Thank you for your submiision it has scored 14 points!

[removed]

Thank you for your submission and choosing SEUS to be where you first post. I hope you'll join us again!

Your story scored 13 points!

Thank you for your submission; it has scored 14 points!

Thank you for your submission; it has scored 14 points!

Heck, what did I miss? I thought I had the full 14.

Edit: Ah, it's "loops". I must have cut that in an edit. Will add it back in.

Thank you for your submission; it has scored 6 points!

Thank you for your submission; it has scored 13 14 points!

Thank you for your submission; it scores 14 points!

This is exactly what I thought when I read the prompt. Same song and everything. I suppose Baby Shark or John Jangle Jingleheimerschmidt would work too.

#Speedy Cheetah Time Travel Services

WC 369

Congratulations! You have won a Speedy Cheetah vacation trip to Ancient Egypt!

Fasten your safety belts and get ready for the ride of your life! Our comfortable, first-class excursion will bring you to the end of the Egyptian Middle Kingdom and the reign of Mentuhotep IV.

Archeologists have questioned this period for years, and now you are able to possess first hand knowledge and experiences you shouldn’t have were it not for the wonder of String Tunneling.

Our patented time travel process brings you into the action, while avoiding any messy grandfather paradoxes or causal loops that you might get with the other guys. As soon as you begin your journey with us, your trip becomes one of many outcomes.

Start your day with our costume department and sip wine while they outfit you to naturally blend into the eleventh dynasty. Then move on to our exclusive translation team as they install hidden translators to make your experience second to none!

Finally, enter the portal with confidence, knowing our triple-tested, internationally-certified, award-winning time-travel pod is designed with your comfort and safety in mind.

You’ll land at a predetermined location, carefully mapped out by our logistics team. A ground team will be there to greet you and bring you into the Pharaoh's presence. Please bow at that point.

The immunization team will have already prepared you with the ability to feast on anything you find before you at the Pharaoh’s feast. Enjoy the entertainment!

We hope your trip exceeds all of your expectations and we look forward to serving you in the future, or the past!

Disclaimer:

Speedy Cheetah is not responsible for any discomfort, injury, allergy, death, beatings, floggings, sicknesses, enslavement, torture, or foul smells you may encounter on your journey. Travelers agree to avoid disrupting the timeline with any form of anachronism or knowledge transmitted from them to an individual from the past. Speedy Cheetah does not warrant the traveler against unexpected events including, but not limited to, grandfather paradoxes, causal loops, or interference in the timeline by our competitors. Travelers assume all risk and agree to settle all disputes with Speedy Cheetah via a foot race. We sincerely hope you enjoy your trip.

Speedy Cheetah: There is time enough to last.

r/TheTrashReceptacle

"Hey you. Hey. Hey. Hey. You. You. Hey~ You~ Heee~y Yooouuu!"

"Ergh. What?"

"Oh. Nothing. Sorry."

*Drag* *Drag* *Drag* Hehe. It's so much fun walking around in circles with fancy footwork. "Ehehehe~"

"What are you doing!?"

"Huh? Oh, just mastering my Phantom Shadow Step movements… pretty cool, huh? So… you feeling a bit jealous? Yeah? Yeah? No? Hey. You."

"Quiet in there!"

"Oh. So…"

"…"

"…"

"So what!?"

"Aye? Oh yeah! I was just thinkin'… you know those people who stand around doing nothing all day for their job? How do they do it? I mean, its cool and all to be able to have time to think a lot, but… don't ya think its kinda hard to think clearly in those situations?

You know… there's this feeling in the back of your head that you have a job to do, so your thoughts get a bit constrained. But at the same time, there really isn't anything else to do other than look around at the same stuff?

Actually… I tried it once. Sitting in an admin booth all day. Havin' people sign in and sign out. And I'm telling ya, that was dull. Like, really dull man! I reckon, if I had to do that for… hmm, I don't know - a month? No - a week? I'd probably just kill myself - like oh my god! Like - just end it! The suffering! The torment!"

Critical Damage

"Urgh. Look - just keep it down in there, okay?"

"Yeah-yeah! No probs!"

Drag Drag Drag "Ehehe~"

Chew Swallow Chew Swallow Chew Swallow

Gulp

"HEY! I have Misophonia, can you please quit it already!?"

"Uh? Yeah? I guess? Yeah - sometimes I reckon I probably have that too! Pretty cool, huh?"

Fidget Rustle Fidget

Tap Tap Tap

"Uh… hey! You! So like, do you ever get tired of people showing you cute animal pictures? You know - like cats. Cats sitting and staring. Cats doing weird and funny things…You know - pretty much any single thing a cat can possibly do. And its cute right?

But you know… after the tenth time its cute. After the hundredth time, still cute right? A thousand times - no problem! Still cute. A million times! SO CUTE! A billion times!! Cute~~~ SOOOOOOO CUUUUUUUTE~!"

Cute

So Cute!

Clang!

"Look! I've opened the door. Just piss off will you? I'm gonna quit. I don't get paid enough for this shit."

Low Tide in Fel-Worth: Part 2

Read part 1 here!

The story thus far: Julia, a human witch, and Kellic, a satyr, have broken into a low-rise warehouse on a search for Kellic's sister.

“Chaos always extracts a price.”

Who said it? She couldn’t tell. Time was rushing past, future and past blurring together.

Decision. She stood at the intersection of a decision, completely disconnected from how she got here. Thought was painful, like barb-wire flossing her brain.

Where am I now?

At her feet was a a ragged-edged hole dug through concrete, like something had burrowed its way through the foundation to find a place to hibernate for winter. A set of prefab steel stairs were jammed into the naked dirt, leading below the warehouse, lit by a string of naked light bulbs.

Kellic looked up from the bottom of the stairs. “Who’s Rachel?”

He was at the top of the stairs. His face was a mask of fury one moment, then a look of concern next. Rachel? She hadn’t said anything about Rachel.

Julia wiped cold sweat from her brow and tried to orient herself in causality.

When did I get unstuck?

She focused on the moment after she and Kellic had slipped through the door.

They’d found nothing but debris of the drug dealer’s operations: scraps of cardboard boxes, a pile of torn fertilizer bags like a snowdrift in a corner, and long trails of dirt. If Kellic’s sister had a green thumb, she could make a crop grow several times faster than normal. Quite a boon for an operation that relied on speed and secrecy.

A painful sensation sparked inside her, like bad food twisting through her gut, but she ignored it and kept searching. But it grew so strong she could barely move. While Kellic poked through a side room, Julia leaned against a grafittied wall. The merciful face of the Lady of Guadalupe looked down benevolently, as if it was she was understanding of these tiny vices, like drug dealing, or breaking and entering.

She looked at a pipe sticking out of the cinderblock wall, which was dripping noisely. No…it was un-dripping, up from the floor and back into the pipe, totally anachronistically.

“What do you mean, a time loop?!” Kellic shouted.

Julia spasmed, holding tight against the railing that led down into the basement. Was this the present? Need to put it back together! She tried to force time into a tunnel, into a series events.

She was outside in the alley, casting her chaos magic to open the lock.

Chaos always extracts a price, whispered Rachel.

Then the door slammed shut. Then it slammed open. A woman, her form a ghostly blur, burst out of the shut door, dragging an injured satyr along. The woman looked up, and their eyes locked.

The sweat-matted black hair. The brown pupils.

It was herself.

“Oh, fuck. It’s a temporal rift,” she said. “We’re in a time loop. We’re gonna fight another chaos user.”

Memories that hadn’t happened flooded her mind. Causality took a quick cigarette break.

“Kellic, we should–” she croaked.

“What do you mean, a time loop?! Another chaos user?!” he shouted, from the top of the stairs this time. A bald man, every inch of his face tattooed, lurched out of the darkness and fired his submachine gun.

She tried to explain the unexplainable. Down the stairs were many futures, mostly ones that contained gunshots, screams, and blood. A bald man with empty eyes and a big gun. Kellic crying. Julia crying.

Back up the stairs there were safer futures. Futures where they never found Kellic’s sister, but safer futures nonetheless.

She stood at the edge of the ragged concrete hole, teetering on the edge of decision. Stay, or run? The sizzle of her fates flied past her like hot shell casings ejecting from a gun. There may or may not be a fight. She might convince Kellic to come back later, though they’d never find his sister. The bald man might shoot Kellic, or Julia. Death was one of many outcomes.

“Julia, where are you?” Kellic voice called.

Time itself was just an illusion–everything was happening, all at once. She was stuck here at this decision. Run, or fight.

Chaos always extracts a price. Are you prepared to pay it? Rachel asked her, when they were but young witches.

Rachel, who now occupied a coffin. Rachel, who’s killer hadn’t been caught yet.

The thought buoyed her, anchored her. The pain lessened. Time enough at last to focus on the choice.

There was only one decision, really. Julia Ito was many things, but she wasn’t a quitter.

“Kellic, found something,” she croaked.

The satyr shuffled up from behind her, and took a doubtful look below.

“What’s down there?” he whispered.

“A future where we might find your sister,” she said, “and we might die.”

The satyr hesitated, then nodded. He wasn’t a quitter either.

She gripped his hairy arm tightly, and they descended into the darkness.

WC: 799

Like what you read? Get more at /r/gdbessemer!

I wasn't expecting myself to slap me, and yet here I both was.

"Ow! Why?"

Myself snarled, "My temporal shenanigans! I control time and I only use it to fix one date!"

I glared back. "Well, if I understand time loops, I already did."

Myself poked my chest. "But you're past me, so you're to blame. Break the cycle. Don't do it."

I pressed the button anyway.

Five days ago and three hours later, wine stained my tuxedo and a slap burned the other cheek as I booted up the time machine. Past me wouldn't know what had slapped myself.

WC: 100

r/NobodysGaggle

"If you let me go, we can split the cash."

Warning: There is no violence or even direct threat of it in this story, but it is a bit dark and involves a kid.

​

Knock Knock

The sound from my closet door was tiny even in the stillness of my room, but it sent my heart racing. Surely this wasn’t happening. There would be time enough at last, to be ahead of the bad.

I had thought the old man at the park had been insane. I mean, you can’t really trust an unkempt person in a bathrobe trying to feed ducks plastic food stuffs from some toy kitchen set.

Knock Knock

Shoot.

I was missing my opportunity. I moved through the pitch blackness of my room with practiced ease. Hands trembling I opened the door prepared to receive the wisdom from the future me.

“Where am I? Why can’t I see anything?” A small voice called out from the closet.

“Oh, sorry I’ll get the lights. You can come out of there. You will find my bed next to the clock, the clock.” I said as I made my way to the light switch. Why did I sound so small in the future did things keep getting worse and I ended with throat or worse brain damage?

“Ow, I stepped on something pokey.”

Definitely brain damage. “Just stay there.”

After I turned on the lights, I stared at the wall not able to face the wreck of my future. When the voice asked who I was and if I had kidnapped them I had to turn around. The boy looked to be about 7. wait a boy. Why was their a kid in my apartment?

The boy whimpered.

“I didn’t kidnap you and I’ll get you home.” I knelt down, my knee crushing layers of chip bags, and raised my hands. “What’s your name?”

“Timmy, Timmy Johnson. Can I call my dad I no the number.” He rattled off the number, but he hadn’t needed to.

I finally recognized that horrid bowl cut and smattering of light freckles on only the left cheek. I had lost them both when I hit middle school. The latter from sneaking to a barber with my allowance the and former was the one good thing to come out of puberty.

How could I prove to him I was him? “I know, I am you Timmy. I’m from the future.”

“Wow, Really? That’s so rad.”

Had I really been this gullible? Was it being gullible when you were believing the truth?

“Yeah it is. Why don’t you go sit on the bed now while I try to figure out how to get you back home.”

“Where am I.”

“It’s my room.”

He kicked his legs over the side of the bed, a loop of string threatening to fly of his foot. He went still for a moment and glanced at the door. “Won’t dad get mad with you?”

“I don’t live with him. I haven’t since I was 13.” I t was a week after my first trip to a barber. Seeing the widening of his eye, I continued, “I went to live with mom. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Wasn’t he ang– upset.”

An ambulance blared through the night somewhere in the distance, and we listened to it in silence. I groped for what to say to myself. I had been waiting for a future me to tell me what to do. I had always been waiting for others to help me or to tell me what to do. Maybe it was time for me to step up.

“He was but I… had help from a teacher and others. What month and year is it?”

“November 1995.” He said full of pride. “Next week is Thanksgiving.”

He nodded. I gave a quiet sigh of relief. My second grade teacher had made a point of visiting me before I left. She had apologized for knowing things weren’t great at home but hadn’t been able to help me. Even now I remembered her asking me each day if everything was alright and the pit that opened in my stomach each time. Also, I hadn’t known at the time, but my dad had several kilos of substances to sell hidden in the garage that holiday week. It was the perfect time.

I quickly went to my desk and pushed junk around until I found a pen and something to write on. It was warranty for my VR system. It would be a bit of an anachronism but that shouldn’t matter. I wrote the information I had while telling younger me the same. Then I folded the paper and gave it to myself.

“Give this to Ms. Carral. She will help you.” I said, leaving out that it was one of many outcomes. I was holding out hope.

Younger me nodded and let me guide him to the closet now a tunnel. He smiled as he disappeared down the tunnel.

​

Word Count: 799

"This is the song that never ends!"

Four hours. For four hours the jailer had been listening to this.

"Yes, it goes on and on, my friends!"

Four. Fucking. Hours. I have to respect his willpower.

"Some people started singing it not knowing what it was!"

My throat was definitely feeling it from the hours of singing, but the look on their face...

"And they′ll continue singing it forever just because..."

The tight jaw, the bared clenched teeth, the throbbing vein on their forehead...

"This is the song that never ends!"

I have no idea what this guy did to Uncle Vernon, but a 500 bucks is a 500 bucks.

"Yes, it goes on and on, my friends!"

All I have to do is make him break and let me free. And as Uncle Vernon can attest from when he used to babysit, I'm a master at it.

"Some people started singing it not knowing what it was!"

Just need to keep singing... A few more minutes...

"And they′ll continue singing it forever just because..."

His fist is clenching so hard it's almost white! I can see blood dripping from where his nails dig into his palms.

"What will it take to make you stop that fucking song!"

I barely suppress the smile. This guy has just played right into my hands. "Release me."

"No. I will not fail Don Faracetti a fourth time."

I shrug.

"This is the song that never ends!"

Maybe I should add some screeching and be offkey?

"Yes, it goes on and on, my friends!"

Oh, that's doing the trick! Just look at him, scrunching his eyes shut! The screeching is perfect.

"Some people started singing it not knowing what it was!"

"Fine!" the guy shouts, slapping the key into the lock. "Get out! Even death would be better than this!"

I smile as the door swings open, then stand and head out. "Don't worry, I'll tell Uncle Vernon you lasted longer than anyone else."

"Wait... You're Don Faracetti's nephew?"

That look of realization and despair. So perfect.

How long can a man last without water? That haunting question had never seemed so relevant to Tyler as it did now. It was a question that exposed Tyler even further, a question that revealed how dependent he was. It was precisely this dependence that the trial demanded be displayed, and it did dearly demand that display. Anemic bleached white walls, and buzzing fluorescent lights had been his welcoming party. Alone, in what was like a white void, Tyler was left with nothing to do but wait, his body the sole patch of color, the sole focus of the room. That sort of exposure has an effect on the mind. It draws your own inner demons out, as the only thing to criticize is yourself, and as the thirst set in Tyler knew his body deserved plenty of criticism. Like demons sucking blood, that thirst weaned his strength. So his mind began to wean as well, for the mind is of the body, and his body was beginning to fade.

His body was dependent, and by association he too was dependent. His body had been left exposed by walls, but his mind was exposed by the isolation, and the exposure of his mind was what was truly terrifying. This gnawing realization sat deep inside him, but like the ghosts of so many realizations it was buried. That pesky pimple, that broken nail, that old sore knee. Worn out things that will continue to wear out. Man can only go so far with the bodies we are gifted. Tyler felt the race taking its toll, as he stared blankly at those empty walls, his mind hiding the terror that he’d rather not face. Terror is patient, until it’s not, and terror’s arrival was imminent.

Echoing in the distance, it came with a scraping sound, that of jagged metal. It dragged its hulking, scarred, husk of a body along the corridor before hauling open that prison's drab metal door. Its labored breathing, and spiteful snort broke the hum of the lights. This thing, which smelled of vomit, donned a scowl which made its scars look positively peachy by comparison. Its leg was gone, just like the left half of its face. Tyler looked at with the horror of realization; He now understood what the world could to do to him. This monster was a man who had been brutalized, both his body and his mind. With a slam the tortured jailor placed his chair and took a seat.

Tentatively Tyler decided to begin, “I’m assuming you're my Jailor?.”

The raspy voice of the jailor wheezed out, “I’m your judge, jury, and executioner.”

Tyler gave a parched wheeze of his own, “I’m hoping thirst isn’t your execution style.”

“You’d better continue to hope. You're not getting an easy exit. Ya see this inheritance of yours isn’t free. You're going to earn it, If you get it at all.”

With a smile Tyler replied politely, “Well I’d very much like to earn it. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tyler. And your name?”

The jailor scoffed, “You're not going to get it like that.”

Tyler's eyes ever so slightly narrowed, “Well how do I get it then?”

At this, the jailor gave a jagged smile, “There it is. What you care about. You want it. You want your golden ticket. You go ahead and spill your guts. If I like what I see you might get it.”

End part 1

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“Mom, tell me more about that date, with Dad,” Ginger said, snuggling into the crook of her mom’s arm as they sat together on the couch.

“The whole night felt like it had a string of magic throughout--until it snapped,” Ginger’s mom started. “We met in the park just before sunset. We sat on a bench and watched as the thin, wispy clouds cycled from yellow to deep violet, barely perceptible against the black field dusted with stars. It felt like there was time enough at last.” Ginger looked up to see a dreamy, far away look in her mom’s eyes. “We stayed on that bench until there was a chill in the air. He wrapped his jacket around my shoulders, and we walked from there in the direction of the tunnel.”

“We were just wandering the streets together when we found this little diner. It was a complete anachronism--something out of the 50s, maybe. A waitress out front, cook in the back--maybe--I can’t recall. Waitress looked a lot like you, but with hair a dark bottled red. Last customer walked out as we walked in--we had the place to ourselves. She seemed to know exactly what we’d want--milkshake for me, coffee and chocolate pie for your dad.”

Ginger checked her hair once more in the mirror, then adjusted the uniform she had lifted. She stepped out of the back as the young couple passed the customer leaving. For a moment she was in awe of how young her mother looked as they sat down in a booth before walking up to them.

“Hi. What can I get for you two? Pie?”

“You have pie?” the boy asked.

“Chocolate,” Ginger replied, a tingle running down her spine at his voice. “Coffee to wash it down?”

“Perfect,” he replied.

“And for you, Miss?” She looked her over. “You look like a milkshake kind of girl. Strawberry?”

“How’d you--”

“Call it a gift,” Ginger said over her shoulder as she stepped away from the table.

“Your father must’ve been watching me closer than I thought; he apparently had picked up a few of my tricks. As we sat at the table he took a twig from his pocket and made it a loop. When he took my hand and slid it on my finger, there were no ends visible, and it started to bloom,” her mom said, playing with the ring she still wore, running a finger lightly around the small closed bud that rode atop it.

“One slice chocolate pie, one coffee, one house special strawberry milkshake.” Ginger said as she unburdened her tray. “And here’s your straw. Need any creamer for the coffee?” The boy shook his head. “Okay, need anything just let me know.”

“There was something about that milkshake. I’ve tried over the years to replicate it, but no luck.” Ginger’s mom mused, licking her lips. “We sat there like we were the only two people in the world; I have no idea how long it was, or when they were supposed to close. I don’t know how she did it, but our waitress kept us refilled without us calling her. We weren’t even aware when she did it.”

“Probably just an experience,” Ginger offered.

After cleaning the counter Ginger toyed with some inconsequential magics as she watched the two lovers in the booth with a hint of sadness. They seemed wrapped in a spell of their own making, a spell of love that made them unaware of the world around them. They had no idea what awaited them when they left the diner. It was one of many outcomes, but one she knew neither could imagine; it was the only one she was not allowed to change.

“I remember just before we left, when he went to the bathroom, the waitress told me something. I’d been waiting for a good time; if it hadn’t been for what she said, he might have never known.”

Ginger cleaned another tabletop as she watched the boy get up and go to the back. When he was out of sight, she whispered. “You need to tell him, sooner rather than later.”

“I was looking for the right time.”

“There’s never a ‘right time’, there is only the time you have now,” Ginger replied, refilling a salt shaker.

Ginger wiped a tear from her mother’s cheek.

“I went back to that restaurant afterward, but no one recognized the waitress, and the shakes were never the same.” Ginger’s mom said wistfully. “I never got to thank her for the advice.”

“That reminds me,” Ginger said as she got up. “I’ve got something for you.”

She returned with a bright pink milkshake. Her mom’s eyes widened with the first sip.

“How’d you--”

“Call it a gift,” Ginger smiled.

(Word count: 794. Please let me know what you like/dislike about the post. Thank you in advance for your time and attention. Other works can also be found linked in r/atcroft_wordcraft.)

Part 1: Smash 'Em Up Sunday: Urban Fantasy

Saneqil rushed past the dragon's corpse, an enchanted cloth mask around her face - Dragonsbane Fever was fatal to anthropomorphs as well, and the fever only died out when there was no more living tissue to feed on, and dragons were resilient - an hour or so yet before the air was safe.

She knelt beside Fraugh, the lithe archer of indeterminate origin and race - some type of racial mutt - with a penchant for blistering sarcasm and possessive rage. He was mangled badly, she counted 3 broken ribs and several 3rd-degree burns on his exposed skin. He had only been dead for an hour and a half, and with luck, he wouldn't even be lacking in the mind if she healed him right.

She lay another cloth upon his mouth - he'd need it when he woke. His mouth, cut and bruised, had begun to fester already. It'd likely scar. A price he'd have to pay for life.

Saneqil lay a hand on his heart and a hand on his head - the two things that needed to be healed fastest, first, and most thoroughly. A whisper, just barely audible and certainly indecipherable. Deathspeech, otherwise known as the Reaper's Speech or the Last Breath, was incomprehensible to the common of the world - Hells, sometimes Saneqil doubted she understood it.

A whisper it was, nonetheless, and as Saneqil felt life pulse in the heart and mind, she passed her hands cursorily across the remainder of Fraugh's body as he sputtered to life, coughing the scent of his own burned flesh out of his mouth. He looked at her, new life forbidding his usual cynicism. Saneqil smiled in her motherly way, kissing his cheek before leaping to her feet and rushing over to Collise.

A young tomboy of a firecracker, Collise's beautiful blood-colored hair was coated with just that, skull cracked and gaping from the dragon's claw to the head she'd taken. Bits of brain coated Saneqil's fingers as she placed a cloth on her mouth as well. She had to work fast, healing the brain, then healing the heart quickly enough that it would pump blood to the brain.

A tricky case, but one that Saneqil had been in before. Breathing in quickly, she held her breath as her fingers flew like the falcons of an Avian. Almost too late, Collise's eyes flew open, softening from alarm to affection as she saw the figure above her. A playful kiss through two layers of enchanted material on the lips, and Saneqil ran to Awain.

A person of immense magic and mystery, Awain's charm lay in their ability to look on the bright side of any situation - Saneqil would bet her very life with the god of chance that they'd crack a joke the moment they opened their eyes.

Saneqil was numb to the gore, but unfortunately she knew that Awain would vomit the second they saw themself, so the cloth she put on their mouth covered their eyes as well. She healed them as well, a whisper to Karoun once again.

Awain's eyes cracked open behind the cloth. "I presume the reason my eyes are covered is because we needn't my 'acid breath' against the dragon?"

And just like that, Saneqil won a bet with the god of chance. Mother must be proud.

#Time for Sundaes

On August 29, 1877 the town of Willowsdale welcomed two baby girls. Sarah Anne Gerhardt was born in the morning, and Emma Theresa Olson twelve hours later. The townspeople thought they'd be lifelong friends, and they had many play dates their first year. But while Sarah would be a lifelong resident of Willowsdale, Emma would disappear suddenly on the girls' first birthday.

2018

Julia threw her phone on her bed.

"That prick!" she shouted. "Two weeks, and he says the long distance isn't working, and 'we should date other people.' Probably cheated on me, and wants to break it off before it's all over Insta."

"What a piece of human garbage." her roommate Tess said. "Don't string this out any further. Dump him."

"I mean, I knew it was one of many outcomes when we decided on different schools, " Julia admitted. "But two weeks?"

"Garbage. How about we get peanut butter and strawberry sundaes and binge Netflix?"

"That sounds amaze - wait how did you know those sundaes are my comfort food?"

"You mentioned it?" Tess said. "They remind you of PB&Js?"

"No I didn't. That's why I like them, but I haven't had a PB&J sundae situation yet."

"You were tired. It was after last week's all nighter."

"Huh," Julia said. "Well the answer is yes. Let's drown that scumbag with ice cream."

They used the tunnels connecting their dorm to the dining hall to procure the deserts, and settled into a Netflix binge.

"Dang," Julia said pushing her empty sundae cup aside. "I lucked out getting you for a roommate. "

With some encouragement from Tess, Julia soon found herself putting her ex in the past, and focused on enjoying Freshman year. While at times life seemed an endless loop of classes, dining center meals, and parties, the chill to the air suggested Christmas was approaching.

Two weeks before break, the girls were waiting for the elevator. Julia would have taken the stairs, but Tess said something about being tired. When the doors opened, two guys struggling with a couch attempted to get out. Julia recognized one of them as her Devon, who she'd been crushing on for a month, though she doubted he knew of her existence.  "Need help?" she offered, hoping she didn't sound too eager.

Twenty minutes later, as they left the guys' dorm, Devon's number newly added to Julia's phone, Tess grinned. "Bet you're glad we waited for the elevator."

After Christmas, Julia and Devon started dating. Tess didn't seem surprised.

When spring came, and it was time to make living arrangements for next year, it seemed obvious to Julia to keep rooming with Tess.

Tess, however, looked anxious at this request.  "I can't," she whispered. "I won't be here next year."

"What do you mean?" Julia was confused.

Tess seemed to be debating something than sighed. "I'm a time traveler." she said. "Unwilling, but each year, on my birthday, I end up somewhere different in time for the next year."

"Haha. Come on, room with me again. "

"I'm serious. New year, new time. The only constant is each year I get an amazing best friend, and every one of them is either an ancestor or descendant of Sarah Gerhardt."

Julia gaped. "That's my-"

"Third great-grandmother? We were both born in Willosdale, August 29th 1877. I've been bffs with various ladies in your family ever since. Including your daughter."

"My daughter?"

"It's how I knew about the PB&J sundaes. You served them to us in 2044 - which was two years ago for me."

"Your serious," Julia said, stunned.

"Unfortunately. Please, don't ask me to reveal more about the future, or show you some futuristic gadget. Anachronisms are risky with time travel. I never know if I'm going backwards or forwards, so I leave the tech behind."

"Have you tried to stop it?"

"Multiple times. Always fails. So let's enjoy the time we have, and know you'll see me again."

After that conversation, both girls treasured what they knew to be limited time. They spent August 28th throwing Tess an early birthday, and Julia hoped that when she woke it would be an elaborate prank.  That there was time enough at last for a lifelong friendship. But when she called Tess on the 29th, the number was disconnected. She was gone.

September 2044

Julia scoops ice cream into bowls, strawberries and peanut butter ready for toppings. Her and Devon's daughter Lily is bringing her new friend Emma over after school today. She hears the door open, and Lily's voice, along with one she hasn't heard in years. The girls enter the kitchen, and there she is. Tess - Emma - slightly younger than when Julia knew her. Julia steadies herself and smiles. "Hi! Do you have time for sundaes?"

WC: 790 Edit: formatting

Help Needed

The memory of a children's hospital is ghastly.

Gladys sat, entombed in a dying van parked so deeply in the lot it was technically a satellite. Distance didn't help; it just made St. Paul's looked like a candy-colored tick stuck to asphalt. Cheerfully ominous.

She took a deep, grounding breath. "I'm projecting. I know I'm projecting."

"So get on with it," her bag said in a tone of entrenched boredom. The clasp was open enough to let a small tail of darkness flick idly back and forth. Nic wasn't patient-- night terrors usually weren't, even before getting caught inside anachronistic accessories. "Mortals and their loops. Obsessing forever."

He wasn't wrong. With a sigh Gladys grabbed the bag and got out.

Crossing the lot was exhausting. Nobody remembers cars, so they never exist in places like this. Why bother? But everyone recalls walking and emotions. So the trip became a marathon of effort, pushing through resignation flavored with dread so deep it felt like dying. Magic helped, a little, but it was a relief to finally stumble into the waiting room and watch the world outside vanish.

Inside the hospital had more detail, but not much. It was another half-remembered place, just an impression of antiseptic smells, endless benches and cold tiles. Only the colors remained constant, a bombastic palette on every wall like melting ice cream. Gladys waved to a vague impression of a receptionist as she went by.

Then she roamed a bit. Not the best approach, honestly. But after a dozen random turns she hit the jackpot, emerging into a hallway with the kind of details only pain can remember: A bright tunnel of clean tiles, big windows and plastic wall bumpers. Posters so cheerful they bordered on saccharine, with colors so bright they hurt. All of it arranged to point towards the end, where a small chair waited next to an open door.

A large man sat there, hunched over and sobbing. He didn't look up as she walked by, but Gladys kept an eye on him until the door closed with a soft click that erased everything.

"Hello? Who are you?"

She turned and there he was, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed in that ungainly sprawl only the young ever managed. Just a boy, famine-thin and terminally pale, practically drowning in a hospital gown and blankets. But his eyes contained worlds: Abyssal pits set in sunken hollows of unwanted knowledge.

Gladys put her bag down on the end table. "Daniel Pratt."

"That's me," he frowned, unimpressed by secondhand clothes and a fuzzy mop of red hair. "But who are you? Where's my dad?"

"He asked me to help, actually. From the outside." She popped the catch, letting Nic out in a slow flood of shadows. He solidified into a feline shape, balefire eyes trained on the small figure. "You can call me Gladys, and I'm from Underhill Services."

"Are you a doctor?"

"A witch, actually."

"Oh. Is that why you have a cat?" He seemed fascinated and repulsed by Nic at the same time, drawn taut like a piece of string.

"He's not a real cat," she explained. "Nic is more like an... assistant. He helps me with things like this. He's a night terror."

Something ageless moved through his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"You're haunting your dad, Daniel." Gladys watched him carefully, unsurprised at his lack of reaction. "Whenever he sleeps, this memory is waiting. He can't resist coming."

Daniel looked down. "He loves me."

"He does." Gladys pointed and Nic slid forward, pooling in the boy's lap. "And that's not bad. But you're using him up a little every time, and it has to stop. Nic helps with that. So do I."

A stick-thin hand rose and settled on the living shadow. "How does he help?"

"You just choose to move on. Nic will do the rest-- he eats bad dreams. He's already taken the rest of this one as we walked through. It's something nobody else will ever know but us."

"What if I don't want to go?"

She winced, but didn't hesitate. "You'll become one of the cythraul. A bad spirit, hopping from person to person. It's one of many outcomes, honey. All of them bad."

He thought for a long time, sitting under unforgiving hospital lights with a lap full of darkness. Eventually Daniel nodded once, then leaned forward and somehow fell through Nic. In return the night terror grew slightly, then turned on itself and slipped neatly back into her bag.

The world grew blurry, unreal. Somewhere far away a man's voice cried out in guilty relief, knowing there was time enough at last.

Gladys closed her eyes. She hated lucid waking. "Be kind to that one, Nic."

"Or else."

WC: 795

r/Susceptible

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This is my first time on this subreddit!

Also, I didn't read the 800 world limitation so I was planning on a longer story and the last bit was compacted and essentially summarized into a small confinement of words.

One last time

"TwiLife, the renowned science team known for Trig pills which effectively stops FOP from turning muscle tissue into bone, is now working on a clinical surgery that may revert facial skin tissue aging.

Wallus Fintesco turned towards the TV to say, "shut up," and the TV screen gave a sigh as it shut down. TwiLife's goal was not to revert aging. Their end game was to use their funding to create a tranquilizer that places people into a mental coma that can be ended at a specific time manually using a dosage of a special formula they would make. They made it painstakingly obvious with every high ranking staff member having a history in somnology. Why is this a bad thing? Based on the founder, Charles Faywal's history in anti-social media campaigning, it would be used in a string of attacks on social media's worst influencers. How could Wallus tell?    

With an IQ of 135 and experience on the streets of Detroit as a cop, Wallus was extremely intelligent and extremely bored. He gave a crap at one point, but eventually gave up. Ss he finished the thought, he realized the entire cafe was now staring at him.    

One man in a piss colored parka saw Wallace lift his head up and shouted, "turn the television back on." Wallus shouted at the smart TV to continue the news broadcast. Even when he had tried to make a difference as a cop he became increasingly frustrated at how unbalanced the system was, and eventually landed on the conclusion that he wouldn't ever make a difference. That's when the broadcast said something that grabbed his attention.   

"TwiLife has drafted a new scientist to join their already prestigious organization, Jamie Roxwild," droned the speakers as Wallus jumped out of his chair. He dashed out of the cafe and jumped into his car. As he arrived at his apartment, he opened his laptop and googled 'TwiLife payroll.' There he confirmed it- they'd hired Jamie Roxwild. He knew Roxwild from his time on in Detroit, back when Roxwild was still in high school. He was clever but did have an odd sense of anachronism. He spoke like he got lost on his way to the 1700's. He made you feel uncomfortable in the way that around him your breathing would quiet down and your chest would tighten up. Roxwild was quiet but once ended up in the back of Wallus's squad car. Roxwild had, believe it or not, broken into a morgue and decapitated a suicide victim.   

Wallus decided he was bored anyways and that the twist of someone he'd met before being inolved with twist it up a bit. His boring life was in need of some excitement anyhow.

1: TwiLife's goal is to launch a string of attacks to place certain people into mental comas, for some malicious reason or another.

2: TwiLife is revered by most scientists as the second coming of Christ for science

3: TwiLife's original failed project, covered up by bribes, caused the 'accidental' deaths of 3 different Twitch streamers.

The third one was very clearly a failed attempt at using the tranquilizers. They got the dosage wrong and accidentally committed homicide. And this point, all Wallus had to find was solid evidence. Wallus would be hailed as a hero and would get enough money from interviews and possibly a government payout to retire. It was one of many outcomes of course. He could also get killed, as TwiLife had committed homicide before, even if by accident.   

After days of planning, Wallus had a plan. He would request a job from TwiLife, which would be easy considering his 135 IQ and knowledge of chemistry from busting wannabe Walter Whites on the streets of Detroit. He would fake a history in somnology by bribing some college professors. After that, Wallus would be reached out to by the leaders of TwiLife due to his fabricated history in somnology. Finally, all he would need to do would be recording an incriminating conversation and sending it into the police.    Wallus executed the first part of his plan over the weekend. He was accepted immediately, and reached out to 5 days later to meet with the heads of TwiLife. A few days later, he was called in to meet Faywal to discuss his 'future with TwiLife.' Tape recorder brought, evidence created. It was nice having 135 IQ, Wallus thought. Finally, he went to the police.   

Lo and behold, TwiLife's leading members were arrested the following tuesday night. The news broke out quickly and Wallus received a hefty paycheck for interviews. There was time enough at last for him to rest. All was well until, "turn around, Wallus," the intruder waited for Wallace to turn around before continuing, "you sent my brother to jail."

​

BANG

​

WC: 800