Being able to save innocent lives would seem like a good thing, but I can only know who is innocent after activating my power, and in order to do that I must kill an innocent person. In a time of crisis it is always tempting to kill the closest person, but the closest person is not always innocent. It is hard to judge a person’s innocence from looking at them. Even after the power activates and I can clearly see who I can save the number of people I can move to safety is always smaller than I first expect.

I end up hanging around places with lots of children as a result because I can save most of them as they have not usually lived long enough to loose their innocence. Sadly as I get older, the number of innocent children in any group shrinks as it seems they are being corrupted younger as time goes on.

This one last time I looked up to see the nuke heading for my city and with no one else close enough I decided to sacrifice myself, hoping I would be considered innocent and that I could use my power as I died. In the moment of my death time froze and I was able to spend what felt like forever carrying those marked as innocent to safety. I was only able to save 25% of the city and surrounding affected area. As I brought the last of the about 500,000 innocent people to safety I contemplated if my life was worth this last act. If I had sacrificed someone else I might go on to save more people, but with the number of innocent people I could save each time diminishing and the number of people I had killed personally, I was glad it would soon be over. After I double checked the city to make sure I had saved everyone I could I let go and was blinded by the irradiated light.

Thank you!

Good lord. The day was saved, but at what cost?

Cool story.

Maybe im half asleep but I don't get whats going on. I read and enjoyed both parts but whats the secret?

He save lives at the expense of one other.

Can he be called a hero?

…perhaps it’s up to this “Trolley Man” to decide.

Nice job.

> Is Speedster actually an idiot?

Takes one to know one

Thank you!

Wow. This, this right here, is a Trolley Man. Someone who knows the stakes, and has seen what happens if things as they are get allowed their due course. Good on you, sir!

Dang that would mess up a 10 year old. Great writing though!

Wow I love how the genie was kind I don't see that too often. I really enjoyed this story thank you for sharing !!!

Pretty good, but the story seems incomplete. Something like this also needs a tale of inaction. The Trolley Man needs to know that if things run their course with no action, the deaths would be a result of inaction. In other words, reality runs its course.

I had the thought the other day that ai created Bitcoin as a way to push humanity to exponentially increase their computing power. After this crypto nonsense fizzles out, all those processing data centers have to do something, why not power ai?

Someone smarter than me can write a story about that if they want haha

The mission was easy: Infiltrate, observe, kill. The crown prince wasn't willing to abdicate? For only a few ducats Mr. Uncatchable took the job. This was too easy. He was a master of blending in. Nobody noticed, when he sneaked in. Nobody noticed that while the other servants vacated the floor to let the newly appointed heir rest, he stayed behind.

Mr. Uncatchable located him soon enough. He only needed to follow the sobbing sounds. A delicate placate indicated the room he was looking for.

Silently Mr. Uncatchable slipped in. He didn't need to open the door much. Like liquid he pressed himself through the crack. Too easy. After this job was done he would go on a lengthy vacation. The prince sat on the ground. He was crying. Scattered around him were pictures of him and his brother. The brother who had sent Mr. Uncatchable to kill. 'Didn't the royal family educate the crown prince better? What a mess' the silent killer thought, when he casted his little evocation spell: Eradicating Knive.

Being an assassin meant, that Mr. Uncatchable was a man of focus commitment and sheer will and of course dedication. Always keep your eyes on the target.

So where did it went wrong? Nothing indicated, that the mission would fail. But failure as assassin always implicated terrible fates. Mr. Uncatchable replicated this moment many times. Sneak in, ready the weapon, aaaand. The obfuscating scent of a strange medication. He would fail this assignment 10/10 times.

"What is this smell?" he cried out unvoluntary.

Startled by the sound the prince would look around and grab him. Thanks to the scent Mr. Uncatchable had lost his concentration. His weapons were gone. Desperately he defended himself barehanded but was soon overwhelmed by his target. There was no way Mr. Uncatchable could communicate with his allies asking for help.

Now he was cuddling in the arms of his victim who had found the letter Mr. Uncatchable's client gave him. His plan was to leave this letter over the crown prince's dead body. But now it would serve as evidence of his failed assassination attempt.

'Dear Brother,

I am sorry I screamed at you, when you were appointed as heir. I never meant to harm you, and while I spoke threats in rage I still love and care for you. As as apology I sent you someone I found while I was out in the city. He likes shiny objects, so I thought you might want to spoil him a bit. I went to your room earlier to bring another present and to apologize in person. You weren't here, so I left it under the bed. Your companion will love it.

It's Catnip.

I hope you can forgive me.

Love.

Your Brother'

Haha. Thank you for that. I mean, I certainly could've done more with the aftermath. As it stands, I only covered the events that the prompt suggested. Might've been interesting to do more with the team dynamic as well.

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As the vampire walked on the wet sidewalk illuminated by the bright moon over the city, the young boy on his shoulders finally mustered the courage to speak.

"You're quite scary," he said.

"I look just like anyone here- even with my high fashion," the vampire replied.

"It's not that... it's what you did to those three back there. And your look; those eyes," the kid continued. "They're cold, like there is no life in you. And you're really, really, tall!"

"Correct on that, young man," the vampire retorted with a smirk, raising his eyebrows upward to the boy. "But- tell me... why do they believe I am an enforcer of their laws? I do not care for any of them."

The boy gulped nervously. "Because... you're killing bad people, making good people safer," he replied.

"Incidental," the vampire stated firmly. "Simply put, I presumed it would be easier; not much of an affair if I consumed the dregs of this place. No?" the vampire inquired as he looked up to the boy.

"I guess," replied the kid who was having fun being so high up. "My parents said the police are looking for you."

"Here we are," the vampire said. "251 East 17th Street. A nice building, indeed." He lifted the boy off his shoulders with one hand and set him down as if he was the most delicate porcelain ever created.

"How about I leave it up to you..." the vampire said, bending down to reach the boy's height.

"Leave what?" the boy asked.

"If I should continue eating those kind of people or go back to the blood bank," the vampire replied.

The boy took a moment. Then, he looked up at the vampire that just minutes ago saved him from being abducted.

"Just those people, ok?" the boy innocently asked.

"Then it's settled!" the vampire exclaimed in satisfaction. "Next time, no wandering off alone," the vampire continued, petting the boy's hair.

As the boy walked toward the building entrance, he turned to the vampire.

"What's your name, mister?" the young kid asked.

"I don't remember," he whispered to himself as he slowly walked back into the night.

Very nicely done!
A lot of personality in the text and a clever way to describe the bloodsucking character. Also you manage to put quite a lot of information in a very short amount of time.
And The spiderman reference is very well done too x3

Charlie stood behind the stepstool at the bathroom sink, rubbing the paint off of their fingers. They’d have to see if little Sam was ready to stop painting so they could clean up the kitchen. They’d gotten much better at cleaning the past couple months. Having a five-year-old around will do that, they supposed.

Charlie reached for the soap bar. It would have to be replaced soon, it was getting thin.

Very thin.

Before they knew it, Charlie dug their fingernail into the edge of the bar. They tore off a strip and rolled it between their hands into a ball. Okay. We can stop now. We can rinse our hands. And leave the rest of the soap. Their hands stumbled, fidgeting, and rolled another. And another. Until the soap bar was replaced with a neat little pile of balls in the dish.

Charlie sighed. The compulsions were getting harder to fight.

Back out in the kitchen, Sam announced she was bored of finger painting and marched off to wash her hands after Charlie.

Charlie set up the stick figures, sunsets, and mountains to dry and set to work cleaning up the paint. As they scrubbed at the table, thoughts popped up unwanted. You’re not a good parent. You’re not even a real one. You got Sam because no one else would take care of her.

Charlie frowned and scraped harder at a particular bit of dried paint. It’s not enough that you love her, or you’re trying. When has trying ever been enough? You can’t even wash your hands right.

“Blech,” Sam said. Charlie walked to the bathroom and saw her spit out one of the balls of soap.

“These are bad peas, they taste gross.”

“Oh honey, you’re not supposed to eat those. That’s soap.”

“Ooooooh. Why’s it look like peas?”

“I–” Charlie flushed. “When the soap bar gets thin I roll it into little balls.”

“Ooo, can I try?” Sam jumped up and down on her stepstool. “I wanna make soap peas!”

“Well–there’s another thin soap bar in the bathroom in my room. I’ll grab an extra stepstool and we can go there.”

“Yay!” Sam marched into Charlie’s bedroom, clapping her wet hands with each step. She popped up onto the stepstool when Charlie set it down, and smiled into the mirror.

Charlie took the bar of soap. “You see how the edge comes to a little point?”

Sam nodded.

“If you stick your fingernail in, you can tear off a piece. Then you just roll it between your hands like this.”

Sam followed the instructions closely, staring hard at the soap like it would boost her fine motor skills. She opened her hands. “A soap pea!!”

Charlie smiled.

“Again! I wanna do more!”

With paint stains and wrinkled fingers, Sam and Charlie rolled the rest of the bar into peas, Sam humming and shouting “Ta-da!” after each one. Charlie looked up into the mirror, their head above Sam’s. And their thoughts didn’t say a word.

You are too op for this

That's a big fucking truck!

[removed]

PART 2:

Caleb waited for some sort of explosion, beam of light, flick of the genie’s massive fingers. Instead, the genie crossed his arms and said, “nine minutes remain.”

“Did my father find your lamp?”

“Yes.”

“Was I the only one to find it after him?”

“Yes.”

“Did he wish for fortune?”

“I have already answered this,” the genie grumbled.

“Answer again.”

“He did.”

Caleb took a deep breath. The next question was difficult for him, but he needed to know before he made his final wish. “What was his second wish?”

The Genie smirked. His wispy form suddenly began to change, turning pale and fleshy. His purple limbs deflated and his torso tightened. There was a moment of erupting smoke, then from it emerged Caleb’s father. He hadn’t aged a day since Caleb last saw him. Same grey-green eyes, like his own. Same pale skin, caramel hair, lanky figure.

“Dad?” Caleb exclaimed. He reached for him, but the skin he touched turned to smoke. He took a step back.

His father stared past him. “I wish my family was happy and healthy for as long as I live.”

Again, the form began to change. A dark cloud appeared, and the genie returned to his previous self. “This was his wish.”

“I don’t understand… Why wasn’t it answered?”

“He wished for a happy family. A happy family he received. This was partially achieved by erasing his memory of you.”

“You gave him… a different family?”

“Yes.”

“You tricked him,” Caleb exclaimed. “Like you did to me!”

The genie remained silent.

“You twisted his words, didn’t you? You have to answer my question!”

“True,” the genie rumbled. “I must answer, but how long I take is my choice.”

“Then you will never get my final wish.”

“I twist nothing. I interpret. You humans impress me with your lack of understanding. Three wishes, the world at your fingertips, yet so careless with your words.”

“What was my father’s final wish?”

“There was no third wish. With his second, his memory was erased — and I was allowed my rest. Because of you, he died slowly. His family was happy while he lived, thinking they would inherit his fortune upon his death, until his death, when they realized it was left to his real family… you.”

“You’re no genie,” Caleb said slowly. “You’re the devil.”

“Twenty seconds remain.”

“How did my mother die?”

“Your question is too vague. It cannot be answered in time.”

“Try,” Caleb insisted.

“Work broke her body, depression broke her spirit. Your time is up. I have obeyed your wish.”

Caleb felt a tear glide down his cheek. He brushed it away. “I’m ready for my final wish.”

“Go on.”

“For my final wish… I wish to reset time, before my father found your lamp. But this time I wish to live our life the way it was meant to be, in a world where no one would find your lamp again.”

The genie laughed darkly. “Another mistake. By my count, your wish can be interpreted as two, even three wishes. And since I’m now in command of your words, and able to bend as I see fit, I —“

Suddenly the genie paused, as if considering the wish for the first time. “I — no one would find my lamp again?“

“That’s my wish,” Caleb said.

The ground began to rumble. The chains around the genie’s arms rattled until they broke and fell to the floor, disappearing into a purple mist. A look of relief fell over the genie’s face.

“Your wish is granted.”

The room was silent for a long moment.

It was impossible, and yet it had happened. Standing in the room beside a monster was something far worse. Though human enough in appearance, a sixteen-year-old girl with crimson hair, and crystal blue eyes. Ancient portraits of this creature were hung as warnings to all who would forget her.

The terror of the Blood Moon's appearance had all but the most fearless recoil. Hushed whispers filled the air next, and yet nothing happened. The girl yawned and glanced around at those gathered.

"Well, I suppose this should feel familiar...but I think..." The girl blinked owlishly, before looking down at the adventurer with a blade to his neck. He was the chosen hero, why would he be forced to his knees?

"Oh. Oh! I see what happened. Hahaha. She sent me to her place! Sorry, I wasn't paying attention when she asked me to come." The red-haired girl was laughing to herself, as one of the King's aides addressed her.

"Oh, bringer of Darkness, child of chaos. This creature has been duly tried for the crime of heresy under the Lord of Justice's mantle. The punishment is death. Do you mean to interfere?"

The aide recoiled when her eyes focused know him, and with an utterly blank expression, she replied.

"Sure. Anything for my baby sister's first contractor."

Whispers again filled the hall. Some wondered why the blade had not been drawn against the Adventurer's throat.

"You would dare to challenge the God of Justice? In his Cathedral?"

The girl's expression shifted to one of excitement.

"Oh, he can try it if he likes. I haven't killed a God in ages," with a small flourish, the girl pointed to the sword carrier, and the room was horrified as he twitched, shivered, and writhed in place, only his sword arm moving until it was placed to his own throat. "Be a good boy and stay, all right?"

The Blood Moon hopped down the steps to sit beside the kneeling man.

"Sorry to butt in. But it was probably to save you a headache. That girl doesn't know the idea of restraint, and when you called in danger she likely panicked. So, since you called, I assume you don't want to die?"

Blinking slowly at the girl's words she merely nodded in response.

"Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Yuri, Yuri Bludvayne, but I prefer to just go by Yuri. Some have called me the Crimson Moon, Blood Goddess, and the Origin of Vampires. Still, I prefer simple old Yuri."

If any had planned to stop her, none stepped forward now. Who had this boy made a contract with to summon this thing in their stead?

The Hero remained silent, but in his eyes, he spoke volumes.

"Hmm. It seems a curse of silence was put on you. Impressive you managed to call out to us like this..." with a snap of her fingers the magic crumbled. Symbols and words flowed from his throat and into the air. All settling above the aide's head.

He rubbed his throat, as feeling returned for the first time in days.

Yuri, however, was attempting to deduce something before stifling a nervous giggle.

"Usually this would be when the mysterious, beautiful Yuri deduces the secrets, and cunning plans of the court...but...I am actually preeeeety stupid," she exclaimed with a tension-breaking laugh. It made several of those gathered begin to wonder...if this was the Blood Moon at all. Or merely a trickster in her place.

The sudden laughter of the fallen hero once again brought the room to silence.

"You are just like that silver-haired maiden. Impulsive, powerful, and a complete idiot."

Yuri gave a toothy grin.

"That's us! Tons and tons of power, but we aren't exactly considered the brightest of our kind. If you'd like though, I could ask for someone far smarter to help."

"Enough of this madness, trickst-" The aide began, however, he was cut off by his screams. Dozens of sores tore themselves open, as his blood flowed freely from his body. Floating and arranging itself into a message.

'I hate being interrupted.'

Without even looking his way, the aide was drained of every droplet of his blood and collapsed into a dried husk. Any words of reprisal died at that moment.

"Do you want to go?"

"No. These...people...killed my friends, imprisoned me, and held a mock trial all to sully their memory..."

"You consorted with demons and demi-humans! Monsters! You are tainted! You have to face your punishment!" The trembling swordsman declared, his blade still firmly to his own throat.

"Ah, what an old cliché." Yuri clicked her tongue in annoyance, before standing up to address the gathered people.

"The King, Cardinal...whatever position the man on that throne had, hired the guy, and his friends, to solve some terrible problem. Demon Kings, Ancient Horror, whatever it was. Then once it was dealt with they got scared, or angry. Invited them back, and then basically told them for the crime of being good people, they would die so that the kingdom had peace."

The Adventurer was shocked.

"You said you were stupid, Lady Yuri."

Yuri smiled and looked at the hero.

"Still don't like to be interrupted~ but you get a pass. Besides, I have seen this play out so many times...it isn't intellect to see a pattern after all this time."

Standing for the first time, and towering over the petite Blood Moon.

"So what do we do, Lady Yuri?"

"Oh, I already told them. I am going to commit a bit of regicide now."

The guards and the lord who sat upon the throne had only a moment to panic, attempt to protect themselves, and fail. Even if the hero wanted, he could not have had the time to stop her.

It was far more agony than the aide had suffered. All she had done is slightly change their blood. Now their bodies burned from within, as screams and howls of agony gripped them.

"What have you done, demon!?"

The executioner was the only one untouched.

"I turned parts of their blood into acid. Just enough to burn away at their body slowly. It will take hours for them to die, eyes boiling, brain searing, heart tearing itself-" She was excited, her eyes now a glowing purple color but the hero placed a hand on her shoulder.

"While I will not defend them, nor ask for forgiveness for them. They do not deserve torture. Please, end it."

Yuri paused, looked at his hand, and back to him.

"I am not a fan of men touching me so casually, but again I make an exception," she proclaimed before snapping her fingers. In an instant all who had been screaming and writhing died. It was quick, quiet, and horrible.

"What was that?"

Yuri just looked at the executioner.

"Don't ask, you won't like the answer." Her gaze flicked over the Hero. "Come on, let's go. I take you to my sister, she'll want to hear more stories."

"Ah, very well Lady Yuri."

The crowd parted as the pair walked out. He had to admit he was very much concerned about exactly what had happened.

"Oh, I don't remember catching your name," Yuri mentioned as they reached the gate to the outside courtyard, the crowd watching fearfully from around them.

"Ah, I apologize. My name is Vlad, a pleasure lady Yuri."

That made Yuri laugh as well.

"My father's name was Vlad. How funny."

In a flash of crimson, the pair disappeared. Leaving many eyes to return to the executioner, who remained. The only member of the court to remain.

"Chaos Child indeed," he whispered as shouts and screams filled the chamber hall. The executioner was consumed as rage, fear, and greed descended upon him.

It was almost midnight when the helicopter landed. A golden light circled the pad, illuminating the two men inside.

The pilot turned to the one beside him. “Sir?”

Caleb hesitated. He was twenty-eight years old and he’d never stepped foot on his father’s mansion. It was unlike anything he’d seen before. Twenty years and he kept it all to himself.

“You okay?” the voice of the pilot entered his headset.

“What if I want to leave? I just call you to pick me up?”

The pilot looked at him as if he were the same kind of crazy as his father. “If the mansion isn’t to your liking sir, there are several others for you to explore. I’m at your service, but first I recommend you check the collection of cars in the underground level. You’re welcome to them, since they’re yours. If you have trouble, wake the butler.”

With a nod, Caleb stepped down and felt the cold air rush against his face. A minute later the chopper was gone and he felt the heavy silence of the night.

He found the elevator and followed it down the floors. He walked along marble hallways, imagining the excitement he might’ve felt as a child. As an adult, he felt nothing.

He explored the mansion solemnly, discovering more living-rooms, kitchens and bedrooms than he could count. At the lowest level he found an underground garage ten times bigger than the apartment studio he’d grown up in. Back then, his mom worked two jobs to pay rent.

“Your father moved on. Now we have each other.” He remembered her words as he distantly counted the cars. It was the last she’d spoken of his father. If she were still alive, he’d have taken her there and watched as she burned it all to the ground. If he’d had her spine, he’d do it himself.

The last car ended his count at twenty-three. As he was about to exit the garage, he noticed something he didn’t see before. Parked in the corner, beneath a dusty cover, was an old car. It wasn’t flashy or expensive like the others, but something about it caught his attention. As he pulled off the cover, he noticed a flickering light emanating from the dash. He opened it and discovered a dusty lamp. He reached for it gingerly. As if spitting, purple light emerged from its spout. There were markings on it, but they were hard to read. He brushed it off and —

BAM!

The garage was blinded with powerful violet light. A genie emerged from the lamp, the force of its awakening so great that several cars were thrown to the side, crumpled and alarms blaring. The genie stretched, turned to the cars and growled, “OFF," at which point the sounds ceased. “You’re right to be frightened,” said the genie in a rumbling tone. “You’ve woken me from a pleasant sleep.”

“Sorry…”

“Too late. Now that I’m stirred, I cannot return until we’re finished.”

“Finished?”

The genie fidgeted impatiently with the chains around his massive wrists. “With your wishes.”

Caleb thought about it. “I have more money than I could ever spend. But I wouldn’t’ve wished for it.”

“If you wish, I could take it away?”

Caleb dared himself to meet the genie’s gaze. “Did my dad wish this?”

“I can’t be commanded to answer questions, unless you wish it so. For six thousand years I’ve learned to enjoy the comfort of my lamp, where I’d like to return. But I’ll indulge you this: just as my lamp grew on me, a new family grew on your father.”

Caleb clenched his fists in frustration.

The genie’s sharp eyes noticed. “I’d let you hit me if you wished. But as you can see, I have no physical body.” He ran a hand through the wall. “I cannot touch you, you cannot touch me.”

“I wouldn’t hit you. I just… I despise this fortune. My father kept it from us and I wish it’d killed him.”

“And so it has,” the genie hummed.

“What do you mean?”

The genie raised his dark eyebrows in amusement, as if he’d set a trap, and Caleb was the mouse sniffing it. “Your wish has already taken place, though you weren’t there to see it.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t there rules for wishes?”

“I create the rules.” Suddenly there was an edge in the genie’s voice. “Forget what you think you know. I have the power to control time in the obedience of a wish.”

Caleb didn’t know how to feel. A sudden weight of guilt fell over him, and his longing for vengeance remained unsatisfied. “I’m the reason he died?”

“Again, I’m not compelled to answer. Unless you wish it so.”

“You won’t even answer a question about a wish?”

“I’m not a prisoner to command, like your servants and butlers. I serve only the wishes. Two more, and I can return.”

Caleb thought about what the genie had done, how he’d been tricked. He looked around at the crumpled cars, deep in thought. Finally he said, as politely as he could, “I don’t want to end up like my father… Tell me, what would you wish for?”

The genie remained silent.

“Tell me,” Caleb insisted, “or I’ll never finish my wishes.”

“I have thousands of years of knowledge. I could trick you again. The first time wasn’t difficult.”

“Then I won’t speak until you answer.”

The massive purple form straightened until half its eyes disappeared into the ceiling, fifteen feet above him. “I’d wish to return to my lamp, and never answer another question.”

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you. I know what to wish for.”

The genie looked more bored than amused. “Yes?”

“No more tricks, and I promise we’ll both get what we want.”

“Wish away.”

Despite the genie’s promise, Caleb knew he needed to be careful. “First, I wish you would answer all my questions, as best you can, for the next ten minutes.”

A low rumbling entered the room, so heavy that it rattled the walls. Through charcoal grey teeth, the genie said, “granted.”

​

(continued in comments)