You would think, wouldn't you, that you'd want as little bad stuff in the previous lives as possible? Most people think that what employers are looking for is the most basic, milquetoast person they can find - means they won't commit a crime again, right? Not so.

See, what they're looking for is a pattern. Your last five lives, have things been getting better or worse? Reincarnation is a massive cycle, a rolling wheel of death and rebirth - but some scientist at a fancy university said that you could tell with 70% accuracy which way the wind was blowing for a person. There were two kinds of people - those going up towards heaven and those going down towards hell.

I rubbed the card in my pocket with my thumb. The lamination had already begun to peel from its surface from my constant worrying. Maybe soon I could rub it all the way off, and I'd finally get a job.

... Not likely. They'd print me a new one. The last five lives were on my birth certificate anyways, divined from putting the placenta through some machine. I sighed, and headed in through the door.

"Mr. Patel," the lady at the counter said, flashing me a brilliant smile. You only got a smile that good from years of customer service, plastering a smile on even when you wanted to bash someone's head in. "Please, take a seat."

I took a seat across from the lady, watching as she shuffled her papers. There was a bit of a tell to these HR types - I knew I'd already lost the job.

"L1 was a businessman, I see. A lot of donations to charity," she said. L1 - your first past life. He must have been trying to drag our collective karma up as much as he could with the money he'd made. I didn't think it'd worked.

"L2, a firefighter, L3, a war hero," she continued, the same spiel I'd heard a hundred times before. I braced myself for the next two.

"Then an orphanage caretaker... And our first president," she said, delicately.

She couldn't say she was disqualifying me because of it. But she was. Of course she was. It should have been an honour to be reincarnated from him, but no - these people were convinced that these things would even out in time. That some equally horrendous crime would occur in my lifetime before the cycle could put itself back into sync.

"We regret to inform you that due to the morality quotas placed upon all multinational corporations..." she began. I tuned out. I'd heard it all before.

"Perhaps we'll meet again in the next cycle," she said, cheerily.

"Yeah. Of course," I said, numb to her words. I left the office behind me, shaking my head.

"Could've left some luck for me, Henil," I murmured to the statue in the city square. Of course, he just stood there. Silent, unmoving, as he had for decades.

I shook my head and kept moving. There had to be some other place that'd hire me. And if not, well, there was always next cycle.

I question why the first thought if scientists was “this proves the existence of a god” rather than colonization in the distant past. The second is a far more logical conclusion as it is far more plausible than saying I don’t know so god did it (at least that is how it reads to me). Other than that, an interesting story.

Mortals think I offer games as a kind of last request. The reason varies: last requests on their end, some misunderstanding that winning will return them to life, or even something as simple as boredom on my part. You may ask how my job could be boring, but that's easy to answer. I have to handle every soul one by one, and time shuffles itself like a deck of cards so that even if two mortals die at exactly the same time they still arrive on my doorstep in order and alone. As soon as I finish preparing and sending off one soul, the next comes through. Thus, the job ends up feeling the same, and I get bored.

Thankfully human games have gotten better over the years, more complex. I've played dice with pirates and Roman militants, cards with western gunslingers and French revolutionaries, chess with countless nobles. Long forgotten games dug up by archaeologists are always a fun classic, and they get so excited to finally learn the rules of ancient board games nobody (frustratingly) ever bothered to write down the rules for. In the most recent age, electronic games with screens and buttons of all shapes and sizes have become popular.

I've been challenged on arcade cabinets that feature fighting tournaments and street racing, console games with both story and mindless fun, and computer games featuring strategy and an unfathomably massive library of mods for every game those inventive programmers can get their hands on.

The most recent soul is another painfully young one, and my ancient heart aches even after guiding so many of them. I offer a comforting smile to the child as I kneel down to get eye-to-eye with him.

"Welcome, child," I start, bowing my head as my smooth baritone voice gently rumbles the ground. Singers frequently challenged me as well and I'd yet to disappoint. "This is a crossroads for the soul, and I am a humble guide. Take as long as you need to get your feet under yourself and be ready to move on. If you would like, we may play a game of your choosing before such a time comes to pass."

"Guess that answers if the surgery went alright or not," the boy said, smiling sadly at me. "There's no way to go back? They'll all be so sad now." I raised my head to look at him.

"Where you tread from this place is not up to me, but none may return whence they came. I am sorry, but one wish of many I cannot grant is to return the life you have lost." The boy thought on this for a moment.

"... Then, could I play a game with you? I had a Minecraft world I was working on, but I never got to finish it." My smile was much easier to wear at this, and I chuckled.

"It would be my pleasure. Let us play and build for a while. Would you prefer with mods or without?" Fate has a funny way of being cruel to the undeserving, but i try my best to make up for it after she takes her due. That boys laughter warmed the walls of my home more than any fire could ever hope to as we dug and built for hours. I hope the path he walks after leaving will be a pleasant one.

Congrats, OP, you killed the MC before even the author got to him!

Caesura

Eight hundred miles of road, and now this.

The wards were floundering, or down entirely. Electricity off. Water disconnected. Dusty trails on everything. But it was home, even if Gladys had to force the door open against an entire freight of mail. At least feeding the fireplace would be easy.

But one package caught her eye. Small, palm-sized. Brown. No addresses, just a curious symbol and a signature: "Fanfaronade".

Gladys didn't like that symbol. It had fervor. Excitement and fluent magic, in all the bad ways. But it was midnight and her bed called.

She left it downstairs.

Plotting.

​

WC: 99

« Back | 9 | Next »

I look forward to seeing YOLO depicted as a crackpot theory. :)

According to Christian mythology, all demons started as angels.

Thank you 🙏 for letting me know I transmites the tragedy properly. Sorry I made it sad.

Poor guy XD

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.

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.

Hahaha

[removed]

The cafe was a cacophony of noise - the clatter of plates, the hiss of the coffee machine, the chatter of customers. The four vampire hunters slipped inside, their eyes scanning the crowd. They looked like any other group of friends catching up over coffee.

"Snake, make sure no one gives him permission to leave," said Owl.

"Got it," Snake replied as she scanned the room.

The vampire sat at a corner table in the bustling cafe, sipping his coffee and tapping away on his sleek MacBook. He wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans, looking like any other young professional in the city. His jet-black hair was styled neatly, and his sharp features were almost handsome. But there was something about his piercing gaze that made him seem otherworldly. A red pendant hung from his neck. It was a double-edged sword - an enchanted device that allowed him to dwell without thirst for blood and protected him from daylight's wrath but also revealed his nature to anyone who knew its purpose.

The hunters ordered coffee and began chatting while keeping an eye on the vampire. After about half an hour, he finished his third cup of coffee, then stood up and made to leave the cafe.

Snake suddenly cried, "Everyone, look at me and say 'no'!"

It seemed like a silly plan, but it was one that experience had taught her worked. The other patrons looked at her curiously but did as they were told. The vampire reached for the door handle but couldn't turn it. He tried again but still couldn't leave.

"Gotcha," said Owl softly as they quickly surrounded the vampire. The vampire hissed, so Owl leaned into him and whispered, "Resist, and we will kill everyone in this cafe. We would rather keep a low profile, so I hope you don't push us to that option."

The vampire stiffened, but he made no moves.

Owl smiled. "Good choice. Now, follow us and be on your best behavior, understand?"

He nodded. They led him outside, the other patrons still looking on in confusion.

As they led him to the van they'd arrived in, the vampire hissed, "Vardic sent you, didn't he? You're wasting your time; I'll run away again. I'm not going to kill for him."

Owl shrugged. "Not our problem. We only do the job we're paid for."

"So you're hired hunts? Who are you people?"

"The Band of Night."

The vampire's brow furrowed. "Never heard of you."

"Good."

the part 2 of this story is out

You can check my personal sub for more of my other works, as well as any continuation of this one, which is fairly likely to happen as I like the characters and scenario.

"Mine... Craft?" I asked.

"Minecraft!" The sickly child gushed excitedly, "It's this really awesome game where you can build anything such as castles and wizard towers and get to kill the ultimate Ender Dragon in order to beat the game! Oh, wait, you probably don't know what Ender Dragon are if you don't even know what Minecraft is. So basically, Ender Dragon is this humongous dragon that you have to find by using a Dragon Stronghold.., Well, you seem like someone who has seen millions of dragons before, and dragons are pretty old. Mister, are you a boomer?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Boo-oo-mer." relishing the feeling of the weird word in my mouth,

"Cmon!" The child groaned. "You don't even know what a 'boomer' is? No offence mister, but everybody knows what a boomer is! You have to be at least like a thouusaand years old to not know what a boomer is, but mum said that it was impolite to call people boomers so I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

A child's innocence can only last so long.

I stared at the child, and he stared back at me with those curious, probing eyes. It is a nice change to come across an innocent soul from all the corrupted souls in the afterlife. But a soul can only have so much innocence after witnessing one of the many 'gifts' of life.

"A child has asked to play the game Mine Craft, and so he shall. But a man is curious as to know the reason why a child would want to play the game Mine Craft."

"Firstly, quit calling me a child! I just reached my double digits and learnt my multiplication table, I'm practically considered an adult! Secondly, to answer your question, my mum bought me Minecraft after we learnt that I had this stomach illness that made me have to lose my hair. It was sad to see my hair go, but at least I didn't have to wash it every single day. I promised mum that she would see me beat Minecraft after my illness went away, but I guess I broke my promise..."

The boy pursed his lips as if he was struggling to make a decision.

"Can I trust you with a secret, mister?

"A boy may tell me any secret that he wishes to reveal."

"Do you promise not to tell a single soul?"

"A man promises not to utter a secret to a single soul."

The boy then held out his hand, and in the most peculiar manner, stuck out his pinky and thumb, making a telephone sign.

"What is it that a boy wishes for me to do?"

"We have to intertwine pinkies and press our thumbs together to make sure that you won't break your promise, or else bad stuff will happen to you."

I awkwardly intertwined our pinkies together and pressed my thumb against his. From the corner of my eye, I could see the boy shaking his head disapprovingly as if he had never seen such incompetence before.

"Mum blamed my illness on dad because according to her, he was a good-for-nothing nobody who turned me really sick in order for me to die. Mum hated dad's guts, and I guess she wanted me to hate him too, but how could I hate my dad when he takes me out on 'Only-Bro-Fridays'? Besides, isn't it like a sin in the bible to hate your parents?"

The boy paused. His face was damp and was strewed with big, fat tears. 'But I couldn't really tell that to mum or else she'll get mad again like how she did last time. And the last time she got mad at me I was so scared, it was as if she wasn't mum anymore"

I listened as he poured out his life story to me, detail by detail, and made sure to commit every single word to memory. It would be a waste to forget a story that someone trusted you with. I felt a burning sensation at the back of my throat as I looked at his childish face. His eyes sparkled as he told me about his life's achievements, and dimmed as he recounted arguments between his parents. And I wondered how such a cheerful, little boy withstood years of pain that an adult could barely go through without even a chink in his armour of innocence.

"Maybe it was my fault all along, my parents' divorce, I mean. But as long-"

His face suddenly lit up, and he instantly turned into a ball of joy. "Oh wait! Did you hear about the new Minecraft update? I heard that we got some new materials to build with.., Mister, are you gonna play or not?"

I looked at the boy, a flaming ball of happiness. I couldn't help but smile as he locked eyes with me as to intimidate me.

"A man is grateful to be able to play with a boy."

[removed]

…Imma stay away from colt

2nd one indeed. makes you wonder about the 1st one, doesn't it. Should try my hand at TwoSentenceHorror.

Gods created men, but Colt made them equal. All are equal in death.

This was great, GD! Very existential. Small thing—I got a little lost on the quickening part. May just be a me thing

[removed]

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

prepare to get ressurected as an undead after death

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