This makes so much sense

Seatac, Tacoma... hmm, then there's the space needle and Point Defiance, and definitive confirmation that our narrator is a Washingtonian. Nice, I like seeing my home state appear in stories.

It got dusty out here all of sudden. Maybe the pollen? Is someone cutting onions?

Glass houses in rainy swamps (must rhyme)

Thank God, they're gone. They were entirely too rough. I kept telling them that I would come with them and the tape and the zip tie was overkill. It's like they had never heard those words before. It's like they thought I was mocking them?

The room is dark, but the glow from the light outside shines through the crack under the door. This isn't the kind of darkness where people lose their minds. It's peaceful.

People always tell me I should try meditating. Who has the time for that? That's just slotted "think about things" time. It's an insane concept. Sitting and not thinking? How do you even do that? There isn't enough time in the day to just sit and think much less sit and try and not think. Seriously, how do you relax with no thoughts? I haven't been relaxed since I was born and even that event, sounds extremely taxing. How am I supposed to schedule time off to ponder when I have so many other things to attend too.

I should be questioning why I'm here, but that isn't top of mind. I'm so tired. It's been a long day and an even longer evening. My wrists hurt. The blow up matres and the plane pillow and blanket they have provided me will do the trick. I fall asleep almost instantly.

I'll try and figure out the meditation thing tomorrow, if that day comes.

The last hope to destroy the meteor hurtling towards Earth.

Thank you! I bent the prompt a little- but I would find it funny if the god gave the 7 year old a credit card.

This one was hard very hard so I went for something where the topics are implied

The man who dies with secrets is a good friend

The man who dies with his riches is evil.

Red is the color of love

Diamonds are the gem of love

Who ever smelt it dealt it

Finders are not keepers

The dance is fun

The animal is scary

My love is pure

Your hate is stronger

Contrast a sunrise with a sunset, through metaphor, and without using the words "sun", "set", or "rise".

I like to talk about writing and ideas and themes! And I got excited about it- and I usually don't see others do the same, I wish they did, so when I do it, it feels very self centered.

I like the idea of the over arching family in the background, the tree was a way for the family to redeem themselves or just prove they still see their daughter as property, like they would an object. You reap what you sow. If this were to be a longer story I would have the family turn up to visit every now and then, talk about the tree, become more lax, starting to treat the God less like a God and more of a son in law, demanding, expecting things, which he does for the sake of his "wife" who still loves her family, but grows to understand that some people are goddamn terrible.

And I was stuck on what the girls character was, inquisitive, but not studious, not adventurous, and for a while emotionally stunted. She might come to belive that the god does see her as property because of her parents influance, or a more complex house plant, not a student, ward or daughter. She might have a fear she'll be abandoned once she's no longer a child, her angst teen phase that of resentment and sadness.

I think I will run with this, and try and post more when I have time. I'm stealing time at work right now.

This is beautifully written.

When you said 'life of Brian', my first thought was of the Monty Python movie of the same name. It's hilarious. I unthinkingly pulled the name Brian off the top of my head. But now that I think of it, the name is rather fitting in that context, although in a modern, slightly edgy scenario. Maybe I will write more about 'Brian the god of unwitting stupidity'.

Gilgamesh lamenting Enkidu.

Sunrise. Just get to another sunrise. It is the only time I am myself. Exhaustion punishes me as I place one foot in front of the other and rise from my bed. You can do this. My reflection looks back at me, skepticism scrawled all over the features of the woman in the mirror. Who was she? I could have sworn I knew her once, yet the old lady looking back at me was not the idealist, social work major fresh from an evening of partying with her friends, all of us convinced we’d save the world. No, the woman looking back at me was set for a day of Linkedin corporate training webinars, looking through resumes of the recently graduated hopefuls, and starting correspondence with “I hope this email finds you well.”

Nothing ever found me well.

At sunrise I was still me. I was not a corporate stooge. I was not a mother of children who only ate half their lunches and came home “starving” from school. At sunrise there was still a chance that this day would be different.

It never was.

It never would be.

It would end the same way all the others did, with me crawling into bed, painted in layers upon layers of expectations. I would drown in all their expectations one day. Pour into me all your concerns, memos, blame for cutting your sandwich the wrong way, guilt for not earning enough, being educated enough, savvy enough to navigate this world I never asked for. Be the receptacle for all their dreams and agendas. What was that? You are tired? Why not just get more sleep? Ha!

Nose to the grindstone. The American dream will be yours one day. One day the sun will rise and you will bloom into who you should have been all along. You’ve only been playing a character so far. This can’t be your life. This can’t be my life.

I want to go home.

The world will keep turning without you. Who needs you? No one. This sunrise isn’t for you. Blink and you can be replaced. No one would miss you.

Footsteps in the hallway feel like weights settling around my feet, dragging me under. The sun was risen and it was time to start another day.

“Mama?” A small voice and its small little arms wrap around me. One more day. He brings me out of my room. I can do this. One of his small steps at time. I can do this again.

I would do this again. And again. And again.

But one day, the sunrise would be mine.

Springtime at the Metropolitan Opera.

A noblewoman forms a plot to get her best friend married to her brother so they can be sisters. Happy ending please.

Farting Snakes Wasting Rubies

so like the CIA but for superheroes

Light broke through the small window into the tiny room. Bits of dust floated through the light, falling like snow. The little boy shifted up higher in his bed to peek over the window sill just a little bit more. The sweat rolling down his temples seemed to glisten. “So I’ll be like the birds?” he wheezed out.

“Mhmm…” said a tall pale man. He wore a long black trench coat, unbuttoned to expose his black suit. He passed from the door of the room to the foot of the bed. Standing just inches from the rays of light that swept over the little boy in his bed. “Do you hear them out there?”, he asked. “Each one of them calling to their friends, they fly so high sometimes, not even I can see them.”

The little boy twisted his mouth. “I don’t know if I want to fly that high, and I have friends here. Will I be able to play with them?”

The man lowered his head and ran a finger along the foot board. He looked up with a soft smile and said, “No… no i’m afraid you won’t. It’s not quite their time yet. You’ll see them again though… one day.” The look of sadness was set deep in the man’s eyes.

“But what about brother and sister? What about kitty?” asked the little boy.

“Mmm… i’m afraid you’ll have to wait on them too. I know… I know it seems scary, but you’ll see them before you know it.” The man came around to the side of the bed; between the little boy and the window. He pulled the chair from the corner and set down, careful to not bunch up his coat. He clasped his hands together and looked at the ground between his legs before looking up again.

“You know… everyone dies. It happens for every person and animal. It’s what makes life special. Your brother and sister, kitty, and your parents will all die too one day. They’ll fly away too, and that’s when you’ll see them again.”

The little boy started to softly cry. “I don’t want them to die! Please don’t let them die!” Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Oh no…” the man reached out and gently grabbed the little boys arm. He gave the little boy a soft smile and continued. “It’s okay, that’s what makes it special.”

“It makes what special?” asked the little boy through sobs.

“Life, it makes life special. We all only have so many days. If people never died then no one would know what’s important.” said the man. “ They are so special because you love them, and because they love you. It is why someone hurts so much when someone they love dies. It’s hard to say goodbye. You will not feel anything. In fact you’ll feel much better.” The man looked out the window and then back at the boy.

“When will I see them again?” asked the little boy. The last of his tears hanging to his chin. The man reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the tears from the boys chin with a smile.

“Some you’ll see sooner than others. You won’t even know how long it will be though. You’ll be having so much fun.” the man neatly folded the handkerchief on his thigh and put it back in his breast pocket. “When you see them again it will feel like only a days time I promise. You’ll fly so high and be with so many others.”

“Do they play games like me and sister?” squeaked the little boy. His eyes wide with curiosity.

“Mmm, I can’t say I know if they do play games. I’ve never been there myself…” the man’s smile slipped to a frown and the look of longing eked across his face, but only for a moment. He regained his composure and continued. “What I do know, is that way up there they can see the whole world. They can see all the mountains and valleys. They can fly across all the oceans and see all the wonderful places and people in this world. Doesn’t that sound like a fun adventure? Then one day, everyone you love will be up there with you. Then you can all see the world together.”

The little boy turned his eyes back to the window. His eyes red and puffy. “Okay…”, his lip quivering. “I’m gonna miss them.” he said, tears starting to form in his eyes again. The man leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder.

“And they’ll miss you too.” said the man. “Are you ready?” he asked.

The little boy looked out the window again. and shifted in the bed from one side to the other. He looked back at the man and nodded his head.

“Okay… just close your eyes.” The man sat forward and put one hand behind the boys head and another over his heart.

With his eyes still shut the little boy spoke. “Will you ever die?” asked the little boy.

The man looked at the little boy for only a moment. His face full of heartbreak. “No, no I don’t get to die.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” said the little boy. Still squeezing his eyes shut.

“Mmmm…” the man continued to look at the little boy. “Now just relax… like you’re going to sleep.”

The little boy began to relax. His face began to relax, then his shoulders. Then the color began to fade from his fevered face. His body became limp and the man softly laid him down in the bed.

The man stood up, looking down at the boy. He grabbed the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped a tear from his eye. He pulled the blanket up to the little boys chest and fixed his head on the pillow. He turned and looked out the window. Far in the distance, against the blue sky, he could see a small white bird flying high and then swooping low. The bird spread its wings and began to fly farther and farther away. The man smiled and put his hands in the pockets of his coat and turned towards the door.

A nondescript comm slate vibrated loudly on the wooden table accompanied by a klaxon like sound chosen during setup. It's owner, an F-tier supe that's simply known as the Cleaner pulled his attention away from the diorama he was working on.

He worked his jaw back and forth, debating whether or not to answer the call while glaring at the infernal device. It finally fell silent as if cowed by Cleaners stare alone, but he knew better, the caller would call back again. Several heartbeats passed and the device sprung to life again, the vibrations sending it dancing towards the edge. As if knowing it's own doom awaited it on the stone floor below, the slate paused at the edge of the table before vibrating itself over the edge.

Cleaner snatched it well before it met it's untimely end. He stabbed the accept call button and merely grunted. Jordan, his handler from the supe agency was on the line. "Got a supe who can materialize matter with a thought took some psychedelics and, well, you know what that results in. No other supes can get close enough to knock him out. Delta city, 350 kicks to the west."

"On my way." Cleaner's gruff voice responded. Jordan had been Cleaner's handler for years at this point and knew how stoic the oft derided supe was. But they called Cleaner in for dirty jobs like these because the results spoke for themselves.

A short time later Cleaner stood at the edge of what appeared to be an abstract painting. The buildings were disproportionate and leaning in impossible directions. Colors shifted and danced before his very eyes, it was almost nauseating. Digging around in a pocket, Cleaner fished out the Comm slate, laboriously typing out a single word, "Clear?" and sending it to Jordan. The response was immediate, "negative. Civilians in the area, possibly supes, too."

Cleaner typed out and sent 'Ack', holding back a sigh of frustration. Witnesses meant that this was going to be more difficult than it should be. 'Penance' , he thought. 'Millenia of abusing my power, and I pay for it here.' The comm slate disappeared back into a pocket while he contemplated how to approach the problem.

While he worked the problem in his mind, a bony creature with impossibly misshapen wings flapped loudly overhead. Several meters outside the city the loud colors melted away, revealing a pigeon underneath. Freed from it's burden the pigeon found another gear and sped off in search of normalcy.

'Interesting. Once that bird escaped the area of effect the changes melted away. Maybe the powers have a range limit? Or is it an illusion? Either way, that gives me an idea.' Cleaner reached into his memory, trying to recall a particular ability he developed lifetimes ago, but never needed again.

Ah, there it was! A special vision to see through illusions. Cleaners eyes remained the same, they didn't glow or change. But now he could see the real city underneath the imagery. It wasn't an illusion, more of an overlay of strange matter that made the city appear as it did. Cleaner instinctively knew what to do. Instead of thinking about the problem, he instead focused his attention on finding the supe responsible for the mess, trusting his subconscious to keep the matter from affecting him.

Several blocks in he had to stop and let melting eyeballs cross in front of him. 'I've traveled through several universes, and never once did I experience reality as bizarre as this.' he mused silently to himself. A block before the trees lining the street were dancing to a tune no one could hear, some were coordinated while others appeared to dance to a different tune.

Jordan was right, though. There were civilians and supes caught up in the psychedelic effects. One persons legs grew comically large when extended forward as they walked, but shrunk back to normal as it passed under the person's body. A random c-tier sup was plastered as a stylized mime frantically trying to find a door to the invisible box they were locked inside of.

More blocks further defied description. A mix of fluffy substances mixed with demonic imagery painted the scene before him. Cleaner knew he was getting close, though his special vision he could see that the strange matter was seeping into the objects it covered. He called a temporal lens, an ability allowing him to pull on the fabric of space-time to see into the future or past.

He paused to speed time forward through the lense. What he saw dismayed him, if he didn't resolve the situation soon, everything affected by the strange matter would permanently morph into a sludge that would threaten the entire planet. If that happened, Cleaner could reverse it, but to do so he would stretch the fabric of space-time to the breaking point. He knew from experience that if that happened, this universe was doomed.

Dismissing the T-lense Cleaner hurried to find the affected sup. Laughter carried on peculiar winds reached his ears. The strange matter played havoc on the propagation of sound, adding another level of difficulty in locating it's source. Cleaner cycled his vision through many modes until he found one that showed brain activity of living creatures. 'I should have thought to use this sooner.' he chided himself.

There, third floor of a mixed use building was a chaotic signal. Now that he had a focus on the source, Cleaner could sense the strange matter materializing with every heartbeat of the supe, surging out in successive waves.

Cleaner looked around surreptitiously, but ultimately decided that no one was in their right minds due to the strange matter. He leapt into the air and flew directly for the supe, phasing through buildings for expediency. He stopped next to the supe, strange matter flowing around Cleaner like water around a rock.

'Beng able to manipulate life and living cells would help out here, I curse the fates for keeping that from me, especially now.' He considered his options, resigning himself to falling back on manipulating space-time itself. He wrapped the supe in a temporal field, separating him from this reality temporarily. Inside the field, Cleaner accelerated time so the psychedelics worked their way through the supes system. Only when the supes brain signals smoothed out did Cleaner return time to it's normal flow.

'And now I have a life out of synch with this reality. Bringing him back could be disastrous. Must do this carefully.' From the perspective of Cleaners reality, hours crawled by. No longer fed by the sup, the strangeness began dissipating from the edges. Finally Cleaner dropped the temporal field around the supe. Satisfied that the supe was synced properly, Cleaner left the apartment, speeding across the rooftops.

Alighting upon a tree branch, Cleaner once again fished out his Comm slate, pressing the icon for Jordan. "I'm going to need a bigger mop."

[removed]

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Fucking Kyubey

This made my day so much better. Thank you.