Drunk Clothing Choices

I woke up with a thousand points of pain across my head, but since none of them were tangible, I must have been hungover.

Correction, none but one. There was a pinprick in the back of my head that felt different, and as I rubbed my head I came back with a badge, a demon in acrylic looking back at me.

Put a pin in my head and I'd hazard a guess it was from an anime, although physically it was from the stranger I had been sleeping on.

Considering the metal studs on my jacket, I got off light.

Cosmic Entanglement

As we sat around the holofire, Redeae asked the newbie his favorite question.

"So why ya 'ere?"

The newbie looked confused.

"It's cold?"

That got a laugh.

"Not 'ere by the fire, dumbass, why you out 'ere in the middle of nowhere mining asteroids for our 'benevolent overlords?"

The newbie pulled out a pendant from under his suit, a clear sphere with something inside it.

"What's dat?"

"A paired mega-atom. My husband back home has the entangled pair, so we're always connected, it spins with our love, as it remains near us."

"But it ain't moving."

The newbie's face fell.

The Lonely Dragon

Once upon a time there was a Dragon. The Dragon was so lonely, his parents had been gone for so long. So he decided to find a friend.

But whenever he went near any settlement, there was yelling and arrows and spells. He was about to give up when a Witch transported to his cave.

The Witch needed someone to guard a Princess while the Witch got what she wanted from the King. The Dragon agreed.

The Witch was gone for a while, the King was stubborn. But when she returned, the Princess asked her Friend to eat the Witch.

Weregbeast

It was one line, written in the margins of a record book of the Monastery in the mountains. A note by the recordkeeper, to bring up the idea of using Holy Silver on the 'weregbeast'.

An old term for an unholy creature who returned every century to terrorise the countryside and butcher anyone and everyone it found.

The solution, sitting there, waiting to be rediscovered. There was no indication where the recordkeeper got the idea, but if it could have saved lives, who would really care?

Thankfully this century when it turned up, it fared badly against bullets, but still.

Silent Partner

She was the last thing on my mind for so long. I had so much work to do, so many appointments, hands to shake, butts to kiss, ladders to climb. And she was so loving, so understanding, so kind, I tended to ignore her, to assume she would always be there for me.

And then she wasn't.

And the realisation of what I had lost made everything else meaningless. I drank, I stopped caring, I gave up.

And then I rolled my sedan on the interstate, drunk and high, crushing myself fatally.

She was the last thing on my mind.

Message From A Time Traveller

I can't tell you how this ends.

Not because of temporal paradoxes, that was the first test done once we thought we had time travel sorted, to our discredit since if could have ended everything. But it didn't, so I'm not worried about that.

Nor am I bound by causality, thanks to the dampners built into my machine. And no, I can't tell you how they work, I've got no idea.

No, the simple fact is, I can't tell you how this ends because I had no knowledge of this time.

I may have gone back further than I thought.

The Powder Blow

The Lost Traceback, The Knifeedge Twist, The Dead Songbird, I'd swung most of the classic swindles in my time, although I made it a point to try and come up with a new take on them, which was usually needed with the internet on every phone.

But then I met her. And suddenly we could work so many more of the classics, The Black Ring, The Honey Bubble, The Vodka Rope.

I kept one eye on her for a sign of her pulling the Shark Turn, but she eventually just shot and robbed me.

So disappointing. No art to it.

Outside The Scene

I'm waiting for her here. She said she'd meet me here when she was done. She sometimes is late, but she always keeps her word.

I guess she's been later than this at some point, but I don't remember when, exactly.

But all these ambulances and police and such heading past me must be holding her up. Something must be happening and the sidewalk is blocked. Must be it.

She'll be here. Any moment now.

Yep.

No, that's not her, she's not a policewoman, don't be silly.

What?

No, I'm waiting here for...

Yes, that's her. Where is she?

Oh.

Wishing Cause Coin

Most magical items in the lands were cursed, usually in ironic ways. The Shield of Protection caused you to murder who you wished to keep safe, the Eyeglass of Seeing made you blind.

But the Wishing Coin wasn't cursed, not exactly. You flipped the coin while wishing out loud, in a specific way, and you wouldn't get the wish you asked for, but rather you'd get the cause of the wish dealt with.

Usually this took the form of the emotional pain just vanishing, leaving people aimless, catatonic.

Up until someone wished because of the lack of a standing army.

Black Hole Death

I missed the last shuttle off the ship by a few seconds. Even as I slammed my fists on the transparent steel, I knew I was dead, it just came down to how I'd go out.

I deliberately avoided any readout of how close the black hole was, and instead I lived like a Corp Leader. I unlocked the food dispensers, I reprogrammed the AI to be more sexy, i went uniformless  until the inevitable called.

And now, I die.

Any minute now.

Yep.

Huh, time dilation kicking in.

Oh, a rescue ship to save me.

I better stop it.

Chocolate Fish

The two of them looked into each other's eyes across two beer kegs and an empty chocolate fountain.

The stare lasted four seconds.

In that time one of them was sure that they'd just found their soulmate, the other thought that it might be a fun night.

They circled the party for a bit before they met over the host's fish tank.

They both knew it was serious when they bought a pet fish together ten months later.

They both grew to resent the other.

The relationship lasted four years.

A drunken argument over chocolate is what broke them up.

Small Time Telegram Office

I had five drawers for telegram chits.

The big one on my left had the white chits. I kept it open, as most of the telegrams didn't need another color.

The blue ones were in the drawer above. Every few hours there was a telegram about the stock exchange and price of oil and such, they were stuck up on the board.

The pink ones up top were for those telegrams marked with the LUV designation.

The green ones on my right were for company business.

The red chits are for military deaths.

So I need lots of red ones.

A Question

If a tree falls in the forest, and no-one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

It's an old question, designed to open your mind to questioning the nature of reality,  what is sound, is it in the eye, or rather ear, of the beholder, or is it the thing making the waves of energy that are converted into sound the thing that makes noise and thus doesn't require an audience? What is sound?

But to be honest, the question is fatally flawed.

There's always someone to hear it.

Or something at least.

Just out of reach...

Lowest Point

I never found out what it was called, but this cheesy made-for-TV movie I saw while I was home sick from school really stuck with me. The lead actress, at the end as she was in the arms of her true love, said that sometimes you have to get to your lowest point before you find the person who'll raise you up.

So the night I was dumped, broke, and sitting dejected in the gutter, and I met him, I thought it was fate.

And it was, in a way, as a few years later I met his divorce lawyer.

Important Souls

The universe actively doesn't care about you.

And that's not because it lacks the ability to care, it cares deeply about many things, all of them revolving around its life cycle. The specifics of the laws of physics and gravity and such inside it are important and monitored.

But life, people? There are only three souls that matter to the universe.

The leftover soul that was the sole survivor of the last universe.
The soul that is destined to survive into the next universe.
And Driox Eutob, of Anzurt 6, the greatest soul singer ever.

It can have musical tastes!

Lock And Loaded

I wasn't trying to develop time travel technology, at least not the 88 miles per hour in a flashy car type that most people know of. I was trying to work out how to temporal lock things, mainly food and drugs. Removing the need for conventional refrigeration would save so much energy and help so many people.

But I accidently inverted the semi-tachyon flow and I locked myself for about fifty years.

Now, on one hand, with some refinement, this is an amazing achievement in human history.

But more importantly humanity pretty much is history now, so overall not good.

Balance In All Things

I stepped out into my yard to get a Elfmelon off my vine for breakfast and almost tripped over him. He looked like he must have been a hundred cycles old, but when I coughed he sprung to his feet like an acrobat.

"Forgive, no coin for bed. Balance in life."

He bowed to me, and went to leave. I called out to him, I was raised right, so I offered him some Elfmelons and coins.

In tears, he took them, then picked up a stone and attacked me.

I heard something about deeds and balance before I blacked out.

Handheld

We held hands before we met, the tour guide instructing us to walk in pairs across the bridge. We laughed it off.

The next time we held hands was on our first actual date, after weeks of chatting online post-tour, a virtual date over shared Netflix watching, and a slightly too large Italian meal. We touched hands and then burped together loudly.

We must have held hands a million times after that, from the wedding aisle to just helping her up.

And now I'm holding it for the last time.

I wish we could cross this bridge as a pair.

Looped

So I've been stuck in this 15.4 minute period for probably ten years. Long enough to have counted the seconds between flashes.

In that time, I've tried everything I could think of to break the cycle. I've done my best to murder all the enemy combatants in the other trench, I've done my best to save everyone in my trench. I've swapped those goals too. I've done nothing, I've done everything, I've died every way I know how.

Nothing has worked.

So, all I've got left is to get someone else looping too.

I've guessed telling you may do it.

Claimed By Flame

The fire that claimed the city started east of the river, and then the wind helped.

The fire that claimed Eastside started in the low-rent residential neighbourhood, and then the chemical factory helped.

The fire that claimed the neighbourhood started in 157 South Gold Street, and then 159 helped.

The fire that claimed 157 South Gold Street started in the bedroom of Rachel Snow, and then the bookcases helped.

The fire that claimed Rachel Snow's life started behind her eyes, it started as a fire in her mind, her soul.

The one she started helped her by ending the pain.

Hot Hand

"Deal."

That was all the greeting I got. Sure, her getting into the room where the cards were being dealt proved she belonged there, but I was still used to a little more respect.

Still, I did my job, and dealt.

The following two hours remains, even now, the most amazing spectacle I've ever seen. She read everyone like a large print book, and if I wasn't dealing I'd swear she must have been rigging the deck.

When she went to leave, she saw my face and my vain attempts to express my newfound love for her. Her response?

"Deal."

Swords And Scabbards

The Magistrate peered over its glasses.

"Ah, a human! We so rarely get one of your kind before the court. Most of them don't fulfill their true purpose."

The Barbarian, who had been struggling against his restraints, finally paused and considered his surroundings.

"Oh. That Giant Cave Spider did hit me."

"Yes."

"And I died."

"Afraid so."

"And now I'm being judged against my true purpose? I fought against Evil as much as-"

The Magistrate burst out laughing.

"You humans were made as breeding stock! Why else would there be do many half-breeds? But you bred often, so you're accepted."

Easy Money

The Multiverse Agent had made contact with local resources.

The Agent was confused when they saw a display for lottery tickets in a storefront.

"Wait, you have time travel tech, right?"

"Yes, there's a booth down the street, individuals can go back 8 to 24 hours, for free of course."

"But you still have chance jackpot lotteries?"

"Fluctuations in reality mean results change every time you-"

"But you can just keep trying the same numbers till they work, can't you?"

The subsequent mass upswing in looping led to a cascade collapse of all connected universes, completing the Agent's orders efficiently.

Boomeranged

The Humans called them Boomerangs, after an ancient weapon of their planet that was the same rough shape as the drones, and like the Drones they moved in long circular loops.

But this led the Humans to assume that they were like their weapons, that their launch point has to be somewhere on the loop. They ignored the older races' repeated explanation that they'd existed for aeons, and they searched for their origins.

This direct led to the return of the Ancient Evil that destroyed every trace of their people.

They'd call that ironic, if any of them still existed.

Serving Sounds

Footsteps confidently striding along a gravel walkway.

A slightly off-tune doorbell.

A muffled voice.

Soft footprints on a wooden floor.

A door being pulled ajar.

A suspicious greeting.

A request for confirmation of identity.

The closing of a door, the jangle of a chain lock, the opening of a door, affirmation of identity.

An envelope pulled out of a briefcase.

A long moment of silence.

The envelope changing hands.

Footsteps heading back down the drive.

Tearing of an envelope.

Muttered reading.

Realization of inevitable arrest.

Closure of the door.

Opening of a large bottle of alcohol.

Gulping.

For some time.

No Choice

I made my choice long ago.

I decided to make the choice to get revenge.

So I had to study and train in the arts of violence and murder.

And once I had those skills, I had to use them, or else they would become rusty.

And once I started doing that, there was going to be authorities looking for me, and underworld figures looking to end me.

So I had little time, and little incentive to survive after today.

Thus, telling me I don't have to press the button and kill us all, you're wrong.

I already chose this.

Trench Death

Sniper, on the hill next to the encampment guns of the enemy. Clear shot through the smoking crater from the last pendulum round. Right into his shoulder, taking most of it with it away from his body and into the wall of the trench.

The scream.

The swearing, the dropped rifle, the scramble to pull a mud soaked blanket off the bunk and around the remains of his shoulder.

The whimper.

The exhalations to survive, the lies that it'll be all fine, the shout for a medic.

The hand gripping the other.

The final words.

The death of a lover.

Worms Of Justice

Ever since the first successful mind reading, and the subsequent first successful Darkworm infestation, the law of the Empire was that it was only used after someone was found guilty of a major crime via traditional means, to confirm their guilt before they were executed. That way if their brains were consumed by otherworld Darkworms, it probably didn't matter.

Of course, it was known to the Queen and the High Judges and the Grand Witches that Darkworms were exclusively lured to innocent minds exposed to their sight. But they kept that quiet, saved on compensation to claim they were guilty.

Metaphors Of Levels Of Existance

You see the idea in most forms of storytelling where a human for whatever reason gets to view a higher level of existence. The idea that said level of reality will be viewed by a metaphor, be it a never-ending waiting room or a country club or whatever.

As useful as this idea is for the storytellers who need it, the reality is less neat.

Because you see, the higher levels of existence do not care one iota about your ability, or lack thereof, to comprehend them.

And also the human mind doesn't yet realise just what it can process.

The Silent Guardian's Bet

57 Guardians, 57 numbers.

Whenever a recruit had passed all the tests and was ready to protect America by doing whatever was needed as a Silent Guardian, there was The Bet.

A simple eight digit code to open a safe. Engraved on the safe was "Why We Must Silently Guard". Before you started your first mission, you got one chance to open it and discover the secret. Fail, you write your guess on the wall.

Plenty of dates and codes up there. But I've studied, the founders believed the general populace was stupid.

So, a stupid code?

12345678.

...

Nope.

Darn.

Golden Touch

It was dug up in Shaft 17, nestled in an otherwise healthy gold vein. A hunk of metal, black, slick, not immediately recognizable.

It was sent up in a cart, and taken to the Overseer's office under a sky of grey clouds.

There the scientist on duty carefully subjected it to the normal tests. Then the abnormal tests. And then they called Head Office.

It sat on the desk for a week, the head scientist was on holiday, but they finally turned up as the sky began to clear.

They opened the door, sunlight streaming in, and it woke up.