A new story, and I’m finally back

Hey, long time no see.  I’ve been through a lot of personal stuff as well as trying to finish my degree (about damn time).

Anyway, here’s a writing prompt from reddit about four immortals who prank mortals.


There were four of us. We’d meet every couple hundred years and discuss the pranks we pulled on the mortals. Such good fun the mortals were. So easily susceptible to manipulation. Would we be so simple if we lived less than a century? Barely the blink of an eye, I can’t imagine that being my entire existance.

“Ok, I got a good one,” I said as I sipped my poisonous drink. Since we were immortal, alcohol didn’t even affect us. Cyanide for me, Arsenic for Tom, and Mercury for Bill. John was the sober one. “It kinda built off yours, Bill.”

“Oh?” Bill cocked his head.

“Yeah, remember when you got the primitives to waste precious resources building huge monuments when they could’ve been feeding themselves?”

Bill laughed. “Yeah, those Egyptians were a fun bunch.”

“Well, I got the Americans to think they’re being controlled by them.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. I just leave pictures of pyramids and triangles around, and they just take it from there. So many are convinced there’s some secret society pulling the strings.”

All three of them burst laughing.

“Wait,” Tom said. “So all you had to do was put some pictures around, and they think there’s some society controlling everything?!”

I laughed. “Yep. Just added the pyramid to the dollar bill and it took off.”

John shook his head. “A secret society of mortals. As if they could organize anything. Some of them still think my costume is a real animal, they call it bigfoot.”

“Can’t they tell it’s a costume?” Tom asked.

“Oh, I use an active camoflage to make the area appear out of focus so they never see me clearly.” He showed us a picture, and indeed, you could barely tell it was him. As immortals, we also invented a few things here and there.

“I’ve been sinking ships at the Bermuda Triangle,” Bill said.

“Dude, people have died,” I said. “I love it!”

We all burst into laughter and clinked our drinks together. Except for John. Fucking John.

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Normal Man In A City of Superheroes

A writing prompt I just did.  A normal man grumbles about being in a typical superhero city.


I hate superheroes. There, I said it. It was time for me to get to work, and I could already hear the explosions outside. Something that people that watched the news never understood was that those explosions were human lives. Often dozens at a time.

When I was a teenager, I proudly bought my first car with my own money. Know what happened to it? Some guy in tights picked it up like it was nothing and used it to beat someone down. He was declared a hero. Meanwhile, I had to go through insurance claims. They had the decency to rule it as vandalism. Not that the vandal in question would ever be reprimanded. Nobody even knew who these people were, which was the scariest part. No accountability ever. I’ve seen them kill. Are they ever punished? No. Not that we could punish them. How do you stop a guy who can smash through brick walls like they’re Styrofoam?!

I sipped my coffee as I headed to the elevator. It was time for me to work. Yes, work. What normal people do. What do these people do anyway? The state swears up and down they’re not paid with taxdollars. Which have skyrocketed by the way. No other way for the city to repair itself after these regular battles. What were they fighting over? Shit if I know. The news always hails them as heroes, and always paints the villains. Never do they say what either side was fighting for.

Outside, the air was thick with debris dust. For several blocks, crumbled remains of buildings marked old battlegrounds. Some of them had construction crews. Sights like these had become routine. What the hell happened to us that this carnage is routine?!

Another explosion sounded in the air, and I saw them fighting. They were barely visible. Newscrews below filmed everything. What they’d never report is what happened to these energy blasts that missed. Lives. Dozens of lives.

My own car had been grazed by plasma blasts and dented to unrecognizability. It would be worth nothing now. I drove to work and went to my office. I buried myself in paperwork. It was the only way to get my mind off this insanity.

Ice Cream Horror

Another writing prompt from Reddit. This is actually an idea for a story I plan to write sometime in the future when I’m done with the Almost Night trilogy.


Childhood thrill rushed through me when I heard the familiar tune of the ice cream truck. My head turned in the direction of the sound, and I saw it driving down the street. I imagined the cold cream and chocolate hitting my tongue as I watched it approach. It had been so long since I’d ordered from the ice cream truck. In fact, this was the first time it has come down this road and I’ve lived here years.

My neighbor, Ted, brought his two kids out. They cheered as they rushed to the curb. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. They’ve never been so excited.”

I nodded. “Same here, man. Have you ever seen it pass this street?”

Ted shook his head.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Honestly, I was beginning to wonder if they even existed anymore.”

“Your wife didn’t want any ice cream?”

Ted shook his head. “She’s lactose intolerant.”

“Oh, that’s right.” I nodded to myself as I recalled her telling me. Hot woman, I’d almost hit on her before I found out about Ted. Man, that would’ve been awkward.

As we waited, I thought about calling one of my roommates out. Nah, if they didn’t hear it, that’s their issue.

Tinted windows prevented us from seeing the driver as he slowed to a halt at our curb. We waited for several long seconds. Which started to turn to minutes. He didn’t open the side window like he was supposed to. I turned to Ted. “Dude, is he ever gonna serve us?”

As the words left my mouth, the side window slid aside slowly. I’d expected to see a man standing in the interior of a truck. Instead, it was pitch black. It wasn’t just a dark truck, it just appeared to be an abyss. As I stared curiously at the abyss, high pitched screams sounded behind me. Before I could turn to check on Ted’s kids, something cold gripped me. Laughter and screams sounded in my ears as my body felt weightless. My own screams rang in my ears as immense pain ripped through my entire body. Fear gripped me and blackness enveloped my vision.

***

Dave walked past the empty room in their house. Suddenly, it puzzled him and he made his way to the living room where Steve smoked. “Hey, why don’t we rent out this extra room?”

Steve exhaled smoke and shrugged. “Not sure. Have we ever?”

Dave shook his head. “It’s always been the three of us, and Glen is at work.”

“That’s strange.” Steve scratched his head. “I’ll put an ad in tomorrow.”

***

Susan invited me over for coffee. As we approached her house, I gulped. “Um, you’re not married, are you?”

Susan chuckled. “No, everybody asks me that, but I just live in a large house.”

As we entered, I realized the house wasn’t just large. It was barren. There were rooms with nothing in them. Photos of Susan hung on the walls like family photos. Except, she was by herself. Narcissist? She didn’t seem the type.

“How do you like your coffee?”

I watched her ass as she went into the kitchen. “Black, thanks. So you live here alone?”

“For seven years.”

“Never got lonely?”

“I don’t remember ever being lonely.” The coffee machine made its noise and she came back with two cups of coffee. She gave one to me and sipped one herself.