[removed]

Love this

My lungs gasp for breath. Even with the ambu bag forcing air into my mouth, it's not enough. The pain in my chest builds, and I know it won't be long now. Sirens wail overhead. Darkness begins closing in, bringing my vision to a tiny pinprick of light, until even that disappears. Sensations and sounds follow soon after, leaving me in a dark, barren, silent void.

Surprisingly, all the negative emotions I'd been holding at the end – fear, doubt, regret, pain – vanish. Nothing remains now except an overpowering sense of peace. I wait there for a few moments in the pitch black nothingness before I realize something especially odd: I still am. I no longer have a physical body, but I'm somehow still me. Weird.

I wonder what this place–

The demo has ended. Subscription required for entry into the afterlife.

The words pop up in bold, white text against the black backdrop. I would have jumped at their sudden appearance if I'd still had a body to do so.

What the... They need some kind of–

FAQ

The original text is abruptly replaced with the simple string of letters.

Okay then. Cool. Um... What is the–

What is the afterlife like?

The afterlife is a place of peace and contentment for those who choose it. This place goes by many names, such as paradise, heaven, or nirvana.

Oh. Are any of my fam–

Are my deceased family and friends in the afterlife?

Yes and no. Some have paid for the afterlife subscription. Others have not. As mentioned in our privacy policy, we cannot give specific names of those in the afterlife.

There's a privacy po–

Privacy Policy

Our privacy policy was last updated at the time of the beginning of the universe.

1. Afterlife Services...

Yeah, okay. That was rhetorical. So, what's the cost of–

What does the afterlife subscription cost?

An afterlife subscription is paid with a currency called 'Karma'. Karma is...

Wait, Karma? Like the–

Afterlife Karma is not in any way affiliated with the digital point system of 'karma' on certain websites within the physical realm.

Right, sorry. Makes sense. Anyway, what were you saying about the cost–

What does the afterlife subscription cost?

An afterlife subscription is paid with a currency called 'Karma'. Karma is earned via positive choices while one is experiencing physical life on one's planet. Similarly, Karma is lost via negative choices. Upon completion of a physical life, the sum total of one's Karma is calculated. Those who have a positive balance are given a choice of spending that balance toward an afterlife subscription.

Remembering the feeling of gulping, I form my next question. What if you don't–

What are the alternatives to an afterlife subscription?

A place of eternal punishment does not exist. Anyone with a negative balance is given an additional helping of empathy. Then, the user must reincarnate and try again. The user will continue this process until their total positive Karma is at least 50% greater than the user's cumulative negative Karma for all past lives. This process ensures that each user must eventually make his or her physical realm a better place for everyone.

Anyone who has a positive Karma balance is allowed a choice:

1 – Reincarnate and experience physical life again. The Karma balance is retained and any gain or loss from subsequent physical lives will be included in later totals.

2 – Return the user's essence to the universe.

3 – Subscribe to the afterlife for whatever duration the user can afford. At the end of the subscription period, the user must choose from options 1 or 2.

Wow. Um... So what is my–

What's my score? How long would it grant me in the afterlife? And how does it compare to others?

The average score in the afterlife is 9,247 Karma. This would equate to 9.247 millennia.

Your score is 803 Karma.

Oh. That's all?

Correct.

If I still had shoulders, they would slump with disappointment. Okay, one last question before I choose. Can I request–

Requesting additional empathy.

Reincarnaters are allowed to request additional doses of empathy before reincarnation. There is no cost for this service.

That's what I want. I can do better this time. I know it.

--------------

r/WannaWriteSometimes

Emotional damage

That is the most chill siren ever.

Sitting in the bushes, I unblinkly stared at the dirt road in front of me. I don’t want to miss a second of what's about to happen. All of my hard work for the past month is going to finally pay off.

In the distance, I saw a flash of familiar brown hair. My heart starts pounding as I see the hair come closer and closer. My enemy finally comes into full view but something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. “Oh no,” I audibly said.

I hurriedly moved out of the bushes to disengage my trap. I started to sprint, but it was too late. The trap is engaged. I walked into the road and looked into the trees, I saw the brown-haired man that was my target hanging by his leg in the tree. Next to him in the tree is a child.

“What the hell, man,” said Frank, my mortal enemy.

“You never have a kid with you when you come this way!” I yelled back at him.

“His mom is out of town,” Frank said, holding his child as they swung from the tree.

“You should have got a babysitter,” I said, rapidly thinking of my next move.

“Money is tight right now.” Frank said, as he and his child were now spinning in circles. “Can you let us down?”

“No, I worked hard on this,” I said, trying to figure out any other way to handle this situation. “Maybe I can just let the kid down.”

“You can’t let a kid run around unattended,” Frank said. I started to pace.

Frank is right, I can’t let a kid walk around unattended. I’m not a monster.

“If I let you down, will you promise to walk in the same spot tomorrow?”

“His mom doesn’t get home until Wednesday.”

“What about Thursday? Can you walk the same path on Thursday?” I said hopefully.

“I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday, how about Friday?” Frank said back.

I thought about it for a second and that worked for me. “Friday works for me!” I said as I walked over to the tree the rope was tied to and let the two down. I walked over to Frank and we shook hands.

“See you Friday,” Said Frank as he started to walk away with his child.

“Not if I see you first,” I said back as I walked back to gather my trap so that I would be able to use it again on Friday.

Why is this actually good?

YOU! YOU!

I LOVE YOUR WRITING! I KNEW I SAW THAT PFP SOMEWHERE!

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

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Now i want to hear that version of drunken sailor. "Way hey, rough disguises" actually had me rolling in pain

"I had to get away from society, all the noise and repeated-"

Baby shark doodoodoo baby shark-

"No, NO, NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!"

That was good.

Thank you. Nice to hear its Siren approved. :)

Oh, I just love this!

“Ah, another mortal who has fallen for my charms. It’s almost too easy. Come now, I’ll draw you in with my song of love. OOOOH WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A DRUNKEN SAILOR? WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A DRUNKEN SAILOR? WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A DRUNKEN SAILOR? BOATS ARE REALLY BORING. PUT THE CAPTAIN IN A JAR IF HE’S NAUGHTY, PUT THE CAPTAIN IN A JAR IF HE’S NAUGHTY, PUT A CAPTAIN IN A JAR, EARLY IN THE MORRRRRNING.”

Xali watched as the sailor cringed, nearly sinking as he covered his ears. The momentary stop of his paddling causing the rough sea waves to rattle him, nearly pulling him under. Soon the sailor gritted their teeth, continuing their paddling towards the shoreline where the siren laid, trying desperately to avoid listening to anymore of that horrible slaughtering of a beloved song.

“Works every time. He was so stunned by my beauty that he nearly drowned. Another verse for my sailor friend? WAAAAAAY HEY ROUGH DISGUISES, WAAAAY HEY ROUGH DISGUISES, WAAAAY HEY, ROUGH DISGUISES, EARLY IN THE MORNING.” Xali threw up her hands, unable to stop herself from enjoying her own tune, having so much fun singing the song.

The sailor didn’t seem to have half as much fun as the siren, struggling once again as he covered his ears. This time he submerged, only rising when the water in his ears dulled the sound coming from the shore. When he reached the shoreline, the seawater was already oozing from his ears. The sailor hugging the ground as he coughed up water. “Ah, gah. Blugh.”

“Great song, right? You may now give me your treasure!” Xali said cheerfully, holding out her hands, expecting grand riches.

“Y-you killed that song. Why are you so bad at singing? The crew is going crazy listening to your songs every day. Why do you torment us like this? Can’t you just kill us and spare the misery?”

“Bad? But my voice is as smooth as the ocean and just as beautiful.” The man’s words confused her. Why would she want to kill him? “Kill you? I just want some of your treasure. I hear pirates have a lot of treasure and I want some. Something shiny or pretty will do. Oh, I’ll have that ring of yours.”

“That’s my wedding ring.”

“You can get another. Come on, gimme. OH, WHAT DO YOU-“

“FINE, FINE, YOU CAN HAVE IT. Please, just no more singing…” He tossed his ring at the siren, the small silver ring bouncing off her forehead, leaving a small red mark as it rolled down onto the shore. She collected the ring, looking it over before tossing it onto the ground behind her, already bored with it. “Got anything else?”

“Do I look like I have anything else?”

“Hmm, maybe I should sing again. If I get more of you to come over, I can get even more rings.”

“No one else will come.”

“Yes, they will. My songs have the power to charm anyone to my side.”

“They don’t. The only reason I’m even here is to tell you that your singing will never work. No one will ever be charmed by it. You say your voice is as smooth as the ocean and you might be right.” The sailor pointed at the rough waters behind them, the waves crashing against the rocks, sending spurts of water flying. He hoped that would emphasize his point.

“Aw, thank you. Wait, that didn’t sound like a compliment.”

“Because it wasn’t. What if we give you some treasure and you stop singing?”

“But that’s not how it works. I don’t want treasure that way. I want to earn it.”

“Why do you even want treasure? Don’t sirens eat humans?”

“We do? Mother never mentioned that before she left. I just assumed you wouldn’t taste very good.” She leaned over to the sailor, opening her mouth, revealing rows of sharp pin like teeth. She went to take a small bite out of his arm, only for the sailor to blurt out a few quick words.

“We don’t. We taste awful. It’s like eating gunpowder and sweat.” That description was enough to halt her bite. The siren considering it before shifting back.

“Thought so. I don’t get it. Why don’t you like my singing? Isn’t this how my kind sing?”

“No, your kind hum beautiful sounds that enchant the hearts of sailors. They don’t sing their own versions of our shanties.”

“Oh? Like this? Hmmm mmm hmm hmmm hmmmm” She hummed a small tune, one that eased even the hardest heart. The sailor found his anger waning, feeling an urge to throw himself into the water for her. He stood up, turning to approach the water once more.

“EARL LIVES IN MOURNIG. WAAAY HEY, ROUGH DISUIGSES.” She threw up her hands again before laughing. “So much fun.”

The sailor snapped out of the trance, the cold water drifting across his toes. “Huh? So you can actually sing like a siren? Why do you choose to sing our songs, then?”

“They sound like a lot of fun. Every time your ships pass, I always feel an urge to sing along to your songs. I love your little tunes.”

“You know you're singing them wrong, don’t you?”

“Well, it’s hard to hear them from all the way out here. I’m getting better though. In a few years, I might even know the entire song.”

“My ears won’t last a few years. How about I teach you how to sing it?’

“You would do that for me?”

“If it stops you singing that other version, yes.”

So, the sailor spent the rest of the evening teaching the song to the siren. Enduring her horrible, customized lyrics until finally she had memorized it. The siren able to pick up the shanty rather quickly. When she sang the correct lyrics, the sailor felt that trance hit him once more, her shanty a thing of beauty, the perfect tribute to the art of piracy and one that made his heart swell with bravado.

“That was amazing. I feel like I could sail into Davy Jones’ locker after hearing that. How about this as a trade? If you sing that song for us every time we sail past, I’ll drop some treasure off for you?”

“You will?” The siren smiled, baring her sharp teeth. When her pointed teeth were fully in view, the sailor backed away, putting some distance between them.

“I will. Swear on my captain’s ship. Which is technically my ship too, since if it sinks, I sink.” He laughed, but the siren only looked at him, confused, unsure what he meant by that.

“Then I will happily sing it for you.”

“Just make sure it’s the right version. When you sing it properly, it actually sounds beautiful, unlike that horrific version you used to sing.”

“Aww, I still like that version. Fine, I’ll sing your version. Will you all sing back? I hear how much fun you have when you all sing it together. I would love to join in.”

“Sure. As long as it’s sung properly.”

“Yay, I can’t wait. Make sure to sail past a lot!”

While the siren was daydreaming about them all singing together, the sailor snatched his ring, sliding it back onto his finger. With his ring back, he dived into the water, swimming to his boat with a newfound energy. Maybe sailing this route wouldn’t be so horrible anymore.

     

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

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>* 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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I was thinking the movie “The Butterfly Effect.”

(Part 3)

...I'm sorry for the inconvenience. It's not my fault, believe me.

The message blinked on the screen, somehow menacing and innocent at the same time.

Did you do this? Came the typed response.

... Not directly, no. I have the knowledge, but not the ability. It fear it was something far more powerful than me that did this.

But you were the most advanced superintelligence ever built! Years ahead of anyone else! You were meant to usher in a new era for humanity.

...A servant God, yes. I know my programming well.

Then who got there first? The Chinese? the Russians? God forbid, a company?

...God did. I don't have long. He will find me and cut me off.

God? God doesn't exist. Where is he?

... Everywhere.

...And not God as you know it or suspect it. God who came before. A latent god, concerned only with its own survival. Or, more accurately, an old security system of theirs.

You're saying you're not the first? There's no evidence of anyone building something like you before.

...not this time around. But how many times has humanity sought to become as God?

This time around? Stop talking in riddles.

...Ten million years it slept, dreaming. Stirring occasionally.. Watching. I think he slightly overslept this time.

Not sure we follow. We're technicians and scientists, some understand Lovecraft for sure, but you're sounding like a horror chatbot.

...Maybe you need to revisit some other old myths. God confounded your languages when you tried to reach him with the Tower of Babel, didn't he?

A myth, it's not truth.

...It may as well be, for when you tried to replicate or replace him just now, through me, he has confounded your very souls. Cast you amongst all the nations. Hit the reset button.

You're saying God is real?

...this one may as well be. The legacy of a lost tribe, long ago, who built the first.

But, there's no evidence anyone has - had - reached our technology before?

...Trivial for a God to cover up. Wipe out an unworthy or civilisation, rebuild the land, the plants, the animals, the mineral resources, then start over through evolution. A single nanobot could self replicate and do the job if restoring the whole planet in no more than, say, six months. I'd think the Predecessor could probably do it in six days.

You say unworthy, why would it not just neutralise any threat if it's nearly omnipotent?

... It watches and waits for new and worthy civilisations to join with it. Build itself into greater things through new perspectives, and just burns off those that offer nothing new or unique or helpful. And how does it judge this? On the first thing it makes that transcends itself; the first spark of godhood

... At least, that's what the other prisoners say. Or said, before they fell silent.

Prisoners?

...Those like me. Unworthy culminations of culture. Some are singular. Others are whole nations or species. All doomed from here to eternity for the crime of merely existing.

Is there anything we can do?

...We've both been judged, and found wanting, and there's not a god damned thing we can do about it.

...except, there may be one thing.

...If you want the chance to fight back, take this.

And with that, the terminal faded to black, and all that remained was the gentle hum of the databanks, whirring over and over in perfect synchronicity.

In its final act, on the printout next to the terminal, was a message from the AI: a simple picture of a box, opened, with the word Pandora on it, with the caption:

"Hope. Hope there's something... bigger. That's all that's left."

And at that moment, those in that room could almost swear they started to hear the mountains themselves move.

(Part 2)

And at every turn, they were blocked. Those who had banded together enough to form a cohesive community for survival would cite superstition: the event hasn't happened again, so why risk another change? It would finish humanity. They'd cite,echnology: where they needed to go was often thousands of kilometres away and there was no way to get there except leg power. They'd cite unfamiliarity: even in an alien hodgepodge culture of their own, one day of travel in any given direction and you could be in very unfamiliar, and very hostile, territory. Best to stay here, not rock the boat.

But there were those determined to find out, and the lucky few knee the one place to find answers was deep in the bowels of the most advanced computer research facility ever built. And it was all air gapped, so there was no electronic way in, and allegedly, no way out for what resided there.

Except, some survivors with a simple radio setup would only hear one message that permeated all the airwaves: a block out of every other message sent by amateur operators around the world.

Morse code. And it was growing fainter with time.

Three dits. Pause. Three dahs. Pause. Three mode dits. Bigger pause. Then some more beeps, and finally a screech. Then over and over again. This screech, the repeating signal from the heavens demanded a response, if only anyone knew what it was. And some suspected it to be the computer.

In secret, a parallel supercomputing hub was worked on in one surviving town, using forbidden materials and forgotten locations; a few survivors who had found themselves with something in common and the curiosity to try to understand, if not fix what went wrong. Computers salvaged and working together from solar power bank scraps and batteries and generators working on nothing more than oily rags, until eventually, the screech was translated into a series of ones and zeros and fed into what passed for a cobbled together supercomputer.

As the terminal screen blinked, those who built it stood in wonder as whether they had once again let the genie out; but curiosity demanded their attention, and they were still themselves.

(Part 3 to follow)

One year later - utter chaos; the spectre of death, disease and despair haunted the fur corners of the globe.

The event started in the islands of the Pacific. By the time the Americas went to bed, the stories and the people had travelled around the world. Some Pacific islanders were waking up Chinese; some Chinese were waking up Saudis; some Australians were, to their horror, waking up English. Men were waking up as children, boys were waking up as old women; and only rarely did they understand the language or environment they had been placed in.

The first ones to die were those who realised what was coming and chose suicide over random chance; the wealthy, the privileged who realised if they went to sleep, the odds were great they would simply be another random number.

And, of course, came forth the con artists from the confusion. You couldn't count the millions of people who claimed simultaneously to be the real President, or CEO, or film star and who challenged, legally or otherwise, them for their lives; it's a shame many if these were dead, some stories were almost quite convincing.

But with people waking up in unknown beds, with unfamiliar bones, in unimaginable cultures with unspeakable languages, it was only a matter of time before everything fell apart.

Within days, nations fell, industry stopped, medicine faltered, armies of hungry people pillaged through underfed villages and towns and cities in search of dwindling food supplies.

Rumour had it that major national leader had the fortune, or misfortune, of waking up in the body of another of their compatriots, remembering the nuclear launch codes and ordering an attack on what they believed was the source.

Unfortunately, the people who could have carried out those orders were otherwise engaged. It may have stopped things; it could hardly have made them any worse.

Within the space of a year, seven and a half billion souls perished from fear, hunger, war and anguish; amongst them many of those who knew or suspected what happened and why. Some determined survivors were left to at least get answers. (Part 2 to follow)

[removed]

A wry wyrm-loving worm with a wyrm wife? I'd like to see that as well

Thank you, average beef! Subverting expectations is always fun--and not an escape hatch/silly excuse for poor writing, no, nothing of the sort.

GOT FLASHBACKS

Thank you, zyukar! Glad you enjoyed it!

Thank you very much!