard was surrounded on two sides by high wall. The third, across from him was another part of the building, but that door was shut completely. The cat couldn’t have escaped that way, and he doubted that it had gone through the archway in the wall, the only other entrance. Beyond the archway was an open plaza with little cover for the cat. Most likely it had stayed in the courtyard. This was the visitors’ side of the complex, the courtyard was landscaped artfully. A fountain stood to one side, a tree in the corner, and a line of bushes along the wall opposite the archway. The bushes were low to the ground with just enough space between them for Val to see into tunnel they created against the wall if he leaned down. He knelt on the grass, bending his head to look down. He didn’t see anything, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight. Shining the light between the bushes, he caught a pale blue shine of the cat’s eyes. He shuffled forward towards the cat, still holding his phone in one hand. As he got close, the cat moved away from him along the wall. When he’d backed it into the corner, he stood and moved away from the wall, approaching the corner at a 45 degree angle. The cat let him get just over three feet away before it bolted, but he was ready. He jumped forward, letting go of the folder tucked under his arm and grabbed the cat with both hands around its middle. It struggled unhappily, but Val plopped down on the ground, hugging it tightly in his lap with one arm. He ran his other hand over its coat. The cat was thin, but it appeared as if it had been cared for at some point. Its fur was thick and he suspected it would be very soft once well-cleaned. “Good girl,” he crooned, scratching the cat under her chin. “Very good girl. You are welcome here. I will call you Tchai.” The cat didn’t appear impressed by her new name. She continued to push against Val until he let her go. She slunk back beneath the bushes as he stood up and retrieved his folder. He began to flip through its contents as he made his way back inside, but he was more preoccupied with coming up with an excuse for his grandfather, should he ask for one. ‘Chasing cats’ probably wouldn’t count for very much.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For Nii: Pokemon Go comes to a fantasy world (book, movie, tv show, a world of your own creation, etc)
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