Headmaster or Dean would probably be equivalent.

When the hollywood writers write a villain that makes sense and could easily be a hero/revolutionary but then they remember they are supposed to be villain

So they force them to kill a dog or something

All of you take your upvotes AND GET OUT lmao

[removed]

I checked my weapon another time before sliding it into my jacket pocket with one last deep breath. “It’s going to be okay,” I said to myself in a low voice. “You can do this.”

With a heavy heart, I set out to complete my task and find the person I had been told to kill – my own beloved father. He was an upstanding citizen who had taught me everything that matters in life and brought joy with everything he did… and here I was tasked with murdering him without hesitation or doubt. But if there was one thing The Society demanded without fail it was loyalty; failure meant death at the hands of their own agents – no exceptions, no mercy.

I paced down the steps leading to his office struggling to keep up a brave face when all inside me screamed that what I was about to do was wrong… and then, just when all seemed lost… My father spotted me from across the room and welcomed me with open arms just like any parent would do when their child comes home from far away lands, unsuspecting of what's about to come .

It broke my heart but still… I let go of his embrace and took a step back pointing my gun at him with tears streaming down my face telling him “I'm sorry dad, but this is how it has to be." As soon as he heard those chilling words all color drained away from his face as he realized who I really was - an assassin sent in by The Society - someone who could see into him better than anyone else – someone who could even see through his kindest facade.

And so as soon as he knew his fate was sealed there were no more questions left unanswered nor any point in putting up a fight – he raised his hands high in surrender and let out one single sentence "I understand" before it all ended with a final simple gunshot inside that darkened room, forever etched on both our minds... just like so many other memories shared along life's journey, only now followed by a darker ending.

Wait, so father and son traded places? The father went to Hell and the son stays on Earth with a good life? That ... that seems like a really solid and selfless move on the father's part.

I don't see how the son has no choice but to accept. I think I missed something.

I dropped my backpack on the chest near the window, staring out it as I watched the locals walking by, and glancing at the woodland beyond. Wishing I had enough strength to be able to leave this sleepy little town. instead, I grab my headphones off my desk and slid them on and tap the passcode on my phone and open a music app and open it. it gave me a recommended music list so I pressed it and without even reading through which songs that were selected I let the music blast through my headphones filling my eardrums. I threw myself on my bed and glanced at my door, surely my mom wouldn’t be home from her book club for another hour.

I know being a twenty-year-old still living at home, don’t judge. Slowly I slid my hand under my mattress and pulled out a photograph I had of the girl I had a crush on. Gwen, she’s now our local journalist, I read every article she writes, whether it’s about the mysterious disappearances of kids, the strange animals that come out and greet locals, or the cutest animals people own. I read every one, it makes me feel closer to her, I never got to tell her in high school how I felt, now here I am an adult still pinning away for her.

Suddenly the music in headphones shifted into the next song, I gave pause as I listened to it more intently than before. it was in a different language, but the beat of it was still enticing, as I listened to it, I started to sing along with it, after hearing the verse of it, I started getting into it. I reached for my phone when suddenly in the middle of my room a burst of flames ignited and shot up to my ceiling, my jaw dropped, I was in shock, and I was ready to leap off my bed to the window, but as the flames died down. A creature stood there, slowly I pulled my headphones down around my neck, a man who stood at least six feet tall, I wouldn’t say man. But his posture was one, his black horns jutted out of his head on either side lining up with his dark eyebrows. His skin a dark blue, as if he was doused in blue ink, his glowing red eyes stared me down. He wore a suit only tailored to those who had money and flaunt it.

“Who dare summon me in the tongue of the old?” the demon growled showing his long canine fangs as his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed on me.

“I . . . Uh . . .” I swallowed in my now dry throat. “didn’t mean too…” I managed to speak.

He rolled his eyes, “ah I see, a mistake? Perhaps you are tricking me, humans are tricksters. Tell me boy, why summon me here today? do you wish to make a trade for your soul?”

My voice wouldn’t come out, I was far too surprised to even respond to him. I had a demon in my room. an effing demon! And I summoned him? how? All these questions swirled in my head, what could I say? oops? My bad?

But before I could respond, one of the photos on my bed floated towards him, I tried to catch the photos, but it landed in his clawed hands. He cocked an eyebrow and stared at the photo I had taken of her, he snorted. “Is this what you want? her?”

I felt my entire face burn, “no! I don’t know how you got here, just give that back to me.” I reached for it, and he disappeared and reappeared behind me and there was a knowing smirk on his dark lips.

“Well, that is one thing I can’t do, I do not bring the dead back nor do I make others fall in love, not anymore. But what I could do is—” he looked me up and down. “Make you look slightly better so she can notice you.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad looking.” I cleared my throat. I ran my hand through my short black hair, “I’m not selling my soul to a demon to look better. not saying I don’t—”

“Boring, are humans as boring as you. You never answered my questions, boy.”

I shrugged and picked up my phone and scrolled through the playlist on my phone and found the song and held it out to him. “I heard this song and so I just sang to it.”

The demon stared at it with contempt. “Interesting . . .”

“What? You think someone purposely made this song so someone would summon you,” I don’t know how I am coping with talking with a demon that I accidently summoned.

He set the photograph on my bed and narrowed his eyes on me. “Well perhaps do not sing with a song you have no idea what it is. not only was I summoned, but you sang a bond.”

What? “Excuse me? a bond?”

With a snap of his fingers, he no longer looked demonic, but rather a normal human. He had blue eyes and blonde hair, still wearing a suit, he looked better than I did. demon or human. He straightened out his cuffs. “Well, unfortunately you summoned me and bound yourself to me. we are going to be together for a while until we can find away to break the bounds you created accidently. Until then, I can grant you anything you desire, I have stipulated rules you must follow. I don’t bring the dead back, nasty business in that. I do not make others fall in love, only turns sour like milk. I don’t make people into slaves, other than that, I am yours. Even though it gulls me to my core.”

My head felt slightly lightheaded, I had a genie, well a demon to grant any wish I want. “You’re kidding?” I backed up.

“Not in the least, you sang the song, not my fault that you sang the words of summoning and bonding to thy self.”

My eye twitches. “Well, this is going to be interesting…” I mumbled as he smiled his fanged smile at me.

But it wasn’t going at Mach 20. In the story.

I gotta be honest with you. As impressive as this is...his power is just soup. And Magnus's power is to hit things as hard as the plot needs him to.

I kind of feel that half a million megatonnes of soup traveling at Mach 20 isn’t going to give a shit about the distribution of force over the 0.24 seconds it will take to punch through the earth’s atmosphere.

Thank you for the suggestion! I kept it short because I thought that longer could spoil the finale!
Will keep it in mind if I ever try again!

Thanks for the kind comment! :)

I have been bested.

Well yeah but soup is a liquid so the total force would be distributed over a longer period of time.

Whoa. Yes, that sucks.

I wonder about the fallout from this. Satan or a demon was able to enter a consecrated church, presumably because it was invited ... will this have broader metaphysical consequences? I could see a sequel where it's revealed that getting into a church was Satan's main goal all along.

Great story.

Cold tomato soup

Insert accordion music here

There's a lot of these "weird and weak" powers actually being super OP prompts. And most of the time, the OP part is so obvious that the whole world has to be dumbed down to not see it. This prompt also falls into that category since, y'know, the ability to turn anyone and anything into something harmless (and dead if they use it on a living being) is a terrifying power.

But I'll be honest, the imagry of a dude just happily holding up a soup bowl as a meteor barrels towards the earth is funny enough that this prompt gets a pass in my books.

Love this take! I was hoping other fairy tales would be the focus and not just Goldilocks and you delivered

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The momentum delta is important as well. Being hit by a pillow vs being hit with a sock full of rocks

I would have preferred a meatier soup

Thanks for tuning into Ted’s Head, I thought, as I walked into the garland-decked cafe. Up next, please enjoy our Holiday Mix, starting now.

In the second or two before I hit the play button on my phone, I saw a man in the corner - brown buzz-cut hair, shiny black shoes, corduroys and dress shirt - frown in confusion. I’d spotted him as I was parking, and had him pegged for either a store manager or an undercover cop. Not for any reason, as far as I could tell - he just had that kind of vibe, y’know?

My theory was confirmed as I hit the play button, and began mentally broadcasting the chiming of bells from my earbuds. The man winced, shot me a brief glare, then pulled a pair of headphones from around his neck and popped them on. He wasn’t the only one - behind the counter, an exhausted-looking barista was openly staring at me, his face contorted into a grimace that was somewhere between despair and bemusement.

I-I-I, crooned Mariah Carey’s voice. Don’t want a lot… fo-o-or Christmas…

“Really, Ted?” the barista asked, as I handed him a ten. “Really?”

I only smiled in reply as he handed me a cup of coffee and my change. There is just one thing I nee-eed, Mariah Carey continued.

I loved the holidays. They made it so easy to keep people out of my head. Normally, I had to resort to either dubstep or else whatever meme songs were freshly stale, but during November and December, privacy was easy.

And I needed privacy.

I headed out of the cafe, unfolding my umbrella to ward off the chilly early-December drizzle. The bookstore where I worked was only a few doors down, and the stores to either side of mine had been vacant for as long as I could recall. Considering I worked alone, and that the Readers’ range was only about twenty feet, that meant I could relax as soon as I was inside. This I did, sighing as I collapsed into the warm, squashy armchair behind my counter, the smell of fresh coffee mingling with the vanilla-like aroma of old paper as I raised the cup to my lips.

Why did I need privacy? Well, it wasn’t because of anything illegal. There were no drug deals or criminal activities I was involved with, no perversions that I fought to hide from the newly-gifted Readers. In most places, the folks with those kinds of secrets had been… attended to, with a sluggishness and inefficiency that the rest of us tried not to remember when the pigs were around. No, mine was the only kind of secret left - the weird kind. The kind that would get you mocked, ridiculed even, but not arrested.

Most Readers wouldn’t divulge those kinds of secrets, of course. The ones I talked to regularly, like Otto the barista, were usually stuck with some degree of voyeuristic guilt, which led them to avoid divulging people’s thoughts unless they had a damn good reason. It was just, y’know, it would only take one loose-lipped Reader to divulge my secret, and then my life would never be the same again.

After all, I thought, looking down at the TED etched into the nameplate on my desk, how the hell are you supposed to look a man in the eye when you know his name is short for Tiddlywinks?

Thanks, Dad.

I loved the House of Change short stories i read a while ago, and i love this one too!

I agree that fingerprints or dental records would distinguish the twins better, but I'd like to read more.

>!My guess is that the protagonist was right and that was Hannah after all.!<