All of these prompt responses are so damn good. I think I've read like four and every single one has been good.

It's wonderful.

I personally don't mind the final season.

Its nice that they tied up loose* ends and even with the shoe-horned in thing they did I still think its okay.

To me its a slice of specifically Mortal Life that happens...wish the writers were better...

Stepping off the bus, I had been dropped off at what looked like a giant block party.

Trash littered the streets, the smell of weed and booze permeated in the air, there were floats going by in the streets, each with a band playing music that wasn’t terrible- but admittedly, you could only dance to if you were drunk- and the women… well, there were babes as far as the eye could see. Topless babes.

I must have looked like a fish out of water. A girl with long black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that ridded me of any of the social anxiety I would have normally felt in such a situation came prancing over.

“You must be new here.” She said, handing me a red cup and a joint.

“Where is here?” I asked. “Is this heaven? What did I do to get in to heaven?"

Suddenly, the party fell silent. My anxiety was back full force as all eyes were on me.

“Heaven?” She said. Her eyes softened. “Oh honey… This is hell”

Then, another fog came rolling through, and when it cleared, I was sitting at a desk that reminded me of my high school guidance counselors office-complete with a poster of a kitten clinging to a tree branch with the message ‘hang in there’ written beneath it.

A giant red figure handed me a manilla folder. They would have been terrifying if it weren’t for their palpable air of defeat, tired eyes and slumped shoulders.

They grumbled.

“Who did your intake? Lewis? Okay, that explains it. So, I think there’s been a misunderstanding…”

The screen door creaked open as I stepped outside. My cousin sat on the porch in the camping chair we had got from Goodwill when we first moved in to the apartment we shared. It was early morning and I had just gotten home from a night out. I had fixed myself a sandwich and taken a shower, like I usually do before bed, and I was about to go have a smoke and tell my cousin all about my night. 

He had already lit a cigarette and was staring off into the inching morning daylight, not quite seeming himself. 

“Hey cuz, what’s up, how as your night?”

He ignored me. 

“Did you finally hook up with that girl?”

No reply.

“Hey! You good man? What’d you take at that party?”

I waved my hand in front of his face. 

He ignored me still. 

Figuring he would snap out of it, I lit up a cig of my own and sat there silently.  He finally looked over in my direction, without looking me in the eyes. 

“Cousin, you died. You’re dead.. You were in a car accident on the way home.”

As soon as the words left his lips, I realized what was going on. Why he couldn’t see me, why I was on my second cigarette and yet still couldn’t quite taste it. It all came rushing back to me. The headlights coming towards me, the smell of burnt rubber, the asphalt against me skin. I felt like I had been punched in the face. My ears were ringing and my peripheral vision began to blur. The last sound I heard before my vision was obscured by a smokey fog, was every last dog in the neighborhood- all howling at once. 

Through the fog, I could make out a figure. Broad, with slumped shoulders, but still a stance that would suggest no one-or anything-could knock him down. It was a particular mix of self-doubt and bravado, a gait that I had long forgotten, but wouldn’t fail to recognize, even if a hundred years had passed. 

It was my Uncle Lewis. God damn, Uncle was right there. I stood, frozen. How could this be happening?

“Nephew! Welcome! Jeez, you were just a little guy last time I saw you! Damn, that must have been, what, a few years ago now? Just look at my handsome nephew!” 

He ruffled my hair and wrapped me up in a big hug. A few years? I don’t think I saw Uncle since grade school. His memory was never the best. But, as an alcoholic with a gambling problem- what can you expect?

Despite his shortcomings, I was happy to see a familiar face. 

He began walking at a quick pace, motioning me to follow him. I went along with him up the street as my vision began to clear, trying to keep up with his hurried pace. Trying to figure out where I was, I scanned every sign on the way there for a familiar word or phrase. To my dismay, they were all in what looked like gibberish. 

Finally, we made our way to a bus stop littered with cigarette butts. The sky was grey and there was a light drizzle- you know, when the sky just sort of spits on you instead of properly raining? 

“Late, as usual.” My Uncle said with a sigh.

Finally, a bus pulled up. Uncle told me it was my stop, and I was to get on it. Not knowing what else to do, I nodded, and when the doors swung open, stepped on. 

Looking back at the stop, my uncle was gone. 

In a panic, I realized I had no cash. I had no idea where I was, no cash, and the only person I knew since my cousin told me I was dead- had vanished. 

Standing in the aisle, I looked at the bus driver, and before I could open my mouth to explain myself, he said with a smile- 

“Joke?”

“What?” I said hoarsely.

“Tell me joke! Or are you trying to get on this bus for free?”

Nothing has made sense so far, so why shouldn’t a joke get you a bus ride?

I thought of the first one I could. Something about a chameleon having reptile dysfunction…

The driver let out a satisfied chuckle and, with the bus lurching forward, I staggered my way onto an empty seat. 

Not even 30 seconds went by, and the bus halted to a stop. The driver made eye contact with me through the mirror at the front of the bus and informed me that this was my stop. 

You ok?

As you walked through the afterlife, you couldn't help but notice how nice everyone seemed to be. Everyone you met was friendly and welcoming, and the atmosphere was peaceful and stress-free. You had always heard that the afterlife was supposed to be a place of rest and relaxation, but you never imagined it could be this nice.

So when you asked your guide what good deed had earned you a spot in heaven, you were shocked to learn that this was actually hell. The guide, a concerned demon, explained that despite its pleasant appearance, hell was actually a place of eternal punishment for those who had lived a sinful life on Earth.

The demon seemed genuinely sorry for the misunderstanding, and offered to help you get acclimated to your new surroundings. Despite the initial shock, you decided to make the best of your situation and explore the afterlife further. You couldn't believe how different it was from the world you had left behind.

As you walked through the streets of hell, you noticed that everyone seemed to be going about their business as usual, enjoying their eternal punishment with a sense of resigned acceptance. You couldn't help but wonder what you had done in your past life to deserve this fate, but you resolved to make the most of your time in the afterlife and make the best of your new circumstances.

As you explored the afterlife, you began to learn more about the different realms and their inhabitants. You discovered that there were many different levels of hell, each one more severe than the last. You also learned that there were other realms beyond hell, including purgatory and heaven.

Despite the initial shock of learning that you were in hell, you began to see the bright side of things. You realized that you had been given a second chance to make things right and atone for your past mistakes. You began to see hell not as a place of punishment, but as an opportunity to learn and grow.

As you made your way through the different levels of hell, you found that each one presented its own challenges and lessons. You learned to be more empathetic and understanding, and you worked to better understand the perspectives of others.

Eventually, after much hard work and growth, you reached the final level of hell. You were greeted by a group of angels, who congratulated you on your journey and told you that you were ready to move on to the next realm.

As you took your first steps into the realm of purgatory, you couldn't help but feel a sense of hope and excitement for the future. You knew that you still had a long way to go, but you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead and make the most of your second chance.

Thrilling man good job

Beautiful! I've subscribed, I'm so happy there's more!

I haven’t seen the final season. Should I?

This is now one of my favorite stories. I love how conversational the writing is, and I kept chuckling throughout. Also, dang you, I want BBQ now.

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Azathoth

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I tried to rhyme it.
I'm standing here, frozen in place,

With a bullet right in front of my face,

I've got the ability to pause time,

But all I can do is think and rewind.

I wonder how I ended up in this predicament,

Did I make a mistake or was it just an accident?

The seconds tick by, but they feel like hours,

As I stand here, caught in these powers.

I try to remember what led me here,

But my mind is a blur, filled with fear,

I close my eyes and take a deep breath,

Hoping that when I open them, I'll be free from this death.

But when I open my eyes, the bullet is still there,

Hanging suspended in the air,

I know I can't stay here forever,

I have to find a way to move on and sever.

The ties that bind me to this moment in time,

I have to find the strength and the will to climb,

Out of this frozen state and into the light,

Where I can live my life and do what's right.

Oh fuck it's YOU. I should have known. I've not really read much in a while. It's so nice to wander by and find you here, doing what you do so well. Just as I'm thinking how good this is, in that familiar way you have, I get to the end and see your name.

I have some catching up to do, I think.

The demon approached me in a very square business suit with a red tie and shoulder pads that just did not work. It asked me if the place looked right.

“I don’t know. Hell’s taught to be red with fire and brimstone and eternal suffering and screaming from the tortured souls of the damned,” I kind of mumbled. I asked with only vague interest in my ever-monotone voice, “Why are you in a business suit, dude.”

“Oh, well every few business days, as I suppose Earth would call them, Beelzebub lets us get costumes like that American hollerday Halloween. Anyway, Hell is…broken for right now,” it scratched its head with an embarrassed look on its face but nevertheless a buttery-smooth voice. “Space and time in these otherworldly planes as well. Due to this inconvenience, while Beelzebub and Yahweh try to fix time, Beelzebub has made Hell comfortable. So, I guess you can relax and mingle, homegirl. But with that said, it’s going to snap away at a random time, so enjoy it while you can.”

“Uh, alright.” I was never one to mingle on my own, I always let people approach me. I’m also the worrying type, never taking advantage of that sweet free time that I’m jealous everyone else has.

“And since time is broken…,” the demon facepalms itself. “Goddammit,” it groans with no echo. “We’re going to be waiting for-literal-ever! Time is broken!” It throws an orb that I didn’t notice it was holding at the ground. It bounces away from it and the demon devilishly shrieks and jumps around angrily, stomping and swinging its fists and legs like in a temper tantrum.

I don’t really know or care what to do, so I sit down and wait for the demon to stop its tantrum. I realize that I’ve been clad in a prisoner’s jumpsuit…with faux fur lining on the inside. Don’t want us getting too comfortable now.

After some time, that demon shuts up finally and just lies there, simply staring into what should be called the sky. I can feel its anger burning into me. Mostly because its flaming spade tail is embedded into the ground beneath me.

And some time later, another person pops in. I suppose the bloody gates of hell are out of order due to time being broken. Easier in general than making someone stand at the gates. Pat pat pat, the thighs…logistics…pffffff-tsh. Pffffff-tsh. Pffffff-tsh bum duh tsh… Nunu-nunu-nunu-NUUU, nunununuNUUUOOOO nunuNUUU nunuNUUU nuuunuuunuuuWooo…

I really ought to go try making friends. But…Satan might come back any minute and set us all back to fire and brimstone and hellish justice. Then it wouldn’t have made a difference.

But time’s broken, what’s a minute when time is ad infinitum?

But maybe they’ve fixed it already and are giving us genuine leisure time?

And why to the new people? We haven’t suffered eternally in hellscape yet. And shouldn’t there be more dead people arriving every, uh, “minute?” I’ve only seen like two. Were all the movies and TV shows and churches and books and whatnot wrong? Do most people go to Heaven? Then how did I get sent to hell? I mean I can tell that there are millions upon billions of people here. The vastness and endless noise catapulted into my eyes and ears just tell me the scale of grandeur that Hell needs.

I ask that demon how many people are officially in Hell.

“A few hundred million.”

“Can you be more specific, please?”

“A fucking few hundred million,” it sighs and whips its tail at me. “Fuck off, now, girlie.”

—

Diary No. 541

A few many long whiles have passed. I cannot remember much before the past while. Figure a while to be about 15 days, a long while about 30 days, but without a need or even urge to sleep, the concept of a day is also now meaningless to me, a very once-irregular sleeper.

It is still pleasant here in Hell. I still haven’t really conversed with anyone yet. I can’t really take it upon myself. I don’t know anyone here. I don’t particularly care to get to know anyone. But I still kinda wanna. It sucks being bored all the damn time.

Some people have approached me, asking me if I knew what was going on. I said I don’t really know, a demon told me time was broken and the Devil made Hell comfortable while he and God tried to fix time.

We were also told that all of our comforts would be ripped away from us and thrown away in the blink of an eye without warning.

—

Diary #617

I finally talked to someone. They were a Swiss woman. She was nice until she asked me about my favorite cut of meat, then she started talking about the joys of killing cattle with her bare hands. She “taught” me how to strangle a pig properly by tackling a morbidly obese man who had just arrived, covered in sweat and oil. She apoloɑ

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Terrified, I humored myself by absentmindedly dreaming of a mishmash of beer commercial slogans: "this silver bullet is for you." Yeah. I hoped to drink a cold brew once I figured out a way out of this. Problem was that nothing came to mind. The moment I unpaused time and moved forward to the next moment, the bullet would make an impact and I would perish.

It didn't take long for me to figure out that I needed to find a way to somehow go back to the previous moments and undecide to clash with the armed police of the Faddish regime. Perhaps go back to the beginning and decide not to use my powers to meddle with political affairs at all. That was my only way out of this, and... I couldn't admit it was bleak. The only thing I had going for me was that I had all the time in the world. Literally. Which might count for something, I guess. Another problem was that I had no resources, nothing to read, no Internet, and I understood literally nothing about the source of my powers. The first time I stopped time was when I met a girl I only dated once. We were on the subway and she was this close to stepping off before I caught her gaze. Suddenly, out of nowhere, time stopped, and I had the ability to think about every step I needed to take to make sure she saw me. After that it was simple, I just asked for time to stop or start, and it did.

I wished she were here now, or anyone. Argh! How was I even to attempt this? Maybe, just maybe there was some combination of words or thoughts that would do it. I had tried in the past to go back in time and to the future, and no set of words enabled that. My power was limited to freezing and unfreezing time and that was it. Yet, now I had time to really test every single combination.

At first, I set out with rabid abandon, throwing words to and fro "back in time, go to the past, previous moment." The list of combinations was endless and I cursed how many ways there were to say the same thing. Nothing worked. It was impossible to keep track of how long I tried, as the absence of time defied such a thing. It could have been the equivalent of years or even centuries of effort before the thought crossed my mind that I wasn't going to do it, that I had no choice but to unpause time and accept that fateful bullet. Especially since whenever I had those thoughts I had to go back and keep trying, making absolutely sure that I'd exhausted all the options.

When I did unpause time the world went black, presumably from the impact. Then I saw myself from above and assumed that I was ascending into heaven or something equivalent. I really was fooled up until the point I re-emerged into the control room, where they told me I'd died on the subway from being hit in the jugular by a beer bottle thrown by the boyfriend of the woman I tried to pick up, and that everything past that point had been experimental.

r/StoriesToThinkAbout

As ever, absolutely beautiful. I can always tell it's one of your stories due to the haunting images. Again, beautiful.

The vision in my right eye is distorted. I think the shock wave of the bullet just inches in front of it is warping its shape.

I can feel panic rising. The bullet has past my face, heading towards the one I love. I can't react fast enough once I restart time to do anything about it. The reflex to stop time only happened when the sound triggered my ears. By that point it was already passing me.

The sharpest reflexes of a human are around 0.15 of a second. By the time the impulse to do anything reaches my muscles, the bullet will be 400 feet further away.

Well, more precisely it will be 17 feet and 6 inches away. In my husbands chest.

Even if I could catch the bullet midair, it would punch through my flesh and out the other side, still hitting him. Those things contain a lot of energy.

My point of view is fixed but my left eye's vision is crystal clear. The nearest object that might stop the bullet is probably going to have to be steel and more than a quarter inch thick. I can only see one thing that might do it. The gun that fired it. A pistol. Lots of computer games versed me in at least the vague idea of what type it is. 1911 pattern Colt. Who even has a pistol like that in Britain these days? Police? Gangmembers? Oh! There...I cant change the focus of my eye at all but I can vaguely make out the man with the gun is wearing a bullet proof vest on under his jacket. He doesn't look like a cop for sure.

Back to the problem. That apparently has no solution. Can't move fast enough to stop the bullet. It looks like its aimed to hit him in the chest. Probably near the heart. That's going to be fatal. Damn it! There's nothing I can do except let him die! I rail against my power, trying to flex it, stretch its capability. Somehow do that thing they do in movies and perform an impossible task at the last moment. Nothing happens. For what to me is days I strive to act. Do my absolute damndest to move while keeping the rest of the universe still. Nada. I'm left to my failure before he has even died. Maybe...just maybe...with my timestop ability I can get revenge on the man with the gun before he shoots me too.

I cant even cry. I cant sigh or sob. My emotions refuse to change because my body is trapped in a moment of time and emotion is based on chemistry, which isnt changing. I have to let him die. But I will kill the bastard for doing it.

Time released, muscles already primed to do each action. I freeze time every few tenths of a second to adjust, to plan every move. I shift weight, throw myself forwards, freeze time in slices while maintaining my line of sight so I can't be caught off guard. His face is frozen in startlement as I rise up and dismantle the gun in his hand with precise motions.

Then I realise. Even as I put him down, cracking his skull with the butt of his own gun, that he isn't looking at me. The thing he fears is behind me.

​

I turn. I freeze the moment. See the bullet that hit my husband, squashed flat and pinging away from his skin as he transforms. My husband, shape twisting and stretching, becoming the villian, Blood Ogre.

Yea I felt that one

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I get that. Sometimes I just really like the idea I have and I’m in such a rush to get it all written out that I make mistakes along the way like that. Happens to everyone!

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