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"You can't kill me. I've tried every way possible." I tell them, off camera of course.

"You'll have to excuse us if we don't believe you." They reply, with sadistic glee.

It's alright though. They don't understand who I AM. I know they won't believe me. I have been both war and peace throughout history. I was in Nagasaki and Hiroshima, when that happened. I was the inspiration behind Dr King, Gandhi, and The Buddha. But I was also Dracula, Alexander the Great, Napoleon, Julius Ceaser, and Genghis Khan. My first name though was Cain.

"I know. People like you never do." I reply coldly. "It's sad and predictable that you will never believe."

On camera for this show, I have been in every trap that they can conceive of. The kind that make nightmares seem like a walk in the park. And yet they seem to be having fun. I'll allow this for now. I've grown quite bored as of late, and need some excitement.

"Let's get on with it shall we."

"The doors to your left will lead you to your next trial, Mr. Wick."

My newest identity, John Wick, isn't even 10 days old yet. I walk through the doors and find myself in a bar with a pencil.

Phenomenal.

TAKE CONTROL

On r/WritingPrompts only mods can set user flairs. I was asking if you'd like me to set yours for you 🙂

That is pretty clever!

Could I do a voice over of this?

[removed]

Excellent!

"Reforms you say? What kind of reform are we talking about son?"

The Dread King Solastrion stood serious besides the piles of parchment brought to him by his beloved son, Pastrial.

"Father, when you unified the 12 kingdoms under your banner, things had to be done to maintain the peace. Many warlords we're eager to raise armies and challenge your right to the throne, but this time has passed. For two generations, citizens of the Empire lived in peace. And they now yearn for freedom more than ever."

The prince took a few of the parchment and opened them in front of his father.

" This law, for example, would allow the construction and maintenance of orphanages and publich schools all around the Empire. This other one would allow for greater access to the justice system for all. Judges will also have to answer to the law instead of their whims. And this last one would force government officials to divulge their earnings in an effort to fight corruption."

The Dread King sat down and pondered about his son's initiative.

" And you really think this will help? I really don't see how!"

"Father, you are 63 years old. You've done a lot for the Empire and made it a force to be reckoned with. But divisions are stronger than ever. Rebels have no trouble recruiting and I'm afraid they are bolstered by the upcoming succession. I hope from the bottom of my heart you still have decades before you, but one day, I'll be the Emperor. And I still want an Empire when that time comes. If we can show our subjects we are agents of change, show them I can push the Empire to even greater heights, the rebellion will die out. You'll cement your legacy and songs about the glorious Dread Kings will be written for centuries."

The Dread King couldn't help but smile. He adopted his son when he was a baby, after having brutally killed his parents. A prophecy foretold the child would be the one the end his evil reign. He always thought fate wanted him to die by his hands, but it appears the Weavers had other plans. His evil reign will end, and be replaced by the good King Pastrial after a peaceful succession.

Much appreciated, thank you

Human adjacent is what I was going for, but unspecified on purpose.

[Out of Thyme]

"It wouldn't kill me to be friendly...," Alex paused outside his apartment and changed his mind. He planned to run to the grocery store; but, he spotted a different opportunity as soon as he stepped out. His new, attractive, next-door neighbor stood just outside her door saying goodbye to a teenage boy.

"Good luck, Turbo," she waved at the teen and her voice drew Alex's attention. The teen disappeared around the corner and the woman with a brown ponytail stepped back into her home to close the door. Alex moved quickly and knocked on the door before it was closed all the way. She paused and peeked out through the crack.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Hi, my name's Alex, I live right next door," he introduced himself and pointed down the hall.

"I know," she nodded. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need some more thyme; do you have any extra?"

"What?" she looked surprised. "How did you...," she lifted her wrist to glance at her watch; then, she shook her head and opened the door wider to invite him in. Her apartment was the exact same as his, including the tight foyer with a 5' square of wood laminate. "I guess that's not important. Okay, how much do you need? Hours? Days?.. Weeks might be pushing it..., but I guess as a favor to a neighbor I can look the other way for a little bit."

"What?" It was Alex's turn to be surprised. He chuckled nervously, hoping that she was just teasing him. The alternative was that she was insane. "I mean the herb, THhhhhhhhhhYME," he stressed the 'th' sound so that it sounded like 'thigh-mm'."

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHhhhh," her tan complexion flushed beet red as she giggled nervously. "Hahaha...," she said.

"OF COURSE! I knew that! The herb, thyme, for cooking. I knew that," she giggled. Then, she shook her head and shrugged.

"Sorry, I don't have any of that," she opened the door again. "Good luck, I'll see you soon," she said. "I really hope you enjoy whatever it is you're making."

"Eh, at this point I might just order pizza," Alex shrugged. After her whirlwind... prank? He didn't know what to make of her behavior; but, it took some energy out of him. "I don't really feel like killing another 20 minutes going to the store."

"Oh, no, you don't have that kind of time," the woman said.

"Yeah, I'm getting pretty hungry already," Alex agreed. "What's your name?" He stepped closer to the open door just so she would see he was on his way out.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Elsa," she introduced herself.

"Well, Elsa, would you care to join me for some pizza?"

"Uhhh...," Elsa glanced at her wristwatch again. Then, she sighed. "... sure. Why not?" she said. "I guess I can give you that much time."

"Ah! I get it! Thyme!" Alex laughed but Elsa only tilted her head at him.

"What?" she asked. Alex stopped laughing when he realized she wasn't.

"You weren't making a joke...?" he asked. "...because I asked for thyme..."

"No," Elsa shook her head. "Okay, I think we need to clear something up or dinner is going to be kind of awkward," she said. "And, I'm afraid it's bad news."

"Oh..okay..," Alex turned serious for a moment; but, he wondered what bad news she could possibly have. She was a stranger that only moved into the building less than a month ago.

"When you came to ask for the herb, thyme, I thought you meant time. And, I only thought that because I deal with time frequently. When I'm working, it's not unusual for someone to ask me for more time...," Elsa said. She reached her hand forward and wrapped her hand around nothing in mid-air. It was as if she gripped a vertical door handle; then, in an instant, she was holding a long, thin black pole with a curved black blade extending out of the top end. "... I'm a reaper," she said. A ghostly black cloak floated around Elsa for a moment; then, she released the scythe. It disappeared along with her cloak. Alex was stunned; it took him several seconds to have a thought at all. Elsa knew it was a lot of information and she stood patiently while he processed what he saw.

"You're..... Death!??" Alex felt like he needed that additional confirmation. Elsa nodded and shrugged.

"I'm a reaper; it's too big a job for a single 'Death'," she explained. Something about the way things happened encouraged Alex to believe her. Thinking back on the interaction, it sounded like a genuine misunderstanding that only someone who dealt with time could make. If she was lying, he was willing to feel like a fool later. But, for now, he might have access to the secrets of the universe. And, he was going to have dinner with her! He chuckled with nervous giddiness.

"Boy, I'm glad I stopped by here for thyme instead of going to the store...," he said. Elsa nodded and gave him a pleasant, but slightly sad smile that he didn't notice.

"Yeah, I'm glad too," Elsa said. "At least this way, you have time to eat; and, you won't be alone for your last meal."

***
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1776 in a row. (Story #331 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at this link.

When she first moved in, I had thought she was a body builder. Not because of her physique, I had actually never seen her at this point, but because of the noises that came from her house. Grunts and pants followed by loud thuds that had to be from heavy weights filled my ears almost every night.

It wasn’t until I saw her outside walking her cat that I realized she was definitely not a body builder. She was old, at least 70, with a walking stick and a limp. She wore an overcoat that almost looked like a cape wrapped around her old timey dress and boots. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was straight out medieval movie.

The cat was a tiny little thing, fully black with bright, green eyes. It seemed happy to stroll down the sidewalk in the little pink harness and leash. This really should’ve been my first clue, but who am I to judge? If the old lady next door wants to walk her cat, so be it.

But then it was Thanksgiving and I was all out of thyme for my dish. I had already tried the other neighbors, a sweet young family, but they were off to enjoy the holiday somewhere else. I was already going to be late, so I definitely didn’t have time to run to the store, so that left me with only one other option.

I climbed up the four wooden steps and gently knocked on her door. No one answered. I knocked again and began to wonder if thyme was even necessary for my dish, I mean surely one ingredient doesn’t matter all that much. When still no one answered, I started to turn around and accept my fate when I noticed a door knocker on the side of the door. It was old, black marble with little cracks here and there, in the shape of a dragon head and claws forming the knocking piece. I picked up the claws and banged it against the door only once. A woman immediately answered.

“Hello?” She was beautiful. Young and lively, with rich black hair that fell to her waist, beautifully framing her dress and corset. I had never seen her before, but suddenly I was glad I had run out of thyme.

“Uh, hello! I’m Michael, I live next door. Happy thanksgiving! Um, anyway, I was cooking and I realized I was out of thyme and I was wondering if you had any I could borrow?”

She laughed and nodded her head. “Of course! Come on in, Michael.” She opened the door wider and gestured for me to enter. It was a quaint little house, a rocking chair and a couch sat in the living room facing an old tv set. The shelves around the room were filled with old trinkets, undoubtedly collected through the years. She walked past the living room through an open door which led to a small kitchen. There was a bit of counter space to the left with an oven and stove and a fridge on the opposite side. It smelled sweet, like chocolate chip cookies were baking all afternoon, but the oven was off.

“How much time do you need? Hours? Days? Weeks?” She looked at me expectantly. I laughed at her joke as I looked around the room.

“About two tablespoons should be enough, thank you.”

“That’s quite a lot. What do you need it for?” She began opening cabinets and taking out a plastic baggie.

“Is it too much? I’m just following a recipe I found online. I’m never quite sure what I’m doing when I cook.” I watched her as she took out a clear canister filled half way with a green powder that seemed to glow when she touched it. “What is that?”

“Time.” She looked at me as if I had asked a stupid question. She began to measure out two tablespoons and poured it into the bag.

“Sorry. I guess I’ve just never seen thyme look like that.” I said. She hummed in response, not bothering to look at me anymore. The awkward silence was getting to me, so I asked a simple question. “Do you live here with your grandma?”

She finally turned around to look at me. She had an eyebrow raised and the baggie of thyme in her hands. “No. My grandmother has been dead for centuries. I live here alone. Well, alone with Salem.” As of right on cue, the small cat I had seen before jumped up on the counter, nuzzling its head against the woman.

“Then do you hire a cat walker? I saw an older woman walking Salem a couple days ago, I guess I just assumed she lived here.” And the fact the old lady literally came out of this house, but I wasn’t going to say that.

“Oh, that was me.” She answered. She seemed so genuine I almost believed her.

“Right…” I tried to laugh it off, but she didn’t seem to be joking.

“Do you think I’m lying? You came here asking for time. If you knew I had some, why wouldn’t you assume I use it?”

And finally it hit me. I don’t think we’re talking about the same thyme.

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

Reminders:

>* 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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dawg this prompt is just Half-Life lol

Wait, so what race is Steven?

LOOK GORDON! RO- HELP ME GORDON!

Cute

Jonas Salk wanted to create a cure or at least a treatment for diabetes.

Maria Curie wanted to learn more about radiation.

I was trying to concoct a better way to get high. Yeah, I said it. I was experimenting with "magic mushrooms" and cross breeding them to be able to grow them in my basement instead of having to run out to cow pastures and fight off hippies and curious teens. What I discovered was a migraine cure. Take one milligram at the onset of the stars, and within moments, it all goes away, and no skull splitting headache either. I never should have started selling it over the Internet.

That's how I ended up in this windowless room in some building in a town somewhere, talking to two guys in black suits and a man wearing what looks like wizard robes.

"... Mr. Hargrove? Are you even listening to us Mr. Hargrove?" the suit on the left was waving his hand in my face.

"I might have zoned out, now that you mention it." I deadpanned. "So, I'm uh, in trouble for selling a substance that is currently not illegal, for a homeopathic migraine cure? Have you seen the other SHIT people sell as cures on social media? Do you guys work for Big Pharma?"

"Young man, they do not. Nor do I. I belong to a consortium of... Professionals, would be the best word to use, who practice some of the same experiments that you do, among other things. "

"So you're a hippy? Do you own one of the pot farms out west? Mad that you can't sell CBD or Cannabis oils to cure migraines any more? I know some of you are a little eccentric. Look, my stuff isn't illegal, and NOBODY has gotten sick from it, Heck, the current formula doesn't even get them high. It was failed experiment number three hundred and something on my way to being able to get really rich."

Suit on the right spoke up. "Mr. Hargrove, Agent Smith and I are here as part of a US Government association to limit access to unlicensed magic. The Professor with us is a representative of an alternate nation who live within our boarders, but do not subscribe to our laws. They have been here since the time of the colonies and lived in secret. "

"What does that have to do with me and my Magic Mushroom Migraine cure? Are they wanting a cut? Isn't that how the government works? Cars that run on water? Shut down by the Oil companies. What else do you have to do to keep the little guy down?" I started to get up and the robed one spoke a single word and all I could do is sit. "What the hell?", I whispered.

"Migraines are an overabundance of magical energies building up in the body with no release path. Your migraine cure allows the Manna, magical energies to dissipate without the pain of a headache or the loss of vision from the initial ocular annoyance. Now, our interest in this particular cure you have created is two fold. One, most people who get migraines are probably genetically related to our people, and we would like the opportunity to welcome them back into our fold. Two, we would like to pay you, handsomely, in gold, for your services in continuing to manufacture this cure. Finally, they," he gestured at the two agents, " would need you to sign some documents stating that you are going to work for the, IRS, was it? As a field agent. At least that's the paperwork part. "

Agent Smith spoke up, "Hey Randal, that's not the deal we discussed!"

<unintelligible phrase> and a wave of the hand later.

"Oh, my mistake. Yes, you will work for the IRS as a licensed agent. You will have a security clearance and a GS18 pay grade, but we will give you the rate for living in the Capital. That will pay enough for you to not talk about what you are doing, really. For him."

"Randal, is that your name?" I studied the wizard. "Wizards, MAGIC is real? Why don't I notice people in robes out and about?"

"Where are you going that you would see us? New York City? Down in the financial district of your town? The trailer park where you sold that failed experimental blue meth?" He grinned at that last on.

"Hey, let's not talk about the blue meth in front of law enforcement, okay?" I chuckled nervously. "That was food coloring and diet pills."

"We are, around, most of us don't participate in your perceived normal society. Some of us live on the fringes of it. You have actually met a few of us buying your cure. That's how it came to my attention. I then, contacted my friends here to have a controlled conversation. Now, I would like to introduce to some more of my friends, alchemists who would like to study with you. Plus there's the matter of your payment from us. That is, if you are willing."

"How much gold are we talking about?" I asked nervously. "I know, we aren't supposed to talk about the pay in the initial interview, but this isn't a normal job interview, is it?"

He reached into a pocket inside of his robe and pulled a leather pouch about the size of a softball, and tossed it on the table in front of me. The clink of metal coins was very loud in the room. I carefully opened the drawstring and saw more coins than I could count. I wordlessly tied it back and picked it up. It was heavy.

"You would spend those in our society. That is a LOT of money. You could rent a home and live well with us, on that bag for a month. And every month you work with us, you will get another. They will pay your in this world for your life here." He reached in his pocket for a watch and smiled. "I've got to go. They will provide you with your paperwork and take you home. I'll be in touch." With that he disappeared in a puff of smoke that smelled like sage and cinnamon.

"I hate it when he does that." Agent Smith complained as he waved his hand around. My ex used to sage the place before we divorced. Said she was trying to get rid of bad spirits."

I laughed. I knew what spirit she was trying to exorcise. "I think it worked then."

"Ha ha, very funny. We are going to take you home now. This week you will receive a FedEx package with your new hire packet. Meet your new manager, Agent Jones." he pointed to his partner who was extending his hand for a handshake.

"What next?"

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

Reminders:

>* 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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"Wait...you're not a monkey! You're some weird dude with a tail! Who are you!"

“I am the hope of the universe...I am the answer to all living things that cry out for peace...I am the protector of the innocent...I am the light in the darkness...I am truth. Ally to good...Nightmare to-”

"What? Jeez I mean what's your name?"

"Yo, I'm Goku!"

"Hi, Goku, I wanted to ask....how come your fingers grant stupid wishes and kill people?"

"It does what now?"

"Your finger. We, I mean my world, found it years ago. The person holding it can make three wishes but they're fucked up and the last one kills you. So I wished for the whole monkey to ask what the hell was up with that?"

"Er....I think there was a battle and Il Shenlong turned evil...or Il Shenlong turned evil and then there was a battle."

"Er who, what, and why?"

"Cosmic wish granting Dragon and who the heck knows why he made my fingers evil, he's a dick."

"Huh, cool. Good to know."

"So...what do you have around here that's good to eat?"

"We have pizza! Do you know what that is!"

"Oooh, that's pretty good! Do you have rice too?"

"We do have rice! Do you like plain steamed white rice, stir fried rice, don buri, or rice omelet!?"

Drooool "Yes!"

"Okay, well let's hit up an all-you-can-eat-buffet and-"

"Excuse me, did you say...ALL you can eat?"

"Yep!"

BOOOM!!!

"KAKAROTTO!!! How dare you run away from our spar!"

"Goku, why did you disappear like that? Chichi is going crazy with worry!"

"Dad! Are you all right!?"

"Darn! Bulma tracked me down already! I was hoping to get lunch before they showed up!"

"Sorry about that, folks! We found Mr Carrot Goku's hand and it was doing weird stuff like granting wishes badly and killing people!"

"NANI!?"

"It's okay now! I got my hand back and taking it home so it won't bother these people anymore!"

"Seriously, what the hell was your hand doing?"

"Short story, I can tell you all about it over lunch."

"Bye, everyone! Nice to meet you!"

Fusion of a bunch of stories.

Now this got me really curious. Did his previous encounter with the mold make it fond of him? Did it bond in his system? In that case why did the other mold monsters not regard him differently? This was fantastic, ty for writing! :D