The Mouse's Fault

He had it all written out, his finger hovering over the mouse to click send. But he sat back instead, slowly.

It was past midnight, and he knew he was tired, slightly incoherent. Why else would he be willing to type out years of restrained love and passion for her in an email? He'd held it back for so long, yet one long day at work, and here he was, willing to spill his guts!

So he left it for the morning. To re-read and make sure he was willing to send it.

Then a mouse ran over the keyboard.

18/03/2105

I had been told, multiple times, not to try and make contact with another time traveller. Not out of concern about ruining the timeline with them, any time traveller was assumed to know all the important occurrences, like how humanity would die (and most of them had seen it happen anyway).

No, the point is that no matter how advanced or odd someone was, they might not be a time traveller. And letting on about time travel to a non time traveller might have disastrous results that and that's why you pray to the rain gods for good rains, child.

The Moment Of True Happiness

My dad told me, on my 10th birthday, as he gave me my first beer, that one day, I'd know true happiness. That there'd be a moment where everything made sense, that I'd work everything out, and be truly happy.

I took that to heart, and worked hard at everything, at my job, at my sweetheart, at everything. And I eagerly awaited that moment.

It never came.

When I drunkenly wrapped my car round that tree, my dad was the first ghost I saw, and I asked what I'd missed.

His attempt to give me what he never had, apparently.

Powerful Changes

I found a way to power my abilities way past my usual limits, via burning out alternate universes. I take a bunch of them and destory them, a million at a time, and my powers over people and things is increased tenfold.

But then I found myself running out of alternate universes. So I needed to create a bunch, preferably ones with massive changes.

So I set up a nuclear bomb, deep underground, powerful enough to destroy the world. It would go off only if the ten thousand digit random number generator manages to...

What the hell's that rumbling noise?

Stirring The Pot

Every day, the little old lady sat at the window of the store, a rug over her lower half, constantly stirring a pot of crunchmix, adding stuff as needed. For a coin, she'd put a scoop in a leafbowl and hand it over, bigger scoops and bowls for silver and gold coins.

The local children all had theories as to what was under the rug. Tentacles was the most popular theory, but clockwork had its advocates.

Eventually, a brave lad snuck in and looked, revealing nothing.

As in no legs at all.

That was viewed as a disappointment by everyone.

A Good Stabbing

As far as stabbings go, it was not the worst. It missed all my vital organs, and there wasn't any poison or ragged edges to tear and rip as I pulled the knife out.

But that just left the blood, the hole, and one pouring out of the other.

I needed assistance, I needed to get help as soon as possible. But that wasn't going to happen, not with him still standing before me, his expression clouded by the fact I wasn't down.

But now I had a knife.

As far as stabbings go, it was pretty good, for me.

The End Of Glory

Glory was one of the most powerful superheroes on the planet, but she knew her limits. There were beings from the cosmos that could snap her like a twig, with just a thought.

So she had her friends, her allies, she called on them when she needed help.

But she didn't waste their time. She knew what she could handle, and would handle it solo.

She was always worried that one day, she'd underestimate a threat and not call on them.

The idea that she'd end when she called for help and no-one came hadn't occured to her at all.