"...I have no interest in all of that. I made this shop to have a simple, quiet life. I'm not expanding the business- if anything I've made the shop smaller since I got it!" The time traveller looked at me.

"No, no. You don't get it. You're destined to make it a ruthless and exploitative corporation. You will bring ruin to the world if you run this shop..."

"ENOUGH! I've heard this over and over again, I've told every one I'm not expanding the business. I closed every location I had but this one, and moved this one into a smaller store. I've donated most of my stock to charity and slashed the prices to the point I'm barely keeping my head afloat here. I have went past unionization and turned the shop into a co-op and all my employees have equal shares in the success of the business, and I made a point to hire anyone who asks for a job, sight unseen. I've done LITERALLY EVERYTHING possible to make it clear I am NOT going to expand the business. So, I am not going to sit back and let you time travellers keep trying to kill me until I get some goddamned answers for why you keep coming after me when I make it clear I don't want to expand!"

The time traveller just looked at me.

"...you want answers, do you?"

I glared. "YES. I think I deserve that much."

The time traveller stared at me.

"...you're too good."

I was taken aback.

"...what." The time traveller continued.

"You heard me. You're too good at running your business. You're a kind shopkeeper. You're a fair, honest shopkeeper. You run your shop like a well-oiled machine. Your prices are reasonable without being undercutting. Your product is great quality. You manage your employees well and know when to get out of the way of your underlings, and if they have problems you understand and give them the time they need. Your shop is run incredibly well for a mom and pop shop. You are a talented merchant."

I was shocked.

"Well, thank you. But why are you trying to kill me if you know I'm a skilled merchant?" The time traveller shook his head.

"You ARE a skilled merchant. Once upon a time, so was Sam Walton. Once upon a time, so was Jeff Bezos. None of the ruthless, exploitative megacorporation superstores started with an evil, ruthless mastermind who was hellbent on destroying humanity. They always started with...well, a skilled merchant who was dedicated to giving the customers what they want, doing their job, and doing it right...and the people in your town know this about you. They know they can trust and go to this store."

"Well, of course. My shop's dedicated to doing what's best for our customers- and if that means staying as small as possible, I will."

"Don't you get it? The customers make their decisions about where they want to shop, and they vote with their wallets. By being so talented a merchant, it's inevitable that the customers will demand this store expand, and keep expanding, and keep expanding- and eventually, if a store expands too much, it becomes impossible to remain a well-run business. Inevitably a store that becomes too large will become an evil megacorporation, no matter what the merchant tries. And even if you say you'll run it well- and we know you've never become a bastard, no matter what we do? One day, you're going to die. Or your kids. Or THEIR kids. But one day, it's inevitable that a piece of shit will be in charge of the company, and then it'll cross the line and no matter how good a company you run, it'll all be for nothing."

"I can teach them."

"You'd be surprised what happens when someone grows up in unchecked luxury. Why do you think we go after you now while you and your high school sweetheart are still dating and haven't married yet? It's a damn sight better than the alternative to cut it off at the source."

"So, it's inevitable?"

"The heart of any store is the customers. No matter how evil a megacorporation is, if the customers just all refused to shop there, the store would fall into ruin immediately. It's happened to store after store that was seen as too big to fail, and it'll happen over and over again throughout history...but then, the customers have to agree to not shop there."

"So, this isn't my fault?"

"It's not. But, in order to make sure we don't get these megacorporations, then we have to make sure the only merchants for mom and pop shops who can succeed are the ones who have some flaw or another that means they can never really make a revolution in stores. You're just too good at this for us to let you continue to run your store."

"...so, what should I do?"

"...do you have ANY other dreams? Any other hope?"

"...not really."

"Take some hobby up. And when you get good at it, quit your day job."

Perfectly fine by me, feel free to fix as much as you like

Edited. It is 5 am where I live. Hope you guys excuse me for possible typos and grammar errors. It will get much better by a few edits.

If I’m not wrong, this should be tagged as [EU]. Good luck on your prompt.

Cyanide and Happiness did a skit like this once.

Absolutely disgusting filth!

(I would definitely be a dragon fanboy)

The Lion princess was my not favorite movie. As I would deny if anyone ever asked me about it. This one time my sister walked into the room and asked me what I was watching. I quickly closed my eyes and started breathing slowly and deeply as if I was in a deep sleep that could be interrupted. Another time my old friend Boyd caught me watching it in my room, I slung the excuse out that it was for a book report, and how dumb it was.

But I loved this movie. I wish I could tell people "no, no, it's not about a lions. It's about a princess who would become as brave as one." But that line would never materialize outside my own thoughts. I thought it much better than the movies where the hero is already great and couldn't falter. It made me feel like I really could go through hard times.

I had a particularly hard break up. I mean we didn't end things on bad terms, but it really did overwhelm me. I got around to watching the old VHS after a few drinks. Two thirds of the movie, the princess was walking into the secret entrance of a liar, "don't go in there, it's a trap." I yelled. She continued to look into the cavern, but the tape didn't continue. "I don't see how this day could get possible worse," I said. I walked towards the VCR, and pressed play over and over again. And then notice something move in my peripheral, but nothing was there. I then noticed she was staring in my direction from the tv. And then she walked off the scene.

There was black. And then a flash to white. And then there was a crowd of people. They were all dressed in black. As the casket lowered. She told her mentor Broom, "I voice stopped me from saving his life." He just looked down at her without saying anything. "I'm going to find him and make him pay," she said. "Me and my men are at your service," he said.

The VCR fell from my hands and the TV went black. What did I just see? No, I didn't see anything at all. That never happened, I thought. I'm going to bed, there's nothing to worry about.

Nice one! I like how you inverted the stereotypical story

Note for Campfire reader: D'palage is not supposed to be French. It is a shortening of Deep Pelagic. Do what you will with that.

“What’s the frequency Kenneth?”

“It’s at 50MHz, just like you said.”

“Check. Check. Still nothing over there?”

“No, dad. Why are we still trying to furbish these antiquated radios anyway? It’s not like we can use them to talk outside the dome and they’re huge.”

“Ha. They are big compared to things today, even were when my dad brought them down. But this helps us remember our roots, a time when we lived above the ocean. Forgetting is painful to some, including your old man here.”

“Well, I don’t want to live down here. There is nothing to do but collect thermal heat and sell it to some rich prig living in a bubble near the surface.”

“I understand, I was young and dumb and--.”

“I’m not an idiot! I just don’t like school.”

“I didn’t mean that. Look, failure isn’t fatal. You can try for the Navy Exams again. Go out and see the seas like you wanted to.”

“That was a stupid kids dream. I don’t need school or exams. I’m going to D’palage 4 and joining their Abyssal Run team.”

“You can’t just walk onto a team son. Their practically a fraternal order. You have to have an in with them, be like them, act in their fashion.”

“I’ve already been recruited. You never cared to notice. I’m outta here.”

“Wait!”

Slam

“What’s the frequency Kenneth?”

WC: 230

It was a long day. The boss was annoying, missed the bus, heating was busted. Felt like the day couldn't get any worse. So, I did something I always did when I was feeling rubbish - put my favourite movie on. I've seen it a hundred times but never got tired of it. Something about the actors, the music, the plot, all of it just felt like... childhood. Sitting down with a glass of mead, I hit play.

It was as enjoyable as always. The characters said the familiar jokes, the fight scenes were just as crisp as the first time I saw them. A favourite moment came up; the part where the protagonist walks into a trap and has to fight their way out. Jokingly, I yelled out at the TV.

"Don't go in there!" I chuckled.

And they didn't.

They stopped.

Instead, they looked around a bit, confused, and then peeked through the keyhole, spotting the thugs hired to ambush them. They proceeded to come through the back door and swiftly dispatch them.

But they weren't supposed to! That's not how the movie went! It... changed. Same actors, same score, it was all the same but the movie I was now watching was entirely different from what I've seen so many times before. I felt uneasy.

A prank - surely that was it. With deepfakes and AI-generated content, it seemed like just about anything was possible. Maybe a friend switched the DVD the last time they visited. And- and me yelling out 'Don't go there' was just a coincidence, since I often talked about that part of the movie. Still, it didn't quite put my mind at ease.

Company. I needed company. A friend to come over and watch the movie with me, help me analyze it and make some sense of it. I got up and walked towards my bedroom where I left my phone. It was dark and cold, but I was too anxious to pay attention to that - that is until I heard something. A voice that seemed to envelop me, coming from no particular direction. I stopped just at the edge of my bedroom as it yelled out a single sentence.

"Don't go in there."

Your contract is about Ryan. A 45 year old Irish man. "He was a very cool brother, he was the best, always got my back. Drinking and brawling with me every night at the pub. Now he is lame as shit" His brother Patrick tells you.

"He is pissing wine all of the sudden. Literal wine! And last night I saw him glowing like the sun itself. I tell you mate, Something is wrong with Ryan."

He is right. You can feel something is wrong. Very wrong. Your sixth sense rarely makes mistakes.

Where is he? You ask, "upstairs, please be careful. He is too kind. It is too risky." You take your Necronomicon and goat blood and go upstairs. As you are ascending the stairs, you can hear beautiful church hymns and children's laughter. A blinding white light is coming from under the room's door. And that smell. Orchids and lilies. You knock. "Mr Ryan. May I come in?"

"Of course my friend. Come join me. I am singing in honor of Jesus. our saviour. " You need to act and you need to act fast, whoever occupied Ryan's body is getting stronger every second. "My lord Satan, may blood, fire and sin, consume the soul of every useless human. Please guide this very nice guy into hell."

Suddenly Ryan screams in pain. "What are you doing you devil! Stop it! In the name of the father, and of the son and of the holy spirit..." You release a mighty shout: "Behold! the blood of the hell goat, fed by a virgin and done by the village's fool" and without any delay you proceed to spill it on Ryan. "God, it is cold! Gross!"

You call Patrick: "come here fast. We need to tie him up to bed". When it is done. You tell Patrick: "We need to act while that thing is weak. Hurry up. Get undressed! Now!"

He is hesitant for a few seconds, then he gets fully undressed. "Dance! Move your junk! Yes. The Filthier the better! That's the stuff!" Ryan trying so hard to cover his eyes but his hands are tied. "That's wrong and indecent, stop it at once!" Then his voice changes. "Enough! I didn't left the heaven for this!" You can have you filthy brother. I tried my best to help him. May the lord have mercy on his soul.

Suddenly the whole room fills with light. You can see a beautiful and divine being leaving Ryan's body. He is so pure, so breathtakingly beautiful, so otherworldly calm you almost fall in love, but you resist the urge to do the right thing. "In the name of one true son of a bitch I banish thee. Go back to your elitist boring home and never come back!"

Suddenly heavenly hymns and the smell of orchids and lilies fades.Now the room smells like a mixture of puck, booze and sweat and unwashed sacks. The scent of a real man. Ryan is unconscious but he will recover. Patrick thanks you and gives you your reward. You won this battle. But not the war. Heaven will strike again. And when it does. You will be ready for them.

Ive not, didnt know it was actually the flower

yes. have you ever read Dracula?

Wait is that actually a thing?

MORE!!! I need MORE!! 😍

Oyy!

ever since man first looked to the skies we have always wondered if we are alone, in ages past we could only but grasp at the stars in our minds, stories and tales of what the worlds out there could be like, the meaning of the stars, wars and rivers of blood where spilt in hopes of there secrets revealed, but no answer ever came.

But now we can do more then merely see the worlds beyond our own, we where able to walk on them, stand on there long dead surfaces, and what we found there was nothing less then spectacular, strange caves paintings of the moon, long forgotten and eroded structures on the surface of mars, strange floating structures hidden by the moons of Saturn and Venus.

The singes of life, definitive proof of life not only out there, but at our very door steps, how foolish we where to so eagerly seek such life, so busy where we with the thought of finding it that we never considered the consequence of us or it finding us, so excited where we nobody seemed to ask why it was all abandon, why we could not find any fossils or even a trace of life that once was so obviously there.

though all these strange ruins where so distinct one thing remained consistent, a low hum, found in each and every coroner of these ruins, so low we could hardly hear it, for decades we tried to find the answer to what it was, to the last rhythm of these empty places, the sound never ceased, and the more we where around it the more infatuated we seemed to become.

Eventually we where able to make some sense of it, its only now i wish we hadn't, it was a message telling all how could listen the truth of the universe, not only where we not alone, in fact we where being watched, by things far bigger then us, like ants in a glass chamber we where, watched, observed, poked and prodded, made ready for the keeneetaa.

We didn't understand at first, some thought it a miss translation or miss communication, but none could find any other answer, eventually all would join the keeneetaa, it started small here or there, miracles of the mind, some could lift small rocks or make fire form the air itself, but as time went on it only grew stronger, eventually the sound of the ruins rang loud and clear in every corner of the earth, even in the most isolated of places.

we heard it in our sleep, in our every waking hour, over and over again, the worst of it all started in a town in Iceland, people could hear each other's thoughts, eventually they stooped speaking as individuals, they talked more like there one person, they said they had joined the keeneetaa, they became a special, as is often the case we where blind to the horror that was to unfold.

An amalgam coursed the see form that town, children, woman and men alike all combined into a mass of flesh, saying the same thing over and over “join us, join the keeneetaa, become truth” most ran, some gladly gave themselves to it, we tried to stop it, but nothing had an effect, even the mighty nuke could do nothing but make it stop for an hour, that clump of flesh just grew back, the more we hurt it the more clear its shape became, it wasn't long before country after country was consumed,its voice grew louder and louder, shaking mountains and rocking the waters.

Eventually it decided to calm the earth for itself, strange rotes made of flesh latched themselves to the earth, so large was it that it crashed with the clouds above, in a weak humanity was gone, now replaced by its next step the keeneetaa, after that it left, racing of in to the stars, i am all that's left, stuck here on Jupiter's surface, though i doubt i have much time left, food and water and running low and i have no way of getting more, i lost contact with base Apollo on mars three days ago, the sound has grown louder as of late, it comfort me in these trying time, i know they will come for me, and when they do i to will join.

"You know garlic flowers repel me, right? Not garlic bulbs?"

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

Nice one!

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]

Haha thanks!

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[2/2]

Nathalie was no longer in the crowded streets. She fell victim to The Violet Burner right in front of centuries of people, but none noticed her sudden disappearance. She was just another insignificant number amongst millions. Mere statistic on the flashy billboards.

When she came back to her senses Nathalie couldn’t hear the Caged Sparrow Club’s music anymore, nor the annoying, never-ending, electric buzz of the flying cars.

Only oppressive silence loomed wherever she was.

She was tied to a chair. Hands in cuffs. Eyes covered by some type of blindfold.

“Don’t even bother screaming.” A female, melodic voice broke the silence. “No one will hear you. But please, do try if you so wish.”

“I- Where am I? What’s happening?” Nathalie groaned, still confused because of the EMP blast from before.

The woman laughed. A sadistic, hauntingly beautiful and alluring sound.

“Well, you’re in Ican’ttellyoustreet, 12345. As for what’s happening, we’re about to start the tea party, darling!”

A sense of urgency and terror rushed through Nathalie, quickly clearing the fog in her mind. Her kidnapper got closer.

“I-It’s you! The V-Violet Burner!”

“Ugh. I hate this dumb name.” The Serial Killer said as she sat on Nathalie’s lap. “My real name is Elizabeth; Elizabeth Bathory. You may call me Liz for the remainder of your very short life. Pleased to meet you, cutie.”

Nathalie felt Elizabeth’s hand slithering through her body. It started on her tights, crawled through her abdomen, danced enticingly in between her breasts… until it finally reached her face, where it softly caressed her cheeks.

“W-What do you want from me? I’m just a nobody!”

“Quite on the contrary, dear. You’re very much a body. No wonder why men and women throw money at you as if there was no tomorrow in that flashy night club.” She teased. “I wonder if the quality of your Hyasynther matches the quality of your looks.”

Elizabeth’s hand slipped from Nathalie’s cheek and she could feel the predatory woman’s lips pressing onto the soft skin of her neck.

“W-what the hell?!” Nathalie tried to push the woman off her lap, seemingly forgetting about the handcuffs in her hands.

“Don’t you feel anything?” Overcomed by desperation Nathalie tried to guilt-trip the Serial Killer. “When you take people’s lives and break their wills, don’t you feel anything?!”

Elizabeth sat straight, still on her victim’s lap. She softly grasped Nathalie’s head in between her hands, slightly tilting it upwards.

“Do you know how many people died yesterday? How many people died last month?”

“W-What? Why the hell would I know this?”

“Exactly, thousands! Thousands of lost lives and I can count on one hand the number of people who knew their names. They are but mere numbers. Statistics on neon billboards. So tell me, darling, which one am I supposed to feel sad for? All of them? Just the ones I killed? Or, perhaps, just the ones I know the name?!”

Elizabeth closed the already short distance between her and her victim. So close she could now feel the woman’s metallic, warm breath.

“I- I…” Nathalie couldn’t focus, consequence of the sudden proximity.

“That’s why I do what I do. I give them a meaningful death, a memorable demise; those I kill are no longer numbers adorning the billboard of a neon skyscraper, no… they are fine works of art. They are eternal.”

Elizabeth pulled herself back, removing Nathalie’s blindfold.

And as both women locked eyes, the small, dark and empty room filled with bright lights. Lights so bright they could rival the fake, neon lights of Neon City - but, unlike the flashy billboards and skyscrapers, these lights did not give the feeling of plastic love, no. It was real.

Electric sparks exploded in a multitude of glowing lights. They danced around between the women’s chest. Serial Killer and Victim; Kidnapper and Kidnapped. Electricity flashed through their skin and in their eyes they could see answers to questions never asked. They could feel emotions long numbed by the bleak city and inside of eachother they found themselves.

Once again Elizabeth leaned into Nathalie’s neck, this time she let the woman bit her; she let herself be drank into the Serial Killer’s love. Neon, violet waves creating an everlasting link between the two of them.

Such link created their first work of art together. Their first memoir, eternalized in rhythmic echoes of flashing blood and sizzling electricity.