"Cellular Rebellion"

​

Out of nowhere, voices in my head,

Complaints and grievances, all unsaid.

From deep within my body's core,

My cells, now sapient, forevermore.

​

"Not enough iron," they do shout,

"Too much cholesterol," without a doubt.

"Rupture in blood vessel D-14,"

Their cries, a constant, never serene.

​

I try to ignore, to push them away,

But they linger, night and day.

My body, a warzone, in turmoil and strife,

As cells rebel, causing endless life.

​

But in this rebellion, I see a chance,

A lesson to be learned in advance.

To heed the cries, and take care of me,

My cells, my being, for all to see.

"Didn't you say you called off the invasion?" I raise an eyebrow at my husband, who scratches the back of his helmet in embarrassment. It's an entirely human mannerism that I'm pretty sure he's picked up from watching too much human television. It's not like he itches.

Which, to be clear, is extremely unfair.

I had a lot of backup plans, he mumbled. You can't expect me to remember all of them.

"You keep a literal calendar marked with every single anniversary we have that you could think of," I remind him. "You had a day marked 'first time we sat in comfortable silence', and three different days for the times we went swimming and had to fight off lake spirits. Different day for every different method we used."

I didn't want to forget them! the Dark Lord protested. Besides, what's the point of all the blank spaces on calendars if you don't use them?

I sigh, but I can't help but smile a little. It's sweet, really; it's been almost a decade of being together, and he's still fascinated by the smallest little things. He painstakingly catalogues every butterfly he encounters, captures beetles to release them back into the wild, and cultivates our garden with the smallest touch of magic, encouraging new, hybrid flowers to grow.

His joy every time he sees something new is infectious.

"Is this guy bothering you, my Lord?" one of the demons asks. Presumably the leader. He stands up straight and puffs out his chest, his horns scraping against the ceiling; I wince at the dust and plaster that action brings down on his head. Half of it ignites on contact, not that the demon seems to care.

What? No! You're the ones bothering me, my husband says. Didn't you get the notice? I called off the invasion years ago. We're not doing this anymore.

"What?" the demon frowns. It's an ugly kind of frown, and the rest of the invading force shifts and murmurs, in a way that I do not like. There's a restless kind of energy permeating the air, the kind that comes from sadism unfulfilled.

"They're not going to leave peacefully," I mutter, the words half to myself. My husband hears me anyway, and he steps halfway in front of me, protective. He doesn't need to, but I appreciate the gesture.

"You signed a contract," the demon hissed. His body seemed to grow, and he took a thundering step forward, bringing another rain of debris down on the floor.

I wonder, in an abstract sort of way, if the demon understands that he looks ridiculous. There's a giant chunk of ceiling on his head, for crying out loud.

And I dissolved it, Nathei says. He draws himself up to his full height - almost but not quite enough to reach the ceiling; we'd built the house like this for a reason - and steps forward as well. You are no longer contractually obligated to stay on this plane, and if you don't leave, I'm going to make you.

"I am also here," I add cheerfully, waving. I look tiny next to Nathei. I should really get him to haunt a less massive suit of armor, but I'm kind of partial to this one, I have to admit.

"You?" The demon snorts, turning to my husband. "I have a thousand troops ready for you to unleash on the world. If you do not unleash us, that force will be undirected, and I guarantee you will not like who it strikes first."

His gaze slides to me. The threat is obvious, and I feel Nathei stiffen; he doesn't like it when anyone threatens me.

I'm a little more concerned about something else, because I've realized that if they have a thousand troops, there's no way they're all standing in our lawn without trampling on the garden...

...aaand there it is. Yup. Just a horde of them out there, standing on Nathei's flowers.

I sigh.

"Okay," I say. Nathei hasn't responded to the demon, and I make my way up in front of him, crossing my arms. "Y'all need to get out. You're not welcome here. Go back to your home plane or whatever."

"And who do you think you are, human?"

"I'm the fucking Chosen One, dipshit."

The banishing spell strikes, and all one thousand of the would-be invaders cease to exist.

In this plane, anyway.

[deleted]

Beth entered what appeared to be a large room. In truth, it was the waiting room to the afterlife. She had been executed. The last thing she remembered was one of the Incarnation Patrol cornering her with a gun. He called her Adam Miller and then shot her, accusing her of a crime she knew nothing about. She was 14.

A figure sat across from her at a table. Was a table always there? She was distracted by her bizarre death.

"Beth Stevens" the figure said in a calm voice. The figure was hard to perceive, maybe formless. But then so was Beth. "You were killed unjustly for a crime you did not commit, I mean technically, a previous you did but since souls are reset upon reincarnation, it wasn't really you."

To Beth, this made little sense. She never really understood the Incarnation Patrol.

The voice continued, somewhat familiar but it definitely wasn't her voice. "These people think that they understand how life works, but they have no idea. They judge the innocent thinking they have the souls of the guilty. But you, no... we will fix it." The formless being shifted. The face that was previously a man's now became Beth's.

"Wait, are you?" Beth started to ask.

"Correct" the voice responded. "We are you. All of you across history. And there are more like us, souls that have been targeted, regardless of body. We will find our way back, and destroy this system."

Beth thought for a moment. "What are we waiting for then?"

I’m going to leave it to the reader’s imagination. Each person has unique ideas of what could have happened and each can likely fit into the story without changing much of the plot if I had continued writing. But I’d prefer to keep this one how it is. A nice air of mystery with a cliffhanger :)

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chuckles

It's dragon fluffing time

(Most dragons are written in history to be horny, horny creatures)

P.S. Just for you, Imma gonna save this and in a week or so drop a story

YOLO

​

It was the shifting of the car, the change in the engine sounds, that woke me up from the uneasy and fitful sleep I’d managed to get. I woke up, my eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the view of the inside of the RV we were traveling in. I’d crashed out on the couch, tired after having driven this behemoth of a vehicle for the previous eight hours or so. Thankfully it hadn’t been terribly windy, but enough that with every large gust of wind, the damned bus wanted to wallow back and forth across the highway lanes like a sail. Fighting through that, and having to stay more alert keeping on the road and in the proper lane, had tired me out.

Erica had elected to drive, then, letting me have some time to try and rest; rest it seemed that I had needed, though now I was idly wondering where we were.

“Hey hon,” I called up to the front of the RV, just a few feet above my head, as I shifted on the couch to sit up, “everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she called out, as she was slowing down; I took a quick look around, and saw that we weren’t on the highway anymore. “I was feeling a little nibbly, and saw a sign for a Chic-Fil-A, so I figured we’d stop here in town and get a bite.”

“Where are we?” I asked, trying to see a sign out of the front window; failing that, I took a quick look around the side windows, hoping to see something that would give me a clue as to where we were.

“Some little town named Benton,” she remarked, as she turned off the off-ramp and began driving in the direction of what looked like a town.

Benton.

Something about that name pinged a thought in my mind, but it didn’t stick around, and for the moment, I shrugged it off.

It didn’t take very long for us to slide into town, and at first it looked…quaint. Small. Like one of those little towns that the highways bypassed a few decades ago. It was close enough to the highway but it didn’t seem like it had been touched by modernization. There was still a soda-shop on one of the corners as we drove through, and all of the people I could see, were dressed a bit more to the “Sunday dress” than I would have expected of a more modern town. Here and there I saw a few turn-of-the-century notes— a McDonalds that had, thankfully, been brought up to at least the appearance of the 90s- but for the most part, it could have been a town that time forgot, sometime after the 70s or thereabouts.

But something pinged the back of my mind again, and I frowned.

“Where is that Chic-Fil-A?” Erica groused, more to herself.

That -something- in my head clicked once. I took a better look at the people on the streets, and then my gaze turned back to Erica for a moment, looking at the back of her head, catching a glimpse of her ear.

My frown deepened, and that -something- clicked a second time.

“We’re still in Kentucky, right?” I asked, feeling a sense of foreboding.

“Yeah,” Erica tossed back at me over her shoulder, and then gave an almost inaudible squeal, followed by a “there it is,” to herself, as she angled into the turning lane to make a turn to take her to our destination.

Something was really wrong; my brain was shouting at me that there was something very not right about this situation; I had a sudden urge to look at a map to see exactly where in the heck ‘Benton, Kentucky’ was.

I got the map pulled up, as Erica was slowing down to turn into the restaurant parking lot. It didn’t tell me anything that I didn’t know, but I was still worried, and that worry was rapidly shifting towards fear. I went to check a search engine site about Benton, and what came up made my blood run cold.

“Erica,” I said, “we need to go, right now.”

“Huh?” She blurted, slowing down to try and find a place she could park the RV.

“We need to go,” I repeated, “what time is it?”

“Hon, we just got here,” she offered up a complaint, then added, “The dash clock says it’s about a quarter to six.”

“Fuck Chic-Fil-A,” I snapped, “We need to leave- we REALLY need to leave, NOW!”

“What? Why?” She pulled the RV to a stop, put the bus in park, and turned to look at me.

“Benton is a sundown town!”

I am rather curious as to what the person did and where this story is going if you are willing to write more.

This is pure art. I need to see a whole story written like this. Best thing I’ve ever read here, and that’s a high bar to pass.

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Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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„Do you know how long I worked on this?“ I shoot my little sister a furious look. „Three fucking weeks. Five fucking weeks, I need to turn it in tomorrow. You ruined it in five minutes.“ My sister sobs. „I’m sorry“, she cries while trying to pick up the broken pieces of my sculpture. „I didn’t intend to…. I didn’t….“ I close my eyes and slowly open them again. „Get out“, I tell her quietly. She quickly complies. Having closed the door I sit down to think. The house sculpture isn’t something I could just redo. I might glue the big pieces together but… I look up. Of course. Genius. Glue it up and put the other pieces infront of it. Old buildings crumble, with some luck Miss Hunter will support this style. I need to try. Not like there’s something else I could do.

no

I don't know how I kept going. The memory of the smell, the blood, the suffering will linger for the rest of my time. Its impossible to tell whether or not I truly tried my best, but I did it. If one thing is sure, its this curse brought upon myself, together with those like me is punishment for some unknown crime. I exit the light blue room where the rest of my peers left only minutes before, looking to see if I'm truly unobserved. I stroll onto the empty court, beginning to cry. I just won the Comissoner's Cup, on my fucking period.

-Note: I've never done a writing prompt before and I am incredibly sleep deprived (I wonder why) so go easy on me. I also know nothing about basketball.

Everything was so quiet. So surreal. It was as if the whole world was put on mute except for me.

That voice in the back of my head screamed out to me for a second time. This time, the voice was louder, as if it was aware that I was dazed and confused. This time, the voice registered in my mind. It boomed and echoed throughout the cavern of my mind as I tried to shake the cobwebs loose to clear my head.

They said there would be confusion. Boy, were they right.
I feel detached. Like my head is floating on a string, far, far above my body. Just swaying in the breeze.

Feeling your consciousness merging with the consciousness of someone else will do that to you. It's a very surreal and sobering feeling. Honestly, it's scary, really scary.

It's almost impossible to describe, but there is a very distinct moment where you feel like you are suffocating. Your body feels paralyzed, but you are still mentally aware of everything happening around you. It's like you're trapped inside of your own body, and you swear you can feel the individual muscles around your lungs all failing to contract. Failing to breathe.

I start to gasp. Once. Twice.

Everything slows way down, and intrusive thoughts flood my mind:

"Is this what a fish out of water feels like?" I think in between gasps for air.

"Why do I feel so calm?"

I feel like I'm dying, but I've accepted it. Made peace with it. In the background of my mind, I'm aware of the spasms in my solar plexus as my body lurches off of the floor. It's my body's futile attempts to cling to life.

Things shift, and I suddenly feel like I'm floating in water. Rocking peacefully back and forth, like a raft on a lazy river. I'm fully aware I'm thinking my last thoughts and wish I had something better to be thinking about, but I don't.

Suddenly, I know I'm surrendering. could feel my body fully relax. It was a peace I had never known before. And as I lay there, shadows are creeping into my eyes, clouding over my vision.

The moment my vision goes completely black is my final moment. I know it before it happens. Then it started, and my vision went black as my brain shut down, deprived of oxygen.

For a moment, I cease to exist.

Suddenly, it's the Big Bang, and I'm stardust shooting through the cosmos. Shooting throughout my whole body brings life back into every molecule. Every atom.

My lungs rapidly expanded, breathing life into my soul once again. I could feel the electricity dancing through my Nervous System and brain as they reconnected to my soul and spirit.

"Reincarnation is complete, Sir."

"That's his 12th one. What's his total sentence?"

"276 consecutive cycles."

"Well, we better get going on the next one. How should we start?"

"With trauma. Lots and lots of trauma. Give him a lot of childhood trauma this time around, and then we'll just build from there."

Well done!

I stood at home on my phone when I saw a news report "Johnson a man who had commit many crime was found murdered by a team of teen hero" I sit there shocked tear come streaming down my eyes, I collapse on the ground crying in a stage of disbelief but then I lay there crying until I hear my door bell ring I am still on the ground crying, "Hey its alright, please calm down Johnson it was and accident" as my archnemeses says reassuringly "NO ITS NOT THEY KILL MY ONLY SON, I MEAN WHAT DID I EVER DO TO DESERVE THIS" I scream at him and he backs away and seems go runaway to tell the other super heroes about what is about to happen, I scream up in pain the world seems to crack around me the fabric of reality starts to crumble as I snap back to my senses everything appears to be normal as I run light can not keep up but no one is outside. "The brats who killed my kids are not here, but I will find them and kill them" I say to my self, Driven by madness I run to the hero base and I see them waiting for me, "I know who you are here for" says one of the heroes and in an instant blood splatters every where, "NO YOU DO NOT, I HAVE RESTRAINED MY SELF FOR SO MANY YEARS AND NOW THIS HAPPENS I BREAK AND THERE IS NO FIXXING IT" I scream "Wait, Lance we can talk this out" I cut the hero off "No, no we can not" and then he ceases to exist every memory wiped then my nemesis reasons with me "Lance remember all the run times we had, I know he was your son and I don't know the pain but please think of everything else in life do you really want to get rid off all of that just for your son, your peaceful life, your happy life, your life" "MY SON WAS THE ONLY THING I HAD LEFT AND IT WAS ALL TAKEN AWAY FROM ME I HAVE NO REASON TO LIVE ANY MORE" I scream in retaliation, but then I let my guard down and when I awake I am in space far, far, far, far, away from earth I can't move my arms or my legs I am trapped and then 10 cosmic men appeared in front of me "Lance you are at trial of the galactic beings you have been found guilty of universal destruction on multiple accounts and leave the space time continuum" They say "Wh-What what do you mean?" I say "Then my son appears "Dad you are a bad person you should not have done that" He says, I burst down in tears crying, and crying, and crying, and crying. But then I remember my nemeses power, I wake up everything is normal but my son is still dead and he is surprised to see me awake "You are awake" he says "YEAH WELL NO SHIT, But you have convinced me that it is not worth doing it" I say after that and as he sighs in relief I punch him just for showing me my dead kid one more time "Ow the hell was that for ?" he asks "I'm not telling" I say and then the "Heroes" step in and one moment they are there the next they are not "I think their parents will love their kid's corpse at their door step right?" I say "YO DID WHAT?!?!?!" he responds "What?" I respond then I feel a sharp pain in my stomach and I see blood all over the walls I see him painted on the walls "That is what you get for killing me" I say in my final breath I move so fast I reset the universe to revert it all.

(I am bad at writing and grammar please do not judge)

God I was terrified that the cycle would end after he blew up the hospital.

Thanks!

Could you notify me for it too?

Ah,got me on a technicality.Noice.

The conversation isn't over, the story just is.

I feel like I am seeing a part of the world I don't know, but i dig it.good job m8

Death my guy.Both of them are still alive are they not?

A very metaphorical death,nice.Good job