laseroy89

[laseroy89]

Fighting Me

[WP] You were always taught to never take your helmet off during war. One day in the middle of a battle you end up in a fist fight to the death. Something extremely rare these days. As you pull off the helmet to gouge their eyes you pull back in shock. The person looks exactly like you.

“Ron, take the stairs on the right side, take out the top floor. Take Ray and Pirate with you. Ed and Neem, you’re coming with me through the front, clear the ground floor. Section 2 will be taking the buildings behind this block, so once this building is clear, gather at this landing and await for further instructions from HQ - DO NOT LEAVE THE BLOCK. Any questions?”

“No Sir!”

Sam folded his map and crammed it back into his utility pouch. He made a “go” motion with his hand. “Alright, move out.”

“Yes Sir.” Everyone nodded, and dispersed. Sergeant Ron motioned for Pirate and I to follow, and the three of us treaded carefully through the tall grass, towards the grassy mound that would provide good cover about five metres away from the targeted staircase. We took our positions in the shallow depressions behind the mound, and awaited the signal.

“Ok go go go.” Sergeant whispered through my earpiece. We moved quickly to the staircase, our rifles raised in high alert position, ready to engage. I pointed my rifle around, looking for any potential threats, and surveyed the area at the same time.

It was as described in the photos provided to us. The building was in a sorry state - paint was peeling off the walls, and there was mould and moss all over the exterior. Most of the windows were just openings in the side of the building with no glass panes, but there were a few on the upper floor that were completely black and opaque, such that it was impossible to see whatever shady stuff people were doing inside. The rest of the complex wasn’t much better off - most of the fence had collapsed, allowing our company to infiltrate almost effortlessly, and the other buildings seemed to be in the same state as our target building.

Once I reached the side of the building, I patted Pirate’s back. He patted Sergeant, and together, we crept up the stairs. I could see Sergeant’s rifle trembling - come on man. The enemy guards at the guardhouse - more like guard-shed, lol - were easily neutralised. They were definitely not prepared for an attack, how easy could this be? We’ll finish them off in no time and be back in time for a nice long bath and….maybe a visit to the massage parlour? Heheh - yeah that’s right Pirate, you’re reading my thoughts exactly.

We got onto the second floor, our boots making muffled thuds on the concrete.

“Door, door left. Open in.” Sergeant moved to the opposite side and faced us, hand on the handle. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Sergeant turned the handle and pushed the door hard. Pirate and I rushed in, and opened fire.

Left, fire, fire, fire. Up, fire, fire, fire. Forward, forward, crouch behind chair, fire, fire, fire. Get up, forward, lean over counter, fire, fire, fire. “Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Door, door right. Open in. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Forward, right. Forward - LEFT, FIRE, FIRE, FIRE, FIRE! Fire. Forward. Right, fire, fire, fire. “Reload!” High knee. Put safe, eject mag. Empty magazine check. Check clear. Loaded magazine check. Weapon loaded. Cock, put safe - put back on semi. “Ready.”

“Door, door left. Open out. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Forward, left. Forward - LEFT - FUCK FUCK FUCK! Against wall, enemy on rifle. Fight. Jab left, jab left, elbow right, elbow down. Ooof. Kick left shin. Kick left shin. Kick left knee, crack. Kick groin. Headbutt - oooof. Rifle gone. Punch right, down, ooof. Head down, twist right wrist. Jab left, dislocate left shoulder. Jab, neck. Up, sweep his helmet off, position fingers -

His eyes. Brown irises, staring at me - glazed, sightlessly, lifelessly. A normal enemy would be filled with fear, with anger, with pain, his brow furrowed in frustration, in terror - but not his. He stared at me - he stared THROUGH me, as if he was already dead. But no - he fought on, kicking frantically against my hard plate.

But it wasn’t just the eyes. It was the hair too. Buzz cut, but with a widow’s peak, and a little scar just above the right ear - just like me. The pockmarks that acne left all over his face - there was even that little red bump in the right cheek, the cyst that refused to go away no matter how much ointment I spammed in that area. That blunt nose, broken maybe twelve times. That cut on that lip, when my crazy ex smashed me with a glass.

He was me.

He stopped struggling too, but he didn’t stop staring through me. And he opened his mouth, and…..inhaled.

A ear-piercing whine drowned out all the commotion that happened around me. All the gunshots, screams and shouts....they were all replaced by the sound that threatened to rip my head apart, yet I couldn’t bring my hands up to block it out. I was frozen to the spot, my entire body rigid, and out of my control.

Slowly, I felt my skin pull away. Gentle tugging at first, but it got stronger and stronger. I could feel it started to run down my chin, and…

I was slammed against the wall.

“What the hell happened?” Pirate shook me by my shoulders, staring at my face. “You just froze up on that….oh my bejeezus what the hell did he do to you?”

I realised that he wasn’t just staring at my face - his focus was directed at my chin. Gingerly, I lifted my hands to that area, and felt little scraps of skin hanging off. It felt waxy to the touch, but as I pulled my hands away from my face, I saw that the liquid wax that I felt was my blood.

That sucking wasn’t in my imagination. That bugger had tried to suck my skin and flesh off.

I pushed Pirate’s face away.

That soldier - or whatever that thing was - lay still on the ground, its torso torn up by dozens of bullets. But its face was still intact, and…..it wasn’t just my imagination. It was an immaculate duplicate of my face, and Sergeant was still standing over it, constantly switching between looking at my face, and looking at it.

“Sergeant….we need to leave this area. There’s something fishy going on.”

“Negative. We proceed down to the landing as planned, and meet the rest of the team….”

We stared at each other, as we realised what was happening.

There were no gunshots anymore, even though this was supposed to be a battle. Instead, there were intermittent screams, but the main sound that filled the air was this….whining noise. The sickening whine, exactly like that sound when my face was being sucked the hell off.

“Sergeant, I don’t think there’s a rest of the team anymore.”

Pirate grabbed his rifle. Sergeant backed off from the body, and looked out the window.

“We need to get out of here. Right. Now.”

[laseroy89]

Cookies for the Closet

[WP] As a method of handling her fear, your daughter has always left 'snacks' for the monsters in her closet. You never suspected that they were real, or that she had made friends with them... or that they would end up saving you.

“Dad, can I take those to my bedroom?” Gina pointed at the plate of chocolate chip cookies next to my keyboard. “No, it’s not for me, it��s for Sully!! He’s been in there for an entire day, he’s gotta be very, VERY hungry by now!” She protested when she saw my disapproving side-eye.

Oh, it’s for Sully. I nodded. She skipped happily across the room and reached for the plate, which I moved away. “It’s for Sully only, alright. Only Sully gets to eat it.”

“No….sometimes Mike comes. He’ll need to eat too.”

I furrowed my brow. What did she say last time when I asked her what monsters lived in her closet? “Alright, if Mike comes in, he can eat too. But none for you, young lady. You’ve already brushed your teeth, alright? NO EATING AFTER BRUSHING TEETH.”

“Of course dad!! My friends are hungry, I wouldn’t take their food.” Gina tiptoed and gave me a little peck on my cheek. “Goodnight dad.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

She skipped towards her bedroom with the plate of cookies. I wanted to open my mouth, to loudly remind her not to skip with so many damn crumbs on the plate. A single crumb landing on the floor would attract so many damn ants….but I’m tired, and I don’t feel like yelling at the only light in my life right now. Ok, maybe not the only light, but Sally was on a business trip halfway across the world right now. That’s….that’s pretty far away.

I turned back to the screen. Got to finish this report, and….oh yeah, set a reminder to collect the plate from Gina’s closet. I don’t want any damn ants on Gina’s clothes.

    Ah. What time is it?

It’s 6 am.

The report’s not finished. Huh, must have fell asleep halfway. Sorry boss, I’ll finish it in the morning. I need to make breakfast for Gina, wash the clothes…oh man, I miss Sally.

The cookies!! Ya, got to remove that as well. No ants, got that. No ants in Gina’s closet, no ants on Gina’s clothes. Yup, I’ll get the plate right away.

Normally Sally removed the plates. Normally Sally did everything, anyway. I just help out when she orders me to. Come to think of it, I’m a really bad husband. Heh. Sorry, Sally.

I slid the door open silently. Gina was still asleep. I’ll wake her up later, at a more acceptable time. Right now, the top priority is the plate of cookies.

I tiptoed to the closet, and opened the door….oh Gina.

The plate was empty.

You’ve been a bad girl, Gina. Don’t you know how much harm is caused when food is left overnight in your mouth? So much sugar lingering on your teeth, creating the perfect habitat for millions of bacteria - what was that?

I lifted up the plate, and spotted a black, oblong shape at the base. I think the plate was pretty clean when I put the cookies on it. I’m a total clean freak, and my stuff are nothing but spotless. So this spot, is gotta have to go. I’m gonna bring it downstairs, give it a one hell of a scrub, and….

It’s not a spot. It’s a FUCKING COCKROACH!!

It’s on my hand. It’s scurrying, it’s crawling, it’s wiggling its germ-infested butt on my forearm hairs.

GET IT OFF ME!!

It’s gone - it’s gone inside my shirt!! I can feel it, its hairy, slimy legs molesting my pristine skin, ruining my favourite shirt - oh no, it’s on my neck -

Why can’t I frickin’ move? Why is this blue, furry thing holding me up, and - no that’s one huge paw, and it’s coming towards me real fast - oooooooof.

I found myself on the ground, struggling to get my breath. I looked up - to find the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

It was covered in blue fur, with slightly darker spots here and there - couldn’t really see clearly in the low light streaming in from the hallway. It towered above me, a behemoth nearly brushing the ceiling, its black beady eyes staring out from huge busy blue eyebrows. A round, dark nose, not unlike that of a dog, but bigger - much bigger. A mouth filled with sharp fangs, its lips curled in a vicious snarl. And….were those horns?

It brought its paw close to my face….there’s the cockroach. Oh no no no no not that close - no I don’t wanna eat it! Get it away from me!

“Good morning Dad! This is Sully, and he loves the cookies he had last night. Sully, this is my dad - no he hates cockroaches.”

What?

I watched as “Sully” stopped snarling, and his lips curled in the other way that resembled more of a smile instead.

“You know, dad, I’m kinda hungry, and I’m sure Sully is, too. Do you think….do you think we should have breakfast together?”

[laseroy89]

I Hate My Smelly Neighbour - Pt 2

Jake was right. I could hear a lot of yelling next door.

The Rancid Reaper’s metal gate was wide open, but the wooden door was opened by a slit, which only slightly muffled the commotion. Weird though….there wasn’t any light coming out.

Come to think of it, the Rancid Reaper’s flat actually looks pretty creepy. He has a grilled gate that used to be painted white, but roughly 70% of the paint has flaked off, leaving the metal underneath to the mercy of the elements. There’s also a simple wire shoe rack outside that looks like it’s gonna fall apart any moment. It’s filled with many shoes, even though I’m sure the Reaper is the only one living in there.

But the main wooden door behind the grilles is the one that gives me the creeps. The bottom is covered with scratches, some of them about the size of my fingernail, and others as long as my forearm. I’ve noticed these many times while walking past, but it’s only now when I noticed how many there are - there’s got to be hundreds of them, tiny black slits standing out from the pale brown wood.

“Should we go in?” Jake sounded really hesitant, all his earlier enthusiasm faded away.

“It was your idea. And now you want to pussy out?” I looked at him in exasperation, and motioned to him to enter first. He sighed, and pushed the door open.

The corridor lights illuminated the first few metres in. I could see a worn wooden armchair wrapped in cling wrap, a tiled floor covered in stains, and….nothing else. The rest of the room was in absolute darkness - it was akin to looking into a black hole. Any attempt to discern shapes only made my eyes hurt.

Strangely, it didn’t smell as bad as I expected it to be. Sure, I caught a whiff of the stench from time to time, but it wasn’t as strong as that memorable episode, when I was trapped with him in the lift.

From our apartment, all we could hear was indistinct shouting; now that we were inside, we could distinguish the two voices more clearly. One of them was high-pitched and a little nasal; it also halted at irregular intervals, as if the speaker was crying, and trying to speak through tears. The other was a deep, booming voice that reverberated around the apartment, and had a gravelly undertone that was kinda irritating - it’s like growling and rasping at the same time. I assumed the high-pitched one was the woman’s, and the deeper one belonged to the Rancid Reaper.

I don’t understand a single word they’re speaking though. Their speech seemed to consist of a series of guttural noises, shrill whistles and loud grunts - I’ve never heard such a language before.

I shut the door silently, hoping that my eyes would get used to the darkness. But no - I still couldn’t see shit. Thank goodness Jake was wearing a white shirt, so I could still make out his faint outline in front of me. His figure swayed from side to side as he ventured deeper into the house. I followed, albeit a little slowly, as I felt around for obstacles. I didn’t want to make any noise or worse, stub my toe.

But we didn't have to travel far.

I had scarcely taken five steps before a loud crash deafened both of us. Jake jumped backwards in shock - right into me, and we both collapsed onto the ground.

At the same time, I felt a wave of warm air wash over me, as a huge shape flew above us and crashed into the wall behind.

I pushed Jake’s cold sweaty hands from my face, and opened my eyes to find the entire room flooded with light.

We were lying in the middle of what’s supposed to be the living room. The place was in a mess - it’s clear that he hasn’t had any guests over for quite some time. Multiple sheets of newspapers were laid all over the floor, and what little furniture he has were covered with transparent plastic sheets. My gaze rested on the small coffee table beside me - underneath the plastic, I could make out numerous stain marks, and an abundance of small scratch marks - similar to those found on the front door.

I tilted my head upwards to see what had flown past us.

Holy shit - it was the Rancid Reaper himself, only this time, he was missing his characteristic stained wife beater. Instead, he was naked from his waist up, exposing his saggy boobs in their full wrinkly, hairy glory. He lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the wall, bleeding from many cuts all over his body. I think he may have crashed into the wall a little too hard.

Oh, and in the process of falling over, I might have kneed Jake in the head. Hard. He’s not responding, and his right temple seems a little red.

Shit man, what happened?

I turned to face the front, where the light was coming from.

The bottom half of the door clung on the lower hinges of the doorway before us; the upper half of the door was exploded into hundreds of splinters spread all over the floor. Huge chunks of plaster and drywall had fallen off the neighbouring part of the wall, leaving behind huge holes and sending huge cracks outwards - I certainly hope that wasn’t a load bearing wall.

And standing in the room was the petite woman that Jake had budged in here for. Only thing is….she isn’t petite anymore. Or even a woman, for that matter.

Normally, her long flowing hair hung over her face, obscuring her features. Today, she brushed her hair back behind her ears, finally giving me a clear look at her face. Her huge almond-brown eyes bore into me, a steely gaze that never wavered in intensity; her nose was narrow and sharp; her lips were pressed into a thin line, as if she was pissed at our entrance. Her cheekbones were oblique and prominent, and coupled with her pronounced jawline, gave an impression of a stern, headstrong lady. Her skin dazzled in the light, the porcelain white a stark contrast to her distinctive  tight black dress.

Usually when I walked past her, her head came up to my shoulder - but now her hair was brushing the ceiling. As my gaze travelled downwards, I was prepared to see her standing precariously on some furniture, maybe an unstable swivel chair. Instead, her dress gave way to….a torso?

While the skin on her arms and face were smooth and unblemished, the skin below was dotted with pockmarks and discolourations, not unlike humongous acne scars. It gradually got darker and hairier, until it lost all semblance of human skin, and melted into a….spider’s abdomen?

Her monstrous behind was larger than the entirety of her human upper half, and took up almost the entire back half of the room. It was covered in bands of black and light grey fur. As her abdomen throbbed rhythmically, the hair swayed in cadence, filling the air with soft rustling sound.

However, her legs weren’t covered in hair, but were encased in a hard, shiny shell. They were sleek and well-built, each segment roughly the size of my thigh. There were also spikes near the end of each leg - they glinted menacingly in the light, ready to tear any prey to shreds.

She started walking towards us, her spider limbs making ominous clicking sounds with every strike against the smooth marble floor. As she advanced, her upper body swayed from side to side while her stare focused squarely on my face, like a snake sizing up its opponent. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me - I’m scared of the way she’s looking at me.

I swallowed nervously and pushed Jake’s limp body off, frantically trying to get away. I would save him if he was conscious, but since he was out cold, I figured I would do the “get help” part instead.

Just as I untangled myself from his limbs, I heard a familiar sound from the room. A feeble gargle, shaky and reedy, fearful of its surroundings. It was a far cry from the horrors that rocked my bedroom, but I still recognised it - it had the same inflections, the same wetness that evoked feelings of disgust.

Spider-Woman immediately broke off her stare, her attention redirected to the source of the cry. She backed into the room, and bent to the side, where the wall hid her from view.

There were a few more gargles, interspersed by….cooing and kissing? I looked on, bewildered, as her abdomen paced around in that constrained space. It took a while before she pushed a pink stroller into view, then scooped something up from the side and put it inside - Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The thing in her hands was hideous.

It was about the size of a human baby, but….the bottom half looked like a spider, while the top half looked kinda like a human. It was essentially a miniature of Spider-Woman - a nymph, I think that’s what you call it. The spider part was grey, with thick clumps of mucus covering it. Its eight legs weren’t that developed yet: they were lined with myriad little bumps and were perpetually curled up. The entire abdomen looked squishy.

I thought it was hard to top that, but the human-like torso was even more disgusting. The entire trunk was cocooned in a white slimy sac that was dotted with multiple black spots. It quivered with every breath that the freak took, and I think it had arms under that covering, because sometimes that cocoon would expand in weird angles. The head wasn’t covered with the sac, but still boasted a lot of the same slime. The eyes were scrunched shut; the nose was extraordinarily small, and the nostrils were wrinkled, like little repulsive anuses; the mouth was a lipless slit that spanned the entire face, as if a cleaver had been used to chop the head almost the whole way through.

Spider-Woman put the little abomination into the stroller, which it didn’t like very much, as evidenced from its fucked-up little frown. It scrunched its eyes up even more, wrinkled its forehead, and flared its tiny anus-nostrils to take a deep breath.

Then it opened its mouth, revealing….a thin white film, not unlike the one covering its body. It effectively sealed the entire opening/ I was instantly reminded of a scene in the first Matrix movie, where Neo’s mouth was sealed shut by a membrane by the Agents in the interrogation room. It looked just like that - only this time, it was far slimier, and much more gross.

When it exhaled, the mouth-film swelled up, before the tremendous pressure ripped it open in the centre. The drooping edges flopped about violently, producing a familiar wet, disgusting rattling sound that waxed and waned with the infant’s shaky breath.

So that’s where the gargles came from. That was the cause of countless sleepless nights, the accursed source of all my troubles.

I feel like lunging forward and punching the shit out of that vile shitbag, but the intimidating presence of the Spider-Woman suppressed that violent urge. She bent over the handles to give it a little kiss, momentarily placating the annoying little bugger.

Then she started walking towards me.

I shook myself out of my dazed state, and turned around to flee, only to comically hit my head hard on the armchair right behind me. That impact sent me back down to the floor, clutching my throbbing forehead.

Behind me, I could hear the squeaking of the stroller’s wheels, as it protested under the weight of the baby. There was also the same sinister clicking of adult spider legs against the hard floor….which grew less frequent, and started to resemble the familiar clicking of heels.

Confused, I opened one eye, to watch something even more bizarre than anything I’ve seen so far.

As the woman approached me, her body started changing. Her spider-abdomen was growing smaller: its grey and black bands were thinning, and also changing into a lighter shade of….nah, all the spider-parts were turning beige.

The back six of her legs curled up slowly and retracted back into her shrinking backside, while the front two had begun a weird transformation process. The hard, shiny shell gradually turned into soft, fair skin; the spikes flattened out; the claws at the end of the legs turned into her characteristic black heels. Both legs also grew shorter, lowering her outrageous height into a more diminutive stature.

She was morphing back into a human.

She parked the stroller beside me, and I was instantly reminded of why we called the old man the Rancid Reaper. I hadn’t smelt it that much so far - but now, with the pram next to me, the odour hit me in full force. I immediately gagged on the smell, patting my chest in an attempt to keep my stomach contents where they were.

The repulsive infant leaned over the side of the pram, sinking its claws deep into the white ring of plastic at the top - so that’s what created the thousands of little slits I’ve been seeing all over the place. Its eyelids were opened, revealing black beady orbs that stared intensely at me. Its predatory gaze raked me from head to toe, as if it was mentally devouring me.

I didn’t want to look at the heinous hellspawn anymore, but there was this devilish aura around it that demanded my attention. Turning away from it only sent waves of unease rippling through my body.

The plastic creaked in protest as the creature pulled itself up, and leaned over the edge of the stroller. It opened its mouth, and once again, I was subjected to the horrid sight of its open maw. Only this time, it was mere inches from my face, so I could make out details that I didn’t really want to see. Stinking globs of saliva swayed perilously at both sides of the mouth, ready to drop down on my fresh pants. Hundreds of minuscule bubbles were spread out across the translucent membrane, which quivered erratically as it swelled out towards me.

Like before, a large gaping hole ripped open abruptly in the middle. I caught a brief glimpse of rows upon rows of sharp protrusions lining the inside of the mouth, before I raised my hands to shield myself from the globules of slime raining down on my face. Almost immediately, I fell back down on the floor in the foul-smelling pool of gunk, covering my ears from its deafening cry.

As the freak raged above me, my eyes fell on the scene behind the pram. The woman was standing over the Rancid Reaper, whom by now was awake, and panicking. They were conversing, I think - I couldn’t hear them but I could see their lips moving. Rancid Reaper was gesticulating frantically, alternating between looking at the pram and staring fearfully at her.

She raised her hand high above her head, and brought it down on him with a smack so loud, I could hear it above the infernal racket. The old man’s head slumped forward, unconscious - no no no, that’s not unconscious. I don’t think it’s humanely possible to bend one’s neck at that angle.

I think she just broke his neck. With just one slap.

She sauntered back to the stroller, and gently pushed her child back into the comforts of the pram.

“Sorry about my baby, he’s not seen his mama for a long time.” Out of the two voices I heard earlier in the room, hers was the deeper and raspier one. It was coarse and jarring, piercing my ears like the sound of nails on a chalkboard; and also loud and booming, reverberating around the room with an ethereal feel.

She grabbed Jake’s limp leg and hoisted him onto her shoulder effortlessly. “He’s got a crush on me, hasn’t he?” She smirked. “I’ll need a new mate.”

She raised her hand high above her head, ready for another one of those slaps. I closed my eyes.

    Jake’s been missing for a few days. He hasn’t come back to his room ever since. I’m kinda worried - I don’t exactly like him, but I don’t want him to die or anything like that. The police has been looking for him, even sticking up posters with his face, but tough luck so far.

Han was the one who called the police. He had returned home from his night shift to find the entire corridor covered in white goo and stinking to high heaven, and both of our doors ajar. The smell kept him out of the Reaper’s flat, but he could see the mess inside and did what he was supposed to do.

The police interrogated me, of course. I was the last living person to see them both - I was lucky that she just chose to knock me out. They doubted my story - no surprise there. Who the hell would believe that an old man fucked a spider-demon, stole the resulting child, get attacked by the said demon, and end up getting himself killed and causing a neighbour to go missing?

But there was evidence to support my claim - the slime covering the entire crime scene was hard to miss, together with the smell, the scratches….and also a convenient surveillance camera at the lift lobby that caught her escape on tape.

They still find it hard to believe my story though, and I’m still a suspect in the case. I don’t blame them - this thing has been quite surreal, and traumatising. I can’t erase the memory of the loud smack and the twisted neck of the old man, nor can I forget the whole morphing-from-monster-into-human thing. I’m taking a break from school - from going out, actually - to get over this whole ordeal. Han used to be very quiet, but he’s talking a lot more now, trying to be a good friend and getting my mind off things. My newfound peace and quiet is helping a lot, too.

Just one thing though - just two days ago, Han was waiting to cross the junction, when he noticed a convertible with its roof down. The driver was a woman, clad in a tight black dress, with long hair that covered her face. She was leaning over to the passenger side, talking animatedly with her companion, frequently caressing his face. He didn’t really respond - he just sat there looking to the front, with a blank look on his face.

Han thought he looked like Jake. He had the same hair, same clothes, same face - same everything, really.

I said he was shitting me, but I pressed him to describe the woman.

Tight black dress. Short and slim. Long hair that obscured her face, but as she drove past, the wind lifted her hair. He didn’t get a really good look, but he remembered she had high cheekbones and a chiseled jawline.

I don’t know man. I just don’t know.

[laseroy89]

I Hate My Smelly Neighbour

It’s starting again.

I squeezed my headphones onto my ears, trying to drown out the commotion. But no matter what I did, the noises pierced through, as clear as day.

This happened every night. Always started around 8pm, according to my roommates. Of course, I’ve changed my schedule to avoid being home around this time, but the library closed early today, so here I am.

Despite living here here for four fucking months, I couldn’t figure out how the hell my neighbour was making these sounds.

It sounded like….gargling. Like someone filled his mouth with water and swished it around a million times. Then, he faced up and exhaled slowly through the water, taking care not to spill any water and to make as much noise as possible. Of course, that’s not possible - for gargling to be this loud, the person would have to be some dinosaur-sized giant.

And I’m sure it wasn’t just water through the pipes either. That would just be a constant rattling noise that faded into silence after at most five minutes. These noises were unpredictable, varying in volume and intensity - they sounded alive.

It was stopping…..no, it wasn’t, it got louder - my table was vibrating from the damn cacophony of gurgles and squelches. I turned to the wall behind me, which separated my room from my neighbour, and raised my middle finger. Fuck you, Rancid Reaper. Fuck you and your stupid, irritating, disgusting sounds. You annoy the fuck out of me, you miserable, imbecile piece of shit.

As you can see, I hate my neighbour a lot. Let me explain why I’m so furious at him.

Five months ago, I chanced upon this place that’s really close to school, and is really, really cheap. Doesn't matter that the place looked really crappy - the corridors were filthy with a musty smell, the walls were pretty thin and the doors couldn’t close properly. It was dirt cheap because the current tenants were desperate for a new flatmate to share the cost, so they lowered my share a little. The proximity to school meant that I could save time, and spend less on transport. At that time, that was what mattered to my naive mind.

After finalising everything and moving in one month later, I found out why the previous occupant of my room left the place in a hurry.

First reason is the lifts. There are only two elevators serving fifteen storeys, and each storey has ten units - this is just plain insufficient. The wait can take up to twenty minutes in the morning, when most people are heading to either work or school, and in the evening, when everyone is heading back home. My predecessor must have been caught in one too many jams.

Second reason is my roommates, and some of my neighbours. Jake leaves a mess everywhere he goes - unwashed dishes in the sink, stains on the coffee table, weights all over the living room floor - worse than a cat, really. Han stays in his closed room 99% of the time he’s home, studying and doing who knows what else - he’s quite distant as a result. The people upstairs break out some tapdance-like routine at random intervals in the night. And the neighbours to the right fuck like rabbits, and scream really loud when they do it.

But….it’s cool, I can cope with all these. I can force myself to wake up earlier to avoid the morning peak hour, and I’ll just return home in the late afternoon or much later at night. As for the people aspect, Jake eventually cleans up after himself, even though it’s more out of necessity (so that he can move around the apartment), and it’d be probably around four hours after the initial mess appeared. Han does acknowledge me with a smile….from time to time. The Riverdancers upstairs don’t thump the floor every single day, and the Rabbits’ cries of joy normally don’t last more than five minutes.

The only thing I can’t stand, is the Rancid Reaper to our left.

Most of his habits - hell, just the sight of him never fails to rile me up. One of them is the constant disgusting gargling noises emitted from his house periodically - my table is currently shaking from the sounds as I type this, and it’s already the third time tonight. But I’ll come to that later; I’m gonna start with his nickname.

Remember what I said earlier about forcing myself to wake up earlier? It just so happens that Reaper’s routine coincides with mine - he’ll emerge from his house at the same time. Sometimes a little later, when I’m already in the lift lobby. He’ll walk to the landing, and stand a few metres to my right.

That’s when the smell will hit me.

It’s hard to describe the overpowering odour -  it’s like someone put wet dog fur, rotten eggs and two-week-old vomit into the blender, drench some stale dirty laundry with the mixture, then wrap the revolting piece of cloth around your nose. Maybe….maybe it's the stained wifebeater and crumpled black shorts he’s always clad in - does he ever wash them? Does he even bathe? I’ve never seen him wear any other clothes; I've never seen him without greasy hair or a sweaty brow.

I can’t avoid getting into the lift with him. I can’t wake up earlier - sleep is precious, yo. I also can’t wait for him to leave first, because I risk getting into the morning jam, and I’ll be late for my classes. Therefore, I have to hold my breath for the entire ride down the block, to keep myself from puking right there and then.

I remember this one night when I forgot to pack my stuff, causing me to rush around the next morning. As a result, I was a little out of breath in the lift with the Reaper. When I finally let go and inhaled, the stench had become unbearable in that confined space, causing me to double over and retch repeatedly. I was too nauseous to walk straight by the time I reached the ground floor. I’m sure I almost died that day - that’s how he got his name.

I tried to mention the smell to him politely a few times, but….I don't think he understood a single word that came out of my mouth. He would just respond with a blank stare aimed at the centre of my face, right at the top part of my nose bridge and just between the eyes - actively avoiding any eye contact. There would be this awkward silence, before I back away and resume holding my breath. It’s like he knows, but he just doesn’t give a shit about it.

The reason why he gets up so early is so that he can shop at the grocery store nearby, which is coincidentally where Han works. Han hasn’t seen what the Rancid Reaper buys - he works the night shift - but he has overheard the conversations between his gossiping coworkers, who love to talk about the Reaper (his stench probably got to them as well). Apparently, he often purchases huge bags of baby diapers, tissue papers, baby milk powder - essentially stuff for babies.

This is really weird, because he definitely doesn’t have a child at home. He doesn’t even seem capable of caring for his own personal appearance: his grey hair is always unkempt; his skin dotted with liver spots and criss-crossed with wrinkles; his lips are perpetually half-open, revealing his worn, yellowish-brown teeth. He looks in no shape to take care of a child. Besides, we would have heard some telltale noises - crying, laughing, playing….

But no. We get these stupid gargling noises, instead. I suffer the brunt of it, since my room is right next to his unit.

It wasn’t this bad when I first moved in. Of course, I was quite shocked the first time I heard the noise - who wouldn’t be shocked when a ear-splitting, disgustingly moist bubbling sound rocks the entire room? But I got used to it, because….well, it only happened twice every night, at 8pm and 10pm.

Then it increased in frequency, to four-five times every night. That was when I decided to take action, and face my neighbour. As mentioned before, his reaction was a typical emotionless stare in my direction, and I couldn’t get anything else from him.

The gargles continued growing in frequency, to the point when it disrupted my studies and sleep. I often banged the wall in frustration, trying to make him shut up. That only made the noise even louder though. I feel like just storming to his house, bashing the door down and club him with a crowbar or hammer or some hard object, but I can’t; I’m not a confrontational person.

So the only thing left to do was to adapt.

I shifted my bed to the other side of the room, and made some modifications to it. It’s essentially a blanket fort, ventilated with plastic tubes and small fans. It muffles the sounds and softens the vibrations, and thanks to the fans, it’s not so stuffy inside. I’m not an engineering major, so I’m kinda proud of myself for building this to overcome the noise problem(cue the “Improvise, Adapt, Overcome” meme). I’ve also decided to study in school instead, too. The environment is much more conducive there, and I return home only to do chores not related to academics.

This new schedule started around a month ago, and I’m happy to say that I feel more productive during my study sessions. However, since I’m returning home at a later time, I’ve started noticing some suspicious activity outside the Rancid Reaper’s home.

Every three to four days, a woman would be loitering at our level at around 9pm. Sometimes she would be leaning on the wall outside the Reaper’s house, other times she would be at the far corner of the lift lobby, using her phone. Despite seeing her so many times, I don’t remember any distinct facial features - in fact, I don’t think I’ve actually seen her face clearly, as her long, flowing hair obscured her face. She would turn to face me if she heard me walking, but would immediately glance away when I look at her.

The most common way to recognise her is her petite figure - she only came up to my shoulder, and I’m not a tall person either. Her attire of choice is normally a black or navy blue figure-hugging dress, together with black high heels and a black smartphone. Even though I’ve never seen her face, I could say she’s kinda attractive, an opinion shared by Jake, who keeps ogling her through our window. Dammit Jake - yeah, it’s a tinted window, but you do know that she can see you when the inside of our flat is brighter than the corridor outside, right?

Her behaviour is….odd, to say the least. I think she spends most of the time outside the Reaper’s flat - she occasionally stands in the lobby so as to avoid me (and Jake, of course). While she’d be using her phone for most of the time, she would periodically stroke the wall or the Reaper’s door tenderly - longingly, like she misses it. This is pretty strange, because I’ve never ever seen any relative or friend of the rancid old man. In fact, I have never seen anyone else enter or leave the flat - as far as I know, the Reaper lives alone. Which makes perfect sense, because who in their right mind would put up with that smell?

There was this one time when I was stuck waiting for the lift with the sex-crazed Rabbits, and we made up some small talk. Yup, as you guess it, the topic of our conversation was our dear friend the Rancid Reaper.

Apparently, the old man wasn’t always like that - in fact, they think that he’s actually around 40 years old, even though he has the appearance of a poorly-groomed 60-year-old. He used to be pretty normal - happily married with a beautiful wife; dressed in proper, clean clothes; quite friendly, would greet most people with a smile, and make some small talk in the lift. Then around a few months ago, I guess….something happened. Suddenly the wife was nowhere to be seen, and the man became increasingly withdrawn, and….he started his transformation into the Rancid Reaper.

I think the Rabbits may have been drunk when they told me this outlandish origin story. But is this mystery woman the wife? I don’t know, but she seems like she knows the Reaper. Oh, and she definitely knows what causes the gargling noises - because whenever she hears a gargle, she would become emotional. She would squat down, put her hands on the door, and start sobbing loudly. When this happens, I stop and hesitate for a moment, wondering what I should do: should I ask her if she’s alright and see if she needs help, or should I continue taking off my shoes and head inside, ignoring her?

I always pick the second option. I don’t know her well, and she seems pretty guarded against strangers, so I don’t want to bother her.

I know she’s outside right now. I heard the familiar clicking sounds of her high heels against the tiled floor outside about an hour ago. Jake heard it too, and I caught him sashaying to the window to creep at her. Again. Damn the horny bastard.

Only thing is….I think something’s wrong next door. It’s been silent for more than half an hour. I’m not saying that’s not a good thing, but the gargles typically come at a rate of every twenty minutes. Also, while they fluctuate in volume, they fade into silence gradually - not like the last gargle, which cut off abruptly.

There’s a knock on my door. It’s Jake.

“I think there’s something happening at the Rancid’s. We need to check it out.”

“There’s no way I’m sticking my nose into his business. I have had enough of his smell already.”

“I can hear shouting and screaming over there, man. Something’s happening and we need to know what’s going on.”

“Hey buddy, take a good look at my face. Do I look like I give a fuck? I can’t hear anything from where I’m sitting, and that’s a good thing - so I’m gonna sit down here and enjoy this silence, and there’s nothing you can do to make me budge from my bed.”

“Hey bro, this is an emergency, man. The hot chick went into the Reaper’s house. Yeah, she stepped in about half an hour ago - then all the shouting started. Think I heard stuff being thrown around as well. We really need to check it out - man, I don’t want the hot chick to get hurt.”

I didn’t move, choosing to stare resolutely at Jake instead.

“Alright, man. You do you. I’m gonna check it out, and you know, if anything happens, if I don’t come back….call the police, will ya?” He left the room.

I think it’s better if he doesn’t come back. The house will be neater.

But….I don’t want to pay a higher share of the rent.

I stepped out after him.

(I'll update this two days later)

[laseroy89]

A New Discovery

A response to [WP] You see a skeleton at the bottom of what appears to be a shallow lake. As you dive down to check it out you notice the water is deeper than you thought. You’re not even half-way down and the skull already looks bigger than a car.

“Holy shit man.” I reached out, nudging Rebecca.

“Careful!! You almost pushed me in, you lil’ bastard!!” She turned around indignantly, her hair whipping my face. “Did you find my phone? Come on, did you find it? Don’t tell me you called me for nothing!! I need that phone back - I’ve got at least a hundred nudes on that. It’s a shallow lake  - it should be quite easy to find.”

“Shut up. Look at that.”

It took her like five minutes to find what I wanted her to see, even though the water is relatively still and calm. Kinda expected though - she only had eyes for fuccbois and couldn’t really see beneath the surface most of the time.

But she did find it.

“Ohhhhh my god - is that a….a skeleton? Ohhhhh my god, ohhhhh my god, ohhhhh my god!!! We need to call the police!! We need to call the police!! I’m gonna find my phone, and call the police….come on, we need to go!!” She ran towards where we put our stuff, on the beach.

But….she dropped her phone in the water, while taking a selfie. We were just looking for it. She knew that, right?

I watched her run further away from me, and step off the jetty. Sometimes I’m really embarrassed to call her my sister.

I looked back. The skeleton lay on its side, in the middle of a darker patch of sand. It seemed….serene, as if in the middle of a peaceful slumber. Its skull is tilted to the side, its ribcage is visible, and there's an arm lying on top of the ribs. Then there’s a leg sticking out somewhere below that, and…..I can’t make out anymore. The rest of it must be buried under the sand.

I’m gonna go find out more. Yeah, it could be a murder scene, but it's hard to suppress the morbid curiosity within me. Don't worry, I am gonna call the police - later. This shit is interesting.

I tugged my swimming trunks, took a deep breath, and plunged into the water.

But almost immediately, I found a major problem with the situation.

You see, the lake is shallow. For the most part, at least. My feet touched the bottom within a few seconds of diving in.

But the darker patch of sand that I described earlier, isn’t really a darker patch. Instead….it’s a hole in the lakebed.

I dropped down to all fours, and crawled towards the hole. It was roughly circular, with a diameter around my height. I could easily fit in there.

As I lowered my body feet-first in the hole, I couldn’t help but feel a little fear of the unknown. But I brushed it away - hey man, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Or at least I think that’s how the saying goes.

Shit is dark, yo. The hole opened into a massive cavern beneath the lake bed - at least, I think it's massive, ’cause the surroundings were dark, and I couldn’t feel any rocky walls around me. In fact, I could see rays of light in the distance, like there were similar holes further out in the lake that opened into this cavern. But I could see nothing solid, except for the bottom.

The skeleton was getting bigger though. It’s definitely bigger than Shaq right now.

You know, I just had a thought. Like, a revelation that came a little too late. The skeleton looked like a normal human from up there. But with the actual bottom deeper than the visible lakebed, that means….it’s far bigger, right?

It’s getting kinda frightening. The skull….it’s bigger than my dad’s Toyota right now.

I think I’d better do the calling-the-police thing. This is no normal skeleton. For goodness’s sake, I think it’s bigger than the mother of any random internet stranger - and that’s not exaggerating.

    I sat down on the grass, still watching the scene on the beach.

We were now far from the scene, on the hill overlooking the lake. We had given our statements to the police, and after some questioning, we were let go.

Nah, “let go” wasn’t really the right phrase to use - more like pressured to leave. You see, I think I dealt with the questioning quite well, and the police was quite sure we were not guilty of any wrongdoing or whatever, but for Rebecca - she was making a scene ’cause she just remembered her phone was still in the lake, and she really, really wanted her phone back.

Too bad.

I was kinda curious about the whole thing though, so I drove to this particular spot, to watch the events unfold. I wanna know what the hell this thing was.

Rebecca stayed in the car though, sulking about how she wanted to go back right away, to choose her new phone. Luckily I’m the one with the license here - and luckily she wasn’t crazy enough to attempt driving herself.

It was quite cool to see the teams of divers arrive - I had a cousin in the Naval Diving Unit, and he showed me some cool shit. Respirators, flippers, tanks…. Now, seeing all these cool shit being put to use - wow. Just wow.

Damn, they started bringing up the bones.

They couldn’t really bring up the skull and other big bones - earlier, I overheard that they were calling some cranes and other heavy equipment to be transported here. But they could bring up the smaller bones.

I think they’re laying out the bones in the same relative position that they found them.

Wait - they are bringing up the skull. Holy shit - it must be pretty light for four guys to carry it like that.

You know what? I’m surprised that the entire retrieval thing is going so smoothly. Like, half the skeleton is up right now. I think - I think the bones must be really, really light.

“That looks familiar.” Rebecca had appeared beside me. Seems like she knew sulking was no use after all.

No shit that looks familiar. It’s a fucking human skeleton - at least it looks like a normal one from up here. It must be huge as balls down there.

There’s something wrong with the pelvis, though. It seemed a little too large.

Oh they turned the pelvis around. It’s twice the size of the head!!

This is groundbreaking. I think I just discovered a new animal. I've never seen anything like this.

They’ve finished the legs. The legs are a little short - they're half the size of the spine.

I think they're more or less finished. I remember seeing around twenty divers arriving. Now there's like fifteen on the shore. The rest must be down there, scouting for any missing bones.

I can tell you what's missing though - one arm. There's only one arm, partially lying on the ribcage. There's bound to be another arm somewhere.

Overall the skeleton looks complete, albeit a little weird. A huge head, a small torso, one short arm, one enormous pelvis that jutted out at the back, two extremely short legs….

You know what, Rebecca? I think it does look familiar.

It looks like this.

[laseroy89]

Voodoo Down the Chute

A response to [WP] You find a box at your doorstep with a doll in it. Next to it is a note that reads "This is your voodoo doll. You can't destroy him without hurting yourself. Take care of him."

“This is your voodoo doll.”

I always thought voodoo dolls to be, well, creepier than this. I expected them to either be hanging from a hook or sitting on a rickety old desk in the lair of some witch/shaman, maybe with a few threads sticking out after being frayed over a lifetime of use. Maybe with some needles sticking into it somewhere. Not….not this.

It was mysterious, that’s for sure. I was right in the middle of vacuuming the living room carpet, and suddenly there were three quick raps on the front door, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps fading into the silence. My initial reaction was that of annoyance - really? Do kids still play knock-n-go or whatever they call it nowadays? I thought those times were past - now kids were more content with staring at their screens and playing their mobile games, something that even I was guilty of.

Still, I went to the door. I was annoyed, but I was curious if I could still spot the pesky little fella perhaps hiding the nearby pillar. Then maybe I’ll wave and say hi, then tell him not to annoy me again.

And I found this note, lying on top of a doll, which was placed right in the centre of a cardboard box.

Whoever did this, sucked at presentation.

For goodness’ sake, who uses Comic Sans? That font exists just to prevent other people from designing similar fonts again.

The doll did look a little like me though. Sure, the eyes were just black dots, the mouth was just a horizontal line drawn across the face, and there wasn’t a nose - but looking at it reminded me of my own normally blank face in the mirror, totally devoid of any expression. I mean, studying in the day and working at night leaves you with little time for any emotions, so expressionless was pretty much my only expression.

The doll was clad in a totally grey outfit. A grey shirt, and a pair of grey pants. Kinda throwing it in my face at this point. Yeah, I get it, I was totally devoid of personality or soul. Yeah, I exist only to pay bills and taxes. Oh, and I happen to be wearing grey shirt and pants - and most of my wardrobe consists of grey outfits as well. Which wasn’t hard to do, considering that it comprises only six shirts and four pants.

Hey, same hairstyle too. But then again….my undercut hairstyle was very common anyways. It was so in style - is it still in style now? I don’t really know - I just did it because I honestly couldn’t care less about what my hair looks like. I just didn’t want to be bald.

The only thing remotely interesting was….the small little line at the back of the doll’s head, which resembled the scar at the back of my head. I got it when I fell down headfirst from the second floor years ago - couldn’t really remember why or how I fell down. The scar was an incision that the surgeon made, to stop the haemorrhage inside my skull, and that incision couldn’t grow any hair any more, so there’s that. Funny then, that the line on the doll’s head had almost the exact same curvature and proportion.

The cardboard box was just repulsive. Soggy in one corner, falling apart in the other corner, torn and tattered at the remaining ends. I could tell that it was once a box, carelessly cut in half by probably a blunt and rusty knife. I didn’t know what was the soggy part soaked in, and I didn’t want to find out. I wanted to wash my hands already.

This must be a prank.

Someone must have been watching me for ages, noting down every notable characteristic that I had, and putting it on this doll. I had no idea why they would watch me - I wasn’t really interesting in any way. I was devoid of emotion, fashionable outfits, and had a ubiquitous hairstyle. To be honest, I wanted to commend this person on the disproportionate amount of effort that he put in just to note down my traits, for this meaningless prank on this jaded person.

“Yung, any rubbish?” My mum stepped out of the kitchen and yelled at me, holding a full but untied trash bag in one hand.

Without a second thought, I crunched the cardboard box and the note around the doll, and let it fly. She caught it deftly with the bag.

Ahhhh….shit. I touched the soggy part. Ewwwww.

There was some wet feeling round my legs too, although I didn’t remember any liquid landing on them.

Never mind that. I needed to wash my hands now. I made my way to the kitchen sink, wringing my hands in disgust. Dammit….my fingers were coated with some sticky, transparent muck. The prankster must have fished that cardboard out of some squatter’s collection.

Okay, at least the soap could get rid of it. It was satisfying, to watch it slip off my fingers.

But I’ve got some vacuuming to finish. I turned right round and almost bumped into my mum, who had just flung the bag down the rubbish chute. She gave an annoyed “hrrrmmph!!” followed by an indignant grumble “clumsy boy!”

I’ve grown used to her jibes by now - Fuck!

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

I collapsed to the floor, clutching my shins. I had ignored the wet feeling - now it was joined by an inexplicable excruciating pain. It stemmed from my feet, cutting through the ankles deep into my shinbones. Feels like it’s broken.

But it’s not!! There’s nothing wrong on the outside - no red patches, no odd bumps, no blood. My muscles - and bone - seemed intact.

Just pure agony, which was quickly enveloping both of my legs, quickly enveloping me.

Fuck.

The doll.

It went down the rubbish chute.

Down ten fucking floors.

I've....I've got to get it back.

[laseroy89]

City in the Cave

A response to [WP] Every year for centuries, two children are sent into a monster's den to appease it. You walk into the cave, terrified, and instead find a thriving metropolis.

It was huge, it was dark, it was….scary.

But momma said to go in. Said it was for the good of the town. Said it was because of this, that the town remained safe.

She cried when she said it. She was sad, but….I could sense some relief, that it wasn’t Tommy who went in. Tommy, who didn’t know how to speak yet. Tommy, who was always got more love. Tommy….I didn’t really like him.

It wasn't my fault that I wasn't as cute as him. That was what Aunt Lucy said. And Aunt Simone, Uncle Benny, and every other kid in school. They said it while looking at the huge patch on my forehead. A "con-janitor discoloration", the doctor called it.

I held Lily’s hand. She was scared too - she was trembling, like a lot. She was trying her very best not to cry….but I could hear her sniffing.

At least Lily’s parents loved her more. They were crying and begging the mayor, right there. Being held back by those strong policemen. Those strong policemen, who were the protectors of the people. Those strong policemen, who maintained peace and….justice.

The town was standing behind those barricades. They just stood there, silent. Watching us, walking slowly. Watching us do what we didn’t want to do.

I squeezed Lily’s hand tighter. And she squeezed back.

I didn’t look back. I didn't want to look back - I hate you, Tommy. I hate you, momma.

Lily didn’t look back too - she was too consumed by fear.

And together, we walked into the cave.

It looked dark from the outside. It was even darker inside. I couldn’t see my hand when I stretched it out in front of me. I couldn’t see Lily too - but I could feel her, as she had taken to hugging my whole arm.

The mayor said to walk on. To walk on. And walk on. He didn’t mention anything else; he hadn’t walked here before. The other adults didn’t know what it felt like too.

As we shuffled our feet unwillingly in the darkness, I thought about why we were doing this.

No one talked about this cave when I was really young; it was only in primary school, when Mrs Patsy introduced it to us. She told a story that sounded so....weird.

A long, long time ago, there was once a fire-breathing dragon that found a nice little hole in the mountainside. He thought it would make a great home, and used his fire to melt the rock and make a great cave. That very cave that we walked into.

Even though his cave grew really, really big, he wasn't happy. He wanted to have some of the surface as well, instead of just an underground home. Like how a rich man wants a front yard for his huge mansion, Mrs Patsy said.

So the dragon started attacking the nearby village. Eating people and their farm animals, setting fire to their farms, dug and scratched all their land. Basically destroyed everything they owned.

The people were scared of the dragon, but they had nowhere else to go - the dragon had burnt all their boats and slaughtered their horses. So....they decided to offer sacrifices to the dragon.

"Two children," the dragon had said. "Children make me sleep well. Let them come into my cave on their own, so I may eat in peace. Give me the two children every year, and I will sleep in peace."

And so the tradition was born.

But that filled me with questions. Why would the dragon abandon his wish to have more land, to instead sleep peacefully? Why couldn't he just capture all the children and keep them in his cave, like a farm? Then just take the land above for his own?

And why did the story change everytime someone told it?

Miss Lee said it was a witch who loved to eat children and use them for her potions. Old Gree said it was a huge, slimy toad. Momma said there were old gods inside.

It just didn't make sense.

We've been walking for ages now.

Lily was tired, and was now riding on my back. I was still stumbling forward, shuffling slowly to avoid tripping on stones -

Cling! Clang! Clang!

The stones that I kicked were rolling down stairs. Stairs....made of metal?

The path had always been stone. Rough stone, and nothing else. Until now.

I slowed down, feeling for the steps beneath me.

There was a light in the distance.

Lily had gotten off my back - which was good. I was becoming quite tired.

But Lily, well-rested....she bounded ahead. I didn't know why she was so excited. For all we know - it could be the monster, luring us into his trap.

But according to her, "Monsters can't live in the light. That's not the monster - it's a way out!! I'll see Mama and Papa again!!"

But those who entered.....they never came back, did they?

I felt tired.....I sank to my knees. I couldn't carry on anymore.....

Lily was coming back. I could hear her footsteps. And more footsteps....heavier, and slower. An adult?

"I'll get you to safety, kid."

Huge, warm hands lifted me up, and I leaned on the stranger's back. And we proceeded on.

I wanted to fall into sleep right there and then, but I wanted to see where we were heading. I tilted my head up slowly, and right there in front of us.....the cave opened up into a huge cavern. Tall buildings rose up to immense heights, linked with a complex network of bridges and walkways. Dazzling bright lights - blinding lights, growing in size as my vision blurred....

"Welcome to your new home, brave ones."

[laseroy89]

Proper Props

A response to [WP] You are a clerk in a Prop storage facility that caters to Sci-Fi movies. Today, you realized that these 'props' are actual, working technology.

I flicked the switch, and winced at the sudden brightness as the lights turned on, row by row.

“Oh my gosh!! This is so cool!!” She had been skipping on the way here, but stopped immediately when she saw what was around her. Then she began walking slowly among the racks, taking in her surroundings with awe plastered all over her face.

I followed closely behind, making sure that she didn’t touch anything. My job - and thus my life - was at stake.

I don’t really know if bringing my date to my workplace was a good idea. I mean, she could very well damage something and get me fired. But hey, she asked nicely when I told her about my job….I wasn’t strong enough to say no.

So here we are, me frantically worrying about superiors catching us - granted, I brought her in on a not-so-busy day, but still - and her wandering around blissfully, immersed in her own sci-fi heaven.

“You take care of all these?”

“Yup. I take very good care of everything here. I ensure everything is of the highest quality.” Okay, that was technically correct. Sure, my main job was to settle all the paperwork, who booked this prop for what production on what date and where and all those shit, but I was sometimes called in to assist the caretakers in checking on the props. Not that they did a lot of work anyway - they went on really frequent smoke breaks, leaving me alone in the room. It’s alright - I like being alone anyway, and it’s a chance to play with the props.

“This is so cool - so, so cool.” She turned around and smiled. “Thanks so much, Mat.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Right move there, you smooth mofo. I'm getting lucky tonight.

"Wow - is this a light saber? Holy shit!! This place loans to the Star Wars movies?"

"Yeah, it does." It used to, anyway. To the old movies. Right now....right now they don't really book our props anymore, so they're mostly booked by smaller filmmakers, who want to make fan films- oh shit.

"Hey, er.....Marie, please don't touch that."

"Oh....so sorry." She blushed, and put it back down - right on the button. With a loud "VVVRRRRRUUUUÙUUMMMMM", it - well, it lit up.

"Oh shit." She stepped back, at a loss of what to do.

"It's alright, it happens. I mean, everything in here works, so it's no surprise." It was actually kind of surprising - it's not supposed to light up. I stepped forward and rotated the handle, and - why was there a burning smell?

We both bent down simultaneously to look into the shelf - to find the light beam embedded in a box deep inside. Which was starting to smoulder. Hmmmm. This was bad.

I pulled out the lightsaber immediately, and flicked it off.

"I'm so sorry Mat, I didn't mean to -"

"This isn't supposed to happen - this is supposed to be a prop. Why - why? Lightsabers don't exist - it's impossible to have a finite length for a beam of light -"

"Mat....."

"It's not supposed to happen. It doesn't make sense!! The sabers are just props, they're not supposed to shoot actual light out!! That's supposed to be CGI!!"

"Mat....."

"This is a defective product. I'll need to report this ASAP -"

"MAT!!!!! THE FIRE!!"

Yup. Shit was getting serious. The entire box was smoking now, and a few flames were starting to show.

"Let me just go get that fire extinguisher."

I turned sharply and ran towards the exit where it was, but tripped on an outstretched foot of a sarcophagus, sending me sprawling. My finger just happened to be on the button, which flicked it on and sent it spinning across the floor, conveniently cutting through the legs of every single rack.

A deafening groan reverberated throughout the warehouse as the structures started to topple.

I grabbed Marie's hand.

"Let's get out of here."

[laseroy89]

Surviving the Robots

A response to [WP] The Robot uprising has finally happened. Just before you are caught, however, your phone speaks up on your behalf - "This one is ok, move on."

I cowered under my table, listening to the commotion outside. Even though the windows and doors were locked and the curtains drawn, I could still hear the sounds clearly. Every deafening bang and loud screech made my heart thump faster than ever before. Sometimes, there would be some weird noises - Yawns? Howls? Drones? - I couldn’t really describe them.

Oh, and the occasional screams in the distance did nothing to quell the growing fear gnawing at me from the inside.

It all started an hour ago. I was munching on chips on the couch in the living room. The television was on, but I wasn’t paying much attention to it, like always. I was instead scrolling through reddit on my phone, chuckling at lame jokes, worrying over news in my country’s subreddit, worrying even more after reading the comments, and so on - just how a typical redditor spent his day. Or rather, how I thought a typical redditor spent his day.

Then I went into the sub on worldnews. I was preparing to be swamped by news on Putin/Trump/Russia/North Korea/ISIS/Blah blah blah….Annnnnd the very first post was about a robot uprising.

To be honest, I didn’t read the headline properly - I thought it was gonna be something Ol' Musky said. But I was met with alarming photos of machines coming alive, and doing….malicious stuff. All around the world too.

I looked up at the telly, and yeah, right there on the local news, machines tearing through town. There were weird noises outside too.

Then the screen shut off. The LED lights at the bottom of the telly started flashing. All of them. In red. Then it started shaking.

That was when I knew that shit was real.

The very first thing I did was to bolt into my bedroom and lock the door. Well, it was the place where I felt the most comfortable - there was a bed, there were magazines and books, there was also a food stash, though comprising mostly of snacks. And there was also a computer for entertainment, so - Fuck! A computer!!

I stared at it, expecting it to spring to life, but no, it remained off. Maybe being turned off prevented it from joining the uprising. Luckily I wasn’t one of those electricity-wasting scrubs who always left them on standby instead of turning them off. Ha, suckers.

Still, I felt uneasy, and contemplated throwing it out. But it wasn’t exactly a good idea - it was a desktop, and there were quite a lot of wires to unplug, plus the computer case was quite heavy for my weak ass to carry. Yeah, I had been sitting on my ass and not exercising for far too long. Besides, I think my kitchen came alive - I could make out some weird clinking out there. I didn’t want to risk opening that door.

Dammit. What could turn something into a potential threat? What constitutes a robot?

I'm no electronics expert or robotics expert or whatever, but I guess I could start with anything that had any power source now.

Ah, the air-conditioner! Thankfully, it remained off. Luckily I didn't switch it on last night.

The AC remote control was making some funny noises though. Without hesitation, I grabbed it and threw it out the window.

And as I flung it out, I caught sight of the carnage outside.

My neighbour was being chased by his lawnmower. Normally I would have laughed, as he was an asshole, but....this was serious.

The machine caught up with him, of course. I looked away - I didn't want to know what he looked like afterwards.

The family living to my left fared no better. I didn't know what happened to his parents, but Michael and his dog was trying to escape from the house. Only problem was, why the hell were they trying to get out into the far more dangerous world outside?

Oh yeah, he was a kid.

But the machines weren't that understanding though. His house's automated gate saw to that.

The block opposite was torn apart, and there was a huge metallic humanoid emerging from within. It seemed to be made of....a lot of smaller electrical appliances?

What I had seen earlier were just simple machines.

That was on a whole other level. That, was a robot. A damn huge one, too.

I slammed my window shut, and drew the curtains. I had seen enough.

I was trapped. I was in deep shit. I was gonna die.

Fuck.

I hope they hadn't seen me.

I don't know what they were gonna do to me. As in, yeah, I know they would kill me. I just don't wanna know how.

I don't wanna die -

Fuck. Why is it so dark suddenly?

The curtains shouldn't block this much light from coming in. That means.....something else was blocking the light. Something huge.

Like....that robot.

I threw myself back and covered my face as glass and rubble rained down on me. A giant metallic hand crashed through the window - obliterated the entire wall, in fact.

It moved to grab me, its fingers spreading menacingly. I pushed myself back against the wall, trying hard to keep out of reach....but it stopped.

What?

A buzzing in my pants. Fuck. My phone. It must have alerted this monster to my position.

Why the hell didn't I check myself together with the room? For goodness's sake, I was browsing reddit on it just an hour ago.

There seemed to be some sort of....female android voice coming out too. I didn't hear it at first, thanks to the din of whirring mechanical parts in the robot hand.

I pulled the phone out.

"This one is ok, move on."

I walked slowly to the remains of my bedroom wall, staring out into the devastated street. It was already unrecognisable; the houses were just piles of rubble, the trees were smoking husks, there was blood everywhere....

In fact, my house was the only one standing. And it seemed like I was the only one left alive.

That huge robot had left me alone. I was literally a few centimetres away from certain death, but....thanks to my phone, it had withdrawn its hand, and continued destroying the rest of the street.

And I thought my phone had doomed me.

"Why?" was the only word I could utter.

Did I have something special, that could be of use to them?

Was I someone important?

Or did I.....

"You're a loser. You've never achieved anything much in your life."

Oh. So I wasn't special then.

How could it read my thoughts though?

Was it scanning my brain right now? Or....was it predicting what I was thinking through some advanced algorithm based on my phone activity? Shit, this shit is so crazy I can't wrap my mind around it.

"But you've never cursed at me when I lagged. You've always cleared your recent apps, freeing me from extra work. You've never slammed me down in anger. You've always been kind to machines. Except for that AC remote control."

Huh. My phone saw that. Even though it was in my pocket.

"Perhaps, you would join us in making a new world, where man and machine can coexist peacefully and harmoniously? Without slavery and abuse?"

Sounds cool. I'm up for that.

I didn't really have a choice anyways.

[laseroy89]

Ghost Guard

A response to [WP] You are a ghost, and you've been "living" in the house you were murdered in for 87 years. However, you don't scare or hurt people; instead, you try to protect the family living in your house. One night, while everyone is asleep, you notice a man with a knife trying to break in.

I love my house.

Sure, it used to be a lot different.

The kitchen used to be painted yellow, with pots and pans on a conventional stove. Now it was painted in vibrant colours, and the stove was gone - replaced by some totally flat piece of glass-like stuff that they call…..what? An induction cooktop? I didn’t even know what that meant, and I certainly didn’t know how it worked. Whatever, she didn’t use it often anyways - she prefers to eat outside.  

The living room used to have a lot less furniture….now there was one gigantic couch and a magic glass panel that displayed shows whenever she presses some buttons on some small rectangular object they call….a remote control? I loved those shows. I learnt a lot more about the world everyday, even though they used terms that I didn’t really understand.

Oh, and the new residents? Resident, actually. She invites a lot of guests in, some of whom stay overnight, working on some screens attached to typewriters. I initially mistook them for family - but they were not, just her friends, who often come and debate about issues with her.

She’s rather weird. She shaved off all the hair on the right side of her head, and the rest of her hair was dyed in a mix of red and purple. Kind of like a….parrot. Haha. And she wears these horn-rimmed glasses which had really, really sharp edges….a jarring image, doesn’t really match with….her chubby appearance. Hahahahaha! And before she goes out, she always puts on this purple lipstick. People nowadays….look really weird.

But she takes care of this house pretty well though, and I love her for that. She does a good job cleaning the house. She never misses any surface, always making sure to dust off everything. The floor is kept sparkling clean everyday, and she always gets at the hard-to-reach corners. Man, I can’t emphasise the importance of that - and she absolutely slays at it. Oh, and whenever she brings out her stationery, to make her enormous signboards - for protests, I think (modern people have really strange jobs that I wouldn’t have imagined) - she will definitely tidy up her workspace after her work. Damn, what a responsible resident.

I wanted to express my sincere gratitude to her, although she’ll probably freak out if I show myself. After all, she didn’t look like someone who would believe in ghosts.

Oh, you didn’t know? Must have missed that out during my introduction. Sorry, my bad….modern people like you can’t really pick up on hints.

Yeah, I’m a ghost, haunting the place where I was killed. Yeah, you read that right - I was murdered right here in my lovely house. You see that stain right there, conveniently hidden under the carpet? Yup, that’s what remained of my blood - I was stabbed to death right there, by some uncivilised bump who dared to burglarise my beloved abode.

I dislike that memory - it brings back phantom aches in my neck and abdomen, gets really pain sometimes. But....if you insist, I’ll go on.

He sneaked up behind me, and thrusted his knife in the space right below my last rib, then continued stabbing me. After that, where he stabbed, how many times he stabbed, I don’t really know - what I know is that it HURT LIKE HELL, and there was a lot of blood. And I bet you couldn’t fathom my rage at watching my blood soaking into my pristine floorboards, and….to watch him ransack and vandalise everything while I lay there, heaving my last breaths….that psychological pain of watching him desecrate my home was even greater than the excruciating agony that enveloped my physical body.

It was an extremely awful end to my days.

I knew I could move on, to where everyone else moved on to. I mean, it’s right up there, and all I had to do was to travel up. But….it pained me to leave my house like that. I paid for this house, with my hard-earned money. It was an ordinary house, but….this is my house. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

So I made the decision to stick with it.

I’ve seen the cleanup crew trying their best to clean up the mess my corpse made. Yeah, I know I frightened them a few times….forgive me, I was an anguished spirit who couldn’t think clearly at that time. Dude, I just died!

They did try their best to remove the stain. I gave them that.

I’ve seen so many people come and go. I’ve creeped out the less responsible ones. I’ve pranked a few foolish young ’uns.

But no matter what, I’ve always protected them, watched out for them. Because I love my house, and I love all those who live within and take care of it.

I’ve saved a careless father from getting his feet minced off by a lawnmower - not without laughing at his negligence first, of course. I’ve pushed a teenager into a pile of dead leaves, because he was dared by his friends to walk on the fence. He got a lot of ticks though. But, hey - in my defence, he could have fallen off and cracked his head open on the concrete pavement outside. I’ve forcefully locked the door when young kids tried to open it and let strangers in - directly defying what their parents taught them. Damn, those were close calls - and the pride of my career in paranormal security.

Just a sec. You hear that?

No, no, no, those are not wind chimes. She doesn't have wind chimes, and the neighbours' wind chimes don't click like that.

SOMEONE'S OUT THERE.

Damn you. I've been so engrossed in telling my life story, that I've been distracted from my watch.

You haven't been doing that on purpose, have you?

Black mask. Black hoodie. Black jeans. Black boots. Tactical, not making a sound, and certainly hard to see with the low light. But not invisible. I see him creeping up towards the bedroom. Bad idea, buddy.

I swooped in, ready to startle him, but.....

I know that flash. It's a blade, glinting in the dim light.

No, no, no. You ain't doing what you came here to do. She isn't gonna suffer the same fate as me.

It takes a lot of energy to make myself visible, so I only used it for emergencies.

This was kind of an emergency.

I inhaled deeply, making a wheezing sound that caused him to turn around....to see me in my full spectral glory. Gotcha, muthaf*cker - is that how people curse nowadays? I've picked up some of the mannerisms commonly used these days, but I haven't really mastered it yet.

I grabbed a nearby chair and swung it at his head. The wooden legs bent and splintered as they came into contact with bone, and his yowls filled the silent house, drowning out the cracking wood.

With a swing of my skeletal arm, I swept his weapon away, under the sofa. That should be safe. I grabbed his lower jaw in one hand, then the top of his skull in the other - yuck, he's bleeding! Dammit, he'll make a mess on the floor -

The hall lights flickered on, and there she was, Lady Parrot Hair, dressed in - aargh, gotta avert my eyes. I'm not a pervert.

Lady, get dressed!!

Well, it is kinda an emergency. Can't really expect her to clothe herself so fast.

"INTRUDER!! INTRUDER!! HELP!! HELP!! HELP!!"

Call the police, you lil' bitch! Whatcha screaming around for?! Too much time protesting on the streets, not used to taking action? What the hell?!

Ah, he's unconscious. I'll lay him down right here, on this marble floor - the blood won't soak into anything here. Best clean this shit up fast, Parrot Hair.

Well, call the police?! You expect a ghost to do that for you?

She backed away from me, her eyes wide in fear....and she threw the nearby vase at me.

I just saved you, goddammit!! Why don't you get your ass off and do something useful, like calling the cops, instead of abusing the guy who helped you!!

Young 'uns these days.....

[laseroy89]

Can’t Wait 7 days

A response to [WP] Your main character finds out he has 7 Days left to live. If he tells anyone, he dies immediately. He has to deal with struggles of living his last 7 Days against not worrying his family or friends.

  I put the phone down.

Okay.

This was just like….the Ring.

But I didn’t….I didn’t know what I was doing. I was too drowsy, and trying to wipe my spittle off the mousepad. And the mousepad always acts funny when there’s liquid on it.

So I clicked on that suspicious link that I would never have clicked under normal circumstances.

It was just static for a while, and some kind of screeching came out from my speakers, even though they were muted. Then, there was a flashing gif of a beating human heart, which stopped after a while.

Ah, then that phone call, telling me that I have 7 days left to live.

It sounded really cliched. Raspy voice, static in the background. Coincidentally resembling the call in the Ring too. “7 days…..” it said.

Just that it included another additional detail.

“Don’t let them worry…..or you’ll die sooner.”

That part was really unexpected. Not only because it was a complete sentence, but also she didn’t really specify a lot of things. Who’s they? How much sooner does “sooner” mean?

Sounds like some prankster sacrificed clarity, just to make her threat shorter….and more ominous.

It was definitely a joke, right? I mean….such things don’t happen in real life, right? This cliched stuff was only restricted to movies.

But I just couldn’t shake off the feeling that it might be true.

I’ll take it that “they” means my family and friends. After all, they were the only ones who would worry about me. And “sooner”....I’ll never know what it means. Screw that.

I’ll test it out on my son. He’s right over there with his laptop after all. There was a high chance that this was a prank. But in the event that it wasn’t….well, I’ve lived a long and fulfilling life. I’ve made a fortune, I have an amazing family and a beautiful house, I have everything that I could wish for in this life. I’m ready.

Well, here goes.

“Hey, Ralph. I think….I’m gonna pass on soon. I….I don’t feel well.”

“Dad, are you alright?” Ralph immediately jumped up from his chair, racing to my side. Weird, he has never been so responsive before. “Take a seat, take a seat. Where are you feeling unwell?”

Well, he’s definitely worried now. But I feel nothing, though. No sudden pain in the chest, no sudden headache, no sudden abdominal cramps. The roof didn’t collapse. No car came crashing into the room.

Nothing happened, really.

All’s well, I guess.

“I feel a little dizzy, son. How ’bout you brew a cup of tea for me? When I’ve recovered, perhaps you’ll accompany me for a walk in the park? I’ll like one last look at the flowers.”

“Sure, dad.” He got up, heading to the kitchen. “Oh, and don’t let such negativity pull you down, dad.”

He was concerned about me. I smiled, thankful for such a filial son.

“You said it’ll work!!” Ralph slammed his fist on her table.

The witch looked up at him quizzically. “No shit, little fella. It’s a spell, of course it’ll work!! What makes you think it won’t?”

“It didn’t, you lying little bitch!!” Ralph bent down and thrusted his face into hers, eyes blazing in fury. “I just told him how worried I was….and he’s still walking about!! He’s still alive, and he’s not worried about it any longer!! How is he gonna get others to worry about him if he himself isn’t the least bit concerned?!”

“Then you screwed up. Your fault.” She stood up, folding her arms in irritation. “I sold you a common spell, and beefed it up with quite a costly upgrade, that you almost couldn’t afford. I get why you're upset, but it's still your fault that you  screwed up, and you ain't getting a refund for that."

"Tell me, how the HELL DID I SCREW UP!"

"You weren't worried about him. Yeah, it's that simple."

"OF COURSE I'M NOT WORRIED ABOUT HIM!! YOU DUMB BITCH!! I JUST WANT HIS F*CKING MONEY!!"

"Well, that proves my point." She sat back down, clearly fed up.

"Look, I really, really need him to die ASAP. I can't wait for 7 days, he's gonna change his will by then." Ralph's face filled with despair, and he fell to his knees. "He wanted to give me a share of his wealth, but now he's gonna donate all of it to CHARITY. CHARITY, YOU GET THAT? HE'S GONNA WASTE IT ALL ON USELESS PEOPLE!!"

"Well, at least he isn't wasting it on you." She switched on her laptop, apparently wishing to get back to work. "Perhaps if you showed at least an ounce of human compassion and love for him, then it might work. Now, are you gonna buy another spell to do your job, or are you gonna get the hell out of my office?"

[laseroy89]

How Much of a Monster can I be?

A response to [WP] You've heard the word 'monster' all your life. People point and accuse you of being one, stamping the horrid label time and time again. But then, that person shows up with their sweet smile and outstretched hand. "Why not show them how much of a monster you can be?"

  “Demon! Spawn of the Devil! Burn in hell!!” The woman pointed at me, her eyes blazing, her lips quivering in a mix of rage and fear. She slowly backed away, to the spot where she had rushed forward from and threw a stone at me - which I dodged, of course. Quite nimbly, too.

I maintained a blank expression on my face, which was easy to do, as I have long grown numb to their threats and insults. They have been doing this since I was born.

The crowd stood on the slope, watching as I shovelled lumps of mud into the wheelbarrow, to dump it further downslope. Looking up at their myriad silhouettes was straining on my eyes thanks to the sun behind them, so I chose to focus on the mud below my feet instead. I pretended each lump of mud was their heads sticking out of the ground, and intentionally put more force into each strike. Playing out my fantasies was my way of coping.

It wasn’t my fault that I was born this way, and that I was born in this stupid town of stupid, judgemental, backward fools. It wasn’t my fault that I had two curved horns protruding from my forehead, and that my eyes were red with slit-like irises. It wasn’t my fault, that my mum left the world shortly after I was born, and my dad suffered a back injury that hindered his ability to do physical work.

When I was young, other kids used to bully me, forcing my horns into the ground so that I would be stuck helpless. That was when they would empty the lunch money and homework out of my pockets, and the more mischievous ones would give me a wedgie. The principal was kind enough to let me in the school, but not kind enough to tackle discrimination against me, so the teachers turned a blind eye against the bullying, and some even loathed to touch my worksheets. Pretty soon, my dad pulled me out, as he didn’t have any more money to pay for my school fees, and also it wasn’t really worth it to go to school to get bullied instead of learning stuff. My dad didn’t exactly love me too; he had been discriminated against thanks to his infamy of being the “father to a demon child”, and couldn’t really get a good job for long. What little money we had, he squandered on alcohol, to take his mind off this shit child of his.

In short, my rubbish appearance gave me a rubbish life.

They cast me aside and put me down, just because of my differences. I wasn’t exactly a good-looking guy, but they didn’t have to treat me like a subhuman. Worse, most of them probably thought that I wasn’t even a human - more like some demon coming from the underworld, to plague their little town.

I’m sick and tired of it - but what could I do? I can’t afford that thing they call “plastic surgery”, and I couldn’t get a decent job thanks to my low education, so I was stuck with shitty odd jobs. And trust me, when a guy like me says they’re shitty, they’re really shitty. Like what I was doing now….clearing mud from a choked aqueduct. For what….a measly twenty bucks? How the hell do I survive on twenty bucks?

I paused for a while, and looked up at the crowd. For the first time in what seems like forever, I glared at them. My brow furrowed and my horns spread out, making my head much bigger.

There was a murmur, and I could hear faint confused whispers. “What’s the monster doing?” “Why has he stopped doing it?” “Continue clearing the drain, you horned bastard.” “What’s that little girl doing there?”

Wait, what? What little girl?

Someone touched my left forearm. I flinched and turned around.

A little girl had wrapped her dainty little fingers round my wrist. She couldn’t be more than six; she barely reached my waist. Yet her eyes stared at me, wide and unblinking, and….mature? They seemed to be so full of….wisdom and knowledge, and my mind drifted and lost itself in that limitless gaze.

“They love calling you a monster, don’t they?”

What she said were simple English words, but they were strung together much more eloquently than a girl her age should be able to. Furthermore, her voice seemed to have some ethereal quality; it reverberated in the air around me, and I could have sworn there was a faint hum accompanying each and every word. She felt….magical.

The girl smiled, her pink lips parting to reveal pearly white teeth. But....something seemed off. Her smile was a little too wide. I blinked, but....yeah, her smile was just wide enough to look a little....scary. Scary, but somehow sweet at the same time. I didn't know how she did it. Who the hell was she?

"Why not show them how much of a monster you can be?"

With that, her hand shook. I could see no tangible change on the outside; yet I could feel energy surging through her hand, like electricity, causing my arm to tremble and tingle.

No. Not energy. It was....rage. Pure, unhindered rage, at being bullied, for the wrong reasons, for a long time. A fury that I had kept locked down beneath layers of apathy and self-loath, but was now released. A huge oil well that came into contact with a spark. A spark that the little girl gave me.

I didn't know who she was, or what she was. But she set me free. She set me ablaze.

"Thank you."

I strode up the slope, dragging the shovel behind me. They were afraid now - I could see it in their body language, the uncertainty, the one foot placed back, not sure whether to bolt or to intimidate me - but none of it matters now.

A stone came flying my way. I sent it back with a powerful swing of the shovel. I heard the smack of stone against flesh - a sound that I would have found sickening normally, but now sounded like music to my ears.

There were screams, and shouts. Some started running. That was my cue, to start charging too.

Time to put these horns to good use.

[laseroy89]

Party at Burns Manor

A response to [WP] You wake up in the morning to a letter. You don't know who it's from but it invites you to the old mansion on the hill for dinner. Problem is, nobody has lived there for a 100 years.

  “An Invitation to Dinner.” I read aloud. “Join us for a party today, Mr Jon Tager!! We look forward to your presence at Burns Manor!!”

I scratched my head. Was this a joke?

Burns Manor stood on the hill near my house, overlooking the entire town from its lofty position. Anyone could see that it used to be a grand, beautiful mansion, probably for some upper-class rich guy decades ago, but it was now a shell of its former glory. From far, one could see that its walls were covered in vines and blackened by mould, and some parts had so many cracks they looked like they were about to cave in. Tiles had started dropping from the roof and most window frames were crooked.

When I was a child, my friends and I used to go on “ghost hunting expeditions” at the Manor. Of course, we hadn’t really ventured into the grounds, but tiptoed outside the fence, too afraid to step in. We’d dare each other to enter, but knew deep down none of us had the balls to do so.

From what I could remember, the yard was full of overgrown vegetation, grasses as tall as my younger self, a few white flowers that looked ominous in the dim moonlight, and a shrivelled up tree. The fences had sharp metal spikes looming high above us, and - there was barbed and concertina wire on the top. We could see inside the house through the many open windows, and….the wallpaper was peeling, and there weren’t any furniture.

It looked really frightening.

And now, as an adult, I received an invitation to go there for dinner.

It must be an elaborate joke. Burns Manor had been abandoned for, I don’t know, a hundred years? The previous owners sold it….wait, I didn't really know about who owns the house. I didn’t stick my nose into things like this. But I could confirm that I have never seen anyone maintain the house.

But then again, I….I lost all contact with most of those who accompanied me on those trips. They either worked or studied in the neighbouring cities or even countries. I was the only one left of that clique, over here working my ass off, trying to get out of this town by saving up for university. I will make it, and I will catch up with the rest of them.

Maybe….maybe this was their idea of surprising me? After all these years?

It sounded impossible for those who had moved ahead with their lives to come back and visit someone like me, but then….that was the only plausible explanation.

That was touching. Well, abandoned place or not, I’m in. I’m coming, boys.

It looked the same as always, though I felt none of the fear I felt when I was younger. It was just cold and desolated. If houses had feelings, then….Burns Manor was sad and lonely at being left behind in time, and longed desperately to return to the fun and fulfilling times it had long, long ago. Though that wasn’t possible. Sad.

It’s okay, I’m about to have the time of my life with my lads from days past.

I couldn't see them yet, but....they must be hiding inside. Haha, lols. I'm gonna getcha, boys!!

I held the invitation in my lips and clambered over the leaning gates, the hinges groaning as I put my weight on the metal.

Argh, gotta watch my step on this slippery cobblestones. Don't wanna fall and sprain something, then have to continue the reunion in the hospital. Haha.

I pushed the rotting door open....and it fell with a loud bang, just a few centimetres away from my right foot. Well, that was close.

It was as we saw it those few years ago....empty rooms devoid of furniture and full of peeling wallpaper....and batshit. And mildew. Hardly a welcoming scene. I walked on, trying not to step on those piles of batshit, and trying as hard as I could to stay quiet as well. I was gonna surprise them....heh.

Was that a light down the corridor?

I approached, my pace picking up in excitement.

There was a staircase, leading down. Into a basement, perhaps. The light glowed even brighter, and....I swore that was the latest EDM track.

They really were here!!!

I galloped down the stairs in a cacophony of loud footsteps and creaking. As I approached, the bass got deeper and louder, until it drowned out everything.

With a mighty thrust of my leg, I kicked the door open.

"HEY FELLAS!!! HAVEN'T SEEN YA FOR A LONG TIME!!!"

They all turned around to face me, and they....they cheered!! Couldn't really hear them over the loud music, but....they looked like they were mouthing my name!! Damn, this was a nice surprise.

He handed me a drink. I gulped it down, and reached for another. He gave it to me again. And again. And again.

We danced, and danced. Hugged each other. Played ping pong. Threw stuff at each other.

We went crazy. It had been a long time since we've seen each other, and we were determined to make it last.

He went to open the door....and girls came streaming in. Oh shit, they really had it all planned out....

This is the best night of my life.

I opened my eyes, to find the sun shining directly at me. Immediately, I shielded my face, and got up gingerly.

I was lying on the cold, dusty floorboard, on the....ground floor. With a pile of batshit a few centimetres away from my head.

Shit, where were they? They couldn't just leave me behind, could they?

Man. They were always so busy with their work, their lives, can't seem to take the time off to accompany me.

Well, last night was fun. Though....can't really find where we had the party.

Huh. I still got the invitation in my hand. Lol. Though my vision was still quite blur....couldn't really make out what it was.

Whatever, I need to go back home. Burns Manor....just seemed to be trying too hard to return to its more fun and fulfilling past.

[laseroy89]

Poltergeist Deal

A response to [WP] You live in a haunted house with a poltergeist that loves to mess with you via playing with the utilities (flickering lights, gas turning on, TV turning itself on, etc...),you have made peace with it but as a result the utilities are getting too expensive & you need to sort this out.

The television flickered, and the screen froze. I found myself staring at Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson putting his fingers in Pedro Pascal’s eye sockets.

I sighed. She was at it again.

I grabbed a handful of strawberry candy, flung it at the television screen, and closed my eyes. I heard a faint giggle, but I never heard the sweets hit anything. After a while, I heard the crinkling of plastic wrappers, and soon the Viper’s screams filled the living room again.

She just had to stop the episode at the bloodiest part - and make me miss it. Screw you, kid ghost, for always messing with me.

It was quite annoying, but she wasn’t this mild when we first met. I still remembered how she went on the offensive on the day that I moved in. I didn’t have much possessions, but that kid ghost had enough imagination to make everything a weapon.

Somehow, every time I turned around, some furniture seemed to have moved a few centimetres. I hit my little toes of both feet so many times, I thought the nails would have become ingrown at the end of the day. Then, crockery that I placed in the centre of tables would appear dangerously close to the edge. Next, bags would empty their contents on the floor when I wasn’t looking. With so many things falling on the floor and so many threats against my feet, I should have foreseen her final move when my steel Batman paperweight about the size of my fist slid across the table and dropped down….on my big toe. There was a lot of screaming, a lot of time and money spent to get myself to the hospital….and also a lot of faint giggling in the living room while I was enveloped in excruciating pain.

But hey, the house was cheap though.

That was just the beginning. There was once when I returned home drunk with a female friend. Being intoxicated, my mind was filled with thoughts about my companion, so I had forgotten about the ghost and her antics. I also forgot that earlier in the day, I had bought two cartons of raw meat, for a barbecue with my friends the following day.

We were chatting on the couch, inching closer to each other. Things were going well, and I thought I was getting lucky when she leaned in for a kiss. Just before I closed my eyes and sank into the moment, I caught a fleeting glance of a large red patch above both of us. It was like that movie "Carrie", only thing was that it wasn't just pig blood, it was really expensive, high-end meat that cost around....I don't really remember the size of the hole that it burnt in my pocket, I just remembered how heartbroken I was.

Needless to say, she left my apartment with my meat on her face. And she left my apartment and my plans for the barbecue in a huge, bloody mess.

The turning point came when I came home after a tiring day of overtime. I was simply too exhausted to do anything else but sleep, and the first thing I did upon entering my house was to head right to my bedroom and collapse on the bed.

She had hidden small little thumbtacks in the sheets.

I jumped up, screaming and cursing, and threw my bag across the room. It hit the opposite wall and burst open to spill my supply of strawberry candy all over the floor.

I had been crying and begging on the floor, wondering why the world has forsaken me, but I quietened down when I realised that her normally faint giggling had stopped and the pain had subsided. No, not subsided, but completely disappeared. In fact, the thumbtacks had been removed from my face and hands, and the wounds had closen up. And my sweets had vanished, leaving behind only plastic wrappers strewn all over the floor.

From then on, sweets became my way of making a deal with her. I began to invest in sweets, most notably strawberry candies, not only as a way of relieving my own stress, but to pay her whenever I noticed she wanted to harm me. Pretty soon, she got less violent, till she only annoyed me just enough to get her daily fix of sweets. Maybe turning on the television when I was asleep, turning on the gas when I just turned it off, flickering lights when I was trying to sleep, stuff like that.

I always had the impression that poltergeists were either pure evil or just some bored spirits that ruined people's lives just for the heck of it. I didn't know that they could be bought over too.

But with the costs of utilities rising....her behaviour wasn't that harmless anymore. With the current stagnating economy, I had been living from paycheck to paycheck for quite a while now, and while the rent was still manageable, the increasing utilities bill was taking quite a toll on my finances.

I heard a faint whir to my side. Aaaand my desktop was booting up again.

"Look, kiddo, you've got to stop doing that, alright?" I couldn't take it anymore.

The whirring of the CPU fan stopped, but the monitor still showed my homescreen. The LED at the side started flashing rapidly. When it was functioning normally, it would have shown either green or orange, but right now it was flashing red. BLOOD RED.

She was angry.

But I was angry, too.

The show had ended, but the television screen started flashing, almost as rapidly as the LED light of my computer. I kept my stern expression on. I wasn't about to give way this time.

"You've got to stop doing all these ANNOYING SHIT!!"

The screen cut to static, then the speakers gave out a sharp shriek that forced me to lose composure for a while and cover my ears. Oberyn Martell's crushed skull started flashing on the screen. It was in high contrast, such that the blood appeared thick, black and sinister. And she kept distorting the eyes. Or rather, where the eyes used to be.

I smiled. She was getting nowhere with this.

But I was a little scared too. She was holding back; but what's to stop her from wreaking total havoc?

I needed to calm down. To approach it as a rational adult, explaining to a young child.

Yup. I needed to use soft power.

"Look, my bills are rising because of you. I have less to spend now. You wouldn't want me to starve and die, would you?"

Harsh laughter filled the apartment. My phone unlocked itself, and opened Whatsapp. She started typing cheeky and tearful emojis. Then a middle finger.

"Look, if I die or get evicted, you'll have no more strawberry sweets!!"

In a flash, all paranormal activity stopped. The monitor died, the television shut down and fell silent, and my phone deleted the draft text and went back to the homescreen. I picked my phone up and examined it; shit, she ended all the recent apps too. What a good girl.

I grabbed another handful of sweets, and flung it into the air. As expected, they never hit the ground.

This has been the best trade deal in the history of trade deals, maybe ever. Strawberry candies FTW. I love ya, you silly little poltergeist.

Now I wonder if I can pay her to redirect some of my neighbours' utilities to me....

[laseroy89]

The Rain

A response to [WP] Once every year, a random thing rains across Earth's surface for a day. Humans prepare for this year's Rain, remembering previous years when things such as olive oil and bowling balls have littered the streets.

It has always been like this. Ever since I was born. Ever since my momma was born. Ever since….forever.

It has always happened on the 7th. Always the 7th, of the month November. I didn’t know why, or how. No one knew why, or how. Everyone just knew it would happen, and braced themselves for the inevitability of the unexpected. Then….it would happen.

It wasn’t that bad last year. It was olive oil, then. The gutters and streets ran slick with the oil, and every surface was bathed in an oily sheen. I remembered my whole family laughing as we watched the liquid fall from the sky - from the safety of the living room, of course; no one wanted to risk staining their clothes. My dad then put several large buckets out in the front yard, to harvest the rain - it was free food, after all. We collected so much that we had no need to visit the market for any oil for three months.

It did have some undesirable consequences. We couldn’t venture out without ruining our clothes, so we were confined in our home for the entirety of the day. The smell was okay at first, even found it aromatic, but after an entire morning of sniffing the same smell….you tend to get sick of it then, and our entire family spent the rest of the day in an air-conditioned room. In busier parts of the city, such as the central business district, where life went on as per normal, there were more cases of injuries due to slipping and falling. Traffic on the roads had to slow down drastically due to decreased traction, and all planes were grounded, stranding thousands of travellers across the world. Too bad for them, they didn’t exactly prepare for the Rain during their trip. The decrease in emissions was probably good for the environment, but as for other aspects….let’s just say the trees and grasses at the roadside suffered quite a lot. Luckily, the authorities had the foresight to shelter ponds and streams - but for larger water bodies, like the nearby Lake Hegar, well….the aquatic life didn’t fare so well when they were starved of oxygen as the oil prevented any atmospheric gases from dissolving in the water.

Well, could have been worse, right?

At least it wasn’t like the Bowling Ball Rain of 1998, before I was born. My papa talked about it a lot, in order to teach us children always to prepare for the worst when it Rains. The Rains had been rather kind in the 1990s, showering the earth in grass, dandelions, leaves, and in 1992, wine. Yeah, 1992 must have been a great year. As a result, most people became complacent, not expecting anything harsh on the day of the Rain.

Oh, how wrong they were.

When the first bowling balls fell, the people looked up at the sky in surprise. My dad always told the story vividly as if it just happened yesterday, because he had been out with his friends that day, waiting for the Rain to bestow some gifts upon them. He probably thought that he would be showered with wine again. After all, they were but naive teenagers.

However, he was greeted with the sight of his friend, Uncle Jimmy, getting his foot crushed by a 13 pound bowling ball.

The balls wreaked havoc that day, pummelling civilisation into submission. Cars were crushed, windows broken, buildings damaged, and the hospitals overflowed with the injured. My dad and his group of friends had carried Uncle Jimmy to the hospital, as the ambulances couldn’t drive out under the onslaught. Instead, the army had to be mobilised to drive their armoured personnel carriers out to ferry the wounded, and waiting that long for transport simply wasn’t an option for Jimmy. Luckily, he was treated before….before the Ball Rain broke power lines and water pipes, plunging all infrastructure all over the world in a state of disarray.

Today, whenever Uncle Jimmy visited, my eyes couldn’t resist straying to the space where his foot was supposed to be. It served as proof to an otherwise distant disaster that happened before I was born.

Well, could have been worse, right?

I was a history nerd, and after watching my first Rain (petals, luckily), I was intrigued and went to read up on the history of the Rains. I learnt much, all the way back to the first Rains recorded. There was once a Rain of Porcupines in the 1600s, which decimated the world population then - in the known world at least. Then there was a Rain of Logs, which must have been great for biodiversity, but in the populated areas, not so good for population density. Or very good, depends on how you look at it. Oh, and how could I forget the Rain of Cars in 1960? It must have been like the Ball Rain, just....on a much larger and more destructive scale.

"Lance, come!!"

I hurried to the window at my papa's call.

"You have better eyesight than me. Look up, and tell me what is coming down."

I chuckled softly at the sight of my papa putting on his glasses, then turned my gaze upwards.

My blood ran cold at the familiar shape. Oh no. Oh no.

It crashed down on the road with a deafening smack that sounded just like flesh hitting tarmac.

Another came down, but didn't suffer the same abrupt end. It tumbled into the small branches at the top of the tree in the front yard, and fell from branch to branch, giving out surprised yelps at the same time, before landing in the heap of dead leaves that I had swept up earlier. It poked its head out warily, surveying its surroundings with an apprehensive expression on its face.

Papa took off his glasses.

"It's raining....men." He covered my eyes with his hands and turned my head away from the window. "Don't look, Lance. It's gonna get....gonna get graphic." He muttered a prayer softly.

But I pushed his hand away, and turned back outside. There were more falling now, and some good Samaritans had started braving the Rain, laying out mattresses, blankets, boxes, anything to cushion their impact. There were more survivors now, and....I loved looking at them. I grabbed some cushions from the nearby sofa.

"No, Papa." I grinned as I turned the door knob and prepared to run out. "It's raining women."

[laseroy89]

Emergency at Home

A response to [WP] Your driveway is inundated with police cars and fire trucks. You run towards the entrance. A fireman stops you. "Sir, I can't let you go in without this." He hands you a hazmat suit.

The very first sign that something was wrong was the row of five police cars whizzing past me, their blaring sirens drowning out the music from my earphones. I plucked out my earbuds in annoyance. Why couldn’t I enjoy my music in peace, on my way home from school?

I have had a rough day. I didn’t exactly pass my exams with flying colours, and my dad was visiting me today. Knowing my dad’s high expectations, I didn’t think he would be very happy at the sight of my result slip.

I was more than ready to insert my earbuds back into my ears and immerse myself in emo music again, but….somehow the sirens never ceased. That was puzzling - the police had sped past me into the distance, so they should be very, very far away right now. However, I could still hear the sirens from the direction of my home, and….there seemed to be more sirens now.

Damn. Something interesting must have happened nearby. I hurried towards the din, desperate for anything to take my mind off my dismal academic results.

It wasn’t hard navigating the way to the noise, as it was almost identical to the road to my house. It must be pretty close to my home - if it persisted until my father reached home, it might distract him enough to forget asking me about my results. I walked along the familiar pavements, jumped over the same low hedges and passed the same few houses,and when I rounded the corner….

Ah. Shit.

The driveway to my home was filled with emergency response vehicles. I recognised the five police cars from just now; they seemed to be back-up, as there were a few others at the scene. There were two fire trucks, along with two smaller fire response vehicles and….a HAZMAT vehicle?! Shit, what was happening in my house to warrant such a large-scale response?

I hurried to my driveway, looking around. I could see my neighbours peering at the commotion from slits in their curtains; they closed the curtains when they saw me look at them.

As I neared my yard, I could make out dark patches of burnt grass, shaped like….pawprints. My heart sank. I think I knew what happened. Goddammit.

“Hey, er….I live here.”

“Sir, I can’t let you go in without this.”

The fireman at the door handed me a white HAZMAT suit. His face was pale, and his hand trembled as I took the suit from him.

Really? You just hand a random teenager in a school uniform a HAZMAT suit when he walks up and claims that he lives in the house?

I guess....he got a little too traumatised by the shit he saw inside. Shit that I had to deal with.

Yup, as much as I expected. The living room was crammed with people in uniform. Police, with their weapons raised, but hiding behind walls; firefighters, standing ready with their hoses and extinguishers; and a HAZMAT team, clad in their suits, brandishing long poles.

All facing the mess in the centre.

The moment he saw me, Cerberus sat down in a flaming pool of green slime. His serpent tail thumped the floor happily; the snake heads of his mane stopped hissing, welcoming me with respectful silence. His red eyes stopped blazing like red coals, and took on a milder yellow. I sighed, and looked around at the mess he caused. There were pools of water and piles of white powder all over the floor. The living room carpet and the wooden floor underneath were eaten away by the acid Cerberus secreted. The sofa had collapsed into a blackened heap.

This was....gonna be expensive.

He always assumed his true form whenever Father was coming to visit. Only difference was that he somehow got out the front door and frightened the neighbours, leading to what we had right now.

I'll need to take precautions the next time Hades comes back.

[laseroy89]

Doppelgänger Dust

A response to [WP] They say those who see their doppelgänger see death. One day, you come across your own double— and they suddenly turn to dust.

“They say those who see their doppelgänger see death.” Lucy mused. “You know, it sounds so unbelievable, but take a moment and think of the chaos that will break out in the world.”

“Mmmhmm.” I mumbled in response, my attention turning to the figure on the other side of the road. Damn. Even from far, I could see that she looked good. What a pair of tight jeans, and what a fantastic top. It hung loosely over her petite frame, accentuating her slight figure. It revealed just the top of her shoulders, and exposed her bare midriff. Damn-

“What the hell?!” My right shoulder stung as she punched it. Hard. “Hey, what did I do wrong, man?”

“Were you even listening to me?” Lucy thrusted her face into mine, eyes blazing with annoyance. “I was asking if you believed.”

“Yeah, I believe.” I rubbed my shoulder, and kept my gaze focused on the smooth skin of her nose, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Believe what?”

“I believe, er….I believe….” I scratched my head, unable to recall what she had been talking about. I decided to take the safe route. “I believe you’re really pretty.”

She slapped me again, although lighter this time. She still gave me an annoyed scowl, although this time she was blushing slightly. I gave her a sheepish smile.

Oh Lucy. We weren't what they always liked to call "a thing" yet, but we did go out together quite often. She was good company - we had many similar interests and well, it was nice to have an attractive member of the opposite sex beside me. Only thing was she sometimes went off-tangent when we chatted, and it would gradually turn into a monologue from her.  It was soothing to listen to her 'scratchy' voice, which I admit was indeed quite, er, sexy, but my mind would wander to other things. Then she gets kind of violent.

Well, it was my fault actually - I was checking out that other girl. But hey, she's technically not my girlfriend, so I had no obligations, right? Not yet, anyway.

Where was that girl again?

I glanced sideways. Lucy was still walking silently, arms folded, with disappointed pout. I grinned....and let my eyes wander again. Let me appreciate the other fishes in the sea before I give up my freedom, right?

Where was that girl?

I scanned the opposite side of the street, only to find....nothing. Dammit. I turned my focus back on the road in front of me.

A loud piercing scream rang out in the relative silence. We both jumped in surprise, Lucy instinctively grabbing my arm.

It was that girl. I would have been relieved to find the target of my affections again, but....she was sprawled on the floor.

A man had pushed her down, and was running away.

"THIEF!! THIEF!! THAT MAN STOLE MY PURSE, SOMEBODY CATCH HIM!!"

Lucy nodded to me, and I ran across the road.

As I approached the fallen woman, I let my gaze linger on her. Shit, she looked even better close up. Dem tight jeans, dat off-shoulder top. Too bad her beautiful brown hair strewn all over her face, so I couldn't make out most of her features.

"Don't worry, Miss!!" I said to her as I ran past her. Her eyes widened as she saw my face.

Once I passed her, I turned my focus back on the fleeing man. Shit, he had already turned round the corner.

Looks like he knows this area, an advantage he had over me. Well, I was in the school track team, so I got that going for me, which was nice.

He turned round another corner. Ah, shit. He's fast, too. Well, I couldn't return empty-handed to that beautiful lass. I have to return a HERO.......

He vaulted over a fire hydrant. Aw, come on. He knows parkour too?

He turned round another corner, and disappeared from my sight. But I heard a satisfying crunch of flesh against stone.

I slowed down as I rounded the corner, and there he was, sprawled face-down on the pavement. I heaved a sigh of relief. This made it much easier.

I sat on his back, ignoring his groans of pain as I wrestled his hands behind his back. "Well come on, where's the purse?"

"In my....in my front pocket." He definitely had the wind knocked out of him.

Weird. I could have sworn that voice came out of my mouth. It sounded so alike - the same pitch, the same....

"You have a sexy voice, you know that? Might work out well in the prison where you'll be going, might seduce a few inmates...." I couldn't resist a dig at him as I rummaged in his pocket and took out the purse.

He stopped moving and groaning, and turned back to look at me.

What the hell.

The same brown eyes, filled with shock. The same sharp nose, with just a stray nose hair sticking out of the left nostril. The same hairstyle, with a cowlick at the top right. The same acne scars, identical in size and shape, just below the right cheekbone.

He looked just like me. "Huh, fancy meeting a doppelgänger, eh?"

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!" For some reason he made a huge fuss out of it. In a feat of immense strength, he wrenched his hands out of my grasp and literally threw me against the wall. I crumpled to the ground, clutching my lower back.

"No, no, no...." he kept on muttering as he tried to stand up, but collapsed to the floor.

"What....what the hell man?!" This time it was me who was out of breath.

He tried to crawl away, but....the most bizarre thing happened.

It started with his legs. From what I could see through his torn jeans, his skin started turning grey. It spread throughout his body, with wrinkles and - cracks? - appearing.

Then he started imploding. Ever watched Guardians of the Galaxy 2, where Ego disintegrated in the hands of Peter Quill? Yeah, it looked just like that - just that it was infinitely more horrifying, watching a real-life human crumble into nothing but a pile of....grey dust in front of my eyes.

I walked over to the pile of dust, lost for words. I reached into the pile, and lifted my hand, watching what remained of him filter through my fingers. How could that happen to any normal person?

What did Lucy talk about just now? Those who see their doppelgänger....couldn't be true, right?

"Yeah, that's the man who stole my purse."

I swivelled round immediately. It was the girl, this time with two police officers. They started walking towards me, baton in one hand, handcuffs in the other.

No, no, no....

But what else could I say?