Ghosts are Newbs

If I can blame anything for my current predicament, it would be World of Warcraft.

If I hadn't started playing that game those many years ago, I wouldn't have known about the 'uber' equipment. If I hadn't known about the uber equipment, I wouldn't have decided to run raids every Friday with my guild. And if I hadn't decided to run raids every Friday with my guild, I wouldn't have realized I was late to be getting home to raid thus I decided it was a smart idea to cut through the cemetery.

I pull my jacket tightly around my body as I try to tell myself that all that thought didn't matter - that I was fine. Yet no matter how much I hold my jacket close, I can still that chill run over my spine. It's telling me that this was a mistake. That I shouldn't have traveled this path.

I weave around headstones and bushes, pushing my way through the morbid scene. My footsteps find a way to echo through the night - something they've never done before. I keep up my pace, trying to ignore that feeling that someone was watching me.

Suddenly, the silence was broken.

"Hey! Mort! Look!"

I turn on my heels as fast as the Flash himself only to find myself staring at a set of cliche ghosts. And that's probably the best I can do to really describe them. Sheets, eye holes, and floating. That's all. They hover there for a few seconds, whispering to each other as I try not to piss myself.

"Oh, man. He has a really nice liver!" one finally spoke loud for me to hear. The other one loomed in closer, those hollow eyes voids.

"Oh, man! I needed a liver! Need before greed, dude?" the other spoke before shoving his hand into my side.

There was no blood, no wound, but there was plenty of pain. It felt like claws were digging into my liver, squeezing and twisting. I feel something snap inside and a burning sensation begin to dribble behind my skin. I fall to the ground, my mouth twisted in pain as I give out a hollow scream.

"Dude, I need the liver to make my epic body!"

"No way, dude! This is the last piece before I get enough to get my epic body suit!"

"Come on! I let you have the last drop!"

I'm crawling away now, my vision blurring and my body shaking. Something was leaking inside me and I could feel it killing me slowly. But I crawled with all my might, trying to get to the nearby gate.

"Come on, man! Look at the stats on this thing, it's not even that good-"

"I'm not a min-maxer, dude!"

I was nearing the iron-clad gate. My hand reached out for it, my finger tips already numb. I could feel the gate open slowly as I pushed it open, my mind knowing that if I were to leave here, I'd be safe again. I pulled my body towards my freedom -

Only to suddenly find another ghost right in front of me.

"Lawl, newbs!" It spoke before it dove right into me. I could feel its icy grip travel throughout my entire body, pulling and twisting organs free from their position. The pain is beyond words. I cough up blood, my body starting to shut down.

The last thing I hear before everything goes black is "Kill stealer!"

Reddit: Horror Challenge. 300 words

When Henry heard the whispers from the closet, he didn’t close his eyes as usual. Instead, he sat up, kicking the blankets off his bed as he reached for his bat. For too many nights, the darkness had kept him awake at night. For too many nights, it whispered for him to be a bad boy and to make Mommy cry. And so, just as he was going to bed tonight, he had set up his weaponry.

Henry’s grip on the bat tightened as he approached the door, his footsteps causing the floor to squeak. From the closet, more whispers. Louder, beckoning him. He felt drawn to the closet, addicted to it. His unavoidable adventure started when he stepped out of bed and that closet was his Mines of Moria.

He stopped in front of the door. The whispers were almost deafening. They made his head hurt, his eyes hurt. His body shivered. His arms ached. It felt like a rope was pulling his arm forward. He took hold of the door knob and twisted it slowly.

Time froze.

Time continued.

“Henry?”

And Henry attacked, swinging the bat down over and over again until it splintered.

***

When the cops found Henry standing over his mother’s body with the murder weapon in hand, they knew they were going to have to prepare for the media circus that would follow.

Reddit Sci-Fi Challenge : 300 words

I'm awoken by blaring alarms. In my sleep-deprived mind, I think it's the usual wake up call and I slap at my nightstand's chronometer. By the time I slam my fist down on the snooze button for the fifth time, my mind catches up with my body and I start putting two and two together.

First, the alarm is louder - the ships alarms. And secondly, I can hear running outside my door. People are panicking, which doesn’t make sense. People in my ship don’t panic. They are scientists and soldiers, the best of the best of the best. Myself? I am a janitor. I am allowed to panic and scream at spiders and shadows.

I hear someone slamming their hands against my door as I climb out of bed. They beg for me to open the door. The voice sounds familiar but I can’t place it. I am unfamiliar to the desperation in it.

If I were a soldier, one of the best of the best of the best, I would’ve raced to the door and fought off anything that was harming the voice. If I were a scientist, one of the best of the best of the best, I would’ve thought of a way to help. But like I said, I am just a janitor. I just stand by my bed wearing only my underwear, frozen, as the person's voice grows in desperation until it is suddenly silenced by a blow that domes my door inward.

I don’t know how long I stand in silence as the sound of carnage consumes the outside world.
The lights flicker overhead. And I know, as a janitor, even if I’m not the best of the best, that my lights shouldn’t be flickering – hell, no lights should be flickering. Then the room goes black.

When the emergency lighting doesn’t come back on, I know I’m fucked.

How to Fix Your Life

He wears suits that probably cost more than my entire college fund. And with those eye glasses of his and his hairstyle, I know he probably outspent the meager savings I have in the bank. I sit in the chair in front of him with an air about him that just tells me to go fuck myself -- yet the smile on his lips is warm, welcoming. It is the smile that had suckered me into this conversation to begin with.

"So, let me get this straight," I say as I nervously fidget with the contract he had handed me. They said the devil was in the details and it certainly shows. He had promised we'd put this agreement in writing but I didn't know he'd be making a novel out of it. "I win a game of my choosing, and I get my wish."

He snaps his fingers and points right at me. "That's the tits of it."

I'm not sure if that was douchey of him or if I had just not caught up to the times so I just nod my head and look back down at the contract. "But if I lose, you get my soul..."

I let that part drag for a second before I glance back up at him. That same smile never leaves his lips, yet those eyebrows of his did pop skyward. "Buddy Bear, that's why you get to chose the game. Hell, I'm sitting here hoping you chose golf as the game - my handicap deserves special parking."

He laughs. Heck, I even snort but it’s more for show as I try to figure out how this sort of contract worked out for Johnny in Georgia. Unlike him, I wasn't the best fiddler there had ever been. Hell, unlike him, I wasn't the best anything there had ever been.

I glance down at the contract again, scanning the first line over again. Truth be told, it was the only one I had been reading, my mind just unwilling to believe this was happening. A thousand questions dance in my mind along with a thousand fantasies. I could get a life time supply of money - I wouldn't spend it all like some moron either. Nice home, nice life, nothing too ridiculous. Or I could wish to be famous. Or attractive. Or a genius. Hell, I could ask for super powers and be the next Spider-Man. Spidey get plenty of tail, right?

He snaps his fingers in my face which pulls me back to reality. He leans forward, the glasses on his nose sliding down enough so his eyes peek over the rims and at me. He offers me yet another grin before tapping at his watch. "Buddy Bear. It's about to get Ke$ha up in here -- Tick Tok. You in? You out?"

I stare at him, the world around me growing dull and silent. Time is stretching out and I feel like I'm stuck in an eternity within the count of a second. My stomach hurts, sweat forms on my brow, and I realize two things. First -- yes, he is douchey. Secondly, though... secondly, I was a complete failure at life.

I lower the contract to the table and just stare at the devil. Maybe it’s my imagination but there must be something in how I look because he frowns. I slide the contract towards him before scooting back in my chair. "My life is that bad, huh?"

He cants his head to the side, not following.

I scoot my chair in and just take a step away from the man. "I'm too much of a coward to act. I'm too much of a coward to write. I'm afraid of failure and people and hell -- I hate myself for hating myself." I toss back my head laughing.

"Hey, Chief, that's why I'm here to give you this -"

It's my turn to snap and point. I only hope I don't seem so douchey doing it. "Everything wrong in my life is my fault. And instead of fixing it by hard work, I almost signed your contract. How fucked up is that?" I pause, blink, and then whisper to myself. "How fucked up indeed."

I shake my head as the man rises from his seat, that smile of his returning. He tries to begin his act again, explaining about how he's bored and wants to help and how all my troubles were just bad luck. But I just stop him with another douchey snap.

"Take your golden fiddle, shove it up your ass, and go," I smirk as I collect my coat from the wall hook and call over my shoulder with a smirk “Oh, by the way... thanks.”

"For what?"

"I must have potential if you're offering me this contract. I don't know what the fuck I'm capable of doing but I know you guys don't come around to just anyone." I blow him a kiss as I open the office door and head on out.

He calls my name and I turn one last time towards the devil. He no longer looks happy and cocky and douchey. Truth be told, I swear I see an ever-so-slight wisp of smoke coming off of him. He meets my gaze over the rim of his glasses and says, "Just because you didn't sign, that doesn't mean we won't be seeing each other."

"I'll take that bet," I say as I turn around before shouting over my shoulder. "You're going to regret - I'm the best there's ever been."

And then I give him the finger.

Gods and Mountain Dew

The city burned, fire lighting up the sky. 

I watched as the ants on my screen ran in terror away from the flames while the cars on the street just continued to drive their predetermined path. Much like fate, they were stuck on a path that they couldn't avoid. And when I dropped the Space Alien down on top of there roads, they vanished from sight.

Digital death, I have come to serve it.

Oh, the people of JackOff Heights had been good to me. But truly, I had been good to them first. When I first started this game of Sim City, it was but a barren place of land. Too rocky. No water. No green. And yet, I had a vision. Schools were added, housing followed. Power plants and parks. 

It became a place of peace.

Oh, sure the people had their issues in the beginning. They didn't understand why I had so many roads or why I thought -I- was worthy of their taxation. They even dared to drop my mayor rating when I allowed for that prison to be built miles away in the hillside. Yet, when the subsidies and tax breaks came from such an endeavor, who was the one they cheered?

I had parades cast in my name as the city grew. I put in a stadium and we got a sports team. Oh, and the barren wasteland was transformed into a garden oasis. Once again, the people complained. My polling numbers diminished. They threatened with protest over my use of government funding to put in grass and lakes.

And yet... I became their god when we had an influx of people enter JackOff Heights. They worshiped me like the golden cow that I was. More parades followed. More additions gained. More people declaring me to be the mayor of the year -- no... the century. 

It got to the point where my crazy side projects were never criticized. They trusted me, believed in me. They put up with my eccentric ideas such as switching from American coal to solar power. They had seen me rise to the occasion so many times that they knew that I wouldn't let them down.

The fools.

You see, destruction of a home is a mere slap on the wrist. People can find new homes and new jobs. They can find new parks to take their kids too and new sports team to cheer for. Losing a town that one hates is not a loss, its an opportunity. 

I didn't want to give an opportunity.I wanted them to suffer a fate worse than that. 

I wanted them to lose a God. 

As I chugged from my Mountain Dew, I watched with splender as my urban renewal initiative caught ablaze. The flames followed the grass to the houses to the buildings to the solar panels that blew. I made sure to decimate the police station with meteors when they tried to respond to the alien rampaging through their streets. I laughed as my people begged for help only to find that their God was now silent to their pain.

I am Jehova. 

Fuck you, JackOff Heights. At least we don't have too many roads now, bitches. 

No Wire

It was when I was asking myself if I should cut the red wire or the blue wire when I realized that I didn't want to cut either.

I knelt in front of the doomsday device, wire clippers in hand, when the third option just donned on me. My hands froze as the time continued to count down --

2:43

2:42

2:41

- and I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe the third was for the best.

I was given the mantle of Patriot Prime when I was a teenager. Give, of course, being the word the government used. For me, it was never given. It was branded onto me like a cow. Unlike the other cattle, I had survived the injections and the tests.

I winced at the memory. Too many memories that were waved away by generals and higher ups in the name a patriotism. I kept my crouch, eyeing the device in front of me as I just tried to focus again. I tried to think back to my training, back to my forced life, on how to diffuse this situation.

2:20

2:19

... And yet, I couldn't help but think about the doomsday device's reaction to the Earth's atmosphere. It would darken the skies and fill everyone's lungs full of ash with each desperate breath. Everyone would die. Everyone would fall. The generals. The politicians --

The children. The innocent.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the thoughts from my head. People needed me. I was a hero. And yet, here I was. The wire cutters shook in my hands, that shiver travelling up my arm before I dropped the tool to the ground. 

Nerves of Steel my ass.

The clock doesn't falter. It doesn't delay. It just continues with its duty. It's obligation. It doesn't question whats it purpose or why it was chosen. It doesn't remember the friends it lost in the name of science. It doesn't hesitate between numbers over the thought of being a slave to a duty.

1:45

1:44

I clenched my fist and spun around, pacing around the area as I tried to calm my nerves. I hear my CO screaming orders into my ear piece but I quickly pluck the damn thing off and toss it over my shoulder. 

It would be so easy. To end it all. To end all the pain and misery that this world has brought me.I could snuff it out in one foul swoop and avoid the life-time duty that my powers bestow on me. I could finally close my eyes and fall asleep, never to be woken up by alarm bells telling me that someone is doing something with a giant robot or mantis or whatever the hell the villains think of this week.

So I knelt down in front of the device and stare down at the bundle of wires.

20

19

18

So I'm back to my original question. Red wire? Blue wire?

15

14

Or do I finally just it all go away with a flash.

10

9

8

I pick up the wire cutters, squeezing them in my hand as I stare down at the wires.

6

5

I need to decide.

3

2

I decide.

1

EDIT: This needs to be present tense instead of past tense. 

[Urban Fantasy] Fist Full of Clay [Scene 6]

You can imagine the pandemonium that took place after everyone had shaken off the effects of the Veil. Parents moved from tent to tent, tipping over tables in a frantic search for their children. Others were trying to make heads and tails of the mess that had occurred during their three minute ‘nap’. Some were in the process of evaluating the pipes (Gas leak, remember?), some were just sitting, their minds still stuck, a hint of lingering doubt of what just occurred.

Surprisingly, the longer it takes to shake off the Veil’s effect, the more it says about the person. Show’s they’re stubborn, strong willed. Their mind isn’t willing to just accept the easiest answer to what happened. The more you know, huh?

I didn’t have long to watch this go on. I was sort of in the process of dying. Distractions, distractions.

Max had done his best to help me to our hovel in the corner. My body was in worse shape than I had expected, it wanting to shut down a few minutes after the attack.

Max dumped me on the moldy mattress where all the magic happens (Ladies… hint, hint) and went to work shredding the remains of my shirt off my back. The low whistle he gave wasn’t a sign he appreciated my good looks- The damage must have been bad.

I felt my eyes close as my body grew heavy, my lids feeling as if they were… well… made of hardened clay. My tongue felt clammy in my mouth. All of me just wanted to find a nice spot of dirt to lay down and fall apart into. It seemed like a nice thought at the time.

I vaguely recall hearing Max peeling back the floorboards. He let out a grunt as he hauled something up to the surface. I heard the pop of the lid, the rustle of saran-wrap, smelt the whiff of freshness, and felt my body shiver with anticipation.

Bliss. As soon as the clay touched my skin, I felt bliss. Like a part of me had finally been found, claimed, and indoctrinated. Sort of like finding a missing son or daughter after years of searching. Clay had that effect on me- I was a junkie for it.

Plaster could close a hole in me and allow my body to heal on its own with relative ease. Sort of like stitches or a cast for fleshies. However, much like fleshies, sometimes those thins aren’t enough. Sometimes, you need a blood transfusion and a team of doctors.

I had clay and Max to fill in said roles.

I felt the essence of the clay flow through my body like morphine travelling through a vein. It tickled and hurt at the same time. It moved throughout my body. Not the clay, mind you, but the essence of it.

I don’t want to say I let out of moan of ecstacy because that might give someone an idea to turn this into some sort of erotic fanfic involving me, Max, and a bucket of clay while ‘Unchained Melody’ plays in the background, but know the feeling I felt was akin to the best bite of steak you’ve ever had combined with the most sensual massage you’ve ever experienced.

It was a thing that made you happy to be alive.

My mind must have lost itself as the essence healed my body because it took Max slapping me on the back of the head again to get my eyes to snap open. I turned my gaze upwards, staring at him.

“Get up, Stone Hedge,” was all he said before he exited the tent. “People are shittin’ themselves outside.”

I tossed what remained of my torn shirt and replaced it with a t-shirt that told folks I was with stupid. And then I followed dump-truck Yoda outside.

Grid Eight was still in a panic, but it was that silent sort of panic that makes you realize things were bad. They had grouped together near the three old men in their rocking chairs. The three men were as silent as ever, swaying back and forth as if all this ruckus was beneath their notice. Two Gridites (Like what I did there?) stood in front of them, arguing. A man and a woman.

“Damn’it, Steve, I don’t care. I’m going out to search-“ A woman I vaguely recall being called Mary threatened. She was a stout woman, her stomach rivaling Max’s.

“Gloria,” Steve began-

Right- Gloria, I said that.

“We are going to look for the kids. But we should calm down, get our bearings, and come up with a plan,” Steve said as he looked towards the crowd for support. “Most likely, the kids saw us effected by gas and took off to the tunnels to find help-“

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?! You know what sort of dangers lurk in their!” Gloria shot back before just shaking her head. She moved away from Steve, heading towards the exit. “And the lot of us are just standing here doin’ nothing! I’m not going to just wait around until we hear one of them have been hit by a train.”

A kid screamed.

At first, I thought it might have been one of the children taken, screaming as they ran from the shadows where the Snake-Heads vanished. Not the case. I turned my head (Along with everyone else) and found a kid sporting a bloody nose. It was the kid I made the Medusa drop. On his face…

Butter fingers….

The kids parents were holding him close as he scream, his eyes darting around with an awareness that many of these people didn’t have- The kid remembered.

The thing about the Veil is that it relies on an understanding of reality. Sure, a grown up knows that fairies and goblins don’t exist, but a kid doesn’t. It takes years for their ‘switch’ to trigger, usually somewhere along puberty. This allowed for kids to catch glimpses through the Veil, knowing that true dangers do go bump in the night.

“They took them! The snake people!” the kid cried as he held onto his mother. Naturally, kidnapping is a hell of a way to gain a crowds attention. No sooner did he speak those words the crowd was surrounding him, shouting questions.

“Shut up! Shut up of of you!” bellowed Steve as he pushed his wirery frame through the group. It took some energy, but the crowd finally shushed enough for him to concentrate on the kid. He kneeled down, offered the kid a smile that would send Dentists crying, and tried his best ‘buddy-buddy’ tone. “Hey, Little Buddy, what do you mean people took them?"

The kid sniffed, buried his head into his mom’s arm, and decided that he didn’t like being the center of attention. Steve looked around nervously before reaching out to take hold of the kid’s arm.

“Kid- Come on, give us a break here-“

The kid let out a startled cry which brought his father to Steve’s face.

“Get you hands off my son, you bastard!” He growled. He had a good growl- Solid. If I had bowels, something would have shifted.

Steve wasn’t one to back down, though. Kudos to him. He stepped forward, raising a finger to the man’s face. “Listen here, Kyle. Our kids are missing and I don’t want to hear any bullshit-“

"My son don’t need an asshole grabbing his arms after-“

          

And the argument continued, building. Soon enough, Steve and Kyle were pushing each others, the other occupants of Grid Eight trying to split them up. And just to show me I have the greatest luck in the world, the few second that wasn’t filled with noise was when the kid decided to look at me and ask “Why didn’t you save them too?”

Everyone silenced at this and turned towards me and Max- Actually when I turned my head towards Max, I saw that he had taken a few steps to the side. Right. On my own.

“Listen,” I began as I held up my hands, trying to play the role of good-natured bystander. “ I was out of it like everyone else.”

“Liar!” the kid hollered. It was almost comical how everyone’s head turned in unison to focus on the kid and then back to me. Desperation from the parents of the missing children grew to anger and a few of them took steps towards me.

“Whoa- Hey, guys, settle down. I don’t know the kid’s problem. I was-“

“Where you and Max disappear too after the lights came back on, huh?” Gloria said as she led the pack towards me. Her sausage like fingers coiled into hams of destruction. “I saw you both stumbling into the tent! I paid it no mind until now- What was goin’ on?”

Max seemed to get that his ass was now in the fire and stepped closer to me. Either to defend myself or get behind the ‘muscle’ if this turned badly. He puffed out his chest, trying to match Gloria’s girth like some territorial blowfish. “Hold on there, Gloria! What me and Emmet do in our tent is our own business!”

Well, that sounded awkward.

Max continued.

“The reason we were running into the tent was because Emmet here was pretty banged up! Woke up and found him swaying drunk!”

              

The eyes returned to me and I offered up the traditional defense of a simple shrug.

            

 “Didn’t seem right in the head,” Max explained as he slapped the back of my scalp. “Like he was drugged. Like we all were drugged. Maybe Emmet didn’t go out like the rest of us? Maybe he can’t remember what he done.”

“He fought the Snake-Men!” The kid exclaimed again. I gave the kid a look that adult could read as “Shut the hell uP” but apparently, the kids reading level wasn’t high enough yet.

              

“Damn straight, he did! Apparently, who ever took the kids couldn’t get them all. I’d wager Emmet was the reason,” Max said before slapping, this time, on the back. I stood still, look around, trying to read everyone’s expression. Slowly but surely, they all faded from anger and returned to just plain worried.

“Listen- I don’t remember. I woke up with bruised knuckles and a bruise on my back.” I said, taking my cue.

Steve was the first one to bite. A natural leader. “Guys- Emmet’s been good to us in the past. Always sharin’ his good. Come on! We can’t be turning on folks. We gotta think. If the kids were really taken, we have-“

“We need to go to the police,” Someone said.

“We can’t go to the police- When have they ever helped anyone?”

And so the argument began again. I slinked back a few steps with Max.

“Police don’t come down to Grid Eight,” Max mumbled.

   
I nodded.

               

“Even if they did, I doubt they’d be equipped to handle the sort of thing that hires Medusas.” I said as I watched the panic spread though the families and friends that I’ve grown to know down here. If I had a heart instead of programming, I’d have felt something, I’m sure.

And yet the only thing I felt was an intense urge to find those kids. To keep them safe. To bring them back. Like a computer opening up a file when an icon was clicked on a desktop.

Programmed morality. And I was destined to follow it.