Drabble: an extremely short work of fiction of exactly one hundred words in length, not including the title. Mathew Sforcina: A guy intending to post one a day as a challenge to himself. You: You. FAQ: Here!
I never understood why she spoke to me at the party, or why she wanted me to have her number at the end of it. I'd have waited till she called me, but my buddy swore she'd kill me if I didn't call first.
I never understood why she wanted to be my girlfriend, or later on my wife. I'd have said no, but my entire family was so in love with her I couldn't say no.
I never understood why she spent her life with me, or her deathbed moments.
And I never understood why I loved her, either.
"So, I want you to try and cast the spell now."
I nodded, and pulled back the too long sleeves on my wizard robe, and spoke the words while moving my hand.
"Parren Gomosh Delonius!"
My sleeve caught on fire, my teacher quickly putting it out.
"Well then, another lesson. Whenever a spell fails, you write down what you did, and what happened."
Confused, I wrote down my mispronunciations.
"Is this in case I discover a new spell?"
"Maybe, but mostly, in future, when you realise how close to death you come with such errors, you'll need a calming activity."
I was reloading my gun when he jumped the bale of hay and had his revolver trained on me.
"End of the line, girlie. Ready to meet your maker?"
I stared at him, just waiting for him to kill me.
"Oh come on, you don't want any final words for your man before I kill him too?"
He wasn't shooting me. He knew better than to give someone a chance like this. I quickly tried to count his shots, got to 6, and lunged at him.
Turns out we'd both miscounted and he did have a bullet left in there.
As an intelligence officer, I managed to get a rep for establishing assets consistently. Most of the time, we don't break into a location and take what we want, we convince someone else who can walk in to bring it to us instead.
My secret was being able to work out what people wanted. Money, revenge, pride, sex, whatever it was they wanted, I could work it out and give them just enough to do what I wanted.
But the problem was, eventually, what someone wants is to betray you.
And spotting that is, unfortunately, a very different skill set.
I sat by his bed as the machines all indicated he was on his way out. For most of the time I was there, he was complaining about missed glory.
How he should have been the one to fly the experimental jet that proved FTL travel was possible, but some random cleaner getting covid led to him getting tested, which led to the false positive, which led to the backup guy getting the glory.
When the machines indicated he was beyond recovery, I explained why the future had depended on the other guy being the pilot.
Then I smothered him.
I didn't expect a reward.
I was told when I came into the industry that there were always gonna be some people you just had to put up with, and others you should avoid when possible. And that, as I was told, you tell others who need to hear it. And support them if and when something occured.
And I did that, for all those who I could, I taught, I warned, I supported.
But it wasn't in pursuit of a reward, of a prize of recognition.
But I did expect those I'd had the back of to have mine.
Dreamtime is a concept that's highly dependent on the society and people involved, and I'm not about to try and explain it with any authority, as I'm not the person to do that.
But as a extremely broad concept, it's a state of existence that links together all people of a culture or group. I think.
I'm not about to try and provide an explanation for it, but I just want to point out that a link, a low level psychic field linking all Australians would explain our ability to instantly and fully support every lie to foreigners when told.
I was born today.
Not like, today today, I'm not a few hours old, obviously, given my communication skills are at least that of a 2 year old.
No, on this day, a surprising number of years ago, I was born.
Now, while some parts of these years have been not great, others have been, and overall I'd rate the experience a solid B- so far.
Of course, that score is hampered by the fact that I've got nothing to compare it to. So, in the interest of fairness, I hearby request another go-round for comparison purposes.
Where's the manager?
Beneath the fan in my room, a hairball rotates slowly around on the floor. It's not a cat style hairball, all spit and fur, but rather a thing like a tumbleweed, made of my own hair that I guess gathered up somewhere behind my chair and escaped somehow, if you'll allow me to anthropomorphise it.
And that does lead to why I don't pick it up and get rid of it. It's inspiring, in a way, as it survives and keeps going despite being so fragile and weak. Really keeps things in perspective.
Besides, no-one else is ever here, anyway.
For a hundred years, the forces of the Demon King and the Supreme Sorceress had battled across the lands, demon and ghost fighting in every way.
But now, finally, the two rulers finally came face to face, as their forces had one last giant conflict across half the world.
The two traded barbs as their spells and incantations popped and fizzled out, until finally the King got a claw through her defences and drew a drop of blood.
"I win!"
"Maybe, but I'm ahead on points still!"
The two reset themselves and awaited the board to reset itself as well.
A hazy memory from his childhood was what drove him to investigate and believe most every conspiracy theory, as he would tell anyone who asked of the man with the needle from his childhood.
He was so sure, no matter what logic or evidence that was presented to him, he stayed firm in his beliefs.
But he still dug and did research, and eventually he pieced together a theory that They were drugging those capable of finding out the truth as children to make them crazy and chasing their own tail.
He wondered what those poor souls must live like.
I poured us both a glass of wine, then I watched her down hers in one long gulp.
"Thirsty?"
She took a deep breath.
"Hoping the liquid courage would help."
My heart sank a little.
"Well, I can assume I know where this conversation is going to go."
"You do?"
"Well, yeah. And look, I'm not happy with it, but if you're set on it, then I won't stand in your way."
She looked at the bottle then back at me.
"I thought you wanted to get married someday?"
I blinked, and then downed my wine in one long gulp.
Professor Magma was prepared, he thought, for the Custodians of Earth to try and stop him from unleashing all the volcanos on Earth at once. When they finally attacked his lair, his Magma sprayers and modified cooling rays kept them at bay for the most part. But they managed to get one of their number through with a concentrated effort, a single figure falling through a small hole in his forcefield.
Professor Magma approached the figure, before he paused in surprise. For it wasn't Glory or Sea Gal or even Blitzkrieg Boy, but it was some young man with a sad face and a gaunt body.
The Professor checked his sensors, but they detected no offensive powers, no technology, just a slightly unusual DNA structure (similar to a Jellyfish?).
"What are you?"
The young man didn't respond verbally until he'd taken a running leap and, to the Professor's confusion, grabbed him in a tight bear hug, that didn't hurt at all.
"Immortal, name's Turri."
There was an ominous creaking sound.
"But also, slightly more importantly, I'm incredibly unlucky."
The platform beneath them broke and plunged them both into the magma below, where the Professor burned.
Turri had a painful wait.
As the train began to pull away from the station, she began to look a little flustered as she held the suitcase in her arms, unable to find somewhere to place it.
After a moment, I sighed and offered to hold it, or to put it between my legs.
As she thanked me for "being such a gentleman" and went to put it down, the woman who'd claimed the last seat spoke in a sharp tone.
"An actual gentleman would get up and give her the seat."
I deliberatly dragged out my getting up on my crutches, I will admit.
I finished the incantation, and almost collapsed from the exertion. As I took some deep breaths, the demoness sighed as she looked at her nails. All six inches of them.
"Seriously? The Merlin Containment? That's literally Anti-Spell 101! I learnt how to combat that back when I was feeding off the anger of sliced golf shots!"
Once I regained my breath, I shrugged.
"So then leave the circle."
She did an admirable job of not showing any emotion as she laughed.
"No, no, I like it here."
I assumed she was captured and that I was safe.
I assumed incorrectly.
Every day I run. Same path, 5 clicks down the path, around the park, through the estate, and back home.
I don't push my body to breaking, but I'm going faster than I used to, but slower than I'm aiming for.
Every so often, someone will ask me how I do it, how I keep the motivation to get up every day and run, rain, hail, or shine.
And every time I tell them it's just habit, and dedication and shit.
Because telling them the real reason, just to spite that one woman who said I couldn't, that sounds silly.
I sat in the central guard room flicking through a three month old current affairs magazine while the newbie stared at the clock.
The millisecond the hour struck, he had his hand on the comm unit.
"We check in with Bay 7 this time, yes?"
I folded a page as a bookmark as I sat up.
"Yeah yeah."
I let him call.
"Bay 7, check in."
"Uh, yeah, all clear. We're good down here."
The newbie flicked off the comm unit, satisfied.
I pressed the alert button, and explained about learning staff quirks like constant excessive swearing as we prepared.
When the howl went up, the rest of the mountain reacted quickly, most creatures hiding as quickly as possible as the ultra-pack began to form.
As all the alphas gathered, there was much gnashing of teeth and growling, as the hierarchy was found.
But after several moments, the two biggest males were still circling and wanting to take charge.
After a few lunges, the two alphas began to circle, restarting their fight.
They then lunged forward again and began to bite and scratch, clawing and mauling until one emerged ultimately triumphant.
And then noticed the pack had long since left.
The lawyer was the only one in the room who wasn't impatient as he read through the will until he finally got to the bit everyone in the family was interested.
"And therefore, I leave my entire fortune to the first person who can both prove they are related to me and whom can get approval from Gareth."
There was a stunned silent before Susan, in her typically too loud voice said "His butler, must be!".
There was a mass rush out the door of everyone else but me and the lawyer.
"Got a form ready, Gareth?" I asked him.
I wasn't going to bother opening my eyes as I walked from my bedroom to the coffee machine, but when I kicked something cloth on route, I opened my eyes, reluctantly.
The bra i had kicked wasn't mine, and the skirt near it wasn't anyone's in the apartment, so I wasn't that surprised when I saw an unfamiliar face in the kitchen.
What I wasn't prepared for was it to be the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
The fact that she was using my last double shot capsule was the only reason I didn't flip sides then and there.
I got three steps away when he fired the gun. It nicked my ear, and I slowly turned around, ignoring the blood dripping down onto my shoulder.
"Where were you aiming?"
He didn't reply, until I took a step.
"Where were you aiming, Boy?"
"A glancing blow."
He said this through chattering teeth, and thus was probably telling the truth. This meant that he was accurate with the gun, and that changed my approach.
"Fine. I'm not leaving. Now what?"
As he considering this, I remembered accuracy didn't mean familiarity, and so I grabbed the gun before he could reload.
We both fought hard against it, but despite all the obvious differences and difficulties that stood between us, Charity and I entered into the relationship as much to try and work out how to remove the mutual attraction than to enjoy it.
We did everything that you're not supposed to do in relationships, we talked religion and politics, we spent time together when we wanted to be alone, it's mutually assured destruction with both sides trying to kick it all off.
But given neither of us are willing to give the other the satisfaction of being right, we're still together.
Generally, when someone starts asking philosophical questions about what is truly good and evil, they're too far gone into darkness to save. Unless you have a secret weapon.
As he began to ask me about how I could truly be sure his actions were evil, I managed to get an arm free and held up the picture he'd carried in his wallet for years.
"What would they say about what you're doing?"
He looked at it before laughing.
"How should I know? That was a stock photo that came with the wallet!"
And some people had shorter distances to fall.
In the world of Lovewe, magic was common, but weak, since it all went through Oricca, Goddess of Magic. She gave people enough power to fulfill their desires but not enough to ruin anything or anyone, and avoid complications.
Obviously, this was unacceptable.
So, I gathered others who hated this, and we made contact with an entity from another dimension who could do the job better. And then we waged war. And won.
And then quickly found out that while they did live up to the bargain, turns out beings from other dimensions don't really understand human needs and wants.
The rounded off robot approached.
"Welcome to the Robocafe #257. Can I take your order?"
I gestured for her to put in her order, but instead she pulled out a cord from her smartwatch and shoved it into the port on the side of the robot.
"What are you doing?"
"Accessing the secret menu."
The way she said it, I guessed it wasn't a proper secret menu. Before I could say anything, the screen on the robot shifted.
"Are those drugs?"
I'm just thankful she didn't try to play it cool and admitted she was as surprised as I was.
As we flew across time and space, I asked my guardian angel a question I was sure it was prepared for.
"So was she the one?"
"Who?"
I wasn't quite expecting that.
"The girl, in that club, on my 24th birthday. The one who danced up to me and tried to pull me out on the dancefloor. Was she the one?"
"That depends."
"Depends? What?"
"You could have had a fulfilling life together, maybe, but only if you both worked at it."
"I thought you said this was about my life?"
"It is. Your life isn't just your happiness, though."
I tallied up the cost of supplies.
"That'll be 367 pieces of eight, I also take pounds, francs-"
"What about steel?"
I looked up and he had drawn his sword. I sighed and took off my glasses.
"You're new at this piracy thing I assume. So let me explain this. You kill me, you get a 100% discount,"
"Sounds good to me!"
"BUTBUTBUT... This store vanishes. And if this store vanishes, all the powerful pirates who like me will hunt you down."
"Really?"
Then the bodyguard all those powerful pirates paid for finally noticed my glasses signal and killed him.
The Dark Forest theory gained a foothold in Earth thinking in the early 21st century, the idea that the reason they hadn't made first contact yet was that everyone else was hiding from... Something.
When, in the 23rd century, Earth did get a message, which was interpreted as "Shut up before it's too late", it obviously got a big boost in popularity.
But a hundred years later, when there was enough social pressure to force exploration crafts, Humanity discovered that the message wasn't so much a warning as an attempt to stop us expanding.
Because the fear was of us.