I had just stumbled across an old, dusty lamp while out exploring, and when I rubbed it, a genie had appeared. He said he would grant me three wishes. For my first wish, I decided to ask the genie to tell me his life story. I figured it would be an interesting tale, and perhaps he could even give me some tips on how to make the most of my wishes.

The genie began to tell me his story. He had been trapped in the lamp for centuries, bound by a powerful magic spell. He had been forced to grant wishes to many people, some of whom had used their wishes selfishly and caused great harm to others.

The genie told me that he had been trying to find a way to break the spell, so that he could finally be free. I was filled with sympathy for him and asked if there was anything I could do to help.

The genie replied that there was one thing I could do: as my third wish, I could wish for the spell to be broken, and the genie to be freed.

I agreed, and made my third wish before my second. As the genie was released from his prison, he thanked me and said he was eternally grateful.

But as he vanished into the night, I noticed something strange. He had left behind a note that read: "Now you will be my prison, and I will be your genie."

The genie had tricked me. By making my third wish, I had unwittingly bound myself to the lamp, and I was now cursed to be the genie, granting wishes to others, just as the genie had been forced to do. And so I remain here to this day, unable to escape my prison, bound to the lamp, my only company the wishes of strangers.

r/PostPrototypes

Perfection.

I can imagine this being the start of things deescalating between them.

Honestly, based soup preference. Gazpacho is good stuff.

“No man shall ever love you!” said the witch.

“Oh my God, thank you!” the woman replied.

The witch shot her a confused look.

“Oh, you think you’ll be safe because you’re lesbian? Well, for your information, “man” is also a gender neutral term. So any and all humans across the realm are affected by my spell.”

“Aren’t there other species of humanoids, actually?” asked the woman.

“Doesn’t matter! My curse affects all sentient civilizations that walk on two feet.”

“How about-“

“Swim in the sea, burrow through the earth, soar into the sky, etc, etc.” the witch finished.

“I’m asexual, by the way.” chirped the woman.

The witch glared at her with burning rage. Never had a mortal shrugged off her curses so nonchalantly.

Determined to win, she said, “And my curse prevents all forms of love, Romantic, sexual, platonic, you name it. No one will ever show affection towards you again!”

The woman smiled.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a misanthropic monarch who cares only about appearances and not about friendship.” said the Evil Queen. “You should have just turned me into a frog and be done with it.”

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Somewhere along the way I got lazy. I lost the edge my dad had raised me to have. Son of a bitch that he is, I can’t say he didn’t try to make up for it in his own way. I don’t think he expected to have me in his life for too long. My mistake was dropping my guard. His was getting attached.

When we’re at our lowest points in life, humans can get a bit desperate. A starving man may steal so that he can eat, someone dying of thirst may dig into the earth until their fingers bleed to find water. We pray to whoever will hear us in our darkest hours, and we’ll take any hand that reaches down to pull us up. My dad did just that somewhere in a desert fighting in a war no one should’ve fought in the first place. With his unit all but decimated and enemies closing in, he reached out for a miracle and was met instead with a bargain.

What is the price of a human life? What about the price of 13? It may surprise you to find out that whether it’s one or 100, the price is almost always a flat rate: a soul not your own. That of a loved one or one that is not yet known to you. The bargain struck was his life for that of his first born child. I don’t know what he saw pinned down by gun fire, he can’t rightly tell me what he saw either, but he does remember shaking the hand of something that made his blood boil in his veins. Within a matter of minutes, 13 men were slain and scattered to the wind, while one got to go home.

Here’s the thing about my father. From that day forward he said his luck was unbelievable. He was given a commendation for his “service”, came home to an abundance of opportunity, and somewhere along the way he met a woman. This is where dear old dad thought he could trick the devil. It wasn’t long after his return that he had a vasectomy. He made sure to make quick friends with his urologist, and had regular check ups to ensure his potential for having children was DOA. The woman didn’t mind and was happy to forgo a child to share in their love together for years and years to come. Old man was set for life.

Except two years after the wedding an unexpected surprise shook the very foundation of their love. Imagine his surprise when his wife wound up pregnant. He was beside himself. She was devastated because she had never even kissed another man, much less slept with one. But how could it be that she was with child when his line had been cut? Only the devil knows. I was their son without a doubt. I was a bargaining chip due.

My life should have been snuffed the moment I came into being. Perhaps some figure should’ve stolen me like a thief in the night. My father waited in agony for something, anything to happen to me. As he waited he grew close to me, as some fathers are want to do with their children. He raised me to be smart, measured, and strong. He was there for life’s milestones, my highs and my lows, and now he’s beaming at me on a pew as I await the love of my life to walk down the aisle.

When he told me what he’d done some time ago, I was dubious at first, shocked after that, and then livid to the point of violence. I got some good shots in on him. He didn’t resist. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything else but take his punishment. I left him a battered mess in his study. We didn’t talk for a time. Then I met her. I fell in love. We propped each other up, pushed one another to grow while offering each other comfort from the world around us. She helped me heal and was the catalyst for mending my relationship with my father.

He paid for the whole affair. He wouldn’t hear of her father for anything tradition be damned. If it weren’t for her detailed wedding book, I imagine he’d have planned the whole thing himself too. Thankfully he didn’t. His money is good but his taste is questionable. He’s smiling at me, tears welling up in his eyes. I’m smiling at him. A genuine smile with a fondness I’ve not felt for him a long time.

Now the wedding march. Everyone’s on their feet. The doors open and I’m stunned.

I’m frozen in place. Everyone around me has become wax statues with fixed features staring at the bride. I see her. I see it. I see my destiny decided for me long ago. It glides down the aisle with ease and snuffs out candles on the way. No one has moved or made any exclamations. They are a captive audience who may not even witness what is about to occur. Except for the man in the front pew. His tears flow down his cheeks without pause, a smile still plastered on his face.

It stands before me now and it looks like her, but I’ve already seen past the veil. It is here to hold up the agreement. I watch its lips part into a smile that could crack glass. It leans close to me. It whispers in my ear.

“To have and to hold, to love and cherish, till death—oh, no. I suppose that last bit doesn’t hold up here. You’re mine now…unless you would like to strike a bargain?”

A joke. A jest. It cackles as it takes me under.

I had been living my life thinking that I was safe from the devil, but now I had to face the truth. I felt betrayed and angry, knowing that my dad had sold me without my knowledge.

I could not believe that he had been willing to sacrifice his own son for gain. I knew that I had to find a way to escape my fate, even if it meant that I had to go against my dad.

I started to search for a way to break the deal my dad had made with the devil. Unfortunately, I had no luck and time was running out. As the day of my wedding approached, I started to feel hopeless.

On the night of my wedding, the devil finally arrived. He revealed that my dad had not kept the promise and offered me the chance to take his place. I was horrified that I had no choice but to accept.

If I had known the truth all those years ago, I could have done something to prevent this from happening. I am now the devil's servant, until the end of my days.

My only hope is that my dad one day realizes the consequences of his actions, and that my sacrifice will not be forgotten.

Please spell it out for me here in a reply, because I genuinely don't understand what you were going for, and am trying to help.

“Do you read Sutter Cane?”

So, two things about supes:

One, you can never tell how, exactly, their powers are going to work.

Two, there's no minimum intelligence requirement.

The world hangs in the balance. I'm speed dialing every fucking supe I can think of; my supercomputer is running the simulations. Every combination of known powers, limitations, and side effects is battling to the death with everything we know about that damned meteor - not nearly enough. Never enough. It's clearly not a regular hunk of space rock. It's fucking pink.

Sixteen, by my reckoning, are terrified that it's made out of exactly the stuff that renders them powerless. One is just offended, for some insane reason, and won't engage. He's an asshole anyway. I wasn't banking on him.

Some of them went off-world. I hope they never live that down. They probably will.

Souperman stands, implacable, unflappable, bowl in hand. I check the waiting list. He wasn't even on it. That makes me feel better. If he had been, well... to be honest, I'd have quietly removed him. I'm not catching flak in the post-apocalypse for having put off testing the one idiot who was willing to be brave.

Matter. Energy. Inertia. Entropy. It's different for every supe, not just for every power. Some speedsters get excited and try going from zero to a thousand in less than a second. Death By Physics. It's less common now, but still a classic entry. Others, meanwhile, play by the rules, run the tests, do the work, and then discover that they would have been fine regardless. Some supes can lift buildings effortlessly. Others discover that they can't magically ignore torque and shear. They end up tearing a hunk out, which usually causes a collapse. Some of them end up going through the floor instead of lifting anything at all. Time stoppers get frozen. Invisible dudes can't see. The list goes on. Life just isn't fair.

That's my whole business model. If not all of them are going to be smart and careful, then somebody has to be for them. I can't tell you how many times I've heard some variation on the theme that my own superpower is common sense. It's infuriating, but the money's green, so I don't bitch.

The computer pings yellow, which is better than red, but it's too late. Out of curiosity, I glance at the combination. I chuckle; I never would have thought of it. Constructing the database and the program had been a good idea. That's my thing. I have good ideas, and then I do the fucking work.

I wait for a few moments, holding my breath. When the world doesn't end, I exhale. I wasn't planetside, of course. I'm not a fucking idiot. Still, it's my home. I'd have missed it.

I go to the feeds and watch in slo-mo. I see the whole spectrum. The audio is pre-filtered, but the raw stuff is available if I need it. The computer perceives and processes even more. Its previous task was deprioritized.

The feeds never went out - no catastrophic impact or temperature spike. They recorded everything. It's an ugly sight, but I examine the footage closely enough to confirm.

I update the entry for Souperman. I feel a pang of guilt - far less than if he'd been on the waiting list, but still something. I think of all the other supes who might've helped him out. Maybe they could've carted him around the cosmos a bit, letting him turn lakes, then seas, then oceans on dead worlds into soup. Heck, mountains too, I guess. Whole continents, maybe. There's no telling how powerful he could've become. If it had been gold or something else sexy instead of soup, they probably would've.

I know that none of them will feel it. Guilt doesn't get you anywhere in this game.

Anyway, here it is. It's as complete as it's ever going to get. I don't have the budget to send supes out hunting extradimensional space for traces of matter and energy - everything that used to be that hurtling meteor, but then suddenly wasn't.

Souperman, b. Eugene Constance Forbes 1993, p. 2012, d. 2025. Power: the ability to turn anything into any amount of any kind of soup. Temperature of soup hard-linked to soup type. Power allows displacement of all excess matter and energy, possibly total annihilation. Ability to add or conjure mass and/or energy unclear. Cause of death: acute, catastrophic power overexertion. Died saving the planet Earth from a likely extinction level event: strange meteor.

Yes, "strange meteor" is its own entry. I look at it for a minute on my screen. I shrug, and click to customize. Really, really big strange pink meteor. That's better. That's a little dig at some of the cowards, and that one insane asshole.

The phone rings. I pick it up. It's a different asshole - one that pays well.

"Yikes," he says.

I preemptively bite my tongue.

"Not enough chicken soup in the world to cure that, huh?"

These fucking guys.

Oh wow. You’re right.

John sucked some good D to get the job. Apparenrly really good at it too.

Straight out of the Twilight Zone

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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Soup so good it's out of this world

Thank you so much 😊

Si many for sure. Good job still

Ooh, this is well-written! I love the subtle nods / allusions to why the protagonist soupified the bastard. Plus, the protagonist’s thought process feels real.

It is chronological and situational.

Dread felt at the news of something.

Calm felt when facing it.

Would have been funny if her watch also beeped, and when he said bank robbery on 12th Street, she replied "what a coincidence, me too".

[deleted]

You say in the first paragraph that you have a sense of dread, then in the next you felt a sense of calm.

"And that my friend was how this journey to find hope again to find pandora's box began"